I only just came across - and promptly watched - this great video, which has been up online for at least a year; it appears to be a French (or Swiss?) TV broadcast of the quartet's famous set from the Montreux Festival in 1975, edited portions of which made it onto a well-loved double LP on Arista back in the day (and later to a shorter CD). Fifteen years ago, I wrote about the 1975 portion of the album as part of Braxtothon Phase Four; of course, way back then I didn't know just how much of the original performance had been edited out by Michael Cuscuna, in order to trim the album down to a manageable size.
The headline-level news, then, is twofold: the video itself is terrific - the show having been filmed by multiple cameras and superbly edited for broadcast, and the video recording generally very well-preserved - and must be considered essential viewing for anyone reading this*; and I now know exactly how much material was omitted from the Arista record, as will be laid out below. [Having first watched the video all the way through, I then cued up my old CD-R copy** of the album, and went back through the video, playing the album alongside it in order to see where the edits were made. This turned out to be only mildly frustrating - easier than I expected, if I'm honest - and left me well placed to identify precisely which portions of the concert didn't make it onto disc, almost down to the last second.]
The headline version of that is as follows: Comp. 40n in particular got absolutely butchered, and although it's easy to understand that quite a lot of music had to be excised from the recording in order to shoehorn it into (part of) a double-LP, when you see/hear exactly what sort of music was left out of this number in particular, it leaves the released version looking completely castrated. I always felt that 40n rather flattered to deceive in its released form; now I know why that is. I have no idea whether the complete concert has ever been in circulation among collectors***; what I can confirm is that - once again - it is neither in my collection of tapes nor, apparently, in the voluminous Yale Library archive (assuming I am using the search facility correctly). That makes this video a real treasure, and I am delighted to have seen it. [For anyone who just wants the timing details, I have provided a summary in a comment on the video; a more detailed breakdown will follow below, together with more of my customary delirious ramblings.]
It is worth pointing out that after watching the video, comparing it with the (first part of the) album and leaving my comment, I became aware of an earlier comment (from user alexanderketh8808) which provides both less detail than mine, and more; it also points to a separate video containing just the show's encore, Comp. 40m. (Presumably this was included in another broadcast within the same series: presumably, other concerts from the festival were also presented.) For further details, see the footnote*** below.
Besides restoring the missing music, where the video is really valuable is in its close-up camerawork, capturing the techniques of all four musicians as they played the sounds which most people reading this will already have heard. This is of course the main difference between a video prepared professionally by a production team, and one shot on an audience member's phone: these days, handheld devices have such high-definition lenses in them that one might be tempted to think that there is nothing to be gained by having a film crew at all, but that really isn't the case. Sounds obvious - and it is; but watching this really brought that home to me#. Having done a run-through of (most of) the music already, I am not about to do so again, except for the passages which are not included on the original album; mainly what I want to do here is highlight the qualities in what was cut out, but I'll also flag up some examples of what sets the video apart from the audio.
***
Of course, as well as highlighting the brutal nature of the editing for the album, this footage also indirectly highlights the skill of Michael Cuscuna and his team in preparing that album in the first place. It is obvious just from the running time that plenty of material had to have been chopped out; besides, I had already heard more than enough complete shows by B's small groups to know that they are not typically presented in the way they appear to be on the album: a number is played, the group stops, applause follows - and silence - before the next piece. Rather, once they are underway they tend to flow seamlessly through multiple territories - primary or otherwise - until their conclusion; occasionally we might get an actual hiatus between numbers, as heard in Dortmund '76, but this really is the exception, not the rule. However, the decisions involved in preparing this material for release would have necessitated very clean breaks in two places - immediately following the end of Comp. 23j / track one## and again at the end of Comp. 40(o) - and in order to avoid a truncated and jarring silence, applause is grafted on which doesn't strictly belong there: not that there wasn't any during the show, but what the album listener hears following these two tracks is applause from elsewhere, presumably from the end of the concert. A trickier piece of editing-magic was required in order to bring the opening number to a manageable length: actual musical content had to be taken out of a continuous performance. Leaving aside the mutilation involved in doing such a thing, the way in which this outcome was achieved is nonetheless quite impressive (in that the listener is not smacked in the face by it). You do have to be paying very close attention, in other words, in order to work out where and how it's done on the record.
So, credit duly given. Now we turn to the matter of what's missing, or rather, what is here on the video that was missing from the record. It's worth noting that even the Anthony Braxton Project only lists this session as having included the pieces which are on the Arista release, and makes no mention either of any other material, or even of the fact that the set opener ran much longer than it does on the album; indeed it goes so far as to note that B. does not play either contrabass clarinet or alto sax on the first number, which is not true - it is only true of what is included on the record. This first number is completely changed in character by virtue of what had to be left out, in order to make a smooth edit and ensure a workable running time for the first side of the LP.
Comp. 40n, described summarily as a "Concert A drone structure" in the catalog(ue) of works###, is actually another example of the kind of thing which must have got Ira Gitler and his ilk so hot under the collar. A very open-ended piece with the potential to go off in all sorts of different directions, it is reduced on the album to something quietly ominous and ruminative, with the drone-centred opening more or less giving way to a bass passage (thanks to the edit), and by the time we emerge from the other side of that, we are well on the way to approaching the much more bop-flavoured 23j. This is how it is easy to remember the piece, and it's not totally accurate, since the first couple of minutes do actually include some much more playful and free-spirited sounds in between the two arco passages, but the sheer variety included in the (approximately) six minutes and forty seconds which Cuscuna slashed from the piece is jaw-dropping, and utterly changes one's perception of the work.
Even by comparison with the record, it is obvious that there is a bit missing at the start of the TV broadcast: after a short title sequence, the music fades in at 0.26, and although it is not that noticeable unless you go looking for it, checking it against the released version reveals that we are starting in medias res. Exactly how much is missing from the beginning, I have no way of knowing^; what does seem clear is that we are still in the opening section of the piece, with Holland bowing out a rock-steady drone. From here, the first two minutes or so run exactly as per the record, up to about 2.45 in the video. To be precise, at 2.42 B. takes the sopranino away from his mouth, and as if on cue, the whole band falls briefly silent - which of course provides the producer-editor with the opportunity he needed. On record, we now jump ahead to the passage beginning at 9.23, give or take the odd second. In real time, things go differently: Wheeler peels off some bright attacks on trumpet while B. switches to alto and starts pecking out some of his trademark "kisses", and although some quite fiery playing has Wheeler wanting to join in, he changes his mind (3.14) as B. switches instrument again, this time picking up the clarinet. Everyone resumes playing, but by 3.42 Holland has initiated the drone again, and B. switches again, back to alto. The music is fluctuating and shifting, every few seconds. The leader immediately starts to let rip on alto, and the intensity of the band builds in sympathy, leading to yet another change from B., back to sopranino at 4.17, and from here the music just goes wild. By 4.40 we are in an ambience of tightly controlled chaos, riding a storm. Each cluster of activity is short in duration, and moods flicker in and out very quickly, the players picking up from each other with seemingly telepathic speed, always ready to respond or change direction at very short notice.
Around 5.50, we see B. strapping on the paperclip seamonster, and yes, although we would never know this from the official recording, before six minutes is on the clock the audience is being treated to the sound of the maestro's contrabass clarinet. This is an example of where we benefit from the multiple camera angles: close-ups show us the fingering positions in detail, and other viewpoints show the whole body as the maestro wrestles this fearsome beast under his control. The visual editor ensures we get plenty of both. At 6.51, the camera is focussed on the maestro's left hand, but we can still see Holland's face behind him, shaking his head in what appears to be amazement at the dexterity with which B. handles what must surely be an extremely difficult instrument to play. Following this bravura display, Wheeler cuts loose on his favoured flugelhorn, whilst B. trades lowest for highest again in briefly picking up the sopranino, before changing his mind and trading it once more for flute: just keeping track of the different horns he uses in the first ten minutes is almost dizzying, though one would really know never that from listening to the record. As B. tears up his flute, Wheeler himself switches back to trumpet, and the music sweeps on, very free and open and all, it must be said, decidedly non-jazzy - in a manner which must have driven the more staid and stuffy critics to fits of apoplexy.
As the leader signs off on flute, Holland has begun bowing out what sounds rather like a Kelvin-series repetition theme (but isn't), and from around 9.24 on the video, we are finally back to the music which appears on the record. From here, I managed to synchronise the CD-R and the video perfectly, and can thus vouch for the fact that the record follows the performance exactly, all the way through the remainder of 40n, the transition phase leading towards 23j (the thirteenth minute, with the next territory being glimpsed ever-more clearly for those who are familiar with the next piece) and Comp. 23j proper, which begins at 12.56 and ends smartly at 26.13. On record, of course, Cuscuna has immediately stopped the recording and transplanted in some phantom applause; in performance, whilst there was some enthusiastic applause, there was no break in the music, just a one-second pause as Altschul immediately launches into a drum solo (having been the only player who didn't take one during the last number). This lasts more than three minutes, showcases the percussionist's restless creativity and versatility as well as his technique - using just about every surface on his kit, including the rims - and is of course completely omitted from the album.
As the drum solo winds down, B. has once more picked up his clarinet, and around 29.40, as the applause for Altschul dies away, we are back with the album at the start of (the protracted transition phase ultimately leading up to) Comp. 40(o). Technically it could be said that the actual piece does not commence until 33.00, as that is when B. first starts playing the actual written theme, gradually joined by the rest of the band; but from as early as 32.20 it's been completely obvious what is coming next. Again, the record follows precisely what was played at this point, until 36.43 when 40(o) is brought sharply to a close; again, on the record this is followed by the sound of applause only, and of course when side two continued, it was with an entirely different piece, played by a different version of the band, in a different venue, the following year. Back in Montreux, there is no such climax as the playing resumes at once: B. (on alto) and Holland begin crooning gently to each other, and we are easing our way into a third transition phase, which will eventually coalesce around 39.30 into Comp. 23g - and of course there is no mention of this, anywhere on any edition of The Montreux / Berlin Concerts. Just as with the eight-minute encore, Comp. 40m - in a separate video, as mentioned above - the set closer has been pretty much erased from history, as far as most people are concerned; for anyone who is not a Braxton obsessive, this scarcely matters a jot as both the missing numbers were waxed in the studio by the same band, that same summer. For those of us who are, both numbers are well worth watching: the encore is taken at pretty high speed and is very intense, and 23g - being aired to the public long before the term "pulse track" was in use - is a minor miracle, the tension created by the entirely independent rhythm track against the written theme being harnessed for terrific solos by both B. and Wheeler. Somehow, Holland and Altschul manage to remain firmly locked in step with each other, even amidst B's alto flights, and once again we're deep into the sort of territories in which the Jazz Police must have felt hopelessly, head-shakingly lost. As for Comp. 40n, this really was some advanced music for its time^^, arguably just as advanced (in its own way) as Comp. 70 which was unveiled the following year; and yet the thing is, audiences were always appreciative of the artistry involved: it was only the critical fraternity which couldn't hack it.
It is worth just pointing out a few more of the video-exclusive highlights, so to speak: moments which one cannot hear and thus would never know about, were it not for this great video. Around 22.13, we see the sweat dripping off Holland, who has done his best to keep the pace and momentum of 23j alive, all on his own, during the preceding two and a half minutes (he largely succeeded in this). At 25.10, B. gives a small cue with his free right hand, picked up by the camera, but possibly missed by Wheeler - as when the theme re-enters a few seconds later, the two hornmen are briefly out of sync (for once). From around 34.23, while we all have the absolute privilege of watching and hearing the maestro bang out the 40(o) theme on contrabass clarinet, the camera editor makes sure we get a really good look at all aspects of this: the body posture, the fingering, the embouchure, the works. From 39.40 (and especially from 40.25) our viewpoint switches back and forth between B's left hand and Wheeler's right, as they negotiate the 23g theme. (At 38.57 in the same number, something - ostensibly a well-timed bash on a closed hi-hat from Altschul - tickles Holland enough that he breaks into a huge grin, even while he is concentrating on keeping his own time against the two-horn theme.) At 43.33, a judicious over-the-shoulder shot shows us the lovingly hand-written score which the leader is working from. Oh, and at 45.04 (and a couple of times shortly thereafter), Wheeler flashes his "passport photo": that high-pitched squeal with which he always announced his presence in those days, much observed during Braxtothon Phase Two. In the middle of his energetic solo,
we get a look at the score Altschul is working from, as well - of course it looks completely different from B's, on this number; he is reading that over his right shoulder even while the rest of his body is playing the actual rhythm track. They always worked very hard, these guys... but then they always had fun doing it.
***
For the record, just to summarise the differences:
1. 0.26 - 2.45 as on the album, track one (opening fades in, unknown duration missing)
2. 2.45 - 9.24 missing from the album, edited out
3. 9.24 - 26.13 as on the album, conclusion of track one (applause edited in)
4. 26.13 - 29.40 missing from the album, edited out
5. 29.40 - 36.43 as on the album, track two
6. 36.43 - 48.35 not included on the album in any format (technically, some of the applause is on there..!)
We could probably live without the closing credits, with their (now^^^) cringingly-problematic caricatures. But what ya gonna do, it was the seventies... On the plus side, a show like this, prepared for broadcast in the first place! (Would never have happened, on this side of the English channel...)
* The sound is perfectly serviceable, but may not be that great if played through whatever device you are watching it on; I definitely recommend headphones to appreciate it properly (not that I really need to tell anybody that!).
** I don't own this album on vinyl - just as well, since we still haven't got a turntable sorted out yet in this house - and although I did try to score a copy of the CD last year, somebody beat me to it in the end. My old vinyl rip dates from the C#9 days; I don't think it was something which I actually made into a proper post, rather it was probably one of dozens of "extras" which readers of that site ripped and uploaded, then shared via links in the comments. (Ah... the Golden Age of Music Blogging! those were the days...)
*** Actually I do have some idea, since somebody left a comment before I did - "Alex from Germany" - without the same precise breakdown I've given, but with more detail regarding the duration of the concert. Evidently there was more missing from the start of the broadcast than the record itself lets on, and an encore was played (Comp. 40m) - which is available in a separate video, where it was misidentified (as 23e) by the poster; presumably, then, some people do have access to the complete concert recording. I mean, it was always obvious that what is on the record is not the whole of what was played, and the same goes for the Berlin portion(s) of the album - but after all this time, I finally know exactly how much is missing... and would love to get my hands on an intact audio recording.
# It made me think in particular of this show, which itself really brings home both the advantages of the modern phone, and the inescapable limitations of having a complex event recorded from a single point of view.
## The first track on the album is a medley, comprising 40n & 23j: this occupies the whole of side one of the original double LP, and depending on where you look, it is listed either as track one, or as tracks one and two. In functional terms it is easier to consider it as all one track, since there is no break between the pieces; indeed, although we can precisely pinpoint the beginning of 23j as being when the whole band starts playing its theme, the music has been moving in that direction for a little while already, with the leader in particular sketching out elements from it as we lead up to it; this, again, was an approach I encountered repeatedly while the original Braxtothon was in progress. So, following the pattern established later in "post-Martinelli" tracklists, it really makes more sense to render this as one track, entitled Comp. 40n/Comp. 23j, than to attempt to split it in two as Restructures did. [As for the use of the term "medley", this is how the marketplace insists on labelling such composites, but I detest the term in the context of B's music. It conjures up images - at least it does for me - of some seaside entertainer bashing out crowd-pleasing series of popular themes all jumbled together, and doesn't feel like the sort of word we would want to use when discussing serious art. Maybe it's just me, but...]
### Naturally, a lot more detail is furnished by the Composition Notes, which liken the piece to an Indian raga and highlight the work's nature as a platform for extended improvisation. Only composed a few months before this show, it was later "performed all over the United States and Western Europe". It is structured in nine sections, many of which are clearly glossed over in the (first) released version ( - a later reading turns up on Quartet (Coventry) 1985); by a really peculiar twist of fate, it is the third piece in a row which I have looked up in the Notes, only to find a gap where the dedicatee's name should be - I am starting to wonder if these are not somehow being erased from my copies of the books just before I go looking..!
^ "Alex from Germany", in the comment mentioned in footnote three above, claims that we are missing two minutes and twenty-five (or twenty-six) seconds from the beginning of the set, though no source is cited for this information. It is however quite possible that the first entries we hear on the Arista recording are not the actual opening of the piece.
^^ The Notes tell us that 40n was indeed debuted by this version of the band, but B. doesn't mean this performance; indeed, we now have an earlier reading of the same piece, courtesy of official bootleg BL014, performed by the same group plus Richard Teitelbaum on synth, and I can feel another comparison coming on (although perhaps not quite yet). I don't have details on the earliest performance of it by the quartet, as such.
^^^ Actually, this kind of stuff was always problematic; only, not enough people realised it yet...
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