It might be a strange way to start a remembrance of a recently deceased artist, but I’ll freely admit that I had a love/hate relationship with Andrew Hill’s music. The fault was mine, of course; Hill’s music sometimes just outwitted me. I’m thinking of two solo performances of Hill’s I witnessed within 18 months of each other about 10 years ago. I left, frustrated, each time, well before Hill had left the stage. Well, not exactly. The first time, here in Ottawa, Hill left the stage numerous times, sometimes so briefly that it seemed that he might just be circling the backstage area for exercise, other times more decisively, perhaps to be shooed back onstage by the concert’s organizers. Each time, he left phrases unresolved; once, his hands poised over the keyboard and then withdrawn in second thought.
These two instances jarred with my reactions to Hill’s groundbreaking recordings on Blue Note in the 1960s and his later recordings for both Palmetto and the re-formulated Blue Note. I found Dusk ravishing and wrote glowingly of it. I assume I hit the mark with the artist since my remarks were quoted – without permission, as per the norm – to promote the recording. So we were simpatico there. But what to make of those solo performances? I wish I had recordings of them, because I’d love to plumb their depths and try to understand Hill’s logic, get as simpatico with him on those pieces as I was with others.
But my reaction speaks to why Andrew Hill’s passing deserves our attention; he was an original thinker and player.
Friday, April 20, 2007
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Pulitzer Puzzle
I don’t begin to understand the politics or external pressures behind the selection of the annual Pulitzer Prize awards, but it is gratifying to see the recognition given this week to Ornette Coleman and John Coltrane – even though everything related to jazz and the Pulitzer is viewed through the lens of the initial shunning of Duke Ellington and Wynton Marsalis’ win for his 1997 recording Blood On The Fields.
In my field – journalism – the Pulitzer (which was, after all, originally a journalism prize) has always seemed relatively without controversy. It has often recognized the stellar work of lesser-known reporters and small-circulation newspapers, as well as being given to news organizations with the budgets to devote endless resources to a story. In literature and music, things get murkier. As an outsider, it would seem that in the realm of these artistic endeavours the Pulitzers resemble any of the other major U.S. awards: recognition for well-liked, predominantly mainstream, artists. Fans of Cormac McCarthy – a novelist justifiably compared to Ernest Hemingway – have been outraged for years that he has been passed over in favour of writers with less command of the language but more clout in the marketplace. As one of his fans, I’m pleased to see his name on this year’s list, although it’s ironic that it comes only after McCarthy’s latest book, The Road, was selected by Oprah Winfrey for inclusion in her “book club.” There are also those who would argue that The Road is not as deserving as earlier works like Blood Meridian or All The Pretty Horses.
The same argument can be made for Coleman’s Sound Grammar – a fine recording to be sure, but no Free Jazz, This Is Our Music! or Tomorrow Is The Question. Still, in this year that finds Coleman feted on the Grammy Awards and lauded at the International Association of Jazz Education conference, who can complain about whatever gives him his due after years of surviving in the wilderness.
Coltrane’s Pulitzer Special Citation is also overdue, but also welcome; again, perhaps the Pulitzer committee’s way of making amends for past exclusion.
Now, let’s hope that Cecil Taylor is on next year’s list. Like Coleman, he’s both a vital force in contemporary music and an innovator who should have been recognized years ago.
In my field – journalism – the Pulitzer (which was, after all, originally a journalism prize) has always seemed relatively without controversy. It has often recognized the stellar work of lesser-known reporters and small-circulation newspapers, as well as being given to news organizations with the budgets to devote endless resources to a story. In literature and music, things get murkier. As an outsider, it would seem that in the realm of these artistic endeavours the Pulitzers resemble any of the other major U.S. awards: recognition for well-liked, predominantly mainstream, artists. Fans of Cormac McCarthy – a novelist justifiably compared to Ernest Hemingway – have been outraged for years that he has been passed over in favour of writers with less command of the language but more clout in the marketplace. As one of his fans, I’m pleased to see his name on this year’s list, although it’s ironic that it comes only after McCarthy’s latest book, The Road, was selected by Oprah Winfrey for inclusion in her “book club.” There are also those who would argue that The Road is not as deserving as earlier works like Blood Meridian or All The Pretty Horses.
The same argument can be made for Coleman’s Sound Grammar – a fine recording to be sure, but no Free Jazz, This Is Our Music! or Tomorrow Is The Question. Still, in this year that finds Coleman feted on the Grammy Awards and lauded at the International Association of Jazz Education conference, who can complain about whatever gives him his due after years of surviving in the wilderness.
Coltrane’s Pulitzer Special Citation is also overdue, but also welcome; again, perhaps the Pulitzer committee’s way of making amends for past exclusion.
Now, let’s hope that Cecil Taylor is on next year’s list. Like Coleman, he’s both a vital force in contemporary music and an innovator who should have been recognized years ago.
Friday, April 13, 2007
Keys To The Future
I've been working off and on over the past couple of months on a story for DownBeat about a very cool distance education program between the Manhattan School of Music and Canada's National Arts Centre here in Ottawa. Look for it in DB's "On Campus" section sometime in the fall.
Yesterday, as part of the story, I attended a piano masterclass by Kenny Barron. Barron was at the Steinway in the beautiful, new performance space at the Manhattan School of Music, and the students and an audience of +100 were here in Ottawa. The broadband technology is so good that Barron's Steinway sounded like it was in the house -- perhaps not with as much low-end presence as it would have if it was in the room, but clear as a bell.
There were four young pianists playing for Barron: Steve Boudreau from Ottawa, David Ryshpan (who had a trio) from McGill's Schulich School of Music in Montreal, Victor Cheng from the University of Toronto, and Hayoun Lee from Toronto's Humber College. All of them were quite good, but Lee in particular has really stayed on my mind. He performed a very moody "It Never Entered My Mind" and followed it with a crystalline take on "All The Things You Are." Both of them were filled with space, and Lee really impressed with his ability to take his time and maintain the languid feel throughout the pieces. I know from experience that the tendency when you're young and playing in an uncomfortable situation is to rush, but Lee didn't at all. Obviously, Lee's had years of classical training, but this was in another realm. The kicker was that when Barron asked him who his jazz influences were he replied that most of his musical influences were either hip-hop artists or Radiohead. Obviously, he's heard some Brad Mehldau along the way, but his command of time and mood was just exceptional.
Speaking of Mehldau, I've been sorting through some CDs I've been meaning to get to, and finally got around to listening to Mehldau's appearance on Marian McPartland's Piano Jazz radio program from 1996, which was recently released on disc. This was three years before DownBeat selected him as one of the 25 young artists to watch and just after the release of his first recording (he mentions how little solo work he'd done to that point) and it's interesting to hear how his style has evolved since then.
It's also interesting how, 12 years later, we immediately think of Mehldau when we hear someone like Lee stretching and de-constructing a tune while pledging allegiance to Radiohead.
As usual, all this makes me shake my head when I think of people who say jazz is dead or dying.
Watch out for Hayoun Lee and those three other players.
Yesterday, as part of the story, I attended a piano masterclass by Kenny Barron. Barron was at the Steinway in the beautiful, new performance space at the Manhattan School of Music, and the students and an audience of +100 were here in Ottawa. The broadband technology is so good that Barron's Steinway sounded like it was in the house -- perhaps not with as much low-end presence as it would have if it was in the room, but clear as a bell.
There were four young pianists playing for Barron: Steve Boudreau from Ottawa, David Ryshpan (who had a trio) from McGill's Schulich School of Music in Montreal, Victor Cheng from the University of Toronto, and Hayoun Lee from Toronto's Humber College. All of them were quite good, but Lee in particular has really stayed on my mind. He performed a very moody "It Never Entered My Mind" and followed it with a crystalline take on "All The Things You Are." Both of them were filled with space, and Lee really impressed with his ability to take his time and maintain the languid feel throughout the pieces. I know from experience that the tendency when you're young and playing in an uncomfortable situation is to rush, but Lee didn't at all. Obviously, Lee's had years of classical training, but this was in another realm. The kicker was that when Barron asked him who his jazz influences were he replied that most of his musical influences were either hip-hop artists or Radiohead. Obviously, he's heard some Brad Mehldau along the way, but his command of time and mood was just exceptional.
Speaking of Mehldau, I've been sorting through some CDs I've been meaning to get to, and finally got around to listening to Mehldau's appearance on Marian McPartland's Piano Jazz radio program from 1996, which was recently released on disc. This was three years before DownBeat selected him as one of the 25 young artists to watch and just after the release of his first recording (he mentions how little solo work he'd done to that point) and it's interesting to hear how his style has evolved since then.
It's also interesting how, 12 years later, we immediately think of Mehldau when we hear someone like Lee stretching and de-constructing a tune while pledging allegiance to Radiohead.
As usual, all this makes me shake my head when I think of people who say jazz is dead or dying.
Watch out for Hayoun Lee and those three other players.
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
What's In Store?
I don’t live in a huge city, but the population is around 750,000 and it is a gigantic tourist draw. There’s no shortage of shoppers in the downtown area.
With that as background, understand my reaction to the scene at the only brand-name music store – a branch of British chain HMV – near the epicentre of this busy tourist city. On offer were probably less than 1,000 jazz CDs, which included many, many copies of recordings by Nora Jones and Diana Krall – I think this may be the first time I’ve noticed Krall CDs outnumbering those by Miles Davis: no small feat considering how many more recordings Davis made.
Is it any wonder that CD sales declined 20% in the last measured period, and that jazz sales in particular are in the dumper? It’s like these retailers have just given up. Fully half the store is given over to DVDs.
My line of work means I have plenty to listen to without venturing into music stores much, and what I do buy, I buy online, so the decline in marketing efforts, meagre size of stock and variety was a bit of a shock.
I’d love to hear what the situation is like where you live.
With that as background, understand my reaction to the scene at the only brand-name music store – a branch of British chain HMV – near the epicentre of this busy tourist city. On offer were probably less than 1,000 jazz CDs, which included many, many copies of recordings by Nora Jones and Diana Krall – I think this may be the first time I’ve noticed Krall CDs outnumbering those by Miles Davis: no small feat considering how many more recordings Davis made.
Is it any wonder that CD sales declined 20% in the last measured period, and that jazz sales in particular are in the dumper? It’s like these retailers have just given up. Fully half the store is given over to DVDs.
My line of work means I have plenty to listen to without venturing into music stores much, and what I do buy, I buy online, so the decline in marketing efforts, meagre size of stock and variety was a bit of a shock.
I’d love to hear what the situation is like where you live.
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Delayed Gratification
Apple TV – Apple’s latest innovation, which promises to do for video content what their iPod did for sound – has me thinking about obsession and the attraction of the unobtainable.
When I was 17 and deeply in the hold of a raging music addiction, I spent endless hours in the shallow basement of a local clothing boutique poring over the plastic-jacketed sleeves of LPs, searching for a few gems. I had a list, cobbled together from my equally obsessive reading of Rolling Stone, Crawdaddy and whatever books on music I could find. I wish I could remember exactly what was on it, but suffice to say there were a dozen or so recordings that I had read about that held the promise of unlocking the doors to an unknown universe. I know for sure Muddy Waters was on there, because I remember arriving home with a copy of a stunning double-LP collection of Chess singles called McKinley Morganfield aka Muddy Waters, putting it on and hearing the primal guitar of Jimmy Rogers and the harmonica of Walter Jacobs combine in a way I’d only imagined. It’s probably safe to say that Elmore James was on the list, too. Rounding out my interest in seminal electric blues was early John Lee Hooker, driven by a wonderful description of a solo Hooker recording (probably by Pete Welding) that compared the sound to something cut into a roofing tile using a dull nail. I had to hear that!
Anyway, there I was in that basement record store with my list, getting that distinctive greasy, dusty feeling on my fingertips by pawing through the bins of LPs on display. Salesman John Pivas was cool because he’d let you play whatever caught your fancy (thanks, John!). As well as finding those records on the list one by one, I discovered countless others that spawned more lists. I was a veritable prototype of the character Nick Hornby wrote about in High Fidelity – actually more of a stereotype (which is a delightful pun when you think about it) because it turns out there were thousands of us out there.
While I know there are still 17-year-old obsessives, I can’t imagine they savour the same thrill of the hunt, unless they are completist collectors – a different breed altogether, more interested in acquisition than music. With whatever you want to hear just a couple of mouse clicks away, the hunt becomes more, What do I need to hear? rather than, Where can I hear this?
This isn’t meant as an old fogey’s rant against technology – I embrace innovation – but those kinds of list-driven scavenger hunts fuel the imagination in a way that instant access can’t possibly. Hearing Muddy Waters’ “Two Trains Running” 10 seconds after realizing that you want to hear it, can’t possibly be as satisfying as hearing it at the end of long search.
When I was 17 and deeply in the hold of a raging music addiction, I spent endless hours in the shallow basement of a local clothing boutique poring over the plastic-jacketed sleeves of LPs, searching for a few gems. I had a list, cobbled together from my equally obsessive reading of Rolling Stone, Crawdaddy and whatever books on music I could find. I wish I could remember exactly what was on it, but suffice to say there were a dozen or so recordings that I had read about that held the promise of unlocking the doors to an unknown universe. I know for sure Muddy Waters was on there, because I remember arriving home with a copy of a stunning double-LP collection of Chess singles called McKinley Morganfield aka Muddy Waters, putting it on and hearing the primal guitar of Jimmy Rogers and the harmonica of Walter Jacobs combine in a way I’d only imagined. It’s probably safe to say that Elmore James was on the list, too. Rounding out my interest in seminal electric blues was early John Lee Hooker, driven by a wonderful description of a solo Hooker recording (probably by Pete Welding) that compared the sound to something cut into a roofing tile using a dull nail. I had to hear that!
Anyway, there I was in that basement record store with my list, getting that distinctive greasy, dusty feeling on my fingertips by pawing through the bins of LPs on display. Salesman John Pivas was cool because he’d let you play whatever caught your fancy (thanks, John!). As well as finding those records on the list one by one, I discovered countless others that spawned more lists. I was a veritable prototype of the character Nick Hornby wrote about in High Fidelity – actually more of a stereotype (which is a delightful pun when you think about it) because it turns out there were thousands of us out there.
While I know there are still 17-year-old obsessives, I can’t imagine they savour the same thrill of the hunt, unless they are completist collectors – a different breed altogether, more interested in acquisition than music. With whatever you want to hear just a couple of mouse clicks away, the hunt becomes more, What do I need to hear? rather than, Where can I hear this?
This isn’t meant as an old fogey’s rant against technology – I embrace innovation – but those kinds of list-driven scavenger hunts fuel the imagination in a way that instant access can’t possibly. Hearing Muddy Waters’ “Two Trains Running” 10 seconds after realizing that you want to hear it, can’t possibly be as satisfying as hearing it at the end of long search.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Court Is In Session
A new jazz club, Live @ Courthouse, opens in Toronto March 22 – a new, permanent venue to take up the slack created when the Montreal Bistro and Top o’ the Senator stopped presenting live jazz. With 25-foot ceilings, an oak stage, two levels of seating, and an ambience based on Spike Lee’s film, Mo’ Better Blues, Courthouse is no basement dive. The owners – Liberty Group Entertainment – estimate that they’ve invested about $500,000 (Canadian), including $60,000 for a new piano. With cover charges in the $30 range for out-of-town artists booked on weekends, Courthouse is clearly aiming to attract a moneyed crowd, though some $10 gigs will be available on weeknights.
This puts Courthouse in line with some established New York City clubs like Iridium and The Jazz Standard. Hopefully, manager Patrick Taylor’s booking policy will follow the model of those clubs, too, because they’ve made their mark by not equating great sound, good food and comfortable seating with conservative music. While Iridium and The Jazz Standard do their share of safe, predictable bookings, they haven’t shied away from bringing in Cecil Taylor’s big band or Myra Melford, either.
Time will tell if Courthouse is as open-minded.
This puts Courthouse in line with some established New York City clubs like Iridium and The Jazz Standard. Hopefully, manager Patrick Taylor’s booking policy will follow the model of those clubs, too, because they’ve made their mark by not equating great sound, good food and comfortable seating with conservative music. While Iridium and The Jazz Standard do their share of safe, predictable bookings, they haven’t shied away from bringing in Cecil Taylor’s big band or Myra Melford, either.
Time will tell if Courthouse is as open-minded.
Monday, March 19, 2007
Taxing Web Music
Are the days of “free” online radio numbered already?
A new U.S. tariff on digital music streaming may be the death knell for nascent Internet radio services like my beloved Pandora.com – at least in the form that they’ve been previously constituted.
Right now, you can stream Pandora to your desktop merely by agreeing to a few unobtrusive ad placements on the graphic interface. Considering most people likely keep the program running in the background, the ads are of little consequence. And what a feast Pandora offers, particularly if your choice of music ranges into “deep catalogue” material like bop or blues. My Delta blues station serves up a ton of rare stuff by Blind Boy Fuller, Son House and Bukka White, while my “Lee Morgan” station regularly feeds me prime Blue Note cuts. When you’re feeling too lazy or distracted to pull out your own tunes or just want to leave the driving to others, Pandora is a work-at-home-man’s paradise.
Pandora has always struck me as an intelligent business model: the Oakland-based company licenses the music from the copyright holders, and provides one-click links to Amazon and iTunes, for those who want to purchase either an artist’s album or individual songs. It seems like the ideal marketing vehicle for artists not associated with major labels, and those savvy enough to retain the rights to their catalogue material. The fact that forward-looking indie artists like trumpeter Dave Douglas jumped on the service to provide access to their music reinforced my enthusiasm.
And it’s not just commercial services like Pandora that will be affected by the change.
The proposed tariff also spells trouble for National Public Radio, which streams items from many of its arts and entertainment shows via its website. These include music-laden feature reviews and profiles by NPR correspondents like Ashley Kahn and Kevin Whitehead, and concert features by a wide range of non-mainstream artists.
Both Pandora and NPR are planning to challenge the new tariff.
Terrestrial stations that have been using the Internet to broaden their audience base are also under siege. That spells disappointment for those around the world who have become fans of specialty stations like Newark, New Jersey-based WBGO – a jazz powerhouse – and KCRW – a campus-community station based in Santa Monica, California, which has a remarkable track record of discovering new talent, thanks to the ears of program director Nic Harcourt.
You can read more about the issue here.
If you’re a U.S. resident and care about this, write your representative in Congress.
A new U.S. tariff on digital music streaming may be the death knell for nascent Internet radio services like my beloved Pandora.com – at least in the form that they’ve been previously constituted.
Right now, you can stream Pandora to your desktop merely by agreeing to a few unobtrusive ad placements on the graphic interface. Considering most people likely keep the program running in the background, the ads are of little consequence. And what a feast Pandora offers, particularly if your choice of music ranges into “deep catalogue” material like bop or blues. My Delta blues station serves up a ton of rare stuff by Blind Boy Fuller, Son House and Bukka White, while my “Lee Morgan” station regularly feeds me prime Blue Note cuts. When you’re feeling too lazy or distracted to pull out your own tunes or just want to leave the driving to others, Pandora is a work-at-home-man’s paradise.
Pandora has always struck me as an intelligent business model: the Oakland-based company licenses the music from the copyright holders, and provides one-click links to Amazon and iTunes, for those who want to purchase either an artist’s album or individual songs. It seems like the ideal marketing vehicle for artists not associated with major labels, and those savvy enough to retain the rights to their catalogue material. The fact that forward-looking indie artists like trumpeter Dave Douglas jumped on the service to provide access to their music reinforced my enthusiasm.
And it’s not just commercial services like Pandora that will be affected by the change.
The proposed tariff also spells trouble for National Public Radio, which streams items from many of its arts and entertainment shows via its website. These include music-laden feature reviews and profiles by NPR correspondents like Ashley Kahn and Kevin Whitehead, and concert features by a wide range of non-mainstream artists.
Both Pandora and NPR are planning to challenge the new tariff.
Terrestrial stations that have been using the Internet to broaden their audience base are also under siege. That spells disappointment for those around the world who have become fans of specialty stations like Newark, New Jersey-based WBGO – a jazz powerhouse – and KCRW – a campus-community station based in Santa Monica, California, which has a remarkable track record of discovering new talent, thanks to the ears of program director Nic Harcourt.
You can read more about the issue here.
If you’re a U.S. resident and care about this, write your representative in Congress.
Monday, March 12, 2007
Apple Core?
I had an interview yesterday with a musician who, while certainly not a household name himself, is an ongoing member of a band led by one of the biggest names in the business. This profile, plus his own exceptional work, has made him a popular choice as a sideman – or so you’d think.
In fact, the pressure of making a living has recently forced him to make a sudden jump into academia and to leave New York City after a decade.
The move is undoubtedly a great one for him, and will certainly be a boon to those young people who will now get a chance to study with him, but it seems like a red flag regarding the health of the traditional breeding pool of innovative, young players in and around Manhattan. Since the early ‘40s, waves of the best musicians in their late teens and 20s have been making the move to the city, looking to hone their skills and learn from the best in the business. The line of young people following this pattern stretches from Charlie Parker to John Coltrane to Joe Lovano to Renee Rosnes, and of course there are hundreds of other lesser-known players who have followed the lead of these representatives of their respective generations. Regardless of the level of their talent, many who have followed the pattern have become much better for the experience of creating music in the company of others who work at the highest level.
It’s no secret that Manhattan has become prohibitively expensive during the past 20 years; most of the musicians on the scene have long since moved to Brooklyn or the northern reaches of Manhattan itself. Some, like Dave Douglas, have moved upriver to towns in the Hudson Valley.
But there still seemed to be the centrifugal force that kept musicians close enough to make club gigs, recording sessions, after-hours hangs. Now, I’m not so sure.
Obviously, one player taking a job at a university on the other side of the country doesn’t make a trend, but there’s enough evidence to raise alarm. He’s not the first to leave, but he has enough profile that he may well be viewed by others as a bellwether of significant change. What’s more, he reports that business is so bad in New York that many of his peers are also weighing their options. Even a handful of defections at his level would remove a significant number of bandleaders and first-call sidemen under 40.
Part of this is a reflection of what we’re seeing in the recording industry – the breakdown of traditional avenues of commerce for musicians – but are we also viewing a shift in attitude that, 80 years after Louis Armstrong first hit town, it’s not essential to remain at the epicentre of the jazz world?
In fact, the pressure of making a living has recently forced him to make a sudden jump into academia and to leave New York City after a decade.
The move is undoubtedly a great one for him, and will certainly be a boon to those young people who will now get a chance to study with him, but it seems like a red flag regarding the health of the traditional breeding pool of innovative, young players in and around Manhattan. Since the early ‘40s, waves of the best musicians in their late teens and 20s have been making the move to the city, looking to hone their skills and learn from the best in the business. The line of young people following this pattern stretches from Charlie Parker to John Coltrane to Joe Lovano to Renee Rosnes, and of course there are hundreds of other lesser-known players who have followed the lead of these representatives of their respective generations. Regardless of the level of their talent, many who have followed the pattern have become much better for the experience of creating music in the company of others who work at the highest level.
It’s no secret that Manhattan has become prohibitively expensive during the past 20 years; most of the musicians on the scene have long since moved to Brooklyn or the northern reaches of Manhattan itself. Some, like Dave Douglas, have moved upriver to towns in the Hudson Valley.
But there still seemed to be the centrifugal force that kept musicians close enough to make club gigs, recording sessions, after-hours hangs. Now, I’m not so sure.
Obviously, one player taking a job at a university on the other side of the country doesn’t make a trend, but there’s enough evidence to raise alarm. He’s not the first to leave, but he has enough profile that he may well be viewed by others as a bellwether of significant change. What’s more, he reports that business is so bad in New York that many of his peers are also weighing their options. Even a handful of defections at his level would remove a significant number of bandleaders and first-call sidemen under 40.
Part of this is a reflection of what we’re seeing in the recording industry – the breakdown of traditional avenues of commerce for musicians – but are we also viewing a shift in attitude that, 80 years after Louis Armstrong first hit town, it’s not essential to remain at the epicentre of the jazz world?
Monday, March 05, 2007
Jazz Journalists Online
It has taken more than a decade, but it seems that a fair number of jazz journalists are now taking advantage of the Web to augment – and in a few cases, circumvent – their traditional avenues for communicating with their audiences.
Some have launched blogs, others use more traditional Web sites that stay static longer. One of the most enterprising, Washington, D.C.-based Bill Shoemaker, has even created his own monthly alternative publication, Point Of Departure.
Frankly, I’m surprised that more haven’t jumped in sooner. Back in the very early days of the public Web – circa 1994 – the discussion group rec.music.bluenote attracted a number of wired music commentators. It’s hard to believe from this vantage point but, despite being a public forum, the level of discussion was high enough and the volume of traffic sane enough that musicians like Steve Coleman and Vijay Iyer were regular participants. Through rmb, I struck up lasting friendships with several regular posters, including Aaron Cohen – now one of my editors at DownBeat – and the late Eric Nisenson.
The level of intelligent debate didn’t last long, of course, driving a number of people to less-public venues like mailing lists, and some off into who-knows-where.
More recent technologies like blogging and MySpace have now lured some of those people back; a good development.
Jazz journalists are a surprisingly non-techie lot (the stories I could tell!) but whether through their own devices or with the help of friends or children, some have now found regular homes for themselves online. None have pushed it further than Bret Primack (a true pioneer in the area) and Shoemaker, but several like Jazziz editor-at-large Larry Blumenfeld and Doug Ramsey are now offering regular commentary beyond what they publish in other places. I’ve started a list of those members of the 450-strong Jazz Journalists Association who have an online presence, which you can find here.
Some have launched blogs, others use more traditional Web sites that stay static longer. One of the most enterprising, Washington, D.C.-based Bill Shoemaker, has even created his own monthly alternative publication, Point Of Departure.
Frankly, I’m surprised that more haven’t jumped in sooner. Back in the very early days of the public Web – circa 1994 – the discussion group rec.music.bluenote attracted a number of wired music commentators. It’s hard to believe from this vantage point but, despite being a public forum, the level of discussion was high enough and the volume of traffic sane enough that musicians like Steve Coleman and Vijay Iyer were regular participants. Through rmb, I struck up lasting friendships with several regular posters, including Aaron Cohen – now one of my editors at DownBeat – and the late Eric Nisenson.
The level of intelligent debate didn’t last long, of course, driving a number of people to less-public venues like mailing lists, and some off into who-knows-where.
More recent technologies like blogging and MySpace have now lured some of those people back; a good development.
Jazz journalists are a surprisingly non-techie lot (the stories I could tell!) but whether through their own devices or with the help of friends or children, some have now found regular homes for themselves online. None have pushed it further than Bret Primack (a true pioneer in the area) and Shoemaker, but several like Jazziz editor-at-large Larry Blumenfeld and Doug Ramsey are now offering regular commentary beyond what they publish in other places. I’ve started a list of those members of the 450-strong Jazz Journalists Association who have an online presence, which you can find here.
Sunday, March 04, 2007
Advertisements For Myself
Not music related, unless you want to travel to Ottawa for the 10-day Ottawa International Jazz Festival beginning June 21 or the Ottawa Bluesfest July 6-15, but I can't help mentioning that my new book, Frommer's Ottawa, hits stores March 5.
This is the third edition of the guide, thoroughly updated from the previous edition and featuring all the highlights of Canada's capital city, one of North America's premier tourist destinations.
This is the third edition of the guide, thoroughly updated from the previous edition and featuring all the highlights of Canada's capital city, one of North America's premier tourist destinations.
Saturday, February 24, 2007
CD Buying Tip
Write April 3 on your calendar because that's the day Ojos Negros, a set of duets by Dino Saluzzi and Anja Lechner, is released by ECM.
It is a stunningly beautiful piece of work — seven of Saluzzi's compositions and the title song by Vicente Greco.
They are touring behind this beginning April 18 in Eugene, Oregon. Unfortunately, the closest they are coming to me is Buffalo on the 28th, but if you get a chance to hear this CD or see them live, don't miss it.
This is my early nomination for CD of the year. If anything beats it, that will be one hell of a recording.
It is a stunningly beautiful piece of work — seven of Saluzzi's compositions and the title song by Vicente Greco.
They are touring behind this beginning April 18 in Eugene, Oregon. Unfortunately, the closest they are coming to me is Buffalo on the 28th, but if you get a chance to hear this CD or see them live, don't miss it.
This is my early nomination for CD of the year. If anything beats it, that will be one hell of a recording.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Passing It On
I mentioned Phil Nimmons here the other day, and today The Toronto Star’s Ashante Infantry has a nice piece about Nimmons and one of his many former star pupils. Typically, Phil shrugs off any credit for drummer Ernesto Cervini’s development while the young man was studying at the University of Toronto.
Aside from the energy and vision Phil brought to the task of creating jazz programs in Toronto, Banff and elsewhere across Canada, his legacy is the approach to performance-based learning that he implemented wherever he went.
As he told me a couple of years in a piece that’s archived here, one of the biggest challenges he faces in teaching improvisation in an institutional setting is inspiring students to allow the music they create to carry them beyond the sterility of the practice room.
Woodshedding is a tried-and-true jazz tradition, of course, but the big knock on a lot of contemporary musicians is the fact that universities and jazz camps have taken the place of learning on the job. Wherever you study the basics and hone your technique, though, the best players are always those who can extend their imagination past the ‘shed to the stage. That hasn’t changed since Charlie Parker’s day.
That puts me in mind of Michael Brecker, whose abbreviated life was celebrated in Manhattan the other night. Aside from the heights he scaled as a performer, Brecker was loved by music students for his ability to successfully straddle the worlds of formal academia and live performance. Like Dave Liebman – one of many who were on hand to fete Brecker – he was a leading member of the first generation that showed that you can learn your stuff away from the bandstand and still bring it when the time comes.
Aside from the energy and vision Phil brought to the task of creating jazz programs in Toronto, Banff and elsewhere across Canada, his legacy is the approach to performance-based learning that he implemented wherever he went.
As he told me a couple of years in a piece that’s archived here, one of the biggest challenges he faces in teaching improvisation in an institutional setting is inspiring students to allow the music they create to carry them beyond the sterility of the practice room.
Woodshedding is a tried-and-true jazz tradition, of course, but the big knock on a lot of contemporary musicians is the fact that universities and jazz camps have taken the place of learning on the job. Wherever you study the basics and hone your technique, though, the best players are always those who can extend their imagination past the ‘shed to the stage. That hasn’t changed since Charlie Parker’s day.
That puts me in mind of Michael Brecker, whose abbreviated life was celebrated in Manhattan the other night. Aside from the heights he scaled as a performer, Brecker was loved by music students for his ability to successfully straddle the worlds of formal academia and live performance. Like Dave Liebman – one of many who were on hand to fete Brecker – he was a leading member of the first generation that showed that you can learn your stuff away from the bandstand and still bring it when the time comes.
Monday, February 19, 2007
Canada's Cultural Heroes
I have a deep respect for the generation of Canadians who built the cultural institutions we take for granted today. It’s a generation that is – too rapidly – disappearing.
The latest to go is Celia Franca, who founded the National Ballet of Canada in 1951 and was its artistic director for 24 years. Along with Betty Oliphant, Franca also founded Canada’s National Ballet School, in 1959 – about the same time that another hero of mine, Phil Nimmons, was working to establish jazz education in Canada. It is impossible to overstate the importance those two events had on the artistic landscape in Canada.
Simply put, Franca gave birth to ballet as a native Canadian artform, as surely as Nimmons has made jazz a part of Canada’s culture through the school he co-founded with Oscar Peterson and Ray Brown, the Banff jazz program, and the various programs he put in place at Canadian universities. Without them, who knows how long it would’ve been that dance and jazz in Canada were merely offshoots of other, larger nations’ activities.
Franca – who had an impressive dance career in the Sadler’s Wells and Metropolitan companies before immigrating to Canada – was a tiny woman, but she bowled people over with her tenacity and her passion for the arts. For years she was ubiquitous on radio and television, but I only saw her once in person – at a symposium on the arts that was organized by one of the government funding organizations. She was riveting. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and her message that you have to fight and fight and fight to get the arts their due was truly inspiring. It’s little wonder that she single-handedly got ballet on track in this country and wound up turning out some of the world’s greatest dancers within a generation of moving here.
She died today here in Ottawa at 85 – too young it seems for someone who was so vital – a year after breaking her back in a fall.
The latest to go is Celia Franca, who founded the National Ballet of Canada in 1951 and was its artistic director for 24 years. Along with Betty Oliphant, Franca also founded Canada’s National Ballet School, in 1959 – about the same time that another hero of mine, Phil Nimmons, was working to establish jazz education in Canada. It is impossible to overstate the importance those two events had on the artistic landscape in Canada.
Simply put, Franca gave birth to ballet as a native Canadian artform, as surely as Nimmons has made jazz a part of Canada’s culture through the school he co-founded with Oscar Peterson and Ray Brown, the Banff jazz program, and the various programs he put in place at Canadian universities. Without them, who knows how long it would’ve been that dance and jazz in Canada were merely offshoots of other, larger nations’ activities.
Franca – who had an impressive dance career in the Sadler’s Wells and Metropolitan companies before immigrating to Canada – was a tiny woman, but she bowled people over with her tenacity and her passion for the arts. For years she was ubiquitous on radio and television, but I only saw her once in person – at a symposium on the arts that was organized by one of the government funding organizations. She was riveting. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and her message that you have to fight and fight and fight to get the arts their due was truly inspiring. It’s little wonder that she single-handedly got ballet on track in this country and wound up turning out some of the world’s greatest dancers within a generation of moving here.
She died today here in Ottawa at 85 – too young it seems for someone who was so vital – a year after breaking her back in a fall.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
JJA Top 10s
Thanks to Italian jazz journalist and editor of the magazine JazzColours Antonio Terzo, here's a compilation of the top 10 CDs of 2006, as voted by 46 members of the Jazz Journalists Association (about 10% of our membership) from around the world.
Ornette Coleman — Sound Grammar
Andrew Hill — Time Lines
Bill Frisell/Ron Carter/Paul Motian
Branford Marsalis Quartet — Braggtown
Sonny Rollins — Sonny, Please
Kenny Garrett — Beyond The Wall
Nels Cline — New Monastery
Bennie Maupin — Penumbra
Dave Burrell — Momentum
Trio Beyond — Saudades
Keith Jarrett — The Carnegie Hall Concert
You can see all the lists, some of which include comments, reissues, etc., at www.jazzhouse.org.
Ornette Coleman — Sound Grammar
Andrew Hill — Time Lines
Bill Frisell/Ron Carter/Paul Motian
Branford Marsalis Quartet — Braggtown
Sonny Rollins — Sonny, Please
Kenny Garrett — Beyond The Wall
Nels Cline — New Monastery
Bennie Maupin — Penumbra
Dave Burrell — Momentum
Trio Beyond — Saudades
Keith Jarrett — The Carnegie Hall Concert
You can see all the lists, some of which include comments, reissues, etc., at www.jazzhouse.org.
Monday, February 12, 2007
Grumbling About Grammy
It’s never more evident than during the broadcast portion of the Grammy Awards how poorly jazz is served by network television. As usual, no jazz categories were included in the televised section of the awards – no surprise, considering only about 10 categories are included – and only a small handful of the major contributors who died in the past year were included in the ‘In Memorium’ tribute. I can understand passing up Dewey Redman for Michael Brecker and Maynard Ferguson, but where was Jay McShann?
It was nice to see Ornette Coleman (surely the best-dressed in the audience) get recognized, but why force anyone his age to read the intro to the next awards? (Did you catch that he read his own name off the cue cards? You could almost hear him thinking, ‘Hey, someone else is called Ornette.’) It was left to Flea to give props by hanging a huge sign thanking Ornette over his bass amp and ensuring the camera caught it several times.
I can do without the forced, painful mash-ups between jazz musicians and pop or rock players NARAS or the producers deem more recognizable, but why are no jazz musicians drafted as presenters? The industry has so many articulate, funny, telegenic people, why not have Branford Marsalis, Christian McBride, Cassandra Wilson or Maria Schneider in place of Luke Wilson (where’s the musical connection?) or Christina Ricci (again, music?).
As with most televised awards shows, NARAS seems to have long ago lost sight of the purpose of doing something on this scale. When you sacrifice paying dues to those in your own industry who actually deserve it in favour of TV ratings – a mug’s game at any rate; last year the Grammy telecast lost out to American Idol – what’s the point? Say what you will about the Academy Awards, at least they have struck a nice balance between showcasing current box office draws and a reverence for the past. I think the closest we got last night was the inclusion of that clip of Ahmet Ertegun talking about the global influence of African American music.
Putting the jazz gripes aside… Three enduring mysteries of who gets Grammy airtime and what it says about the state of the music business: John Legend with his dodgy tonality, Rascal Flatts with their ‘80s-vintage guitarist and James Blunt, who seems to have gone farther using one chord than anyone since John Lee Hooker.
It was nice to see Ornette Coleman (surely the best-dressed in the audience) get recognized, but why force anyone his age to read the intro to the next awards? (Did you catch that he read his own name off the cue cards? You could almost hear him thinking, ‘Hey, someone else is called Ornette.’) It was left to Flea to give props by hanging a huge sign thanking Ornette over his bass amp and ensuring the camera caught it several times.
I can do without the forced, painful mash-ups between jazz musicians and pop or rock players NARAS or the producers deem more recognizable, but why are no jazz musicians drafted as presenters? The industry has so many articulate, funny, telegenic people, why not have Branford Marsalis, Christian McBride, Cassandra Wilson or Maria Schneider in place of Luke Wilson (where’s the musical connection?) or Christina Ricci (again, music?).
As with most televised awards shows, NARAS seems to have long ago lost sight of the purpose of doing something on this scale. When you sacrifice paying dues to those in your own industry who actually deserve it in favour of TV ratings – a mug’s game at any rate; last year the Grammy telecast lost out to American Idol – what’s the point? Say what you will about the Academy Awards, at least they have struck a nice balance between showcasing current box office draws and a reverence for the past. I think the closest we got last night was the inclusion of that clip of Ahmet Ertegun talking about the global influence of African American music.
Putting the jazz gripes aside… Three enduring mysteries of who gets Grammy airtime and what it says about the state of the music business: John Legend with his dodgy tonality, Rascal Flatts with their ‘80s-vintage guitarist and James Blunt, who seems to have gone farther using one chord than anyone since John Lee Hooker.
Sunday, February 04, 2007
The Beauty Of Balliett
I picked up my well-worn copy of the late Whitney Balliett's compilation, American Musicians II, with the idea of checking out (for probably the 10th time) his brilliant portrait of clarinetist Pee Wee Russell, "Even His Feet Look Sad," but got sidetracked into his lesser-known sketch of Cecil Taylor. (The fact that Balliett dug both Russell and Taylor tells you all you need to know about his catholic tastes.)
In a long, long paragraph on Taylor's style, this sentence jumps out: "He uses enormous chords; tone clusters; single-note arpeggios of such speed that they are almost indistinguishable from glissandos; runs played simultaneously by three fingers on each hand, the fingers held at an eighty-degree angle to the keyboard; runs and massed notes struck with a fist or elbow."
Beyond the virtuosic wordplay, the visual — and aural, because I surely hear that sentence as much as take it in through my eyes — imagery of Taylor in action is stunning. In a couple of the obits I've read on Balliett people have noted that he didn't use a lot of technical terminology; clearly, that's not the case. What he did do is blend technical terms like "glissando" and "arpeggio" so smoothly into poetic language that the terminology never became an issue.
Thinking about what drew me to Balliett — and to one of my other heroes, Ralph J. Gleason, before him — it's his literary approach to music that stands out. First and foremost, when Balliett or Gleason described a piece of music you wanted to hear it for yourself. Even when they were describing negative elements or inferior performances, you wanted to hear things they heard, apply your own judgment, determine what you thought was important, and make your own musical connections. If a music critic can do that they've done their job.
In a long, long paragraph on Taylor's style, this sentence jumps out: "He uses enormous chords; tone clusters; single-note arpeggios of such speed that they are almost indistinguishable from glissandos; runs played simultaneously by three fingers on each hand, the fingers held at an eighty-degree angle to the keyboard; runs and massed notes struck with a fist or elbow."
Beyond the virtuosic wordplay, the visual — and aural, because I surely hear that sentence as much as take it in through my eyes — imagery of Taylor in action is stunning. In a couple of the obits I've read on Balliett people have noted that he didn't use a lot of technical terminology; clearly, that's not the case. What he did do is blend technical terms like "glissando" and "arpeggio" so smoothly into poetic language that the terminology never became an issue.
Thinking about what drew me to Balliett — and to one of my other heroes, Ralph J. Gleason, before him — it's his literary approach to music that stands out. First and foremost, when Balliett or Gleason described a piece of music you wanted to hear it for yourself. Even when they were describing negative elements or inferior performances, you wanted to hear things they heard, apply your own judgment, determine what you thought was important, and make your own musical connections. If a music critic can do that they've done their job.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Whitney Balliett RIP
I just heard that one of the most elegant, insightful jazz writers — and certainly one of my biggest influences — died today.
Whitney Balliett was the jazz columnist for The New Yorker from 1957 to 2001, and his crisp prose helped set the tone for the magazine during that period. It was Balliett who shone a light on Sonny Rollins' late-night trips to the Williamsburg Bridge, and helped maintain a level-headed pragmaticism about jazz while it was going through major upheaval in the '60s and '70s.
As a writer, he was unequalled by anyone with the possible exception of Gary Giddins. Truly someone who set the kind of standard you wanted to try and approach.
If you have a copy of The New Yorker's amazing complete CD-ROM library, check out some of his work; I know that's what I'll be doing over the next few days.
Whitney Balliett was the jazz columnist for The New Yorker from 1957 to 2001, and his crisp prose helped set the tone for the magazine during that period. It was Balliett who shone a light on Sonny Rollins' late-night trips to the Williamsburg Bridge, and helped maintain a level-headed pragmaticism about jazz while it was going through major upheaval in the '60s and '70s.
As a writer, he was unequalled by anyone with the possible exception of Gary Giddins. Truly someone who set the kind of standard you wanted to try and approach.
If you have a copy of The New Yorker's amazing complete CD-ROM library, check out some of his work; I know that's what I'll be doing over the next few days.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
John Mclaughlin
Check this John McLaughlin performance on The Tonight Show out before it gets taken down. Amazing playing!
Monday, January 22, 2007
Wynton on Chainsaw
No, my ears weren't deceiving me; in fact, Wynton Marsalis' From The Plantation To The Penitentiary is even worse than I thought. If I didn't know better, I'd think it was a contract breaker.
Sample lyric from WM: "I see women dragging the souls of their womb-vanquished dreams never to be.” Wha?
Another ripe one: “The rap game started out critiquing/now it’s all about killing and freaking.”
What is most disturbing, though, is his premise that black Americans (read under-educated black Americans) have moved directly from white-imposed slavery to self-imposed slavery — or as Marsalis puts it "from yassa, boss, to ghetto minstrelsy." Talk about blowing off the entire black working class!
And, if that's not enough, he writes about America's obsession with "expensive fluff" in a song he calls "Supercapitalism." Now, that's one song we'll never hear on a Movado watch commercial.
Sample lyric from WM: "I see women dragging the souls of their womb-vanquished dreams never to be.” Wha?
Another ripe one: “The rap game started out critiquing/now it’s all about killing and freaking.”
What is most disturbing, though, is his premise that black Americans (read under-educated black Americans) have moved directly from white-imposed slavery to self-imposed slavery — or as Marsalis puts it "from yassa, boss, to ghetto minstrelsy." Talk about blowing off the entire black working class!
And, if that's not enough, he writes about America's obsession with "expensive fluff" in a song he calls "Supercapitalism." Now, that's one song we'll never hear on a Movado watch commercial.
Saturday, January 20, 2007
On A Limb With A Chainsaw
Whoo, boy! I just got a taste of the forthcoming Wynton Marsalis recording, From The Plantation To The Penitentiary, and if my ears aren't fooling me this is one of the worst albums I've heard from a major artist in years.
More listens will reveal details, but my visceral reaction to the doggerel he composed about "Supercapitalism" (this from a man who endorses designer watches and what all else!) is to turn and run.
And, oh yeah, he raps, too. Is there nothing this man can't do? His vocal debut "Where Y'all At?" is his swipe at the politicians who have failed America in the face of Katrina, et.al., but it's tame stuff, with lyrics that would make Stevie Wonder blush.
Can Marsalis truly believe that anyone wants to hear this from him?
More listens will reveal details, but my visceral reaction to the doggerel he composed about "Supercapitalism" (this from a man who endorses designer watches and what all else!) is to turn and run.
And, oh yeah, he raps, too. Is there nothing this man can't do? His vocal debut "Where Y'all At?" is his swipe at the politicians who have failed America in the face of Katrina, et.al., but it's tame stuff, with lyrics that would make Stevie Wonder blush.
Can Marsalis truly believe that anyone wants to hear this from him?
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