Thursday, September 30, 2010

Subjective vs. Objective in Music

Music is simultaneously concrete and abstract. On the one hand, music is definite--it contains objectively discernible rhythms and pitches. At its moment of existence, it has a specific tone and aural character, and it can be written down, so that it can be recreated.

Vladimir Horowitz
At the same time, listening to music is a fundamentally subjective experience. As everyone knows, the joy of music is not (at least not in the larger part) in knowing what pitches or rhythms are played, but in listening to them be played. And, if any joy is gained from, say, reading a piece from sheet music without an instrument, it is in audiation that the joy lies--that is to say, it is in the playing of the music in one's own head.

Truly, music is both subjective and objective. I might love the way that Vladimir Horowitz plays Chopin, and it may really mean something to me, but that doesn't mean that it means the same thing to me that it means to Vladimir Horowitz. In fact, I'd be quite surprised if Horowitz felt the same way about the music of Chopin he plays as I do about the music of Chopin he plays. 

And that right there is really neat. 

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Music for my Funeral

1. Igor Stravinsky's Firebird Suite (1910)
I love this piece of music. I think it is quite fitting, too, with its imagery of death and rebirth and new life after destruction. I'd very much like to see the accompanying ballet.


2. John Coltrane, "Naima" (1959)
It's kind of odd, I guess, to put this piece in the lineup, given that it was written by Coltrane for his wife, and is much more of a love song than a somber death march. I really like it though, it is immeasurably pretty.


3. The Grateful Dead, "Stella Blue" (1972)
This song is beautiful, in lyric, melody, and harmony, and speaks to me about the impermanence of life and the permanence of beauty--"In the end there's just a song."


4. Ludwig van Beethoven, Piano Sonata No. 30 in E Major, Op. 109 Ludwig van Beethoven, String Quartet, Op. 132, 3rd Movement
These are two of my favorite pieces of all time. The piano sonata (particularly the first movement) is uplifting and enlightening, while the string quartet is somber and serious.


5. The Grateful Dead, "Uncle John's Band" (1969)
 This song speaks to the peace and kindness of the human character, and I feel it is perfect to end the set of music for my funeral. In the end, we are each just looking for a little happiness in this life. "Woah-oh what I want to know, is are you kind."

Monday, September 27, 2010

Coltrane, Miles, Wayne, and that Modern Sound - Part 3 - Coltrane

The enduring legacy of John Coltrane, Miles Davis, and Wayne Shorter is undisputed in the jazz world. Each contributed greatly to the revolution in jazz in the 1960's, forming, defining, and expanding what is widely regarded as the height of jazz music. In this third of a 3-part series of blog posts, I will explore each in turn.




John Coltrane is the greatest tenor saxophone player to have ever lived. A remarkably fine musician in both of his two highly contrasting periods (early and late, naturally), Coltrane's legacy endures. 

Starting in 1962, Coltrane and his quartet pushed the limits of jazz. Like the music of Miles and Shoter, Coltrane's music often consisted of simple one-chord vamps that opened up the harmonic framework for the performer. (Check out The Inchworm).


The revolutionary aspect of Coltrane was not, however, the type of jazz he played, which, as I discussed in the two pervious posts, Miles and Wayne were also playing. It's because he pushed the boundaries of the possible, acceptable, and purposeful in jazz that he is so recognized here on this blog--because he showed, in a way, that jazz could communicate the spiritual and powerful.
Coltrane's music is not the normal chill-in-the-club-drink-my-cocktail jazz. It is fiery. It is emotive, explosive. His band is spectacular. Elvin Jones, drummer for the quartet, is known for his polyrythmic flourishes of sound. Mccoy Tyner, who played piano, played with commendable force and determination, expertly pushing and pulling the harmony around.

But it is Coltrane himself that makes the band, naturally. The man puts himself into each note. He blows his soul right in the mouthpiece and shoots it straight to the stars. And this makes him non-casual. When he plays something, he plays it fully. His inspiration flows fluidly from this mind to the instrument, he never stumbles, plays just as beautifully at any tempo. 

And in doing all of this so well, he changes what might otherwise sound like boring, repetitive one-chord jams into explorations (The Inch Worm) meditations (My Favorite Things) or spiritual trips (A Love Supreme, Part II: Resolution). And that's just it, really. He takes these, what are essentially "jams," and pushes them to the next level. Their "jammy"ness allows them to be free, open, and spontaneous. 

Here, in Coltrane (and no doubt in countless others, I don't mean to say Coltrane has a monopoly), we have the essence of improvisational live music performance. Interaction, interplay, development, all in a seemingly choreographed symphony of sound.

And he just sounds so good to listen to. Maybe that's it, really. It's impossible to quite put a finger on what it is about the music of John Coltrane that is so compelling, but it sure as hell is compelling.

Sunday, September 26, 2010

Coltrane, Miles, Wayne, and that Modern Sound - Part 2 - Wayne

The enduring legacy of John Coltrane, Miles Davis, and Wayne Shorter is undisputed in the jazz world. Each contributed greatly to the revolution in jazz in the 1960's, forming, defining, and expanding what is widely regarded as the height of jazz music. In this second of a 3-part series of blog posts, I will explore each in turn.




"The master writer to me, in that group, was Wayne Shorter. He still is a master. Wayne was one of the few people who brought music to Miles that didn't get changed."
Herbie Hancock, speaking about Shorter's compositional role in the Second Miles Davis Quintet

Shorter is not only one of jazz's best composers, but one of its best players as well. John Coltrane, exiting tenor player of Miles' first quintet, suggested him to Miles as a replacement and, after four years of working with various other tenor saxophone players, Miles finally hired Wayne.

Miles was one of the originators of modal jazz, a type of jazz which is organized in sections where one chord serves as the harmony for many measures. Composing in this similar vein but expanding the technique, shorter wrote many pieces with one dominant harmony but many chords, finding interesting and often chromatic ways of reinforcement. For example, instead of playing a D minor 7th chord for eight bars in a row, Shorter would perhaps compose a D minor 7th chord and then chords that quickly take us a way from D minor 7th, and then back again, without ever really leaving the feel of D minor.

The result are tunes that groove, move along in a definite path, but at the same time feel free and spacious. Check out Deluge, Black Nile, or Mahjong

He also wrote many tunes that have changes that function modally, but that have a chordal rhythm that is much more rapid than that of most modal tunes. These tunes are like giant tapestries with layers and rows of color that change as one moves one's eye across. As the chords move by, the subtle chromatic ways the notes change are very colorful. Check out Speak No Evil or El Gaucho or Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum (which is a great example; see if you can hear the bluesy progression and feel change in the middle of the tune's form).

Thursday, September 23, 2010

Coltrane, Miles, Wayne, and that Modern Sound - Part 1 - Miles

The enduring legacy of John Coltrane, Miles Davis, and Wayne Shorter is undisputed in the jazz world. Each contributed greatly to the revolution in jazz in the 1960's, forming, defining, and expanding what is widely regarded as the height of jazz music. In a 3-part series of blog posts to follow, I will explore each in turn.



Miles Davis headed the best jazz band of all time, the Second Miles Davis Quintet (henceforth SMDQ). His second "great quintet" (hence the name) came about in 1963, three years after the dissolution of his first great quintet and epitomized the new, "modern" sound of jazz in the 60's. A primary aspect of this change, and the music of the SMDQ, is in the sound itself. The tone and timbre of the instruments, and their function therefore, changed and became more dynamic in the 60's. 

Herbie Hancock
This is especially apparent in the playing of pianist Herbie Hancock. Typically in jazz, when it's your turn to solo, you play melodious lines that are, functionally, leading melodic elements of the music. You are accompanied by rhythmic and harmonic elements, creating a full sound. Herbie certainly plays many functionally melodic lines; however, he includes a considerable amount of textural, transitional music that doesn't function in a directly melodic way. Footprints is a good example, check out his solo near the end.



Tony Williams
Though it was Miles' band, 17-year-old drummer Tony Williams is often credited (by Miles Davis himself, even) as being the heart and soul of the music. His playing is subtle to the highest degree, as he possesses both a fine sense of artistry and an unrelenting technical prowess. His music with the SMDQ embodies another aspect of the the modern sound of the sixties, this one relating to the purpose of the music.



Drumming is essential in jazz for many reasons, though its primary function is (was?) groove-ological. The drums keep tempo and keep the time feeling good. Tony did more than this. Tony's intensity and vivacity (which you can check out in the Footprints link above) was more than a backbeat playing groove-master (though he was that). In other words, he made art, every time he sat down behind the kit. Sure, it feels good to listen to him play, but it feels something more than that too. It's hard to put a finger on it. It's also hard to answer "why?" about it. Why, Tony? For whom? To what end? And it is comforting to come to the conclusion that the music he made was for the music itself. It feels good, no doubt, to make the music. But the music is not for feeling good. It's for the music. 

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Article Review: Maynard Solomon

Review: Maynard Solomon, “Taboo and Biographical Information: Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert”


Maynard Solomon, who doubles as a record producer and musicologist, carefully and pointedly argues that the concept of the taboo has greatly influenced biographical discovery. Societal taboos, Solomon argues, have blinded historians for hundreds of years; because historians would prefer not to think poorly of their heroes, they subconsciously blind themselves from the truth.



Mr. Maynard Solomon himself
Solomon makes his argument skillfully, with a style and cohesion that is clearly marked by his writing and musicological experience. He begins with his examples, which serve as the exciting historical meat of the essay. This makes good rhetorical sense—to talk about and clearly make his argument in regards to the influence of taboos on the study of history, he must present his evidence. Luckily for him, his evidence is interesting and worthy of good storytelling: by clever artifice and craft, he links his examples into a compelling narrative, which strongly supports his argument.


Most of his examples deal with sexual or marital issues, which makes good sense, given the general aversion—or, at least, the general aversion of the last several hundred years—to the public discourse of things of a sexual nature. While it may seem somewhat odd now that a historian, who is, naturally, quite desirous of new discoveries, would have disregarded any information. But, for many years, those things were considered taboo and unfavorable. It was only in the 20th century, and, really, only in the last 20 years that such information has come to light. And only in the last ten that such a trend has been noticed.


I like his organization throughout the essay. The logic is easy to follow and the essay is presented in a way that feels honest. He discusses and reinforces the theoretical elements of his argument and then, cunningly, reworks his examples. The effect reinforces the reader’s comprehension and strengthens Solomon’s interpretation of the evidence.


At the very end of his essay, however, I feel he falters. He begins the fifth and final section of his essay by discussing the human tendency to hide sensitive pieces of knowledge from potential biographers. He claims that “to accept the premise that certain subjects are off-limits to scholarly investigation is to invoke the ultimate taboo—on knowledge itself.” His point is, however, unsupported by the quickly following quote from 17th century philosopher Spinoza. Indeed, at this, the climax of his essay, he falls flat on his face. I see no basis for this assumption; it is not clear to me that there is any taboo on knowledge itself. Rather, it seems to me that there are simply, as Solomon says himself, “certain subjects off-limits to scholarly investigation.” Through and through, the essay is a quality exploration of the process of accumulation of historical and biographical information. It is intriguing to think that a significant aspect of our understanding of the past is affected by the way that we understand the present. Additionally, his examples are concrete and easily discernable, giving his essay a logical and rhetorical force.

Sunday, September 19, 2010

It's not the Real Thing, but it's Close Enough to Pretend

Furthur – 9/17/2010 – The Cuthbert Amphitheater, Eugene OR

On a rainy September evening in Eugene, Furthur—the latest iteration of the post-Jerry Garcia Grateful Dead—played to a sold-out crowd.

Mini Me
The Grateful Dead are a significant element of my own personal musical history. I went to my first concert when I was six weeks old, and grew up with Jerry and the boys accompanying me on most every car ride with my parents. As such, the music of the Grateful Dead has a special place in my heart.

To say the least, I’m an educated critic, and on this particular September evening I was absolutely floored by the music. Phil Lesh, bass, and Bob Weir, rhythm guitar, are the only two original members of the Dead in this band, which is one of many to come after lead-guitarist Jerry Garcia’s death.

John Kadlecik
And, after some fifteen years of miscellaneous groups all drawing from the Dead repertoire, it would seem that a group has finally been formed that can not only play the music but can truly take it further. Phil and Bobby are accompanied by John Kadlecik, long-time lead-guitarist of renowned Grateful Dead cover band Dark Star Orchestra. John brings much experience with the music to the group, whose previous iterations included lead guitarists, such as Warren Haynes, of the Allman Brothers, that brought too much of themselves along, and left not enough of the original sound in tact.

In other words, the band manages to not only do the old favorites justice, but to take them to the next level, adding a modern twist and modern tones that are beautifully intertwined with the much more dated core of the music.

During the first set, I was particularly struck by a line in the second to last tune, “Saint of Circumstance.” “It’s not the real thing,” the line goes, “but it’s close enough to pretend.” What a fitting commentary on the band and its members, who struggled for so long with the ghost of their sound, left hallow by the death of its creator and prime originator. It’s heartwarming to hear something new and special be born out of the ashes of the phoenix, so to speak.

This was really apparent in moments when John took control of the band. One such moment was particularly striking in “Golden Road to Unlimited Devotion,” the last tune of the first set. Flying through the form of the tune in an up-tempo interpretation, John broke through audiative echo of Garcia, pushing the song to a new and modern climax.

After the set break, the rain really started coming down, as we were all reminded that yes, we were in Oregon. The band continued on its way, through a very pretty “Bird Song,” which, I was pleasantly surprised to hear, included a swung section with walking bass line and a very jazzy feel. Quite unlike the Grateful Dead. The mastery of Joe Russo, drummer, really shined in this section, as his carefully executed breaks added rhythmic intensity and diversity.

I was also quite pleasantly surprised to hear a song I hadn’t heard before in the set: “The Mountain Song,” originally recorded by Jerry Garcia, Phil Lesh, and David Crosby in 1971. The song, which, I later learned, was originally recorded acoustic, is a folky up-tempo rock ballad that peaked on Friday with a very tasty solo by John. The rain falling through the colored lights was beautiful, and I remember reflecting on the technician’s skill.

Thursday, September 16, 2010

Guitars in Jazz

John Mclaughlin
I often find myself struggling to find ways to make the guitar sound good in a pure jazz setting. The guitar, and especially the electric guitar, were not conceived with jazz in mind. The relatively thin tone of most guitars without distortion--which is too dirty and messy for most situations--doesn't mesh well with swinging drums and walking bass line.


John Scofield
The jazz guitarists I really respect and admire are the ones whose tone fits and meshes with the jazz. Jim Hall is one of the best examples of a guitarist who, in a pure jazz setting, makes the tone work, sound beautiful, and really accomplish something. The guitar often comes off as quite plucky, I feel. Too sharp, not enough comfy breadth. A saxophone is wide. A trumpet is a fat plop of sound. But most clean guitars are too much head, not enough tail, too big of an attack and not enough sustain. 


Frequently, I find myself attracted to those jazz guitarists who have engineered a tone with effects pedals and fancy amps. John Mclaughlin and John Scofield are noteworthy for this. Both use distortion pedals to great effect. Mclaughlin's tone is brazen and powerful, with excellent sustain. Scofield is more refined, with a groovy tightness.

Monday, September 13, 2010

The Merits of House Music

This is what Abercrombie & Fitch
sounds like.
You're walking down the street, passing your local Abercrombie & Fitch, and, as the door swings open to let out a young, privileged white girl, your hear sound. Lots of sound. In fact, from your distance of about two meters, the music is positively loud, which means it's got to be completely bumpin' inside.

It sounds kind of familiar, but you can't quite put your finger. You've heard it before, or something similar, no doubt--every song with the same copy and paste four-on-the-floor drum beat, cheesy, occasionally auto-tuned vocals, and predictable beat drops. Ah yes, House music. 

Among most of the people I associate with, House music gets a real bad rap. Most find it repetitive and boring. Until recently, I was of this view. I have, however, now been enlightened.

I listened a little more closely. If so many people like this music--and it is quite popular in Europe, and some cities in America--there must be something appealing about it. I give, for your examination, Daft Punk.

While it may be somewhat repetitive, it nails the most important aspects of music. Tension. Tone. Release. Variation. 

And this is what Daft Punk sounds like.
The composition is commendable for its formal merits--that is to say, its organization, the way it is laid out, create an interesting and consistently entertaining framework. The music builds, reaches a high point, and then collapses. The drums and repetitive bass line are withheld at first, and later, to create moments of pause. The texture of the music collapses after some verses, making the music seem to shrink, and giving it room to grow.



Plus, the way it sounds--the noise coming out of the speakers--is good. The tones, the timbres of the elements, complement each other. There is a soft part and a harder element, a boom and a chuck. The overall effect is pleasing.

And so, really, my point is that music doesn't have to be complex. And I mean that in the extreme. It doesn't need to be complex rhythmically or harmonically. All it has to do is do something--go somewhere, hang out for a little bit, leave--and do it with style. When music takes you on a journey and does it with a sound that is pleasurable, it has accomplished its goal.

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

CD Review - Jim Hall - Concierto

Jim Hall - Concierto - CTI - 1975


Jim Hall is one of Jazz's greatest guitar players. Now probably best known for playing with Bill Evans, the legendary pianist, Jim Hall's unmatched tone and style stand out among the thin, weak tones and repetitive, over-bearing lines of the vast majority of Jazz guitarists. 


His 1975 album, Concierto, was recorded with Ron Carter on bass, Steve Gadd on drums, Paul Desmond on alto saxophone, and Chet Baker on trumpet, and Roland Hanna on piano. The featured track of the album is the "Concierto de Aranjuez," which Miles Davis famously covered in his Sketches of Spain. The track is a retelling of the "Concierto" and is quite different than Miles' version. I think that Jim Hall's guitar really adds a lot--especially considering it was written as a guitar concerto.


I appreciate Jim Hall's playing throughout, as crisp, crunchy, and concise. This is clearly apparent on, for example, the second track, "Two's Blues." His solo contrasts sharply with Chet Baker's trumpet solo, which I feel is weak and floppy. He gets to the point and his tone is golden


Speaking of Chet Baker, I don't like his playing on this album. I don't really like his playing in generally, actually. He has an enjoyable, uptempo solo on the first track, "You'd Be So Nice To Come Home To," but besides that I feel that most of his solos lack substance.  Paul Desmond too. They're both way too smooth. Not only do their tones lack oomph--instead of being pointed, their rounded and polished off--their playing lacks punch. I guess they kind of go hand in hand. 

Album Review - The Doors

The Doors - The Doors - Asylum - 1967


One of the most iconic bands of the '60s, the Doors' sound--unique among "psychedelic" bands of the '60s--continues to entertain. Their debut 1967 self-tiled release catapulted them to stardom, with the album peaking at #2 on the Billboard charts.


Included on the album is the 1966 hit single, "Light My Fire", which spent three weeks as the #1 Billboard single. The album version, however is considerably longer, and features an extended solo by keyboardist Ray Mazarek. However, the music is relatively simplistic, and, I feel, lacks a certain degree of excitement. I find the song much more pleasing as a single.


"Break on Through to the Other Side", the other track from the album released as a single, I find much more pleasing. The lyrics, as with many Doors' songs, are full of references to psychedelic drugs and "turning on." The refrain, and title, "Break on Through to the Other Side" is illustrative of this. The tune is upbeat, and I think Manzarek shines; his tone is quite nice, and, as with most tracks, he plays the bass as well as chordal accompaniment and soloing. 


Tracks 5 and 7, "Back Door Man" and "Alabama Song," respectively, are notable for their hedonistic and gritty tone, and dark lyrics, referencing alcoholism and sex with underage girls. The last track, "The End," was much more controversial than either of these, however, with its Oedipal spoken word section. As with all the tracks on the album, "The End" is musically compelling, in my opinion. The lyrics are haunting and intentionally unsettling, and, most importantly, the tones--the sounds of all of the instruments--fit and mold beautifully into a whole.

Thursday, September 2, 2010

Big Ideas

I really enjoy the music of Radiohead, and I particularly like their new album,
"In Rainbows". Released on October 10, 2007, the band actually gave away the album for free on the Internet for the first few months and still had one of the best selling albums of the year. I could probably write for pages on it's musical and artistic merits. Needless to say, I'm a big fan.


James Houston is too, apparently. The link in the previous sentence is to his "cover" of Radiohead's "Nude" off the aforementioned album. Radiohead held an online contest to see who could remix the tune the best. "Nude" is in 6/8 and quite slow (63 BPM), and presented an interesting challenge to most people. 

The majority changed the time signature to 4/4, sped up the tempo, and awkwardly placed snips from "Nude" over a new drum beat. Thom Yorke, the lead singer and principal composer for Radiohaed, even joked in an interview on NPR that the contest was created to see what kind of entries would turn up, given the unusual nature of the piece in relation to most remixed music, which is in 4/4 and around 120 BPM. 

James Houston wasn't phased, and took the contest in a completely new direction. Instead of trying to remake the song into a dance hit, he was inspired by a line from the lyrics to do something original. In his own words:
Based on the lyric (and alternate title) "Big Ideas: Don't get any" I grouped together a collection of old redundant hardware, and placed them in a situation where they're trying their best to do something that they're not exactly designed to do, and not quite getting there. 
The result is truly spectacular. Houston set up an Epson printer, an HP scanner, an array of hard drives, and an old oscillator, which he linked together with a computer. By writing a computer program to operate the devices, Houston was able to organize and orchestrate the tones and timing of the machines such that they would reproduce the song. The scanner plays the bass, the printer the drums, the oscillator the keys/guitar, and, amazingly, the hard drives play the vocals. By spinning the hard drives ever so slightly, a scratching noise is produced as the metallic disc of the drive moves against the sharp, pointy reading needle.
 

The conception and execution of this are really perfect. Not only is it a cool idea, but it sounds great; the tones he was able to produce are completely legitimate and stand alone, independent of the echo of the original song in one's mind.