Secret Society

TV on the Radio @ McCarren Park Pool - 30 July 2007

TV on the Radio make records full of densely layered vocals, savagely untamed guitar sounds, and almost impenetrably thick sonic constructs. This is not the kind of sound that can be reproduced live (at least, not without relying heavily on prerecorded samples), but the band compensates for the absence of studio wizardry by rocking really fucking hard.

The Gerard Smith (bass) - Jaleel Bunton (drums) back line is fierce. Where the grooves on the recordings have a kind of studied abstract sloppiness to them, at yesterday's free show at McCarren Pool, everything was stripped down and locked in tight. Hearing the straight sound of frontman Tunde Adebimpe's vocals without the studio multitracking effects makes you appreciate what a great singer he really is. Same goes for Kyp Malone, whose falsetto backing vocals on record are kind of nasal, but live are pure and sweet, even a bit Curtis Mayfield-y. The rainy-day crowd sang along with almost every word.

TV on the Radio represent everything that is good and right about the Brooklyn indie scene from which they emerged -- they are restlessly experimental but grounded in irresistible melodies. They draw on a staggering variety of influences, but they blend them all so skillfully that the individual ingredients of their sound are barely recognizable -- it just sounds like them, and they don't really sound like anything else. They manage to appeal both to devoted indie rock hipsters and those whose primary musical interests lie elsewhere. Their music is abstract and artsy but genuinely connects to people on a visceral level. And, as I believe I mentioned, they rock really fucking hard.

This hit was one of those rare shows that made me feel good about the time and place I'm living in.

Photos below the fold...

Truer words were never spoke

No One Sets Out To Be A Smooth Jazz Musician

Look, I'm not going to lie to you. Nobody ever just woke up one morning and thought, "Of all the things possible in the vastness that is life, what I'd really like to do is play smooth jazz 250 nights a year." It just doesn't work that way.

It's not something you can plan for—it's all circumstance, I swear: You want to play music for a living. You bust your ass paying your dues in tiny clubs with six people in the audience. You think about all the talented jazz musicians out there who can't make ends meet and you start to worry. The next thing you know, your agent has you filling out forms to legally change your name from Mel Jablonsky to Michael Langello, and it's seeming like a good idea. Then suddenly you're 40 years old and you open up your dresser drawer to find nothing but linen pants.

There are a few stumbles -- for instance, never in the entire history of school band programs has the alto sax ever been "the only instrument left." (More typically, school bands have, like, at least a dozen alto sax players and no one willing to even try the bassoon.) And like any other musical endeavor, smooth jazz isn't actually all that lucrative, except for a tiny handful of inexplicable superstars. "$6,000 to $14,000 a night"? Dude, where do I sign?

On the other hand -- "'I'd like you to meet my very good friend, Chuck Mangione'"? Priceless.

Read the whole thing.

As serious as your life

Trust Kyle Gann to perceive a link between two seemingly unrelated groups of self-described "Very Serious People" -- insufferable Beltway wankers like Time's Joe Klein (AKA "Joke Line" -- oh, I'm sorry, was that insufficiently serious?) and insufferable serialist fundamentalists:

The thing I love about it is, of course, that "serious" has also long been the word that High Modernist composers use to distinguish themselves from composers who try to appeal to the audience, who think about accessibility, who are influenced by pop music, who don't build up dramatic climaxes, who appreciate Erik Satie and Virgil Thomson, who don't try to impress each other with the sophistication of their techniques. "Serious" is a condescending but tolerant-seeming word that connotes, well, yes, these postminimalists are composers too, and amateurs may find in them a certain entertainment value, but we must not forget, of course, who the really serious composers are.

Read the whole thing.

With a sky blue sky this rotten time wouldn't seem so bad to me now

I got mine. Did you get yours? In the unlikely event that you read this blog but did not order this record, well, I don't really know what to tell you...

There's a "Recording of Sky Blue" booklet that comes with the limited edition (free for those who preordered, a bit more coin for the stragglers). This is my first look at it. It is beautifully designed, with 40 pages of behind-the-scenes recording session photos taken by David Korchin and, ah, yrs trly. I can't tell you how pleased I am to have contributed in some small way to this amazing album.

Actually, yes I can. If you'll kindly allow me to geek out for a moment:

Dude! My name is in the credits for a frickin' Maria Schneider record!

Thank you. As you were.

Mark my words, mark your calendar

Rejoice, comrades, for our summer hiatus will be coming to an end on Thursday, October 4, when we return to the Jazz Gallery for Round 2. Details to come, but rest assured that this hit brings not only the return of your favorite co-conspirators, but also the official unveiling of some spiffy new music.

Seafever

Doug Ramsey of Rifftides, in "Simple Answers to Simple Questions":

When I arrived home after a post-concert hang late Saturday night, I found this message from a musician friend:

Has there ever been a better concert at the Seasons than the Ingrid Jensen one this evening?

No.

There's more, of course, but you should go read it over at Doug's place.

Matt Shulman @ Jazz Standard

Occasional Society co-conspirator Matt Shulman is playing Jazz Standard tonight and tomorrow -- this is the official NYC launch for his newish disc So It Goes. I wrote about Matt's trio (which includes Society co-conspirator Matt Clohesy on bass and Jason Wildman on drums) back in December when they played Union Hall -- his unlikely blend of intimate singer-songwriter vulnerability and acrobatic nu-jazz swagger is something to behold.

Tuesday July 23 and Wednesday July 24 - two sets each night (7:30 PM & 9:30 PM). $20 cover.

Once I was a hollow man

I'm off to Boston for the weekend, but let me leave you with some fine, fine P-Funk, circa 1976:

That's Glen Goins bringing in the Mothership, in one of the greatest vocal performances I've ever seen captured on film. (Be patient -- he's only really allowed enough room to work in the last four minutes of the clip.) Goins died of Hodgkin's Lymphoma less than two years after this was filmed. He was 23.

This entire hit is available on DVD.

I walk on gilded splinters

Oh, yes, by all means let's celebrate the modern-day resurgence of the robber barons and backroom trusts and colonial pillagers and union-busters of the Gilded Age. And let us all praise them as great philanthropists and humanists so long as they toss the occasional coin towards their inferiors. Smashing, simply smashing.

His achievement required political clout, and that, too, is on display. Soon after he formed Citigroup, Congress repealed a Depression-era law that prohibited goliaths like the one Mr. Weill had just put together anyway, combining commercial and investment banking, insurance and stock brokerage operations. A trophy from the victory — a pen that President Bill Clinton used to sign the repeal — hangs, framed, near the magazine covers.

[...]

Only twice before over the last century has 5 percent of the national income gone to families in the upper one-one-hundredth of a percent of the income distribution — currently, the almost 15,000 families with incomes of $9.5 million or more a year, according to an analysis of tax returns by the economists Emmanuel Saez at the University of California, Berkeley and Thomas Piketty at the Paris School of Economics.

[...]

Other very wealthy men in the new Gilded Age talk of themselves as having a flair for business not unlike Derek Jeter’s “unique talent” for baseball, as Leo J. Hindery Jr. put it. “I think there are people, including myself at certain times in my career,” Mr. Hindery said, “who because of their uniqueness warrant whatever the market will bear.”

Huzzah huzzah. Pink gins all around.

(Also, Derek Jeter? Really?)

UPDATE: Okay, let me be even more explicit. Sanford ("Sandy") Weill, who is prominently featured in the article (including photo and interview clips)... the Sandy Weill of the "Joan and Sanford I. Weill Recital Hall," who is the Chairman of Carnegie Hall's Board of Trustees and was "honored at a huge fund-raising party that Carnegie Hall gave on his 70th birthday"... the Sandy Weill who proclaims "We didn’t rely on somebody else to build what we built, and we shouldn’t rely on somebody else to provide all the services our society needs"... that same Sandy Weill led Citigroup into a notoriously scandal-ridden period from which they have yet to fully emerge. He was up to his neck in the Enron, WorldCom, and Global Crossing shenanigans (as tig points out in comments, they had to pay a $120 million SEC settlement for helping Enron commit fraud), and that's just the tip of the iceberg. Of course, this part of the story goes completely unmentioned in the Times piece.

That BBC piece also has a quote from Amey Stone, who co-authored this (largely uncritical) biography of Sandy Weill:

"[Mr Weill] was very hands on and a very controlling manager who oversaw a lot of operations," she says. "He did have an aggressive style, he emphasised profits, he was very strict about divisions delivering profit goals. I think questions of ethics really took a back seat."

See also Chris Sullentrop's 2002 piece in Slate.

Let's go parking, baby

Seriously, what the fuck am I even doing in this city? I'd really like to know.

For Parking Space, the Price Is Right at $225,000 (NYT)

“At first, I was getting overwhelmed and didn’t want to spend the money,” Ms. Habberstad said. “I’m kicking myself now, believe me.”

She and her three children, ages 7, 9 and 11, live on Long Island, but the children’s modeling schedules bring them into the city at least twice a week, and the apartment they bought in the building will be a pied-à-terre.

“If we’re coming in late from dinner or we have a lot of stuff in the car, do we really want to have to walk a few blocks to get home?” Ms. Habberstad said. “It all makes sense now that I don’t have it.”

Noche Flamenca, Andrew J. Nemr & CPD Plus, Darrah Carr Dance @ Prospect Park Celebrate Brooklyn

I don't really get dance as an art form. It never seems to click for me. Granted, I've seen very, very little of it live, but my attempts to watch classic ballets on video have all left me very much of the same mind as David Byrne. So there's little chance I would have intentionally gone to see the triple-bill of "percussive dance" (i.e., dancing with lots of stomping) at Prospect Park last night, but since I evidently can't read, I ended up in the park and decided to give it a go.

First up was Darrah Carr Dance, which I'm sure to educated dance audiences comes off as something more interesting than Riverdance minus the slick production values. They kept the artificial perkiness and that godawful canned synth-Celt music, though, so I don't think there is any possible way I could have enjoyed this, regardless of how skilled the dancers may have been.

My expectations were not much higher for the tap troupe of Andrew J. Nemr & CPD Plus because... well, you know... it's, ah, tap dancing. But their casually stylized, kind of quaintly streetwise movements (if that makes sense) were not nearly as silly as I thought they'd be, and the dancers really sold it -- especially that young kid from Jersey. The physicality was great and the tapped rhythms were impressively tight, but also pretty predictable. (I almost said "pedestrian.") There was one (wholly unexpected) exception -- "Freedom Jazz Dance," which, after the head, turned into an improvised duet between Nemr and the troupe's trumpet player (whose name I didn't catch). I say this fully cognizant of the fact that you will never, ever believe me when I tell you that someone tap dancing to "Freedom Jazz Dance" was actually good. But it was. Unfortunately, their closer was "We Didn't Start The Fire." Is there a worse tune in the entire Billy Joel oevre? If there is, I'd very much appreciate it if you would kindly refrain from letting me know about it.

I might have left the park as soon as I realized I wouldn't be seeing Robert Glasper and DJ Logic, but I was intrigued by the possibility of experiencing a real Spanish flamenco company live and in the flesh. Noche Flamenca did not disappoint. They made the other two groups look irredeemably silly, in no small part because all the music was (A) played live (by two guitarists and two singers), and (B) unbelievably killing. Actually, this was one of the most riveting performances I've ever seen -- solemn but smoldering, virtuosic without empty flashiness, the emotions terrifically outsized but without veering into melodrama.

Noche Flamenca are at Theater 80 until July 29, and I highly, highly recommend checking them out.

More pics below the fold...

I went out into the night, I went out to find some light

Back in NYC. Don't feel much like going out, but I guess I'll head on down to the Robert Glasper/DJ Logic hit in Prospect Park tonight. Heartfelt thanks to those who commented on Barry's passing, both in the thread below and on Lindsay's blog, and for those who sent sent supportive messages via other means.

Regular blogging will resume soon, though it may be a little thin on the ground -- between a new pops arrangement for the ASO, herding cats for Secret Society North, getting the ball rolling on my piece for the Brooklyn Phil, and designing the curriculum for the "Music Notation with Finale" class I'll be teaching at Queens College this fall, I've got a wee bit of catching up to do.

But don't fret, there will be new Secret Society hits and new Secret Society music -- alongside new Pulse projects -- sometime this fall.

UPDATE: So, uh, it turns out the Glasper/Logic hit was actually at Metrotech this afternoon. I don't know how I ended up putting them down in iCal as tonight's Prospect Park show. Anyway, since I was already sitting down by the bandshell by the time I realized my mistake, I decided to stay for Noche Flamenca et al. I'll have pics and a little writeup soon.