restructures link
does everyone already know about this one? it's not an obscure album at all, and indeed it's still in print, for a change... i had never prioritised it for some reason (well... maybe that cover, which looks to me like something a child might chuck together!) - until recently, that is, when i decided it was missing in my life...
... so, with that rectified, the album has ended up doing a lot of duty lately as background music - that's what it's been in theory anyway. in practice, several times i have ended up stopping what i was doing in order to sit quietly and give the music more of my attention. this is a very interesting programme, given a committed and inspired reading by a young and lively-minded group of players - many of whom, presumably, would never have dreamed they'd be working with anthony braxton before mike heffley made contact with him. the fact that such an ambitious project came about from such small beginnings - and was realised with great success - reconfirms this man's extraordinarily encouraging influence.
braxton and heffley aside, few if any of the musicians will be familiar - but don't let that put anyone off. the territories here are challenging and obsessive, some fairly bristling with tension (comps. 134, 45, 71 for example - the last a fairly close relative to comp. 40f which is up for examination very soon), synth and electric guitar are both present... and the 80-minute concert is rounded off with comp. 59 - the little concerto for two soloists, already familiar to many of us. those of you who don't know this one - go on, give the deserving retailer of your choice a spot of business... and those who already have it, what do you think?
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
braxtothon '08: session 008
europe, fall 1976... the end of the year approaches, but there is still plenty of music to squeeze in before we get there... back on the euro live circuit (what would american creative musicians have done without it?), we are almost ready to hear the new version of the quartet, at last; but first there is another reeds-and-bone duo to negotiate. what, another one? doesn't that seem a little odd..? it's not the most commercial formula ever devised, and besides, the earlier album was so damn good, surely it's not worth releasing another in the same format unless it could somehow be even better? well now...
session 008: donaueschingen (duo) 1976
date: 23rd october 1976
restructures link
this time around, the duo will play as if they were a group, that is to say the main set will be seamless, no pauses between territories... that's the first notable difference, and the second is that this time it's a lewis composition which kicks things off.
no change in one respect, though - braxton takes first showcase. and it's the monster..! right from the start (of the album at least - was this actually the start of the set?) b. is on contrabass clarinet, that fabulous sound... and for the first minute he puts the instrument through its paces unaccompanied, lewis joining him after a natural pause; both men start to spell out a slow, mournful theme - this is "fred's garden" - but it's a theme which is happy to be interrupted from time to time, lewis taking over solo for a bit, impressing again with his full, ringing tone - and though the two horns return to the theme then, this soon enough gets messed up, and the fourth minute sees the first hints of dual freedom escalate very quickly into full-blown mayhem. by 3.55, with both horns trying to outdo each other in low-pitched blasphemy, it sounds like a bubble-blowing contest in some gas-infested swamp... fantastic! but, as one might have come to expect by now, that's precisely when the balance shifts back again and the next entries from both are clear and melodic, the next section of the long and winding theme being spun carefully out. (in this respect i'm reminded of comp. 23e among others, but only a little bit. the way the theme treads ponderously along, counting itself slowly off - in between explosions of madness - does remind me of some of b's ballad themes, but the whole setup in this case sounds far more akin to free improv. braxton has always claimed not to have been influenced by the euro free guys, simply because his basic style was fully formed before he encountered them, but is the same true of lewis i wonder? more likely the european developments were just one more module on the younger man's "syllabus"..?)
as far as i can tell, this is the only recorded version of lewis' piece. "fred's garden" is perhaps not the cheeriest place to visit, seemingly dark and spooky, inhabited by sparse groupings of gnarled and twisted trees - and there's always that charming swamp over by the compost heap! but in any case it's a good place to start here, providing all the necessary ingredients: tension, strange beauty, absurd humour. more than once, the audience is provoked into delighted laughter - what did we miss? from around the 7.00 min mark, b. switches to sopranino and the two players chase each other around for a while, then fall into march time, both exulting in it (back at moers in june, the same possibility was raised and dropped; in between, we can assume that lewis has rehearsed some of b's march pieces, specifically comp. 6c). here the march is introduced more in the manner of a ticking clock, and it's something which both pick up so quickly that it must (?) have been prearranged - tick, tock, tick, tock, until it becomes clear that this is actually a countdown, and we'd better run for cover before that old land mine of fred's finally explodes... ah, no, maybe it was just a false alarm. but in any case there's (never) any time to look back and reflect at what's been, because what's now is always so compelling: in a microcosm of the duo's basic approach, the next minute or so sees all manner of variations in attack and mood from both players: soaring beauty, crabbed and warped weirdness, it's all there so that even that which is not played is yet implied. outrageous squeals from the braxbird, and more mad laughter... this is the stuff! even at its most edgy, the music is always spirited and lively. stop me if you've heard this one before, but these two players were made for each other.
from around 9 mins, the landscape begins to shift and change, moving by increments towards comp. 6f. this is only unusual because it's a duo; it's standard practice for the quartet, in continuous performance. rarely do we get a clear-cut ending of one territory, leading to the next: rather, as one piece starts to wind down, the basic tessitura of the following piece is established little by little, so that in many cases it's possible to get clues as to what will come next; only when all the key elements are in place will the theme begin, to confirm which area we are now exploring... here, the pair give hints in the form of swift pecks and very fast little linking runs... around 10 mins, there's the theme and within thirty seconds we can see exactly why b. has revived this old piece, surely the longest-serving of his entire repertoire at this point. both men just find it inspirational, and lewis in particular drives the pace hard as both horns toy with dynamic variations, alternating very forceful attacks with very quiet ones. a gentle passage ensues, still urgent in its coded message at this speed, but beautifully restrained; and then, by degrees, the concept of forcefulness is leaked back into the mix - the next couple of minutes see all sorts of variations, again, a perfect holographic fragment of the greater world of possibility that opens up whenever these two men take the stage together.
by 14 mins things have slowed right down, a sleepy trombone puffing out a line of sorts while the clarinet which joins it, though not sleepy at all, still has the usual hypnotic qualities (this bird is nothing if not a charmer). soaring, haunting evensong becomes a playful series of exercises, becomes free improv, all cycles moving organically into each other with deceptive rapidity, the basic texture of the music changing every few seconds but never seeming to change suddenly, not at all. (gtm already implied.) braxton, for sure, will have honed this sort of skill in europe, but also back home with the other aacm masters - and the same traditions presumably already inform the young lewis, the rest being down to his natural ebullience and curiosity as a sound-maker. in any case, however they arrive at this level of wizardry, the upshot for us is that one idea after another is dangled before the listener's ear and an attentive mind will be greatly rewarded. no-one need ever see the title comp. 6f
(or "73 kelvin", etc) on a tracklist and think, "ah, not again, i don't need to bother with that". there is no such thing as a routine version of it. (of course i would hope this is true of all the compositions -!)
the restatement sounds ridiculously fast when it arrives, but they are both so zoned in by now that they just sound as if they're enjoying it (and probably were). in due course they wind it down slow, very slow, lewis collapsing altogether into rasping clouds of flatulence, then singing through the middle of the clouds, and the next clarion calls from the trombone signify the opening of the next territory (*1), comp. 64. so good, they played it twice - this piece was of course the superb opening number for the previous duo, at moers, back in june. and this version, of course, sounds totally different... this just the sort of thing which makes track-listing live recordings so very tricky. but it is specified, there in the catalogue of works (*2): comps 64-8 are "designed for many different interpretational context possibilities". there is something of the same cartoon menace in this performance as there was at moers, but that earlier music was not written out, exactly, and neither is this.
when b. joins the trombone this time, he is on contrabass sax, two monsters now on tour, sending postcards back to the radioactive swamps of neptune, no doubt... the exposition of the piece is far more measured and ruminative than the instant acceleration of the earlier rendition, but still, by 1.30 both are playing forcefully, leaving ringing echoes behind them in the soundspace and at 2.30 we're right in the middle of a brief but very intense storm, b. overcoming his instrument's inherent limitations(*3) by mixing in attacks made fully with the voice and breath. in between, the pair have casually dropped in the first written phrases and around 2.50 they return to these, initiating almost a minute of exchanges which clearly recall the earlier version. when they appear to have locked each other into an unhelpful groove around 4.05-4.10, this turns out to be simply the conclusion of a given passage, signed off with another birdcall motif. 4.30, another emphatic blatt from lewis cues up an exchange of high pitches and squeaks, whistles from the reed, radio static from the brass, yet another excursion which takes us into clouds of noxious gases before it's through, but lewis is just so outrageously good at this. by 5.30 both are down at the opposite end, pooting and blarting like restless ships in a harbour. by 6.30, with the whistles now being mixed in with the poots and blarts, it would be pretty hard to identify the sound sources. lewis now has a mute on - and mr braxton, somehow, has managed to get this most cumbersome of beasts to perform some of the tricks its cousin revels in - indeed the ensuing barnyard conversation exposes so much versatility in the reedmonster that i find myself (later) wondering if it's not a clarinet after all - but i'm pretty sure it's not. in any case, at 7.35 there's a clean break and although the next entries from the leader are more squeaks, he's now on alto as it turns out. pecks and kisses are exchanged (a favourite technique between these two!), interspersed with fast and fluid runs now. then another change, already: squiggles up high become clarinet swoops lower down, and then we're suddenly being shown something quite different.
stately, grandiose monologues come now, and then back into unison, but although both toy with dynamics expertly as they tease out some more written phrases, the multi-dimensional key which was displayed and used at moers does not make a reappearance. so when a very fast section kicks off, shortly before 12.30, i'm wondering whether we have switched territories again - the last part of the set deals with lewis' "duet 1" (back to the no-frills titles). regardless of when that switch takes place exactly, it's back to monologues now, seductive beauty and furious barks from the clarinet, culminating in more whistles, and yet more brazen brilliance from lewis; as b. takes over again, around 14min, it still sounds remarkably like a braxton territory but then we're presumably in a free space, within a partially prescribed environment, whoever actually conceived it. then it changes again: lewis takes a phrase from b. and jumps around with it, the leader then doing the same, and now the exchanges are much more rapid, each overlapping as an idea is borrowed, imitated, mutated, batted back and forth with increasing abandon until it's no longer recognisable. lewis then sketches out a sort of mournful bugle call, which draws a few inbreaths and laughs and even a clap or two. structures grow and collapse. more organic growth and change. every few seconds could be isolated for inspection.
another switch, to sopranino sax, leads to the latest spectacular demonstration of where all those untold hours of practice went - for a minute or so, the leader really goes crazy but then, as he does, he decides to wind it right down and we're back to another game, the two matching attacks again, both using sighing cadences now, lewis cracking me up again when his crude humour comes to the fore... and finally with the end in sight, there's a sequence of written themes which, to be sure, do sound pretty braxtonesque... but maybe it's more a question of aacm-esque, who knows for sure.
the brief applause is surely edited, otherwise the "encore" begins almost right away, a delightful "donna lee" with which to send everyone off... not feeling the need to make a bold statement with it, the pair play it a little more sedately than one might expect, dropping down a touch to "chattanooga choo-choo" pace; quickly, they dispense with everything apart from the rhythm, both taking back streets away from the theme, but never losing sight of each other - again, they toss ideas to each other at one point in a "round" effect, both in place to pick up the thread of the main theme again and within three minutes, they're in and out, said all that needed to be said.
* * *
if it doesn't have quite the same startling quality as the earlier concert, that's only to be expected since word would have gotten around by now. in any case, for the quality of the music and the improved, better-shaped programme, this has to be a CCCC job as much as the earlier duo. with the main set worked seamlessly into suite form, and the standard popped on the end as a little encapsulation of respect for tradition, deviation from tradition, and continuation of tradition... this one works even better. i'm not totally convinced that the start of the album was the start of the concert, but it does provide a neat symmetry - and it means that the main set both begins and ends in a manner as pleasingly understated as the earlier effort was declamatory. as for the quality of the music, how would we choose between them?
* see comments
session 008: donaueschingen (duo) 1976
date: 23rd october 1976
restructures link
this time around, the duo will play as if they were a group, that is to say the main set will be seamless, no pauses between territories... that's the first notable difference, and the second is that this time it's a lewis composition which kicks things off.
no change in one respect, though - braxton takes first showcase. and it's the monster..! right from the start (of the album at least - was this actually the start of the set?) b. is on contrabass clarinet, that fabulous sound... and for the first minute he puts the instrument through its paces unaccompanied, lewis joining him after a natural pause; both men start to spell out a slow, mournful theme - this is "fred's garden" - but it's a theme which is happy to be interrupted from time to time, lewis taking over solo for a bit, impressing again with his full, ringing tone - and though the two horns return to the theme then, this soon enough gets messed up, and the fourth minute sees the first hints of dual freedom escalate very quickly into full-blown mayhem. by 3.55, with both horns trying to outdo each other in low-pitched blasphemy, it sounds like a bubble-blowing contest in some gas-infested swamp... fantastic! but, as one might have come to expect by now, that's precisely when the balance shifts back again and the next entries from both are clear and melodic, the next section of the long and winding theme being spun carefully out. (in this respect i'm reminded of comp. 23e among others, but only a little bit. the way the theme treads ponderously along, counting itself slowly off - in between explosions of madness - does remind me of some of b's ballad themes, but the whole setup in this case sounds far more akin to free improv. braxton has always claimed not to have been influenced by the euro free guys, simply because his basic style was fully formed before he encountered them, but is the same true of lewis i wonder? more likely the european developments were just one more module on the younger man's "syllabus"..?)
as far as i can tell, this is the only recorded version of lewis' piece. "fred's garden" is perhaps not the cheeriest place to visit, seemingly dark and spooky, inhabited by sparse groupings of gnarled and twisted trees - and there's always that charming swamp over by the compost heap! but in any case it's a good place to start here, providing all the necessary ingredients: tension, strange beauty, absurd humour. more than once, the audience is provoked into delighted laughter - what did we miss? from around the 7.00 min mark, b. switches to sopranino and the two players chase each other around for a while, then fall into march time, both exulting in it (back at moers in june, the same possibility was raised and dropped; in between, we can assume that lewis has rehearsed some of b's march pieces, specifically comp. 6c). here the march is introduced more in the manner of a ticking clock, and it's something which both pick up so quickly that it must (?) have been prearranged - tick, tock, tick, tock, until it becomes clear that this is actually a countdown, and we'd better run for cover before that old land mine of fred's finally explodes... ah, no, maybe it was just a false alarm. but in any case there's (never) any time to look back and reflect at what's been, because what's now is always so compelling: in a microcosm of the duo's basic approach, the next minute or so sees all manner of variations in attack and mood from both players: soaring beauty, crabbed and warped weirdness, it's all there so that even that which is not played is yet implied. outrageous squeals from the braxbird, and more mad laughter... this is the stuff! even at its most edgy, the music is always spirited and lively. stop me if you've heard this one before, but these two players were made for each other.
from around 9 mins, the landscape begins to shift and change, moving by increments towards comp. 6f. this is only unusual because it's a duo; it's standard practice for the quartet, in continuous performance. rarely do we get a clear-cut ending of one territory, leading to the next: rather, as one piece starts to wind down, the basic tessitura of the following piece is established little by little, so that in many cases it's possible to get clues as to what will come next; only when all the key elements are in place will the theme begin, to confirm which area we are now exploring... here, the pair give hints in the form of swift pecks and very fast little linking runs... around 10 mins, there's the theme and within thirty seconds we can see exactly why b. has revived this old piece, surely the longest-serving of his entire repertoire at this point. both men just find it inspirational, and lewis in particular drives the pace hard as both horns toy with dynamic variations, alternating very forceful attacks with very quiet ones. a gentle passage ensues, still urgent in its coded message at this speed, but beautifully restrained; and then, by degrees, the concept of forcefulness is leaked back into the mix - the next couple of minutes see all sorts of variations, again, a perfect holographic fragment of the greater world of possibility that opens up whenever these two men take the stage together.
by 14 mins things have slowed right down, a sleepy trombone puffing out a line of sorts while the clarinet which joins it, though not sleepy at all, still has the usual hypnotic qualities (this bird is nothing if not a charmer). soaring, haunting evensong becomes a playful series of exercises, becomes free improv, all cycles moving organically into each other with deceptive rapidity, the basic texture of the music changing every few seconds but never seeming to change suddenly, not at all. (gtm already implied.) braxton, for sure, will have honed this sort of skill in europe, but also back home with the other aacm masters - and the same traditions presumably already inform the young lewis, the rest being down to his natural ebullience and curiosity as a sound-maker. in any case, however they arrive at this level of wizardry, the upshot for us is that one idea after another is dangled before the listener's ear and an attentive mind will be greatly rewarded. no-one need ever see the title comp. 6f
(or "73 kelvin", etc) on a tracklist and think, "ah, not again, i don't need to bother with that". there is no such thing as a routine version of it. (of course i would hope this is true of all the compositions -!)
the restatement sounds ridiculously fast when it arrives, but they are both so zoned in by now that they just sound as if they're enjoying it (and probably were). in due course they wind it down slow, very slow, lewis collapsing altogether into rasping clouds of flatulence, then singing through the middle of the clouds, and the next clarion calls from the trombone signify the opening of the next territory (*1), comp. 64. so good, they played it twice - this piece was of course the superb opening number for the previous duo, at moers, back in june. and this version, of course, sounds totally different... this just the sort of thing which makes track-listing live recordings so very tricky. but it is specified, there in the catalogue of works (*2): comps 64-8 are "designed for many different interpretational context possibilities". there is something of the same cartoon menace in this performance as there was at moers, but that earlier music was not written out, exactly, and neither is this.
when b. joins the trombone this time, he is on contrabass sax, two monsters now on tour, sending postcards back to the radioactive swamps of neptune, no doubt... the exposition of the piece is far more measured and ruminative than the instant acceleration of the earlier rendition, but still, by 1.30 both are playing forcefully, leaving ringing echoes behind them in the soundspace and at 2.30 we're right in the middle of a brief but very intense storm, b. overcoming his instrument's inherent limitations(*3) by mixing in attacks made fully with the voice and breath. in between, the pair have casually dropped in the first written phrases and around 2.50 they return to these, initiating almost a minute of exchanges which clearly recall the earlier version. when they appear to have locked each other into an unhelpful groove around 4.05-4.10, this turns out to be simply the conclusion of a given passage, signed off with another birdcall motif. 4.30, another emphatic blatt from lewis cues up an exchange of high pitches and squeaks, whistles from the reed, radio static from the brass, yet another excursion which takes us into clouds of noxious gases before it's through, but lewis is just so outrageously good at this. by 5.30 both are down at the opposite end, pooting and blarting like restless ships in a harbour. by 6.30, with the whistles now being mixed in with the poots and blarts, it would be pretty hard to identify the sound sources. lewis now has a mute on - and mr braxton, somehow, has managed to get this most cumbersome of beasts to perform some of the tricks its cousin revels in - indeed the ensuing barnyard conversation exposes so much versatility in the reedmonster that i find myself (later) wondering if it's not a clarinet after all - but i'm pretty sure it's not. in any case, at 7.35 there's a clean break and although the next entries from the leader are more squeaks, he's now on alto as it turns out. pecks and kisses are exchanged (a favourite technique between these two!), interspersed with fast and fluid runs now. then another change, already: squiggles up high become clarinet swoops lower down, and then we're suddenly being shown something quite different.
stately, grandiose monologues come now, and then back into unison, but although both toy with dynamics expertly as they tease out some more written phrases, the multi-dimensional key which was displayed and used at moers does not make a reappearance. so when a very fast section kicks off, shortly before 12.30, i'm wondering whether we have switched territories again - the last part of the set deals with lewis' "duet 1" (back to the no-frills titles). regardless of when that switch takes place exactly, it's back to monologues now, seductive beauty and furious barks from the clarinet, culminating in more whistles, and yet more brazen brilliance from lewis; as b. takes over again, around 14min, it still sounds remarkably like a braxton territory but then we're presumably in a free space, within a partially prescribed environment, whoever actually conceived it. then it changes again: lewis takes a phrase from b. and jumps around with it, the leader then doing the same, and now the exchanges are much more rapid, each overlapping as an idea is borrowed, imitated, mutated, batted back and forth with increasing abandon until it's no longer recognisable. lewis then sketches out a sort of mournful bugle call, which draws a few inbreaths and laughs and even a clap or two. structures grow and collapse. more organic growth and change. every few seconds could be isolated for inspection.
another switch, to sopranino sax, leads to the latest spectacular demonstration of where all those untold hours of practice went - for a minute or so, the leader really goes crazy but then, as he does, he decides to wind it right down and we're back to another game, the two matching attacks again, both using sighing cadences now, lewis cracking me up again when his crude humour comes to the fore... and finally with the end in sight, there's a sequence of written themes which, to be sure, do sound pretty braxtonesque... but maybe it's more a question of aacm-esque, who knows for sure.
the brief applause is surely edited, otherwise the "encore" begins almost right away, a delightful "donna lee" with which to send everyone off... not feeling the need to make a bold statement with it, the pair play it a little more sedately than one might expect, dropping down a touch to "chattanooga choo-choo" pace; quickly, they dispense with everything apart from the rhythm, both taking back streets away from the theme, but never losing sight of each other - again, they toss ideas to each other at one point in a "round" effect, both in place to pick up the thread of the main theme again and within three minutes, they're in and out, said all that needed to be said.
* * *
if it doesn't have quite the same startling quality as the earlier concert, that's only to be expected since word would have gotten around by now. in any case, for the quality of the music and the improved, better-shaped programme, this has to be a CCCC job as much as the earlier duo. with the main set worked seamlessly into suite form, and the standard popped on the end as a little encapsulation of respect for tradition, deviation from tradition, and continuation of tradition... this one works even better. i'm not totally convinced that the start of the album was the start of the concert, but it does provide a neat symmetry - and it means that the main set both begins and ends in a manner as pleasingly understated as the earlier effort was declamatory. as for the quality of the music, how would we choose between them?
* see comments
Saturday, August 9, 2008
*** braxtothon master-list, part one ***
and not before time..!
ok, so the following are links to the original articles, in chronological order. this bit of housekeeping should (finally) make the site a bit more navigable... don't forget, any comments will come through to braxtonhead@gmail.com in the form of unread mail, so any comment on any post will be seen, and will get a reply (anonymous insults remaining the exception to this latter rule). let me know what you think! cent x
october '07 braxtothon, phase one:
introduction/ground rules etc
day one/1 - 3 compositions of new jazz
day one/int.1 - for alto
- see also gap filling, part one
day one/2 - silence
day one/int.2 - the 8th of july 1969
day two/1 - circle - circulus
- also comp. 6f* from another date (early circle/circling in)
day two/2 - the complete braxton 1971 (disc one)
day three/1 - the complete braxton 1971 (disc two)
day three/2 - circle - paris concert (selections)
- also news from the 70s, session one
october '07 braxtothon, phase two:
day four - creative music orchestra (1972)
day five (...)/1 - town hall duo (news..., session two)
day five (...)/2 - town hall trio
day five (...)/3 - town hall quintet
day five/int. - conference of the birds
(WARNING: you probably go to hell if you read this one)
day six/1 - four compositions (1973)
- see also here for specific (attempted) analysis of comp. 23m*
day six/2/pt.1 - châteauvallon 1973 (radio broadcast)
day six/2/pt.2 - châteauvallon 1973 (encore)
- also news from the 70s, session three
day seven/1 - solo - live at moers festival
day seven/2 - live at moers festival (quartet)
bailey day - first duo concert (set one)/royal vol. 1
there was also the following detour:
braxton & mario pavone, nine duets (1993)
ok, so the following are links to the original articles, in chronological order. this bit of housekeeping should (finally) make the site a bit more navigable... don't forget, any comments will come through to braxtonhead@gmail.com in the form of unread mail, so any comment on any post will be seen, and will get a reply (anonymous insults remaining the exception to this latter rule). let me know what you think! cent x
october '07 braxtothon, phase one:
introduction/ground rules etc
day one/1 - 3 compositions of new jazz
day one/int.1 - for alto
- see also gap filling, part one
day one/2 - silence
day one/int.2 - the 8th of july 1969
day two/1 - circle - circulus
- also comp. 6f* from another date (early circle/circling in)
day two/2 - the complete braxton 1971 (disc one)
day three/1 - the complete braxton 1971 (disc two)
day three/2 - circle - paris concert (selections)
- also news from the 70s, session one
october '07 braxtothon, phase two:
day four - creative music orchestra (1972)
day five (...)/1 - town hall duo (news..., session two)
day five (...)/2 - town hall trio
day five (...)/3 - town hall quintet
day five/int. - conference of the birds
(WARNING: you probably go to hell if you read this one)
day six/1 - four compositions (1973)
- see also here for specific (attempted) analysis of comp. 23m*
day six/2/pt.1 - châteauvallon 1973 (radio broadcast)
day six/2/pt.2 - châteauvallon 1973 (encore)
- also news from the 70s, session three
day seven/1 - solo - live at moers festival
day seven/2 - live at moers festival (quartet)
bailey day - first duo concert (set one)/royal vol. 1
there was also the following detour:
braxton & mario pavone, nine duets (1993)
Monday, August 4, 2008
critical massage
heh. it's taken me well over a week to get around to opening up my new books at all - i'm not even talking about the composition notes/tri-axium writings here, those are quite daunting enough for me to have put them off until the end of the current braxtothon phase, as reported previously - so it was only yesterday that i actually made a start on radano, and discovered that he begins his first chapter thus:
for a stretch of time in the mid-1970s, composer-saxophonist anthony braxton stood at the center of a controversy that laid bare the inadequacies of conventional jazz criticism. demonstrating inimitable improvising skills, while simultaneously transgressing traditional aesthetic and social boundaries, braxton challenged critics to come to terms with a creative world that called into question accepted definitions of jazz and the jazz musician.
- hmm, very interesting - tell me more:
their failure to meet that challenge led to a period of confusion, contradiction and myth-making as writers praised braxton's undeniably original jazz work while obfuscating the meaning of his rarefied artistic concepts. the curious, ironic tension between accolade and mocking condescension exposed the limitations of traditonal jazz categories, categories that could not make sense of an artist who responded to the new aesthetic licenses of the postmodern epoch.
right, so - in other words, someone was onto all this bullshit some time before i got here and started making a (very localised) fuss about it. this, after all, is precisely the sort of patronising nonsense i've observed amongst the british critical fraternity, no need to mention any names since - if the truth be known - plenty of them are equally culpable.
don't get me wrong, i am not whining that someone beat me to it. no, on the contrary, it's a relief to realise others are fully aware of the problem. in that case, the next question is: does no-one else think it noteworthy that the cat was out of the bag fifteen years ago (if not before), yet none of the critics did a damn thing about it? admittedly radano's book will not have been widely read outside the u.s. (or even within it, dare i say), but still - did these guys not have any idea that people were onto them?
one needn't be surprised: the capacity for human self-deception is practically infinite, and besides, having an influential voice seems (all too often) to mean not having to listen to anyone else's. (*)
* * *
there'll be more to say on this, i'm sure. i hope also that it will lead to a bit of dialogue... this is precisely the kind of issue i'm interested in discussing here (it goes without saying that i am still happy to discuss the music! but i'll say it anyway, hint hint). as i read on, i will keep readers posted about my reading and subsequent musings... braxtothon continues shortly, and i will also be running the first of a probable short series, examining archetypes in the solo composition books.
incidentally, back on sacred cows again - it occurs to me that as well as surprising myself with my conclusions about the '76 quartets, i shall also have deviated from the "gospel according to lock", just in case any readers thought i was guilty of unquestioning approval of that particular writer ;-)
* yeah, yeah, i'm a fine one to talk... etc.
for a stretch of time in the mid-1970s, composer-saxophonist anthony braxton stood at the center of a controversy that laid bare the inadequacies of conventional jazz criticism. demonstrating inimitable improvising skills, while simultaneously transgressing traditional aesthetic and social boundaries, braxton challenged critics to come to terms with a creative world that called into question accepted definitions of jazz and the jazz musician.
- hmm, very interesting - tell me more:
their failure to meet that challenge led to a period of confusion, contradiction and myth-making as writers praised braxton's undeniably original jazz work while obfuscating the meaning of his rarefied artistic concepts. the curious, ironic tension between accolade and mocking condescension exposed the limitations of traditonal jazz categories, categories that could not make sense of an artist who responded to the new aesthetic licenses of the postmodern epoch.
right, so - in other words, someone was onto all this bullshit some time before i got here and started making a (very localised) fuss about it. this, after all, is precisely the sort of patronising nonsense i've observed amongst the british critical fraternity, no need to mention any names since - if the truth be known - plenty of them are equally culpable.
don't get me wrong, i am not whining that someone beat me to it. no, on the contrary, it's a relief to realise others are fully aware of the problem. in that case, the next question is: does no-one else think it noteworthy that the cat was out of the bag fifteen years ago (if not before), yet none of the critics did a damn thing about it? admittedly radano's book will not have been widely read outside the u.s. (or even within it, dare i say), but still - did these guys not have any idea that people were onto them?
one needn't be surprised: the capacity for human self-deception is practically infinite, and besides, having an influential voice seems (all too often) to mean not having to listen to anyone else's. (*)
* * *
there'll be more to say on this, i'm sure. i hope also that it will lead to a bit of dialogue... this is precisely the kind of issue i'm interested in discussing here (it goes without saying that i am still happy to discuss the music! but i'll say it anyway, hint hint). as i read on, i will keep readers posted about my reading and subsequent musings... braxtothon continues shortly, and i will also be running the first of a probable short series, examining archetypes in the solo composition books.
incidentally, back on sacred cows again - it occurs to me that as well as surprising myself with my conclusions about the '76 quartets, i shall also have deviated from the "gospel according to lock", just in case any readers thought i was guilty of unquestioning approval of that particular writer ;-)
* yeah, yeah, i'm a fine one to talk... etc.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
braxtothon '08: a quick recap
so... where was i? oh yes, stranded in '76... for a number of reasons, the braxtothon has made far less progress this summer than i'd envisaged. as reported previously, the short piece i wrote (more than two months ago) detailing some of the week two behind-the-scenes stuff and looking ahead to "week three" (one day, two sessions) now seems totally outdated and irrelevant. this replaces it, then.
one of the reasons for my inactivity may perhaps be a slight sense of anticlimax. 1976, filled with all manner of discographical treasures, keeps the chronological explorer waiting (and waiting some more) for the return of the working group - the quartet - and part of me was champing at the bit to get there. the band had really needed some new blood, and with kenny wheeler (apparently willing, but unable to push on any further) replaced by george lewis, it would be fascinating to see how this affected the working quartet, what new heights it could attain as a result.
but when i did finally get there, i experienced a definite feeling of deflation, albeit one which took time to sink in properly. put simply with hindsight, by the time the quartet recordings arrived, i was unable to avoid the conclusion that the rhythm section had already produced its best work in this group and had almost nothing left. the quartets now seem rather flat and uninspired, especially (this is the crux of the matter) when compared to the pair of astonishing reeds-and-trombone duos which precede them. yes, this is even true of dortmund.
how ironic: way back (as it now seems) when i dealt irreverently with conference of the birds, i was taken to task by several people who cherish that recording, and at least two of them suggested that not only was i being grossly unfair in treating their sacred cow so shabbily, i would balk at being so ruthless with my own (understandably but quite incorrectly, some readers assumed that i have been listening to braxton for years and years and have carried the aristas with me from my youth, as some of them have the holland album). but this has not been the case, nor do i think it ever could be: i haven't been at it for years at all, much of the material came into my collection very recently and is largely unfamiliar to me... and the actual listening sessions are usually so intense that they tend to wipe out any trace memories of previous hearings. this was not quite true of new york, fall 1974 admittedly - yet attentive readers will still have noted that i pulled up well short of declaring that album an unqualified masterwork (let alone the "best" album of b's career, as some critics have glibly suggested). and in the case of dortmund, an album i loved and had recommended to several people as an ideal introduction to b's work..? again, one listening did not quite overrule previous familiarity; but still, by the time i got to it, i simply could not avoid the sense that something was missing - something important. so: ironic, because i *do* seek to update my own impressions, and am therefore usually doomed to slaughter my own sacred cows, whether i intend to or not. i find that the overall gain nevertheless outweighs the (perceived) loss.
* * *
the above is partly an attempted explanation of my slow progress, and partly an advance warning: there are disappointments coming up, at least for any readers who have been eagerly waiting for me to announce that dortmund is the greatest album in the history of the world (etc etc). not gonna happen. but let's not get too far ahead of ourselves here: individual sessions brought their own conclusions, of course, and besides, there is still plenty to enjoy in what's coming up. and here's what's coming up: first, the second duo with lewis (donaueschingen, session 008); and then eastwards to graz. and whilst i gave a spin to the final (in both respects) cut of news from the 70s, just to check it really is the same concert, i have the whole show from graz and that is actually session 009, not just the single dave holland piece. session 010 is dortmund, of course - then things get a little complicated; session 011 will be berlin (haven't actually got there yet... told you i was stranded), but it will also take in montreux first, which was technically covered in session 004 but never written up of course. there's taking time and letting impressions settle, and then there's just losing momentum altogether, and somewhere along the line the one became the other... but i'm still here, and the journey will continue. at this point, no promises at all about how long it will eventually take..! please bear with me, it is a learning process...
[the berlin concert is not the last entry for 1976, of course: that'll be the sackville duets with roscoe mitchell, issued under the latter's name, writing duties split down the middle. but that now strikes me as leading far more clearly into the future than the quartet recordings, which essentially now seem to me to represent the past; and besides, it will make sense to tack onto that session the one track from mitchell's nonaah album which features braxton - another duet, recorded in jan '77. accordingly, there can be no neat conclusion to this demanding year anyway; and berlin will therefore mark the end of another phase for the braxtothon... just as it did for the the working group.]
one of the reasons for my inactivity may perhaps be a slight sense of anticlimax. 1976, filled with all manner of discographical treasures, keeps the chronological explorer waiting (and waiting some more) for the return of the working group - the quartet - and part of me was champing at the bit to get there. the band had really needed some new blood, and with kenny wheeler (apparently willing, but unable to push on any further) replaced by george lewis, it would be fascinating to see how this affected the working quartet, what new heights it could attain as a result.
but when i did finally get there, i experienced a definite feeling of deflation, albeit one which took time to sink in properly. put simply with hindsight, by the time the quartet recordings arrived, i was unable to avoid the conclusion that the rhythm section had already produced its best work in this group and had almost nothing left. the quartets now seem rather flat and uninspired, especially (this is the crux of the matter) when compared to the pair of astonishing reeds-and-trombone duos which precede them. yes, this is even true of dortmund.
how ironic: way back (as it now seems) when i dealt irreverently with conference of the birds, i was taken to task by several people who cherish that recording, and at least two of them suggested that not only was i being grossly unfair in treating their sacred cow so shabbily, i would balk at being so ruthless with my own (understandably but quite incorrectly, some readers assumed that i have been listening to braxton for years and years and have carried the aristas with me from my youth, as some of them have the holland album). but this has not been the case, nor do i think it ever could be: i haven't been at it for years at all, much of the material came into my collection very recently and is largely unfamiliar to me... and the actual listening sessions are usually so intense that they tend to wipe out any trace memories of previous hearings. this was not quite true of new york, fall 1974 admittedly - yet attentive readers will still have noted that i pulled up well short of declaring that album an unqualified masterwork (let alone the "best" album of b's career, as some critics have glibly suggested). and in the case of dortmund, an album i loved and had recommended to several people as an ideal introduction to b's work..? again, one listening did not quite overrule previous familiarity; but still, by the time i got to it, i simply could not avoid the sense that something was missing - something important. so: ironic, because i *do* seek to update my own impressions, and am therefore usually doomed to slaughter my own sacred cows, whether i intend to or not. i find that the overall gain nevertheless outweighs the (perceived) loss.
* * *
the above is partly an attempted explanation of my slow progress, and partly an advance warning: there are disappointments coming up, at least for any readers who have been eagerly waiting for me to announce that dortmund is the greatest album in the history of the world (etc etc). not gonna happen. but let's not get too far ahead of ourselves here: individual sessions brought their own conclusions, of course, and besides, there is still plenty to enjoy in what's coming up. and here's what's coming up: first, the second duo with lewis (donaueschingen, session 008); and then eastwards to graz. and whilst i gave a spin to the final (in both respects) cut of news from the 70s, just to check it really is the same concert, i have the whole show from graz and that is actually session 009, not just the single dave holland piece. session 010 is dortmund, of course - then things get a little complicated; session 011 will be berlin (haven't actually got there yet... told you i was stranded), but it will also take in montreux first, which was technically covered in session 004 but never written up of course. there's taking time and letting impressions settle, and then there's just losing momentum altogether, and somewhere along the line the one became the other... but i'm still here, and the journey will continue. at this point, no promises at all about how long it will eventually take..! please bear with me, it is a learning process...
[the berlin concert is not the last entry for 1976, of course: that'll be the sackville duets with roscoe mitchell, issued under the latter's name, writing duties split down the middle. but that now strikes me as leading far more clearly into the future than the quartet recordings, which essentially now seem to me to represent the past; and besides, it will make sense to tack onto that session the one track from mitchell's nonaah album which features braxton - another duet, recorded in jan '77. accordingly, there can be no neat conclusion to this demanding year anyway; and berlin will therefore mark the end of another phase for the braxtothon... just as it did for the the working group.]
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
total immersion
"these cds offer nine portals to another world: a world with its own set of rules, its own geography, its own sense of time, its own opportunities. a world that we can learn from and be inspired by"
- taylor ho bynum (liners to 9 compositions (iridium) 2006)
in the end, i made myself wait an entire year before buying the iridium box set. there's a number of reasons for that, none of which need airing here. the main thing is that this year, i sorted out my own birthday present in advance and made sure i ordered it in plenty of time. it arrived a few days before, and i allowed myself to unpack it, but only to check that the contents were correct and had arrived in one piece - ! no sneak peeks, no breaking the seal of the shrinkwrap, no removal of the bubblewrap jacket, even... i simply permitted myself to hold it for a moment or two, feeling its reassuring weight, tantalising myself even further...
on the day itself, things worked out pretty well. mrs c had been unable to get out of going to work, so i figured out beforehand that there would be just about enough time to play the entire thing in her absence... and that's exactly what i set about doing, the minute the car pulled away. no, i'm not insane: i had no intention of trying to absorb every nuance, braxtothon-style; the music was played, and it filled the house, providing the backdrop to the day as i went slowly about my business.
* * *
i didn't read any of the liners until a couple of days later, and when i did i was pleasantly surprised to read the short article by thb, from which the above epigraph is taken. this is exactly the sort of conclusion i had reached on my own recently, regarding ghost trance music in general - it's the instant sidestep effect to which i referred in the third gtm day post. each gtm piece is a key to another plane of existence, a world to be inhabited and explored, rather than a linear progression or journey. i had also suggested (in the second such post) that each gtm piece is like a museum or art gallery, containing any number of different rooms, only a small number of which may be visited on any given occasion. but this collection is apparently one gigantic gallery all in itself, and each set within it represents, say, one wing or suite of rooms... these performances clearly take us to the same alternate world, each time. and although the nine pieces were performed over four successive nights, today i found that listening to them in sequence, with no more breaks than are necessary to change discs, feels perfectly natural, indeed it seems now that such is the way the music was meant to be heard: each piece begins with the main theme, as always in this type of music, and each ends quite abruptly, as if ready to lead directly into the next. no, for the sake of the players and listeners, that is not the way these pieces were performed; yet the istanbul concert, for example, shows how this seamless sequencing might work.
within seconds of the first set i find myself transported, and feel not only captivated but nourished. as i've said, the first gtm day saw me in severe pain, pain which lasted for several months, on and off, but which culminated in almost a week during which i was scarcely free of it for a minute or two at a time. eventually i found the key to ridding myself of it, and in the process i threw out a whole load of useless baggage from my childhood. in the few days which followed, i often felt as if my head and chest were hollow, a huge empty space, waiting to be filled up with good things. what better than this? again, at the risk of repeating myself: these are the ultimate nurturing spaces, timeless capsules within which no-one is judged, and everything is not only possible but permitted. as bandleader and teacher, mr braxton has been heading in this direction for a long time now, fostering an atmosphere in which all his musicians were required to bring only themselves to the music, and which encouraged them always to do their best. for the time being, at least, this gorgeous box set (and the packaging itself is beautiful enough to fetishise) represents the epitome of this attitude. in size, in variety, in the number of different threads of the composer's music which are woven together, it really does seem to be "THE point of definition" in (b's) work thus far".
* * *
the music, as usual, changes every few seconds. groups and subgroups form and come apart, ideas converge and diverge. the one and only time (can't remember when this was) that i found myself hearing an apparent groove, immediately rocking along with it, i no sooner formed the thought that this was startling and unexpected than it had broken up again, replaced by something so different that it at once became a flicker in the memory, one distant impression among thousands. i know that i was most frequently aware of mary halvorson, the one musician (i later ascertain) who is hardest to spot visually, onstage: yet she is so often right in the thick of all that is happening, and there seems to be no end to the multiplicity of ideas and sounds which she can call forth. of course, i am also continually aware of the leader, whose marvellous solo voice is so deeply ingrained in my consciousness by now - i still find it very hard to tell the other reed players apart, at this stage.
it is a delight to spot fragments of previous "greatest hits", such as comp. 40b or comp. 23h or comp. 52; some of these recur over the course of the series, cropping up several times, in different contexts, played by different subgroups and at different tempos. but above all, it is a delight of the profoundest kind to know that the amount of music contained in this box is effectively almost limitless: no matter how many times one listens, there must, surely, always be more to discover. this, i know long before i am finished, is my favourite anthony braxton recording: one reader did keep asking, until i eventually persuaded him to desist... well, now i can answer. in fact, it's probably my favourite album, simple as that: these nine sets, taken as one kaleidoscopic whole, this sprawling castle of mirrors and false walls... i have found my desert island music. by the time the ship arrived to rescue me, i could be long past caring.
* * *
very little was retained, afterwards. and, just as with the first gtm day, i find that it's impossible for me to know afterwards what i can take away from the experience. the very end comes as an anticlimax, much as it did on that first day: this time, mrs c arrives home about ten mins before the end of the last set, and although i greet her quickly and whisk myself back upstairs to finish, the spell is broken. but then the end must always come as an anticlimax: the end of the last set is no different from the others - it simply hovers in mid air, pregnant with possibility, ready to interlock with another piece. time means nothing here, so there can be no true endings.
one thing that did happen, though, for what it's worth... with a july birthday, in my youth i found i could pretty much always count on good weather on the day. for years this was the case, and it became self-perpetuating: however bad the weather was before or after it, on that day it would always be fine. this lasted until i turned thirty: on my birthday that year, it rained, and i could scarcely believe it. all my plans for the day (and they were hardly grand designs) were scuppered. and with the pattern broken, every year since has seen rain on the day (except once - see pic and comments). this year was no different - or was it? looking out of the open back door into the garden, a few minutes after the rain started, i found myself taking a deep breath and thinking how lovely and refreshing the rain was... this is never my reaction to rain, which usually depresses my spirits, and the thought took me so much by surprise that it was almost as if someone else had thought it... but there it was, whatever that means...
- taylor ho bynum (liners to 9 compositions (iridium) 2006)
in the end, i made myself wait an entire year before buying the iridium box set. there's a number of reasons for that, none of which need airing here. the main thing is that this year, i sorted out my own birthday present in advance and made sure i ordered it in plenty of time. it arrived a few days before, and i allowed myself to unpack it, but only to check that the contents were correct and had arrived in one piece - ! no sneak peeks, no breaking the seal of the shrinkwrap, no removal of the bubblewrap jacket, even... i simply permitted myself to hold it for a moment or two, feeling its reassuring weight, tantalising myself even further...
on the day itself, things worked out pretty well. mrs c had been unable to get out of going to work, so i figured out beforehand that there would be just about enough time to play the entire thing in her absence... and that's exactly what i set about doing, the minute the car pulled away. no, i'm not insane: i had no intention of trying to absorb every nuance, braxtothon-style; the music was played, and it filled the house, providing the backdrop to the day as i went slowly about my business.
* * *
i didn't read any of the liners until a couple of days later, and when i did i was pleasantly surprised to read the short article by thb, from which the above epigraph is taken. this is exactly the sort of conclusion i had reached on my own recently, regarding ghost trance music in general - it's the instant sidestep effect to which i referred in the third gtm day post. each gtm piece is a key to another plane of existence, a world to be inhabited and explored, rather than a linear progression or journey. i had also suggested (in the second such post) that each gtm piece is like a museum or art gallery, containing any number of different rooms, only a small number of which may be visited on any given occasion. but this collection is apparently one gigantic gallery all in itself, and each set within it represents, say, one wing or suite of rooms... these performances clearly take us to the same alternate world, each time. and although the nine pieces were performed over four successive nights, today i found that listening to them in sequence, with no more breaks than are necessary to change discs, feels perfectly natural, indeed it seems now that such is the way the music was meant to be heard: each piece begins with the main theme, as always in this type of music, and each ends quite abruptly, as if ready to lead directly into the next. no, for the sake of the players and listeners, that is not the way these pieces were performed; yet the istanbul concert, for example, shows how this seamless sequencing might work.
within seconds of the first set i find myself transported, and feel not only captivated but nourished. as i've said, the first gtm day saw me in severe pain, pain which lasted for several months, on and off, but which culminated in almost a week during which i was scarcely free of it for a minute or two at a time. eventually i found the key to ridding myself of it, and in the process i threw out a whole load of useless baggage from my childhood. in the few days which followed, i often felt as if my head and chest were hollow, a huge empty space, waiting to be filled up with good things. what better than this? again, at the risk of repeating myself: these are the ultimate nurturing spaces, timeless capsules within which no-one is judged, and everything is not only possible but permitted. as bandleader and teacher, mr braxton has been heading in this direction for a long time now, fostering an atmosphere in which all his musicians were required to bring only themselves to the music, and which encouraged them always to do their best. for the time being, at least, this gorgeous box set (and the packaging itself is beautiful enough to fetishise) represents the epitome of this attitude. in size, in variety, in the number of different threads of the composer's music which are woven together, it really does seem to be "THE point of definition" in (b's) work thus far".
* * *
the music, as usual, changes every few seconds. groups and subgroups form and come apart, ideas converge and diverge. the one and only time (can't remember when this was) that i found myself hearing an apparent groove, immediately rocking along with it, i no sooner formed the thought that this was startling and unexpected than it had broken up again, replaced by something so different that it at once became a flicker in the memory, one distant impression among thousands. i know that i was most frequently aware of mary halvorson, the one musician (i later ascertain) who is hardest to spot visually, onstage: yet she is so often right in the thick of all that is happening, and there seems to be no end to the multiplicity of ideas and sounds which she can call forth. of course, i am also continually aware of the leader, whose marvellous solo voice is so deeply ingrained in my consciousness by now - i still find it very hard to tell the other reed players apart, at this stage.
it is a delight to spot fragments of previous "greatest hits", such as comp. 40b or comp. 23h or comp. 52; some of these recur over the course of the series, cropping up several times, in different contexts, played by different subgroups and at different tempos. but above all, it is a delight of the profoundest kind to know that the amount of music contained in this box is effectively almost limitless: no matter how many times one listens, there must, surely, always be more to discover. this, i know long before i am finished, is my favourite anthony braxton recording: one reader did keep asking, until i eventually persuaded him to desist... well, now i can answer. in fact, it's probably my favourite album, simple as that: these nine sets, taken as one kaleidoscopic whole, this sprawling castle of mirrors and false walls... i have found my desert island music. by the time the ship arrived to rescue me, i could be long past caring.
* * *
very little was retained, afterwards. and, just as with the first gtm day, i find that it's impossible for me to know afterwards what i can take away from the experience. the very end comes as an anticlimax, much as it did on that first day: this time, mrs c arrives home about ten mins before the end of the last set, and although i greet her quickly and whisk myself back upstairs to finish, the spell is broken. but then the end must always come as an anticlimax: the end of the last set is no different from the others - it simply hovers in mid air, pregnant with possibility, ready to interlock with another piece. time means nothing here, so there can be no true endings.
one thing that did happen, though, for what it's worth... with a july birthday, in my youth i found i could pretty much always count on good weather on the day. for years this was the case, and it became self-perpetuating: however bad the weather was before or after it, on that day it would always be fine. this lasted until i turned thirty: on my birthday that year, it rained, and i could scarcely believe it. all my plans for the day (and they were hardly grand designs) were scuppered. and with the pattern broken, every year since has seen rain on the day (except once - see pic and comments). this year was no different - or was it? looking out of the open back door into the garden, a few minutes after the rain started, i found myself taking a deep breath and thinking how lovely and refreshing the rain was... this is never my reaction to rain, which usually depresses my spirits, and the thought took me so much by surprise that it was almost as if someone else had thought it... but there it was, whatever that means...
Monday, July 21, 2008
still here...
... yes, in case anyone is wondering, i haven't disappeared off the face of the earth, have just been unusually busy in my day job of late, with not much time to myself, and too tired/frazzled to write much... also, the little link piece i had lined up, detailing the end of the week two posts and the start of "week three" (one single day with only two sessions), no longer looked relevant by the time i got round to thinking about posting it. somehow i thought i would be moving a lot faster than this! in the event it's been a bit of a slow drag... but then there are various reasons for that, most of which i'm not planning to go into here...
... one thing i do want to share with you: last week saw a rather special package arrive from the states, namely the complete published writings of anthony braxton (tri-axium writings 1-3, composition notes A-E). i mention this simply because once i start delving into those, this will inevitably mark the beginning of another new phase - in my studies of the man's work generally, and specifically in the braxtothon. although the composition notes only go up as far as the 119 series (the seventh book of solo pieces - * see comments), all of the albums and concerts i will be covering over the next few months at least (could be years, at this rate!) will be drawing on material which is detailed in these books - there's no way of avoiding it, once i get stuck into the man's own writings, i am bound to have a very different perspective on his work.
- the current phase will continue for just a little while longer - until after the berlin concert, to be specific. more to be said on the 1976 quartets very soon, before the next round of braxtothon sessions as such.
* * *
two late birthday presents also arrived at the weekend: the george lewis book, which i am really looking forward to reading, and new musical figurations: anthony braxton's cultural critique by ronald m. radano. this latter book, published in 1993 by the university of chicago press, never seems to get discussed or even mentioned... but it will get mentioned here, in due course!
... one thing i do want to share with you: last week saw a rather special package arrive from the states, namely the complete published writings of anthony braxton (tri-axium writings 1-3, composition notes A-E). i mention this simply because once i start delving into those, this will inevitably mark the beginning of another new phase - in my studies of the man's work generally, and specifically in the braxtothon. although the composition notes only go up as far as the 119 series (the seventh book of solo pieces - * see comments), all of the albums and concerts i will be covering over the next few months at least (could be years, at this rate!) will be drawing on material which is detailed in these books - there's no way of avoiding it, once i get stuck into the man's own writings, i am bound to have a very different perspective on his work.
- the current phase will continue for just a little while longer - until after the berlin concert, to be specific. more to be said on the 1976 quartets very soon, before the next round of braxtothon sessions as such.
* * *
two late birthday presents also arrived at the weekend: the george lewis book, which i am really looking forward to reading, and new musical figurations: anthony braxton's cultural critique by ronald m. radano. this latter book, published in 1993 by the university of chicago press, never seems to get discussed or even mentioned... but it will get mentioned here, in due course!
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