Random rep (Comp. 92)

 

[Another one in an occasional series - except that this time things are rather different: instead of looking at a "cover" of a piece B. already performed, here we have one which had never been recorded prior to the version under consideration...]

The New York Composers Orchestra

First Program in Standard Time 

(New World/Countercurrents 1992)

[see 4 below for link]

1. Background/context

2. Taxonomical nerdery

3. Theory

4. Practice

1. I had skated past this entry in the discography who knows how many times, without ever really registering it properly, before a coincidental listing on Discogs last year (from a seller whose items for sale I was looking at for entirely different reasons) saw me snagging a copy of the CD. It was only at that point that I really took note of why this represents quite a significant (if minor) entry on said discography... but that will be covered under point 2 below.

NYCO was formed in 1986 by the husband-and-wife team of Wayne Horvitz (keyboards) and Robin Holcomb (piano), "as an antidote to the other things (Horvitz) was doing" - the "other things" being his activity on the NYC Downtown scene: "I wanted to see what I could do with something more conservative."* There was an album before this one, in 1990, featuring originals by Holcomb, Horvitz, Marty Ehrlich and (reedman) Doug Wieselman arranged for a big band; we may presume that when Horvitz says "conservative" he means something more obviously in the jazz tradition compared with what he was doing with Zorn et al: no crazy electric guitars, no turntables, no samples, no punk or metal or no wave. Almost inevitably, some fellow-travellers from Horvitz' day job - so to speak - got roped in, so we find Bobby Previte and Steve Bernstein involved from the start, as well as outward-facing players such as Ehrlich and Ray Anderson, but the ensemble as a whole was not just cobbled together from a week's work at the Knitting Factory. Players had to be skilled readers, who were also adept in section playing as well as improvising.

This second (but final) album, then, branches out somewhat in that it already includes pieces by composers from outside the NYCO, played by a fifteen-piece big band**: besides three numbers by Horvitz, one by Holcomb and one by Previte, there is one by Lenny Pickett, one by Elliott Sharp***... and kicking things off, this catchy little number we're examining here.

2. The archival entry for this on Restructures gave the piece the following title: "For Creative Orchestra {Comp. 92 (+ 30 + 32 + 139) + (108 C + 108 D)}", but that's not what it's actually called on the CD. The designation "For Creative Orchestra" is drawn from the composition notes, and is presented as a subtitle. The title of the piece is, correctly, given as the diagram for Comp. 92, followed by NYCO's best attempt to render the materials in a format of which B. would approve: 92 + (30, 32, 139) + (108c, 108d). - a pretty subtle distinction, yes, but if we can't make those here, of all places... anyway. Unlike Ictus and friends, and the Plus-Minus Ensemble (as detailed in the previous two posts), NYCO did not simply call their confection by a generic name.

Leaving aside the ultra-finicky question of whether the titular punctuation could have been improved upon, for once we can see at a glance that we shan't need to worry about where the collaging is worked out, or where one piece ends and another begins, any of that sort of thing. Comps. 30, 32 and 139 are all solo piano pieces - each of which has been used extensively in collaging, as well as being interpreted in toto by several different pianists - whilst the 108 series comprises the first four pulse tracks. We can very safely assume that the contents of the first set of brackets relate to materials played by the two founder-directors, at different times#, and that the second brackets contain materials incorporated by the bass and drums. (Those, at least, we can try to listen out for.) But the main thing is: this is not a medley as such. The whole duration of the recorded piece comprises the premiere reading of Comp. 92, with (what we would now think of as) tertiary materials interpolated by specific players along the way. Of course, quite how much material from (a total of) more than two hundred pages of solo piano music can be shoehorned into these eleven minutes... well, that's something which remains to be seen.

As stated, this was the first time 92 had been recorded by anybody - which is what necessitates the closer look at the theory in point 3 below. (Much later, another star-filled big band would have a crack at it, this time with the maestro himself involved.) That alone makes this quite a significant undertaking, albeit one which is (as I myself have already demonstrated) embarrassingly easy to overlook.

3. As suggested above, the "virgin status" of this piece necessitates reference to the notes - specifically, in this case, to Composition Notes Book D. But first, it's worth just having a quick look at the album's own liners again to see if anything of lasting value was said there...

Penned by (it says here) Bay Area freelancer Derk Richardson##, these particular notes do manage to say something pungent, by no means a given for this sort of exercise###. "Like Cecil Taylor, Braxton is one of the most restless and probing architects of modern music, absorbed with the possibilities of sound and its implications for culture and consciousness". The phrasing here is so typically don't-examine-this-too-closely journalistic that it would be easy to glide on past the statement without realising how astute an observation is actually being made. Many music writers didn't even notice this about B. and his music, never mind take the trouble to point it out. It is, however, bang on the money - not that it should come as a surprise to anyone reading this, but it is surprising enough to encounter it in a commissioned liner essay that it seems only fair to single it out... as regards the actual piece, mind you, all Richardson manages to say is that "for all its complexity... (it) also swings like mad". This, too, is something that not everyone realised about B's music - so we'd better give that due credit as well. Still, this is not an album of Braxwerks, so it's quickly on to the next number from there.

B's own notes, naturally, are both hyper-detailed and densely abstruse. They are also, in this instance, bestrewn with errata and gaps; for example, "Comp. No. 92 is dedicated to         " (- and this is literally followed by several lines of blank space before the next paragraph). Still, they clear up right away the question of what was meant by "for creative orchestra (1979)" - this subtitle appears right next to the graphic title, at the top of p.429. [This is p1 of the notes for this piece, and from now on I will give only the page numbers for this set of notes, not the volume.] NYCO did nothing wrong by including this wording, nor did they try to turn it into the title of their composite reading. ^ The piece is actually part of a set: Comps. 89-93 inclusive all bear the same subtitle, and were all composed "for Swedish radio". (Exactly what is meant by that is not explained; presumably some sort of commission was involved, although if the works themselves were unrecorded - which all five of them were, prior to 1989^^ - what did "Swedish radio" actually get..?) As regards the notes specific to this single piece, as opposed to all five: these run to nine full pages of text as well as diagrams and extracts from the score. Even were I qualified to analyse all this material in depth - which I'm not - it would not feel appropriate to do that here, in order to assess one individual reading of the piece by an external set of musicians. I'm just going to try and sift through it all, to see what emerges at "top level"...

... and what does can, I reckon, basically be reduced to three categories:

3a. Influences/reference points. In the first section of the notes, 92 is described as "an extended be-bop-like structure"; almost immediately afterwards we are told that the piece is "a music state that seeks to forward the affinity nature of the big band context - so that we can recall the wonder of that music." So, those are our first two references right there; a couple of pages later we hear about "a dynamic strong sound universe that is steeped in the tradition of big band interpretation dynamics". Besides a passing reference to "the music of (Charles Mingus and) Woody Herman", that's about it for big bands as such; on the other hand, the spirit of be-bop is invoked continually, although B. seems at pains to clarify that any formal similarities to bop are not to be taken as emblematic of the essence of the piece (more on this in 3c below): "the nature of (92) only proceeds from a be-bop 'surface housing' (that places the context of the music in what is perceived as a 'known state') as a basis to form fresh moment solutions that emphasise 'known and unknown' variables." Again, further on, we hear of "a be-bop sensibility - but with different apparent tendencies." This is effectively summed up on p5 of the notes, thus: "In the beginning the music is perceived as normal within the tradition of what be-bop is 'supposed to be' - later as the music continues forward it becomes apparent that 'there are other factors happening within the work'."

Two other reference points emerge later on. On p9 we read about a "session 'sound universe' that mechanizes John Coltrane's composition 'Ascensions' (sic) to create a 'construction universe' sound context that breathes fresh light into the vibrancy of creative music" - this being typically obscurantist and, well, deliberately difficult ^^^ - as well as introducing a concept that might feel strange to most readers ("breathing light") but is probably quite natural and intuitive for the synaesthetic maestro. On the following page: "I recall during the construction of this effort that I became very aware of Thelonious Monk's music (and harmonic nature) and some of that awareness was put into the lining of Comp. 92 (but none of this was approached as an empirical directive)." One could posit that Ascension bears a tangential relation to big bands, and Monk to bop, but in both cases this would really be stretching the functional definitions of those terms beyond the point of utility. So: four musical reference points to keep in mind.

3b. Formal structure. 92 "is a series of sequenced material and open parameters" which "unfolds as a nine-part component structure that alternates from written notated materials to extended improvisation." This is codified by B. as A (S) C (S) E (S) G (S) I, where S = solo (i.e. improvised section); these latter are subdivided into "two tempo soloist open parameters and two collective improvisation parameters". These four sections, not being notated by definition, may "position as many solos... as desired... depending on the needs of the moment or intention". The diagram which occupies p3 indicates that the first and third such sections are "tempo solos" and the second and fourth are "collective".

3c. The essential character of the piece. I could go on at quite some length here, quoting the text in numerous places - but I already took rather longer than planned over 3a above, and I really did want to avoid getting bogged down in this. As I understand it, the animus (as it were) of the piece is encapsulated in the phrase which is found on p2: "a series of simultaneous events"~. There are (of course... why would there not be) at least two different aspects to this: at any given time during the notated parts, the different sections - in the traditional sense of reeds, brass, etc (in keeping with the spirit of the big band era, at least up to the time of Ellington~~) play long written lines which overlap, but which act independently of one another; and the rhythm section has its own duality going on, alternating between a "swinging role function (in the traditional sense" and acting as a "fourth line variable"~~~. In other words, the entire flavour of the piece is contrapuntal, in a rather radically extended sense of that term, and the rhythm section plays a very active part in this: alternately, the rhythmic contours may "appear 'off' of the principal pulse of the music" or may "emphasize (their) relationship to the principal pulse". This being the case, it makes perfect sense for  NYCO to have collaged in the two pulse tracks; it even feels like an inspired decision. @

There are a few other bits worth quoting from the notes, before we (finally) move on...

Comp. 92 "is a non-harmonic (not atonal) be-bop sound structure" ( - this distinction is not clarified at all, but it is obviously a significant one for the composer, and must therefore be borne in mind)

"Nothing is emphasized and nothing is repeated"

"This is the blues, my friend" ( - it really isn't what most of us would think of as the blues, but it's very interesting to know that B. thinks of it in that way... he is discussing the principle of tension and release at this point in the notes)

"... a composite linear maze of linear constructions is placed into the space of the music in a manner that allows it to still meet the dictates of a 'swinging' music state" ( - unbeknownst to him, Richardson echoed this statement in his liner notes)

That concludes the theory bit. [I have endeavoured to reproduce the quoted text as accurately as possible, retaining all of B's punctuation, spelling and grammar]

4. Maybe it felt as if we would never get there, but... now for the actual music. (I am not in a position to offer downloads at the moment, but the music - courtesy of the official NYCO Youtube channel - is available here.)

Ehrlich is credited as director for this number - which, as previously mentioned, opens the CD. Of the fifteen players, he was one of (I think) just two who had prior direct experience of B's music: the other was of course Ray Anderson, who spent several years as a member of the actual working band and was in principle far more qualified for the job; Ehrlich is quite strongly associated with B's standards groups, having got the call on more than one occasion, when the maestro fancied playing piano and needed a versatile and technically-robust reedman to step in; but those dates were a couple of years in the future at this point. The only time he had played with B. prior to this, that I can find, was in 1978 - and that was indeed a creative orchestra affair (Anderson also present, right in the middle of his tenure in the working group).

The word "arranged" does not appear anywhere in the liner notes, but we'll have to assume that this job was included in Ehrlich's remit. Then again, with the instrumentation so close to that specified by B., it might be argued that the piece "arranges itself": all that really needs to be worked out is the identity and order of the soloists, the manner of linking up the structural phases, the precise allocation to the three main sections (Ehrlich has at his disposal five woodwinds including himself - he will take the first solo - plus three trumpets, two trombones and french horn; the two keyboards, bass and drums will presumably more or less take care of themselves)... and the backing for the four solo phases. That sounds like quite a lot of work, come to think of it... maybe "director" is indeed the optimal term.

I played this a few times last week (doing so was what prompted me to write this in the first place), but I have put in a lot of research since then and my understanding of the piece is rather deeper. The main take-away from previous spins was how old-fashioned the horn arrangement sounded, as if any "big band" piece must sound like something from the 1920s (not really, of course) - but then, having looked at the notes I withdraw this observation, and besides: it does also sound pretty similar to the 1976 Arista bash, being (I thought) especially reminiscent of Comp. 55... well before the end of the piece, it gets extremely hot and intense, and generally gives the impression of being a good and worthwhile reading.

Then I wrote most of the above, before returning to the music. Once you know how the horizontal structure is set out, and have an understanding of the ethos or flavour of the piece, it is very easy to follow what's happening in real time - at least, as regards the actual primary territory. There is a very short introduction, establishing the rhythm and tempo while Anderson and one of the trumpets warm up, then at 0.11 we are straight into the A phase. This does exactly what we would (by now) expect: the reeds, trumpets and lower brass start up "three independently superimposed sectional phrase grouping line formations that are cast over a medium to fast tempo driving rhythm section." This phase lasts about forty-five seconds - long enough for the notated material to be played through - and then a brief swelling chord takes us into the S1 phase, where Ehrlich takes his solo@@. This consists exclusively of fast runs and assorted extended techniques, entirely in the spirit of the music and not in the least bit "jazzy", and it sounds fine if at times maybe a little hesitant. Backing statements are provided principally by Anderson, with Holcomb mainly laying down sporadic (dis)chords and Previte providing a steady beat, which nevertheless sounds at times as if it might be edging towards a pulse track.

An organ phrase from Horvitz at 2.08 signals the switch to the C phase, and we're back to the threefold notated material. This time, Previte - with Horvitz and (bassist) Lindsey Horner - is definitely laying down a pulse track as opposed to a steady beat. Here, then, is the "fourth line" strategy we read about earlier. Anyone who isn't really paying attention would miss this altogether in the maelstrom of sound; by 3.04, Anderson has begun flexing his way into the S2 phase, and this begins properly at 3.11. His solo is complemented by crazy, queasy swirls from Horvitz over a backing in which Horner plugs away at a walking bass line while Previte pretty much plays as a second soloist. At 4.14, more written unison material tells us we are now already in the E phase. The rhythm section "behaves itself" again here, reinforcing the tempo rather than disrupting it, but as we approach the end of the fifth minute the mood is very intense, and stabbing chords from Holcomb see her getting ready for her solo, ushered in by Horner's switching to arco bass at 5.10. 

This S3 phase sees Holcomb playing (I would guess) more freely than she ever did in her whole career, taking her cue perhaps from Marilyn Crispell (though without MC's preternatural fluency) - while (second trombone) Art Baron interjects and Horner and Previte both break things up. This does not sound like a pulse track as such, not least because the bass and drums play completely independently of one another at this point. Previte keeps foot to throttle, but there is not really a steady beat during this very open phase. At around 6.20 Holcomb signs off and at once the G phase is underway; from around 6.30 a long roll on Previte's snare seems to cue up the second pulse track, both he and Horner now once more taking the "fourth line" approach. This is a brief phase, and it precedes what is easily the longest: the S4 phase, which comes closest of all to the "collective solos" specified in B's original plan, begins at 7.06 and lasts almost three minutes.

A sustained organ note ties the G and S4 phases together, during which time the bass and drums suddenly start playing at furious speed. The featured soloists in this final open phase are the three trumpeters, in the order Jack Walrath - Eddie Allen - Steve Bernstein, but what that really reflects is the order in which they start, since improvised phrases from all three get traded back and forth as this phase progresses. The pickup of the pace, in the meantime, sounds so natural and subtle that it could go completely unnoticed - until one eventually realises how fast Horner and Previte are playing: as the trumpets continue to trade phrases over increasingly intense backing, the mood becomes terrifically exciting, and this is underlined by the "traffic noise" interpolations from the other horns and the keys, which build little by little to an almost unbearable pitch. This phase really does feel like a sort of tightly-marshalled chaos, if that makes any sense; by 9.20 there are effectively as many as seven or eight "soloists" all doing their thing at once, and the intensity is sustained all the way until 9.56, when the final I phase begins. This is preceded (just) by a quick press roll from Previte, signalling what is then a seamless switch from a furious flat-out sprint to the badass swing of the closing written statements, leading up at last to a six-second crescendo attack from the horns, whipped home with a few final snaps on the snare. 

- And that's that. We might quibble: the S4 phase is clearly along the lines of a "collective solo", but is there really enough of a distinction drawn between "tempo solos" and "collective" in the other three S phases? For that matter, the piece is really quite short and could in principle have been developed quite a lot further. But as regards the second point, it's not an album of B-rep as such, and a really long and involved reading could have unbalanced the overall programme; trust me, most of the rest of the album does NOT sound like this. Besides, as regards both quibbles: some (most?) of these players were not used to negotiating material of this level of complexity or ambition, and within certain inescapable limitations, the orchestra delivered the most successful outcome which could have been expected. Nor is that intended as faint praise: Ehrlich and Anderson do a great job, Holcomb and Horvitz do too, and both Horner and (especially) Previte just tear the place up. The rest of the ensemble acquits itself extremely well on this highly challenging material, and everyone could be justifiably proud of this reading.

The one legitimate gripe concerns the use of the solo piano music. Even if we assume that Holcomb's solo consists exclusively of excerpts from all three of those scores, and for that matter if we assume further that every note played by both keyboardists originated from somewhere in amongst them - which is unlikely - that still adds up to a vanishingly small percentage of the actual total available to them, and one is left wondering if maybe it wouldn't have been more honest to cite just one of the three piano pieces (- even then, only a tiny portion could actually have been used). As it is, the impression is given that this rendition utilised collage elements from five different pieces equally, which simply cannot have been the case. But if that is the only real demerit here - and I would say it is - then we can easily find it in our hearts to overlook it. I really enjoyed this delightful one-off, and the effort I put into making sense of it definitely helped me to appreciate it more.

If you've read this far, thank you, and well done! I hope that it aids you, too, in enjoying this intriguing addition to the discography.

* As one would hopefully infer from the inverted commas, these are direct quotes attributed to Horvitz, included in the liner notes for the CD. (Just to confirm that I am not putting words into his mouth: "antidote" and "conservative" would both sound highly inflammatory if said by anybody else...)

** One of the Horvitz pieces, "Paper Money", uses a slimmed-down nonet, featuring Butch Morris (making what by then must have been a rare appearance on cornet); he does not play on the rest of the album.

*** I don't mind saying that the album as a whole is rather too "conservative" for my tastes: there are plenty of charming details if one pays close attention, but it's all too easy to use (most of) the album as background music, and the majority of the pieces sound... a little unambitious. To my (admittedly warped) ears, Sharp's knotty and dissonant "Skew" is easily the most interesting thing on here (with the obvious exception of the opener).

# This is about as precise as I am ever likely to get: I could live to be 150 and I doubt I would ever reach the point where I could confidently say which solo piano piece is being quoted when. (Indeed we might go further: given that at least two of the three pieces used here consist of multiple written pages to be assembled in whatever order the performer chooses, we can infer that even pianists who have played these works might not necessarily be able to say for sure "these fifteen seconds are from page ten of 32... these eight seconds are from page sixty-five of 30", etc. The task is almost unimaginably difficult: more than three decades later, I doubt really that Horvitz or Holcomb could tell us either, unless of course they made exceptionally detailed notes at the time of performance.)

## This is not a typo: he is actually credited as Derk, not Derek (or Dirk). New one on me.

### I say this as someone who did write music reviews for a magazine for a few years, a long time ago - albeit not professionally. It can be extraordinarily difficult to find things to say under these circumstances, unless the writer is actually powerfully impressed by what s/he is hearing. You do end up racking your brains to avoid simply repeating the same stuff ad nauseam.... I could never have done it full-time. 

^ Restructures also included the following rubric for Comp. 92: Twenty-six pages of notated music with improvisation, for the creative orchestra. Instrumentation: 3 reeds (alto, tenor, bass), 3 tpt, 3 trom, b. trom, TB, guitar, piano, SB, Per (set). This is not from the full notes as such, but rather from the Catalog of Works - I feel obliged to use the US spelling there, which I would not normally do - at the end of the book. The instrumentation is not precisely replicated by NYCO, although they come pretty damn close, and do (coincidentally) comprise a quindectet, as specified here! In any case, whilst B. often wrote with specific instrumentation in mind, it was very seldom (if ever) the case that a given interpretation would not be "valid" if it didn't stick to the prescribed instrumentation. (Quite the contrary, if anything.)

^^ The earliest recording I can find of any of these five pieces is on Eugene (1989) on Black Saint, which includes both 91 and 93. (The exact same programme was of course later replicated by the official bootleg BL024/-025 Creative Orchestra (Portland) 1989.) The album was actually released in 1991 - twelve years after these works were composed, and one year before NYCO's sophomore effort (which would appear to be less than coincidental); Jump or Die was also recorded in 1992, including Comp. 90 (in collage form), and again this doesn't feel like a coincidence. The upshot is, none of these five works were officially recorded until 1989, though naturally this does not mean that none of them was performed before then; who knows, some Swedish collectors may have airshot recordings which would prove that they were..? (What a tantalising possibility that is...)

^^^ This is not a criticism, nor is it said in irony: B. has every right to make his writings difficult, and demanding of close and careful reading. I have been thinking quite a lot about this, and will make it the subject of another post, later this month (at least, that's the idea...)

~ This phrase, which I wrote down and underlined as I was working through the notes, is taken directly from the text; but I have exercised some considerable licence in using it, since the phrase appears in the middle of a much longer sentence, in which the "series... of events" is not strictly a definition of the actual piece. 

~~ To say this is not my strong suit would be an understatement, but one detail I have retained from the jazz history books which I read twenty or so years ago is that prior to Ellington, big band arrangers routinely played sections off against one another, voicing one individual written part for reeds then giving the next to the brass, etc; Ellington is (as I recall) credited with being the first leader to use the innovative technique of "scoring across sections" (in works such as "Mood Indigo") by pairing, say, a clarinet with a trombone. [This is all unpacked a bit further in the next footnote.]

~~~ Fourth, because in B's original chart, the three sections which voice the written lines comprise the reeds, the trumpets and the trombones. Bass trombone was presumably included in the latter group, whilst I would guess the tuba was intended to be in the rhythm section (as a brass bass, to complement the string bass). This is all notional of course, since we don't have any recordings of B's own arrangement(s), and NYCO's instrumentation does not include either of those voices. - As we can see, B's chart gives the sections of the orchestra their own parts, and of course Ellington very often would have continued to do this as well; I don't mean to imply that he always scored across sections, once he had begun to experiment with that. 

@ It is a creative choice which wouldn't have been available to the composer, in 1979: the pulse track per se had not yet been invented, although of course it was foreshadowed in 1975, by Comp. 23g... [Incidentally, if anyone - besides the present writer - has ever wondered why B. used the term "pulse track" for rhythmic lines which are generally irregular, the answer is found in the Glossary of Terms (one of the numerous appendices in the books of Composition Notes): pulse "is my term for tempo when the actual tempo is removed and the force of the operative is retained". OK, so that may not exactly explain things, but... it helps?]

@@ I thought that the lower notes - and general tone - sounded more like a tenor sax, but the liner notes say the solo is on alto. (Ehrlich plays both, plus soprano sax and two clarinets, over the course of the album.)