Sun Ra Sunday

Sun Ra: What’s New (side A) (Saturn 539)

The discographical murkiness continues with this 1975 LP containing four swinging Choreographer’s Workshop recordings from 1962 on the A-side and a contemporaneous concert fragment on side B. Confusingly, later pressings substitute side A of The Invisible Shield for the B-side (see below). In any case, the kind of hot jazz found here probably represents a taste of the Arkestra’s working-gig repertoire during the lean early years in New York. Of course, Ra came out of the big-band tradition of the 1930s and 40s and had vast experience arranging standards and show tunes for various ensembles and his flair for instrumental color (check out Marshall Allen’s flute!) and ornamental counterpoint are much in evidence on the title track -- even if the end result comes across as a mere blowing session. “What’s New” was, after all, a staple of the Arkestra’s live sets throughout their career.

Curiously, two original compositions by Arkestra newcomers Al Evans and Calvin Newborn were also recorded at this Choreographer’s Workshop rehearsal. Newborn’s “Wanderlust” is a rather nondescript jazz waltz but it elicits strong solos by John Gilmore on tenor saxophone, Al Evans on flugelhorn, Danny Davis on alto sax. The composer himself steps out with an aggressively electric guitar solo – a rarely heard timbre in the Arkestra’s recorded history. Ra then builds a solo around distant chordal substitutions before the head returns for the close. Evans brings out the funky side of the Arkestra with his honky-tonk strut aptly entitled “Jukin’.” Evans’s tone is warm and bluesy, while Newborn offers at times some near-psychedelic, noise-infused comping beneath the ever-riffing horns. These two tracks are perhaps a bit lightweight, but still a lot of fun. Evans continued his association with the Arkestra off and on throughout the 70s and 80s while Newborn moved on to moderate success in the blues world.

The Arkestra drops down to a quartet on the hoary old chestnut, “Autumn in New York.” But don’t be fooled! After a lushly romantic opening piano statement, Gilmore plays one of the most breathtakingly heart-rending solos of his long, brilliant career! He starts out by teasing the melancholy melody with spacious, wide-open phrasing, slowly building to register-spanning exclamations, delicate filigrees, and pathos-filled one and two-note worryings. Every note is just exactly the right note at the right place and at the right time. As if awestruck by the sheer beauty of Gilmore’s playing, the band drops out during the second chorus, leaving him to blow an acappella cadenza that miraculously holds the thread of the tune while overflowing with prodigious, risky invention. Suddenly, Ra enters with an (almost) incongruous double-tempo section that slows down just in time for Gilmore to re-state the theme with the kind of stately grace and tender emotion that marked his opening choruses. This track demonstrates that, despite his (well-deserved) reputation as an altissimo-fueled avant-garde noisemaker, John Gilmore was truly one of the great post-bop saxophonists of all time. This version of an over-familiar standard has to be heard to be believed. Incredible!

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Sun Ra & His Intergalactic Research Arkestra: The Invisible Shield (side A) (Saturn 529)

Now things get even more confusing. This LP was originally released in 1974 with six 1962-63 Choreographer’s Workshop recordings on the A-side backed with some stray cuts from the late sixties and early seventies on the B-side. It has also been variously titled A Tonal View of Times Tomorrow, Vol. 2, Janus, and Satellites are Outerspace. As mentioned above, these tracks also appeared as the B-Side on most copies of What’s New (which is really where they belong given their similarly straight-ahead feel). Some (but not all) of these tracks were sold to Black Lion in 1971, but never issued. Finally, in 2000, some (but, bafflingly, not all) of those tracks were officially released on Standards (1201 Music 90192). Like I said: very confusing! It certainly would have been nice if all of these 1962-63 tracks were gathered in one place, but so it goes in Sun Ra’s Omniverse. That said, the Standards CD does boast superior sound quality and includes a rare 1955 home recording of Ra duetting with bassist Wilbur Ware on “Can This Be Love” and is therefore (grudgingly) recommended.

Anyway, “State Street” is a sprightly Ra original that is omitted from Standards on the grounds that it is, well, not a “standard.” Too bad since it’s a barn-burning big band outing with a full-blown brass section consisting of the aforementioned Al Evans on flugelhorn, Ra’s childhood friend Walter Miller on trumpet, and Ali Hassan on trombone. Michael White adds a gypsy element with some keening violin while the virtuoso drumming of Clifford Jarvis drives the Arkestra with an infectious, toe-tapping groove. The saxophones and brass exchange complex, interlocking lines at the head and riff away happily during the string of brief solos, all of which culminates in a brilliant flourish by baritone saxophonist Pat Patrick before the final coda.

“Sometimes I’m Happy,” finds the Arkestra reduced to a quartet of Ra, Gilmore, Boykins, and the more subdued Lex Humphries on drums. This lightly swinging number is the perfect vehicle for another eloquent statement by Gilmore, punctuated by Ra’s roiling piano and Boykins’s rock-solid bass. Jarvis and Miller then return for the remaining tracks. Two takes of “Time After Time” exist, but take one is inexplicably omitted on Standards. This familiar tune is taken at a briskly bebop-ish pace and showcases Miller’s immaculate technique and burnished tone atop Jarvis’s smooth yet hard-driving drums. On take two, Miller takes more chances, splitting tones into multi-phonics and allowing for more open, silent spaces between his phrases. “Easy to Love” is another hard bop vehicle for Gilmore with Jarvis’s hyperactive bass drum and overlapping polyrhythms relentlessly propelling the music forward. Boykins interjects with some sure-footed walking bass between Gilmore’s increasingly abstracted choruses until, finally, Ra enters with the trumpet to (somewhat raggedly) repeat the theme and end.

“Keep Your Sunny Side Up” is another uptempo number with Jarvis and Boykins swinging like mad and Gilmore once again demonstrating his prowess as a post-bop genius. Yes, it’s another brilliant Gilmore solo! But Miller reveals in one brief chorus what a formidable trumpet player he really was and how sympathetic he was to Sun Ra’s vision – especially as it applied to the living tradition and the so-called mainstream. While economic realities prevented Miller from committing full time to the Arkestra, he remained an always welcome visitor throughout their existence. Unfortunately, Ra’s brass sections would remain in flux during these early New York years.

Along with What’s New, this material reveals a part of the Arkestra’s history that was long concealed by the vagaries of the Saturn enterprise (not to mention a genuine desire to promote Ra’s original music over “standards”). Beyond the stellar musicianship on display, these tracks showcase Ra’s bountiful gifts as an arranger and his Herculean work ethic. While the times were penurious, Ra continued to compose, rehearse and record the Arkestra, and found paying work where he could. Arranging and playing standards was (and still is) the lingua franca of jazz and Sun Ra was a master. But he could also write a tune like “State Street” that sounded as if it had been composed during the golden age of the big bands. This music may not be as exhilaratingly modern and original as, say, Secrets of the Sun or Cosmic Tones for Mental Therapy, but it is ebullient and supremely well-crafted.

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Special thanks once again to Sam Byrd for his help with this post!

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Photograph of the Arkestra in rehearsal at the Choreographer’s Workshop by Tommy Hunter (from Szwed). Left to right: Pat Patrick, Sun Ra, Marshall Allen, John Gilmore, and Ronnie Boykins.

John Cage on "I've Got a Secret" 1960

Here is a wonderful clip of John Cage performing “Water Walk” in January 1960 on the popular CBS television show, “I’ve Got a Secret.”

Cage is utterly charming and witty:

Host: Will you tell us quite seriously whether or not you consider what we’re about to hear music? No tongue in cheek, but seriously.

Cage: No, perfectly seriously, I consider music the production of sounds and since in the piece which you will hear I produce sounds, I’d call it music.

[...]

Host: Mr. Cage, these are nice people, but some of them are going to laugh. Is that
alright?

Cage: Of course. I consider laughter preferable to tears.

Via WFMU.

Sun Ra Sunday

The Earthly Recordings of Sun Ra (2nd edition)
By Robert L. Campbell & Christopher Trent
Cadence Jazz Books (ISBN: 1-881993-35-3)

This is an example of “amateur” scholarship in the best sense of the word. In an attempt to get a handle on Ra’s vast (and vastly confusing) discography, Clemson psychology professor (and Sun Ra fan) Robert L. Campbell began compiling a list of all known recordings, building upon the work of Hartmut Geerken and Dr. Tilman Stahl in the 1980s. In 1992, Prof. Campbell shared his findings with the Saturn internet list-serv and the small but resourceful cyber-community of Sun Ra fans contributed a wealth of new information. Sun Ra was notoriously vague about dates and personnel and many Saturn LPs were issued in blank or hand-scrawled sleeves containing zero information – not even a title! Therefore, intensive forensic analysis was required to even attempt to ascertain essential discographical details. The end result of this communitarian effort was the publication of the first edition of The Earthly Recordings of Sun Ra in 1994. Subsequently, further new discoveries were made and, with the help of co-author and fellow Ra-fanatic, Christopher Trent, this second, massively enlarged edition was published by Cadence Jazz Books in 2000.

Campbell and Trent strive to document not only all of Sun Ra’s officially released recordings, both as a sideman and a leader, but also all known live performances, unissued recordings, and rumored sessions. They also attempt to trace the Ra’s footsteps around the globe where recordings are unknown. Posthumous performances by the Marshall Allen-led Arkestra up through 1998 are also included. Did I mention the discography is massive? The first edition included 501 items across 218 pages while the second edition lists 788 items and totals 847 pages, including several handily cross-referenced indexes. The 6” x 8” paperbound book weighs in at over three pounds!

It is a shame, however, that such a thick, heavy tome is so poorly bound. The signatures have been brutally chopped off and the three-inch-thick text block is merely glued to a flimsy cardboard cover. With any prolonged use, the spine will surely fail and pages will begin to fall out. A somewhat expensive purchase, I would have preferred that this monumental reference work had been more sturdily constructed. Alas, The Earthly Recordings is a labor of love for a vanishingly small, specialized audience and no doubt a library bound edition would cost upwards of $100.00. Nevertheless, The Earthly Recordings is an essential resource for the serious Sun Ra fan. Now almost a decade out of date, perhaps a hardbound, thousand-page third edition will be forthcoming.

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Another fabulous resource (that I forgot I even had) is Sun Ra Scores: The Library of Congress Endowment, another amazing bit of scholarship compiled by ethnomusicologist James Wolf. From the years 1956 to 1973, Ra deposited a couple hundred pages of sheet music to the Library of Congress for copyright purposes and Wolf managed to retrieve and photocopy the collection during the mid-1990s. Subsequently, the collection was made available to members of the Saturn internet community for a nominal copying fee. Predictably, most of the “scores” contain only the barest information: a melody, lyrics, and perhaps some chord symbols. However, as I was flipping through them today, I was surprised to find meticulously detailed scores for “And Otherness” and “Moon Dance,” two seemingly loosely structured pieces from Cosmic Tones for Mental Therapy. These appear to be not mere transcriptions, but fully realized compositions with additional elements not found on the record. Fascinating!

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With these tools at hand, we will continue the examination of the Choreographer’s Workshop recordings next week (I hope).

More Like This, Please

Bernie Madoff's new home.

Sun Ra Sunday

My work life is seriously impinging on my home life these days, so my examination of the Choreographer’s Workshop recordings will have to be put off this week. In the meantime, here’s some cool silent footage (with dubbed music) of Sun Ra and the Arkestra in Egypt and Italy circa. 1971:

Sun Ra Sunday

Sun Ra & His Arkestra Featuring Pat Patrick: “A Blue One” / “Orbitration in Blue” (Saturn SRA-999)

Recorded at the Choreographer’s Workshop, New York City, early-1962.
Originally released late-1964.

This super-obscure seven-inch 45-RPM single was discovered too late to appear on Evidence’s The Singles (ECD 22164) (1996) and that’s too bad because it’s a stunner and it remains sadly out of print. Note that Arkestra stalwart, Pat Patrick receives a rare co-billing on the disc’s label; well, his spectacular baritone saxophone playing on these two Choreographer’s Workshop tracks suitably justifies the honorific.

Laurdine “Pat” Patrick was born November 23, 1929 in East Moline, Illinois and was the first of several graduates of Captain Walter Dyett’s DuSable High School who would fall in with Sun Ra in Chicago after around 1950. (For more information on Captain Dyett, see Szwed, pp.87-89, 94 and George E. Lews, A Power Stronger Than Itself: The AACM and American Experimental Music (Chicago, 2008).) Ra biographer John Szwed aptly sums up the importance Ra’s early association with the youthful Pat Patrick:

Pat Patrick [was] a baritone saxophonist of enormous resources, a prodigy; a
humorous but highly organized person, whose playing reflected both qualities: “He’d be playing and suddenly this note would come from nowhere, and sound wrong,” said bassoonist James Jacson, who played with Sonny many years later; “but as he went on you’d see how it was deceptive…it fit perfectly.” […] Patrick was something special, a musician of the right spirit, intelligent, honest, serious. He saw to it that Sonny was protected, and was quick to help any other members of the band in trouble. Patrick was the best musician Sonny ever had in any of his bands. He got the point of ideas and music immediately (“You got it down, Pat,” Sonny always said). He had great hopes for him, and felt that with Pat he had the basis for a band capable of executing the music he had been working on for over ten years (pp. 87-88).

Patrick was a charter member of Sun Ra’s Space Trio, the Arkestra’s precursor, and a 1951 home recording entitled, “Treasure Hunt,” documents Patrick’s already full-bodied sound and smooth, thoughtful invention. Patrick would remain committed to Sun Ra until the end of his life in 1991, but he also worked with such luminaries as Duke Ellington, John Coltrane, Thelonious Monk, and Mongo Santamaria, with whom he co-wrote the 1963 hit, “Yeh Yeh.”

The A-side of this little gem, “A Blue One,” is a rollicking mid-tempo Ra blues, with a simple pssh-tap-bang rhythm and stolid walking bass that sets up a subtly killing groove. Ra takes a brief turn on the piano before Patrick enters with a burbling bari-sax solo that ranges freely from the resonant growls of the lowest registers to high-register wails and cries, with astonishingly fleet passagework full of widely spaced intervals and intricate legato runs. Boykins takes the lead with some funky, stop-start bass before fading out. This should have been a hit! The B-side, “Orbitration in Blue,” is a bluesy, drummer-less ballad featuring another wild excursion on bari-sax. Incongruously opening with some honking low notes, Patrick’s playing is simultaneously suave and smooth and rough and edgy. At about 1:44, he blasts out one of those seemingly “wrong” notes that Jacson mentions, full of buzzing squeaks and harmonics that somehow manages to resolve itself beautifully as the piano and bass navigate the lush chord changes. Patrick concludes his solo with a flourish and the track quickly fades out. Far out!

Pat Patrick once said, “Sun Ra was another kind of being. He was educational, he helped you to grow and develop. He was a black self-help organization run on a shoe-string…If he could’ve had the resources, the planet would be a better place. That’s all he’s done: tried to make life better” (quoted in Szwed, p. 89). This single is brimming with high-spirited and uplifting swing and inspired improvisation. Listening to it does make the planet a better place -- for a few minutes anyway.

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Pat Patrick is also the father of Massachusetts’ Governor, Deval Patrick. The Governor discusses the complicated relationship with his largely absent father in this Boston Globe article from March, 2007:



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Big thanks again to Sam Byrd for his assistance with this post!

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Photo of Pat Patrick, 1958, from The Cry of Jazz. (See From Sonny Blount to Sun Ra: The Chicago Years.)

Hillbilly Comics (Charlton, 1955)

As a quasi-Yankee who deliberately migrated south of the Mason-Dixon Line, I am sensitive to the stereotype of Southerners that still persists – perhaps deservedly.

Be that as it may, this particular wordless strip by Art Gates scanned and posted at Again With the Comics is brilliant. As a commenter remarked, “Hank the Hermit” is really a Taoist.

Via Boing Boing.

Sun Ra Sunday

Sun Ra & His Arkestra: Out There a Minute (Restless/Blast First CD 71427)

Back in the early 1980s, when I was coming of age, hanging out with other weirdo musicians at the New England Conservatory, and discovering Sun Ra’s music for the first time, Ra’s records were extremely difficult, if not impossible, to find even in a big city like Boston. I managed to snag a couple of Saturn LPs while working at Strawberry’s Records circa. 1984 but they were totally unlabeled, extremely poor pressings, and contained a mish-mash of material recorded at various times and places. Or at least that’s how I remember them since I have no idea what the titles were; sadly, I later sold them in a fit of self-induced poverty and poor judgment. As the CD era dawned, contemporaneous recordings were issued on foreign labels like Black Saint (Italy), DIW (Japan), and Leo (France) while crummy-sounding bootlegs of the classic ESP recordings were also floating around the underground record shops. But for the most part Sun Ra’s vast body of work was shrouded in mystery. When the U.S. major label A&M released the crisply produced Blue Delight in 1988, Ra was suddenly something of a commodity and a steady stream of archival material began to flow in the 1990s.

In today’s instantaneous-information and media-saturated age, it might be difficult to imagine what a revelation it was when Out There a Minute appeared in 1989. Billed as “Sun Ra’s personal selection of rare Arkestra recordings from the late 1960s,” this CD allowed a glimpse into the darkest recesses of Ra’s most obscure period. But in typical Saturnal fashion, the packaging was devoid of liner notes beyond some cryptic Ra poetry leaving any definitive information as to dates and personnel merely inferred or totally unknown. That is until the efforts of Prof. Robert L. Campbell to compile a definitive Sun Ra discography began to circulate on the nascent internet. Thanks to Prof. Campbell (and the small but avid cyber-community of Ra fanatics), one could in the coming years finally piece together the murky history of Sun Ra’s Arkestra and gain an understanding of the material that appears on Out There a Minute. The Earthly Recordings of Sun Ra was subsequently published by Cadence Jazz Books in 1994 and a greatly enlarged second edition (which I still need to purchase) was published in 2000.

So, it turns out that Out There a Minute contains several tracks that were later issued on CD in their proper album context on Art Forms of Dimensions Tomorrow, When Angels Speak of Love (Evidence ECD 22216), and Night of the Purple Moon (Atavistic ALP 264) along with two tracks from the still-out-of-print Continuation LP from 1968. I will not consider any of these tracks here except to say that Atavistic needs to reissue Continuation pronto. The remainder of the CD consists of never released recordings, some of which derive from the Choreographer’s Workshop era and therefore fits chronologically into our discussion of these crucial early/mid-sixties sessions.

“Somewhere in Space,” “Dark Clouds with Silver Linings,” and “Journey Outward” were all recorded in 1962 and demonstrate Ra’s evolution from the more swing-based traditionalism of the Chicago era to the experimental, avant-garde music that first appeared on Art Forms of Dimensions Tomorrow and was perfected on Secrets of the Sun. “Somewhere in Space” is a lumbering two-chord march featuring Art Jenkins on “space voice,” actually wordless, improvisatory singing through an inverted ram’s horn (see Szwed pp.192-193 for the whole story). After a while, the horns enter with a simple, but affecting batch of riffs before each picking up small percussion instruments in support of a string of rather meandering solos: Pat Patrick on baritone saxophone, John Gilmore on tenor, Marshall Allen on flute. “Dark Clouds With Silver Linings” is a more conventional Ra original with a mid-tempo blues structure but with some typically unexpected harmonic twists. Gilmore states the melody and his tenor solos glide effortlessly through the weirdly bop-ish changes. Meanwhile, Ra explores some interesting two-handed counterpoint along with his stabbed comping. The ensemble sounds a little unsure of itself when it enters with the restatement of the theme, which yields some mild inadvertent dissonance before the close. “Journey Outwards” appears to be another early example of the conducted improvisations that would characterize this period’s most important work. It opens with Gilmore on mellifluous bass clarinet over softly mumbling drums. Then Gilmore drops out as the percussion builds into a polyrhythmic African groove. Al Evans enters with some mellow, richly melodic flugelhorn statements and Ra joins in with some angular piano figures before fading out. Very nice.

The title track, “Out There a Minute,” remains somewhat of a discographical mystery. According to Prof. Campbell, it could have been recorded at any time between 1962 and 1964, but to my ears it sounds very similar to the hissy, distant quality and subtly swinging combo feel of 1961’s Bad & Beautiful. In any event, it’s another patented off-kilter blues with some slippery piano work from Ra and a spirited Patrick solo on baritone saxophone. “Other Worlds” jumps ahead to the Magic City (Evidence ECD 22069) sessions of spring 1965, with a larger Arkestra and more aggressively avant-garde approach, but probably not recorded at the Choreographer’s Workshop (for one thing, it’s in stereo). Ra plays a quietly intense introduction on simultaneous piano and bell-like celeste before the Arkestra bursts in with a hard-driving atonal workout. Throughout the piece, Ra’s piano attack is every bit as ferocious as Cecil Taylor’s and the entire 11-piece Arkestra blows hot and heavy, tossing lines around with seemingly wild abandon. But repeated listens reveal a tightly controlled compositional integrity that packs the whollop of John Coltrane’s “Ascension” into a mere four minutes and forty-eight seconds. Incredible stuff. “Jazz and Romantic Sounds” probably dates from about 1969 given Ra’s electronic organ. Also, Gilmore is notably absent, but Marshall Allen and Danny Davis duke it out on alto saxophones while Ra conjures up the “space-age barbeque music” vibe similar to My Brother the Wind Vol. 2.

These never-before-released tracks make Out There a Minute a must-have proposition for the hardcore Sun Ra fan while the whole disc is full of prime cuts and a suitable introduction for the novice. Sadly, the CD is now out print although its widespread distribution means it’s readily available in the secondary market and well worth the effort to track it down. Essential.

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Big thank you to Sam Byrd for helping me sort this stuff out!

Snail's Pace

Here's some more time-lapse photography. This time, it's French snails.

He writes: Every evening, after my automatic water system stops, all the snails who where hidden behind flowers go out and go on the grass to make parties, eating and drinking !

It really does give a new perspective!


Snails Go west ! Funny TimeLapse from http://vimeo.com/timelapsefr on Vimeo.

Via Boing Boing.

Sun Ra Sunday

Sun Ra & His Myth Science Arkestra: Art Forms of Dimensions Tomorrow (Evidence ECD 22036) (1992)

Recorded at the Choreographer’s Workshop, NYC, 1961-1962.
Originally released as Saturn 9956 (1965).

Art Forms of Dimensions Tomorrow tacks on two leftover tracks from 1961’s Bad & Beautiful recording session but mostly consists of a 1962 rehearsal recorded in the basement of the Choreographer’s Workshop where there was a good piano and better acoustics. The sound quality is notably improved even if the source tape for this CD is significantly degraded. More importantly, Ra’s music is clearly moving in a new, exciting direction. Drummer/recordist Tommy Hunter had been recording rehearsals on his Apex reel-to-reel and accidentally discovered the feedback/echo effect that appears here for the first time. So while Bad & Beautiful was a somewhat traditional jazz combo album full of show tunes and semi-conventional Ra originals, Art Forms of Dimensions Tomorrow lives up to its title, moving forward into the kind of experimental avant garde music that would cement Ra’s reputation in the 1960s and 70s while also retaining a connection to the living tradition that would continue to center the Arkestra’s aesthetic throughout its career. To paraphrase Michael Shore’s comment in the liner notes to this Evidence CD, if Cosmic Tones for Mental Therapy is a Rosetta Stone, then Art Forms of Dimensions Tomorrow is Ra beginning to carve it in earnest.

“Cluster of Galaxies” is a brief but portentous opening with its spacey “thunder drums,” “sun harp,” and “spiral percussion gong” all drenched in thick cosmic echo and reverb. Afro-psychedelia starts right here – in 1962! P-Funk mastermind George Clinton once remarked, “[Sun Ra] was definitely out to lunch – the same place I eat at!” (quoted in Szwed, p. 264). Shifting gears, the next track is another remake of “Ankh” which originally appeared in a more florid arrangement in 1956 on the Delmark LP, Sound of Joy and more recently on Bad & Beautiful. This composition was obviously important to Ra and the various renditions are fascinatingly diverse. Here, baritone saxophonist Pat Patrick shares solo space with a rare appearance by Ali Hassan on trombone. The mood is brighter, less ominous than usual with some funky gospel handclaps supporting the lumbering riffs. “Solar Drums” is another brief space-out featuring echoing drums, small percussion, bells and faintly tinkling piano. The hissing feed back ebbs and flows across the sonic landscape, sometimes threatening to overwhelm everything until Tommy Hunter suddenly turns a knob, bringing things back into focus.

The next two tracks appear to be Ra’s earliest experiments with a new kind of form: loosely structured, non-idiomatic, conducted improvisation. This is a form that Ra would expand and perfect as the decade proceeded, resulting in such masterpieces as Other Planes of There and The Magic City (Evidence ECD 22069). With its total absence of drums, atonal piano, and knotty contrapuntal horn lines, “The Outer Heavens” sounds more like contemporary classical chamber music than big band jazz and points the way to the later music of the AACM and Anthony Braxton. In contrast, a barrage of ceremonial drums and percussion dominates “Infinity of the Universe” with Ra agitatedly rumbling around in the piano’s lowest registers. Michael Shore points out in the liner notes that: “his repeated bass-clef piano runs mark the first appearance of what would, in a few years, turn into the launch pad for one of his greatest pieces, ‘The Shadow World.’” I think that’s correct and a fascinating insight into Ra’s working methods. Towards the end, the horns enter with fleeting and plaintive cries over the increasingly pounding percussion before the track quickly fades to silence.

The album closes with the two orphaned tracks from the Bad & Beautiful sessions and a return to its cool, swinging combo mode. “Lights on a Satellite” was originally recorded in Chicago in 1960 but unreleased until 1965 on Fate in a Pleasant Mood (Evidence ECD 22068). The version here eschews the ornamental flute obbligato and becomes a soulful ballad vehicle for Ra’s Monkish piano. Unfortunately, the track fades out prematurely just as Gilmore begins to blow. “Kosmos in Blue” is a typical Ra blues, bouncy and maybe a little old fashioned rhythmically, but full of dissonant voicings and an unpredictable, disjointed harmonic structure. Gilmore’s tenor saxophone solo stands out for its stately reserve and concise eloquence.

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As we proceed to move chronologically through the Choreographer’s Workshop recordings, next up would be Secrets of the Sun , the first really mature work of the period. But from there to Cosmic Tones, the discography get a little murky – Sam, I think I’ll need your help sorting these out! Please drop me a line!

Robert Pollard: The Crawling Distance

Robert Pollard: The Crawling Distance (GBV, Inc. 4) (LP/CD) (2009)

Robert Pollard gets criticized for making “too many records” and, indeed, it is difficult (and expensive!) to keep up with every single release by all the various bands, solo projects, and pseudonyms. By my count, he averages 6-9 records (albums, EPs, singles, and sometimes big box sets) per year, every year and even the hippest indie-record store (e.g. Grimey’s) will not stock everything, leaving direct mail order from Rockathon the only realistic option. So, for the casual listener, the sheer volume of releases (not to mention the wide range of sound quality and focus) has to be repellently intimidating. I mean, who is this guy to think that every scrap of tape is worthy of release?

The truth is that Pollard’s genius really is so absurdly profligate that even the most tossed off, drunken boombox recording almost always contains some fleeting glimpse of potential pop perfection: a turn of phrase, a monster riff or tasty chord sequence, a quirky but catchy form, or a brilliant vocal performance. And for the hardcore fan, this prodigious, unrestrained output allows intimate access to Pollard’s creative process. Over time, one gets the sense that no song is finished; no matter how perfect (or very imperfect) it might sound, it is in ever always in the process of becoming. This is evident in Pollard’s current practice of going back to old songs that previously appeared in embryonic form on obscure singles or the catch-all Suitcase box sets. On The Crawling Distance, Pollard revisits “It’s Easy” (from 1984)(!) and turns what was once a mere forty-four second sketch into one of his most fully realized and ravishingly beautiful ballads ever. Truly, this song alone is worth the price of the album.

Nevertheless, at first listen, The Crawling Distance didn’t strike me as imminently likeable as last year’s Off to Business. There’s a proggy weirdness to some songs (“Cave Zone” “By Silence Destroyed” “On Shortwave”) that would have fit right in on the last couple Circus Devils albums. That’s not a bad thing necessarily, but it was only after a few spins that I noticed that even these songs contain bits of the hooky, angelic pop that is quintessential Bob. What sounds immediately off-putting grows into a catchy earworm. Elsewhere, it’s all creamy ballads: like the aforementioned “It’s Easy,” “No Island,” and “Imaginary Queen Anne” rank among Pollard’s most gorgeous, heartfelt songs. “Red Cross Vegas Night” alternates between soft and sad and loud and anthemic to powerful effect. And, of course, the single, “The Butler Stands for All of Us” is classic mature Pollard: sophisticated, melodic pop rock with allusive, yet emotionally resonant lyrics. Given time and attention, The Crawling Distance reveals itself to be another complex but richly rewarding album from the Pollard-Tobias team and is highly recommended for even the merely curious.

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Next up: Boston Spaceships: The Planets Are Blasted (GBV, Inc. 5) due February 27.
Free and legal MP3s of some of Pollard’s recent songs are available here.

Unofficial TV Ad for Trader Joe's

This is excellent!





Via Boing Boing.

Sun Ra Sunday

Mr. Sun Ra & His Arkestra: Bad and Beautiful (Evidence ECD 22038)

Recorded at the Choreographer’s Workshop, NYC Nov.-Dec. 1961
Originally released as Saturn 532 (1972)

By 1961, Mr. Sun Ra and a diminished Arkestra had inadvertently relocated from Chicago to New York City and, although gig opportunities were slim, Tommy Hunter had rejoined the band on percussion. Hunter subsequently purchased an Ampex 601 reel-to-reel tape recorder at a pawn shop in order to record the Arkestra’s frequent rehearsals. Hunter was also fortuitously employed, first at Columbus Rehearsal Studio on 8th Avenue between 57th and 58th Streets and later at the Choreographer’s Workshop at 414 West 51st Street. Thanks to Hunter, the Arkestra was able to rehearse and record rent-free on nights and weekends for the next three years (see Szwed, pp.186-187). Ra had frequently recorded rehearsals back in Chicago, but 1961 would mark the beginning of a particularly fruitful period.

Bad and Beautiful is the very first of a long series of wonderful Saturn records made at the Choreographer’s Workshop in the 1960s. This particular session was recorded in a room on the third or fourth floor where the acoustics and the piano were “not to Ra’s liking” (Campbell, 1st ed., p. 24). Sonny apparently preferred the basement where there was a good piano and better acoustics (Szwed, p.187). Indeed there is a noticeably hissy and tinny quality to the sound. But there is also that pleasantly reverberant atmosphere that characterizes all of the Choreographer’s Workshop records: They have that Saturn Sound. Along with Ra and Hunter, the sextet includes Marshall Allen on alto sax and flute, John Gilmore on tenor sax, Pat Patrick on baritone sax, Ronnie Boykins on bass. They sound supremely relaxed, languidly exploring hoary standards and show tunes along with some rather conventional Ra originals. Gilmore is in his usual fine form throughout but his oh-so-smooth solo on “Search Light Blues” is truly deep and soulful. Pat Patrick plays the unwieldy baritone saxophone with astounding grace on the riff-based “Ankh” and on the gently swinging “On the Blue Side.” But then “Exotic Two” points to the future with each Arkestra member banging away on percussion instruments in dense poly-rhythms while Ra punches out stiff chord sequences on the piano. (Small percussion instruments can be heard chattering away on “Search Light Blues” as well.) The album closes with a languorous ensemble arrangement of “And This Is My Beloved.” In all, Bad and Beautiful is a transitional, historically important album and its subdued atmosphere and sophisticated musicianship also makes for a simply pleasant Sun Ra Sunday.

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Evidence ECD 22038 also contains We Travel the Spaceways (Saturn 409), recorded at various places in Chicago during the late-1950s; it will be considered separately.

Anthony Braxton Interview

Here's a fascinating interview with the man himself, Anthony Braxton:

Sun Ra Sunday

Sun Ra & His Myth Science Arkestra: Cosmic Tones For Mental Therapy (Evidence ECD 2036)

Recorded at The Choreographer’s Workshop, NYC, late 1963
Originally released as Saturn 408 (1967) and Thoth Intergalactic KH 2272 (1969)

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Of all the outlandish and evocative titles in Sun Ra’s discography, Cosmic Tones For Mental Therapy stands out in its audacious, baldly prescriptive claim. But, to be sure, the title is no idle put-on. In fact, Ra had presciently been involved in what would nowadays be known as "music therapy” back in the late-1950s:

[Manager] Alton Abraham arranged through his medical contacts for Sonny to play for a group of patients at a Chicago mental hospital…The group of patients assembled for this early experiment in musical therapy included catatonics and severe schizophrenics, but Sonny approached the job like any other, making no concessions in his music. While he was playing, a woman who it was said had not moved or spoken for years got up from the floor, walked directly to his piano, and cried out, ‘Do you call that music?’ Sonny was delighted with her response and told the story for years afterwards as evidence of the healing powers of music (Szwed, p.92-93).

While the term “music therapy” may conjure up some kind of dulcet, inoffensive, New-Age-y pabulum, the Cosmic Tones marshaled here are anything but easy-listening. Ra practices a kind of electro-shock treatment to the soul, seeking to, as with the catatonic mental patient, “touch the unknown part of the person, awaken the part of them that we’re not able to talk to, the spirit” (Szwed, p. 257). Ra did not consider the Arkestra to be musicians so much as “tone scientists” (Szwed, p. 112) whose investigations and manipulations of musical phenomena could help mankind in its earthly struggles. “People are disturbed and need your help 24 hours a day,” he would lecture the band (quoted in Szwed, p. 374).

People are just like receivers, they’re like speakers, too, like amplifiers. They’re also like instruments because they got a heart that beats and that’s a drum. They’ve got eardrums too, and they some strings in there, so they actually got harps on each side of their head. If you play certain harmonies, these strings will vibrate in people’s ears and touch different nerves in the body. When the proper things are played in each person, these strings will automatically tune themselves properly and then the person will be in tune. There will be no discord, they will be tuned up perfectly, just like each automobile have to be tuned according to what kind of automobile it is. My music does have a vibration somewhere within it that can reach every person in the audience through feeling (quoted in Szwed, p. 345).

Electro-shock treatment is also an appropriate metaphor in that electronic technology was always an important tool in Ra’s medic bag. On Cosmic Tones For Mental Therapy, Ra eschews the piano altogether for the mewling whine of the Clavioline (an early keyboard synthesizer) and the swirly Hammond organ. Further, electronic echo is slathered onto the proceedings by recordist/percussionist Tommy “Bugs” Hunter, who had accidentally discovered the effect while fooling around with the Ampex 602 tape recorder he had purchased at a pawn shop in 1962. By plugging in a cable from the output jack into the input on the machine, massive reverberant echo was produced.

I wasn’t sure what Sun Ra would think of it…I thought he might be mad – but he loved it. It blew his mind! By working the volume of the output on the playback, I could control the effect, make it fast or slow, drop it out, or whatever (quoted in Szwed, p. 187).

Astonishingly, all of this proto-psychedelia was created years before Timothy Leary and the hippies discovered LSD and invented “acid rock.” While Ra sought the kind of change in consciousness that psychedelics promised (and, later, he certainly profited to some extent from the hippies’ taste for spacey freakouts), he abjured drugs and forbade his musicians from indulging themselves. And no matter how outrageous his music might sound, it was never merely a free-form “freakout.” No, the members of the Arkestra were sober, disciplined scientists conducting advanced research and revealing their findings.

Much of the music on Cosmic Tones appears to be in the form of brief conducted improvisations (a form that would later be refined and expanded on Other Planes of There (1964) (Evidence ECD 22037, 1992) and The Magic City (1965) (Evidence ECD 22069, 1993). Unusual instrumentation (and a conspicuous absence of brass instruments) predominates: besides Ra’s electronic keyboards, Marshall Allen concentrates on oboe and flute while John Gilmore plays bass clarinet and percussion exclusively. Known for his prowess as a tenor saxophonist, Gilmore’s brilliant solo on the quasi-rhumba, “Adventure Equation” demonstrates his remarkable virtuosity and inventiveness on the notoriously recalcitrant bass clarinet. Interestingly, the Arkestra rarely plays all at once, giving the music a contemporary-classical, chamber music quality, albeit with that “Saturn Sound” that is so unique to Sun Ra.

“And Otherness” opens the album with middle-eastern-sounding oboe and clip-clopping log drums before throbbing, low-register “space chords” assert themselves amongst the horns and Clavioline. Pat Patrick enters with herky-jerky blasts on the baritone saxophone before gently flowing, antiphonal horn lines bring the piece to an open-ended close. “Thither and Yon” again features some snaky oboe, this time with echoey minimalist percussion tapping, scribbled flute ornamentation, and Ronnie Boykins’s forceful pizzicato and delightfully singing arco bass. “Moon Dance” stands out as an almost funky strut with its repetitive bass riff, lackadaisically propulsive drums and small percussion, and Ra’s occasionally soaring, soulful organ. “Voice of Space” is a kind of an improvised concerto for Ronnie Boykins’s bowed bass, accompanied by stabbing organ chords, clattering percussion, and thick, heaving echo. Danny Davis shines on alto saxophone, weaving wiggly filigrees in the background or more aggressively battling the hissing reverb feedback that always threatens to overwhelm. At one point, Boykins’s bass tremolos merge imperceptibly with Ra’s rumbling organ which then duets with Gilmore’s woody bass clarinet – a moment of group mind at its most sublime.

So does Cosmic Tones For Mental Therapy live up to its restorative claims? The usual disclaimers apply: any medication can affect people in different ways and the potential side effects are unpredictable. You may experience dizziness and disorientation, but this is normal. Thankfully, overdosage is rarely fatal. In any case, if you find yourself suffering from psychic imbalances, this can be an effective cure.

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This CD also contains Art Forms Of Dimensions Tomorrow, recorded in 1962 and tenuously connected to Cosmic Tones in venue and in the prevalence of Tommy Hunter’s echo machine. Otherwise, it is its own thing and worthy of close examination. But that will have to wait for another day.

Time-Lapse of 9-Month Old At Play

I don't even have kids, but I thought this was fascinating and very, very funny.



Via Boing Boing.

Sun Ra Sunday

Sun Ra: Cosmos (Spalax 14561) (1999)

Recorded at Studio Hautefeuille, Paris, France, August 1976
Originally released as Cobra (France) COB 37001 (1976)

According to Robert L. Campbell’s discography (1st ed.), this LP was also issued on Musicdistribution 60005 and Inner City IC 1020 shortly after the original Cobra release. It was first re-issued on compact disc by the French Buda label (82479) but the original CD apparently suffers from a boomingly bass-heavy mix. This 1999 issue on Spalax purports to correct that deficiency - but I’m not so sure; it sounds lopsided still, with prominent electric bass and distant drums. Regardless, this is one of my very favorite Sun Ra records.

The sonic imbalances no doubt have to something to do with the cramped quarters of the recording studio. According to French horn player (!), Vincent Chauncey, the Arkestra was reduced to a core group of twelve musicians for this session due to the limited space (Campbell (1st ed.) p.73). Oh, but what a group! Along with Chauncey, Ra’s faithful stalwarts, John Gilmore, Marshall Allen, Danny Davis, Danny Thompson, Elo Omoe, and Jac Jackson fill out the reed section while Ahmed Abdullah plays sensitive, tasteful trumpet and the incredible Craig Harris virtuosically holds down the trombone chair. The rhythm section consists of R. Anthony Bunn on (nice, but overloud) electric bass, Larry Bright on (barely audible) drums, and, of course, Sun Ra himself on the electric Rocksichord. Caught in the midst of a European tour, the Arkestra sounds well-rehearsed, at the top of their game.

But as great as the band sounds on this date, it is Ra’s electric keyboard that makes this such a delightfully engaging record for me. Throughout the album, Ra’s Rocksichord has this weird, wire-thin, reedy sound quality, upon which he pours some molasses-thick phase-shifter that hisses away incessantly in the background. Now, in anyone else’s hands, this would be unbelievably cheesy, even amateurish. Yet Ra guilelessly tackles the wide variety material and, through his visionary technical abilities, miraculously balances the seemingly limited electronic keyboard textures with the expansive, acoustic Arkestra to create a decidedly strange, but appropriately otherworldly ambience. Ra’s ultra-spacey keyboard turns tracks like “Interstellar Low-Ways,”, “Moonship Journey,” and “Journey Among the Stars” into dreamy, nearly narcotic reveries. Even the more straightforwardly big-band-ish tracks like “The Mystery of Two,” “Neo Project #2,” and the aptly-titled “Jazz From an Unknown Planet” are transformed by Ra’s swooshing, buzzing Rocksichord. The brief title track stands out as a vehicle for another classic John Gilmore solo on tenor saxophone atop an intense Arkestra arrangement, but overall the mood is pretty and mellow and perfect for a Sunday evening.

Inauguration Day

I'll say it again: Hope is not a plan, but it sure beats hopelessness!

Inauguration Live Feed via C-SPAN

Continuous discussion, footage, and live coverage of all major Inaugural events courtesy C-SPAN:

Via 'Watch Inauguration Library'

Sun Ra Sunday

No time to write today, but here's a one minute and twenty-three second clip of Sun Ra attacking his electric organ at some unknown venue in 1980. Wild stuff!

Mary Halvorson Trio: Dragon’s Head (Firehouse 12)

Mary Halvorson Trio: Dragon’s Head (Firehouse 12 FH12-04-01-007) (2008)

Mary Halvorson: electric guitar
John Hebert: acoustic bass
Ches Smith: drums

Recorded February 24-25, 2008
Firehouse 12, New Haven, CT

I’ve written effusively about Mary Halvorson before, mostly as a member of Anthony Braxton’s recent ensembles and her work with fellow Braxtonian, Taylor Ho Bynum. But over the past few years, she has made a number of records under her own name, culminating last fall with this superb release on Bynum’s own Firehouse 12 label. Dragon’s Head generated some well-deserved high-profile press, including this generous article in the New York Times. Only twenty-eight years old, Halvorson is already a hugely important player in the avant-music world.

And rightly so. I’ve described Halvorson as the most “complete” guitarist around and what I mean by that is her ability to do (and, more importantly, her willingness to do) everything that can be done with the electric guitar. A guitar is at once a very simple and extremely complicated thing. Most guitarists only aim to accomplish one or two things with the instrument, whether it’s harmonic, melodic, or electronic (and it is seldom all three). Don’t get me wrong, many of the guitarists I dearly love only do a couple things, but they do them really, really well. Halvorson, on the other hand, is in select company because she aims to integrate the entire range of guitaristic possibilities into a unified style: from classical rigor to rocked out distortion, from jazz conventionalism to post-Bailey scumbling and glitchy electronic processing, from folky fingerpicking to the hairpin turns of bebop – all of it subsumed to the purpose of sublime music-making rather than simply showy displays of superfluous technique. This is what makes her a “complete” guitarist and so compelling an artist.

Dragon’s Head further demonstrates Halvorson’s gifts as a composer and each of these ten pieces were written specifically for these musicians. The guitar-bass-drums trio allows for plenty of space for Halvorson to show what she is capable of while Hebert and Smith provide sensitive, intuitive accompaniment. The album opener, “Old Nine Two Six Four Two Dies” starts out sounding a little bit like some of Bill Frisell’s work circa. Gone, Just Like a Train (Nonesuch, 1998) with its loping, quasi-gospel-ish groove. But as things progress, Halvorson’s playing is full of odd and interesting note choices, articulated with an agitated straight-eighth-note edginess that rubs incisively against the swingy, stuttering feel of the rhythm section. The next track, “Momentary Lapse,” immediately demonstrates Halvorson’s command of the electronic aspects of the electric guitar. The piece organically evolves from gentle, ringing chords to full-on raging rock-isms, with effective use of echo/delay, a digital whammy-pedal, and a deliberately shorted-out volume knob to paint a richly textured sound image that reveals the immense orchestral possibilities of the electric guitar. Some of the compositions remind me of Henry Cow and the other “Canterbury” bands with their intricate, stop/start angularity and chamber-music sensibility. At other times, as on “Sank Silver Purple White,” Halvorson’s insistent, dissonant repetitions contrast with Smith’s relentlessly subdivided drumming to remind me a bit of Bill Bruford-era King Crimson. Sometimes Halvorson even rocks out with a Hendrixian fury. But these are just touchstones and an indication that Halvorson’s influences range far beyond the realm of “jazz guitar” – even though her generally pure and dry-as-a-bone tone quality may initially call to mind Jim Hall’s well-behaved traditionalism. Halvorson’s compositional/instrumental identity is all her own, eschewing typical head-solo-head forms and any trace of bluesy cliché. Furthermore, the trio functions more like a band of equals than as simply soloist and support, with plenty of improvisatory freedom for each member to make creative contributions to Halvorson’s engaging compositions. Dragon’s Head succeeds on all levels and is whole-heartedly recommended.

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For an idea of what all the fuss is about, here’s a rather dark, but decent-sounding video of the Mary Halvorson Trio performing “Old Nine Two Six Four Two Dies” at Barbés in Brooklyn, New York on November 12, 2008:

Braxton in Moscow

Here's a one minute and three second video from the Braxton Diamond Curtain Wall concert in Moscow on June 29, 2008. This concert was released on CD by Leo Records and I wrote about it here. This snippet comes from near the end of the concert and everyone is in full flight. Wow!

Sun Ra Sunday

Sun Ra & His Solar Arkestra: Horizon (Art Yard CD08) (2008)

Recorded live at the Ballon Theatre, Cairo, Egypt 12/17/71

The Arkestra’s own Art Yard label continues to make some of the rarest Sun Ra material available with this expanded reissue of Horizon. Portions of this material were originally released on El Saturn 1217718 in Philadelphia, El Saturn 849 in Chicago, and on Thoth Intergalactic 7771, all at various points in the early to mid-1970s and all nearly impossible to find. This CD gathers all the extant recordings from this historic performance at the Ballon Theatre, near the Great Pyramids in Cairo, a suitably cosmic venue for Sun Ra’s band of space travelers.

A trip to Egypt was unplanned, but at the end of the 1971 European tour, Ra decided to sell some concert tapes to Black Lion [FN1] to fund a pilgrimage to the land of the Pharaohs. Thanks to the efforts of Hartmut Geerken, a handful of performances were arranged and, even though the Arkestra’s instruments were held up in customs, loaners were provided by a most unlikely personage:

[Salah Ragab was] a brigadier general and the head of military music in the Egyptian army and himself a jazz drummer. Though he was later disciplined for the contact, he continued to meet with the band under various disguises, including once when he came with the son of [Egyptian President] Gamal Abdel Nasser, also a jazz musician. Musicians and dancers were jammed into the house with several dozen guests, but they still managed a light show and dancing, and a march throughout the house and into the garden (while the Egyptian secret police kept watch from outside). (Szwed p.292-293) [FN2]

This concert is typical for the period, although there’s a certain focus and solemnity to the Arkestra’s demeanor that seems appropriate given the auspicious location. Sun Ra himself is in especially good form with his propulsive piano, spooky “tiger organ,” and hair-raising rocket ship journeys on the Moog synthesizer. “The Shadow World” makes another mysterious appearance with its insanely complicated melodies. “Discipline #8” is especially beautiful with its slowly oscillating two-note riff that subtly anchors the freely dancing drums and powerfully energetic horn solos, duets, and trios. Sing-alongs like “Enlightenment,” “Space is the Place,” and “The Satellites Are Spinning” round things out and feature the angelic voice of June Tyson.

Premises considered, sound quality is pretty good, though not a hi-fi spectacular by any means. Probably recorded from the audience with a single microphone, there’s plenty of ambience but limited frequency response, dynamic range, or soundstage. Fans will, of course, be undeterred by low-fidelity recordings as it comes with the territory. After all, Sun Ra was a trail-blazing pioneer of DIY record production. In fact, that “Saturn Sound” is, for some of us, part of the charm. For others, however, Horizon may be rough going. But as a historical document and a key disc in Sun Ra’s vast discography, this is essential.

[FN1]: Campbell (1st ed.) says these tapes are unreleased. I’m not sure if they have been subsequently made available. Anybody know? (Yes, I need to get the second edition of Campbell’s discography, but it too is woefully out of date at this point).

[FN2]: Some of Salah Rageb’s music can be heard on The Sun Ra Arkestra Meets Salah Ragab in Egypt (Leo/Golden Years GY1, 1999).

Under Construction

As you can see, I have been doing a little redecorating and the place is still kind of a mess. Having updated my template, the blog is now easily customizable and will allow for more multimedia content. I’ve also (finally) successfully installed Google Analytics so I can see if anyone (besides my friends) is actually reading this stuff. Hello? Hello? Is anyone out there? More than that, I intend to devote more space on the blog to simply bookmarking interesting stuff – “Links Instead of Content.” I use my blog as my “homepage” and personal resource. If others are interested, cool!

Actually, I am inspired by my sister’s new book-related-blog and her ability to write so spontaneously yet also so eloquently. (Well, she is an English teacher.) Lord, how I can belabor these meager postings! Perfectionism is anathema to my continued blogging. Even so, I have pretty much kept my goal of averaging one post per week over the past year and I’m hoping the new functionality will allow for more frequent and more diverse kinds of postings in 2009. I’m also going to try to be more relaxed about writing stuff down, even if ultimately wrong-headed and dumb. I’m just a guy with a blog, you know? Who cares? Even though I have strong opinions, I also try to learn from my mistakes and reserve the right to change my mind. The truth is: much of the art I now most value initially repelled me. The friction inherent in the human condition is the source of what little wisdom can be obtained in this lifetime. So, I welcome comments and would cherish the opportunity to engage in dialogue.

I had the exquisite pleasure of spending an afternoon with Sam Byrd on Boxing Day. We had a lovely visit and recorded about an hour’s worth of music in the basement studio. Sadly, my days as a practicing musician are long behind me and my flailing away fell far short of the inspiration I felt to be reunited with my dear old friend and former bandmate. Nevertheless, like everything else, it is what it is and I’m looking into some way to put some tracks up on the blog, just for kicks. There’s tons of stuff in the “archives” that could provide some glimpse into my own music, for whatever it’s worth. Also, as you can see from the picture at the top of the sidebar, I am going to use the blog to host some of my visual artwork (such as it is). The internet is a wonderful (virtual) world. Here’s my little corner.

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Coming up: Sun Ra Sunday!

Pavement: Brighten The Corners (Nicene Creedence ed.)

Pavement: Brighten the Corners (Nicene Creedence ed.) (Matador Ole 805)

I was late coming around to Pavement. In 1994, a co-worker, knowing of my long-time enthusiasm for Sonic Youth, lent me Pavement’s first two albums, Slanted and Enchanted (Matador Ole 038, 1992) and Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain (Matador Ole 079, 1994). I listened to them and enjoyed them well enough, but interpreted the lackadaisical, sunshiny vibe as a measure of their un-seriousness and dismissed them out of hand. Maybe if my friend had lent me Westing By Musket and Sextant (Drag City DC14, 1993), a collection of their early, primitive, noise-drenched singles and EPs, I would have been more receptive. You see, amongst some of my cohorts of the time, non-R&B-based pop music was immediately suspect and only the most outré (that is to say the most unpopular) pop music was deemed acceptable – and then only in small, irony-drenched dosages. Of course, this kind of snobbery is utterly stupid and I regret to say that I succumbed to a kind of aesthetic self-policing that only served to deprive me of a wider range of artistic pleasure. Not surprisingly (and not long after getting married), I eventually drifted away from these particular cohorts and was relieved to find myself free to pursue what I liked (as opposed to merely what I was supposed to like).

So Pavement’s 1995 album, Wowee Zowee (Matador Ole 130) had been garnering a fair amount of press that either declared it an unequivocal masterpiece or a disjointed, failed experiment - or both. Intrigued, I picked up the double-LP and was immediately seduced by the diverse, if crudely fashioned, instrumental textures and Stephen Malkmus’s lilting, cryptic singing. Now, for the most part, I disregard rock lyrics; it is the sound of the music that matters to me, not necessarily what is being sung. There are the obvious exceptions, of course (Bob Dylan, et al.), but Malkmus does something unique. At first blush, his lyrics appear to be words randomly strung together in merely clever euphony, but over time the nonsense strains to cohere into meaning and convey inchoate yet very real emotion. Rather than actual nonsense, Malkmus’s lyrics are, upon closer scrutiny, perhaps the most literary in rock history.

Hooked, I ran out and picked up the rest of Pavement’s catalog.

Now that I was full-blown fan of the band, I bought Brighten the Corners the day it was released, February 11, 1997 and it was to become an indelible part of the soundtrack of that momentous year. The decision had been made to leave Boston and relocate to Nashville – jobs or no jobs. The once gracious, but now decrepit apartment building we were living in was being rapidly gutted so as to be turned into expensive condos and we were soon to be the last tenants remaining. Day by day the building’s interior was stripped of fixtures and plaster. It was spooky and kind of sad; we felt like squatters in our own home even though we were still paying hefty monthly rent. Mixed emotions were running rampant with long goodbyes to friends, endless anxiety over crucial unknowns, but also a giddy excitement for the impending new adventure. Brighten the Corners was one of those records that felt deeply reassuring amidst all the wrenching, (admittedly self-inflicted) unease. “Everybody wants a shady lane”, Malkmus sang in a voice aching with hopeless yearning. Yes, that was what we wanted and we knew we would have to leave the northeast in order to achieve that goal.

It helped that Brighten the Corners contains some of the prettiest songs in the Pavement canon. Besides the aforementioned “Shady Lane,” “Type Slowly,” and “Blue Hawaiian” are simply gorgeous. By this time, the Pavement guys had actually learned to play their instruments and could construct intricate songs full of dynamic contrasts, subtle arrangements, all capped with catchy riffs and melodies. They had also truly come together as an ensemble with Spiral Stairs (Scott Kannberg) coming to the fore with two signature songs: the poppy “Date w/IKEA” and the punky “Passat Dream.” The album flows with a relaxed but insistent continuity ending with the anthemic “Starlings of the Slipstream” and the epochal guitar heroics of “Fin.” Light-handed but effective production by Bryce Goggin and the legendary Mitch Easter lends a gleaming sheen to the music that is still sounds warm, spacious, and detailed. Brighten the Corners sounds really great on the original vinyl LP.

Like others in Matador’s series of deluxe 2-CD reissues of Pavement’s catalog, this one is packed with every associated B-side, stray tracks, radio sessions, plus a bunch of unreleased songs from the original sessions. Pavement were always generous with singles and EPs, and Brighten the Corners (Nicene Creedence ed.) contains some classic B-sides: “And Then (The Hexx)” was originally intended to be the album opener, but the multi-sectional, near-prog-rock dirge would have radically altered the tone of the album. Nevertheless, “And Then (The Hexx)” and “Roll With The Wind,” a hurtling rocker, would become staples of live sets. Convincing covers of “The Killing Moon” and “The Classical” demonstrate Pavement’s 80s-era affinity with both the shimmering Brit-pop of Echo and the Bunnymen and the caustic new wave attack of The Fall. A soaring rendition of “Type Slowly” recorded at the Tibetan Freedom Concert shows just how far Pavement had come as a live band. And for those who pre-ordered Brighten the Corners (Nicene Creedence ed.) from their local independent record store (in my case, the inimitable Grimey’s), you also got a free LP recorded live on the 1997 European tour that further demonstrates what a powerful, cohesive band Pavement had become. (For further evidence, see the Slow Century DVD (Matador 388-9, 2002).

In “The Pavement Tapes,” a contemporaneous New Yorker article reprinted in the liner notes, preeminent music critic Alex Ross wrote:

A Pavement album is a series of small labyrinths. The pleasure of the maze
matters more than finding a way out. After many repetitions, the strangeness of
the language remains; at the same time the lyrics mesh with the music in ways
that make nearly every word sound natural and exact. The band plays the same
trick over and over, so far without exhaustion: weird words decay into
infectious music.

That’s about right. But, unfortunately, exhaustion would eventually overwhelm the band. 1999’s Terror Twilight (Matador Ole 260) was a pleasant, if MOR-ish step backward and internal tensions would split the band for good after a grueling final tour. Brighten the Corners (Nicene Creedence ed.) represents Pavement at the height of their powers, making the most consistent and accomplished music of their career. Some may have lamented the lost shambolic innocence of their early work, but development and growth were inevitable given such talented and frankly ambitious individuals like Stephen Malkmus. Wrongly construed as “slackers,” Pavement was a hard-working band that earned its artistic successes. Listening to this is a reminder that the seemingly moribund world of pop music can still be capable of surprise and evolution. Essential.

Sun Ra Sunday

Photo by Hans Kumpf

Some more half-baked thoughts on music and morality:

Science tells us that all matter is vibrating atoms and that it is the frequencies at which these atoms vibrate that constitute all the various forms of matter, visible and invisible. The substance of music consists of the audible spectrum of vibration (roughly 20Hz to 20kHz) and, as such, reflects the sublime order of the universe. Therefore, when we listen to music, we are (for lack of a better way of putting it) contemplating the divine.

So, does this make the musician a priest in some quasi-religion? Here, things get tricky. Like all human endeavors, music is made by imperfect beings and is therefore imperfect in practice. But the “stuff” of music is the ultimate abstraction of universal truths - a form of prayer - and it is this element that binds people to its endless, necessary, performance in all its variegated diversity of styles and genres. Some music is explicitly sacred, some is as nihilistic and offensive as possible; but its usefulness resides in that contemplation of “cosmic vibrations.” For some people (like me), Sun Ra’s music is most useful; for others it might be Kenny G. For some people it is the explicitly sacred music of their personal faith; for others it is the pop music of the day. The art music world has taken a near-scientific approach to examining the phenomena of music and its investigations have demonstrated that music’s possible manifestations are indeed infinite. Whatever our tastes (and tastes are, of course, nothing but a cultural construct - learned behavior), our need for music arises from its fundamental substance: it is the exact representation of the vibrating universe. This is why we listen to music.

From that we can conclude that all music is intrinsically “moral” in the sense that its essence is the audible manifestation of vibrating matter and our attention to it allows insight (even if unconscious) into profound truths. But to go further and suggest there is more-moral or, conversely, an immoral music is, while tempting, probably too divisive to be useful. Assertions of moral character - even Sun Ra’s - are merely words and, while useful to those who are susceptible to the message, are nevertheless unproveable claims and do not – cannot - inhere in the music itself, except as suggestion, as context. And, as Sam pointed out, “context is everything.” He helpfully pointed to an interesting article that suggests how meta-data influences our interpretation of music by contrasting the inflammatory titles utilized by Muslimgauze (Bryn Jones) to the rather anodyne music itself; any supposed “morality” or “immorality” is wrapped up in a title irrevocably tied to a piece of music in which such controversy or intent is patently absent. Obviously, music’s power can be harnessed as an effective propaganda tool, but human motivations are complex and often contradictory. Even so, we need music in order to comprehend our place in the cosmos, even if our understanding is fractured and incomplete.

So, for me, today, it is Sun Ra (tomorrow it will be someone else). For others, it may be Muslimgauze. Our susceptibility to the proclamations of composers (and others) may allow us to “hear” the morality (or immorality) of their musical creations, but words and their contexts can and do change and what remains are simply the vibrations, the sound itself which so easily expresses the inexpressible and exists beyond the words. The very concepts of morality and ethics are human constructs that music naturally resists when pressed. Music is what is, unconcerned with human frailties. When we experience music, we know more than we can ever say.

Happy New Year!

Sun Ra Sunday

Reader Mr. G commented on my post from a few weeks back regarding Sun Ra's music and morality and he suggested that I check out professor David W. Stowe's paper, From Ephrata (F-Ra-Ta) to Arkestra which draws a parallel between Sun Ra and early-eighteenth century mystic Conrad Beissel. Fascinating stuff, but I'm still skeptical that any ethical component inheres to music itself, rather than merely asserted by proclamation. Still, Dr. Stowe's paper is well worth reading and thinking about (if you think about such things).

Jerry Christmas!

Sun Ra Sunday

Sun Ra Sunday

Sun Ra & His Arkestra: Music From Tomorrow’s World (Atavistic UMS/ALP237)

The companion to last week’s disc, Music from Tomorrow’s World is another collection of never-before heard music from Sun Ra’s tenure in Chicago. The first thirty minutes of the disc consists of an amateur recording of a live set at the Wonder Inn, where the Arkestra, stripped down to a sextet, was in residency for much of 1960. The sound quality is remarkably good considering the era and the less-than-ideal circumstances. Certainly it is full of delightful ambience: the cash register clinks, folks are laughing and talking. But one woman is way into it, shouting encouragements like, “Play it, Sun Ra, play it like you want!” And he does. The repertoire is pretty adventurous for nightclub work, opening with three Ra originals: “Angels and Demons at Play,” a slinky 5/4 ostinato groove with some pretty flute playing by Marshall Allen; “Spontaneous Simplicity” featuring more beautiful flute work over gently rolling rhythms (but who is the second flutist?); “Space Aura” swings hard and fast with a typically brilliant tenor saxophone solo by John Gilmore. Next up are some earnestly goofy vocal numbers, including a truly bent version of “It Ain’t Necessarily So.” It’s interesting to note that Sun Ra plays both acoustic and electric piano in a live setting, using the Wurlitzer for color, not convenience on the cramped stage. “How High The Moon” begins with a Sun Ra poem which leaves the audience puzzled, but things heat up with a cooking Gilmore solo and by that time the crowd is into it, calling out to the musicians, clapping hands, hooting and hollering. A spooky rendition of “China Gate” concludes the set with metallic percussion clattering ominously behind warbling, over-the-top vocals. Fascinating!

The remainder of the disc is given over to a forty-minute Majestic Hall studio session also recorded in 1960. Transcribed from a lowly cassette tape several generations away from the now-lost master recording, it’s pretty rough going sonically compared to the Wonder Inn stuff. Nevertheless, it’s a sparkling performance by an eight-piece Arkestra and includes three previously unheard original compositions by Ra. It’s well worth fighting through the murky sound quality to hear these intriguing bits of music. What’s striking about this session is how polished and well-rehearsed the Arkestra sounds, executing the variety of material with confidence and finesse, especially in the ensemble sections where the rich orchestrations require precision and balance. Too bad it’s so hard to discern amidst the noise and distortion. Still, it’s listenable if you can acclimate yourself to the rather gnarly sound.

Shortly after these recordings were made, Sun Ra and his most dedicated musicians would make their way to New York City (via Canada) and Philadelphia, never to return to Chicago for any extended period of time. With Music From Tomorrow’s World, Atavistic has provided us with another glimpse into Sonny’s working life prior to fulfilling his alter-destiny and is therefore a crucial historical document for Sun Ra fans.

Anthony Braxton Quartet (Moscow) 2008

Anthony Braxton Quartet: (Moscow) 2008 (Leo CD LR 518)

Diamond Curtain Wall Quartet:
Anthony Braxton: sopranino, soprano, and alto saxophones, contrabass clarinet, electronics
Taylor Ho Bynum: cornet, flugelhorn, piccolo and bass trumpets, valve trombone
Mary Halvorson: electric guitar
Katherine Young: bassoon

Recorded live June 29, 2008 at the DOM, Moscow, Russia

Why is this man smiling? Is it because, at age 62, he finally finds himself feted in Russia, land of mystics and revolutionaries? Or is it because, with the Diamond Curtain Wall Quartet, he is creating some of the most viscerally exciting – downright fun music of his career? Or is it because his friends at Leo Records were to rush release this document a mere months after its historic performance? Or is it because, despite the seriousness of his intent, Braxton is just a guy who wants to “kick it about and have some fun”? I suspect all of the above and more.

As you may know, I do love the Victoriaville 2007 CD (Victo 108). Here, the addition of Katherine Young’s throaty bassoon gives the drummer-less ensemble a distinctive flavor. Mary Halvorson continues to impress me as the most complete electric guitarist around – she can do it all, but still always retains her own, delightfully unique voice. Taylor Ho Bynum has taken up a range of brass instruments, in the spirit of AACM multi-instrumentalism, to splash vast washes of tonal colors from valve trombone to piccolo trumpet. As for Braxton himself, he is seemingly at the peak of instrumental prowess, his tone quality on the various reed instruments a burnished, glowing gem. Meanwhile, the Supercollider electronics emit intermittent swirls of noise like some interference in a broadcast signal from outer space. This is wild stuff!

The continuous seventy-minute performance contains such a wide variety of creative, endlessly evocative music that time feels suspended; it’s over before you know it. The music unfolds organically, each succeeding event flowing from what precedes it. The absence of percussion allows things to proceed from the players’ unforced inner rhythms and, over the entire expanse of time, a vast multitude of instrumental approaches are explored. Yet, the musicians’ vocabularies appear limitless and the ending, when it arrives, seems almost arbitrary, as if the music will continue even if we can no longer hear it. The brief encore picks up the intergalactic broadcast in midstream only to lose contact again at the three-minute mark. It is impossible for me to differentiate what is notated music and what is wholly improvised and from what I’ve seen from the scores, they consist of graphical symbols, colors and shapes that leave much to the performer’s interpretation. But the loyalty and dedication of these gifted musicians allows for a perfect union of freedom and responsibility; I mean, it still sounds like Anthony Braxton’s music, even when his voice is silent.

This CD gives us all reason to smile. Thank you Mr. Braxton!

Sun Ra Sunday

Sun Ra: Spaceship Lullaby (Atavistic UMS/ALP243 CD)

The Vocal Groups Featuring Nu Sounds, The Lintels, & The Cosmic Rays
Recorded in Chicago, IL 1954-1960

When Evidence released The Singles (ECD 22164) in 1996, it came as something of shock (to me, anyway) to learn that Sun Ra had been actively involved with doo wop vocal groups prior to the establishment of the Arkestra. In fact, the very first release on the fledgling El Saturn label in 1955 was a 45RPM single featuring the Nu Sounds covering Gershwin’s “A Foggy Day” on the A-side and The Cosmic Rays contributing to a Sun Ra ditty entitled, “Daddy’s Gonna Tell You No Lie” on the flip. Amazingly, Ra continued to record scattered singles with vocal groups up until about 1960. Of course, vocal performance would go on to assume a significant part in the Arkestra’s Cosmo Drama, especially in group space chants and the incantations of June Tyson and Sun Ra himself. But this stuff is something different: an obvious attempt at commercial pop that some Ra aficionados will find downright hokey. But, Sonny would likely reply, “This hokey shit is somebody’s hopes and dreams…don’t be so hip!” (Szwed p.352). In any case, this being Sun Ra, any pop sensibility is decidedly skewed towards the weird and utterly lacking in the kind of vapid slickness that might have aided any entry into the marketplace.

Released in 2003 on Atavistic, Spaceship Lullaby shed more light on this mysterious period in Ra’s discography, gathering together several never-before heard rehearsal tapes of some of the various vocal groups Ra worked with in the mid-to-late 1950s. The Nu Sounds and The Cosmic Rays were both (semi)professional groups and their repertoires are remarkably diverse: jazz standards, show tunes, pop numbers, and Ra compositions that range from the proto-space-chant,“ Spaceship Lullaby” to the virtuosic “Chicago USA.” Apparently written for a contest to determine Chicago’s new theme song, it’s a tour de force of rich imagery and onomatopoeia. The Lintels, on the other hand, were clearly amateurs, probably just young kids taken in off the South Side streets and introduced to disciplined arrangements and enforced self-respect by intergalactic community organizer Sun Ra. You can hear Ra working with them, getting them to try some odd harmonies before calling it a day. Nothing else is known about the Lintels beyond this snippet of tape – not even their names. What remains is a tantalizing glimpse of the kind of street-corner doo wop culture that has been long lost.

Most of the tapes are home recordings with only Ra’s prodding accompaniment on the piano. Occasionally, some spare percussion joins in on the first Nu Sounds session (and Pat Patrick contributes some bari-sax train sounds on the second take of “Chicago USA”). However, a few tracks with The Cosmic Rays feature the entire Arkestra. “Africa” would appear in wordless form on Nubians of Plutonia (El Saturn 406/Evidence 22066 CD) and here is a mere fragment, suggesting an interesting alternate approach to this seminal Ra composition. The sound quality is rough overall, but somehow that only contributes to this record’s considerable charm. Perfect for a Sunday evening.