... but being new is (actually) nothing new

 

Having finished my (initial) odyssey through ZIM territory, it would seem a good time to point something out: for all that those twelve compositions sounded (often) fresh and new and groundbreaking to me, this is not, in itself, something especially unusual for B.

A couple of days, I accidentally came across one of my old blog posts (while hunting for a different one) in which I waxed lyrical(ish - or at least rambled on at some length) about (what were still at the time, for most of us) the beautiful "new" compositional strategies known as Falling River Music. There weren't many examples of this in general circulation back then - indeed there still aren't - and if it was talked about at all, it tended to get advanced as an example of B's latest systems, despite the fact that FRM was captured on record a full decade before that. The duo set with Chris Dahlgren didn't get released until 2006, but was recorded three years previously; the quartets with Matt Bauder (plus regular cohort Aaron Siegel - and a bassist called Zach Wallace, who may or may not have been a Wesleyan student) were released slightly earlier, in 2005, but were again recorded in 2003. So, we'll assume for the time being that FRM was actually new around 2003, which is to say almost twenty years ago now, but was still new to most listeners a full decade later. The point, though - the main point, besides the secondary point about how few people are 

really bearing witness to all this highly inventive stuff - is that newness was/is very much the order of the day. 

Ghost Trance Music was new in its day - and continued to reinvent itself over a period of several years. When it first emerged, nothing else sounded like that. 

The small-group-plus-electronics Diamond Curtain Wall system was new, too: nothing else sounded like that, either.

We've had Falling River Music and Pine Top Aerial Music and Echo Echo Mirror House Music - and the ZIM strategy system as previously mentioned, which is where I came in; and now most recently there is the new Lorraine system (also recently discussed, however briefly). I may quite possibly have missed something out. 

All of these innovations were debuted - at least publicly - after the maestro had turned fifty. Granted, creative musicians can often keep going to a ripe old age*, and long may that trend continue, but it's not exactly "normal" for a creator to keep coming up with fresh new ideas well into his seventies. (All this, and B. is still also mining standards, and playing solo concerts, and has been continually exploring new improv possibilities - hell, I haven't even touched on Trillium yet, have I? and people thought Wynton Marsalis had lots of music in him.)

So whilst it's absolutely true that the ZIM recordings sound new and fresh and innovative, these are all qualities which may as well be permanently hyperlinked to the Braxton name. (The first time I heard the new duet recording where the Lorraine system was premiered, it didn't sound very new to me at all, however impressive it was in other respects; but I heard it again last night and already it struck me quite differently. As always, the more attention one pays to this sort of music, the greater the potential rewards; stick it on in the background, and don't be surprised if you miss most of the details.)

This man really is an innovation engine, a one-man factory of ideas, and it's very inspiring. Let's just pause a minute to appreciate that.

***

I've listened to so many different recordings - spanning a full five decades - in the last couple of weeks that I'm not about to try and list them all. Many of them can be found handily on this same Youtube channel which I've discussed recently (be patient and curious: you might have to poke about a bit in order to find everything that's on there). One recording which was entirely new to me is this duo with percussionist A. Kobena Adzenyah (known at the time as Abraham Adzinyah, or at least credited thus on the album). The Leo Records CD has been out of print for years already and it's not particularly easy to get hold of, although copies can currently be found on Discogs... to me it was just one of those entries in the discography which I had never actually come across...  anyway, tonight I began listening to it (at least to the first disc). It is of course entirely different from B's duets with (trap) drummers - sounds nothing much like the meetings with Max Roach or the later sets with Andrew Cyrille; nor, for that matter, does it much resemble the album with Gino Robair, another percussionist (as opposed to a drummer). The African-style accompaniment provided by his playing partner brings out of B. a rather different approach**, although of course he is immediately recognisable; I am not about to try and describe it here, but I would certainly recommend checking it out. (The pieces have been up on that platform for well over five years, and have not yet managed even two hundred plays between them. Obscure or what?)

* At least, they can these days, since the scourge of heroin addiction has ceased to be fashionable in such circles. It is mercifully not uncommon for jazz and creative musicians to keep playing well past the age when other people have retired; whether all of them manage to stay truly creative is perhaps another matter. The AACM alumni may constitute a particularly excellent collective example, in this regard (among others)

** Actually there is one piece on the studio album B. cut with Roach which has a consciously African flavour, and on which the horn playing is not completely dissimilar from some of what can be heard at greater length on this extended meditation. But don't just take my word for it...