Rehearsing The Blues

Glass Enclosure

 

I am constantly involved with music. If I'm not actually buying it, then I'm researching it, re-organizing it, writing about it, or just listening to it. The amount of music I have on my computer actually became a problem this past year, as college assignments (saved until the last grades were in, just in case) took up space already reserved for the next twenty albums I had on my wish list. My MacBook Pro holds 250 gigabytes; my music is 165 gigabytes, and jazz alone is 150 gigabytes of that. 

As someone who not only listens to but also simply accrues this much music, I necessarily have songs or artists who hold a special place in my ears; these are the musicians and albums that seem to flip some switch in my brain, removing any stresses of the day and slowing me down to a more human pace. I talked about some of these albums in a recent article (Stepping Back, Moving On), but those records were the discs I've lived with and loved for years. They might be intricate mazes of sound, but I know where every twist and turn is - and when every note has the power to surprise and delight, who could resist revisiting every one? David Prentice is this way about Kurt Rosenwinkel, a bassist friend of mine feels the same about Charles Mingus, and even jazz masters like a Jackie McLean or Lester Young had their home base musicians; whether it was Frank Sinatra or Charlie Parker, it had that same beauty, that same familiarity, and the same surprises which somehow still surprised. 

But McLean and Young were able to buy vinyl records, and transcribe from them, wear them down. The relationship between that black plastic disc and the ears that listened to it was a special one indeed. Having so much oddly transient music formats available to me in a few clicks is a very different relationship, one defined more by how I have my music more than how I actually hear it.

Memorial Album

Today is Memorial Day. Jazz's history with the armed services goes all the way back to James Reese Europe, who directed the celebrated regimental band of the 369th Infantry (also known as the Harlem Hellfighters) during World War I, and to musicians picking up ex-military instruments from pawnshops in the early days of New Orleans jazz. 

But after World War I, few jazz musicians were happy to serve in the military. Many were drafted, and more often than not those draftees were black musicians who didn't see much point in fighting a war against fascism when they themselves were being oppressed by the white power structure at home. Lester Young is probably the most famous jazz veteran of World War II, more for the legend of his harsh treatment and theories of its connections to his subsequent musical, mental and physical decline than for anything else. However, there was a whole generation of American musicians who served between 1941 and 1945, including Jon Hendricks, who first heard Charlie Parker on the boat back to the United States from Europe, and, of course, Glenn Miller, who, although more tenuously connected to jazz in 2011 than a Hendricks or Young, was a major part of popular "jazz" music in the 1930s and 1940s. 

Memorial Day is dedicated to all of those who have given their lives in the service of the United States, and thus Miller is more to the point of a jazz Memorial Day. Miller and his band disappeared in 1944 while flying from England to France. Of course, the mental toll of war should be remembered, too, and for that we not only have Lester Young but also the late Billy Bang, Henry Threadgill and an entire generation of jazz musicians who served in Vietnam. 

While most jazz musicians who served survived their time in uniform (John Coltrane, Hampton Hawes, Joe Henderson, Booker Ervin, Johnny Griffin, and many more), there have been those famous names, like Miller's, which ended up on gravestones.

But, on this day of remembrance, it is essential to remember another side to those jazz musicians who served. I recently had a conversation with a friend of mine about potential. Imagine the unnamed potential that ended in the jungle, or on a plane, or in a trench; imagine all of the fine musicians who could have been a Louis Armstrong, or a Wayne Shorter, or a Bill Evans, or even a Wynton Marsalis or a Jason Moran, if they had not died in the service of their country.

We thank every veteran, and we in the jazz community shine our spotlight on jazz veterans. But, on this day or memoriam, we especially remember those whose musical potential never got the chance it deserved, but whose potential for service and sacrifice was fully explored. Thank you.

 

Stepping Back, Moving On

We all have musical prejudices. Martin Williams disliked John Coltrane, Louis Armstrong hated bebop, Barry Ulanov looked down on everything not either Duke or Tristano. My most recent article, Value Judgment, seeks to emphasize a percieved lack of subjectivity in the world of jazz criticism. But in writing that piece, my aim was to make a point, not necessarily explain it. And, in making my point, I named names and brandished my lists of critics like some kind of jazz McCarthy, sitting behind a microphone and prophesizing downfall by objectivity.

I stand by my point, but with time comes reflection (and emails with Patrick Jarenwattananon), and a flaw in Value Judgment is, as I say, my lack of explanation. The comments on that post (now lost in cyberspace, I'm sorry to say) tended to ask for, or try to give, some clarification on what kind of subjectivity I meant, and how that subjectivity manifested itself. I touched on this slightly - too slightly, it seems to me now.

Value Judgment

Here are some opinions for you: Dizzy Gillespie has no chops. Chick Corea doesn't play jazz. Scott LaFaro can't play a walking line. Sonny Rollins is a better saxophonist than John Coltrane. Lee Konitz should buy a tuner. Jonathan Kreisberg is too self-conscious. The Revivalist is too narrow, A Blog Supreme is too broad, Jon Caramanica writes about the wrong people, David Itzkoff is too snarky, Dave Prentice is too long-winded and Jon Wertheim is too cranky.

Wait, what? Before you all pick up the phone to leave me angry voicemail messages, let me explain. Yeah, I believe these things. Yes, they're all negative. Does that make me a bad critic? Peter Hum and Tom Hewson have recently been talking about negative reviews, and it got me thinking. Does a negative review - or, to use a phrase from the article I just linked to, a "value judgment" - mean that someone is a bad critic?

I don't think so, and I've been noting with dismay a trend in critical discourses about all art forms to shy away from actually criticizing, and if they do, they apologize for it afterwards, or at least feel like they have make some kind of concession to their readers.

Jazz Famous (with David Prentice)

^What jazz critics look like when other jazz critics are talking.

Jon Wertheim: Dave, what are your criteria for a great artist? As we review new records and go to shows by contemporary jazz players, there's always a temptation to predict the next Monk, the next Mingus, the next Miles. Should this temptation be followed?

David Prentice: Ah, what a frustrating question. Well, as somewhat of a critic, I do think that critics should exercise caution when trying to predict who will be a great artist. Critics have an influence on what people listen to. I chose to listen to Ambrose [Akinmusire] because critics were saying big things about the record. You need to just to hear for yourself. Now, I totally agree that Ambrose is worth the praise, but what if the critics were wrong? I just spent all my time listening to a guy who isn't good when I could have directed my attention to someone who is truly great.

I guess I'm more a fan of descriptive criticism rather than prescriptive criticism. I don't like to talk about good and bad. When something isn't working, I'll explain why. When something is, I'll explain how it works. And otherwise, there are so many aspects of music to analyze that assessing the value of certain artists feels like a waste of time.

But I realize merely avoiding the question is completely unsatisfactory. We listen with the hope of discovering the truly great artists. That's part of the pursuit. So it would be fitting to come up with a definition of a great artist -- something that's objective as possible. And I think this objective method exists, but it would be hair-pullingly difficult to nail out. And even when one person may be objectively right, people will rarely agree.

A Heart Emerging

Well, people are finally talking about trumpeter Ambrose Akinmusire. Nate Chinen is doing it (at the New York Times and The Gig), NPR is doing it (on JazzSet with Dee Dee Bridgewater), and, yes, Blue Note Records is doing it, by signing one of the best and brightest trumpeters alive today (and, perhaps, the most innovative American trumpeter bar none). Akinmusire's Blue Note debut, When The Heart Emerges Glistening, is released on Tuesday, April 5th. It features Akinmusire, tenor saxophonist Walter Smith III, pianist Gerald Clayton, bassist Harish Raghavan, and drummer Justin Brown (Jason Moran appears on two tracks, while Akinmusire picks up a few other instruments over the course of the record).

I've been telling people about Ambrose Akinmusire for a few years now, ever since I started digging into Walter Smith III's records. The trumpeter has appeared on all three (his contribution to "Moranish" on last year's III is astounding) but made his most personal mark on Live In Paris, from 2009. That record includes the beautiful "Aroca" and the standard "Stablemates," both of which showed up on Akinmusire's debut, the undersung Prelude... To Cora (2008).

Great as Prelude is, it pales next to When The Heart Emerges Glistening. That isn't really due to any big-money recording capabilities from Blue Note (these days any tech-savvy amateur can make an indie record sound as good as a major label release), or to a better band (Smith and drummer Brown are on both discs, and the pianist on Prelude is the great Aaron Parks). Rather, it is the intensity of vision and intent that places Heart on a different level.

A Story No One Told

UPDATE: "You sure have a lot to say without knowing enough," was the reply from @REVIVEmusic (the Twitter account for The Revivalist) to this article (they have since apologized). I'm sorry, guys. I guess every time I mention your site I need to go back through all my beliefs that what you are doing is necessary, important, and exhilarating for a fan of jazz, hip-hop and live music, just so you won't jump down my throat.

Listen. I watch your videos (all of them!), I read your articles and interviews. Yes, I'm critical sometimes - that doesn't mean I'm belittling your mission (I am a critic, after all!). Honestly, when I have something critical to say, I say it with the hope that my subject can put that criticism in context - the context of support and constructiveness that I've tried to foster here at Rehearsing The Blues.

That said, I wrote this article quickly and with some emotion behind it. Reading over the passages where I mention The Revivalist, I see that as the article progressed, I started using your site as a kind of figurehead for something it really doesn't represent. I've tried to remedy that here. Thank you for bringing that to my attention, albeit in a roundabout and less-than-polite way.

Nevertheless, my criticism of the overall polarization of the intelligent critical commentary surrounding rap stands as stated here, and that includes you in both senses: firstly, everyone at The Revivalist is smart about what they listen to, and you contribute to that intelligent commentary; but secondly, the nature of your mission and focus places it at one end of a spectrum of commentary. It isn't a bad thing, that's just how it is. This article is stating the need for a middle ground, a site or critic not limited by a focus such as "live music in NYC." You guys have that scene covered. I'm not asking you to change. I'm asking someone else to add to the overall discourse.

So thank you, The Revivalist, for reading and letting me know, in your own way, that you read Rehearsing The Blues. This is my way of letting you know I read your stuff, too, and that you get me thinking - not always in happy ways, but always in meaningful and important ways. Thank you.

---

Shad is a name that should appear much more often in articles and analyses of hip-hop today. The Canadian, Kenyan-born rapper (full name Shadrach Kabango) has three official albums to his name, the most recent of which, TSOL, was released on October 10th, 2010. He tours the United States and Canada, he's won (but more often almost won) a few awards in Canada, and I can almost guarantee you've never heard of him.

Jazz Today (Jason Parker)

When Jon asked me to choose one musician who exemplifies the modern jazz musician, I knew immediately who I would write about: bassist Evan Flory-Barnes. In the interest of full disclosure I should say that Evan is the bassist in my band and one of my dearest friends. That should not take away from my estimation of him as the quintessential modern jazz musician.

Evan starting playing classical bass in high school, and only later on did he start playing jazz. He went through the highly acclaimed Garfield Jazz program here in Seattle and then studied at the University of Washington. In the ensuing years he has played just about every kind of music imaginable, from jazz to classical to solo bass to hip-hop, funk, latin, rock and experimental. He gigs 4-5 times a week and is one of the first-call bassists in town. He was also recently awarded a prestigious Meet The Composer grant to produce a 9-movement orchestral work with dance that was featured in the 2009 Earshot Jazz Festival (previous grantees include Jason Moran and Dave Douglas).

What makes Evan exemplify jazz today is his unwillingness to be classified as a jazz musician! He is a musician, a bass player, a human, and he brings all this to bear no matter what genre he happens to be playing in. It’s all about bringing his passion and his personality to each and every project he’s involved in. And while he’s studied the music and gone through the academic ranks, when he plays, it’s about pure emotion.

To give you an idea of Evan’s breadth, he plays with his own groups, like the modern orchestral hip-hop band Threat of Beauty, the indie-jazz/rock group Industrial Revelation, and the unclassifiable trio The Teaching. He’s played straight-ahead jazz with Marc Seales,Hadley Caliman and the Jason Parker Quartet, Latin music with Picoso and Jovino Santos Neto, R&B with Choklate, bass duets with Farko Dosumov, and much, much more.

Evan’s willingness to bring his jazz sensibilities to each and every project, and learn from them all, bringing that knowledge back to his jazz playing, makes him a great example of jazz today. What’s more, I think he’s part of a growing trend young musicians who feel it is important to put their energies into building up their hometown scenes rather than fleeing those scenes for New York. Evan could make a great name for himself in the jazz mecca, but has chosen to stay in Seattle and focus on creating a great scene here, collaborating with artists of all stripes.

 

Monk In Wonderland

Thank God for Ethan Iverson! The critic's righteous indignation lives on in Ethan, and today he's turned his sights on people who don't get "what makes Monk 'Monk'." About time! As someone who once spent an entire gig arguing with the shortsighted (mentally, not visually) pianist about just these issues ("Monk didn't know what he was playing," "It doesn't sound clean," the normal Monk-as-idiot-savant-who-isn't-all-that-savant-anyway bullcrap), I'm SO COMPLETELY ON THE SAME PAGE HERE.

"Monk’s surrealism has been interpreted as clowning around or startling," Ethan writes. He continues:

“Oh, look! I just clanged a minor second! Isn’t that funny!”  The Tom Lord discography lists songs called, “Monkin’ Around,” “Monkin’ Business,” “Monk-ing Around,” and “Monking Business.”  To the composers of these works I say:   Fuck you.  Monk never monkeyed around or did any monkey business. Sure, some of his renditions of standards like “Remember” or “Just A Gigolo” are among the greatest examples of jazz surrealism ever recorded.  But they are still serious.  And his clanging minor seconds come straight from boogie-woogie and Harlem stride, not the circus.

Amen, brother. Read the whole piece, it's biting and angry and thoughtful and should be printed out and hung on the wall of every jazz critic, New School student and Return To Forever fan in the United States.

Monk is one of the greatest pianists and composers who ever lived. Let me put it this way: if Shakespeare's plays were called Trinculo And Stephano, Mopsa And Dorcus or Dull And Costard instead of The Tempest, A Winter's Tale and Love's Labour's Lost, we sure as hell wouldn't find him in any classrooms in 2011. Lasting art has to have substance, the kind of substance that makes us think and love and yearn and wish and imagine. Monk has all of that.

 

Jazz Today (Rachel Cantrell)

I was sitting in Ravi Coltrane’s saxophone clinic at the Reno Jazz Festival when I was reminded of Jon Wertheim and the piece he’d asked me to do ages ago. Perhaps it was lack of concentration or a lack of inspiration, but I’d already spent more than a few nights blinking at the blank page on my computer screen, slightly panicked at the thought that I had no idea where to start. But watching Coltrane holding a microphone in one hand and steadying a saxophone in the other – a stark contrast to the Coltrane I’d seen a few months ago – definitely sparked something.