THE GIG

Trillium in Bloom

Photo by Kyoko Kitamura

This week brings the Tri-Centric Festival, an omnibus showcase for composer-multireedist Anthony Braxton, at the new Roulette in Brooklyn. I wrote a piece previewing the event, after spending some time with Braxton recently, and much more time with his music. 

One thing I’d been wondering about was whether Braxton sensed a greater acceptance of his music in recent years, after the warm glow of Wesleyan’s season-long tribute in 2005; the subsequent release of major multi-disc sets like The Complete Arista Recordings and 9 Compositions (Iridium) 2006; and the ardent testimonials of his disciples. Well, that doesn’t seem to be the case.

Braxton ordered a glass of white wine as we sat down to our interview, and proceeded not to touch it for the next hour. He’s an energetic conversationalist, quick to oblige any request for clarification. Here’s what he had to say about misperceptions surrounding his work:

On Women in Jazz (Criticism)

This month’s column tackles the subject of female jazz criticism, and especially the lack thereof — not a new issue by any stretch, but one worth considering anew. I’m not going to rehash my argument here, but I’d like to expand on one aspect of it. What initially motivated the column was the recent publication of Out of the Vinyl Deeps: Ellen Willis on Rock Music, which I urge any reader to purchase, like, now.  

Circuits Assembly

Some bands, with their interpersonal dynamic, give the impression of cold efficiency. Others seem to be just barely holding it all together. My Morning Jacket embodies a preferable third option: nothing but warmth, and a conviction that music-making still largely comes out of a hang. Last month I visited the band’s hometown of Louisville, Ky., on business, and plugged into their vibe firsthand. We talked a lot about Circuital, their intensely cohesive new album, and how it came to be.

Hearts and Valves

Joe Kohen for The New York Times

I first heard Ambrose Akinmusire sometime during his Steve Coleman Apprentice Phase -- every young musician of his ilk seems to have one -- sometime in the last decade. (Could it have been around this time? I dunno. Maybe.) Whatever specific impression he made has faded, but I do recall filing his name away for future ref.

As for the first time I really heard Ambrose Akinmusire, that’s clearer. It was during the 2007 Thelonious Monk International Jazz Competition, which I covered in Los Angeles. During the semifinals there were 10 competitors, each playing a few pieces with an expert house rhythm section. Almost everyone sounded good, but Akinmusire took his game further, pushing with poise through Wayne Shorter’s “Fee Fi Fo Fum” and then making the unusual decision to play “Stablemates” as a trumpet-piano duet. (The house pianist, so to speak, was Geoffrey Keezer.) He was moving out on the proverbial limb, and backing up every risk with results. It’s fair to say that I was floored.

That moment always returns fresh when I get to contemplating Akinmusire, as I do in this weekend’s piece. It’s not just about the trumpet playing, inventive and surefooted as it may be. It’s about the urge to connect with his band mates -- even when they’re not really his band mates but rather an all-star combo (Keezer, bassist Reginald Veal, drummer Carl Allen) working toward a functional end. 

Obviously I think you hear that commitment clearly on When the Heart Emerges Glistening, Akinmusire’s new Blue Note debut. What I wanted to stress in the piece was the idea that he could lean heavily on a collective ideal without easing up on his prodigious gifts. The magnanimity doesn’t trump the prowess, or vice-versa. 

Kurt Elling on Youth, Critics

This month’s cover story for JazzTimes, re: singer Kurt Elling, has been excerpted online. There’s way more insight behind the paywall, so if you like what you see, please go buy a copy, or swipe one from your neighbor. Meanwhile, I thought I’d expand on just one (major) aspect of the piece here, having to do with his thoughts on artistic maturity and its antipode, callow youth. 

Elling is nothing if not a self-reflective artist, and soon after we sat down he was musing on his stature vis-à-vis jazz’s critical establishment. The tide had been turning for him in that regard, especially since the generally acknowledged triumph of his Coltrane-Hartman album, Dedicated to You, in 2009. But what Elling seemed eager to talk about were his detractors, some of whom he felt had formed their opinions early on.* Here is some of what he said:

Dialogues with Danilo

The cover story in the new issue of JazzTimes is about pianist, composer and educator Danilo Pérez, whose Grammy-nominated album Providencia captures much of the sweeping energy of his recent creative life. I went to Boston in the fall for Pérez’s album-release gig at Scullers, and then spent a few engaging hours at his well-appointed home in Quincy, Mass. (That link leads you to a preview; the full piece, which I obviously endorse, is only available in print.)

I saw this piece as something more than the story of Providencia; by my reckoning, 2010 marked the end of a momentous decade for Pérez. If you were paying attention in 2000, you may recall that it was the year of Motherland, and also the year Pérez joined Wayne Shorter’s new quartet. In the years since, he had served as the cultural ambassador for his native Panama, and started a festival there. 

Pérez is a great interview: responsive and generous, unguarded, quick to seize on a suggested premise. What struck me about our conversation was how frequently it kept returning to Shorter, without very much encouragement on my part. Pérez’s affiliation with Shorter has been transformative, opening new spaces in his playing and realigning the public’s perceptions of his art. Rudresh Mahanthappa, the saxophonist featured on Providencia, told me that when he first heard Pérez, in the late 1990s, he initially chalked it up to high-level Latin jazz. “But when I saw him with Wayne,” Mahanthappa said, “that’s when I realized that his palette was so wide.” 

Skeletons / Closet

 

Ahem.

Sleepless in Seattle

The Seattle jazz scene, insofar as such a thing can be responsibly encapsulated, is the subject of this feature in Arts & Leisure, due out in print this weekend. A few days ago I also sat down for a conversation with Ben Sisario, for the NY Times Popcast (via the ArtsBeat blog).

My focus was on the high school, collegiate and post-collegiate level, where I see real changes taking place. (The photo above is from a scene depicted in the piece: Riley Mulherkar earning some comically expressive respect from a certain fellow trumpeter. Shaky video here.) I won’t expand much further on my basic thesis, since it’s all up in the piece. But some additional context might be nice. Shall we?

City to the Country

 

 That’s me interviewing singer-songwriter Tracy Bonham at the Beacon Riverfest a couple of weekends ago, for this profile in Arts & Leisure. I think it’s the only image of its kind that I’ve seen. (I didn’t know we were even being watched until Tony Cenicola, the excellent New York Times photographer assigned to the piece, sent me a copy.)

A big part of the story here involves life after the majors. Bonham had a monster radio hit in 1996, which sent her debut into gold-album territory (and resulted in “a lot of baseball caps in the crowd” at her concerts). These days she’s running the equivalent of a shoestring operation -- or a sustainable organic farm, if you want to flog a metaphor more suitable to her Hudson Valley homestead. Here she is talking about the adjustment; as a bonus, the clip ends with a Metro-North train whistle (and the voice of the aforementioned Tony):

Wrongs and Rights

My column in the July/August JazzTimes (not online, alas), concerns music publishing, an issue of stealth importance today. To parrot a dry but earnest line from my own self: “At a time when most jazz musicians are composers, and other sources of income are dwindling, music publishing may be the one area with growth prospects.” Given the thrust of some recent bloggery, it seems a good notion to revisit.

Jazz musicians have long paid the price for inattention to their publishing. In some cases, it’s a matter of ineffectual policing. You may know, for instance, what happened with Thelonious Monk’s most oft-recorded composition, “’Round Midnight.” After it had been introduced to Cootie Williams, the song was filed for copyright with three names on the certificate: Monk, Williams and lyricist Bernie Hanighen. “Consequently,” writes Robin Kelley, “Hanighen and his estate receive a third of the royalties from every version of ‘’Round Midnight’ produced. And in turn, the original composer and his estate receive only a third of the royalties -- to this very day.” Got that?

But let’s set aside the Big Fish example from a bygone era. Most present-day jazz musicians will never write a “’Round Midnight” -- and that shouldn’t at all diminish their interest in the publishing game. In the column, I seek illumination on that point from Dan Coleman, whose publishing-administration company, “A” Side Music, works with the likes of Maria Schneider, Brad Mehldau and Billy Childs. (More on him in the comments.) I also consult with two publishing-savvy musicians, bassist Ben Allison and keyboardist Larry Goldings.