Boot frenzy

Quite often, when I take a break from work for a few days, it gives me the opportunity to catch up on some writing... but that did not turn out to be the case over Easter, when I was with my family and mainly visiting relatives, and any sense of normal routine went right out the window. Never mind: this would have been the next post anyway, it just arrives a little later than it might have done...

Following last time's return to Montreux, I found myself briefly immersed in three other live dates by this same version of the working group, all of which were released* by TCF under the aegis of "official bootlegs". Technically, the one which kickstarted this - BL014, Quintet (New York) 1975 - features an augmented version of the group, with special guest Richard Teitelbaum on synth; but it's the same core quartet at heart. The reason I started with that one is because it contains another reading of Comp. 40n, and I was even (originally) toying with the idea of making a direct comparison.... but in the end it didn't really seem to offer much scope for that.

Not a lot of detail this time, then: it's more just a question of trying to ask some questions - as regards the (published) track listings - and then answer them... with perhaps just a little bit of listening analysis along the way.

***

The second date, eventually released as BL004, Quartet (Bremen) 1975, was already in circulation among collectors - and had made its way to the blogosphere by spring 2009, so that I ended up writing about it at some length. Having done that back then, I am not inclined to say much about it now, and indeed the main reason I dug it out just recently was because I had noticed the inclusion of Comp. 23f, the "broken time accents" experiment which I had completely forgotten about. The only previous official release containing this number was the Ring Records double album At Moers Festival, a real rarity which had not overly impressed me during its Braxtothon session; perhaps that is why I forgot all about poor old 23f, or maybe it was just the fact that it vanished pretty quickly from the live book, and the impetus behind revisiting the Bremen concert on this occasion was to verify that it is indeed this piece which was played there. As it turns out, it's only a (very) partial recording anyway, which was a bit of a let-down after all that; but yes, it was indeed 23f which followed the far better known trio of 23a, 23c and 23b. In order to make that identification, I had first had to play the version from the Moers concert, which reminded me of why this piece never really caught on: the written theme has a similar line to various others written around this time or slightly later, and although the "broken accents" angle is interesting, it didn't ultimately have the legs of its "first cousin", Comp. 23g, whose "accent shifts" laid the groundwork for the pulse track, a much more fertile idea.

Heretical though it might sound, I didn't quite fancy sitting through the aforementioned "better known trio" this time**; however, I did play the rest of the show, which again comprised material familiar to anyone who might be reading this. Comp. 23d sounds dangerously pedestrian here, at least at first, but it does catch fire with lively, bright solos from B. and Wheeler. Comp. 23e, very close to being perfected at this point, has a terrific buildup and was probably the highlight of the date; I have to say "probably" since I failed to relisten to the whole thing this time, but the playing from all four musicians on this number really is uniformly excellent, and it's hard to imagine how anything would have topped it. If it was still slightly missing the magical "moment of transition" as captured in the studio a few weeks later, that's fine too, because for me that studio recording will always be the best version of this fascinating piece, and indeed one of the best performances by this iteration of the group. Parts of this live reading can still make your hair stand on end if you pay attention to it... and if it wanders a little in its second half, that is a feature common to all versions of the piece, including the studio recording. From around 17 minutes the band is clearly thinking towards the next (last?) number, Comp. 40(o), which nonetheless does not actually begin properly for several more minutes; again, this is very strong, but again it's lopped off, although in this case it can only be the very ending which is missing. 

***

The earliest date of the three - BL003, Quartet (Avignon) 1974 - is represented only by two numbers, or at least that is what the published track list reckons; again, I felt compelled to check that out at this juncture. I mean, first things first, that can't be a thirty-five minute reading of Comp. 6i, can it? As for Comp. 6L... that seemed unlikely, especially with no pianist in the band. Confirmation was definitely going to be required.

The first question is remarkably easy to answer, even if the answer is bewildering: it really is a super-extended reading of Comp. 6i, yes. To be sure, in the middle of the performance, it goes plunging off into completely uncharted territory and gets up to all sorts of wild antics while it's out there; but although I kept expecting this to resolve into a transition phase towards another piece, it never happens and instead we eventually, finally, return to the place where we started. I'd forgotten this, too, but apparently I had been aware at one point that the Avignon date featured this extra-long version of the piece: when I checked the Composition Notes, my pencil annotations thereto flag up this concert at the point where B. states baldly "(f)or the most part I have utilized this composition in the traditional A B A structural context (there have been other interpretations)". I did remember having read these notes before, and even remembered having written about them - I just hadn't recalled that I had linked that up to this exact reading of the piece. (We'll chalk that one up to the demon THC, shall we...) For the benefit of anyone who has access to those same notes and wonders whether this extended middle section - which utterly departs from the written score for minutes on end - constitutes the "fermata section" which B. mentions: no, that is something else again (and can be heard on all versions of the piece, right before the beginning of the final restatement of the A section of the theme). I can't remember ever coming across a live example such as B. discusses in the notes, where this fermata lasts "as long as five minutes"; here, it lasts only a few seconds, as usual; but that weird and wonderful middle section really is something else, completely free and open but always moving, always creative***. 

As for the second number - well, whatever it is, it most definitely is not Comp. 6L. Indeed, it is so far removed from that exceptionally distinctive piece that I can only assume whoever stuck that label on this file was thinking of some other piece altogether when they did so... My memory of 6L is pretty clear, for two reasons: first, it was part of one of the most vivid and memorable Braxtothon sessions, which marked the point at which I was well and truly hooked by this stuff; and second, because later that same day I heard it again, on Circle's Paris Concert, where it had been mistaken for a generic "duet", and erroneously co-credited to Chick Corea. (I was outraged by this and immediately sent an email to Jason Guthartz about it - ! He did update Restructures accordingly, in short order#.) So, what with one thing and another, I was not about to forget this number - and this second file on the Avignon boot ain't it. What it is, I must confess I have no idea; it sounds like a partial recording anyway, and we are probably missing the section(s) which would enable us to identify it, but what we do have is quite upbeat and lively, completely different from the tentative "stepping" theme of 6L. At times it sounds quite bluesy - and at one point I found myself thinking I was on the verge of recognising a "quote" from B., only to realise that what I was reminded of is in fact "Comin' On" by Bobby Bradford, and whatever else this might be, it surely is not that##. 

The mysterious second file is also somewhat marred, for much of its running time, by electronic interference - which the listener just has to try and shut out. Nevertheless, this set is highly recommended to all serious fans and friendly experiencers, mainly because of that shit-hot first number. What a great band this was, when it was firing on all cylinders.

***

And so to the main event, so to speak... The chief points of interest with regard to BL014 overlap to a fair degree: what does this - slightly earlier - version of 40n sound like, and how much difference does it make to have Teitelbaum sitting in with them? The answers to both questions are a little perplexing. 

23g is first up, anyway, and it feels oddly lifeless in this rendition, as if Holland and Altschul are not really sure what they're meant to be doing with it; B's flying solo still manages to ignite it. Teitelbaum is first heard - faintly - just after the five-minute mark, creaky-door sounds announcing the synth's first entrance. In principle he could have quite an interesting role in this piece, being neither a third soloist as such, nor part of the rhythm section (whose own role is strictly locked down for most of this number); but in practice, although he accompanies much of B's bravura alto solo, it's debatable whether his presence really adds a great deal. In any case, once Wheeler takes over, RT lays out and we don't really hear from him again.

40n is of course instantly recognisable - and incidentally, comparison between the beginning of this version and the one on the Arista LP, plus the Montreux video, suggests that rather less than two and a half minutes were lost from the latter### - and here we do at least glimpse something new, in that Holland's rock-solid bow technique on that hypnotic drone is backed up by a low tone from the synth, although that doesn't become completely clear until Holland himself switches things up. But whatever the plan might have been, this reading then becomes a weird instance of life imitating art: what was only achieved on the album by careful and time-constrained editing, apparently happened here organically, the introduction yielding to a prolonged bass solo. This being a bootleg and all, where no liberties will have been taken with the recording, we are left unable to reconcile the unedited Montreux version with this previous one, in such a way as to understand them both as faithful and valid interpretations of the written score. When the leader rejoins the fray around nine minutes in, both he and Holland essay some moaning, crying attacks which are intriguing and highly effective - and some time around then, the synth gradually noses its way back in too, very gently making its presence felt. This basically comes across for the most part as a strangely subdued, held-back reading which only really threatens to pick up steam in its final third, though even then it's not whole-heartedly active - though we do at least get plenty of variety in the voicings, and the synth does briefly make a real difference to proceedings, injecting a genuine air of tension and menace around the thirteenth minute...

... but then, from around 14.00 or so, the band is clearly nudging its way towards Holland's "Four Winds", which B. himself quotes directly, some time before the piece actually starts; for whatever reason, Teitelbaum chooses now to let rip at last, though he disappears from the soundscape entirely once the actual tune is underway, re-entering only at the very end of B's solo, and playing along with those taken by Wheeler and Altschul. Then again, what anybody thought a synth might add to a tune as whimsical and straight-up as this one is, really, anybody's guess. Overall, though this concert is a very cool one-off to have in the collection, it will basically always look better on paper than it sounds on the recording, coming off more as a missed opportunity than any sort of real success. I'm not sure that much planning can have gone into the special guest's presence on this sort of set; it feels more as if he just suddenly became available, and everyone assumed that magic would surely ensue. But in his (presumed) efforts not to dominate proceedings or overwhelm the band, RT fails to add a great deal to the sound at all, and 40n in particular - which seems as if it might have been a wonderful platform for such a line-up - rather comes and goes without leaving much of an impression.

So that's that... next time, it'll be back to GTM, I think... 

* In case anyone reading this doesn't know the deal with these "official boots", they were made available in batches, free of charge, by TCF around twelve (?) years ago - and were eventually pulled from the revamped site. As far as I know they are not currently available anywhere - which is why McClintic Sphere and I are both missing the Paris '78 creative orchestra files. They'll turn up at some point - and in the meantime, I may eventually figure out the best way to share some of the recordings on here. Until then, at time of writing, the only releases in this series which are still available via Bandcamp are BL020, BL040 and BL041. 

** Given that Jason G. chose a portion of the opening medley for inclusion on the NBH010 sampler, I may have been cheating myself here, but I just didn't quite fancy it. The more used my ears become to far-out, experimental sounds, the less enthusiastic I often feel about listening to more predictable fare... and I'm afraid that on this occasion, the opening of 23a left me thinking "Fuck it, let's just skip to the bit with 23f and see what was going on there". [It's why I can never get into collecting live shows by rock bands, even the more adventurous ones; it's always going to mean having to listen to night after night of the "big hits". I just don't have the stomach for it. Not that I'm directly comparing the '74-5 quartet to a rock band exactly, but... OK, that's enough of that.]

*** We can draw a contrast there with the big fusion-era bands, and their notorious noodling. Fusion, intended to combine the improvisational rigour of jazz with the energy and drive of rock, all too often seemed to multiply the most self-indulgent tendencies of both. This is absolutely not what happened in the Avignon 6i. 

# I don't wish to imply that the incorrect listing was somehow Jason's fault - of course it wasn't. He was only reproducing what was on the album cover, and could hardly have been expected to fact-check every detail of every release.

## No disrespect at all is intended to Mr Bradford, either. But quite apart from anything else, I don't know if that tune was even extant back in 1974; and even if it had been, I am not aware of any precedent for the working group playing a contemporary "cover" in a live set. (The version of "Cherokee" from Minneapolis two years later is about as close as they ever came, to my knowledge - and as odd as that was, the tune was already well and truly a standard by then.)

### For the benefit of anyone who doesn't understand that reference, it is explained in the third footnote to my recent post; although, at the time I wrote that, I was possibly (uncharacteristically!) a bit too willing to take another listener's comment at face value. Without some really firm backup for the assertion that 2m 35s is missing from the beginning of the show, I'm now inclined to think that "Alex" is mistaken about that. (But I could be wrong.)