Elephants on Parade

The Japonize Elephants is more an ensemble than a group. There is a subtle but important difference between the two. With an ensemble the roles and evolution of creation tend to be less static, facilitating an ongoing freedom. One could almost categorize them as an orchestra except that some of the meat of the body of the ensemble encompasses ethno/world/root instruments, forgoing those of the formalized Western orchestral tradition. The ensemble’s name, like their latest album Mélodie Fantastique, embodies  a sort of chance logic akin to the word game created by Andre Breton and Paul Eluard “Exquisite Corpse”.

“Eye Wrote This” has a frenzied Gitane (gypsy) & klezmer feel to it. Structurally, the song is made up of a series of fast runs carried out but several smaller groups within the group. A bolero beat makes an appearance before the vocalese chorus that ends the song. There is the urge to drink and then dance like an inelegant bird unsure of whether it wants to fly. To some extent this song may serve as the ensemble’s calling card in that it seamlessly melds several genres’ music utilizing a full, unique sonic palette to do so. There is some definite quirk to this group but never to the point of distraction nor as any kind of crutch. I am all for humor in music whether in its execution or composition but too often it lapses into gimmick or novelty. The ‘Elephants completely sidestep such dangers with top notch musicianship and compositions which embrace the occasional quirk but never rely upon it.

“Melodie Fantastique” initially has the slurred tongue of the violin which a song earlier had been urging on some kind of dance, playing over a sort of pulsed beat. It takes on a nasal-mid eastern cadence, the temptation of Faust as embodied by the hypnotic gyrations of a belly dancer. Then with the entry of banjo the song morphs; it is an Appalachian get together or the fireside entertainment of a roving band of travelers. The song again morphs (2:30) becoming the sort of aural fanfare that could have been birthed from the head of Nino Rota. Plucked strings singing out as a diverse cast of characters each most likely speaking a different language, cross their arms over each other each hand clasping that of the person on either side of them, the long line snaking out the door of the nightclub heading down the cobblestone street in black and white as the band is left playing to itself and a lone balloon which has fallen at the foot of the stage. The various percussion and vocalese propel the piece forward; the song gets softer, hushed plucked strings and spoons as the line moves further down the street and out of sight.

If Esquivel had been asked to score a Connery era James Bond film it would sound like “End Times, The Theme From Bat Boy”. Vibraphone lays down that cooler than cool pattern over which muted horns pop up before another central figure is introduced by a trebled guitar, the frenzy of someone making love to one of Leo Fender’s Strats. There is not a care in the world as he will get the girl, and dispatch the baddies with a terrible pun. All while being indifferent to the fact that his number, red thirteen, has come up on the wheel.

“Breusters” changes things up with country twang and vocals. The ensemble are all actually very good musicians and on some of the slower more acoustic pieces this really rises to the fore. There is a beautiful lap steel solo in the middle of the song. The vocals are well done; there is that lone star desolation in the two entwined voices that manages to be beautifully blue. It is Tom Joad now a member of a live in the van indie band witnessing a vanishing Americana of honky tonk bars where hipsters are not allowed to order mixed drinks or check their iPhones and every midnight is the start of a new day.

Being a short but sweet track; “An Evening With A thumbtack” is a lone piano murmuring a bluesy minor chord cakewalk which ends with the sound of libations being poured out and sipped. One could almost imagine a small stage with the rest of the band about to take a quick five or return to continue the show. The sound throughout the album is pristine. On the tracks with vocals, when one listens with headphones there is a sonic intimacy as if the artists are standing in the same room.

I highly recommend this CD it is fun; it is art; it is an orgy of sound.

I am in my cranberry colored bathrobe, the sleeve bleached a bubblegum pink from the time I helped Chili dye her hair, I am painting in the garage in an olive green jump suit like Picasso wore during his Ripolin phase, I draw three concentric circles at the bottom of the paper then let all the extra words burn off in the atmosphere. There is a fecundity of ideas to be found in this album, a lopsided joy carried out via excellent musicianship. Three circles upon the paper, through an open window one could almost imagine hearing the Japonize Elephants music playing as they parade down the street, stumping for the circus come to town that escaped E.E Cummings condemnation*.

http://www.thejaponizeelephants.com/

*“Damn everything except the circus.” E.E Cummings

This article is not to be used or reprinted without the expressed permission of Maxwell A. Chandler (maxwellachandler@aol.com)

Density’s Pull: A conversation with Alexander Berne

Maxwell Chandler: Your professional beginnings seemed fairly traditional, backing up people like Albert “Tootie” Heath, and “Jabali” Billy Hart among others. How important was this beginning to what you would ultimately artistically become?

Alexander Berne: That’s hard to say.  I think I was born into a situation where to become an artist was inevitable.  The fact that jazz was an early spark, and was in a sense a good incubator for things to follow, people whom I’ve met, a credo of, “making it work”, the love and awe of a Cannonball Adderley, on and on is something I’m grateful for; and mostly that my first teacher Randy Wanless was and is a master, and he spoke that language, and gave me an incredible start and friendship going on 33+ years now.

MC: After playing in other people’s bands and a prestigious teaching gig you left America for Belgium. Upon your eventual return stateside you had shed your old skin for a new artistic vision. Did the journey facilitate the change or vice versa?

AB: My life in Europe for 2 1/2 years was based on a “spiritual search”.  Which basically means I was miserable and knew I had to fix it, and approach the issues directly, I had no choice. The scenery was not critical per se. Quite a while before leaving I had formed much of my hyper – personal saxophone methods/techniques.

MC:  What brought you back stateside?

AB: Malnutrition, depression, desperation…lovely things like that.  It was time to be back at home in NYC.

MC: You have actively been involved in creating an array of custom instruments. How did that come about?

AB: I think it’s quite natural when spending so much time with something (or someone even) to have frustration with limitations, ideas about what could be better, questions about why certain possibilities seem easy while others are so out of reach, at least for me it’s usually the case.

The saduk was my 1st real foray into instrument making and is the most fully realized instrument to date. I experimented with metal pipes, electrical tape, tin foil, saxophone mouthpieces of all manner. Here’s something I wrote for The Saduk CD which pretty much sums it up:

“What do nearly all instrumental virtuoso do? Running headlong into limitations, they make significant changes to their instruments or in some cases make a new one entirely. I love the saxophone deeply, but it has some inherent constraints. It is a ‘heavy’ instrument, laden down with many large keys; you need a lot of breath to vibrate its elongated conical metal tube. Often longing for a more tender palette of expression than the saxophone would allow, – I developed flute envy. My solution was to create the saduk, the simple open-holed flute/reed hybrid featured on these tracks. Inspired in equal measure by an inner sound – one that I have ‘felt’ as much as ‘heard’ throughout my life – and the primal, tender wind instruments found in most world traditions, this recording marries a prenatally familiar wind expression with voice, percussion, saxophone and other acoustic sounds.”

MC: Do you have a favorite? How tied into your playing & composing is the creation of these instruments and could you ever do one without the other?

AB: My favorite is as of yet unrealized. It’s a new saxophone like instrument, but has a flexibility and range of timbres heretofore unrealized in a single instrument.

MC: Your music has cerebral components and an overall density which legitimately makes it more accurate to describe as modern classical with elements of improvisation. It seems that in America such aural art has become marginalized to a specific semi hidden audience. Does this ever effect the ambition of the scope of a project or how long after completion you remain involved with the performing/promoting of a work?

AB: I have arrived (for now at least) at a place where the pursuit of my art is important in and of itself.  Meaning I trust I am only somewhat delusional, and that I know when I am cheating, being lazy, betraying my self, all the “bad habits” and “the pull” away from “the pursuit”.  I will admit it’s, if not a losing battle, certainly a Sisyphean struggle.

So my ambition as you say, is great…as the standards are awesome, daunting, limitless, unachievable.  Not MY standards, but THE standards.  Set by the masters in all fields, places, times.  I’m fortunate, I have been surrounded by “greatness”. So it’s easy in that sense to keep going.  The goal for me is just to be a drop in the bucket. Not be intimidated but rather just offer up my little effort, my humble talent, mediocre worth-ethic, on the the alter of infinite creativity, inspiration.

As for promotion: I’m a beggar…please listen to my music!

MC: It would seem so many things regardless of the medium that have weight to them are destined to only obtain a certain level of exposure.  Do genre defying artists have to make a conscious decision to not contemplate how “big” they will be or is it a form of stoicism which one learns organically with the passage of time?

AB: Speaking of myself only, again I’m at a nice place when I do that which I can do right here, right now.  Can I make myself a star? In demand? Popular?

I can however practice, study, go in the studio an deal with matters at hand, or ear, or eye.  Complaining in my mind, asking why, when I know there’s no answer, is a self indulgent wine better taken in small infrequent sips.  Reminding myself any complaints I have are more honestly excuses is a good thing. I have to remember, I have everything I need right now, to do something potentially great…it’s up to me.

MC: Once Honore de Balzac (1799-1850) became fully (artistically) realized he said that he no longer read other’s work as he did not need the inspiration in that form. Do you still listen to other people’s work to keep the juices flowing or for enjoyment and if so how have your listening habits and tastes changed over the years?

AB: I love music. I love to listen.  And there is a seemingly never ending wealth of music that I say,  “Wow! I wouldn’t mind if my name was on that!”.  I see a lot of, shall we say, a lack of generosity in artists…and I also see the opposite too!  Ask yourself, “Did I give that recording, painting, movie, etc. the same quality of attention, atmosphere, and benefits I give my own work?”  Of course, de gustibus non est disputandum.

MC: All your albums have a fantastic sound to them. How much of a factor does technology play in your compositions? Has technology ever changed a composition from its inception to execution live or in the studio?

AB: The studio as an instrument is a new and blossoming endeavor/fascination for me.  For years I was obsessed with sound, on my saxophone.

True stories about practicing one note only, for considerable lengths:  living at home my parents forced me to see a shrink thinking I was insane with that one note.  And for a while in NYC I would practice after-hours in a large basement real estate office.  After months, this lovely chap who cleaned at night, the only other soul in earshot, listening to my note every night, approached me.  We had never spoken and he said, “Man don’t you know any songs? I mean you can’t keep playing that one thing forever?”

The studio is infinite saxophones…kickin’ my arse!  I didn’t have any idea what compression was just a minute ago.  Now I geek out about trying to hear differences between optical,  VCA, Variable MU, FET. Mics, preamps, EQs, tonal shaping of aux sends, reverb chambers…insane.  And also a danger that it all becomes an excuse, a distraction.

Yes I think all my work is a balance, a negotiation, a conversation between what I can do and what I want to do, my circumstance vs. my vision

MC: Your music is very cinematic which is apt as you have also done film work. How did that come about?

AB: My grandfather Gustave Berne was a theatre and film impresario, so I had a start there I suppose.  I do believe that I am naturally inclined towards the sound/vision synaesthetic.

MC: You also paint, between all your mediums is there ever a cross pollination of inspiration?

AB: Inspiration is frequently in my case, just about getting started and then trusting providence will meet me half way.  Certainly I have ideas and I prepare for them, and all that’s required to bring such to fruition, but often if I may, the medium is not the message.

MC: With art in any medium, the audience makes a personal totem of a work, not necessarily in line with the intent of the artist. How important is it for people to be attuned with your intent when approaching one of your pieces?

AB: I would like to think that if someone, “gives me a chance”, meaning say in the case of my recorded sounds, at least allowing themselves an atmosphere where absorption would be possible, that I have a good likelihood of touching them.  As I said, beggars can’t be choosers.


MC: Is it possible to sum up your artistic philosophy and in doing so would it enhance one’s enjoyment of your work?

AB: I heard my mentor say once,  “Art is that which represents you when you are not there.”  A few ways to read that…

http://www.alexanderberne.com/

*This article is not to be used or reprinted without the expressed permission of Maxwell A. Chandler (maxwellachandler@aol.com)

The Definitive Charley Patton (Catfish Records)

The late 1800’s/early 1900’s, the term “redneck” had drastically different connotation than that which it carries today. Initially it was a verbal short hand to describe the Irish and Scottish immigrant farmers down south. After a day in the fields their necks burnt a lobster red. Like all who joined the great melting pot with dreams and hopes of something better, they brought their songs to sing with them. Folk melodies, murder ballads, played with a lot of the instruments which would be used for the early country music. This mixed with the sung laments of plantation slaves birthed the blues.

The earliest blues was a complex amalgam of these three seemingly divergent sources, country, folk and plain song brought over by the slaves. In the far future practitioners may have more chops, but the construction and influences would never again be as open minded, nor as organically mixed.

The embodiment of this first great wave of bluesmen was Charlie Patton. The exact date of his birth is often debated. Given sometimes as April 1887 or 1891. He himself was never sure, the later date being supplied by his parents for a 1900 census poll. He could not read or write except his name which he always slowly spelled out loud C-h-a-r-l-i-e. Ironically throughout his oeuvre it is spelled Charley.

Charlie was descended of mixed blood which included white, Native American and African American. The oddly pejorative term “good hair” (Caucasian-like) was often used to describe him when not talking about his music.

His family was religious and disapproved of his music and his casual teachers. The music was referred to as “Devil’s music” and his romance with it often earned him beatings from his father. Eventually, for whatever reason his father eased up, even buying Charlie a guitar. It was shortly after this he hit the road never again to return home for any real length of time.

Charlie’s main recorded output was the blues, but this was far more a financial decision on the part of the record company than a personal artistic choice on Charlie’s part. It was the same commercial consideration which largely kept Charlie’s less blues like pieces from ever seeing wax.

He did not seem to mind. Often to give an audience their money’s worth, when performing Charlie would toss and catch his guitar, play the underside percussively, drum like or when the mood struck him, behind his head. Considering what was resonating from him, all far from necessary.

Although he never liked to complain, like many artists of his day (and sadly, in ensuing decades) Charlie was taken advantage of by record companies. He and other artists would have to commute to Northern cities to record or in makeshift studios set up in barns or flop houses.

These early blues men were pursued by record companies not out respect for their artistic merits but in hope of creating an African American record buying (phonographs too) public. With few exceptions this was driving vision behind these small companies.

Pony Blues was successful, Charlie’s biggest seller (Paramount Records). In keeping with the times only the smallest trickle of money went to him. From his point of view, while never becoming rich, he was kept in sandwiches, whiskey and smokes. Always happy enough to not have to do manual labor as often.

Pea Vine Blues used a new gimmick thought up by the record company. The record was released with a contest. The singer was listed as “The Masked Marvel” its cover depicting an illustration which looked like Charlie donning a Lone Ranger styled mask. Contestants were asked to guess his identity. The winner received a Paramount Record of their choice. The contest entry forms accompanied the record all 10,000 sold out. Staggering when you consider that this was well before the age of mass media or quick communication. Paramount Records hedged their bets by also doing up 7000 promo posters and ads in The Chicago Defender, the premier paper for the other side of segregated America.

The initial pressing quickly sold out creating the market for a second pressing, a then rarity for such a specialized market.

Interestingly enough, Charlie had recorded (briefly) some religious hymns under the pseudonym J.J Hadley. Either name was an accepted answer for the contest.

Charlie was of average height and slight build (135lbs) but some of his material was musical boasts concerning his prowess and potency. (Charlie as a proto rapper?). Mostly though, he and other blues forefathers would recite topical verse over often simple but hypnotic beats. Charlie is believed to be the first one to use the now standard twelve bar blues pattern.

Initially, before the lexicon of blues standards was born, the tales in Charlie and his peers songs were intricate, image rich American Gothic. Flannery O’Connor meets the juke joint.

In Charlie’s lyrics, depending upon your point of view, God or the devil was ever present, not as an incarnation, but as natural calamities. Floods, the taste of one’s mortality, even boweevils. Despite the commercial considerations of what Charlie recorded, there was always more than just some woman having done him wrong. Deeper themes whose narrative complexity still retain their power in this modern age when Charlie’s way of life has long since vanished.

Another key appeal of Charlie’s work was his vocals. The lyrics were often obscured. The cadence of his voice being used as a second instrument. There is something about the sound of those simple, yet hypnotic beats mixing with that voice. It reaches deep down into you, a primal twitch. I like to listen to this in the dark. You should listen to this in the dark, listen anywhere desolation and appetite can be poetry.

It was said that Charlie had, had eight wives. At the very least he had eight roommates. With a hair trigger temper he had fought with all of them.

When not in jail, sick or recording, this American troubadour was out living the life he would represent in his art. Reporting on what he saw and interjecting his own opinions. One of the strongest tracks off of CD #2 is “High Water Everywhere”. This was based off of the 1927 Mississippi flood and its after effects as he witnessed them. It is from the episodic growl as much as the cabaret theater world of Brecht/Weil that Tom Waits would build his initial musical foundation  off of.

Long time brother in arms Willie Brown spent years observing and playing with Charlie. From the practical application of this apprenticeship Willie became a great blues man in his own right. It was from Willie in the 1920’s a teenage Robert Johnson attempted to learn.

With the onslaught of the depression, many small record labels folded, times were tough all around and Charlie made due the best he could. By the mid 1930’s, Charlie, in his mid forties began to feel the effects of his lifestyle. A fight one night ended with Charlie having his throat slit and living to sing about it. Bad woman, good cocaine and strong whiskey with an endless supply of cigarettes to mark the time in between each.

1934 saw the depression finally beginning to bottom out. People no longer needed to be tunnel-visioned on how to eat, where to find work. It would be several more years until it was done with completely. The theory that affordable distractions will always make money in times of trouble has been proven again and again.

W.R Calaway of The American Record Corporation wanted to record Charlie. For what would be Charlie’s last sessions he tracked the artist and his wife Bertha Lee who would share vocal duties, down to a Mississippi jail where they were both serving time for having had one of their knock down drag outs at a house party. W.R Calaway made bail and brought the pair to New York.

New York was having one of its bad winters. Charlie was already frail and sick. Both in lyrical content and in his haunted performance Charlie seems to have felt the ebb and flow of his mortality.

One of Charlie’s last recorded songs was 34 Blues, 34 being slang for “go away”. Three months after his final sessions while living on a plantation with another woman Charlie died of a heart condition brought on by an attack of rheumatic fever. As he lay dying, in delirium, it was to the reciting of one of the religious hymns he recorded as J.J Hadley he occupied his last days until death finally took him.

The sound on these three CDs is good, it has been cleaned up, but not sanitized to the point of loosing its soul in studio artificiality. At times there is the ambient presence of a 78’s hiss. It works, it belongs. The effect is akin to listening to some of the great prewar Edith Piaf recordings which contain the same hiss. It furthers the effect of being spoken to from another time, without ever distracting or lessening the art. So well does it work, it almost seems as if these two artists, so different, both incorporate the hiss and technological limitations into their deliveries and technique.

The songs are all presented in chronological order which I always think is a nice touch. Aside from the aforementioned “High Water Everywhere” another personal favorite (CD #2) is “Mean Black Moan” which features a trance inducing guitar pattern, with the singing violin sounding almost like an upper register clarinet all occurring while the tale is told.

Henry Sims on violin is perfect. He had a touch which managed to be both raw and subtle. He would go on to work with later day blues man Muddy Waters. It offers a glimpse of what might have been if Charlie had had opportunity for more instrumentation or at least further sympathetic accompaniment.

The packaging is nice. The three CDs are packaged in hard cardboard sleeves to look like old  78’s which are housed in a good looking little box with an eighteen page informative booklet.

This compares nicely with “The Best of Charlie Patton” (1 CD Yazoo). Yazoo was one of foremost revivalist of early American music chroniclers. This is one CD and not really that much less than this three CD set.

The crown jewel for any serious collector is “Screamin’ and Hollerin’ the Blues:The Worlds of Charley Patton” (7 CDs Revenant Records) This is literally functional art. Designed to look like a large 78’s record box, it includes lots of reading material including the long out of print thesis on Charlie by John Fahey, stickers interviews and other Charlie related literature. An investment to be sure, but worth it.

It was not until 1980 Charlie was actually induced into The Blues Foundation’s hall of fame. In 1990 singer John Fogerty paid for a proper funerary monument to be erected. Other Mississippi blues men are talked about and sited more often. Charlie’s stuff, because of its deeply personal delivery would be far harder to emulate. This is the king. From the roots of this musical tree would flow far reaching and diverse branches.

Charley Patton-guitar/vocals

          On some tracks:

                 Willie Brown-second guitar

                  Henry Sims-violin

                  Bertha Lee-vocals

 

 

 

 

*This article is not to be used or reprinted without the expressed permission of Maxwell A. Chandler (maxwellachandler@aol.com)

The Tears Which Water The Flowers: Fado

You can say that jazz is one of, if not the only, purely American art form. While that is no longer true, and while in it’s infancy it needed the nurturing which it could only receive abroad due to segregation, that heady stew which drew from so many diverse sources could only have been cooked in what was then, the great melting pot.

While being an older music, Portugal’s Fado is made up of as many diverse ingredients. Aside from sharing jazz’s multi-ingredient make up it also shares jazz’s emotional ability. The music manages to resonate an emotional landscape to its audience which is felt by each listener  to be unique and deeply personal, while at the same time embracing all who are open to it.

To classify Fado as Portuguese “Blues” is to paint too simple a picture, to miss the point. Even the sorrow, base component for both is of different worlds. Nor should Fado or its cousins Tango, Duende and Flamenco be categorized as mere world/folk music. Such terms too often now conjure up images of urban hipsters on a shopping spree at Borders.

Much like (Western) classical, one could spend their life familiarizing themselves with specific pieces, becoming a connoisseur in the same way one would with Wagner’s Ring Cycle. Indeed, there are complexities to rival any piece from the classical canons. There are established “rules” which gave way to sub genres and different “cults” of performers and compositional styles. Another way too, it is similar to the world of jazz, with its divisions of Bop, Cool, Free (et al), Jazz, Fado, like all great art, steeped in tradition and ever in flux.

Like jazz and classical too, the established structure is often added to by each generation, new groups of players and composers adding reflections of their world view to renew the music and make it distinctly their own. The cadence of the Fadista’s voice can vary, although never according to the purist, but never the lyrical structure nor their intent.

Lyrically Fado songs are all about a sort of nostalgic longing. It is heartbreak, but also a thankfulness that something could have ever been a trigger for such powerful emotions. Fado comes from the Latin word Fatum which means [an utterance , esp. a divine utterance]; hence [destiny, fate, the will of a god]; personif. Fata, [the Parcae or Fates]; [doom, fate, misfortune, ruin, calamity]. However, this definition gives only the smallest clue, a glimpse into what Fado has to offer, is about.

Like all music which has become deeply rooted in a culture’s identity, the exact origins of Fado remain unknown. It is known that Fado started appearing in the 1820’s. Within to be found, there are elements of African slave rhythms, Portuguese sailor music and some Moorish influences. Initially there were but two types of Fado, originating from two specific areas in Lisbon. From Alfama and Mouraria came Fado which had a more salon/drawing room style. A chamber music using vernacular, beautiful but rigid in how the pieces were arranged and performed. The other type came from Coimbra and incorporated Brazilian hall music popular with the heavy influx of Brazilian students who were appearing at this time. While both styles proved to be equally popular, it would be another hundred years before any Fado music was put down on wax.

A key lyric ingredient for Fado is the feeling known as Saudade. It is the nostalgic aspect of Fado. It concerns people, heartache and remembrance as opposed to the other often used ingredient Banzo. Banzo is a nostalgia for one’s culture and homeland. Both are connected to the music through a beautiful sense of longing. An inner ache made into music in hopes that sharing this will perform some sort of release, but also showing a respect for the broken heart whose pain lets us know we are alive. Life so sharply felt is always worth living.

Lyrical content aside, another thing which was initially required for a piece of music to be considered Fado was a specific line up of instruments. Sonically, the most prominent instrument is what’s known as The Portuguese Guitar. This is a twelve string instrument descended from a Moorish lute-like instrument and what is known as a Cistern. The tuning involves “watch key” tuning keys as opposed to modern day machine head pegs which are found on most guitars. When used for soloing, it possesses  a fuller sound than its relatives, the mandolin, lute or cistern. This guitar was teamed up in the early days with a Spanish Guitar (classical style guitar) which the Portuguese called a Viola and a bottom end provided by a double bass.

Now one can find larger instrumental ensembles playing Fado on a far more diverse group of instruments both acoustic and electric. This early trio of instruments though, made sense in their portability and the perfect supportive counterpoint they provided to each other and the voice telling the tale. For those not strict or “conservative” in their definition of what can be considered Fado, Fado music can now be heard, combining traditional instruments with more modern day technology to great effect (see the albums of Madredeus and Mariza who combine an organic Euro-groove feeling with Fado’s power).

The first known “star” of Fado was a prostitute named Maria Severa. She was born the daughter of an innkeeper in 1820 in Lisbon. Her voice is unrecorded but there are many tales, all hard to confirm as hard fact which have become part of the public consciousness of Portugal. Her legends all seem to contain many of the same elements which can be found in the powerful art form she helped birth. Her first lover was shipped off to Africa during a flourish of Portuguese colonialism. She lamented his passing but soon was attached to a count. In his salons she shocked everyone by performing what would become Fado. Eventually the count was forced to separate himself from her. After this second major heart ache, in a fatal  mood of Saudade she committed suicide in an orgy of the senses, drinking and eating (game bird) herself to death in one sitting.

The major lexicon began to form when poets, a natural fit for such subject matter, became involved in applying their pen. The early body of Fado work, the “standards” quickly numbered over two hundred.

The first and eternal modern day queen of Fado is Amalia Rodrigues. She had a long career and never seems to have taken an artistic misstep, a rarity for any artist with such longevity. Amalia was born July 23, 1920. Much like Louis Armstrong with his second birthday which was always give as July 4, Amelia always insisted she was born on July 1^st. In the timeless tradition of many great artists, she started working at an early age, hard, tedious jobs. At the age of nine she gave her first recital at her primary school. At this time too, she was selling  fruit on the streets of Lisbon and doing embroidery work. During these formative years she could also be found working in a cake factory and in a souvenir shop with her mother and sister. Her talent and drive were such that every year marked an important “first” for her. Too many to list, too many to keep this interesting. Two artistic touchstones however should be mentioned: 1935 marks the first time she performed, accompanied by a guitar during a benefit concert. 1945 sees Amalia make her first recording a 78 RPM single, done in Brazil.

During her career Amalia did extensive touring. She wracked up an impressive amount of appearances in movies, both at home and abroad. She seems to have fared better on the big screen than some of the other musical greats who tried, sometimes being the only good thing in a film. In the 1950’s her power was such that she worked directly with many of her country’s greatest poets, some even writing lyrics specifically for her.

Amalia was often considered “the only” cultural ambassador to Portugal (literary giants Fernando Pessoa and Jose Saramago might beg to differ). In her final years she was still making albums, the last one cut only a year before her death. In celebration of her long career there was a five hour television documentary made with her complete cooperation and featuring many candid conversations with the artist and some rare concert footage. This was eventually edited down for a DVD titled “The Art of Amalia”. When  Amalia died at the age of 79 the prime minister called for three days of national mourning. Her house in Lisbon is now a museum.

The best album for beginners, and the one I started off with is:

The Art of Amalia Rodrigues (Hemisphere). This is a compilation with pieces spanning the years 1952-1970.  Unlike “best of” albums by jazz singers one does not get the feeling they are viewing only a small part of the picture, one aspect of the performer. Another contrast I have found from Jazz singers and even opera divas is that there is no division of artistic periods. There is none of that “I enjoyed this incarnation of her band when she had…” Nor is there such cherry picking of which recording labels receive preference from the enthusiasts. It all seems to have the same sonic feel and there is always an immediate connection with whom ever is accompanying her, year and record label aside.

The songs are of three different Fado styles although only the experienced Fado listener is going to notice any huge difference. I am not a Fado conservative, but when I want my insides to vibrate in melancholy sympathy to the music, I prefer the traditional type of Fado. All the pieces on this album even the “evergreen” pieces have that.

Even though there are decades separating some of these performances. None give that feeling of coming at us from a distant, other time. It is unlike the earliest Edith Piaf recordings which sound as if they were only made to emerge from a Zinc tulip of a Victrola. Indeed, upon first listening, before reading the liner notes, I was surprised to find out how old some of the pieces were.

When I listen to the album it is always from start to finish. There is not one track without power. One favorite is “Vou Dar de Beber A Dor” (track 5 1968). The Portuguese Guitar does a bright, repetitive playful pattern. Her voice sounds sensual and playful always without the least affectation.

Jazz, Fado, you can tell people about it, but it is a road they must go down themselves. A trip which can last a life time and one which I highly recommend.

*This article is not to be used or reprinted without the expressed permission of Maxwell A. Chandler (maxwellachandler@aol.com)

FFEAR Agents: Mirage by Forum For Electro-Acoustic Research

There has always been a cross pollination between classical music and jazz. From the more obvious examples of Igor Stravinsky writing a piece for Woody Herman to various jazz components finding their way into some of the compositions of Le Six member Darius Milhaud (who Dave Brubeck would study under) to the not as apparent modern classical leanings of musician/composers whose work was genre defying but definitely with its complexity, has one foot in the modern classical world (Ornette Coleman, George Russell et al).

Jazz has sometimes been called “American Classical”. It has long since branched out, now being found in almost every country in one form or another. Initially, like a lot of classical genres though it mirrored some of aspects of the nation which birthed it. Just as we associate Bach with Germany and Haydn with Austria could hot jazz have come from anywhere but Storyville, bop from NYC? Jazz was modern classical in that it was a nascent art form springing up out of a young nation, aurally capturing an encroaching modernist zeitgeist. It was the towering steel and glass pagan totem poles of the skyscrapers; it was crackling with energy and the potential to artistically go off in a tangent of directions. It mirrored the diversity of the nation in regards to the styles of its top players whose individuality helped spawn a myriad of genres. The scope of the complexity of the compositions of some of the more forward thinking composers who easily kept up with their European counterparts showed that like the nation itself there was still a connection of having sprung from the old world even as new sensibilities where grafted on.

There are artists whose oeuvre contains plenty of examples of a classical/ jazz hybrid usually nestled within a body of work which also includes songs that more often than not achieved a higher degree of popularity than that of their weightier stuff. So in describing an Ellington or Mingus we split the difference and often apply the moniker of song writer but they are along with people like Gershwin and a handful of others, our cannon of composers.

As the soundtrack to youth, bohemians and outsiders, jazz has been supplanted first by rock and now by a sort of lowest common denominator aural bread and circus.  Speaking in the broadest sense of the term jazz has become marginalized and if jazz has become a sort of second class citizen then modern classical even more so. The only upside to this attitude is that with commercial considerations taking a backseat it allows for artistic bravery combined with the easier to use, less expensive recording technology which has enabled pockets of artist throughout the country to bring forth their explorations for the rest of us to hear.

There is music which defies genre. It contains improvisatory elements layered within a complex composition. Although not necessarily accurate, a point of reference is needed for critics, journalists and the record buying public when discussing it. With improvisation in its DNA this music is more often than not put in the jazz category.  Although often lumped in with free-jazz/nu jazz/downtown sound et al modern classical would be a more apropos moniker. This loose knit confederation of composers and compositions have some common denominators, such as improvisation but as it is not a proper movement nor genre unto itself,  there is no static formula to the amount of improvising or soloing found in any given piece. This keeps it interesting and allows for much sonic individuality even from piece to piece within one composers oeuvre.

Mirage is an album whose classification straddles not just genres but musical fences, at times leaning more towards jazz at others modern classical.  FFEAR is quartet co-led by Ole Mathisen and Chris Washburne. For the non-musician or more casual listener, the quartet seeks to break the traditional restrictions of a smaller ensemble by utilizing rhythmic complexity and overall layered sonic denseness. In the brief liner notes by Chris Washburne the group clearly recognizes both the jazz and modern classical in their DNA.

The album is comprised of two suites “Mirage” and “Frederick Sommer Suite” along with three original standalone pieces.

“Mirage” was written by Mathisen. It is a suite in five pieces. It is unified not as programmatic nor tone poem subject of person place or thing but by technique. Shifting emotions and sonic expansions make the mere four voices unite into dense ever changing aural kaleidoscope growing larger than their numerical reality.

A perfect symmetry, the suite begins and ends with sections titled “Haze”.  All the rest of the sections’ titles allude to visual perceptions which could also be associated to some extent with sounds. ”Haze” starts out as a heated conversation carried out by compadres in a friendly tone. There is somewhat of an ascending/descending feel to it similar to components of a Monk song. Throughout the section Per Mathisen’s bass has a bright tone which is never weighed down so much as to prevent an organic buoyancy which is inherent in a lot of his playing. He brings a nice low end weight to the ensembles’ sound which is not the heaviness of concrete but of forethought. Weaving in and out of the first theme is Ole Mathisen’s sax. He plays flurries of notes which in rhythm and tempo depart, breaking the section’s orbit, to return to the theme just as quickly. Despite the ability to fire off quick salvos of notes, it never feels the discordance in his soloing is reduced to mere noise.

The second section “Shimmer’s” start features Tony Moreno’s subtle cymbal pulses which serve to offer up the abstracted mystery of the section. The first part is slow but not melancholy. It is the change from night to day, from clear skies to overcast. Chris Washburne’s trombone playing shows him to be forward thinking but not locked into one type of tone. He offers up a lament here which serves as both a small duet and contrast to what is going on with the sax.

The final section is my personal favorite of the suite. The trombone initially alternates between a sort of dream dog bark and something large bubbling or seeping upwards, an expanse of clouds blotting out the sun seeming all the more dramatic as it is already dusk. There are tempo changes punctuated by declamations of the sax. Cymbal and snare work in a sort of distorted waltz-march  help suggest the image Mobius strip like of a thing attempting something which involves motion, Sisyphus forsaking his jazz  for a new sonic hybrid. The last half of the section eschews its initial rhythm for a sped up climax, the dream done, for now.

The second suite, “Frederick Sommer Suite” was named for the selfsame multi medium artist (1905-1999). Frederick was born in Angri, Italy. While very young the entire family moved to Rio di Janero, Brazil. His father, who was a city planner, recognized a similar talent in his son who began his architectural studies very early on apprenticing with the architects Archimedes Memoria and Francisco Cuchet whose firm Escritorio Tecnico Heiter de Mello was one of Brazil’s most important. Even as a teenager he had such visual chops that his drawings received gallery showings and after only being with the firm for two years he began getting private landscaping commissions. A meeting with American businessman and amateur Horticulturalist William Gratwick Sr. served as inspiration for Frederick to go to America (1925).

After making the acquaintance of the Chairman of the Landscape department at Cornell University, Edward Gorton Davis, William served as his assistant for a year before enrolling as a graduate student. While at Cornell he met his future wife Frances Elisabeth Watson and delved deeper into various modernist theories. By 1927 he received his Master of Arts degree in landscape architecture. He returned to Rio alone to form a firm with his father receiving many consultant commissions for various parks in Rio, Curitiba, Parana and Salvador. Now with reputation and pedigree cemented in, he returned stateside to marry Frances after which they both moved back to Brazil.

A lung hemorrhage lead to the discovery of tuberculosis (1930) and a trip to a sanatorium in Switzerland. It is while taking his rest cure he first begins to experiment with photography not to capture the end result of a commission but as an artistic medium unto itself.

After treatment first his wife, then a few months later, Frederick would go to Tuscon, Arizona whose dry steady weather would be ideal for his condition. Unlike some of his European artistic peers who emigrated or visited America, Frederick traveled the country extensively. The state of Arizona hired Frances as a social worker and she did her training at The University of Southern California which enabled them to move to Los Angeles. It was while in Los Angeles that Frederick saw composer drawn musical scores in a library. He felt that there was a direct correlation between the visual patterns and their appeal to the music contained within the body of a written out score. Although he himself had no musical training, he began writing his own scores based only on his invented theory of visual score logic. It is said that utilizing his theory he could look at a written score and know who the composer was.

He is primarily known now for his photography but he never stopped drawing and aside from his watercolors and illustrations did many of what he dubbed “drawings in the manner of musical scores”. Often Frederick is lumped in with the surrealists but this tag is somewhat of a misnomer. He socialized with some of surrealists and there are some commonalities of theme and cross pollination of ideas as exemplified by some similarities of Hans Bellmer’s “Doll Project” and his own “Chicken” photograph, his later collages and those done by his acquaintance Max Ernst or his bordering on abstract landscape photographs and some of those of fellow photographer Man Ray. Frederick was far less dogmatic in his surrealism and also forgoes the satirical darkness so often a part of other surrealists’ work. His work was well represented in galleries, museums and universities something that was anathema to surrealist’s pope Andre Breton, whose chief rule to the canon had always been that the surrealists were not allowed to publish or show except for in the very few sanctioned venues. A rule which he obsessively upheld and which would serve to facilitate every member of the group eventually quitting or being drummed out for the infraction. What Frederick seemed to get out of surrealism was permission and inspiration to break established modes of technique and even sometimes subject matter in service of his creative process.

It was not until 1968 that some of his scores saw their first public performance by Stephen Aldrich (piano) and Walton Mendelson (flute) both of whom had met him as students and moved into his circle. It would not be until 1990 that the two would again perform some of the pieces at a Prescott College reunion. The pieces available to listen to online are compelling, showing like some of his visual work, commonalities that were in the modernist air while equally displaying his individuality.

FFEAR’s “Frederick Sommer Suite” is the same in that the ensemble is not seeking to parrot his aural aesthetics but to tip their collective hat to the artist who would have enjoyed the complexity of the piece that sacrifices none their identity in service of the tribute which is drawn from their interpretation of some of his scores.

Frederick never titled any of his scores, which the band does for each section of the suite inspired by the sonics. “Borrowed Time” (No.1) has an elliptical feel to it. There is the steady bass and hi-hat work over which trombone and sax declaim. One of the successes of this ensemble overall is the warm sound they are able to maintain in their playing throughout the album. Every instrument is heard no matter how much it drops back in a piece yet there is none of that digital perfection coldness that can mar an otherwise good album.

“Circle Back” (No 2) features the two horns starting out playing in unison to great effect, so perfect is their synchronicity there is an almost fat synth like cadence to their sound. The percussion is a churning polyrhythmic cloud whose form is constantly changing. There is a break where only bass plays with light cymbal work;   the effective starkness maintained until the two horns rejoin, this time not in unison, two thoughts connected but separated by the room they must fly across when said out loud.

The album ends with three more originals and they are just as enjoyable as the first two suites, not giving off the feeling of being mere filler as can occasionally happen when an album’s main program is a piece which is long but not long enough to utilize all the space.

This is a worthwhile album which easily stands up to repeated listenings. It serves as a reminder too that artistic boundaries need not be obeyed or even considered during a piece’s inception and execution.

Links of interest:

http://www.fredericksommer.org/

http://www.wm-arts.com/Sommer/sommer_music.htm

http://chriswashburne.com

“Life is the most durable fiction that matter has yet to come up with, and art is the structure of matter as life’s most durable fiction.” Frederick Sommers

 

*This article is not to be used or reprinted without the expressed permission of Maxwell A. Chandler (maxwellachandler@aol.com)

Inner & Outer Journeys: Alexander Berne’s latest double album

Full disclosure: I did write the liner notes for this double set but I had been a great admirer of Alexander’s work well before my humble contribution. This double set is a return to headphone music. It is unabashedly challenging, the pay off coming  in the form of an aural journey which one can take repeatedly each time finding something new. Your stereo serving as passport control, the journey starts with the push of a button.

 Self Referentials Vols. 1 & 2

Trumpeter Paul Seaforth plays with “Hart & Soul” – This Friday Night in San Clemente

Friday Night July 27th 7-10pm   Paul Seaforth is very excited to be making some very fine Jazz Music with . . . “Hart and Soul” vocalist Jennifer Hart and pianist Llew Matthews and drummer Shep Shepherd at Adele’s Restaurant  at the San Clemente Inn! Where To Find Adele’s Adele’s Café at the San Clemente Inn  2600 Avenida Del Presidente San Clemente, CA 92672 949-481-1222

Happening Now & Yesterday: Daniel McBrearty

To the casual listener and in the broadest sense, the different eras of jazz always seem to have had an instrument or two which served as a sort of “face” for it. Hot Jazz called to mind the raucous trumpet dynamism of people like Louis Armstrong, Bunny Berigan, Bunk Johnson and Bix Beiderbecke. Hot Jazz gave way to swing, which fed many of its star improvisers into it while morphing into big band. These two closely linked genres also had their share of star soloists playing s diversity of instruments but with not necessarily an instrument but instead the musician/bandleader’s persona coming immediately to mind (Cab Calloway, Chick Webb, Jimmy Lucenford et al). The 1950’s & 60’s when jazz was perhaps showing exactly how protean a medium it was, saw the emergence of the saxophone hero and keyboard virtuoso both of which had previously existed in past eras but never to such a high degree. From when jazz was still spelled with double “s” there was always the presence of the clarinet.

This instrument whether immediately up front or as part of a (big) band makes a perfect marriage with an art form one of whose appeal is that it is ever in flux. One reason is how close to a voice having a conversation it can sound. It sets the mood with if not the cadence of the teller than the atmosphere of the place. It can be bluesy, offering up indigos of “might have been” or loss of what was. It can be more cerebral giving avant-garde complexity or discordance. Or it can be outright beautiful, making one smile at both what is being said and in what a tone. Of course all of this can be said about many of the instruments which have been with jazz from day one. With some though, their roles changed, became more important than merely supplying a beat or bottom. Others did not begin to sing their own song outside of the body of the group until the music was well on its way. Clarinet has been there since day one with great soloists not dominating any specific era but always included in it.

Now based in Belgium, Welsh Clarinetist Daniel McBrearty has a new album out titled Clarinet Swing. Overall the album has some of the warmest sonics I have heard in a long time akin to a listening on vinyl effect. The album features a trio which eschews a drummer in favor of the subtly percussive effects of the piano.

“Poor Butterfly” (1917) is a standard which has been covered memorably many times. It was inspired by Giacomo Puccini’s Madame Butterfly (1904) and even briefly quotes the duet in the vocal version’s verses from act twos duet “Tutti I Fior”. One of the song’s reasons for remaining endearing to musicians is its inherent ability to be done in varying ways and not have an interpretation sound emotionally “off”. Here the song’s tempo is taken at a comfortable stroll. In Daniel’s hands it is bluesy but more in the vein of a missed last call connection than the fatality of silk blindfolds and cherry blossoms. Daniel’s playing is precise but loose which prevents this from ever feeling like a studied exercise in yesteryear nostalgia.

“Jitterbug Waltz” the perennial waltz timed standard by Fats Waller, is done beautifully casual. Made up of pre-bop standards and some originals, the album overall is inspired by another time but never gets bogged down in being merely an exacting recreation. Jazz is about the songs but even those when done by their authors varied in performance according to how they felt and where they were playing and with whom. This fluidity allowed for a piece to not lose its identity while still giving forth fresh enjoyments.  This album offers a glimpse at another age but never lets a feeling of detachment enter in; as can happen when listening to an older recording or one that strives to be too meticulously mirroring its ancestors. Pianist Dirk Van der Linden is a perfect fit for this project. Even when one listens to a great such as Teddy Wilson playing with clarinetist Benny Goodman, there was, despite his immense abilities never the distraction of always filling in the empty spaces with virtuosic notes or runs. One of the things which made someone like Teddy Wilson great was his overall tastefulness in what he played. There are plenty of great pianists playing older standards and even in the same cadence as they originally appeared but the temptation for a pianist to relentlessly show what they are made of sometimes proves too great. Throughout the album Dirk takes solos which show what a great ivory tickler he is but as enjoyable as his solos are it is his overall tastefulness, knowing exactly the right amount to add to each piece which bolsters many of the pieces.

“Vikanda” is one of the album’s original tunes. It was named for a friend of Daniels who passed away. The song has a bittersweet air but is never overly maudlin. Jean Van Lint’s bass is all contemplative richness in this piece. He has a nice solo break in the piece which exudes an air of nostalgia not for a time or place but a person, vividly remembered and with a different face for each of us. The bass is the burnished richness of the perfect bar to which one would always desire to return to while the tone most often of the clarinet has a woodiness that is the perfect pour of bourbon to rest upon it.

“Body and Soul” is tackled, as some connoisseurs may feel that this song is owned by Coleman Hawkins or Billy Holiday it is a bold move to attempt. Smartly, Daniel notes in the liner notes;

“With such a known tune it is hard to say something new…”

And here it is offered up, a straight reading of the song which shows the great interplay among the trio. It is the equivalent of getting a familiar dish at a restaurant, not deconstructed or reimagined but just as it was initially conceived and spot on.

The CD comes in standard packaging with brief liner notes describing each song. Just as a good chef knows the mantra that one eats with one’s eyes first so too can it be with CDs. The cover art is fun with graphics and font the recall the heyday of jazz’s cultural pre-rock importance.

For More information on Daniel:

http://www.danmcb.com/

*This article is not to be used or reprinted without the expressed permission of Maxwell A. Chandler (maxwellachandler@aol.com)

A Mosaic of Daydreams: Alexander Berne & The Abandoned Orchestra

For the approaching New Year, a friend of mine was cleaning her home office. She had books which she had read but were not worth keeping and there was also one entire shelf of them from her last job that a boss who thought he was wired into some sort of business Rosetta Stone required his team to read; hokey titles which claimed to offer leadership secrets of everybody from Attila The Hun to Napoleon. It was all very much the zeitgeist of the mid 90’s to early 2000’s. It conjures up remembrances of bosses who were pricks and conference rooms with foosball tables. Equally as prevalent at this time was the myth of multi-tasking, management excitedly piling “to do” things atop their staff while bug eyed and chanting the mantra of “just multi-task it”. The method has long since proven faulty, several things being done at once, none of them well or necessarily right but from those times of the myth of multi-tasking remains a sort of shortened attention span.

Speaking in broad generalities for there are exceptions to every rule, this has spilled over into the arts, with films which emphasize technological flash over substance, popular novels entirely about (semi) classic characters created by other authors and sadly, music. With music the manifestation of short attention span is there but subtler. There are still the aficionados and enthusiasts but gone are the days of people or individuals just sitting and listening to music. Now music is in the background for dinner parties, driving et al; always in the movie of our lives but negated to merely a soundtrack far ever from the main focus.

Multi-instrumentalist Alexander Berne sprang up in the New York scene working with a diverse cross section of musicians including Cecil Taylor, Victor Lewis to Albert “Tootie” Heath. His new double album Flickers of Mime & Death of Memes is a throwback to the golden age of the headphone albums. It is a densely layered work of art which demands one’s full attention to be fully appreciated and understood; on the same levels both viscerally and cerebrally as works by The Second Viennese School (Arnold Schoenberg 1874-1951, Anton Webern 1883-1945, Alban Berg 1885-1935) and other artists whose works have encompassed the dichotomy of electrically charged jump of sparks between mind and emotion; though with the comparisons that is not to say that he has utilized their method of compositions.

From his jazz beginnings Alexander would go on to study Tabla and Indian classical music with Misha Masud and others. He would also embrace multi sources of inspiration from more than just musical genres. From the mid 1990’s until 2008 he would work on film production and visual arts even inventing a new form of painting that combined photo emulsion and acrylics. This has leant his work a cinematic air in the truest sense of the word. Often a descriptive shorthand for not a change of emotional cadence but merely in a work’s volume or number of voices being heard at any given time. Alexander’s latest, with its emotional gears ever in flux, is an example of true aural cinematics, a journey not necessarily of distance but atmosphere.

On New Years of 2007 while in Italy, Alexander decided to free the music in his head, executing every aspect of it himself, following his own rules which allowed for greater possibilities as there were none of the confines of music/studio orthodoxy.

As I sat to give my first listen I purposely held off on reading the liner notes and anything about the work. It can be an interesting exercise, seeing if an artist’s intent matches up to how it makes one feel, especially with music. The work (s) form a sort of programmatic tone poem for the 21st century loosely revolving around a mime (in my mind closer to Pierrot and the classic European Commedia dell’Arte) working his magic in a small theater. One can enjoy the work while having no idea of the program, not necessarily the subject but the sense of mystery comes clearly through.

The very start of the piece, there is the sense of something emerging from the primordial ooze or a thick curtain of fog, out from behind this curtain steps the entertainer. Alexander has invented new instruments, utilized for this album which draw from the DNA of Asian, Arabic and American reed instruments. There are parts where the voice of a specific instrument can be heard but even as it seems to offer a recognizable cadence it morphs into something else, perfect kinship to the voices and sounds one may hear in dreams, sometimes familiar but then changing as its source moves about the dreamscape. There are at the beginning bass organ like pulses and electro tendrils of random thoughts, perhaps birthed from the collective unconscious of the audience. While no synthesizers were used, some sounds were treated, a tinkling piano descends, kissed electronically, it stoops even lower, Dali’s dripping clocks hanging off of the branches. The Electro washes of sound which occur throughout the work avoid the mindless repetition and rise above being mere sonic filler. They show some of the intellectual potential inherent but not often utilized in the Electro-Ambient genre.

The snap of snare drums are as if the ringmaster calls attention to the next section of mystery. There is a slow undulating sense of tension, the things of reveries grafted onto the stagescape of Cirque Medrano. The music is unabashedly dense but never self-indulgent as can happen with such intricate slow shifting patterns of sound. The sound of the CDs throughout is pristine. A flute of butterflies turns sharper, its now nasal in cadence emerging from the shadows of a recessed doorway in a Tangiers marketplace. One follows these exotic strains into the zocalo. The butterflies turn into wasps, shiny black jewels dotting the various pyramids of fruit and honeyed pastries.

The snare drum brings you back to the theater, the darkness a relief from the sun and conscious thought. The silence is the razor’s edge of the crowds’ quietude, the mime conjuring up his invisible world and the tension of seeing a trick well done. It is entertainment, under the surface of which one can sense mystery and the camaraderie shared with magic and all of the other silent things of the stage.

The set comes with liner notes by Lawrence Cosentino. The CDs slip into the cardboard sleeves, a design I am not a fan of as eventually they could scratch. The sleeve itself opens photo album fashion is black with silver lettering, it feels solid and looks good. The cover image is reminiscent of a Jean Cocteau or some other Montparnassian’s drawing of someone casting a spell. This music is challenging but well worth one’s while. It is the score for daydreams tinted in dark colors and feeling like smoke in one’s hand.

For more information about Alexander Berne you can go to his website at: http://www.alexanderberne.com/

 
*This article is not to be used or reprinted without the expressed permission of Maxwell A. Chandler (maxwellachandler@aol.com)

Beats The Day: A Conversation With Guilhem Flouzat

Parisian drummer/composer Guilhem Flouzat, now residing in NYC; takes time out of his busy schedule to chat about non-musical influences on his art, why methods matter, the perceptions and realities of jazz in Europe and Stateside and how it all helps keep him on the path…following his muse.

Maxwell Chandler: Your early background was not in music but in philosophy, for which you received a degree from the Sorbonne. Have you found that not starting initially as a musician you have a slightly different take on the (artistic) field more so than someone who has made a go of it from their youth?

Guilhem Flouzat: There is a reflexive side of me which probably owes a lot to this background, and overall I like to think that my references and models come from every creative field, from philosophy to literature or Cinema. Philosophy has nurtured me as a composer but it has also been a lot of hard work to catch up with over talented musicians who have been playing their whole life! I get tremendous wisdom lessons from musicians who never did anything else.

MC: What was it that made you first turn your attention towards jazz? Do you recall a specific defining moment?

GF: My mother sent me to a summer camp when I was 15, called “Jazz Children” which basically rocked my world. It was two weeks of playing, jamming, with master classes by jazz greats and the opportunity to open for these jazz legends in the festival that closed the workshop. People like Elvin Jones, Ray Barreto and Dianne Reeves came to this festival. I have to confess that my true heroes were the teachers with whom I got to hang out! I had started playing drums a few years before but it was there that I found out about playing in a band and also the tremendous high to be on stage; sharing the music with the audience and peers…and improvising! It’s there I met Michael Valeanu, who plays guitar on my album.

MC: You come from Paris. It has often been observed that the European scene for jazz tends to be more respectful/serious in terms of cultural importance as opposed to The States, where money making pop (music) has long been king to the record companies and concert venues. Did you feel any sense of culture shock once in America, feeling perhaps that jazz has become marginalized to the non-fan?

GF:: I would say that the main difference between the States and Europe comes from the State’s policy about culture. In France, art is subsidized by the state to a much greater ex-tent than in the States; where as a jazz musician you basically have to sustain yourself. That gives jazz musicians in the US an edge as far as business is concerned, which can be noticed from very early on!

I do not feel that the connection to a broader audience is stronger in France, though. Most big jazz festivals include big names from the pop or “world music” scene, whatever that term means, and jazz is considered highbrow by most of the audience. I also really appreciate the fact that musicians in the States are more open to many musical genres, less into stylistic boundaries.

MC: There is a tradition which goes back to jazz’s nascence of the established, older players taking the younger up and coming ones under their wings, largely while on the road. You have studied under John Riley, Bill Stewart and Eric Harland in a more formalized scholastic setting. Aside from the larger acts, the tour circuits available to a jazz player are largely gone. Is a component of what kept jazz in a constant state of evolutionary flux now missing?

GF: It’s true that the economic and professional world in which jazz evolves has changed drastically. Less tours, more self promotion, Facebook and Twittering as part of your professional practice; that will certainly change the music to a great extent. Still I think that the contact with older players remains a capital part of a musician’s growth, in an informal setting. You can’t always get it with tours but sessions are easy to set up and in New York most of your musical heroes are accessible. I believe the most important part still happens outside of class! Eric Harland I met by approaching him and setting up a master class with other drummers. Most of what I learned from him was rubbing off just by being around him when he’s in the city.

MC: What non-musical things go into forming and expanding your artistic identity and how big of a factor does your physical location play into it?

GF: The more I walk this path of music, the more I get the feeling that there can’t be a separation between your musical identity and who you are, what you see, experience, look for or even eat! All the artists I look up to nurture their creativity with something else than pure music: Wayne Shorter with movies, Herbie Hancock with technology, both of them with Buddhism, Eric Harland with spirituality, and I’m just naming the most obvious of their hobbies. I feed myself with books, movies, paintings, love and friendships. I feel lucky to be in New York for the overflow of esthetic information which characterizes this city and the intensity of its people. This energy and restlessness play a tremendous role in my evolution.

MC: From sideman (Tony Tixier, Nicola Sergio and Nicola Andrioli) to leading your own ensemble, do you find one affords you more freedom in your playing?

GF: I do not experience such a great difference as a player, perhaps a greater sense of responsibility when I’m leading but the objective remains to serve the music and help the players soar. If freedom is to be found, it has to be together! That can happen in both set-tings.

MC: One Way or Another is your new album. It is comprised of all original material. Duke Ellington, for example used to write for specific members of his band when working on a piece. Listening to the tightness of this album one gets a similar impression.

GF: Thanks! I actually have a very hard time writing pieces that are not specifically for certain players. Almost the entire album was written thinking about these players because they are strong personal and musical influences for me. As a leader, I wanted to leave as much room as possible for their universes within mine; my ears were wide open for their suggestions. The last thing I wanted was for the music to be mine only! Ellington takes this to stratospheric levels! One of the projects I have is to write a series of pieces as a gallery of portraits of the musicians I live and play with, based on their language.

MC: Were any of the pieces road tested before going into the studio? Is doing such a thing a help or hindrance to keeping a degree of spontaneity within the piece?

GF: To my regret, all the music was rehearsed right before the recording, and I’m only road testing it now! The creativity and excellence of these players helped them get into the music instantaneously and I have been playing with some of them for my whole musical life. There definitely was a chemistry in the studio but I’m still finding things out about these pieces! I think road testing can only be a good thing.

MC: Have you found that any of the pieces have gone through a sort of sea change in their journey from studio to stage or vice versa?

GF: Most of the pieces are pretty carefully articulated. They have kept their shape for the most part but I’m starting to have more fun with them because I do not play them with the same people in France as in the States. There’s a lot that can change within them! Tunes are a little like people, they sometimes reveal themselves to you as time goes by. If not the structure or the harmony then the energy of some of these tunes has evolved.

MC: Do you feel that live, your work must be heard in a sort of site specific environment (i.e. only clubs, theaters et al)?

GF: I’ve experienced playing this music mostly in clubs but I dream of playing it in movie theaters, in greater sized halls. It does take a certain kind of focused listening to delve into it but I’ve seen people enjoy it loudly at happy hour! I’m striving to create music that will touch people anywhere it’s played but the fact that I’m a “jazz musician” kind of narrows it down for now! I have a project of creating a movie-concert, where we perform over images, which allows me to perform outside of jazz clubs

MC: When writing or arranging a piece is a future performance venue given any thought?

GF: Not really, my focus is primarily on the musicians who will play it. It would be a great experience to write music for a specific place though!

MC: The flavor of your work sort of straddles a number of genres while also adding your own thing to the mix. How important if at all is it to try to categorize your work’s genre?

GF: I’m still constantly finding out about musical genres these days and I remember with delight having to pick from the numerous genres that Myspace offered to define my mu-sic. Ukulele, hard rock, Transprogressive, Neowave… I think genres are meant to help listeners find their way but they don’t mean much if anything at all to the music itself.

I listen to basically anything that triggers an emotion within me. More than categorizing my work, I’m trying to link it to other forms of art; to give for instance a few images to the audience before I play a piece, to help trigger the imagination, or to explain the source of a tune. I call that “cinematic” and I’m sure somebody else before me already came up with that idea!

MC: I think regardless of the medium, everyone has a sort of romanticized vision of what life as an artist would be like. What was the biggest surprise you faced?

GF: To find out that to be a musician today one has to be even more organized and business oriented than for most office jobs!

MC: Thank you for your time.

For more information about Guilhem Flouzat’s music you can go to his website at: http://guilhemflouzat.com/

*This article is not to be used or reprinted without the expressed permission of Maxwell A. Chandler