Wednesday, April 5, 2023

Never-ending stor(e)y

 

(Despatches from a continuing campaign to acquire all of B's albums)

As mentioned last time, then, I had bought a used ("pre-loved" as they like to call it nowadays... who knows if it was, but it will be from now on) CD copy of Composition 98. So here's an update on what's been going on lately:

1. My new purchase arrived in the post today. As I said before, this wasn't cheap, but then copies of this album never are; as it turns out, it's been very well cared for, even if it wasn't loved by its previous owner(s), and with both the disc and the packaging in spotless condition I was very happy with the latest addition to my collection. 

Contrary to what I previously thought, having this on CD as opposed to vinyl makes no difference to the playing continuity: there is a marked pause between parts one and two, midway through the performance, almost as if part of the plan all along was to be able to split the recording neatly over two sides of an LP without affecting playback*. (I realise now that this was actually flagged up by the timings given for the CD on Discogs.) But never mind any of that, the main thing about having this CD is the pure pleasure of playing it - which I did, as soon as possible. It's an absolute privilege to be able to listen to an official copy** of this amazing recording (which obviously merits a post all of its own at some point). In the extremely unlikely event that anyone is reading this who is not already (at least somewhat) familiar with the piece, which dates from January 1981: B. was joined here by pianist extraordinary Marilyn Crispell (here working with the maestro for the first time, several years before she became an integral factor in his regular plans), trombone wizard Ray Anderson (himself at the other end of his tenure with B., having been a member of the working group since early 1977), and virtuoso trumpeter Hugh Ragin (much better known for his work with Roscoe Mitchell, and here playing what I believe was his only engagement with B.) - and the four of them seem determined to outdo each other in the focused intensity of their playing, negotiating what is presumably a fiercely demanding score with terrific aplomb and incredible speed of thought. I am delighted to own this one at last!

2. At the same time I bought this, I was involved in an online auction for a copy of the double CD Anthony Braxton's Charlie Parker Project, the 2004 remastered version of the album first released in 1995; the seller (whose other stuff was not even vaguely related) seemed to have no idea what he'd got, and the opening bid was only £5. In the way of such things, I allowed myself to get quite excited about this as the days passed and the auction attracted no other bids, nor even any (apparent) watchers; but - of course - right at the death, someone came in with a predetermined "sniper bid" and swiped it from under my nose. (I don't like this sneaky software and would never use it myself, but I can understand why people do it.) So I missed out on that one for now. That's OK: I have a decent rip to CD-R which dates from way back and which (naturally) I haven't listened to in years, so this will be a good pretext to dig that out...

3. ... at the same time, you know how it is (maybe) - I now felt I was somehow "down a purchase" and started fishing around for something else to buy instead. I had been musing on and off for a week or so about buying directly from the label the release from last year: Duet (Other Minds) 2021, with James Fei. I first mentioned this album the day before it was officially released, fondly imagining at the time that it would soon enough be readily available in Europe; but it never has been. Various online sellers list it, but always "out of stock"; however from that time to this I have kept a tab open for it in my browser, at its page on the Other Minds label site, reluctant at this time (owing to Brexit as much as anything else) to order something from across the pond. But I finally thought I'd have a look at how much it would be to do that. The CD itself is available from them, no problem: $15 (perfectly reasonable). The shipping rate to the UK, at this point? Twenty-five dollars. That makes $40 for one single CD... fuck that..! - there's no way I can justify such a cost in the current climate... not happening. Naturally, I am still very much interested if the damn thing ever becomes available a bit closer to home.

4. So in the end I came back to something I was looking at around xmas time, Ensemble Montaigne (Bau 4) 2013 on Leo; depending on where you look, relatively inexpensive copies of this seem to be available. And depending on how you look at it, we could consider this to be one of those "repertoire" projects, given that although it's credited to B., that's purely in his capacity as composer; as far as I can tell, he had nothing to do with the actual recording, which seems to be a collaboration between Ensemble Montaigne and guest conductor/Braxalumnus Roland Dahinden, who played trombone in B's working group during the '90s and was an important early collaborator in GTM. I have had a digital file of this recording for years now and have even listened to it a few times in the past, but never very attentively; last night, determined to spend money on something, I started listening to it on Youtube and decided very quickly that I really do want a copy. It's the sort of stuff which is more or less insufferable as background music, but which sounds better and better the more you focus in on it, and given how much practice I've had recently, it's becoming easier to separate the elements of such larger-scale works and make aural sense of them***. Heard with the right ear, it sounds great, as it turns out - ! So I have bought one - and hopefully the various questions about what the project is, how and where and when it came about etc etc will be explained in the near future, since Leo releases do usually have worthwhile liner notes. 

As to whether or not it qualifies as a "repertoire" album: well, what I had in mind there (admittedly somewhat arbitrarily) were albums which collect a number of shorter pieces, rather than albums which represent one long reading of a single large-scale work; but what actually is this, when it comes down to it? We can get really picky here for a start, in examining the way in which the "tracklist" - i.e. the stated description of the materials, since there is only one fifty-minute track - is presented: it used to be a sort of convention with recordings of B's music that a/b/c would mean a "medley" of Comps. a, b, and c in that order, whilst a (+b+c) would mean rather that a was the basic primary territory, with collaged elements from b and c worked into it. Here, it's not at all clear what we are really dealing with (though, once again, this could all be cleared up pretty soon once I get the actual CD in my hands). If we take it that the main territory is indeed Comp. 174, that is pretty confusing right away, since that work was recorded as a piece for "Ten Percussionists, Slide Projections, Constructed Environment and Tape", not for a varied sinfonietta-style ensemble...

... but look at this! By coincidence - and it really is a coincidence (whatever that means) - I had cycled back around to this recording right after posting about three opus numbers in the 90 range - and have a look at which ones are listed here besides the aforementioned 174: Comps. 96, 94 & 98. Oh, and Comp. 136, besides, which just seems to crop up over and over again (something I first noticed last September after I acquired the duo albums with Ted Reichman and Gino Robair). So, I need to get an angle on the latter piece as well, for sure, but... ah, I do love me a good old coincidence

Anyway, that brings me up to date with stuff I have and haven't bought lately... 

***

Finally, while I'm at it, just a quick word or two about something which is definitely creative music, even if it doesn't involve B. for a change (or even - gasp! - a reed player at all)... the other day I stumbled across a recording I had no previous inkling of, namely a live trio date under Albert Mangelsdorff's leadership, featuring J-F. Jenny-Clark and Ronald Shannon Jackson - a line-up which rather looks as if it could never have existed in the real world but was wished into being in some "fantasy jazz manager" game. I found this easily enough on Youtube and it really is a superb listen. Inevitably, most people just talk about the leader's superlative skill on his instrument, but for me, all three players have such individual sounds that it's more like listening to three really creative solo concerts played simultaneously (which just happen to fit really well together via cosmic serendipity). The original release was only ever on vinyl, but apparently there was a CD release of sorts, in the form of a two-fer presenting this album as the second disc (where the first is another date with an eyebrow-raising line-up, this time featuring Jaco Pastorius and Alphonse Mouzon). There we go... just thought I'd mention that :)


* I wouldn't put it past him... of course, this is actually not the only notable pause during the performance, but it is the only one of significant duration, and it occurs more or less exactly halfway through proceedings. By accident, or by design? (and does it matter?!)

** How much difference does it make, to be playing an official copy versus a good-quality rip burned to CD-R? And how much difference does it make to me? Valid questions. But owning something in "hard copy" form is a pleasure for any collector in and of itself - and so long as we don't get too carried away with this sort of thing, I don't think it's unhealthy...

*** Relatively speaking. I am - of course - not claiming to understand the music in the same way someone would who had studied music formally, never mind in the same way as someone who had studied with and/or played with B. But my ears are pretty well educated these days, at least by "lay" standards...

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