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GUEST POST BY JOSH SINTON
Is there anything you didn’t properly explain in our last conversation?
Well, lots. Most of it I’d say.
Can you keep it to just one thing?
Hmmm, I’d have to say it’s that the methodology the band’s following is one I observed Steve using.
And that would be?
A kind of concrete materialism.
Ummm, can’t say I’m following.
Continue reading "Breath for Men to Draw From as They Will" »
As announced in this month's Secret Society News-Letter (maybe you'd like to subscribe?), scores and parts for selected tunes from the Secret Society Songbook are now available from this site -- click the new "Scores & Parts" button above, or just click here. This is obviously something we've been planning for a very long time and it's a huge relief to finally have some properly presentable sheet music available to offer.
Here's the deal:
Bill Dixon at the 2007 Vision Festival
(Photo: DJA)
I'm very honored to be able to present this tribute to the great Bill Dixon by his friend and colleague, cornetist Taylor Ho Bynum. Taylor's post on Dixon's recording November 1981 (reproduced below the fold) inspired me to check out Dixon's appearance at the 2007 Vision Festival, which I wrote about here. That performance was recorded and released by AUM Fidelity as 17 Musicians in Search of a Sound: Darfur. It's an utterly transfixing piece of music and I cannot recommend it highly enough.
— DJA
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GUEST POST BY TAYLOR HO BYNUM
Bill Dixon died in his sleep last night, at his home in Vermont. The news has spread fast, partly a testament to the strength of Bill’s legacy, and partly an example of the hyper-media age we live in, a strange contrast to the timelessness and infinite patience of his music.
I wanted to offer a short remembrance, along with posting a few recent articles I’ve written on Bill’s work: the liner notes to the recent Tapestries for Small Orchestra recording, and an appreciation upon the 25th anniversary of his November 1981 album. As my own blog is on hiatus, I thank Darcy James Argue and the Festival of New Trumpet for letting me use their platforms for my words.
— Taylor Ho Bynum
BILL DIXON, 1925-2010
June 17, 2010
I got the news at 9am this morning from Stephen Haynes, my friend, my brother in brass, and the man who introduced me to Bill a little over a decade ago. A little later in the day, I talked to Sharon Vogel, Bill’s life-partner. She has been an amazing presence in Bill’s life, loving and committed to the music and as iron-willed as the maestro. My thoughts and love to her, and there is great comfort knowing Bill’s legacy is in such strong hands.
I visited Bill just last Friday, and it was obvious this day was coming soon, but it is still hard to process. I spent a few hours by his bedside. I played him the pocket cornet I had just received as a gift from our friend Michel Cote. I read him passages from a new book, I Want To Be Ready: Improvised Dance as a Practice of Freedom, by my friend Danielle Goldman, that includes a fantastic chapter on the important and grossly under-recognized interdisciplinary partnership between Bill and dancer/choreographer Judith Dunn in the ‘60s and ‘70s. (When asked by Goldman why there is not more discussion of their collaboration, Bill offered the classic quote “The history that gets written is the history that’s permissible.” I’m glad he lived to see scholars like Goldman, Andrew Raffo Dewar, Ben Young, and others, establish the standard for a new and deeper level of documentation.)
He also quizzed me about what projects I was working on, and we discussed plans for releasing the concert recording of the performance we had done at the Victoriaville festival two weeks prior. Even in a weakened state, he was engaged in the work.
It’s hard to believe the Victoriaville concert was only three weeks ago. We had been invited to reconvene the ensemble that recorded Tapestries for Small Orchestra in the summer of 2008: Bill, Graham Haynes, Stephen Haynes, Rob Mazurek, Glynis Lomon, Michel Cote, Ken Filiano, Warren Smith, and myself. It was one of the most intense musical weekends I’ve ever experienced. Bill had composed all new music for the occasion. It was clear Bill was fighting for the strength to make it happen, and we all understood the stakes. In his life, he could be demanding, because he refused to compromise the quality of the sound he was always searching for. And he was still pushing us hard in that last rehearsal. Stephen and I quietly shared a smile when he chastised the trumpets for an unconvincing entrance; Bill was definitely still with us! He was telling stories, he was dropping wisdom in his inimitable fashion, he was challenging us to play something new. At one point he said, “You know, they might drop the bomb tomorrow, and this will be the last concert for all of us. Play like it matters!”
When Bill arrived at the soundcheck, after we had set-up and gotten all the basic levels, he took command of the stage. The immediate strength of his presence erased any doubts or concerns we might have had about his ability to make it through the night. The concert was powerful, Bill conducting us through the material, drawing the music out of the band. At the end, Bill took to his feet, gesturing for the brass section to reach beyond what we thought we had left in a final burst of musical intensity. After the show, Bill was full of life backstage, thanking us all for the music, receiving our profound gratitude in return.
It is so hard to lose someone like that. As a Facebook post I saw this morning said “I thought Bill would outlive the planet!” His achievements were extraordinary, as all the obituaries that will come out in the next few days will attest. His legacy is enduring, as all of us fighting for that one true sound continue the journey. And he made it through 85 years, making vibrant, beautiful, world-changing music up until the very end, and what more could you ask for.
When I said goodbye last week at his home, I told him I’d try to visit him again in a few weeks, but I knew that was unlikely. I wish I had the guts to really say goodbye, to tell him how much his music changed me, changed so many of us. To tell him I loved him and would never forget what he taught me. But I like to think he knew.
photo by Isabelle Moisan, Victoriaville, Canada, May 2010
The Jazz Journalists Association Jazz Awards sure are nice little obelisks, and at 5.5 inches tall, they are suitable for even the most cramped NYC apartments. I was fortunate enough to walk away with these two awards in my back pocket (literally) -- Large Ensemble of the Year and Up & Coming Artist of the Year.
Of course, the former really belongs to my eighteen Secret Society co-conspirators, who have invested so much sweat and toil over the years bringing my music to life. These awards are a testament to their unbelievable musicianship and dedication. It's especially meaningful given the incredibly stiff competition from the other nominated large ensembles (the Vanguard Jazz Orchestra, the Mingus Big Band, the Maria Schneider Orchestra, and the Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra).
In other news, our next gig -- June 21 -- is at a Jazz at Lincoln Center venue. So that's not awkward or anything...
Seriously, on behalf of all of the musicians in Secret Society, we are deeply humbled and grateful, and we shall endeavor to be worthy of the honor.
GUEST POST BY JOSH SINTON
STOP! If you’re sick ‘n tired of reading more words about Steve Lacy, I have a recommendation for a healthy alternative. This Sunday, June the 13th of 2010, Ideal Bread will present a musical rendition of these same ideas. You’ll be able to find us at 6:40 P.M. performing at Kenny's Castaways in the West Village of New York City as part of the Undead Jazz Festival. But if you find yourself wanting yet another pamphlet about Mr. Lacy, read on.
Consonance is the sine qua non of today’s jazz discourse. No matter how thorny/atonal/disruptive the chord or melody note, today’s jazz musicians by and large work mightily to integrate all their utterances into a seamless fabric of sound. If they don’t, then often times said musician’s product is thought to be lacking. And if it’s not the product, then the musician himself is thought to be missing some information. So it would seem from my previous post that Steve Lacy somehow missed something in his training. He didn’t demonstrate any clear knowledge of consonance in those five selections. This post will rectify any lingering doubts about his abilities with more consonant sounds.
GUEST POST BY JON WIKAN
We're in one of the poorest, most congested countries on earth. What a trip! The people are so nice you can't believe it. There is virtually no tourism. I took our bandleader Charlie out for a trip since I had been scoping the scene for a few days. I started by taking him on a little boat ride to the slum across the lake. I had been told not to go in there so what do I do? I went in full camera video and wallet and an entourage of young swimmers from the massively polluted lake. I mean we didn't ask for the extras but I guess we were interesting and they were not begging so we let them come along. It was just minutes before we met an English speaking teen who invited him to his family's pad. I knew it would be interesting and I had never been in a Bengali household or even close. Twas very cool indeed. As we walked into their estate we first saw a lady cooking outside over a fire and then there were ducks and baby ducks and then the beach littered with kids as well as garbage. Lots of fishermen, presumably relatives or neighbors. Charlie started explaining to a quickly growing crowd of people what we do while took pictures of the area. It was pretty cool as everyone had smiles on their faces yet very sobering seeing that kind of poverty first hand.
Continue reading "Jon Wikan Blog 2: Litchi Mobile - Bangladesh June 6" »
GUEST POST BY JON WIKAN
2010 New Delhi
Our flight to New Delhi was quite smooth despite a few mess
ups by Delta airlines who could not seem to handle the task of processing 10
bags that the band has to schlep halfway across the world. All together our
flights ended up being around 16 hours thanks to sitting on the runway for
several hours at the congested JFK international. Door to door including a stop
in Amsterdam I suppose it was about 21 hours. We were met by an expediter just
inside immigration, which earned us a spot in the diplomat line. Within 5
minutes we were moving on to baggage claim. Adam and Jasna’s suitcases where
both missing, however all of the gear arrived safely. The guards at customs
gave us a bit of a hassle but Charlie and I broke out some gear and played the
Indian national anthem. Nice applause and away we went no more questions asked!
Within a short while we were perched in our hotel restaurant for some
overpriced Indian food. At this point it was 1am the day after we departed JFK.
9 ½ hours ahead of New York time. Why the half hour? I have no idea but it
messed me up at first.
As predicted, my own blogging from Banff proved unpossible after the first day (I also now realize I failed to take any photos whatsoever), but check the Greenleaf Music blog for ongoing updates from the workshop's Supreme Allied Commander, Dave Douglas. My Week Two faculty cohorts and I -- Matana Roberts, Ben Monder, Myra Melford, Michael Bates, and Gerald Cleaver -- have all left the mountains and snow behind. (Snow! In late May! I know it's the town with the second-highest elevation in Canada, but seriously...) Replacing us on faculty for Week the Third is the Ravi Coltrane Quartet (with Luis Perdomo, Drew Gress, and E.J. Strickland), Mary Halvorson, and composer Giorgio Magnanensi. This lineup makes me a bit jealous of the participants who are still there -- I learned a tremendous amount from Matana, Ben, Myra, Michael, and Gerald, and I kind of wish I could have extended my stay another week to soak up a bit of what Ravi & co., Mary, and Giorgio have to offer.
The Banff schedule is not for the faint-hearted or the poorly-caffeinated. For me, a big part of the appeal of the "musician lifestyle" is that you don't have to be up at 7 AM every morning. But in Banff, the Composers Workshop hits at 8 AM sharp. Participants would come in, somewhat bleary-eyed, pass out copies of their freshly-minted tunes, and perform them for an all-star panel of celebrity judges -- viz. Michael Bates and yrs truly. (Simon Cowell sends his regrets.) Composing is such a personal thing, and tampering with someone else's tune is always a bit fraught, but I think Michael and I were able to constructively suggest some alternate possibilities and directions in the music that the composers had not previously considered.
I gave a couple more workshops for the group, one a live-action Composition Vivisection of "Zeno" (I haven't abandoned the blog-based version... it will continue soon, I promise). The other session began with an introduction to Bob Brookmeyer's infamous White Note Piece excercise. This is something Brookmeyer assigns to all of his students. The instructions are incredibly simple: write an extended (ideally 64 bars or more), coherent melody -- i.e., one with a definite beginning, middle, and end -- using only the white notes on the piano from middle C to the C the octave above. 4/4 time, medium tempo, no chords -- just a C pedal. I had a trio come up and play a few of the participant-written White Note Pieces for the group. It's always amazing to me how different each one sounds, and how revealing they are.
Of course, given Josh's previous post and recent blogosphere/Twittersphere comments about dissonance and chromaticism, the use of the White Note Piece as a learning tool suddenly feels rather controversial! That's a can of worms I'd rather not open right now, except to mention:
After hearing the participant-written White Note Pieces, I switched gears to demonstrate a few possible transformational techniques (transposition, inversion, retrograde, pitch/rhythm rotation, displacement, augmentation/diminution, construction/deconstruction, etc etc etc.), all applied to this familiar white-note melody:
Incidentally, the composer of this line isn't who you think it is (check out from 1:13). Thanks to Dave Douglas for tipping me off. Especially in light of the recent centennial, I really need to check out the bio.
My primary responsibility at Banff, though, was leading the bigband. We had five rehearsals to prepare about 80 minutes of not-at-all easy music: "Zeno," "Obsidian Flow," "Transit" and "Drift," plus Dave's "The Presidents" (from A Single Sky), and three participant-written tunes -- including a hot-off-the presses premiere of Johannes Luebbers' "Give Me Coffee." (I believe this chart was started on Monday and completed in the wee small hours of Friday AM.) I also realized that the first-ever public performance of my own bigband music actually took place in Banff, back when I was a participant there in 1998, so it felt good to be able to provide the composers in the group an outlet for their own large-ensemble urges.
I will, however, cop to a certain amount of trepidation after the first rehearsal -- as previously mentioned, we just barely managed to struggle through two tunes -- but the group really went all-out for the rest of the week, to the point of sacrificing a big chunk of their dinner break so we could have an additional hour of rehearsal every day. I'm enormously grateful to everyone who worked so hard to make the music come together. It was also great fun to add vibraphone (Katie Rife) and voice (Jihye Kim) to my usual sound palette.
Michael Bates (who is also a former participant) and I were both amazed at the seriousness and drive of the participants this year -- everyone was working way harder than we ever did when we were there as students. The kids were powering straight on from those 8 AM Composers Workshops through the morning and afternoon workshops to the late-afternoon ensemble rehearsals to the evening club sets to Myra Melford's midnight "Cobra" sessions (as in the John Zorn game-piece, "Cobra"). Then they'd wake up bright and early the next day to do it all over again. It was impossible not to be invigorated and inspired. I hope I can carry some of that energy with me into my own daily routine going forward -- especially since I have an intimidatingly large amount of music to write over the summer. Speaking of which: before I left Banff, I did manage to get started on the Brookmeyer feature for Newport this year. I hope it captures something of the spirit of the place.
GUEST POST BY JOSH SINTON
"The only thing important in music, as in anything else, is life and death. Any kind of style, any kind of way is valid if it's alive. Life and interest are two things I equate...If it's alive, I'm for it. In my own case, I don't want to be put to sleep, so I don't want to put others to sleep." Steve Lacy as interviewed by Brian Case in 1979.
Dissonance is not popular among jazz musicians today, at least not in any broad sense. Think of other musics where twenty somethings are a vital audience (rock, hip hop, techno, the various metal musics, r&b and even pop to an extent) and that makes jazz an anomaly. For the most part, dissonance in jazz is either used in the traditional way (as a dynamic way of returning to consonance) or it’s softened by couching it in reverberating timbres (think of most of the ECM records of the past 25 years). Where dissonance does exist by itself, it’s often played LOUDLY and rarely does it contrast with less dissonant textures. This is where I think Steve Lacy made some pretty thoughtful (and profound) contributions. Building on the precedence of Monk (and before that Ellington, and before that James P. Johnson and contemporaneous with that Sidney Bechet), Lacy heard dissonance as a sound, a fairly compelling one and something that didn’t need much in the way of softening.
[N.B. ‘Dissonance’ is a word that gets bandied about a fair bit without any real clarity of meaning. Of course, like any frequently used word, it has a lot of meanings. For the purposes of this essay, I’m using dissonance to mean this, this or this (scroll down to “Quality” and click on Minor second, Major second, Tritone, Minor seventh or Major seventh).]
I’ve selected five of what I consider some of Lacy’s most dissonant pieces. I left plenty out, but these are pieces that range from the cryptically strange to the downright harrowing. What they all share is that they are clearly the work of an exceptionally musical mind that has as deep an understanding of dissonance and its expressive possibilities as it does consonance.
Continue reading "A Deathless Valley of Mysterious Motherhood" »
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