braxtothon phase 4: session 011a

- and we're finally there: the last concert given by the '76 quartet (or at least the portions of it which made it onto record)...

session 011a: the berlin concerts (quartets)
date: 4th november 1976

restructures link

[it's (maybe) worth pointing out that the berlin segment of the original double album - the montreux/berlin concerts - commences halfway through side two (of four, obviously); this may sound a little unbalanced, with only a side and a half given over to the '75 band, until one recalls that the fourth side is entirely filled by the orchestral piece (session 011b, article to follow). this therefore rather neatly splits the two quartets' contributions into a side and a half apiece. (yes, there is more from the berlin performances than from montreux, but given the special circumstances this is wholly appropriate.) in the listening sessions, the montreux and berlin segments were separated of course (*1), so that comp. 6c marked the beginning of the session; but this would not have been how most vinyl listeners would have experienced it (unless they chose to do something similar, necessitating some very precise work with the stylus!). since we are presently considering an album, featuring selected highlights from a performance rather than an unedited concert, i just think it's worth bearing all this in mind. and now..!]

1. the old "london bus" phenomenon (as it's known on this side of the pond): a composition waits years for a recording and then two come along at once. composed back in 1967, the original circus march has been "played... in many different contexts both in america as well as europe" (*2), but this was the first time it got officially released; of course, a while later the dortmund concert came out too, thus providing the modern listener with two renditions from consecutive concerts. [i have at least one later version on a bootleg recording - from 1983, also with lewis - but none from earlier than 1976. exactly which band(s) played it, and when, i couldn't say; and that of course reminds us of the impossibility of my self-appointed task, namely to track the music's development over time (*3); but as i've said before, the piece ideally suits lewis and it doesn't surprise me to see it on successive setlists for this version of the quartet. (i really can't see how it would have worked with wheeler... though very possibly it was tried..?)]

- this time, at least as far as the recording is concerned, there is less of a gradual buildup. the track opens with holland counting out a march tempo, woodblock taps from altschul, and appropriately light-hearted sounds from the two horns - right away, the familiar atmosphere is conjured up. there is a little preamble before the main theme is joined: and lewis is on fine form, playing with such easy humour that his terrific speed in these opening moments might be overlooked (though maybe it wasn't at the time, by attentive audience members (*4)); for that matter, the leader sounds fantastic also, captured in close, intimate clarity here... this concert having been professionally recorded for an official release, there is very little echo in evidence and no audience noise (at least, not during the actual performance). funnily enough, though both of these things would usually count as positives for a live recording, in the case of this number the end result sounds a little lifeless compared to dortmund, with its huge, spacious echo and noisy crowd - it just so happens that those qualities are suited to this piece! still: if this rendition somewhat lacks ambience, it makes up for that in due course.

with so little preamble, the main theme begins around 0.42. this is the one part of the piece which is largely predictable, of course. by 1.50, lewis is blasting away at the audience with such force that the lack of echo on the recording is almost defeated; but this is something of a red herring, because for the most part, this comes across as a more restrained, slightly subdued rendition compared to the previous one; shortly after the 'bone's blasphemous blats, the leader whips out the contrabass sax - but although this sounds fantastically suitable here, things are kept fairly low-key in terms of momentum and by 3.15 b. is back on alto; then again, when proceedings do reach a peak later, it gets pretty heated. in fact, the intensity ebbs and flows considerably this time around, and after some very clear, very high notes from the leader (which have my ears temporarily wondering what horn he's on after all), the 4 minute mark sees the vehicle gathering steam... which is nevertheless allowed to subside again. my initial impressions (during the actual session, and never mind how long ago that took place...) were that this version of the piece is "less spicy and urgent, but with deeper and probably more rewarding detail to make up for the missing atmosphere".

from the 5-min mark on, the march is completely broken up and are we in open space. lewis delights me once again around 6.00ish, with some very simple variations which manage to sound both ironic and beautiful at once. [in the right - some would say "wrong"! - frame of mind, i could go on and on about the trombonist's incredible, unmistakeable tone on his instrument... just as i could about the leader's.] typically enough, by now the march is back in force, and the two horns are working up one of their "shared thoughts" - but this time, instead of exchanging kisses (a la dortmund), they are looking for something else, and in due course they find it. by 6.45, a simple rhythmic motif has been settled on by them both, and this intensifies over the next few repetitions, altschul responding, the three of them stoking a fire as 7 mins ticks off, building towards the aformentioned peak: by 7.40 these three are at full throttle, buzzing away like a swarm of angry hornets, though it must be said that it takes holland much longer to get in on the act (*5). by 8 mins, a scorching climax is reached and from here, of course, there is nowhere to go but down, the accumulated energy gradually elapsing back into the mix, holland belatedly getting excited and playing a touch too fast (8.25 ish) as he sets up the march once again for the close. the horns let us down gently with the restatement... and a fairly schizoid incarnation of this glorious piece is complete, warm applause now audible for the first time as the band take a break.

2a. appropriately enough, this breather marks the end of the vinyl side 2. side 3 is unindexed and contains one single track, but this is actually one of those "mini-suites" which were the (concert) norm around this time, comprising two different territories (*6). first up, it's our old friend comp. 6f, the original kelvin-series repetition structure, appearing here for the last time in the official discography. that is to say - the last time chronologically, and therefore from the perspective of the braxtothon. the donaueschingen duo version was recorded earlier the same year, for example - though not released until '94. (and who's to say that other concerts from this period won't yet make it onto disc..?) still: regardless of what was available when, and notwithstanding lewis' evident appetite (at least back then) for playing the repetition structures, this is now the fifth time i've covered a recording containing this piece; it's even the third with lewis, after the wildflowers one-off and the aformentioned duo. no, those other two did not feature the working group, but still... i don't need to hear any more versions of this piece unless something spectacular happens..! and nothing out of the ordinary does happen this time, so for once i'm going to free myself (and indeed the reader!) from the tyranny of analysis by the clock, and just make a few observations.

the reading sounds perfect despite a very brisk tempo, but this is not really anything unusual for this band. (it may have been the case that the rapid tempo was necessary to prevent the rhythm section from going off the boil..? they could play this blindfold by now. then again, fast is more or less normal for this number.) with the lengthy theme out of the way, b. is not long in whipping out the monster, and since there is not really any "hat-changing" in this rendition to speak of (cf. my impressions of this much earlier version with the same r-section), there ensues what is effectively a recital for the contrabass clarinet. not that there'sanything wrong with that, and indeed it leads to some pretty good interplay with the trombone, lewis' subvocalisations sounding witty and appropriate as usual. now come the flutters and kisses (rather than in the circus march, where i looked for them), with holland and altschul laying out; holland bows his way back in, the audience applauds the horns graciously, and the bass and sparse drums are then joined by flute, which i haven't heard for a while. we are still very much in the original territory as the 7.00 minute mark is passed (just in case anyone needs a signpost here...), but the most noteworthy occurrence is b's tiny quote (7.29) from what i wrongly identified at first as "lonely woman" but is actually "'round midnight"; as is very often the case, b. reminds me more of dolphy on flute than he does at any other time (just listen to those lovely swoops). some carefully-maintained tension eases off into a very busy percussion solo, interrupted just briefly (9.05ish) by a quick, urgent horn signal (*7) which foreshadows the fast-approaching next territory.

2b. altschul builds up a fair head of steam with his solo, and this prepares us for something very different. when the leader's clarinet enters with the trombone, we are in the familiar position of cruising along at gathering speed, heading down the slip-road to the next territory, elements of which pop into view as the two horns fire staccato bursts back and forth. the bass is locked into the groove by now and when the horns drop out briefly, we know the next theme is imminent. sure enough, at 10.13 sharp (*8) the horns re-enter in lock-step and comp. 40k begins. this features a long, complex theme which is immediately reminiscent of earlier "neo-bop" pieces we've heard from b's pen (comps. 23b and 23j etc), but even trickier to negotiate and way harder to predict, winding as it does up and down in a series of staircases or crenellations, pausing at intervals before resuming; the whole theme takes just over a minute to play in its entirety and actually ends up reminding me most of all of (the decidedly unjazzy) comp. 23m. - this only in afterthought, though, analysing the piece and checking for "siblings"; it really is another one of the professor's skewed jazz lines, nothing more experimental than that. despite the bop flavouring of the theme, the instrumentation at once suggested to me (the second version of) jimmy giuffre's first trio, with (valve-)trombonist bob brookmeyer. (*9)

immediately after the theme - which is tricky enough for a few tiny misses and semi-fluffs to crop up along the way - solo space is ceded to lewis. now, in the case of a clarinet number, this is not the leader's main axe, so it's not particularly unusual for someone else to get first bite of the solo cherry; but it's also possible that our man has learned from earlier concerts with this sideman and doesn't want the trombone to be the last thing the audience remembers hearing..! the german audience, most (if not all) of them surely well versed in the virtuoso playing of albert mangelsdorff, will be lapping up the magnificent trombone display they are witnessing tonight, and are bound to go home talking about it; but that doesn't have to be the only impression they take away with them! (*10) following lewis at this stage in the proceedings is a pretty shrewd move... the other thing that occurred to me (straight away, in the original session) was that lewis's solo, at three and half minutes, occupies far more room than was usually taken by his (rather more self-effacing) predecessor in the brass chair. there's no way round it, lewis just has a much bigger presence, and not just physically.

lewis' solo begins boppishly enough (in principle - in practice none of the bop-era trombonists could play with anything like this sort of articulation), and we know from previous hearings that he can drop in and out of that style when it pleases him; but within thirty seconds he's already unleashing some of the formidable tricks he has up his sleeve: delicate smears and slurs, tremendous speed, and most of all the whole is demonstrably a long-form construction, just like one of the leader's. i repeat, trombone aficionados in the audience will be drinking this in with delight... and the band benefits from it too, in the interplay which is on offer. where sometimes (all too often, in my recollection) wheeler's solos were greeted with restraint and general uncertainty, lewis and altschul in particular play off each other very effectively indeed. just before the end of the solo (14.37 in my file), the two connect perfectly on a three-note repetition which neither seems to have set up in any predictable way (*11); this sort of synchronicity just didn't happen with wheeler. (or if it did... i just don't seem to remember it. but...)

b's clarinet solo follows and is just magnificently fluid and exciting... just to make sure that both horn soloists are on the lips of the audience members when they leave..! highlights of this typically complex improvisation include the effortless low/high trills beginning 15.47, a gorgeous bent note at 16.32 - and plenty more of the same, prolonged from 17.40 onwards; from 18 mins on, there is a series of stunningly precise, detailed distorted attacks using varying amounts of subvocalisation - this being a speciality of b's since the early days and ever after (and who knows how many hours of continual practice have gone into it). around 19 mins, shortly before he signs off, our man teases out another delightful series of trills. these are just a few fleeting moments i'm choosing to single out: the entire solo, as is very nearly always the case (*12), rewards close listening. (i am not just gushing for the sake of it here!)

throughout the last eight minutes holland has just plugged away, solid and dependable as ever, never once losing the beat but never actually contributing to anything either. (*13) now he embarks on what was presumably his last ever solo with this band... altschul drops onto soft brushes for this, leaving holland alone in the spotlight as it were, and there's nothing wrong with the solo, which contains a bit of muscle and movement to go with the left-hand acrobatics (always that supremely confident, wonderfully springy tone in his pizzicato playing), but... this is just the sound of tedium for me by now, and in truth it's a relief when it's over. the restatement is then set up in a familiar fashion, by way of a quick free-for-all; and without any fluffs this time, the theme is played out, finishing emphatically with a single stabbed note, which marks the full stop at the end of this chapter in the music's story.

***

that's not it for the album, don't forget - side four, the creative orchestra performance, is still to come, hence no grading just yet - but as far as i know that is it for this rhythm section, after almost six years. it's been a long journey, and it seems odd to think that there will finally be a change of personnel at the back of the stage from this point on... but in truth it's not before time.


* see comments

... more collage details

- i've been meaning for a few weeks to do a follow-up on that last post..! (the usual old reasons for the inactivity, plus special circumstances over the last week... i'm going to mention this briefly below.) basically, last time round an anonymous comment prompted me to contact alexander hawkins directly, and ask him about the identity of the first/main piece in the collage; he was kind enough to reply, and we discussed the whole business in some detail. i was wrong in a number of my conclusions and assumptions, as it turns out.

first things first: the opening piece is, indeed, comp. 69i. (hence the collage title is comp. 69i + 6(o) + 40(o)... the bbc setlist *almost* had it correctly after all!) as has already been established, this piece (from the fourth book of compositions for creative ensemble) has never been officially recorded*; hawkins confirmed that he does, in fact, have the original score - so much for that assumption of mine. (as a matter of fact the pianist owns quite a few braxton scores - and why did i presume that he would not? yes, he's young and british... so what? i already knew that composers often collect scores... obvious enough really... b. himself did so from a pretty young age.)

next admission: i was probably being overly pedantic (surely not..!) when i corrected hawkins about the music being "written for quartet"... it's true, it wasn't as such; but then the phrase "quartet music" is (apparently) how some of the musicians tend to describe the creative ensemble songbooks (6 series, 23 series, 40 series, 69 series) - and in fact b. himself uses the same phrase at times in the composition notes, as i discovered when i went away to look -!

one thing we did end up agreeing on is the unsuitability of the term "medley" to describe this sort of performance; the fact that the term was used in the original broadcast was what had led me to expect, for example, that comp. 40(o) would be played at least once through in unison before anything else was done with it; but this (as i said in the last post) is a collage, to use the term b. himself employed in the mid-eighties, and there is no reason to expect anything of the sort. but, again, i was wrong in declaring that "for much of the piece, only certain players seem to be playing any composition, the others just doing whatever". hawkins (very graciously and politely) set me straight here, unpacking the structure of the performance as follows (numbered notes below are verbatim from a.h., only slightly edited by me):

1. ensemble plays 69(I). (a) written material (b) piano, guitar, steel
pans play on written material (c) bass and cello begin to play
unrelated melodic material.

2. As event (b) above continues, event (c) - they chose to enter a
type of arco ballad territory, obviously - turns into 6(O) - the arco
ballad composition.

3. 6(O) is of course one of the pieces which works by setting up a
soundworld, then letting the players move within that. The strings
here continue the arco ballad, coming to rest on that low C pedal
note. Over this, the free improvisation begins.

4. Various motifs in the piano solo abstractly set up 40(O), although
it's not phased in gently; it comes straight in on the top of the
rhythmic pattern, and simply repeats it through to the end of the
piece.

- so, the piece does contain some free improvisation, but this is of course entirely appropriate as well... indeed it's pretty much de rigeur. i take it all back! (it was, indeed, "me rather than them"... well, at least i allowed for that possibility beforehand... and it's just as well i did.)

now, as regards the individual compositions: following my forays into the composition notes, there are a number of observations to be made (and even yet still further confessions of error on my part). firstly, comp. 69i specifies the use of slow arco bass in the later stages of the piece, and hence is a perfect natural "collage partner" for comp. 6(o); far from being a delightful coincidence, this was exactly as hawkins intended. (notes for 69i actually prescribe a tension between the arco bass and the continuing brushed pulse on the drums.)

secondly, 6(o) very specifically does not resolve into a clearly recognisable melody line; the flute melodies to which i alluded (in the comments on the last post) are presumably improvised in the case of the '93 duet (with mario pavone; some thoughts on this album were set down a while ago). no, the piece was composed as a "slow pulse ballade (sic) structure", with a unison line (written in bass clef according to hawkins, who has the actual score; this is not mentioned as such in the composition notes), intended to serve as described by a.h. in note 3 above. sure enough, the '93 version was the only one which i had remembered clearly; when i went back and checked the town hall version, i found no flute, just a sweet-sounding alto and a completely different set of improvised responses to the territory. [it is in the notes to this piece that b. uses the term "quartet music"... he adds that it was not written as such, but was retrospectively included in the 6 series "because of its language generating qualities".]

ok, and finally... comp. 40(o). well, here again i have to hold my hand up about something, namely my suggestion that the pianist had taken "a few liberties with the written line". hawkins was quite clear about this:

no liberties at all, in fact! Of course, the concept of a
'unison' version is awkward here, because it's written in the diamond
clef (I guess rhythmic unison is the most workable conception)...but
the first appearance (in the piano, as you say) is in fact an
absolutely accurate rendering rhythmically (and melodically, if one
were to choose to employ a treble clef).

- so that was me set straight again! all i can say about that is that it did sound a little different from what i'm used to hearing; but then, at least as far as the braxtothon sessions are concerned, i had not yet heard a version with piano... whatever difference that might make. the mention of the diamond clef here came as a big surprise to me, as i had only come across this notational device in the context of ghost trance music and later musics; subsequent perusal of the composition notes revealed that, although there is no specific mention of the diamond clef as such, this is clearly the intention (i.e. only the rhythm track is fully notated, relative intervals being specified rather than fixed pitches). indeed, this is clearly the case not just for 40(o), but also for its kelvin repetition series predecessor comp. 6f (often listed in the early days as "73 kelvin" or something similar, and sometimes still known as such). in any case, again, i have not seen the actual scores and it's possible that they do include the diamond clef, even if this is not mentioned in the notes.

that would seem to be about it... thanks again to the anonymous poster who put me onto the composer, and of course thanks also (and best of luck!) to alex himself. sorry it's taken me so damn long to get this follow-up finished. it's been a tiring few weeks.

* * *

one reason for the recent inactivity, as mentioned in the first para above, was the premature death of another of our dogs. early braxtothon posts made (fairly frequent) mention of what was then our pack of three sighthounds, referring to them only as dog #1, #2 or #3 - this was before my wife became pregnant with our daughter. right at the end of 2008, dog #1 died in very distressing circumstances, and the mentions of the dogs stopped there. within the last couple of weeks, we lost dog #3 in circumstances only slightly less traumatic. only pet-owners (and specifically dog-owners) can understand what this means for a family; no, they are not the same as children, but neither are they simply living possessions/liabilities (as non-owners sometimes seem to assume). intelligent animals in particular become integral parts of a family, and their loss brings about a period of grieving, just as would be the case for a human relative. both of the dogs we have lost will always be considered a part of this family.


* see comments.

(there once was a ) music file here

well, a little one: download

- this is the alexander hawkins sextet, as featured in session on a recent edition of the bbc radio programme jazz on 3. hawkins, based in oxford (also home to the locals, the group co-led by pat thomas and alex ward which plays all-braxton sets... or used to at any rate), has been making quite a name for himself in the u.k. over the last few years, and may also be known to stateside readers through his membership of the convergence quartet, which also includes taylor ho bynum.

i didn't manage to record the show myself, and i'm grateful to a correspondent (who wishes to remain anonymous) for sending me this file. it's a relatively low bitrate mp3, for interest only... no, it's not something you can put on your shelf and polish and stroke lovingly, for those who fetishise their music collections in this way... it is nevertheless perfectly listenable! anyway... since i didn't record the whole thing, but only listened to it once, i can't remember exactly what hawkins said about braxton, but it was something along the lines of his being "the main point of reference for contemporary jazz" (eek - yes, the "j-word" was in fact used, i do remember that much). one or two of the hawkins originals in the ensuing set did seem to betray b's influence; but then, after those words came so close to the end of the interview, it's perhaps not surprising that i heard them that way.

ok, now this is where it starts to get a bit complicated. the piece - which i believe was described as a medley, inaccurately if so - is listed on the programme's webpage as comp. 69(1)+6(o)+40(o). actually the letter "o" was replaced by zeros where it occurs, but we'll ignore that... except we can't, quite, because whoever put the setlist together clearly knows relatively little about the braxton canon*1: numbers instead of letters is easy enough to correct in the case of the 6 and 40 series pieces, but is problematic for the other since of course comp. 69(1) does not exist. the obvious substitution to make is comp. 69i; but in practice it is extremely unlikely to be that, since - according to restructures - that particular piece has never even been recorded by b. himself, only by the splatter trio. they almost certainly had access to b's scores; hawkins would not, i think (in any case he doesn't seem overly familiar with the canon himself - he said in the interview that these pieces were originally written for quartet, "but work ok for this group" or words to that effect; but they weren't written for quartet, they are from the creative ensemble books and hence are suited to any small group).

- in any event, i really don't think the first theme we hear is an unrecorded piece, for the simple reason that i'm pretty sure i recognise it -! the more i hear it, the more familiar it seems... but i'll be damned if i can place it, and so far i have not been able to identify it from cross-checking likely recordings. it is definitely not comp. 69j (which seemed like another reasonable possibility), nor for that matter 69h or 69k or... you get the idea. so, please: if anyone can tell me what piece is being played at the start of this file, i will be very grateful!

as for the rest of it - on first hearing, not quite giving the music my undivided attention (though i thought i was listening fairly closely), i didn't hear the other listed pieces either. 40(o) is of course a repetition series, and one i've heard many times in numerous different versions - but i would have been expecting to hear the whole band play the theme, at least, in unison... and i suppose this is what i was (half-!)listening out for. and 6(o) is a gorgeous ballad structure which i would have expected (again) to recognise at once. but if the piece was described as a medley - in which a succession of different themes are played as one unit - that's erroneous: this performance is really (an attempt at) a collage structure, as pioneered by b's great quartets of the mid-eighties. from around 3.15, while the leader continues playing the first composition (or perhaps just improvises), the cello and bass do indeed begin to bow slowly the written bass parts from comp 6(o)*2, or at least i think that's they are (!); and at 5.08, with this slow arco stateliness still in effect, hawkins embarks on a very fast reading of the 40(o) theme, possibly taking a few liberties with the written line by the sound of things (maybe another reason why i didn't pick it first time round).

this approach - the ensemble starts out playing a piece, then one or more members begin playing something else, and later yet another is joined by someone else again, while the rest of the band continue whatever they were doing - is very much in the spirit of the "forces in motion" group, and some kudos is due to hawkins for even trying it. i'm not sure it's an unmitigated success, bearing in mind that for much of the piece, only certain players seem to be playing any composition, the others just doing whatever - but again, maybe this is me rather than them, and subsequent hearings may yet uncover further subtleties as yet undetected. in any case, it's good to hear someone taking this sort of challenge on, and i hope that hawkins continues to develop this concept in future. in the meantime, i hope people enjoy the music... and once again: if anyone can name that first piece for me, with its highly distinctive, "walking" written line - do please leave a comment!

* see comments.

braxtothon phase 4: session 010 (+) - the details... part 2

(see also part 1; and see here for background etc)

session 010: quartet (dortmund) 1976 (trs. 2-4)
date: 31st october 1976

restructures link

3. - as the applause dies down, the repetition series comp. 40(o) begins. it's a natural way to open the next part of the concert, and lewis seems to exult in these repetition structures - and no wonder, when he himself has such variety in his utterance... and of course, the neat precision with which the band tears through what in theory is a difficult written line - (by now this is routinely) impressive, yet it also hints at the trap into which the leader may now fall, if he's not careful: holland and altschul have basically run out of things to say on this sort of piece, and we could be in danger of getting a rote performance of it. in practice, that's not what happens - but only because b. and lewis spark off each other continually, ignoring the limitations imposed on them. otherwise... there would scarcely be any point in keeping this (or 6f) on the setlist at this point.

as i said before (in the summary), this version is not merely the same picture examined through a series of different filters; it disintegrates completely in the middle, reforming before breaking up again, and this freedom was probably needed for the two hornmen to take the piece anywhere interesting (*1). for all the well-oiled precision of the theme, there's not much in the opening minute to suggest that we're going to get anything special. as the second minute begins, holland drops out of the written line, placing occasional notes instead to provide a different effect (*) as the others plough ahead; then holland and braxton carry the line, lewis furnishing the commentary this time; but all of this mimics what we've heard before in these pieces. as we enter the third minute, the two horns suddenly start hanging back, drawing their attacks out, letting the rhythm section tap out the theme, to which they themselves return only when they wish: this anticipates the greater freedom to come. around 2.45, lewis is sputtering out percussive morse code, b. toying with the germ of an idea, and the bottom end has fallen away completely, to leave us suspended in midair.

as altschul reaches for his (rather uninspired) toy whistle, the two hornmen get down to business: lewis squelching out gaseous bursts, b. (on contrabass sax) grabbing some of that - they return to the theme, drop it again so that 4.00 sees all four players in free space. by 4.15, lewis and the leader are conversing as seagulls, or perhaps sea lions; this then morphs into honks and growls - a whole menagerie of voices supplied by these two, as the bassist drones on; from 5.26, lewis unleashes a glorious few seconds of vocalised blowing, this man's tonal palette so variable, his vocabulary so rich and imaginative! holland (unsurprisingly) returns to the theme first, altschul skittering back in on cymbals, this then coinciding rather beautifully with lewis' high-pitched, honey-sweet offerings (5.45ish). nothing left but to return to the theme in unison; lewis ensures that it remains interesting till the end. yes, the end - they tail off, and once more applause breaks out; this time the break in proceedings seems odd, unnecessary...

4 ... but who knows, perhaps it wasn't intentional. as the written notes die away, they become squeaks and squawks, toots and tweets, and the next piece is upon us already, the audience quickly hushed again. holland, bow in hand, saws out a few simple phrases; little by little, a picture emerges in what is now a familiar fashion.

this, of course, is the wonderful circus march comp. 6c which is gradually being set up before our ears. again, i mentioned briefly in the summary that this is an ideal piece for this particular band - the structure offers great latitude to lewis in particular, while not calling to attention any limitations of the rhythm section - so much so that they played it in successive concerts (unusually) (*2). braxton would go on later to write quite a lot more circus-style music, much of it rather more difficult than this tune; but it’s probably fair to say that none of the later stuff in a similar vein is any more joyful than this. fun and freedom, two qualities which (supposedly) rarely go hand-in-hand in creative music... well, there’s plenty of both written into this piece, which (along with 23j) is one of the obvious highlights of this famous concert.

the set-up is gradual (something which becomes especially noticeable if the piece is heard in isolation from the rest of the album). the two horns open with what could be written patterns, similar to those in the previous number - this being most probably just another example of the “overlapping” of territories which is so common to these situations – and altschul’s rattling snare almost sounds more like the prelude to an execution than the build-up to a high dive... all four players take their time getting ready, eventually easing back completely just before the beginning proper (which is greeted with more warm applause, as well it might be).

the theme, which is cued up by holland’s simple two-note bass phrase to emphasise the march rhythm, is a little more deceptively complex than might appear. haunting and playful at once, a monophonic line drifts downwards in short steps (*3) over three bars, reaching an emphatic halt halfway through the fourth, all the players landing at once and breaking up the march. the line continues with the rhythm still in pause; when the second main section of the line commences, the bass saws out “left (pause) – left (pause) - left-right-left” and this coincides with the monophonic line diverging, a particularly evocative four-note phrase ending in a different place for each horn. this section is then repeated before the march resumes at regular pace, and back round we go. at this point the whistles and parps, together with the bold marching rhythm, place us right in the circus ring. it’s a wonderfully memorable effect: unlike comp.58 (*4), this is a circus march specifically for a small group, so instead of a big brass band theme we have the same sort of idea expressed in miniature; yet b. and lewis between them provide so much atmosphere and variety that the design is brought vividly to life. by the time they leave, the audience may not remember the opening comp. 40f very clearly, but they will surely remember this.

as the piece unwinds and expands, such a simple, magical charm prevails that it’s very easy for the listener just to drift away into it and lose sight of the details altogether. in any case, as the minutes tick by it becomes hard to say how much of what we’re hearing is written out and how much loosely improvised. the basic pattern remains much the same, while the melodies are freely embellished and altered, and this easy freedom really is the key to what’s happening here. above all, the leader and his young sideman are having fun, enjoying themselves while tossing ideas back and forth. the mouthpiece “kisses” which are exchanged around 6.10 are the clearest and most amusing expression of this principle, but it’s alive in every note. and the spirit of exuberant creativity at play here reflects back on the whole performance, making this number almost holographic: around 4.30 we could almost be back in 40f territory, whilst a brief energetic crescendo culminating at 5.15 flings us back towards 23j for just a few seconds, this effect vanishing as quickly as it was summoned, the four players lapsing back effortlessly into the march. around 5.40, lewis sets off a siren which wails away for ten seconds or so; then comes a gorgeous sequence of exchanges between the horns which takes in trills, blarts, parps and actual shouts (from lewis), ending up with those aforementioned kisses: here, more than anywhere else, we are reminded of just how much the two hornmen have in common, and how much, by contrast, b. didn’t have in common with wheeler - on more than occasion the previous year, the leader had proffered similar smacks of the lips, and the trumpeter did not so much rebuff these as not even register them. if comp.6c has waited a long time to get an outing, it’s surely because it’s taken this long for the leader to find a suitable playmate, one truly on the same level.

the intensity increases again, whipping us through the eighth minute and into the ninth, where the pace once more relaxes, everyone winding down again ready for the restatement (which itself is cued up beautifully by a protracted growl from the trombone, starting around 8.25). as that lovely theme plays itself out amid further impromptu utterances from the horns, it seems almost a shame that the concert could not close with this; but in truth it’s not really designed as a closer, and instead it simply fades away...

5 ... to be replaced at once by the theme of comp. 40b. that in itself – starting with the main theme, “cold” like that – is pretty unusual for these concerts, if not unique, and it’s one reason why i always feel a sense of anticlimax about this last piece. the other thing: as i’ve said before, having long since been won over by a version of this piece including piano, i now find it very hard to be convinced by any version without one... single-line instruments simply can’t open up the harmonic structure of the piece to the necessary extent: it always just sounds as if something crucial is missing.

the other other thing, which ultimately is the most significant point (i will get to this in more detail when i run the phase four conclusions article): this is a mid-tempo number, and for some time now holland and altschul have had a horrible tendency to nod off when playing at that speed. (see moers, 1974 and several other instances subsequently.)

so... for all the above reasons, and others which will become clear, this ending number always leaves me feeling let down these days, and has done on every occasion i’ve listened to the album during the last couple of years. that being the case, i don’t really want to dwell on the details too much... but let’s have a look anyway.

it’s a cracking theme, by the way: constructed in tension-and-release segments, it winds its way up and down in two-note skipping rhythm, the same phrasing much used by dolphy in his solos (hopefully many readers will understand straight away what i mean by this), with the release sections more slow-paced; but with just one minute on the clock it’s already impossible to avoid coming back to the same point, because with the theme done and dusted, the first solo is taken by holland... and any accumulated energy is allowed to dissipate at once. it’s as if, having worked the audience quite hard in the first half of the concert, b. now allows them a much easier ride in the second; maybe i’m being unduly harsh there, but from my perspective and at this distance in time, it seems quite urgently the case that what we really needed now was less jazz and more weird stuff, and screw the audience’s expectations... easy for me to say, no doubt. anyway, a fairly relaxed jazz exploration is what we’ve got, and even lewis (who takes over from holland at 3.08 – here, even the first two solos are separated by a brief return to the theme, allowing the crowd to applaud with plenty of warning... sigh, it was the last number i guess) treats this as a fairly standard jazz solo, at least at first. from 4.00 onwards he does start to turn up the heat, with a certain amount of support from altschul (holland just plods away); before he’s done, he’s reminded us all once again of just how fast a trombonist can play and to be fair, the drums do pretty much keep up with him.

at 5.45 ish, with no return to the theme this time, the leader takes over with one of his patent singing phrases, and we are into the second alto solo of the night. and it’s a blinder (as if we would expect anything else by now), a faultless, flowing exhibition of linked ideas which both sings and burns, following its own logic without ever becoming predictable; but as the minutes pass and the solo builds, the backing just sort of dribbles along, the bass in particular very much incidental to what’s actually taking place. oh well, now i find myself wondering whether i really am being too harsh; certainly the audience is appreciative enough, voicing its enthusiasm as b. finally wraps up and hands over to altschul... yes, this being a jazz number, everyone has to take a solo... well, it’s brief and before you know it, we’re back to the theme, and fading out on that memorable four-note phrase from the release. that’s that, and no, it would be very harsh indeed to suggest that anyone left the auditorium thinking “hmmm, that last number was a bit ordinary, i feel all deflated now”; chances are that everyone was buzzing all the way home. all i can tell you is that from my point of view, and that of the braxtothon, something rather important is definitely missing from this last number, and to a lesser extent, from the concert in general. harsh or not, that’s genuinely how i feel about it.

* * *

just in case anyone was wondering, nothing has happened during all these long months (see first comment!) to make me change my mind about the CCC rating for this album. i don’t see it as a career high, and the band is essentially unbalanced at this stage. that’s my story and i’m sticking to it. and, as i said a while ago (that is... i think i said it on here, not just in a mail to someone... can’t find it now!), i would even be hesitant these days about recommending the album as a point of entry to a newcomer, for all its humour and warmth and other human qualities (those same qualities being ones which b’s music is often typically said to lack). why am i hesitant? because this album basically says “free jazz” rather than creative music, and it’s no longer helpful for newcomers to be given that impression. as it is, there are (older) listeners out there who still doggedly insist that b’s “best” music was recorded in the seventies and that it’s all been downhill ever since... these same listeners (who don’t actually deal with the later stuff at all of course, lest it mess up their carefully maintained prejudices) presumably need to think of b. as a “jazz musician” rather than as a composer. old dogs, etc... and they can safely be left asleep; but new listeners need to know that this man was never just a jazz musician, if he was ever one at all.

* see second comment.

* update: see ninth comment, 20th sept.

cent's 2010 manifesto {cough}

(deep inbreath) (pause) ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhmm.., - what a strange year that turned out to be.

as far as this place is concerned... well, just look at the number of recent posts compared to the corresponding months of previous years. that really tells its own story. "promises" have sort of been made, and by no means kept. many of the crucial reasons have already been cited (in those same few etiolated posts). the really obvious one (i.e. parenthood) is at the root and heart of it all, of course. and then there's also...

lemme tell you a story a minute... a guy got back into martial arts training after a longish gap, but having previously trained with masters; found a perfect place to train alone and (mostly) undisturbed, out in the elements in an enchanting/-ed setting, and accordingly got right back into it... it hijacked his attention for some few weeks, meaning that he carried it around in his head on an hourly basis, waking and sleeping; and this manner of being was in fact habitual to him on such occasions, that is to say, when experiencing the (re)discovery of a subject of great interest. such fires tend to burn fairly fast.

anyway... in this state of heightened awareness*1, the way forward seemed pretty simple, but naturally it turned out to be nothing of the sort - at least so far. actually there are encouraging signs of movement at last... but that's behind the scenes, nothing we need to get into here. no, this is about trying to give some sort of explanation as to why my blogductivity flatlined for a while back there. the taiji thing - the point is that the braxtothon was of course born of the same obsessive internal monologuing, would have been very difficult without it in truth; these things, there are many of them, or at least several, and the awful paradox/dilemma for me is that i can only shine the torchbeam in one temple at a time, must inevitably cycle between them*2 yet have not (yet) in any way mastered the art of reporting back regularly and faithfully. so much that is noticed goes untransmitted.

now - that way lies madness, eventually (succeeding divorce and general estrangement, not a good companion for detailed martial arts training and prolonged meditation thereupon... i'm sure we've all seen that movie) so at this point i am striving to wrest under my control this facility/tendency/curse, and be able to turn it on and off in careful moderation. this will in theory allow me to report back better as well. (in due course i will have to start other blogs or do something similar. anyone who's good with this stuff, give me a shout at braxtonhead@gmail.com)

this is the one site which i guarantee to keep going, regardless of what others i might set up in future - the central processor - the thread. this has less to do with (near-) promises i have made, whether to some people in general or to one man in particular, though those are cogent reasons in themselves; it concerns rather the feeling i have often had about this blog representing the hardest i have tried to do my best - at least most of the time (my inability to offer anything of the sort recently is my fundamental reason for not posting) - it's beyond my choosing, it needs continuing.

at this stage there seems little point in actually writing those damn vignettes i was dangling on a stick throughout the autumn and into winter; for what it's worth, there were gonna be three of 'em, to wit:

1. a return to the paul smoker album QB, specifically to one track, pretty sure it's one of phil haynes', which really could well have been one of the first ripples in the younger john zorn's pond of masada, and was interesting too from the pov of the braxtophile (though for largely negative reasons iirc); started this but was already taking too damn long over it (funny how the "short ones" so often turn out to be the most rambling and uncontainable...), never finished it, may write it up for eartrip one day, perhaps...

2. the promised controversial two-parter, beginning innocuously enough with a quickie about the cygnus ensemble's delightful rendering of the first species gtm composition 186 - and using it then as an entry to the matter of audiophilia (or rather of audiophiles, since it must surely be necessary to distinguish the two!) - it's not a high-fidelity recording, as found online*3, hence offered the perfect pretext for examining this important (i still maintain it's important) issue; but no, i'm not now going to write this one at all, at least not for the foreseeable as it inevitably would be taken as a personal attack on at least one person, and a number of you (putative readers) will understand my reluctance to be accused of that at this time.

3. some relatively simple blather about one of the duets with evan parker. the show (boot) was posted online last year and i sat down to write the post on numerous occasions. never got very far (and i still don't really know why. "ought" to have been easy enough). but i may actually go ahead and do this one at some point, mainly 'cos i chose the photo months ago ;-)

- like i say, not much point now in beating myself up about posts i never did, or pretending that they are still at the top of the queue. first business really is that frigging dortmund monkey which still haunts my shoulders and upper back. the rest of it... it'll resume in its own time but i will try to post at least once a month, and try to make it substantial when i do. thanks for listening :)

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c x

the good news, bad news show

argh... just seems to be one damn thing after another at the moment... as will be explained below. first, the good news, which came to me a few weeks ago now, via a mailshot from leo records: this tantalising new release, just in time for the festive season (i think i may be about to treat myself). as far as i know, these two master musicians have not been captured in duet before; indeed, off the top of my head i don't know of any braxton recordings featuring leandre other than the victoriaville 1988 septet performance. good news for sure!

the bad news... well... my computer has been struggling gamely along for a few months now despite obvious virus damage - until recently, when it pretty much packed up on me. that left us with nothing apart from my wife's shagged-out old laptop, which itself is more or less on its last legs and will only support a web browser so primitive that it won't let me use blogger at all. so, if you've been wondering why i went all silent again... that's why. hopefully the desktop will soon be fixed and i can get typing again. the desire is there. meanwhile, here i am in a public library just for a few mins, no time even to pass on my latest musings on the lewis book... not yet. (i can still check email, so feel free to leave comments!)

critical massage 4

anyone who has checked in here recently will probably know that i was hoping to get writing again... and you can see how well that worked out... generally i have little or no free time during the days, and by the evenings i am often unable to summon up the desire to write (or do anything much requiring brainpower). not quite sure when that problem might resolve itself... but one thing i have been doing - and not before time - is reading george lewis' excellent book on the aacm, a power stronger than itself. not surprisingly, any number of fascinating points are raised in this book (i'm about halfway through it at the moment). there's a couple of things i want to single out here.

the first one concerns the whole question of negative attitudes towards free (-spirited) music displayed by the critical fraternity over the years, and specifically in the late '50s and early-mid '60s (by the end of that decade, things apparently had evened out somewhat - though this was something of a false dawn, in that the '70s saw creative musicians pushed ever further into the margins, and to the verge of penury). of course, i knew about leonard feather's blindfold tests - though lewis' book makes it abundantly clear to what extent feather used these to push his own personal prejudices regarding "legitimate" musical approaches - and i knew about john tynan's notorious "anti-jazz" attack on coltrane and dolphy in 1961; but chapter 2 of a power... really goes into all this in disgraceful detail: that is, the (uniformly white, middle-class) critics under scrutiny here emerge in disgrace. their sheer arrogance is breathtaking. clearly, they felt that they understood "jazz" better than the musicians who played it, who created it; more than that, even, they seem to have felt that by setting themselves up as arbiters elegantiae for the music, they owned it in some way, and were therefore entitled to express outrage whenever they felt that some newcomer had "broken the rules". it makes grim reading, particularly so as it's hard to doubt that there was an undeclared racial prejudice at work: lewis tells us (ch. 4, p. 87) that as late as 1966, down beat was giving far more attention to the (white) joe daley trio than to any local black musicians, even going so far as to label them "the city's foremost 'new thing' group" (the new thing itself having been, of course, widely lambasted by these same critics when it was originally introduced... by black musicians). the fact that such blatant cultural favouritism was being indulged (at a time when the south side of chicago was seething with activity) is made still worse by the fact that down beat was itself based in chicago - !

[at least i am far from being the first to comment on this stuff - lewis wasn't either: he points out (ch. 2 again) that ekkehard jost has been scathing of (what we might politely call) the highly conservative views of many american critics during this period; and in fact down beat's own wilful ignorance of what was happening in its own backyard in 1966 had not gone unnoticed even then - the canadian magazine coda had commented on precisely that.]

the actual extent of any racially-motivated elitism in all this is impossible to gauge, as the issue is of course highly complicated. as lewis makes clear, the whole point about the blindfold tests around this time was that feather was able to use them to voice his own reactionary views, without sticking his own head above the parapet: indeed, in getting black musicians to say what he thought, he also pre-empted any possible accusations of racism. and there were black musicians who disapproved of many of the new approaches, as we know, and perhaps the most strident of them - miles davis - was (therefore) called upon more often than most to put the new thing in its place. never afraid to speak his mind (especially if it might offend someone), miles was also known to detest most critics, and to be (shall we say) rather ambivalent towards whites at the best of times; from feather's point of view, who better to have on your side in this sort of argument? almost certainly, lester bowie had davis in mind when he wrote that, from the perspective of the power-brokers, "musicians... must be made to discourage rather than encourage their fellow musicians' needs, desires and right to play. this is accomplished by several means; by far, the most effective means is to take the few (very few) negative cats and make them big STARS." *1 - it would be interesting to know who else besides davis was being alluded to here; lewis himself discreetly avoids speculating on this, but in referring to bowie's screed as "uncommonly prescient", he cleverly points us towards another notorious motormouth, wynton marsalis, who has (as we all know) done more than anyone to attempt to erase the free players from musical history. *2

* * *

just briefly, then, the second point i wanted to mention concerns the rivalry which is supposed to have existed between anthony braxton and roscoe mitchell. in chapter seven - which i am still reading - this is addressed when it comes to examining the events which took chicago's avant-garde to paris. leroy jenkins (who cannot now be asked about it) had it that "the art ensemble was very competitive, always have been" and that b. "was very competitive too, especially with roscoe". on the other hand, lewis tells us in a footnote that b. has it differently: "the so-called rivalry between me and roscoe mitchell is non-existent". this chapter makes very interesting reading, but i'm not going into any of this now... the issue of rivalry, or the lack of it, between the two saxophone masters is one which i will look at when i eventually get to mitchell's duets with anthony braxton in the braxtothon... don't hold your breath, bearing in mind i still haven't actually wrapped up phase four yet, but this landmark recording will kick off phase five.

* see comments.