Comp. 94, round one

 

I posted recently about a video of a 1979 trio concert in which B. was confirmed to have played tenor sax - but was only concerned, at the time, with that very specific aspect of the performance. Just by looking at the line-up and the date, it was obvious to me - from previous research - that the material for the concert was the larval form of Comp. 94, which I was already planning to study at some point in the not-too-far future; I earmarked it, left a tab open for it in my browser, and... actually, by my standards, I didn't leave it that long at all before I watched it ;-)  - but it took me a further week to get round to writing it up.

Comp. 94 itself is going to require quite a long run-up, from my point of view, before I can attempt to listen out for references to it in a collaged piece* such as, say, Ensemble Montaigne (Bau 4) 2013. This is not like many of the works from the four creative ensemble books, or (for example) something like Comp. 136 which has a very recognisable motif (which itself is far from being the whole of the written material for that piece, but which we can always expect to be quoted more or less straight away, when that piece is worked into another set of materials). Luckily - or unluckily, depending on how you look at it - I anticipate getting plenty of practice, since I have several different versions of 94 to work through, culminating in the version which (eventually) made it onto an album. 

The video seemed like a good place to start. It's one of quite a few from a YT channel run by Jay Korber**, and is typically excellent in quality; the music, once I started watching and listening, just blew me away. I knew already, from previous digging, that B. was presenting audiences with an unfinished piece on the 1979 trio tour of Europe - that he was still working on 94 even as the three players were allowing audiences into the laboratory - but if anything this just adds to the excitement for the modern viewer of the video. Fuelled by Richard Teitelbaum's outer-space synths***, B. and Ray Anderson treat the appreciative crowd to a performance of wholly unpredictable, entirely new and forward-facing music with not a single jazz cliche in sight.

From the outset, the material sounds more like what we would come to expect from B's '80s output than much of his music from the '70s - although one must always be careful about making such generalisations# - and the written parts which B. plays on sopranino sax early on (the music starts at 0:40 in the video) are filled with the wide interval leaps characteristic of the melody lines which will go on to preoccupy him for much of the next decade, seemingly quite divorced from concepts like key or tonality. 

Having established that B. played tenor sax at this concert, we would naturally assume that although he may start on sopranino, he won't stick to it for very long; what we wouldn't necessarily expect is for a trombone specialist like Anderson to be similarly restless, but he flits between alto and tenor trombones, and tuba, throughout the set, starting within the very first minute. Teitelbaum, stuck behind his banks of synths, doesn't have this option - but of course he can vary his sounds considerably, and he certainly does exactly that: when the camera focuses on him, which is fairly often, he pretty much always seems to be switching things around, altering the sounds and effects from his larger keyboard in particular. Variety of voicings is very much a key feature of this performance.

At 3:00, the camera behind Anderson locks in on his music stand and slowly zooms in, giving us a great view of his sheet music - and giving me a great opportunity to "nerd out" (as I believe they say across the pond), because as well as a couple of pages in fairly typical (for the time) Braxtonian notation, RA has a separate sheet peeking out from the top of his score with what is clearly a list of the basic language types on it, and these are not exactly the same ones which have become standardised since. The first four items on the list have not changed: long sounds, accented long sounds, trills and staccato (formings##). But the next entries on RA's list differ from what later became standard: high sounds, curve sounds, short accented sounds, extreme register shifts, multiphonic sounds. (Number 10 is hidden behind the score, and of course so is anything after that.) For what it's worth, the later list will place multiphonics at 6; intervallic formings (we may presume this is what was meant by "extreme register shifts") is now at 5; gradient formings - which may or may not be exactly what was signified by "curve sounds" - can now be found at 11 on the list. There is no mention of "high sounds" these days; but number 7 is still occupied by short attacks, and we may reasonably presume this refers specifically to "short accented sounds", since if this were not the case, these would fall into the category of staccato formings and there would be no need for two separate entries on the list.

At 3:45, all three players sound as if they are working the same material, although this is way out for 1979..! The piece is characterised by these periodic convergences, usually fairly brief, with longer phases of individual expression in between. At 4:40, B. picks up the alto for the first time, and over the next few minutes he will end up delivering a typical masterclass with it, eventually deviating from the written score entirely and developing his own ideas - though within the framework which the three musicians have set up; Anderson is (of course) worked very hard, continually called upon to prove that he can hold down the role in B's music originated by George Lewis, and Teitelbaum isn't just making spacy noises either: around the six-minute mark, he is even playing quite lyrically, and it's obvious that when he cedes his own role in this piece to guitarist James Emery, the latter will really have his work cut out for him. 

B's alto solo makes much use of force, which is to say, accented attacks, something he has always been very good at (giving the impression of stepping down hard on some notes more than others, to great effect). Of course, this is just one of the tools he uses in his increasingly-wild solo: even before he was an actual college professor, B. already resembled one, lacking only the elbow patches to complete the look - but he just tears that sax apart. By 9:40 he is back to reading from the score, and it looks at first as if Anderson will now head out on an excursion of his own; but not quite yet, as it turns out. Instead, we enter (seamlessly) a completely

new phase of the composition, with B. switching to clarinet, RA picking up the tuba, and B. in turn following him into the depths with the paperclip seamonster. As RT drops into the lower registers too, we are well and truly out in the depths of space at this point - with this phase still very much in effect at 13:00 and beyond, it will be interesting to listen out for this in other renditions of the piece. 

Around 13:46, RT conjures some sort of whistling feedback, though I'm not sure (after repeated viewings) how he does it - B. and RA are otherwise accounted for, still on contrabass clarinet and tuba respectively, and the leader's preternatural control over what is supposed to be an unwieldy instrument is astounding in this section. Approaching fifteen minutes, we have somehow ended up at the other end of the sonic register altogether, without any drastic change having taken place in the basic tessitura - these presumably will be emblematic of the "high sounds" at 5. on RA's list, and of course it has long been established that the maestro can produce very high squeaks on the contrabass clarinet; although in this case, as Anderson forces the breath through his tuba and Teitelbaum picks out some far-out tones, the piercing altissimo attacks emanating from B. are actually being produced on soprano sax, as is eventually revealed at 14:54 (the leader having switched axes again while the camera was fixed on Anderson). 

Heading towards 16:00, it is now time for RA - back on trombone at last - to get forceful in turn, and he really starts to tear it up. Indeed, so inspired and impressive is his solo here that both B. and RT lay out completely - until 18:35, when a new section - quieter, sweeter - of written material is commenced. Subtlety and restraint are the watchwords now: with squeaks from the soprano, ethereal keys - and Anderson playing what is either a detached mouthpiece or some sort of pocket whistle, we are gradually guided through this sparse new territory towards somewhere denser and hotter, B. now on tenor (which he first starts playing at 20:48) and RA on muted trombone. By degrees, the music becomes fiercer and more intense, gradually building until by 25:00 it's gone "full crazy", with all three players cooking like mad. RT plays both his synths at once, then turns to the bigger one and gives it his full attention, throwing in a whole range of effects. 

At 28 minutes, B. is tormenting his sopranino, alternating gentle notes with harsh overbreathing, and RA does something not dissimilar; but by 29:15 we're out in some deep-space nebula again, and the ease and rapidity with which the trio can change mood and ambience as they navigate this modular score### is just as amazing as the stamina they evince in sustained phases of wild intensity. Around 31 minutes, there is another brief snatch of written material from B., but although we know that parts of the score are written out as actual thematic content, this piece is also one composed in segments, each focusing on particular concepts of sound production; as far as I can tell, actual moments of reading directly from the score are relatively few and far between here. In any case, by 32:30 it's time for Teitelbaum's own solo, and here we really get treated to some mad stuff: the larger synthesiser doesn't seem to have a standard keyboard register, but instead the keys generate different sounds rather than variable pitches, unless perhaps that is driven by the performer's choices with the many wires and switches at his disposal; however it's realised, there is no doubting the wild creativity and effectiveness of the improvisation. 

Another change of mood of course follows this, with B. on clarinet leading the trio at 35:05 into a new phase with his "crying horn", RA and RT melding with this as best they can. By 36:20 Anderson has the tuba strapped on again, and B. switches up clarinet for soprano sax at once, producing around 36:42 a marvellously subtle effect by "woodpecking" a single note and then a lower note, mimicking in the process the effect of a delay or echo pedal - it's there and it's gone, but it stood out for me in the listening. From here, B. undertakes another solo, starting out by singing away on his soprano, but rapidly moving away from this into a performance which transforms the instrument into something quite different in character - different, especially, from what most players do with it. Alternating effortlessly between "straight", uninflected lines and harsh breathing / multiphonic attacks, again leaning down hard on certain notes to terrific effect, some of what he ends up playing here sounds remarkably similar to renditions of (Kelvin repetition series) Comp. 6f from several years earlier, but he runs on and on without ever running out of variations or fresh ideas, leaving nobody in any doubt as to his virtuosity.

This alternating of attacks, in turn, is not just something peculiar to B's solo, because a shortish ensemble passage exploring mainly isolated, broken-up and disjointed sounds is followed by another showcase for Anderson, who employs his own varied inflections in his playing, "bending" a lot of his attacks and playing with sudden changes in dynamics much as B. has just done. Anderson has a "lighter", less serious reputation than George Lewis, and sometimes gets overlooked as a result, but his technique is compendious and he is a very imaginative and creative player - another ideal foil for B., really. It's surely no accident that B. ended up writing a lot more "circus-style" pieces for the quartet while Anderson was in the band, this playing entirely to his strengths; but it's also surely not a "making-do" decision to have selected the same player for the extremely demanding piece we are presently considering. And besides: if anyone should ever be tempted to consider the maestro as a "competitive" musician, let us rather be mindful of his much-proven ability to inspire others, elevating their playing to new heights.

From around 47 minutes, we are more or less straight into another feature spot for Teitelbaum, with just some brief written phrases in between. This solo is not quite so far out as the first, but there is no faulting his level of concentration - unpredictable though the playing continues to be, there is nothing remotely random about it at all. As the leader stands with the contrabass clarinet at the ready, the synths get wilder and freakier, and heading into the beginning of the closing section (around 51:20) Anderson is now playing what appears to be a cornet (? - whatever this is, it's uncredited), and B. once more switches out his lowest for his highest instrument, contrabass clarinet for sopranino sax, with no change in the overall feel of the territory at this point. Somewhat mournful, or perhaps just contemplative, the three players draw out their sounds in unison, turning up the dynamics together as they approach the very end of the piece.

That's it! It's a fantastic video, and I can't tell you how much I enjoyed the piece: much as we might like to think otherwise, it's just not possible that everyone in the audience had any real idea what was going on here; but there will have been those present who were able to follow the music closely and continuously, and what a rare excitement it must have been, to be there to hear this music and know that one was witnessing the sound of the future, now. 

* I've said before that "collage" is a potentially misleading term in this context, since B. himself regarded it as a phase or period within his ('80s) work, the underlying principles of which were retained and developed later in an ever-more sophisticated manner; when it comes to arrangements or performances of his music by others, though, it still seems to be the appropriate term to employ.

** These videos are attracting quite a lot of attention, relatively speaking, but as far as I can tell the person who posts them has resisted any temptation to respond to questions from viewers about who he is or where he's getting this fabulous footage. It seems very likely that he's German, probably a resident of Berlin - where most of the performances took place... and beyond that, it may not be very helpful to speculate. Did he / does he work for a German TV station, or as an archivist? He seems to prefer these questions unanswered, and I'll respect that.

*** Frequently visible on RT's left is a Moog, which is no surprise at all. But the larger instrument which gets most of his attention during the performance -? I don't know what this is, and although I have tried to find out what equipment the electronic pioneer was using back then, I haven't yet been able to get an answer. My best guess is that it's something Teitelbaum either built himself, or had built for him to his own specifications - or perhaps it was some sort of electric keyboard which then underwent extensive modification. Whatever it was, he sure knew what to do with it...

# It's very easy to think of the four creative ensemble books as representing B's "seventies music" - whereas in fact, of course, they form just a part of that. Like Sun Ra, this composer was always not so much ahead of his time, as working to a timeline entirely of his own.

## Actually, number 4 on RA's sheet simply reads "staccatto" (sic). The term staccato line formings appears on what we would now regard as the official list, as published by TCF. 

### I have retained some memory of both the Composition Notes, as such, and the (fairly extensive) liner notes for the eventual Leo / Golden Years of New Jazz CD which finally saw this piece officially released, and they lay out the structure of the composition in detail - but I have deliberately resisted re-reading them at this stage (time for that, in due course).