THE GIG

Still Room for More

Part Four of a year-end email conversation with Angelika Beener, Aaron Cohen, Joe Tangari and K. Leander Williams. (Jump to: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 )

From: Joe Tangari

Hello everyone.

 I’m enjoying the conversation a lot so far. The spirit in here is infectious. Thanks for inviting me, Nate, and I’m honored to be in on the exchange with such a fine group of writers and thinkers.

I want to start by picking up the thread of jazz and genre, and I think Esperanza Spalding is a great lens through which to do it.

 The first time I ever heard Esperanza Spalding, it was on an album called Happy You Near, by a band called Noise for Pretend, of which she was the bassist and primary vocalist. It was released on the Hush label, which for years paired its logo with a quick tag line that simply said “anti-rock.” This was 2002 (The Grammy Awards often stretch the definition of “New Artist” to the breaking point), and I wrote about the record for Pitchfork.

 There are plenty of hyphenates you could throw at that album (I certainly did), but at its heart, it’s an indie pop album. When Spalding talks about where she comes from as a musician, she’s filtering her response through a career that started with her playing in Portland’s indie rock scene.

 I don’t think it’s possible to have a “pure” lineage no matter what kind of music you’re playing — even Nicholas Payton admits he’s playing “post-modern New Orleans.” If there’s a more ambiguous term than post-modern, let me know. Human beings are synthesizers — we blur together our DNA and the experiences of our lives into a personality, or a soul, if you prefer. It’s tough not to get a little Hollywood in your New Orleans growing up in such a media-saturated world.

 I tend to side with Aaron in thinking that, on the creative side, jazz is just fine, and perhaps in better shape now than it has been in a long time. He reeled off a long list of albums he loved this year, and I don’t disagree with any of it.

 Aaron also mentioned that jazz’s siege mentality doesn’t seep into Chicago as much as it does New York. Part of the reason for this may simply be that Chicago, of all cities, is probably the one where the walled garden of genre has been most thoroughly obliterated. Since the 1990s, it’s been routine for guys like Fred Lonberg-Holm and Rob Mazurek to show up on records by bands that are putatively rock artists (or post-rock, if you like). Jason Adasiewicz is a fantastic jazz vibist. He was also a member of the indie rock/loop folk group Pinetop Seven for years.

 There’s a to-and-fro in that city’s music scene that really does create the “open field” effect that Nate mentioned in his introductory post. And I think the field is only going to open more and more, and that will happen everywhere as time goes on.

 As an example, some of what is, to me, the most exciting jazz going today is being made by Indian and Pakistani-American musicians, and in particular by Vijay Iyer and Rudresh Mahanthappa. They are making music with dual (at the very least) ancestries, and it’s opened up a whole new avenue for innovation. Indian music and jazz have been meeting on record for a long time — Joe Harriott & John Mayer’s 1966 Indo-Jazz Fusions LP comes to mind — but this new music is less an on-the-surface meeting and more a true combination of distinct traditions.

 Tirtha, Iyer’s album with Indian-born guitarist Prasanna and tabla player Nitin Mitta, is one of the most harmonically interesting records I heard this year for the way it combines Western and Carnatic harmony. And I’m not sure what you’d call Mahanthappa’s “Parakram #2,” from his recent album Samdhi. I would never say it’s not jazz, but Mahanthappa is credited with alto sax and laptop on the album, and that song in particular does some crazy things with manipulating the group performance.

 We’ve come a long way since people got angry at Lennie Tristano for overdubbing, but I can see how some people who are holding on tight to a narrow definition of what they feel jazz should be could be thrown for a loop by that. Seems like a sad world to live in, though. The expansion of that definition is what gave us the thrilling Live at the South Bank, the record Steve Reid and Mats Gustafsson made with British electronic artist Kieran Hebden (aka Four Tet) just before Reid’s death. I turned in a few top tens this year, and that album was in all of them.

 Angelika makes a good point about how multi-faceted the conversation has become — these debates are never settled. They don’t lead us to some end point in the conversation where things are wrapped up. They fan the flames of ideas for the next phase of conversation. I think the diversification of the music reflects the diversification of the conversation — there are more voices in both rooms, and there’s still room for more.

 So does jazz need a savior? I don’t think so. Besides, people waiting for saviors often end up waiting a very long time.

Another Slice of Pi

Ruby Washington / The New York Times

There was plenty of good information, and at least one terrific cosmic gag, that couldn’t make it into today’s feature about Pi Recordings. Some of that material was too granularly, and would have been a drag on the flow of the piece. Some of it was of dubious interest to a civilian readership. But you’re here now, so let’s get into it, after the jump. 

Tribal Wisdom

Critic's Choice: New CDs

Vijay Iyer, Prasanna, Nittin Mitta, “Tirtha”

Cracking the Mossy Stone

 

 Let’s just say it, people: the jazz internet has a contemporizing bias. Trawl the blogs, cop the tweets, and you might mistakenly conclude that most partisans of this music are anti-essentialists, allergic to strict guidelines, always up for something new. But that’s simply not the case, which is one reason for this month’s column in JazzTimes. For some time, I had been musing over an ascendant strain of “jazz traditionalism” that embraces the mid-century modern axis (Shorter, Hancock) but excludes some recent fissures (Lehman? Moran?).

 So what do I do, then: coin a new term of disparagement? Please, don’t let that be the case. I embarked on my mossy trail with open heart and earnest mind. (Of course I also hope the damn thing is a fun read.) The recent spate of jazz obituaries -- for guitarist Herb Ellis*, pianist John Bunch and critic/trombonist Mike Zwerin, if we’re keeping to a two-week radius -- has only renewed my conviction as a mossy-stone adjunct, a sympathetic soul. But not, I suppose, a true believer.

Advanced Studies

 File under: self-promotion, duologue, pianism. This weekend I will be in Princeton, N.J. for a pair of concerts featuring Vijay Iyer and Craig Taborn. The two pianists, former section-mates in the superb new-music ensemble Roscoe Mitchell’s Note Factory, will perform back-to-back solo sets, followed by new works for duo piano. To quote from the program notes: “Both pianists share an enthusiasm for structural rigor and rhythmic precision, but also maintain a more gestural, interpretive and intuitive approach to improvisation.”

 The event(s) comes courtesy of the Institute for Advanced Study, a center for theoretical research with a distinguished history. (Einstein is among the more prominent former faculty.) Iyer and Taborn are appearing at the invitation of composer Derek Bermel, the Institute’s current Artist-in-Residence. My contribution will be a post-concert conversation on Friday and a pre-concert talk on Saturday.

Tickets are free, but way gone. (I’m told that the waiting list is substantial.) No word on whether this collaboration will yield a future spate of bookings, but as precedent has taught us, it could happen.

JazzFest Reflections

 

 The Winter JazzFest has come and gone, with more firsthand testimonials than anyone could hope to digest. You’ve probably already read Ben Ratliff’s excellent review, which captures some of the weekend’s heady excitement. (I was lucky enough to make it inside for that sardine-packed Claudia Quintet set. Amazing stuff; hoping for coverage from Jim Macnie and Hank Shteamer, whom I saw there.)

 I took an unpressured, leisurely approach to the festival, which was a nice indulgence. Heard the Vijay Iyer Trio, which met high expectations, and the duo of Jenny Scheinman and Jason Moran, which exceeded them. Had my first, satisfying taste of Mike Reed’s People, Places and Things. And while I was sorry to miss a lot of stuff -- including a late set by Jamie Saft’s Whoopie Pie, pictured above (in a photo by Greg Aiello) -- there was plenty of music to go around.

 And plenty of hang time, which was what really made the Winter JazzFest feel, y’know, festive. Maybe my recent introduction to the Twitterverse is playing some role here, but the weekend felt extremely connected to me. (This is one reason I’m sorry to have missed a pertinent APAP / Jazz Journalists Association panel on Sunday. It was squarely on my agenda, but other plans interfered.) In any case, I’m not just talking about virtual connections. It was the whole vibe, which bassist Ben Allison hits on in a blog recap:

The venues were cleared of tables and chairs. People stood, packed together. It was hot and sweaty inside (despite the sub-zero temperatures outside). People talked and laughed and yelled in appreciation of the music, hanging on every note. They applauded not just at the end of solos like they were taught in “jazz appreciation class,” but whenever they felt like it -- during interesting transitions, when a cool groove emerged, when the intensity of a performance changed. It all felt very organic, very musical.

I’d echo those sentiments exactly. So now, a question: how to sustain this high? There’ll be no less jazz around the city next week, and the week after that. (OK, maybe a little less.) I’d love to see the energy and passion of Winter JazzFest all year-round. Could happen.

Someone's Tradition, Anyway

Part Seven of a year-end email conversation with Andrey Henkin, Peter Margasak, Ben Ratliff and Hank Shteamer. (Jump to: 1 | 2 | 3 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 )

From: Peter Margasak

I think that Vijay Iyer quote sorta summed up many of the things I far less articulately attempted to express in my earlier bit. I’d like to think that everyone shares his opinion, but I’m afraid there is a generational schism; I’m sure plenty of folks would agree with his statement in theory, but reality is a different can of worms. Anyway, I think Nate’s point rings true. As the decade comes to a close this openness isn’t such a big deal, and I’m glad that’s the case. Jason Moran does indeed represent this kind of thinking as much as anyone during the previous ten years. 

Looking back on the previous exchanges it seems that a few of us really focused on music that was smashing those boundaries at the expense of more traditional practitioners of jazz. I’d say great new records by everyone from Von Freeman (above) to John Hollenbeck to Matt Wilson are all in the tradition -- someone’s tradition, anyway -- and they brought me as much pleasure as any other record this year. Hell, I loved Anthony Coleman’s rather conservative spin through the music of Jelly Roll Morton on Freakish.

And while I big upped Chicago, I think there are fascinating things happening all over the country, and, of course, the globe. My beloved Chicago Reader ran a pretty good piece this week about a Thai pop singer that discusses the futility of year-end lists because there’s always more that we don’t hear. Writer Noah Berlatsky ends the piece with, “Whether or not I download that Yeah Yeah Yeahs album, the world is still going to be bigger than my list. Which is a reassuring thought.” Amen.

The Oughts, Meet the Dustbin

Part Six of a year-end email conversation with Andrey Henkin, Peter Margasak, Ben Ratliff and Hank Shteamer. (Jump to: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 )

From: Nate Chinen

 

Hey guys,

I was supposed to come up with the next link to this chain over the weekend, but snowfall and football turn out to be wicked procrastination-boosters. I do have some thoughts, though, beginning with this quotation:

“When you look at the history of jazz, everybody who made significant contributions to that music never really saw it as a kind of music. Anybody who can shed that preconception of what jazz is or is not, or should be or shouldn’t be, and can just approach it as human endeavor, I think will find something to resonate with here.” -- Vijay Iyer  (via EPK )

The polls and picks are mostly in, and it looks like Iyer just might have had the consensus choice for best jazz album of 2009. Ben, you had his Historicity as your top dog, irrespective of genre (more on that in a sec). A casual perusal of the 50 JazzTimes critics’ ballots shows that only one voter, editor-in-chief Lee Mergner, had it quite so high -- but also that it appears on 12 total ballots, the same tally as Joe Lovano’s Folk Art, which came in just ahead at #1. 

I’m no numbers-cruncher, so I won’t pursue that gauntlet further. But I’ll gladly pick up another one, the one Iyer throws down in his statement above. Throughout this roundtable so far, we’ve heralded artists who make their way without most of the old hang-ups, ducking the heavy drag of genre obligation. 

Reflecting on that fact this weekend, I got to thinking about this first decade of the new century, and what it has meant for jazz, in some loose sense. Others have done this recently, including my man David Adler, who provides a kind of personal tour on his blog. Over at the Slate Music Club, my model for this email exchange, there was a subplot concerning the best handle for the 2000s, which has been known in some starchy circles as “the Aughts.” Carl Wilson kicked around a few ideas, settling on “the Singles” -- part nod to “Single Ladies,” part acknowledgment of the iTunes-abetted devaluation of the album. But since that trend doesn’t really apply to jazz, here’s another possible option: “the Oughts.” (Indulge me here for a minute, guys.)

 Remember how this decade began? So much agita over definitions! On the one hand we had imposing cultural arbiters (right) telling us what jazz ought to be: blues-based, swinging, firmly rooted in the African-American idiom. On the other hand, there was the countervailing response, which spoke to a Balkanization of jazz, literally and figuratively (cf., the Knitting Factory). At that end of the spectrum, the thinking was that jazz ought to be open-ended and exploratory, not so serious all the time. (Maybe their version was the Naughts, or the Nots.) Of course this is a wildly reductive take on the “jazz wars,” itself a wildly reductive term. 

The point is that we can now survey the Oughts in terms of a cycle of action and reaction. For much of the last decade, jazz was a pendular protectorate, swinging (or not) back and forth between entrenchments, toward some contested new center of truth. Look at Historicity -- or, for that matter, at Folk Art, which resides so comfortably in today’s modern mainstream only because that center has shifted. (Whether we can all admit it is another story.)

I’m not saying that Lovano is inventing a new syntax, or even that Folk Art is more “adventurous” somehow than, say, Congo Square. (We could play this game all day.) But I am indeed arguing that the “preconception of what jazz is or is not, or should be or shouldn’t be,” to borrow Iyer’s formulation, has buckled enough to allow for a wealth of new shoots coming up through the cracks. And there’s no zero-sum game anymore: you can dig Håkon Kornstad and Joe Lovano, the Bad Plus and James P. Johnson, Wynton and Dave. 

If I had to designate a jazz artist of the decade, it would probably be pianist Jason Moran, who has gone out of his way, again and again, to deal with jazz tradition in an honest and personal way. (No accident that Moran is the present-day artist who closes Jazz, the new Giddins-DeVeaux book. Marsalis held down that spot in Jazz, the Ken Burns film and ultimate Oughts artifact.)

There’s one more thing to be said about Moran and Iyer -- and Iverson, whom we’ve also invoked, and Darcy James Argue, whom I can’t believe we haven’t. Each of these musicians has taken it upon himself to articulate his own ideas: about his music, about his influences, and about much more besides. Hank, you shouted out Iverson’s interviews at Do The Math; I’m guessing you’ve already seen his latest bit of jazz criticism too? And has everybody read Iyer on Monk (and physics!), Steve Lehman on spectral music, and Argue, just today, on Bob Brookmeyer? Hard to keep up with it all, right? And just think, we haven’t even gotten to Wynton’s Facebook notes. Has there ever been more transparency, more dialogue, more open-source debate, in all of jazz history? 

I’ll end with a photo: the Vijay Iyer Trio backstage at Newport this summer, with drummer Billy Hart and WBGO producer-host Josh Jackson. What’s good about jazz in 2009? You’re looking at it. One facet of it, anyway.

 

That’s it for my hand in the roundtable, fellas. I’ll pass the aforementioned gauntlet your way, keeping in mind that the holidays loom. Farewell to the Oughts and all that; Hello to whatever’s rounding that corner!

Top 10 Albums of 2009

Free Jazz, Futurism, Funk and Ferocity

Well, here it is. More thoughts, comments, provocations next week, when the year-end critics’ roundtable goes in for another spin.

Midwest Represent: Scrambling Purity, Fiercely Independent

Part Three of a year-end email conversation with Andrey Henkin, Peter Margasak, Ben Ratliff and Hank Shteamer. (Jump to: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 )

 

From: Peter Margasak

 

 

Dear Nate, Ben, Andrey and Hank,

I’ll echo Hank’s delight in engaging in this exchange. Turning back to Nate’s question about Esperanza and Babs... only the former strikes me as truly noteworthy, but I’m disappointed that Obama keeps inviting back the same musician. It’s exciting to see jazz get such a platform, but there are plenty of other worthy (dare I say, far more interesting) folks that should get the call from here on out.

I’m happy that the Lewis went into paperback this year, further extending its impact. As the sole participant here that doesn’t live in New York, I’m always happy to see Chicago get some props, even if Lewis and Threadgill haven’t lived here in decades; the city’s fiercely independent spirit lives on, certainly through the music of Lehman and Iyer (who, along with Threadgill, all landed in my top five albums). While big name organizations in Chicago, from the city-sponsored Jazz Festival to Symphony Center, draw the local media attention, what really matters in this city is increasingly the responsibility of musicians. All but one of the presenters behind Umbrella Music -- a loose constellation of three strong weekly series -- is a musician, and this year they curated their best festival yet, and probably the most exciting week in the city’s adventurous music calendar. These guys know that no one is going to give them anything for nothing, so they tend the garden themselves, and it’s been paying off.  

   It’s also nice to see some of the best groups from Chicago -- Josh Berman’s Old Idea, Jason Adasiewicz’s Rolldown, James Falzone’s Klang, Mike Reed’s People, Places & Things -- getting noticed by New Yorkers. I’m still thrilled and mildly shocked that Ken Vandermark (right) played some gigs in a quartet with Eric Revis, Jason Moran, and Nasheet Waits a few months back.

I suppose related to the early achievements of the AACM is the continued scrambling and/or disregard to any kind of purity, whether it’s a drummer like Tyshawn Sorey writing post-Feldman guitar music or the wonderfully bizarre amalgam of heavy metal, cracked bluegrass, and shambling funk by the Seabrook Power Plant. Maybe this is an irrelevant point as the present decade comes to its conclusion, but I’m consistently encouraged and excited as the flung open doors are torn off their hinges and the openings keep widening. Why the hell not? The problem with this reality in our profession (knock on wood that I can keep calling it that) is that more and more music falls off the “jazz” map, meaning that the radars of so many writers only go so far -- present company excluded, natch -- so that lots of the most interesting stuff, especially if it’s produced outside of New York, is largely invisible. Most jazz from outside of the US suffers the same problem -- if we don’t hear great music from Germany (Die Enttäuschung, pictured below; Christian Lillinger), Sweden (Jonas Kullhammar, Alberto Pinton) or Japan (Akira Sakata, Otomo Yoshihide) does that mean it doesn’t exist? And that’s always the rub about year-end considerations -- I mostly get frustrated about the music I still haven’t heard rather than rating the records I have.

 

 

So many records, so many shows, so many musicians. Although I don’t want to reopen the Terry Teachout jazz is dead can o’ worms, I’ve never seen such a crushing deluge of new music. Yes, much of it is boilerplate, but there are still countless musicians really pushing. I’m still lucky enough to able to buy records at real record stores (Jazz Record Mart, Dusty Groove), but I can’t deny that I’ve taken advantage of downloading to further add to the pile of music. I’ve spent more and more time thinking, “Where do I draw the line?” I take a certain pride in trying to be comprehensive, but it’s getting harder.

I’m not sure if Nate was referring to me when he mentioned Norwegian jazz, but I’ll take the bait. I too love the duo of Håkon Kornstad and Ingebrigt Håker Flaten, but they’ve yet to perform out here. But I also dig Kornstad’s recent solo sax album Dwell Time, and he seems to be getting better at developing an original language through simple looping effects. I had the chance to hear him do the same thing in a gorgeous duet with singer Sidsel Endresen -- a one-time ECM folk-jazz singer who’s experiencing a mid-life radicalism, unleashing incredible, all-improvised vocal performances, both solo and with this saxophonist -- that defied categorization, a quality that so much of the best Norwegian stuff exhibits. Atomic didn’t release a record, but its powerhouse drummer Paal Nilssen-Love blew my mind in a trio called OffOnOff with electric guitarist Terri Ex (of the Ex) and bassist Massimo Pupillo (of Zu) that turned churning free improv/noise and gut-punching grooves into the most physical, fantastically brutal concert I saw all year. They have two good records, but they’re impotent next to the live experience.

I feel like I’m rambling a little, which is an indirect way of writing that I didn’t observe any clear consensus or dominant thread over the last year. I also feel like so much of my favorite music is increasingly genre-averse. I mean, I like and appreciate Eric Alexander as much as the next person, but I get more excited by head scratchers like the Tyondai Braxton solo record, the electro-acoustic improv web that David Sylvian croons through on Manafon, or Vijay Iyer reshaping “Galang,” as shown here:

It may not all be strictly jazz, but it all evolves from a kindred spirit of experimentation, individual voices, and curiosity that’s always characterized much of the best jazz, and lots of musicians seem increasingly fluid in their collaborations and interactions.