Secret Society

Sign up for the big band or sit in the grandstand

Like a lot of younger jazz composers who write for large ensembles, I have a bit of an ambivalent relationship to the "bigband tradition." For instance, the piece of Secret Society music that most directly draws on that vocabulary is "Lizard Brain" -- and it is in 13/4, incorporates a lot of highly dissonant, non-functional sonorities, and ends with an extended "fire in the pet store!"-type freakout (thanks to Matt Clohesy for introducing me to that descriptor). These elements coexist -- if not quite peacefully than at least in a state of uneasy détente -- with the more characteristically bigband-y gestures, like interlocking brass vs. saxes riffing and concerted shout choruses.

The thing is, there's an awful lot of bigband music that is important to the history of jazz that doesn't really do a whole lot for me. I'm afraid this would include a shit-ton of music that is beloved by true bigband connoisseurs. For instance, I know this sounds heretical, but most of Count Basie's output after Jo Jones left the group leaves me totally cold. Also, I've never really been able to develop much affection for the various Stan Kenton bands, etc, even when I respect the craftsmanship and inventiveness of some of the writing.

The stuff I like best and respond to viscerally and have invested time in studying in detail really represents only a small corner of the vast bigband universe. The center of this solar system is definitely the Thad Jones-Mel Lewis Orchestra -- especially the first edition of the group with Richard Davis on bass. This has been my favorite bigband since I was thirteen years old.

Ironically, the impetus for Thad starting his own bigband was Basie rejecting a bunch of his charts. In retrospect, this turned out to be a very good thing -- imagine how that music would have sounded with Basie's circa 1966 rhythm section, instead of Richard Davis and Mel Lewis!

In the Thad Jones/Mel Lewis orbit I would include its precursor, the Gerry Mulligan Concert Jazz Band, as well as its successors: the Mel Lewis Orchestra of the early 1980's featuring Bob Brookmeyer's compositions, today's Vanguard Jazz Orchestra (primarily the Jim McNeely works), and, out in the far reaches of this planetary system, the large ensembles led by former Brookmeyer students Maria Schneider and John Hollenbeck. (Maria's "Green Piece" was originally written for the Mel Lewis band, and Hollenbeck not only studied with Brookmeyer but plays drums in Bob's New Art Orchestra.)

Outside of this sphere, the bigband music that resonates the most with me would be the Ellington band's rich and practically inexhaustible recorded history, Gil Evans's various studio projects and his (often-dismissed) groups from the 1970's and 1980's, and the large-ensemble recordings of Charles Mingus, George Russell, and Kenny Wheeler. Also some of Django Bates's stuff for Delightful Precipice and some of Carla Bley's writing for the Liberation Music Orchestra and her own groups. More recently, I dig Guillermo Klein's Los Gauchos, Pedro Giraudo's band, Andrew D'Angelo's (as-yet-unrecorded) bigband music and -- at the risk  of getting slightly incestuous -- the large ensemble music of my Pulse colleagues and of Infernal Machines co-producer Sherisse Rogers.

The above is a bit of a delayed response to the discussion of post-1955 bigband recordings that's been going on over at Doug Ramsey's Rifftides. The jumping-off point here was composer and educator Bill Kirchner's list of Recommended Big Band CDs, 1955-Present. It's an interesting and well-considered list, but while it has sparked a fair bit of back-and-forth amongst the Rifftides commentariat -- here, here, and here -- the discussion so far has somewhat predictably but depressingly been oriented far more towards the "1955" end of the spectrum, without much consideration of what's been going on in large-scale jazz composition and performance over the past 30 years or so. This despite the fact that Kirchner's list is admirably balanced and includes many excellent recordings from the 1980's, 1990's, and 2000's.

Anyway, since we haven't done the whole list-making thing in a while, I thought it might be fun to find some additional post-1980 bigband recordings to supplement Bill's list. I'll go first, but feel free to jump in in comments.

• Mel Lewis Orchestra, Make Me Smile (1982) Brookmeyer compositions -- insanely great record, killing band (including a young Joe Lovano). Still a rarity, used vinyl or (long out of print) CD very hard to come by. Unaccountably not on iTunes.

• George Russell, The African Game (1983)

• Gil Evans Orchestra, Live at Sweet Basil, Vol. 1 (1984) Important document of Gil's somewhat surreal 1980's bigband.

• Jim McNeely, East Coast Blow Out (1994) Still my favorite of Jim's stuff.

• Django Bates & Delightful Precipice, Winter Truce (And Homes Blaze) (1995)

• John Hollenbeck Large Ensemble, A Blessing (2005)

• Guillermo Klein y Los Gauchos, Filtros (2008)

You think you've heard this one before

Is this the first time the New York Times has published an entire piece focused on a single signature drum groove? David Segal's survey of the Purdie Shuffle is full of fantastic details. The "news" hook for on the article is ostensibly Bernard Purdie joining the pit for the current revival of Hair, although it also touches on his inclusion at the heart of Kutiman's brilliant and massively popular YouTube collage, "The Mother Of All Funk Chords," which you all have surely seen by now.

There are lots of Bernard Purdie instructional videos on YouTube and they are all really entertaining (Purdie is ridiculously charismatic), and well worth investigating for any musician. If anything, non-drummers have more to learn from these clips, especially when it comes to checking out how the various elements of the Purdie Shuffle sit against each other. Remember in Ethan's Wynton interview, where he talks about the "academy of rhythm in jazz and American music." If there is an Academy of Rhythm, then Bernard Purdie must be the Dean:

Don't it always seem to go

Back before IAJE's untimely demise (the real story of which has yet to be told and probably never will), their annual conference was kind of like the jazz version of SXSW. Except way smaller, geekier, and more insular. The "deal makers and gatekeepers" (such as they are in our little corner of the music world) were there, of course, creating an atmosphere thick with schmoozing and self-promotion. (I know I certainly contributed my share of that when we played the last-ever IAJE last year.) But despite all this, there was often a lot of great music to be heard -- it's just too bad that it was always confined to hotel ballrooms and reserved for IAJE passholders exclusively. It meant that jazz's biggest annual party had no engagement with the host city, no reach beyond the conference center walls.

The contrast to SXSW, which completely takes over Austin for a week and change, could not be more extreme. There's so much genuine excitement there -- huge numbers of people actually getting caught up in the thrill of discovering new music.

SXSW also garners a truly insane amount of coverage, from new media and old. I've been enjoying the experience vicariously through my buddy Amanda Marcotte's posts, which give an Austinite's perspective on the madness:

Day One: The Day Of The Bear, Panda And Otherwise
Day Two: You Need A Girl In Your Band
Day Three: Devolution Is Real
Day Four: Spring Break For The Cool Kids

Through Amanda, I discovered The Octopus Project and I'm really loving their stuff right now. Check out this video:

For a more exhaustive take, you could do worse than the All Songs Considered podcasts, which I've been listening to over the weekend:

SXSW Preview (Carrie Brownstein's first pick, from The Entrance Band, is killing).
Wednesday
Thursday
Friday
Saturday

UPDATE: Of course, not everything in SXSW-land is sunshine and power chords:

Some of you may have heard about this "secret" show that Metallica played at Stubb's Friday night. Or the Kanye West show Saturday night at the Levis/Fader Fort. Or the Playboy-sponsored Jane's Addiction show the night before. And, I'm sure many of you wished you could have been at one or more of them.

Well, I have a question for you: What the hell is your problem?

For all those who've forgotten, SXSW is supposed to be for unsigned bands, the place where fans and industry types go to discover new talent. Having a platinum-selling band like Metallica play a show in support of their new version of Guitar Hero isn't just a distraction, it's downright offensive.

Pete's not wrong, but that is yet another reminder how inadequate the IAJE Conference was -- the idea that there could be a large industry-oriented annual festival that was even ostensibly devoted to the discovery of unknown jazz artists seems pretty far out. To an optimist, the gap left by IAJE's implosion might look like an opportunity to build something better in its place. But I don't get the sense that there are a lot of optimists out there right now.

Arrival, departure, and, very soon after

So the other thing that is happening is that I've been invited to to go Frankfurt from April 19 to April 25 to rehearse and record some of my music with the HR Bigband. The recording will be broadcast (and, I think, webcast) on HR radio later in the year. I have heard great things about this group and am really looking forward to working with them.

Many thangs is on my mind, words in the way

Recently I've been fortunate enough to have received support from the following organizations, and I'd like to give them a public shout-out:

The Canada Council for the Arts approved my application to the "Grants to Professional Musicians (Individuals) - Non-Classical Music Program," which has that snappy, rolls-off-the-tongue quality for which Canadian federal agencies are renowned. They are funding future compositional activities and study with Derek Bermel, which I am very excited about.

The Canada Council likes it when you put their logo on stuff so here it is:

 

Meet The Composer is supporting our May 8 record release hit at Galapagos and our June 5 appearance in Philadelphia via a MetLife Creative Connections Grant.

Meet The Composer also likes it when people look at their logo:

The American Music Center helped fund the premieres of "Jacobin Club" and "Obsidian Flow" at the Jazz Gallery on Dec. 12. We also recorded these tunes at the Infernal Machines sessions so you'll be able to hear them when the record comes out (May 12).

The AMC expressed no logo-related preferences. But:

I am honored and grateful. The above organizations are all in there fighting the good fight, and I am very appreciative of their support.

In Europe and America there's a growing feeling of hysteria

The Society has some upcoming engagements to announce.

On May 8, we will be kicking off New Amsterdam's Undiscovered Islands, a month-long new festival at Galapagos Arts Space. This is also the official pre-release show for Infernal Machines -- the record goes on sale May 12, but you can pick up an advance copy at this May 8 hit.

On May 14, I will be appearing at the National Jazz Awards at the Flex Theatre in Toronto, premiering a newly-commissioned work with an all-star Canadian band and accepting the SOCAN/CAJE Phil Nimmons Emerging Composer Award.

On May 28, the Society makes its European debut, performing at the Bimhuis in Amsterdam.

On May 29, we will be appearing at Domicil in Dortmund, Germany. 

On May 31, we will be appearing at the Moers Festival, on a bill with The Black Napkins, Colin Stetson, Guillermo Klein y Los Gauchos, Timucin Sahin, and Rokia Traoré.

On June 5, we are playing the International House in Philadelphia, as part of the Ars Nova Workhop series.

Extracurricularly: Pulse and Joy Askew are presenting our Songs From The Hudson River project at Roulette this Sunday, March 22. If you missed the hit at Barbès, we will be reprising those songs and featuring some of Joy's own work as well.  

The News (A Wholly Owned Subsidiary of Microsoft Inc.)

I don't know why it continues to amaze me that most establishment media figures still do not get the point of The Daily Show. But it does. They all seem to think it's a show that takes a satirical look at events in the day's news. But it's not. It's a show satirizing them, the American news media -- i.e., the people responsible for the godawful state of American journalism over the past couple of decades. And it's not toothless, collegial, just-kidding humor. It is merciless and completely on-point. It's popular not just because it's funny, but because it's the only show calling out the American news media on their bullshit, night after night.

The reason Jon Stewart's interview with Jim Cramer is causing such a stir is because it's a potent reminder of exactly the kind of journalism we've been missing. Stewart is both telling Cramer -- and by extension, everyone in the American news media -- to do thier motherfucking job, but also showing them how their job is actually supposed to be done:

The Daily Show With Jon StewartM - Th 11p / 10c

Jim Cramer Unedited Interview Pt. 1

Daily Show Full Episodes
Important Things w/ Demetri Martin

Political Humor
Jim Cramer

The Daily Show With Jon StewartM - Th 11p / 10c

Jim Cramer Unedited Interview Pt. 2

Daily Show Full Episodes
Important Things w/ Demetri Martin

Political Humor
Jim Cramer

The Daily Show With Jon StewartM - Th 11p / 10c

Jim Cramer Unedited Interview Pt. 3

Daily Show Full Episodes
Important Things w/ Demetri Martin

Political Humor
Jim Cramer

UPDATE: Minstrel Boy at the Group News Blog brings the Jacobin perspective.

Of our elaborate plans, the end

85 days after our first recording session, and after a crazymaking number of all-nighters -- including last night's 7 PM to 9 AM mastering marathon -- Infernal Machines is now finished. 

Huge shout-out to our literally tireless mixing engineer Paul Cox, and also to Randy Merrill at Masterdisk, who in my humble opinion fucking nailed it.

"Street" date is May 12 -- meaning for all practical purposes, that's when you'll be able to place your order at www.newamsterdamrecords.com. But when you order the physical CD you will also get instant access to the MP3 downloads, so there is no problem satisfying your fetish for instant gratification and your fetish for beautiful objects. You will also be able to pick up an advance copy at our CD release show at Galapagos on May 8.

I say this a lot, but it's important: everyone should know that this album would not sound remotely as good as it does without the support of the people who contributed to our recording fund. You guys gave us the freedom to do things right, which is a luxury few independent artists can afford. I hope you will be as pleased with the results as I am.

Cover me through the fire

Designed by Travis Williams.

It doesn't hurt when it begins

There have been many fine tributes to David Foster Wallace and some very good accounts of the circumstances leading up to his suicide, but this one, by D.T. Max in the current issue of the New Yorker, is the only one that made me weep. 

It's really too good to excerpt -- the whole thing hits me right where I live. But here are a couple of telling grafs from near the beginning:

The sadness over Wallace’s death was also connected to a feeling that, for all his outpouring of words, he died with his work incomplete. Wallace, at least, never felt that he had hit his target. His goal had been to show readers how to live a fulfilled, meaningful life. “Fiction’s about what it is to be a fucking human being,” he once said. Good writing should help readers to “become less alone inside.” Wallace’s desire to write “morally passionate, passionately moral fiction,” as he put it in a 1996 essay on Dostoyevsky, presented him with a number of problems. For one thing, he did not feel comfortable with any of the dominant literary styles. He could not be a realist. The approach was “too familiar and anesthetic,” he once explained. Anything comforting put him on guard. “It seems important to find ways of reminding ourselves that most ‘familiarity’ is meditated and delusive,” he said in a long 1991 interview with Larry McCaffery, an English professor at San Diego State. The default for Wallace would have been irony—the prevailing tone of his generation. But, as Wallace saw it, irony could critique but it couldn’t nourish or redeem. He told McCaffery, “Look, man, we’d probably most of us agree that these are dark times, and stupid ones, but do we need fiction that does nothing but dramatize how dark and stupid everything is?”

So Wallace’s project required him to invent a language and a stance of his own. “I want to author things that both restructure worlds and make living people feel stuff,” he wrote to his editor Michael Pietsch while he was working on his second novel, “Infinite Jest,” which Little, Brown published in 1996. He knew that such proclamations made him seem a holy fool. In the interview with McCaffery, he said, “It seems like the big distinction between good art and so-so art lies . . . in be[ing] willing to sort of die in order to move the reader, somehow. Even now I’m scared about how sappy this’ll look in print, saying this. And the effort to actually to do it, not just talk about it, requires a kind of courage I don’t seem to have yet.” He also said, “All the attention and engagement and work you need to get from the reader can’t be for your benefit; it’s got to be for hers.”

I am not one for artistic manifestos. But if I had to have one, "I want to author things that both restructure worlds and make living people feel stuff" seems like a good one.