Previous musings on Thumbscrew's Anthony Braxton Project:
1. Some feeble excuses for why it was taking me so long
2. My first attempt to address in detail the "track 7 problem"
3. A full examination of the actual album
4. A recap of the "track 7 problem", in response to a comment
5. Comparative analysis of the three versions of Comp. 14
- all of which means this is really pt 6, right? Well, not exactly: in my own perverse way (and - dare I say it - in true "Braxtonian spirit") I ended up deciding that pt 1 had two subsections - essentially linked by their all being disquisitions on the challenge(s) of writing about the album at all - and that pt 2 was the rest of it; except that even at that stage, it was obvious that I was going to want to deal with Comp. 14 separately, and (once I looked into the history of it) probably Comp. 157 as well. So I suppose I could have designated the previous post on the subject pt 3a, and this one pt 3b; but fuck it, B. hasn't always been consistent, so why should I..? If it's good enough for him... XD
This, at any rate, is absolutely the last post I plan to write about this album (... unless, of course, I am contacted directly by somebody involved in the actual recording process - a member of the band, or perhaps Carl Testa who helped choose and prepare the materials - with actual concrete evidence of some sort). Just in case anyone was wondering ;-)
It wasn't until March, when I was finally getting ready to tackle the actual album (instead of just explaining in detail why it was hard for me to get round to doing that), that I realised Comp. 157 had previously been recorded. That is to say, I already owned the album on which it first appeared and had heard it more than once, but not for some time (as is indeed the case with a great many of my CDs) - I did know actually that the album of duets with (the late German bassist, journalist and musicologist) Peter N. Wilson comprised mainly works with opus numbers in the 150 range, but I'd forgotten about that; and when I was looking seriously at the Thumbscrew track list it didn't occur to me at all to go back and check (in this fairly obvious place) for a previous interpretation. When I did, imagine my surprise to see that there was not one, but two: the first take is track two on the album, and a second take is also included, tacked on the end as a sort of "extra" (though not literally an extra, since the album only exists in the form of this eight-track CD).
Insofar as there is any real significance to this, it's as follows: the principal aim of the Thumbscrew album was to showcase compositions which had never previously been recorded*, but it begins with two pieces which had been recorded (and on more than one occasion, in the case of the opener) - as well as including a third which also had been recorded before, though under a different title/opus number... that leaves eight out of eleven tracks, and three of them are of course versions of the same piece... so, just six different premiere recordings, then. (Maybe..! All this really means is that if prior readings of any of those others exist, I haven't yet identified them.) I have already said that I don't think the trio was aware of the duet with Mario Pavone, and it kind of seems likely that they might not have been aware of the duets with Wilson either - odd coincidence, that both of these relative obscurities should have been duo encounters with bassists.
Comp. 157, then, was one of a clutch of "hot off the press" new works unveiled in 1991: #s 152-157 were laid down in Hamburg (Wilson's birthplace and home city) over two days in February, whilst #s 158, 159, 160 & 161 were debuted in the studio at Hotel Mohren, Willisau, in June of the same year by the "Forces" quartet**. My understanding is that Comp. 158 was itself the first of a new series of "C-class prototypes***" - meaning presumably that Comp. 157 is the last of a previous series. In any case the compositions mentioned in this paragraph share similar graphic titles, all of which feature B's cartoon-style drawings of people involved in various activities - in this case, basketball. The significance of the titles' assuming this form is no more clear to me than it is for any other phase of the canon, and may not necessarily have been very clear to B. himself#; and although I'm sure these works will still have had dedicatees in mind, nothing is mentioned about this on the recordings which include them. As I've remarked recently, the Composition Notes don't get anywhere this far... and the Hamburg duets album has pretty good liner notes, but they don't really say anything very specific about the actual album, or the music which it contains.
***
Reading #1: duet with Wilson, take one
A typically-acrobatic written line gives way fairly quickly to a "loop" segment, in which B. settles into a continuous repetition of a "sawing" phrase on sopranino while the bass provides any actual movement which is present. The horn line employs circular breathing, so that the effect is almost hypnotic; there is finally a pause and a sharp inbreath at the point where this second phase ends and we revert to the first phase, the initial written line containing some small variations, and after an even shorter return to the second phase, we take off for an extended improvisation. During a very intense sopranino workout B. riffs occasionally on the opening line, the bass now fulfilling the "loop" role - although Wilson doesn't just repeat one written phrase: rather, he varies it continually, maintaining only an unbroken rhythmic pulse over which B. soars and snarls his way through a very exciting and inspired solo.
At some point during my listening session I realise that what this piece recalls for me above all is Comp. 6n, specifically the version with Lindberg from 1982; the balancing of the sawing, steps-down-to-step-up written line with a longer melodic phrase reminds me of so much about the 1991 piece that once I've noticed it, I seize on it in near-certainty that the earlier recording is what B. had in mind when he cut this later one. (So we're back to duos with bassists again, even though this time I don't think there is anything merely coincidental about it; of course, Comp. 6n itself is much older than the Lindberg session, having first been played a full decade before that at the Town Hall concert; but still, the duo version with Lindberg has a very distinctive feel to it - which is just irresistibly recalled for me by this 1991 recording.)
Reading #2: duet with Wilson, take two
- Essentially the same, though with more of a marked pause between the second phase and the brief return to the first; and there is rather less of a sense of urgency at the beginning of B's extemporisation, which takes a bit longer to get going (but ultimately blows just as hot). In both cases, the sax solo takes long flights out into space and returns every so often to fragments of the written material, as if for refreshment, or perhaps grounding; this reminded me of the approach B. can often bring to his solos on standards, as for example discussed (rather excitably, perhaps) with reference to the second half of Trio and Duet (1974).
The first take sounds pretty successful to me, and it's not clear why a second would have been required (though once it was in the bag, I can see why it was included on the album, the playing being just so good to leave out). What does come across very clearly from the two takes of this number is that it was intended as a vehicle for improvising... so it's far from obvious what would be the value in playing it without that element.
Reading #3: trio
Mary Halvorson picks out the written theme slowly and meticulously on guitar, with Michael Formanek naturally doing what Wilson did in the original (though - as noted above - who knows whether or not the group was even made aware of the original); Tomas Fujiwara takes an approach on the kit which encompasses both a "straight" reading of the line and a sort of pulse track, supplying most of the actual movement (not for the last time, on this album). If this is the first phase of the piece, the second is nonetheless entirely missing: obviously I have no idea what is on the score as such, but the "loop" section - which seems essential in the two duo takes to the unleashing of energy which eventually takes place - just isn't present here. Instead, we get a very short improvised passage on guitar (can't really call it a solo, it's too ephemeral for that), some more busy activity from the drums, and then - no, wait, we're done. The reading has lasted less than two and a half minutes.
For all the potential and promise here - as I've said before, this album sounds great, three really good players captured with terrific fidelity by an excellent engineer - this ultimately comes across as nothing more than a preliminary sketch. If one takes this as being (at least somewhat) emblematic of the album as a whole, it unfortunately highlights (again) how badly the group needed more time to prepare and record the material. As it is, this track is so transitory that one can be left wondering why they bothered with it at all -
- which is a shame, because if you go back and listen to it again, paying really close attention this time to ensure that you notice every little detail (knowing how short this is), you can hear that this cut is emblematic of the trio's approach to the album as a whole, in which territories are "miniaturised", treated rather like a little copse of bonsai trees, each replete with scintillating details, but on a tiny scale. What might occupy a segment or phase in another reading is crammed into a few seconds here, minute and subtle changes in the soundscape being deployed in order to cover more ground in less time. The music is so well played that if you do focus in carefully, you can just be carried away by the sheer beauty of it; but the conclusion still inescapably seems to be that this intriguing approach was nonetheless born of necessity: in bringing full focus to the music, you cannot possibly escape feeling almost shocked at how truncated most (if not all) of the readings are. And that remains the unfortunate paradox regarding this album.
That is it!! I really have said everything I have to say about this one now ( - unless, as I noted above, something really juicy and substantial gets brought to my attention regarding the rehearsal and recording process). That doesn't mean I will just shelve the album and never touch it again... I will definitely still play it again from time to time, and who knows? Maybe with practice, I will eventually discover how to pay just the right level of attention to it, and no more than that...
* This isn't just me remembering "somebody having said it", don't forget: Carl Testa affirmed it in his short essay.
** As brilliant as this band was, I can't now quite bring myself to describe them as the great quartet (even without caps..!), notwithstanding everything I said last autumn: this sort of "best-of-ism" is what I have never stopped trying to escape from, I suppose (being in essence one who is driven to flee the centre). Never mind (ever...) what professional critics would do.
*** As per Lock's typically-excellent liner notes for the Willisau box set, reproduced (in part) for the reissue of the studio material. [Lock may (have) be(en) a professional journalist, but - as far as B. was concerned at least - he was always far more than "just a critic".] The "C" in this context stands for connector. What that meant in practice was (of course) quite complex, and it's - fortunately, no doubt - irrelevant to the material under consideration here.
# I definitely have read statements from the maestro acknowledging the instinctive, extra-logical nature of the graphic title system(s); at the time of writing, I wouldn't know where to begin trying to track any of them down. (At some point he has said that the meaning of the titles was only gradually starting to become clear to him, years after he first began using them.)
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