The State of Music

It's a scary title, I know. But I have thoughts.

I'm sure you've all seen, or at least heard about, this year's Super Bowl halftime show with Rihanna. I'm sure you've also heard at least one negative comment about it; personally, I enjoyed it. I am not one to listen to pop music, including Rihanna (I mean come on, I write a jazz blog), but there is no denying her cultural ubiquity as a performer and songwriter, or the sheer scale of the show. I hear her songs all the time without having any idea that it's her, and half the songs she performed in the halftime show I've heard at some point in my life.

Now, it's of course a tradition to crap on Super Bowl halftime shows for various reasons; my guess is that nobody can outdo the Michael Jackson show, which is a high bar from what I've heard. This year, though, I was quite surprised to see Rihanna's performance, hear she was pregnant, and still hear people complaining.

My main reason for writing this is that someone I know shared a video of Frank Sinatra and Ella Fitzgerald (two singers I really like, by the way) singing "The Lady is a Tramp", with a caption along the lines of "Man, this would be so much better if Ella put her fingers on her crotch!" Definitely a sincere statement. Essentially, this post covers the thoughts I had after seeing it and wisely decided not to put in a Facebook comment.

First off, Ella and Rihanna are both cultural icons; Ella was one of the most famous and widely acclaimed practitioners of jazz, as well as just a great singer and improviser, and people far and wide know and likely hum Rihanna songs, despite absence of recent material. Rihanna probably wouldn't sound as good with a jazz combo, nor Ella with electronic production, but that's only compounding on this apples-to-oranges deal. (Plus, both situations would still sound pretty cool.) Two cultural icons in two completely different settings and limitations, two women who made the music they felt compelled to make, and were lucky to become half as popular as they ended up.

In this Facebook post, there's also the implication that Rihanna was too sexually suggestive in her performance. Which yeah, duh. That's always been there. "The Lady is A Tramp" is not a good comparison in making the argument for the old days, when music was wholesome. (Remember Don Giovanni?) Oddly enough, considering this sexual overcharge, another major complaint was that she wasn't doing enough. Which. Not only was she visibly pregnant, but the production that involved a levitating stage and hundreds, maybe even thousands of active dancers was undoubtedly a showpiece. No costume changes or anything like that, but I was still very entertained.

And then, of course, there's the dreaded "same three chords" stance. I definitely get it, there's been plenty of formulaic and bland music produced this century that uses the same three chords. But we all tend to forget that there is still good music with only three chords: the goddamn blues form, among the most widely used forms in all of music. And you can't deny the humanity of a Delta blues singer who only plays three chords on their guitar.

Back to both Ella's and Rihanna's ubiquity; you don't see me making the argument of, "Man, Archie Shepp should really start doing more stripteasing!" Because unfortunately, as great as he is, Archie Shepp has always been a mainstream outsider, especially compared to Ella or Rihanna. Plus, if he did start stripping down in performances, that would definitely boost ticket sales. This does, however, bring up something that the whole past vs. present debate always glosses over: Shepp in this case represents the 90-95% of dedicated musicians that slip under the radar when the debate concerns the 5% or so heavily projected into the public eye. Quality of music can vary between mainstream and otherwise, but the most well-known performers are usually helped by a marketing force that spray-paints their image on every square inch of the world.

(The thing is, as well, Archie Shepp has seen quite some acclaim in his life, especially after having become an elder statesman in his 70's and 80's. He's definitely more of a figurehead than other musicians I could have named, but that's another talk for another time.)

Now, don't get me wrong. Ella is amazing. Sinatra is classy. Archie Shepp is cultured. But it's beyond me how out of all these people I've mentioned, Rihanna is the most controversial at the moment. For me, it's like this: music is about figuring out what sounds you want to create, and finding other like-minded musicians or artists who can give you wholehearted support. If people like it, that's great. If people don't like it, then keep doing your best to create what you want, regardless of people never come around to it in your lifetime. I don't go out of my way to listen to Rihanna, many people do the same with Ella, and God help anyone else who binges Archie Shepp's discography. Everyone's taste is different, which should be a given and is in fact a good thing.

That being said, a multitude of dancers and a singer in the center? Sounds like a Busby Berkley production to me...

Score (Randy Brecker, 1969)

Randy Brecker - trumpet, flugelhorn

Michael Brecker - tenor saxophone

Hal Galper - piano, electric piano

Larry Coryell - guitar

on tracks 1, 3, 5, 6, 8:

Eddie Gomez - bass

Mickey Roker - drums

on tracks 5, 6, 8:

Jerry Dodgion - alto flute

on tracks 2, 7:

Chuck Rainey - electric bass

Bernard Purdie - drums

Who's that saxophonist again? That name kinda rings a bell. I guess his future looks pretty bright...

Yes, this is Michael Brecker's first recording, yes he was only 19, and yes he would go on to have a very dense career in both jazz and pop spheres among other places. That was still to come, though - in early 1969, Michael was a fresh face on the jazz scene, the younger brother of Randy Brecker; Randy had already established himself in the New York jazz scene for two years, having played with Horace Silver and the Thad Jones-Mel Lewis orchestra. It's important to note that although Michael plays an important sideman role, this is Randy's recording. It was Randy's initiative as a leader at play, which is why he got Michael (his brother, mind you!) in the first place.

This is a very lean debut for Randy Brecker, showcasing his unique trumpet chops, his wry yet harmonically sophisticated writing, and his growing interest in the burgeoning idea of jazz-rock fusion. The general aesthetic is honestly pretty dated (just look at the album cover), which is reflected in the writing and especially the jazz-rock numbers, but it adds a kind of charm to the album. Even the recording work by Rudy Van Gelder gives the album an irrepressibly late 60's setting, which honestly does more well than harm.

For instance, Randy's two bossa tunes, "Morning Song" and "The Marble Sea", are standouts in their simultaneously peaceful and self-effacing nature. The latter is very harmonically simple, perhaps too much so, but the bridge inspires some twists and turns in Randy's and Larry Coryell's solos; there's even a chorus of them playing collectively. That being said, "Morning Song" is probably the better of the two; it's harmonically complex, the form is interesting, but it's quite pleasing and accessible (I feel that the melody to "Marble Sea" is too busy). The two tunes also benefit from an extra touch, Randy's Thad Jones bandmate Jerry Dodgion contributing alto flute to the written ensemble passages.

Probably my favorite pure Randy track on the album is his jazz waltz "Pipe Dream", with its witty title, shifting harmonies, Larry Coryell's guitar, and just its overall relaxed mood. Coryell, Eddie Gomez and Randy all contribute solos, and Mickey Roker adds some exquisite drumming to the mix. Not to mention, the album's overwhelmingly dated quality evades this track, which in terms of language implied by the title, is also the most transcendent on the album. Compared to most of the other tracks, it does way more that it needs to; it's most definitely the best glimpse of how Randy's writing would develop, as well as how his playing already had up to that point.

As for the tracks featuring Michael, where better to start than the anomaly on the album, the kooky minute-nineteen duet between brothers "The Weasel Goes Out To Lunch". It's a playful romp based on "Pop Goes the Weasel", but as the title infers, Randy and Michael take it way out in a way that frankly makes it quite adorable. It serves to reflect the days when they were kids, each playing their instrument (Randy on trumpet, Michael on clarinet) in their separate bedrooms through a connecting Jack-and-Jill bathroom. It also serves to showcase their remarkable chemistry together, which would be further showcased in the rock band Dreams, as well as their own well-renowned Brecker Brothers band. Definitely the most unique and fun track on the album.

Next is Hal Galper's "The Name Game", which features several distinct sections that still blend together to create a nice overall arc. Both Breckers and Galper himself navigate these turns very well, but admittedly it is Michael's solo that stands out, if anything else for how unusually patient its pace is. It definitely showcases a strong maturity for nineteen years old, no less for his first big recording date. It's also very beautifully melodic, even when utilizing Coltrane-inspired patterns, something Michael would eventually become consumed by. There's something very honest and human about this embryonic version of the mature Michael Brecker style.

Even the "embryonic" Michael has a mature, thoughtful side, which aside from "Name Game" is also featured on Randy's "Bangalore". The melody is fairly short with some meter changes, and the harmony is very complex; while very derivative (borderline plagiarism) of tunes from Herbie Hancock or Wayne Shorter, Randy proves himself capable of maintaining interest while snaking through the tricky form. Then when Michael solos, he dances delicately through the changes as if he'd been playing them his whole life. It's also a rare treat to hear Michael as recorded by Rudy Van Gelder, as his saxophone sound is given much more warmth here, which especially shows on this track.

Hal Galper's "The Vamp" changes gears into rock territory. This is one of my favorite standalone tracks for its purely likeable demeanor, helped by the static harmony and boosted by the contribution of legendary drummer Bernard Purdie. As the title implies, the basic harmony never changes, giving the soloists ample opportunity to stretch out. Randy does. By God, does he stretch out! This is definitely proof positive of why Randy's one of my favorite trumpet players: his burnished sound, warm demeanor, and his chromatic tricks are all on full display here. 

As for Michael, he delivers as well, contributing pure, raw energy in his solo. He starts out with a screaming R&B-styled romp while inserting some frantic late-Coltrane honking and screeching to balance it out. As Michael's solo draws to a close, Randy joins in to create one of the best moments on the album: two brothers, screeching together, just going for it. It is this moment that proves both brothers are truly equals.

Randy (left) and Michael, circa early 1970's.

Now, my problems with the album. Not many of the compositions themselves are that great, and are more springboards for playing within a certain idiom. They usually work to this extent, housing complexity and some excellent solos, but not much else. Much of the album is also very derivative; Randy's "Bangalore" has a nearly identical rhythmic/harmonic pattern as Herbie Hancock's "Riot" from Speak Like a Child. In fact, much of the bossa material gives off a similar relaxed vibe to that album, which is in part due to drummer Mickey Roker and especially alto flautist Jerry Dodgion having appeared on it a year earlier. This doesn't mean Randy or Hal Galper are bad composers at this point - on the contrary, "Pipe Dream" and "Score" are really solid pieces that should be played more. And none of the other pieces are bad or unlistenable per se, they're just a little too derivative.

Another problem the album has, albeit more forgivable, is that it doesn't really blend jazz and rock; it just has them co-existing together, which isn't necessarily the same as fusion. In general, the album sounds like a movie soundtrack from the time period, due especially to the severe contrast between the jazz and rock tunes. As for the rock numbers themselves, the title track has a good place on the album, but having "The Vamp" in the middle of an entire side of more low-key sounds is pretty jarring. ("The Vamp" isn't even that great a tune anyway, and its title seems to be self-aware of that.) Even Galper's "Name Game", an amalgamation of jazz grooves, only goes so far as including a bossa nova section as opposed to a more obvious rock backbeat. The gap is also apparent by usage of two opposed, separate rhythm sections for the jazz and rock numbers; ironically, bassist Eddie Gomez, while on the jazz numbers here, would eventually go on with Michael to play in the acclaimed fusion group Steps Ahead.

That being said, major props must be given to the album's stalwart, guitarist Larry Coryell, who threads jazz changes just as well as shredding out rock rhythms. He was undoubtedly on the same page as Randy in terms of mixing jazz with rock, something Coryell had done with Gary Burton's group much more successfully. The two separate rhythm sections also do their jobs beautifully. Eddie Gomez provides some signature acrobatic bass antics, and his tandem with the texturally sound Mickey Roker provides some of the most beautiful backdrops on the album. Then of course, there's Bernard Purdie with rock-solid bassist Chuck Rainey: what else can be said?

The general mediocrity in the writing is more than made up for with the slam-bang title track. A catchy Hal Galper melody, some cool harmonic turns, both Brecker brothers soloing, Larry Coryell's rock stylings, Bernard Purdie's driving rhythm - this couldn't fail, even if it tried. Alongside "Pipe Dream", it's my favorite composition on the album, and the way it plays out is just as good. Michael stretches out for an insane two choruses (listen for possibly the highest note he ever hit!), Randy enters and matches the intensity, and Coryell relishes in rockish passion; all the while, Purdie's drum groove propels and tosses the metaphorical salad throughout the whole track. In contrast to "The Vamp", the composition itself is at the same level as the playing at hand, making "Score" a more successful foray into rock. (I like the groove and the playing on "The Vamp", but "Score" is overall just more solid.)

On the whole, Score is nothing too impressive, but it showcases a very unique talent in Randy Brecker. His compositions are solid, but it's his and everyone else's playing that really sells the album; the tunes mostly work as different idiomatic contexts in which to feature the musicians, and it's pulled off beautifully. Often, the tunes themselves are elevated by the players performing them, but "Pipe Dream" and the Hal Galper title track are underrated classics. "The Weasel Goes Out to Lunch" is also a unique piece of recording history, and is the most unique and probably notable track as well. Of course, Michael Brecker proves to be a solid front-line partner, even at nineteen, cementing the brothers' chemistry that would be continued into Dreams and the Brecker Brothers. To me, this might be one of Michael's finest recordings just for the elements of rawness and imperfection; any slight blemish when he solos here serve to add humanity to an already quite developed sound.

That being said, like any of Michael's sideman recordings, he seems to threaten to take over the album, but Score still acts as a fine recording with Randy as the mastermind. This is clearly his brainchild, and despite the mostly mediocre writing, the musicians he assembles are all top-notch. He and Michael would both go on to greater things, but this isn't a bad starting point in the least. I'd recommend it mostly as an advanced "vibes" or "aesthetic" album to listen to as if you owned a bachelor pad. 6/10.

Tracklist:

1. Bangalore

2. Score

3. The Name Game

4. The Weasel Goes Out to Lunch

5. Morning Song

6. Pipe Dream

7. The Vamp

8. The Marble Sea

Further reading:

Ode to a Tenor Titan: The Life and Times and Music of Michael Brecker by Bill Milkowski - there's a good enough section on Score that chronicles Michael's first big recording session, but like much of the book, it's a lot of "wow, look at what he does here! Look how cool his solo here is!"

That being said, the book itself is pretty good overall, and I'll have to write a review on it sometime.

Timelines (SHIFT, 2022)

SHIFT is:

Benjamin Rosfeld, modular synthesizer, vocals

Benji Skaloot - electric bass

Matt Robertson - drums

(I'm late to the game, as this album has been out for well over a month, but I think it's more about saying how relevant this still is. Enjoy.)

This is a first for me - first electronic/rock album I've reviewed, not to mention first review of an album made by my friends. I've had the pleasure of getting to see the development of this album, from the first single to the mature perspective that permeates the project. I've also had the privilege of getting first-hand accounts of the project's creation from the band's drummer, my close friend Matt Robertson.

First, some history of the band - Matt and Benji have been friends for a long time, and I've heard many a document of their jams together from high school. When Benji went to college, he met Benjamin Rosfeld, and the two bonded over their shared love of prog rock and electronic music, among other things (they, along with Matt, share a similar sense of humor). Then, when the two Bens traveled to Springfield, Missouri (where Matt and I live), Ben Rosfeld met Matt and the three realized their potential chemistry together.

Their first released single as a band, "Assemble", is what I think of when I think of SHIFT. A driving rock beat, a minimalist-esque bassline, and some wonderfully unhinged vocals and synthesizer. The lyrics are also delightfully brainy, portraying a robot with a human brain. It's probably not a fair comparison, but it brings to mind the more looney acts of the 1980's, like Talking Heads and Cars (when my dad first heard this song, he thought Ben Rosfeld sounded exactly like Gary Numan). While this is a great introduction to the band and all of its members, the primary highlight is the brain of Benjamin Rosfeld.

This is probably a good time to talk about Rosfeld; as the frontman of the trio, he possesses a very strong presence. For one, his voice instantly catches the listener's attention, similar to someone like Gary Numan, but also more a natural extension of his speaking voice. In "Assemble", Rosfeld goes from straight lyrics to the chant "Assemble!" to a wild chorus of screaming, serving to highlight his wide vocal range. Just as notable as his vocal skill, if not more so, are his stylings on synthesizer: he has perfect control over every timbre he decides to use. While not as prevalent on "Assemble", Rosfeld perfectly utilizes his synth to fit every context on the album. (Incidentally, his father Ken Rosfeld's studio was where the band recorded this album.)

I got to witness the evolution of "Assemble"; like many of the band's songs, it is built on a bass riff created by Benji Skaloot, something he has become a master of. Some more personal history: Benji was a major reason I decided to pursue music. He gave me my first experience of being in a band, and in the year he graduated high school, he exposed me to all kinds of different music, from the iconoclasts Frank Zappa and Jaco Pastorius, to more modern sounds from Thundercat and Snarky Puppy, to even the free jazz great Albert Ayler. Of course, I would be remiss if I didn't mention how much Benji is influenced by King Crimson, something that has carried over into SHIFT through every member. That being said, he's always been someone who dares to be original; his ideas and personality are special, and I consider it a privilege to know him.

Another very signature Benji Skaloot bass vamp is the basis of the band's next single, "Cold Summer Haze"; the fact that this coexists with "Assemble" proves the band's diverse and uncategorizable nature. This vamp is much more melodious, soaked in envelope reverb and backed by a much more relaxed hip-hop groove. It also serves as a harmonic cushion for some minimal synth noodling and introspective crooning from Rosfeld (both Bens contributed to the lyrics). The oxymoron in the title further adds to the bright yet foggy atmosphere this track creates, as well as the feeling during summer of time seeming to disintegrate.

Last, but certainly not least, is the drummer Matt Robertson, who has given me much firsthand account of the band's sessions. As the last piece of the SHIFT puzzle, he knows exactly where to fit, providing grooves and textures that drive the band, but don't overpower. While Rosfeld came from electronic music and Benji's background was more classic rock, Matt's primary influence is jazz - this doesn't even begin to describe his musical vision, however. Besides classic Coltrane, Miles Davis, Eric Dolphy and Herbie Hancock, he's also into J Dilla, Kendrick Lamar, Death Grips, black midi, and Thundercat just to name a few. (Incidentally, the Bens share a love for these artists as well.) Besides learning from him musically, we've also been close friends for about 3 years at this point, and we've talked to each other about almost everything under the sun since then.

Matt also doesn't shy away from dealing with personal/emotional issues such as burnout, which inspired the writing of the band's final released single "A Decade Feels Different Every Time". The melody is very much something Matt would write, inspired by the ancient quality of the perfect fourth interval, and the lyrics show a maturity and perspective far outside merely being a jazz drummer. The song addresses finding solace in technology, which in reality is nothing but overstimulation and burnout in the long run; it ties in perfectly with the band's sound and themes. Only adding to the feast is Rosfeld's idiosyncratic vocal delivery (especially during the second theme), and his icy synth gives the melody an air of resemblance to Eurythmics. I also really enjoy the bass solo over the vamp during the bridge.

Now, for a review of the album itself: as the title suggests, it represents different stages in all of time. The opener, aptly titled "Origin", represents the beginning of the universe itself, and masterfully depicts it through entropy-fueled shifts (pun not intended) between odd meters. After a slow, cathedral-esque forming of molecules in 11/8 and a more moshy 5/8 chorus, the two sonorities mesh before giving way to an entire new section: skitterish and frenzied bass fills in 7/8. It is this new section that opens the floodgates for a wild and woolly drum solo from Matt, until a light beacon from the synth cues the formation of land underneath Rosfeld's soaring cries. The whole thing is capped off perfectly when the motive from the beginning appears at a much faster tempo, before disintegrating into the still-intact 5/8 mosh theme. The final bass note almost seems to chime as the album cuts directly to the next song, "A Decade Feels Different Every Time". This seems to take the focus from the universe down to humanity, especially our constant need for distraction and "peace of mind" instead giving us information overload.

The next track, "7001", is most definitely my favorite. The bassline is simple yet elegant, the groove is deep, and the vocal line soars as if it were the Angel of Death. In fact, the song may as well be called "I'll see you on the other side of life", considering the drama and memorability of that line, repeated throughout the song. The chorus is a splendid offset, allowing itself to build up and dementedly decay before returning to the verse. Rosfeld also adds some disintegrating computer noises to close the second chorus, a perfect transition to the bridge, during which the floor opens up in terms of rhythm. The bass sound on the bridge is beautifully mastered, and it suits the mood set by Rosfeld's dramatic spoken-word interlude (probably my favorite lyrics too):

Nothing can escape the laws of the universe.

Just as the fruit fly lives and dies

and decays within two months,

so must all things end.

Every particle decays,

every molecule and every galaxy

eventually sucked into the abyss.

All things decay and all things end.

I'll see you on the other side of life.

After the return of the verse and chorus, the end of humanity seems to be signaled by the direct cut into "Cold Summer Haze". Its spot on the album conjures up ironically peaceful images of the last humans to exist, waking up to see the sun rise over a completely motionless lake. (I'm positive I'm taking artistic liberties here.) The next song, "Assemble", most definitely represents this "other side of life", with its robotic bassline and post-apocalyptic setting.

The closer, the eleven-minute epic "In Fields", starts in a melancholy fashion with a synth drone, some wonderfully spare Skaloot bass noodling, and Rosfeld's vocals at their most haunting and seemingly wordless. This introduction is one of my absolute favorite bits of music on the album. Its starkly meditative contrast from much of the album intrigues me enough to want to see where they take it next. When the drums kick in, the narrator mourns the loss of his home, and the musical aura seems to capture the end of time itself. The rock/sea shanty beat here works to update the typical doo-wop/rock ballad groove, as well as adapt it to more serious and mournful subject matter. While the song on its own is great, Rosfeld attempts to draw the album's continuity to a close in a later verse, quoting lines from three of the previous songs, which honestly works. As great as the synthesizer work on the album is, the switch to piano during the final minutes of the album is also a sigh of relief.

I like how this song mirrors the opening "Origins" in its strong contrast of different sections, bookending the album, yet doesn't copy it. As nuanced as both songs are, the length of this track gives it not only more space to breathe, but a more melancholy/contemplative nature; it also serves to parallel "Origins" by instead representing the slow disintegration of life as we know it. The latter especially is emphasized by the appearance of a speech by Dune author Frank Herbert, stressing the importance of sustaining the planet. This move proves just how much SHIFT owes to science fiction in its storytelling and predictions of how life's grim realities will progress in the near future. 

What makes these pieces interesting are the different takes on the verse-chorus-bridge pop/rock formula; the most simplistic in this regard is "Cold Summer Haze", which lacks a bridge, whereas the most expansive are "7001", "Origins", and "In Fields". Furthermore, the pieces benefit from the band's shared knowledge of sound and texture, from each electronic sound to something as subtle as a tiny cymbal reverberating in the beginning of "In Fields". It's not overbearing, either; as artists, they know when to dial it down so that the louder sections work more effectively. What ties everything together is just how beautifully the individual pieces cohere into a large, overarching statement.

I say this not just as a friend of the band, but an admirer of their music: it's promising that they're still quite young and manage to create something with so much depth and maturity. If they make something like this now, imagine what they'll be doing five or ten years from now. No pressure though. Overall, a striking debut from the band. 10/10.

Tracklist:

1. Origins

2. A Decade Feels Different Every Time

3. 7001

4. Cold Summer Haze

5. Assemble

6. In Fields

Further listening:

SHIFT's YouTube channel - the album in its entirety plus a live version of "Assemble". Go to listen to the album; my frenetic chicken scratch descriptions don't do it justice.

The Tristano-Ornette Web, Part 1

Lennie Tristano and Ornette Coleman

If there's anything I've learned, it's that jazz is simply one giant rabbit hole of connections and influences that is expanding even as we speak. Even this lengthy chain (probably closer to a web), drawing together multiple generations and schools of thought, is only a fraction of improvisational/creative music's national, even global presence.

I've been listening to a lot of great music lately, and more than ever I'm realizing just how interconnected all the players and ideas are. There were some people in this post I was listening to and when comparing them, they all had different takes on the same school and aesthetic, and they both knew a lot of the same people. Hence, this could be categorized a smaller web in the vast expanse of this music. First, the source of all modern music:

Charlie Parker

Naturally, this chain would not exist without the massive influence of the titan Charlie Parker. When Bird and bebop entered the scene, it was a musical phenomenon that had never been seen and likely never will be again. That being said, Bird's sound was a logical result of having heard many previous geniuses of the saxophone, primarily Lester Young. However, it has been said that Bird was the equivalent of a Lester Young record sped up; his sheer virtuosity, especially at fast tempos, is still unmatched. Bird and bebop emphasized virtuosity, long, fast musical lines, and advanced harmonic thinking. Despite its outward trappings, though, Charlie Parker's genius came from an emphasis on improvisation: spontaneity and melody, and just making the horn sing. 

It would be an understatement to say that all of music would never be the same again after Charlie Parker. Part of Bird's legacy was his individuality; while he most certainly had influences, he was not an imitator in the slightest. This was helped by his voracious musical appetite, ranging broadly from Stravinsky to country music to everything in between. He also embraced the spontaneity of all the best jazz; this important quality came out of Louis Armstrong, but had diminished towards the end of the Swing Era, when commercial swing bands were the face of the music. Luckily, albeit in a very different way, this spontaneity would be embraced by, among others, a small group of students and their esoteric teacher.

Lennie Tristano

Of the many musicians who played with (and were influenced by) Charlie Parker, one notable example is the idiosyncratic pianist/teacher Lennie Tristano. Before he played with Bird, Tristano had already garnered a reputation as a player and teacher, having acquired among others the young Lee Konitz as a pupil. In this chain, Tristano represents the first major strand that many other musicians follow, that being the emphasis on long, unbroken, Bird-influenced lines that frequently used rhythmic mutations and extended harmonies. However, unlike bebop, Tristano favored a more even, straight-ahead sound and believed in the integrity of the lines themselves, not the emotion they were coated in. (There's also an obvious racial aspect here that cannot be denied, but that's another sermon for another time.)

While Tristano could accurately be viewed as a cult figure, his influence extends far beyond the musical school of thought he promoted. For instance, he often experimented with recording technology, engaging in projects involving overdubbing and manipulating tape speed. He also created the first sessions of free jazz, in which himself, Konitz, and Warne Marsh played without any boundaries of key, tempo, melody, or rhythm; this was released as "Intuition". Not to mention, his mellowed-out approach to lines was a key influence on cool jazz, a genre in which Konitz and Marsh would become leading names in. Perhaps more notably in this regard, Tristano's influence extended over to baritone saxophonist Gerry Mulligan, whose influential quartet with Chet Baker left out chordal instruments altogether to favor laid-back, bop-influenced lines.

Outside of his teachings on improvisation and the indirect influence of his students Konitz and Marsh, not much is discussed about Tristano's influence on other pianists. Perhaps the most well-known example was Bill Evans, whose linear playing was indebted to Tristano, despite a sound that was far more expressive and further indebted to classical composers like Debussy. Not to mention, Evans was one of the first to break open the roles of the traditional rhythm section, allowing more freedom for the bassist and drummer to bounce off each other and himself. In any given recording by Tristano or his students, the bass and drums sound completely stifled.

Even more so than Evans, there would soon be another rising star who was more than ready to drop the commonplace notions of jazz, instead embracing pure melody and group interplay.

Ornette Coleman

There have been few figures in the music as controversial as Ornette Coleman. His 1959 record The Shape of Jazz to Come ushered in a new kind of music, bringing back an emphasis on melodies and group playing. In doing this, Coleman further revolutionized the music by leading a band in abandoning set chord structures completely. Coleman's quartet, in its classic iterations, is one of the most unique groups in all of music. While it was like Gerry Mulligan's quartet in that it contained no chordal instrument, its aim and aesthetics were different altogether. 

Coleman and his front-line partner, trumpeter Don Cherry, boasted sounds that were stark, spontaneous, melodic, and deeply indebted to the blues. Bassist Charlie Haden, while similarly rooted in hillbilly music, was also influenced by Bach and was able to provide ample counterpoint to Coleman and Cherry, creating chord changes in real time. Drummer Billy Higgins and his teacher Ed Blackwell would both play in the band, and their propulsive senses of time and rhythm pushed each player and completed the band's sound. While both drummers are sensational, Blackwell's bouncy New Orleans-influenced drumming is especially satisfying as part of the group. (Coleman's faster pieces also featured Blackwell's penchant for fast tempos.)

from left to right: Don Cherry, Charlie Haden, Ornette Coleman, and Ed Blackwell.

As for Coleman's playing itself, it sounds like if Charlie Parker's horn tried to learn to talk. There's not really a way to accurately describe it in words, other than it takes the music's omnipresent blues element to an entire new level. He mines every single aspect of melody possible, from beautiful soaring phrases to bellowing squawks. He never adhered to chord changes, mostly because he was too concerned with bringing melody into the forefront, a priority of his compositions. It wasn't until he started playing with Don Cherry and Charlie Haden (and in 1967, newcomer Dewey Redman on tenor) that he was finally able to find musicians who would follow what he did, rather than sticking to a strict structural map.

+++

Between Lennie Tristano and Ornette Coleman, there is absolutely no mistaking one for the other. Tristano's icy, rhythmically steady piano lines and Coleman's blues-rooted melodic explorations say all that need to be said. However, their approaches are not strictly unrelated; they are merely two different strands of spontaneity broken off of the influence of Charlie Parker and the beboppers. Tristano reveled in the spontaneity of the pure, unbroken line, and Coleman advanced the freedom of melody, blues, and collective improvisation. Both men, deeply influenced by Bird, were seekers of the truly spontaneous, which brings their otherwise disparate sounds together.

Perhaps the key difference between the two, despite their similar contributions to improvisation, is how they value communication and interplay between the other musicians. As mentioned above, many recordings of the Tristano school in the 1950's involve very little say from the bass and drums. Tristano's improvisation "Line Up", while an experiment in manipulating tape speed, still has that element of playing to a track, which was often the case when he played live with other people. On the other hand, Ornette's music would not be remotely the same without his associates: especially his ideal melodic foil Don Cherry and the man who practically opened up the music, Charlie Haden. In the liner notes to This Is Our Music, Ornette describes what his group does, collective improvisation, as something that had been happening since early jazz.

Paul Bley

On Ornette's first record, Something Else!!!!, he had to deal with a pianist (Walter Norris) who was too used to following changes to truly think about what the rest of the group was doing. However, Paul Bley was one of the few pianists who was able to accurately adapt Coleman's concept to the instrument, especially when Coleman was starting to make a name for himself. In the chain at hand, Bley sits intertwined between Tristano and Coleman. While he was a disciple of Coleman and was able to play with his otherwise-chordless group, his linear playing to me sounds like a freer Tristano. His lines come off as aggressive not necessarily due to touch, but often to the jarring nature of his harmonic choices and chromaticism. Especially notable for its Tristano influence is his harmonically groundbreaking solo on "All the Things You Are" on Sonny Meets Hawk!, with Sonny Rollins and Coleman Hawkins. (Incidentally, like Tristano, I also find Bley's sound to be very cold, especially in his earlier work.)

Paul Bley, left, with Gary Peacock and Pete LaRoca.

Next to Tristano's influence, the Ornette influence is evident as well in Paul Bley with Gary Peacock, a trio outing from 1963 completed by drummer Paul Motian. Bley's aggressively harmonic lines are backed up by the stellar bass & drum duo of Peacock and Motian. Often, Bley acts like a horn player; he often relegates himself to single lines and sits out whenever Peacock solos. Also more indebted to Coleman than Tristano is Bley's willingness to let the musicians play off each other, seeing as he hired two of the most aggressive musicians possible for this date: Peacock played with Albert Ayler and Motian was becoming angsty after playing with Bill Evans for so long.

Perhaps the defining document of Bley's career is the 1963 album Footloose! with Steve Swallow and Pete LaRoca. Aside from Ornette's "When Will the Blues Leave?", all tracks are Bley originals (written either by him or his then-wife, the great Carla Bley). Bley's structural concepts while improvising come from Ornette, carving out space for himself instead of playing changes, but his hard edge and chromatic turns are unmistakably Tristano; the latter qualities could be seen as a means of exaggerating Ornette's approach to the fullest, most dissonant extremes. It definitely worked, for an aspiring young pianist would soon seek to follow this approach...

Keith Jarrett

Keith Jarrett's music would not exist without Ornette Coleman. His piano playing would not exist without Lennie Tristano or Bill Evans. Furthermore, he likely would not have started out how he did were it not for Paul Bley and Footloose!; reportedly, Jarrett's first choice for a bass player was Steve Swallow, but Ornette sideman Charlie Haden would become one of his closest collaborators.

His debut, Life Between the Exit Signs, while not perfect, is an ideal combination of Ornette and Evans, along with a heavy Paul Bley influence, and of course his own ideas and idiosyncrasies. It showcases not only his tendency to abandon changes altogether, but also just how warm and inviting his playing is compared to Bley; on top of everything else, the freshness of Jarrett's approach was enhanced by a tinge of gospel. Much of his early work straddles this entire continuum (the Ornette side was especially showcased when Dewey Redman joined the band), but what surprised me was how it remained so obviously in his abundant later work.

The Jarrett recording that inspired this article was At the Deer Head Inn, recorded in 1992 with Gary Peacock and Paul Motian (the same rhythm section as Paul Bley with Gary Peacock from above). I had been listening to the Paul Bley recording, and I noticed a similarity in Jarrett's playing on this particular recording. While the Tristano/Bley influence is omnipresent in Jarrett's twisting, chromatic/almost-tonal single lines, it's infused with an Ornette-like sense of joy and discovery, accentuated by his notorious vocalizations. This is a perfect document of mature Jarrett, especially evident on his versions of "Solar", "You Don't Know What Love Is", and "Bye Bye Blackbird".

At the Deer Head Inn was also notable for the first and last time Jarrett would play with Motian since his American quartet disbanded in 1976; from 1984 onwards, Jarrett would play jazz exclusively with his Standards Trio featuring Peacock and Jack DeJohnette. Perhaps that makes this recording an anomaly, sparked by the reunion of an old friend, who himself had played everywhere and everything imaginable.

Paul Motian

In 1959, notable altoist Jackie McLean (who had once played with and in place of Charlie Parker) released an album entitled New Soil; it is notable for Pete LaRoca performing the first recorded free-tempo drum solo. Tempo was freed even further by free jazz drummer extraordinaire Sunny Murray, who played with such figures as Cecil Taylor and Albert Ayler. Even Ornette Coleman, who had up to a certain point relied on strict tempos, brought his 10-year-old son Denardo into his band to free up the drums. As less strict rhythms became a gradual trend, who else but someone known for playing with the great Bill Evans was ready to drop steady time at an instant?

Paul Motian is one of the greatest drummers of all time. He was a walking paradox; steeped in tradition while simultaneously breaking open his instrument. Despite having never recorded with Coleman or Tristano, he appears all over this web, having played with Thelonious Monk, Konitz and Marsh, Bill Evans, Paul Bley, and Keith Jarrett; he also notably collaborated with multiple associates of Ornette, especially Charlie Haden. He once subbed for Ed Blackwell in the Ornette troupe's band Old and New Dreams, and he also recorded with them on occasion as the American Jazz Quartet.

Perhaps most significant in this context are his collaborations with Bley and Jarrett, two musicians who had absorbed both Tristano and Coleman and who had their own perspectives on them. While both pianists displayed elements of Tristano to some degree, they were more notably in Ornette's lineage (Jarrett's band had Charlie Haden and later Dewey Redman, and Bley was an Ornette alum himself). Despite playing with Tristano and Evans in the 1950's, it was with Bley and Jarrett that he truly found room to shine. Bley's more aggressive, interactive nature gave Motian an ideal sparring partner coming out of the quieter Evans trio. Perhaps more notably, the folk elements of Ornette that Keith had absorbed allowed Motian not only to finally let loose on the drums, but also to tune his drums as they would be in his native Armenia.

Pat Metheny

One last link in this particular chain is a character unlikely to have been as deep in this lineage as he was. That being said, Ornette Coleman was Pat Metheny's hero. When he and Floridian bassist Jaco Pastorius made their first recording, it was with Paul Bley and it prominently featured Paul and Carla Bley material; when Metheny made his first recording as a leader, the magnificent Bright Size Life on ECM, it featured a medley of two Ornette tunes ("Round Trip" and "Broadway Blues"). At this point in time, it's probably a stretch to claim Metheny was blatantly influenced by Tristano, for by the late 1960's, fusion was at the head of the mainstream; Tristano himself also fell into comfortable obscurity by then. 

What Metheny does share with both Tristano and Coleman is his sheer gift for spontaneity and melody. However, it's safe to say that Coleman is the dominant influence on the Americana sensibility found in Metheny's work. His importance here lies in that after starting the commercially successful Pat Metheny Group (featuring Lyle Mays), he also pursued important projects in the Coleman lineage. 80/81 brings him and contemporary Michael Brecker together with Charlie Haden and Dewey Redman, and bridging the generational gap is Jack DeJohnette. On occasion, Paul Motian would play with the group on tour in place of DeJohnette. The material spans from folksy to free to the purely melodic.

Metheny with the 80/81 band.
From left to right: Michael Brecker, Metheny, Dewey Redman and Charlie Haden.

Perhaps of most paramount importance here is Metheny's Song X, a cooperative effort with his idol Ornette. Haden and DeJohnette return, this time augmented by a now-aged Denardo Coleman. I desperately need to listen to the whole album, but as for right now I can safely say the track "Video Games" is a trip. Metheny (with a saxophone setting on guitar synthesizer) and Coleman make for a great pairing, and their explorations here are a great modern take on the typical Ornette piece. Metheny's demented guitar trek could never be mistaken for a track by the Pat Metheny Group, but the same enthusiasm presents itself here; he even manages to sound melodic behind the dense electronic layers. Ornette's opening high C shows much promise for his solo, which is paid off not only through his joyous explorations, but also through his connection with Haden and especially the fiery DeJohnette. I must go more in-depth into this record later on; it's truly a summit for the ages.

Conclusion: New Blood

In 1993, rising star Joshua Redman released his second album as a leader, Wish, recorded with Pat Metheny, Charlie Haden and Billy Higgins. The year before, he had participated on an album Choices next to his father, Dewey Redman. Joshua Redman was entrenched in the Ornette Coleman legacy, which if nothing else shows itself through his boundless enthusiasm. Moreover, some years after his father's death, he created Still Dreaming, a tribute band for Old and New Dreams featuring other musicians who learned from the original members.

Meanwhile, Redman's contemporary Mark Turner was in search of inspiration, and found it in the twists of Tristano's pupil Warne Marsh. Outside of the Tristano school itself, Turner is likely the highest-profile name to claim inspiration from Tristano's concepts; on his second album as a leader, self-titled (which also features Redman), Turner recorded Tristano's famous "317 E 32nd Street". Turner has also developed one of the most distinctive tenor sax voices of the last thirty years: his tone, both creamy and harshly metallic, emphasizes his odd phrasing and chromatically winding lines. His partnership with guitarist Kurt Rosenwinkel (who spent a period in Paul Motian's Electric Bebop Band) is another one of the great modern pairings in creative music.

This is to say that this particular strand of musical lineage continues to this day; even if nobody remembers their names, the influence of Lennie Tristano and Ornette Coleman will continue to live on through the development of this music. Next time, for Part 2: the more immediate influence of Coleman's legendary Five Spot gig, as well as the after-effects of Tristano's work, are examined.

Further reading:

The Story Behind 80/81 - This is an excellent delve into the landmark meeting helmed by Metheny.

Lennie Tristano at 100 - yet another piece from Ethan Iverson's blog. While commemorating/celebrating the pianist's legacy, Iverson also perfectly analyzes the dense racial history surrounding Tristano. Definitely worth the read.

Further listening:

Lennie Tristano's "Line Up"

Ornette Coleman's "Lonely Woman" - a landmark melody of jazz from Coleman's album The Shape of Jazz to Come.

Ornette Coleman's "Kaleidoscope" from This Is Our Music

A concert by the American Jazz Quartet with Dewey Redman, Charlie Haden, and Paul Motian, and here featuring trumpeter Baikida Carroll - Part 1 and Part 2

Paul Bley's album Footloose!

Pat Metheny's 80/81 and Song X

Joshua Redman's Wish and Mark Turner's self-titled

The Three Cohens play "Line Up" - an example of the longevity of Tristano's ideas. Plus, this transcription is hard enough to play alone - siblings Anat, Avishai and Yuval Cohen all do it together while wandering their hallways.

Spotlight: Paul Motian

(original pronunciation: MOH-ti-en)

(later, preferred pronunciation: MOH-shun, like the word motion)

Paul Motian, while a somewhat undersung figure in the jazz world, nonetheless created his own highly personal sound not only as a drummer, but as a composer and worldbuilder. Many people would recognize his name from notable sessions with the Bill Evans Trio, among them Portrait in Jazz, Explorations, and various live recordings from the Village Vanguard. However, upon closer inspection, Motian's strengths far surpassed his sound in Evans' trio, especially later in his career. Perhaps more notable than his partnership with Evans is his stint with Keith Jarrett's trio and quartet, which lasted over ten years (compared to the five spent with Evans). Moreover, his own groups rarely included a pianist and rather placed emphasis on the guitar; his wonderful working trio highlighted Bill Frisell's iconoclastic spectrum of sounds, and his Electric Bebop Band featured two (sometimes three) different guitarists. His brilliant playing involved subverting time, interesting tone colors (especially on the cymbals), strong group interaction, and tuning the drums in a way that showcased his Armenian heritage.

While many have stated Motian's drumming in the Evans trio sounds stifled, I think it's absolutely beautiful. I agree that it was very much restrained based on what he would do later, but it's the icing on the cake that balances the busier playing of Evans and bassist Scott LaFaro. Not to mention, one can already hear Motian breaking away from typical jazz patterns; this is especially highlighted on ballads, on which he focuses not so much on time as on texture and sound. They also definitely highlight some of the best cymbals of any jazz drummer ever. For a perfect example of this, look no further than Bill Evans' trio playing "My Foolish Heart" at the Village Vanguard, on the album Waltz for Debby:

At the beginning of his career, Motian played with the enigmatic Thelonious Monk. While it seems inconsequential since his stint was brief and there are no released recordings of them together, it actually had a profound impact on Motian's development. Not only did Monk give him some drumming advice, but playing with Monk left an imprint on his entire career; it didn't click with me until very recently that Motian is the Thelonious Monk of the drums. Both were criticized for having poor technique, but both also ended up honing very personal, very jagged, and very spontaneous rhythms; both were also steeped in tradition while simultaneously driving the music into the future. 

One of the first recordings where Motian comes into his own is Trio 64, a Bill Evans album also featuring bassist Gary Peacock. Not surprisingly, this would be Motian's last album with Evans, for reasons Keith Jarrett described: "Bill wouldn't let him use sticks." On "Everything Happens to Me", while Motian still provides lush backing with brushes, he manages to sneak in some sharp counter-attack on sticks. He pushes Evans with a snapping crackle on "A Sleeping Bee", and "Santa Claus is Comin' to Town" (!) showcases the interplay between the two at its best. In particular, Motian finds common ground with Gary Peacock, whose Scott LaFaro-esque acrobatics are pushed to the limit with a feeling of urgency; the pair's chemistry is magical when Evans drops out during Peacock's solos, especially on "A Sleeping Bee". As a musical example, here is, you guessed it:

Past his stint with Evans, as well as a brief time with pianist Paul Bley, Motian was asked to play on Keith Jarrett's first album as a leader. Jarrett recalls what he thought of hearing Motian for the first time:

"Someone had played me an amazing tape of Lowell Davidson playing free with Motian, and I couldn’t believe it was Paul on drums: I had only heard Paul with Bill [Evans] and said, 'Who the hell is that drummer?' When they told me it was Paul, I put that information away in my mental file."

 

To my knowledge, it's also the first recorded outing with Motian and bassist Charlie Haden, which would start a professional and personal friendship lasting over forty years. In general, it's an ode to Jarrett's incredibly rich and nuanced vision that Life Between the Exit Signs is as good as it is, especially for a debut solo album. I've gushed about this trio before (see here), so I'll keep this brief. The album is notable for Jarrett's early knack for more folksy/Ornette Coleman-style music; not only did Haden help accomplish this, being a former employee of Ornette, but now Motian is finally freed from his shackles, with a disposition full of bright sparks. Not only does he fly off the rails on romps such as "Lisbon Stomp" and "Love No. 2", but his experience with Evans also plays into his softer support on "Love No. 1" and Cole Porter's "Everything I Love". Here is the jaunty "Lisbon Stomp", an original of Jarrett's:

Starting in the late 1960's, Motian would find himself in a variety of contexts. Outside of Jarrett's trio (which would later expand into a quartet with reedist Dewey Redman), Motian also played in Charlie Haden's Liberation Music Ensemble, Paul Bley's trio, and with pianist-composer Carla Bley on her epic Escalator Over the Hill; he even played with singer-songwriter Arlo Guthrie at Woodstock.

It was now that Motian gained a reputation for supportive, abstracted group playing in settings with or without a pulse, and in 1972, at 41 years old, he recorded his debut solo album Conception Vessel. Not only does this showcase his sensitive drumming, but also his development up to that point as a composer; he shows a clear influence of Ornette Coleman (and Ornette's associate Dewey Redman) in how he prioritizes melody, but he adds an air of mystery and spiritualism. Some prime examples are the gorgeous opening "Georgian Bay" next to Haden and guitarist Sam Brown, the striking drum feature "Ch'i Energy", and the transcendent title track played as a duet with Jarrett. Also featured are Leroy Jenkins' violin and Becky Friend's flute on the last track, "Inspiration from a Vietnamese Lullaby". Motian's second album, Tribute, is in a similar vein, featuring the return of Sam Brown and Charlie Haden, along with second guitarist Paul Metzke and alto saxophonist Carlos Ward.

Motian's third album as leader, Dance, featured his first regular trio with saxophonist Charles Brackeen and bassist David Izenzon (another associate of Ornette). This stripped-down sax trio setting beautifully showcases Motian's intensely melodic themes and how they can be utilized for improvisation. In this regard, Brackeen is a perfect casting choice for his often-delicate soprano and constant stream of melodic ideas; on the track "Prelude", he switches to tenor and absolutely blows the roof off the place. David Izenzon also makes some positive contributions for his ability to create unusual textures, making for a perfect sparring partner for the subversive Motian. While neither Conception Vessel or Dance are on YouTube, there are a few live recordings of the band from the latter, such as this version of the song "Dance":

Not long after this, Motian would eventually assemble the working band that would gain the most acclaim: his trio with saxophonist Joe Lovano and guitarist Bill Frisell. While the group had recorded as a quintet with a bassist and second saxophonist (on the album Psalm), it was their first trio record, It should've happened a long time ago, where their partnership truly starts to blossom. The heart-aching title track, the nuttiness of "Fiasco", the straight-ahead fire of "In the Year of the Dragon", and the return of "Conception Vessel"; this group leaves an indelible mark on anything it touches. 

The chemistry of this band was so perfect that it would continue operation until Motian's death in 2011. In the meantime, the trio alone would record nine albums, and the lack of a bass player gave them an elastic nature that perfectly fit Motian's musical conception. The often nutty yet pure and melodic sounds from Frisell's guitar, mixed with the Coltrane-steeped explorations from Lovano, perfectly suited Motian's driving, yet fragmented pulse. A perfect showcase for this group is this live performance from 1986, in Lisbon (in particular, listen for "In the Year of the Dragon", Bill Evans' "Twelve Tone Tune Two", and Monk's "Pannonica"):

Starting in the early 90's, apart from the trio, Motian started his Electric Bebop Band, which acted as a way of confronting the music's roots. Besides Motian's own compositions, the band also played bebop tunes by Charlie Parker, Thelonious Monk and Bud Powell, as well as other standards from varying sources. Throughout its existence, the group featured many of the greatest saxophonists and guitarists in the music. In its first iterations, it featured Joshua Redman, Chris Potter, and Kurt Rosenwinkel; more recent members included Ben Monder, Steve Cardenas, Chris Cheek and Tony Malaby.

The sounds the group can get is amazing; often, both guitarists or saxophonists would improvise at the same time. In this performance from 2002, the guitarists form a floating, yet solid wall of harmony before the entire group plays Motian's oblique line ("Look to the Black Wall") in unison. Cheek and Malaby take winding saxophone solos, and the guitar solos from Jakob Bro and Cardenas are equally probing. The solos also highlight something else that made the Bebop Band special: while Motian often churns at the drums and pushes his younger players, he never does so in an overly virtuosic or show-offish manner. Anything he plays is in tandem with the group, and any time he comes out in front is meant to push the group forward.

In summation, Motian epitomizes the trope of the eccentric musician, but to his credit it gives him that much more attention. He also sits next to Miles Davis as one of the most paradoxical musicians in the last 100 years: he had perfect time, but he often abandoned metronomic pulse. He was steeped in American drumming traditions, but he was hellbent on playing what he thought sounded good. As a person, he was direct and often abrasive, but always full of love, and it absolutely seeps into his playing and the way he interacts with whatever group he's in. He insisted on building his own personal musical universe, derived from jazz and folk music among other things, while at the same time he shared and often fully offered the spotlight to the people who played with him. He was the ultimate supporter, but he reveled in the limelight and controversy around his many quirks.

Paul Motian has been a huge inspiration to me as of late, as a musician and risk-taker, and I hope this inspires you to dive deeper into his life's work.

Further reading:

• The Paradox of Continuity: a brilliant essay by pianist and writer Ethan Iverson on Motian's career, written not long after Motian's death.
  
• Ethan Iverson's interview with Keith Jarrett: this is also extremely valuable because among other things, Jarrett discusses his relationship with Motian. Despite Jarrett's European Quartet being more well-known, about half of the interview revolves around the stellar American Quartet in which Motian was featured. (Incidentally, visit here for an in-depth dive into Jarrett's American Quartet discography.)
  
• Reviews of Motian's early ECM discography: these very poetic reviews perfectly translate Motian's ideas into descriptions. While not necessarily containing much criticism, they're fun to read and they offer insight into six of Motian's albums.
  

Further listening:

• Byablue, an album by Keith Jarrett's American Quartet featuring almost exclusively tunes written by Motian
• Motian's drum work with Keith Jarrett's trio and quartet is some of the best drumming of all time. While all of it holds up, a particularly stellar example is on Eyes of the Heart, during the Encores A and B. On Encore A especially, Motian absolutely tears up the kit using only brushes.
• Also check out this NDR concert recording from 1972; the other half was released as Hamburg '72 on ECM in 2014.
  
  
• Much of Paul Motian's discography as leader was released on ECM, and nothing from the label can be found on YouTube anymore unless one upgrades to Premium. So go check it out on Spotify on your own, it's definitely worth it. It's some of the most heart-wrenching music out there.
• Songs and Rituals in Real Time, Tim Berne - Berne is one of my favorite alto players and composers, so it's really a treat to hear him playing with Motian (as well as Motian's on/off bassist Ed Schuller).
• Etudes, under Charlie Haden's name but featuring the brilliant pianist Geri Allen. This group was dynamite, and the ways Allen and the rhythm section play off each other are certainly different from Jarrett or Paul Bley. The group starts with a brilliant cover of Ornette Coleman's "Lonely Woman", and other numbers include group originals and Herbie Nichols' "Montgomery Shuffle". Plus, this is only the trio's first effort: the rest of their work is worth finding.
• Apart from his regular groups, Motian also co-led a trio, Tethered Moon, with pianist Masabumi Kikuchi and former Bley associate Gary Peacock. Motian is in perfect company, since the baand and its members create a kind of paradox: they do not shy away from (and in fact embrace) standards, but any material they do tackle is approached from a very subversive, direct, and somewhat tongue-in-cheek perspective. At least, this is their aesthetic on their self-titled 1992 album chronicling their second session. It is very highly reccommended.
• This redux of "Conception Vessel": this recording is from the year Motian died, but he proves as unrelenting as ever. Here, he supports a talented ensemble with pianist David Virelles, bassist Ben Street, and the singular Mark Turner on tenor. The band deconstructs Motian's theme in the spirit of meditation and introspection that defined its first recording.
• One last thing: go watch the incredible documentary Motian in Motion. It provides anecdotes from many musicians who have played with him, including Chris Potter, Tony Malaby, and Gary Peacock, as well as recorded interviews and asides from Motian himself. The documentary gives extraordinary insight into not only Motian the drummer, but Motian the person and the personality, for he believed them to be one and the same.

 

 

Spotlight: Archie Shepp

I'm gonna try something new here, where instead of reviewing a single album (which I'll still try and do), I will be highlighting individual players whose work sticks out to me. I've been hearing a lot of people lately that fit this description, but a recent example of this is, of course, Mr. Archie Shepp. 

I came across an album of his on Spotify the other day, On This Night, and what struck me outside of the obvious intensity of his playing, was how controlled and lyrical it often seemed as well. On this somewhat early date in Mr. Shepp's discography, his compositions are already highly organized, and his titles seem more akin to someone like Charles Mingus than any free jazz player of the time. Perhaps what makes this album great is the sheer fluidity of this music, how it goes from free-for-all to quiet and composed on a dime. This is helped by the stellar musicianship of the great vibist Bobby Hutcherson and various bassists (Henry Grimes, David Izenzon) and drummers (J.C. Moses, Rashied Ali, and appearances by Ed Blackwell on rhythm logs).

If Shepp was only recognized for his saxophone playing, he would probably still be recognized as a legend. However, what truly defines his music is an emphasis on the global civil rights struggle of his time; this reveals itself on this record in Shepp's poem "Malcolm, Malcolm, Semper Malcolm", a tribute to Malcolm X, and the modern classical-influenced title track, featuring a soprano singing a tribute to activist W. E. B. Dubois. Despite the bluster and gusto of Shepp's playing, his gruff saxophone sound reveals his connection to the tradition, harkening back to Coleman Hawkins and Ben Webster. Jazz: The Rough Guide describes Shepp's stance in the music as "curatorial", always with direct ties to black musical history; he basks in the tradition, but never succumbs to it. Even on this early date, song titles such as "The Original Mr. Sonny Boy Williamson" (referencing the eponymous blues musician) reveals Shepp's insight into the "big picture" of black music and culture.

Archie Shepp was born on May 24, 1937 in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. He was raised in Philadelphia and learned piano, clarinet and alto sax; he also studied theatre in college. After gigging around, switching to tenor and relocating to New York City, he landed a gig with the singular and controversial pianist Cecil Taylor. Soon after, he formed the New York Contemporary Five with altoist John Tchicai, bassist Don Moore, drummer J.C. Moses, and eventually, legendary trumpeter and Ornette Coleman collaborator Don Cherry. Despite Shepp's varied musical background, his experimental bend proved him an exponent of the "New Thing" in the public eye; this view of Shepp only increased when he was under the mentorship of the great John Coltrane.

Shepp was among the many younger players Coltrane took under his wing near the end of his life, the most prominent being fellow tenorist Pharoah Sanders; both played on Coltrane's seminal, controversial piece Ascension in 1965. The year before, Shepp released Four For Trane, an astoundingly mature tribute to his mentor featuring some clever, nuanced arrangements of Trane's music, and focused playing from some of the avant-garde giants at the time. On Syeeda's Song Flute, Shepp engages in a duel of sorts with trombonist Roswell Rudd; Mr. Syms features a clever Eastern-tinged introduction and some understated yet powerful soloing from Wayne Shorter's brother, flugelhornist Alan Shorter; the shimmering arrangement of Naima is wonderfully nuanced, and features more intense solo work from Shepp and Rudd; Cousin Mary swings ahead with Shepp and Shorter before featuring alto player John Tchicai, Shepp's Contemporary Five bandmate who also played with him on Coltrane's Ascension. Throughout, the whole thing is anchored by drummer Charles Moffett and another Coltrane veteran, bassist Reggie Workman.

Throughout this entire album, Shepp carries himself immensely well, coming off as a futuristic Coleman Hawkins on surface level, yet also revealing an already-wide breadth of knowledge and an early maturity. He also displays concepts likely inherited from Trane, but nowhere are they more evident (ironically enough) on the only non-Coltrane composition on the album: Shepp's own "Rufus", which fits oddly well with the other pieces. Despite the authorship, it is here that Shepp displays the most noticable influence from Trane in the layers of sound and sheer intensity of his solo; the song's inclusion on the album seems to symbolize Shepp, through Coltrane's graciousness, being handed a torch that he accepts the responsibility of carrying. 

Shepp (left center) and mentor Coltrane, with producer
Bob Thiele (far right) and pianist McCoy Tyner (far left)
looking on.

This is what sets Four for Trane apart from other tribute or cover albums: it displays Shepp's tendency to view the bigger picture, rather than simply blowing through a bunch of covers. Around this time, Shepp was introduced to the work of Malcolm X, who would become a guiding figure for him throughout his career. To add further context, Shepp was also an accomplished playwright, and around this time he finished his play The Communist; this album is a perfect example of coalescing musical material into a narrative like a playwright would for a play. It shows a much deeper attachment to the music despite, as Shepp himself recalls, the album resulting from a marketing tactic:

"It turns out that John had offered the prospect to record to a then-young saxophone player, Byron Allen, and Byron had known Trane through his brother, or something like that, and Trane had offered him the possibility to record for Impulse. Then he met with Bob Thiele, who had this gimmick he would use. He would tell all the new players — 'Well if you are going to take this option to record that Trane has offered you, you’ve got to play all his music.' Which would usually turn most of these avant gardists away. But I had been a student of Coltrane’s music for years, and I really liked his music..."

Despite the business move at play here, one has no idea of this from simply listening to the recording. Unlike other albums produced for the sake of marketing or reaching a wider audience, here Shepp and company take Trane's themes and abstract and stretch them to their limit, all without compromise. Even this early in his career, it shows Shepp is knee-deep in the tradition, while not becoming completely overshadowed by it. This would be continued in such landmark recordings as New Thing at Newport (double billed with Coltrane), Mama Too Tight, and The Magic of Ju-Ju.

Perhaps Shepp's masterpiece is 1972's Attica Blues, which took on a much grander scale more akin to a Motown recording; brass, strings, burning solos, vocals and poetry all combine into a portrait of Shepp as an orchestrator, worldbuilder, and civil rights activist. The album features a variety of musical styles and orchestral colors that give Shepp's perspective on civil rights much more weight. Attica Blues could also be seen as a successful attempt to continue the legacy Shepp started as a free musician, rather than have it dim out as much of the free jazz movement had.

Despite the above statement, from the opening strains the album proves to be quite accessible. The title track could easily be mistaken for an act such as Sly and the Family Stone (incidentally, it's worth noting that this album predates Herbie Hancock's Headhunters by a year). I believe Shepp makes the unusual aesthetic choices he does here in order to grab, and successfully keep, the listener's attention in order to reveal the deeper meaning contained. Aside from the title track, there's "Steam", a two-part track featuring a beautiful vocal melody with some colorful harmonies, later revealing a harder edge with dual violin and soprano sax soloing. "Blues for Brother George Jackson" at first sounds akin to a Mancini film score, but during the solos the percussion adds a shuffling, boiling rock energy. "Quiet Dawn", a tune by trumpeter/composer Cal Massey draws on bossa nova and traditional jazz, and features vocals by Massey's young daughter Waheeda.

This is also another fine example of Shepp the musical playwright, whose skill at crafting a deeply personal narrative is honed further on this album. Besides just music, the album also features poems (invocations) written by drummer Beaver Harris, and many of the other songs have evocative and attention-grabbing lyrics. This turns Attica Blues from an already outstanding collection of music into a narrative both personal and made for a wider public. The time of its release is significant, since it was meant to be a response to the Attica prison riots (Charles Mingus composed one such song of his own), but the message is not inherently political. Nor is it naïve dotings of "why can't everyone just get along?" It is often deeply poetic and profound, such as in "Ballad for a Child", featuring the lyric "what the whole world really needs is a baby's smile." Incidentally, during the same year, Shepp finished a play in collaboration with Massey entitled Lady Day: An American Tragedy, chronicling the life of Billie Holiday. It's fascinating that one of his more known plays surfaced the same year as what many consider his finest musical narrative.

On the other end of the spectrum is Shepp's 1976 live sax trio album Steam, featuring bassist Cameron Brown and drummer Beaver Harris. The chordless trio setting gives Shepp plenty of room to let loose, but it's interesting that most of the tracks are jazz standards like Duke Ellington's "Solitude" and Charlie Parker's "Ah-Leu-Cha". Something that intrigues me about Shepp is how he presents himself; while he donned traditional African clothes early in his career, like many of his peers, nowadays he mostly wears relatively plain, yet suave three- or four-piece suits. I mention that here because this album, Steam, seems to signify Shepp donning his "straightahead" clothes in terms of repertoire. Instead of many avant-players' attempts at playing straight-ahead that are mostly one-off attempts, such as Anthony Braxton's curious In the Tradition albums, Shepp's forays into traditional jazz act as heartfelt tributes that also expand his personal artistic vision. Here, he does not let the changes (or sometimes even forms) dominate how he navigates the tunes. Instead, he charges ahead with a force that colors him tempted to abandon the song altogether, even though he never quite gets there.

The two original tracks are Cal Massey's "A Message from Trane" and Shepp's own "Steam", seen also on Attica Blues and dedicated to Shepp's cousin who was killed in a street fight at age 15. The latter is particularly full of fervor from Shepp, perhaps from its solemn dedication or from more personal musical material. Both tunes serve to highlight that Shepp and his peers are not that far detached from what people are used to hearing; if anything, they are forging a direct continuation of it. Here, his message is made clear by implying that his music is no different from the products of composers as Duke Ellington or Charlie Parker, who themselves were label-defying, boundary-pushing musical adventurers.

The debonair Archie Shepp.

This is what sets Shepp the traditionalist apart from modern neo-traditionalism: his acknowledgement of tradition does not hinder, but rather expands and informs his already-solidified individual voice. This makes it more apparent that what he plays is intrinsically connected to those who came before him, paving the way for new, younger blood in the future. A perfect example of this comes from Shepp's most recent album Let My People Go, a collection of duets with pianist Jason Moran released just last year. If there's anything to be noticed up front about this music, it's that age has done very little to hold Shepp back. His tenor playing, previously evocative of an erupting volcano, has now simmered to boiling lava, still featuring sparks aplenty. Moran proves an able duet partner, showing restraint and thought, but bursting with color when required; he also shares a similar "big-picture" viewpoint with Shepp, having been involved with art galleries and multimedia projects. The particular track I want to look at is the pair's take on Billy Strayhorn's iconic ballad Isfahan.

Before the pair are even shown in this video, the atmosphere is perfectly established by Shepp's breathy, delicate but heavy sound and Moran's sensitive backgrounds. When the pair comes into view it's not at all surprising; from the color palette and cinematography to Shepp's elegant suit and fedora, it's very nearly a tribute to film noir. Musically, both ends deliver a tour-de-force of intimate duet playing with each player serving equal importance. Moran delivers some inspired responses to Shepp's phrases, especially when the heat turns up, and Shepp leaves plenty of space in his playing for Moran to contribute; despite the moments of intensity, neither player is overshadowed by the other. It's also worth mentioning that neither player strays much from the melody; if anything, their music comes from reinterpreting and abstracting it. Throughout, the melody is the constant string that keeps the listener's attention, giving Shepp and Moran plenty of wiggle room for some very inspired moments, especially during Shepp's last turn on the melody.

To sum up, creating this post has increased my respect and admiration for Mr. Shepp. At 84 years old, he is one of the few creative musicians in his age group who has not yet run out of steam. His wide-reaching global/sociopolitical perspective is very inspiring for those who wish to pursue music as a form of storytelling and reflecting the world the way one sees it. Mr. Shepp's playing is also very inspiring to me for its reflection of so many different styles and periods, perhaps suggesting that style is both everything and nothing. Shepp perfectly encapsulates the age-old quote, "be the change you wish to see in the world." I truly hope you find as much inspiration in Mr. Shepp's work as I have.

Epilogue

Mr. Shepp has a very expansive discography, which consists mostly of his own records; hence, what I have highlighted here doesn't begin to capture the many directions his career has taken. Besides the albums I've listed already, here are some more you should check out:

• Archie Shepp + New York Contemporary Five - This is among Shepp's finest early work, featuring him alongside such giants as John Tchicai and Don Cherry.
• The Magic of Ju-Ju - This was the first Shepp album I ever heard. I stumbled across it somehow freshman year of high school and I thought his playing was amazing; now that I better understand it, it's still amazing. Highlights include "Sorry 'Bout That" and the scintillating title track.
• Montreux One - Here is documentation of Shepp's middle-career phase, confronting more straightahead material such as "Lush Life" and his own "U-Jamaa". 
• Hi-Fly (Karin Krog) - Besides vocalist Krog, Shepp is the main soloist and gets co-star billing. This front-line pairing proves to work quite well on such tunes as Shepp's "Steam", Randy Weston's title track, and an old favorite of this blog, Carla Bley's "Sing Me Softly of the Blues".

Furthermore, here are some links to some great interviews with Mr. Shepp that I used in part for this article:

• Archie Shepp: Four for Trane (Rant and Dawdle)
  
• "I'm Constantly Striving": Archie Shepp in Conversation (Tidal)