by Patrick Jarenwattananon
Agustin Perez of Mule Walk & Jazz Talk compiles some amazing comments about jazz from the 1920s. Including Virgil Thomson:
Jazz rhythms shakes but it won’t flow. There is no climax. It never gets anywhere emotionally. In the symphony it would either lose its character or wreck the structure. It is exactly analogous to the hoochee-coochee”
It only gets better from there. [Mule Walk & Jazz Talk: Early jazz commentators in the 1920s: some gems]
by Patrick Jarenwattananon
Ornette Coleman: still making music. (Jimmy Katz)
My boss readily admits that she doesn’t know a whole lot about jazz. But she lets me write all this nonsense on the Internet, so I’m not complaining. And at least she’s willing to learn. So every so often, she and I get together to listen to and Instant Message about a different great jazz song.
Ornette Coleman is 80 today, which is to be celebrated. It also makes for a perfect opportunity to introduce the Boss Lady to an artist whose name she’s heard, but whose music she may not have. So I sprung some vintage, 1959, Change Of The Century Ornette on her — here’s “Una Muy Bonita”:
“Una Muy Bonita,” from Ornette Coleman, Change Of The Century (Atlantic). Ornette Coleman, alto saxophone; Don Cherry, pocket trumpet; Charlie Haden, bass; Billy Higgins, drums. Hollywood, Calif: recorded Oct. 8, 1959.
Purchase: Amazon.com / Amazon MP3 / iTunes
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Boss Lady: I hear a lot of strutting!
me: Strutting?
Boss Lady: horn players showing their tail feathers. You know, you show me what you’ve got, and I’ll show you!
me: You mean like they’re battling each other or something?
Boss Lady: Not exactly, more like marking their territory.
me: Interesting. I hear a lot of cooperation. I mean, they each take long solos, where they each do these really colorful, soulful things. But to me, the opening theme sort of sets the tone. Like, we’re going to work together to create these really striking harmonies, before catapulting each other to do our respective things.
And knowing the history behind these two players, I know they’re a lot more interested in working together than peeing on their own telephone poles
Boss Lady: I was thinking Roosters in the Barnyard, but I take your point. Who are they?
me: These are Ornette Coleman on alto sax and Don Cherry on the trumpet (the pocket trumpet, muted, to be exact)
They do have a certain, very bright color to their tones and note choices — not entirely unlike barnyard fowl, I suppose
These two were sort of viewed as somewhat heretical for their time, but they were pretty confident that their concept was valid
50+ years later, history looks pretty kindly upon them
Boss Lady: Their concept? The free form back and forth? The melodic fragments on fragments?
me: Yup, pretty much. This was made in 1959.
Boss Lady: So you’re saying that it was pretty out there for 1959? I remember last year we made a big deal about all of those canonic jazz albums having come out in 1959 … ‘Kind of Blue,’ ‘Time Out,’ etc. Is this so far off?
me: I mean, to modern ears, it doesn’t seem so bad, huh? But Ornette Coleman was an intensely divisive figure when he showed up in New York in the fall of 1959. Some people, critics and musicians alike decried this as heresy. Others welcomed it as the future.
In the end, the future-ists more or less won — things that Ornette and co. do have been co-opted into modern jazz language so thoroughly, and he’s so universally hailed, that it’s hard to imagine this controversy.
Myself, I hear those saxophone cries — they’re certainly not the way they teach you to play in school, but man, are they effective
And those melodic fragments on fragments — they’re so good!
Boss Lady: Well I would say it’s definitely music that demands attention–not easy just to have on in the background. An intense, animated, purposeful exchange between two strong personalities.
me: Yea. I think it’s also to be noted that Charlie Haden and Billy Higgins, bass and drums, aren’t just along for the ride either. They really set the tone for these so-called experiments: those powerful double stops, that relaxed swing.
Boss Lady: I’m kind of embarrassed to ask this, but what is a “pocket trumpet”? Just a tinier-than-usual trumpet?
me: Precisely. Not a common instrument by any means — looks like a trumpet scrunched in a fun house mirror. But Don Cherry liked it.
He’s an important figure in the early ’60s avant-garde and beyond too, but that’s a whole ‘nother discussion.
Boss Lady: So PJ, what appeals to you most about this music?
me: For me, Ornette just comes down to killer melodies. What a perfectly askew series of riffs, a little weird, but tight. Just a feeling of “nifty” to them, their hairiness included. And, of course, the cries of the solos.
Boss Lady: I guess I’m hard-pressed to label those back-and-forths as melodies. Melodies for me have more structure–a beginning, middle and end–but then maybe I’m a sap (or I took too many classical theory courses). I do find the music evocative, and interesting as a musical snapshot of a dynamic relationship.
me: In the end, that’s all that Ornette wants: to communicate something to you in sound. Occasionally, some might even call it beautiful.
by Patrick Jarenwattananon
Ornette Coleman: change of the 4/5 of a century. (Robert Vos/AFP/Getty Images)
Ornette Coleman is 80 today. We must celebrate the fact that he’s still with us, making life-changing music. Hooray for Ornette!
Here’s a sampling of what NPR has done recently about Ornette Coleman:
–Ashley Kahn’s profile at age 76
–Farai Chideya’s interview, also a few years back
–Last year, Lars and I came up with this primer to his recordings. The tone was less than serious; the music a different story.
–Reportage from when Coleman won his Pulitzer
–Kevin Whitehead reviews the reissue of Song X
–Coleman’s Change Of The Century is discussed for NPR’s Basic Jazz Record Library
–Talking about the song “Only Once”
I quite like this lede:
Jazz musicians are kind of like street names — most people only know the big ones.
You’ve got Main, High and Bechtle, or their respective jazz equivalents Miles Davis, John Coltrane and Kenny G.
It’s a pretty astute analogy. Most people who pass through the jazz community only travel down certain main thoroughfares. But in order for there to be a vibrant community, you need all those side streets, some of which are trafficked heavily by people in the know, others which remain mostly quiet despite their distinctive architecture. They’re all important; the side streets are where people live, after all. Their existence is similar to how all those musicians who never headline festivals or appear on magazine covers are the ones populating clubs, bars, restaurants, universities and studios night after night across the world.
Anyway, those lines comes from a story from Springfield, Ohio, where some not-so-prominent but well-traveled jazz musicians from the area were recently remembered. Reedman Garvin Bushell, alto saxophonist Earle Warren (of the great Old Testament Count Basie band), vibraphonist Johnny Lytle, pianist “Sir” Charles Thompson (the nickname came from Lester Young, naturally) and the original incarnation of McKinney’s Cotton Pickers all came from Springfield. And while their stories may not be well remembered, they all intersect with major points in jazz history in ways that reveal enormous amounts about how this music works. If you don’t believe me, you can even read Bushell’s autobiography for proof. [Springfield News-Sun: Jazz spotlight shines on Springfield's legacy]
by Patrick Jarenwattananon
Eric Dolphy in 1960. (Hulton Archive/Getty Images)
It’s been nearly 50 years since a DownBeat writer called a live performance by the John Coltrane quartet (featuring Eric Dolphy) “anti-jazz.” What offended that writer so badly — basically, some relatively early stirrings of free jazz — became so widely influential that today, its techniques have been widely co-opted. Howard Mandel:
Still, the basic principles of what John Tynan had myopically called “anti-jazz” have remained in place. Most jazz musicians feel free to put jazz’s fundamental swing, blues, bebop, and ballads on a backburner, if they so desire, in order to update rhythmic material, concoct new musical structures, invent vocabulary and modes of composition, mix it up across geographic, ethnic, and aesthetic borders, and project expression that is indelibly their own. All jazz musicians — including Wynton Marsalis — do this, or claim to. Embracing an aesthetic freedom that is supported by knowledge of past practices, if not obvious employment of them, is characteristic of jazz musicians’ rhetoric now.
Mandel’s piece, in the online magazine of the Philadelphia Music Project, spends its first half providing an overview of “new thing” free jazz and its subsequent reception. The second half turns to the concert series, put on by Ars Nova Workshop in Philadelphia, called “Anti-Jazz: The New Thing Revisited.” It’s a name that turns a pejorative into something of a badge of pride: having built a name for itself as a great programmer of innovative improvisational music, Ars Nova welcomes the Art Ensemble of Chicago to town this weekend. (Note to self: make it up to Philly one of these days.) As a final note, DownBeat has liberated the archived piece where Coltrane and Dolphy respond to their name-calling critic. [PMP: Anti-Jazz: The New Thing Revisited]
by Patrick Jarenwattananon
More suggested reading we didn’t get around to mentioning:
–Willard Jenkins on Randy Weston’s Uhuru Afrika, an incredible record. (Don’t sleep on Highlife either, though.)
–The story of long-lost out-jazz reedman Giuseppi Logan is rather incredible. Peter Hum lays the basic details, including his turning up as a male model.
–The founder of the genre-crossing, way-East Village club Nublu is putting on a festival in his native Istanbul. Lineup looks pretty interesting, too.
–Darcy James Argue on the false dichotomy of improvisation vs. composition. Interesting discussion in the comments about process vs. product.
–This is about WKCR, my alma mater, so of course I’m linking to it.
–This week on The Checkout: Andy Milne and Benoit Delbecq in a two-piano concert.
And some items we did mention:
–Howard Mandel on “Anti-Jazz,” 50 years later
–Francis Davis is writing about jazz again
–Sonny Rollins, MacDowell Medalist
–A new kind of jazz film: one that doesn’t stink
Finally, bits and pieces from elsewhere at NPR Music:
–John Ellis & Double-Wide at WBGO, now alive as an NPR Music Favorite Session
–A new biography about Nina Simone
–Remembering Stacy Rowles, on Piano Jazz this week
–Remembering James Williams, on JazzSet this week
–A re-run of Lars’ and my socialite’s guide to Ornette Coleman
–Bonerama is the name of this band
–This Jazzercise-referencing piece, part of our Sweatin’ To NPR: Workout Music series, was a lot of fun to write. The cool part is that it even works if you take it seriously, too.
by Patrick Jarenwattananon
More suggested reading we didn’t get around to mentioning:
–Willard Jenkins on Randy Weston’s Uhuru Afrika, an incredible record. (Don’t sleep on Highlife either, though.)
–The story of long-lost out-jazz reedman Giuseppi Logan is rather incredible. Peter Hum lays the basic details, including his turning up as a male model.
–The founder of the genre-crossing, way-East Village club Nublu is putting on a festival in his native Istanbul. Lineup looks pretty interesting, too.
–Darcy James Argue on the false dichotomy of improvisation vs. composition. Interesting discussion in the comments about process vs. product.
–This is about WKCR, my alma mater, so of course I’m linking to it.
–This week on The Checkout: Andy Milne and Benoit Delbecq in a two-piano concert.
And some items we did mention:
–Howard Mandel on “Anti-Jazz,” 50 years later
–Francis Davis is writing about jazz again
–Sonny Rollins, MacDowell Medalist
–A new kind of jazz film: one that doesn’t stink
Finally, bits and pieces from elsewhere at NPR Music:
–John Ellis & Double-Wide at WBGO, now alive as an NPR Music Favorite Session
–A new biography about Nina Simone
–Remembering Stacy Rowles, on Piano Jazz this week
–Remembering James Williams, on JazzSet this week
–A re-run of Lars’ and my socialite’s guide to Ornette Coleman
–Bonerama is the name of this band
–This Jazzercise-referencing piece, part of our Sweatin’ To NPR: Workout Music series, was a lot of fun to write. The cool part is that it even works if you take it seriously, too.
by Patrick Jarenwattananon
Eric Dolphy in 1960. (Hulton Archive/Getty Images)
It’s been nearly 50 years since a DownBeat writer called a Village Vanguard performance by the John Coltrane quartet (featuring Eric Dolphy) “anti-jazz.” What offended that writer so badly — basically, some relatively early stirrings of free jazz — became so widely influential that today, its techniques have been widely co-opted. Howard Mandel:
Still, the basic principles of what John Tynan had myopically called “anti-jazz” have remained in place. Most jazz musicians feel free to put jazz’s fundamental swing, blues, bebop, and ballads on a backburner, if they so desire, in order to update rhythmic material, concoct new musical structures, invent vocabulary and modes of composition, mix it up across geographic, ethnic, and aesthetic borders, and project expression that is indelibly their own. All jazz musicians — including Wynton Marsalis — do this, or claim to. Embracing an aesthetic freedom that is supported by knowledge of past practices, if not obvious employment of them, is characteristic of jazz musicians’ rhetoric now.
Mandel’s piece, in the online magazine of the Philadelphia Music Project, spends its first half providing an overview of “new thing” free jazz and its subsequent reception. The second half turns to the concert series, put on by Ars Nova Workshop in Philadelphia, called “Anti-Jazz: The New Thing Revisited.” It’s a name that turns a pejorative into something of a badge of pride: having built a name for itself as a great programmer of innovative improvisational music, Ars Nova welcomes the Art Ensemble of Chicago to town this weekend. (Note to self: make it up to Philly one of these days.) As a final note, DownBeat has liberated the archived piece where Coltrane and Dolphy respond to their name-calling critic. [PMP: Anti-Jazz: The New Thing Revisited]
by Patrick Jarenwattananon
The idea behind the Brooklyn Jazz Underground isn’t a new one. But it might be more relevant than ever.
The current members of the Brooklyn Jazz Underground (L-R): Dan Pratt, Adam Kolker, Anne Mette Iversen, Alexis Cuadrado, Sunny Jain, Rob Garcia, David Smith, Alan Ferber. (courtesy of the artist)
Jazz musicians draw their creative juices from working with others on the bandstand. But as businesspeople, they’re independent contractors. And in 2010, where their services are not in high demand, it’s increasingly difficult for them to market their craft.
Sensing strength in numbers, a group of bandleaders based in Brooklyn, N.Y. gathered over four years ago to promote their original work. As an association, they curate festivals and concert series, maintain a Web site that serves as an information hub, and run a sister record label. BJU Records has put out 12 releases so far, including albums which no BJU member actually plays on.
The lineup has changed somewhat since its first formal announcement in 2006, but the state of the union is strong: the Brooklyn Jazz Underground is presenting its fourth annual festival at the Cornelia Street Cafe in New York. Having been to the first such festival, I decided to check up on the musicians’ collective in an e-mail interview with two of its founding members: bassists and composers Anne Mette Iversen and Alexis Cuadrado.
Before the questions, here’s a sampler of BJU musicians’ recordings:
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It’s been over four years since the first BJU Festival, which basically announced the birth of the organization. What have been the most striking changes since then?
Cuadrado: In these last 4 years we’ve learned a lot about ourselves individually and collectively, just by being part of BJU. We’ve definitely fine-tuned what our goals are and we’re now more focused on what we’re doing, how we’re doing it and why. We’ve become more “goal-oriented” and defined these goals much better. We’re now developing a stronger community-oriented agenda and throughout this and next year we want to reach out and have more of an impact in our neighborhoods and bring our (and other artists’ from Brooklyn) music to places where it normally can’t be heard.
Iversen: Yes to everything Alexis mentions above. I’d also say that we have become more realistic with our goals and about the way we work in order to achieve things. For instance, we realized that we all have so much on our plates that whatever goals we set for BJU as an organization have to reflect our individual goals/individual ambitions in order to happen.
How do you feel your careers have changed since four years ago?
Cuadrado: I particularly feel that one’s career is a constant work in process, regardless of where you started and who knows where it’ll end. For me it’s all about keeping the creative juice flowing and making stuff happen one way or another; that way there is always progress of some sort. I think being part of BJU has become part of our careers and both things are now really tied together. I like my career choices now much better than 4 years ago, and I think it’s because I’ve seen and learned a lot from the other BJU guys.
Iversen: I do feel that being a member of BJU has helped generate attention to my music and projects, and that certainly was a common initial goal when we created BJU. But also as Alexis says, a major aspect of being a BJU member has been seeing how fellow musicians work and being inspired by that, and the collective has sort of become a stamp of identity that represents a certain musical attitude and creativity. To answer your question very directly: I feel that my membership of BJU has matured me as a professional musician.
For me, one of the more interesting things is your BJU Records label. It’s grown to an agency that puts out music by people who aren’t even part of BJU, the organization. Why did you start the label, and why has it expanded so much?
Cuadrado: We started the label as an outlet to BJU members’ CDs, and in a tricky moment where the industry seemed kind of boundless. Both Anne Mette and I had good records (or so we thought) that were not being picked up by labels … I was with Fresh Sound and got sort of “dropped,” or other labels would offer me a really bad deal if a deal at all …
Then we decided to create the “sister company” to BJU, and we had to learn a few aspects of how to run a small business, but once that first hurdle was over, we realized that we had created an infrastructure that would allow musicians to own their recordings and at the same time promote them in a cooperative business manner. Other bandleaders from the Brooklyn scene asked us, so we went for it and started putting out whatever we thought would match our criteria in terms of quality and attitude towards music. This way we also don’t limit ourselves to the core eight members of BJU and keep our exposure constantly out there. It’s a win-win-win situation.
Iversen: I’d also say that the expansion to include non-BJU artists is an acknowledgement that there are many great musicians, composers, bandleaders in Brooklyn/NY that fit the profile of the BJU and BJU Records, but just, given the structure of BJU and the way we work and make decisions, can’t all be members of BJU.
I assume you aren’t making much money from this — what’s the purpose of having your own jazz record label these days?
Cuadrado: We’re not making ANY money, and as surprising as that might sound, as a record company that’s where we actually want to do. We act as a non-profit. The artists finance their projects completely and share the costs of publicity. This way, we all benefit from this constant exposure that would be otherwise financially unattainable for any of us individually.
Iversen: The purpose is also that we, the artists, retain all rights to our own music, plus all income from CD sales, while we benefit from sharing the BJU brand and some of the financial load that it is to be a jazz musician not backed by a traditional label. And we as a label go about things and business thinking as artists and prioritizing the artists’ points of view, and not having to worry about a business that needs to balance and sell.
You are right then; why do we want to do it when we are not making money and actually working a bit for other artists without real compensation? Well, in fact it feels great to know that we can service other great artists this way, and offer a favorable situation to artists that are willing to put in their own work for their own cause.
The current members of the Brooklyn Jazz Underground (L-R): Sunny Jain, Dan Pratt, Anne Mette Iversen, Alexis Cuadrado, Rob Garcia, Alan Ferber, Adam Kolker, David Smith. (courtesy of the artist)
I know you’re a group of musicians who got together under this “Brooklyn Jazz Underground” name — but what makes what you folks do a “collective”? Many of you don’t play with each other — what is collective about what you do?
Cuadrado: The link that unites all of us is the attitude toward music. I believe that all of us have a very high standard of what original, improvised music ought to be and we have a strong passion for our projects. Also having a diversity of backgrounds, ethnicity, gender and what-not gives the collective real “Brooklyn” seal of approval, if you want to call it that. We really respect each other as musicians and creative individuals, and it just feels good to be part of this group and have this common goal together. We now are making decisions about our careers collectively, and many times biting our tongues and leaving projects to succeed or crash regardless of what we initially thought about them … so we’re learning about the industry and about music itself collectively.
If I may submit a follow-up: what are the actual activities you do which make what you do a collective?
Iversen: A collective works together about things, and we work together about promoting our individual groups through our yearly festival and CD sampler, our Web site, selling of sheet music, the label, our concert series, podcasts, videos, a monthly newsletter … we did a fundraiser for music in public schools a little while ago, we might do some kind of “behind the scenes” videos about how we work with our music, about our instruments, or … and more to come.
Let’s say I’m a very good young musician living in Red Hook. Tell me why I might want to join your organization. From your points of view, what are the benefits? What do you have to do to join the collective?
Cuadrado: As mentioned before, the exposure and the publicity power becomes automatically larger. Then you are just hanging out and brainstorming with seven or eight other cats that are in the “same boat” as you are …
Iversen: And that in itself is a great source for inspiration and support.
I know some members have left — are you at liberty to say why?
Cuadrado: Sure, it has mainly been because of busy schedules, families, babies being born, people moving, getting married … that kind of stuff.
Do you think this is a model that other musicians and communities can follow? Did you start the BJU with other models in mind: the AACM, or something like that?
Cuadrado: As a matter of fact two collectives have already sprung following our model (to our surprise I must say): the LA Jazz Collective and the Paris Jazz Underground. It will be cool to see if we can all collaborate somehow. We often joke saying that we should have patented the franchise.
It’s also the “Brooklyn” Jazz Underground. I know you all live in Brooklyn, but what are you trying to communicate by labeling your organization “Brooklyn”? Do you think that the fact that both of you, and other founding members, are originally from Europe has anything to do with it?
Cuadrado: I think that Brooklyn has become its own brand of coolness; it’s the “new downtown” or something like that, the place to be, the place where the artists moved, etc. But for us it was just a matter of geographical coincidence. We all lived in Brooklyn and we shared the attitude and ideas towards jazz … and we are just magically taking advantage of the brand! Maybe our “Euro-ness” had something to do in the sense that a few of us had the same experience moving from the Old Country to here (and losing our fantastic free healthcare all along).
Iversen: I don’t think that some of us being from Europe has anything to do with the “Brooklyn” label, other than maybe that the Brooklyn vibe is just one that we can identify ourselves with. To us, Brooklyn was hip five years ago, and we all felt that the Brooklyn jazz scene has an openminded-ness and musical diversity and creativity that we’d like to identify ourselves with. Therefore it was obvious to include Brooklyn in our name. And yes, we all live in Brooklyn…
Now that more people are taking notice of Brooklyn’s jazz scene than 5 years ago — even George Wein’s New York summer jazz festival is going to Brooklyn clubs for the first time — do you feel you folks are as “underground” as you once were?
Cuadrado: Hard to say … I guess not if we’re being interviewed by A Blog Supreme, but our “warrior” attitude remains … I think. George Wein’s “Overground” JVC festival went bankrupt (very unfortunately) so it’s not that any of us are here for the money or anything. My belief is that the day we all can make a decent living by playing our music then we will have exited the “Underground.”
Iversen: Ditto on Alexis’ last sentence.
You do know that Cornelia Street Cafe, the site of the Brooklyn Jazz Underground Festival, is in Manhattan?
Cuadrado: Well, I thought you knew that lower Manhattan had been now annexed as a Brooklyn suburb!
Any further thoughts about the BJU?
Cuadrado: There will be a lot to come in this next year or two: podcasts, videos (we’re documenting the entire festival to broadcast it for free on our site) … We’re applying for grants to make our operations bigger and appealing to all the public … We’re starting a new residency at Korzo in Park Slope in collaboration with Connection Works, an incredible Brooklyn-based non-profit … each one of the CW and BJU members will curate a month during this year 2010, so a lot of the Brooklyn scene is going to be showcased there. Stay tuned!
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Related At NPR Music: A Favorite Session with Alexis Cuadrado’s quartet. Anne Mette Iversen on Song Of The Day.
by Felix Contreras
Keyboardist Bobby Espinosa, called by one music writer “The Jimmy Smith of East Los Angeles,” died last week in Los Angeles, at age 60.
Espinosa was a founding member of the 1970s-era Latin band El Chicano. Though the band was marketed as a pop act, they were a damn good Latin jazz band too.
Espinosa brought his love of jazz to the group, and the result was Hammond organ-fueled Latin takes on jazz classics like Herbie Hancock’s “Cantaloupe Island,” Freddie Hubbard’s “Little Sunflower” and Gerald Wilson’s “Viva Tirado,” which landed on both the Billboard Pop (#28) and R&B (#20) charts in 1970.
El Chicano’s first two albums landed at #8 and #16 on the Billboard Jazz Album charts. Espinosa’s Jimmy Smith-influenced organ, together with guitarist Mickey Lespron’s Wes Montgomery-style playing, would have sounded at home on any Blue Note recording session. Congeuro Andres Baeza and timbalero Rudy Regalado provided an Afro-Cuban element, while drummer John de Luna and bassist Freddie Sanchez endowed the band with rock and soul grooves. Their collective voice was another quality example of an era that ignored boundaries and labels.
Their 1972 album Revolution included a tune made popular by Latin jazz pioneer Cal Tjader in the 1950s, “Cubano Chant” (written by jazz composer Ray Bryant). The vibrato intro by Espinoza holds its own among the masters of the Hammond B-3 organ.
Hear the music, after the jump.
Between 1970 and 1974, each one of the band’s first five albums had a jazz or Latin jazz classic on it (including Horace Silver’s “Senor Blues”). For over 40 years, El Chicano had a solid base of fans largely among Latinos, many of whom (myself included) found their way to jazz partly through those early El Chicano albums. And Espinosa was central to the serious jazz cred they brought to their music.
One of my favorite Bobby Espinosa moments is from the 1972 El Chicano album Celebration. It’s a melancholy, solo take on Josef Zawinul’s “In A Silent Way.” I’ve always been touched by the way he re-imagined the lament of a homesick young Austrian into the quiet reflection of a young Chicano from East Los Angeles.