tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-65073659005732552572024-03-14T04:26:30.448-04:00Musings from a Saxophonist...Ellery Eskelinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17754806219906266323noreply@blogger.comBlogger102125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507365900573255257.post-83684222236490839212023-12-18T18:36:00.011-05:002024-03-08T20:00:45.719-05:00Solo Concert 12/15/2023<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUpSL2xg45WpNsmJ5oH9aJPnFevAiqWu77FmILc94oriGsCxHmSy6-djKxVz3PE7mgrZWsyZ6qxto78Mkt4hfbzCauyM-hyTuTt_qH26X8CJitZlc0qYzJxZc_5RhgUYk49CiIWJ4BIjeD4CzD1y3rOp317IKaXMqOVHEuDXHnqpqsPqq0xeJsCXyPoTM/s4032/%20Ellery_Seifu_Eskelin_IMG_2705.jpg" style="clear: left; display: inline; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2854" data-original-width="4032" height="284" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUpSL2xg45WpNsmJ5oH9aJPnFevAiqWu77FmILc94oriGsCxHmSy6-djKxVz3PE7mgrZWsyZ6qxto78Mkt4hfbzCauyM-hyTuTt_qH26X8CJitZlc0qYzJxZc_5RhgUYk49CiIWJ4BIjeD4CzD1y3rOp317IKaXMqOVHEuDXHnqpqsPqq0xeJsCXyPoTM/w400-h284/%20Ellery_Seifu_Eskelin_IMG_2705.jpg" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">This past Friday evening I performed a solo concert in Brooklyn.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">It was my second concert in about four years, the previous one also being solo which took place in 2021.</span><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">This particular concert took place at a Zen temple.</span><span style="font-family: times;"> </span><span style="font-family: times;"> </span><span style="font-family: times;">More about that in a moment.</span></p><p><b style="font-family: times;">The Set Up…</b></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">Preparing for any concert requires concentrated practice but a solo concert is perhaps the most demanding. I began focusing my daily practice a couple of months in advance, gradually ramping things up in earnest about a month out only to encounter a bad bout of “reed neurosis”, something that does not happen often but is quite the pain in the ass when it does. I like to think I’ve developed a good degree of flexibility with respect to reeds but occasionally the whole lot of them seem to go south all at once, for reasons I’ve never been able to determine with any certainty. Saxophonists are notoriously dissatisfied with their reeds and everyone has a theory but I don’t really subscribe to any of them, the saxophone is mysterious that way. I do know that when preparing for a concert I do tend to get more picky. And I had been experimenting with overtones at around this time and it’s possible that adjustments to my embouchure may have thrown things out of alignment. Or maybe it was a sudden change in the barometric pressure or whatever else we saxophonists like to blame for the vagaries our instrument. As you can see, this is the neurosis part. </span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">So I did what every saxophonist does in such a situation, I tried a new brand of reeds, in this case the reeds currently being offered from the <a href="https://www.bostonsaxshop.com/" target="_blank">Boston Sax Shop</a> which it turns out I like quite a bit. That combined with spending a couple of weeks really working on the physicality of getting the horn to speak from every note to every other note to an extent I had not done in awhile. However, in concentrating so heavily on sound and notes I began to feel a bit stiff musically which became something else to wonder about. So I took time to remember some of the things I mention to my students, orienting myself to the physical gesture, shaping the sound and phrasing, the physical movement being the generative element which determines the phrasing, which determines the color of the sound, which determines the notes, all of which rides on the breath. That got everything realigned pretty quickly but in order to remind myself, I wrote down on a piece of paper<i> <span style="font-size: medium;">“the breath dances…”</span> </i>and took it with me to the concert.</span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>The Setting…</b></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">Many musicians speak about their creative process in spiritual terms, often self-styled or sometimes aligned with a particular tradition, which is all fine and cool. But when folks find out you may be a bit more serious about that tradition things can get a little quiet all the sudden. That’s completely understandable given the complexity of religious practice in America as it intertwines with our personal histories filtered through the cultural, economic and political landscape that make up our collective experience. The word fraught springs to mind to the point that spiritual becomes a loaded term. For years, even as it was obvious to me deep down that music was spiritual, I didn’t want anything to do with the word. This being a blog about music I feel pretty strongly the importance of keeping on-topic. You have your own thoughts and feelings on life and it’s probably best if we all find ways of honoring that about each other.</span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">In this case, given that I played at the Zen center that I have been attending as a practitioner for many years, I’m faced with honoring my own sensibilities, some of which seemed a bit contrary to the whole endeavor. For example, <span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;">I was apprehensive about playing a saxophone, or any kind of music actually, in a Zen temple. After all, it’s a place in which we practice silence. Not that there isn’t a precedent for doing so, there is the tradition of the shakuhachi flute for one. But the saxophone and the musical traditions that inform how I play it may appear antithetical to the image one may have of the shakuhachi or even Zen itself. </span>But in spite of any reservations, I couldn’t really come up with a convincing reason to refuse the invitation. Having played in concert halls and dive bars and everything in between, this was a new experience and yet it turned out to be a natural fit. I saw quite a few folks I hadn’t seen in awhile (which is most folks come to think of it) and while most of those in attendance were not Zen practitioners it was perhaps the most concentrated listening experience I’ve been a part of, allowing me to go a bit deeper into musical areas that I might not have trusted so firmly in the past. Given the disruption of the music business in recent years and the effect it’s had on musicians, venues and audiences this invitation turned out to be quite welcome. It also provided a means for me to encounter some of my own blind spots around what I think it means to be a musician. I played three extended improvisations and in retrospect, while the experience was very positive, I have almost no sense of what I actually played. I’m not sure what to think about that. This makes me realize how heavily we rely on recording to inform ourselves of the progress of our work and yet in this case I chose not to record the event, thinking about the Tibetan monks who create mandalas made of sand only to wipe them away after finishing. Where does music come from and where does it go?</span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>The Takeaway...</b></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">After the concert we had a chance for folks to ask questions or offer comments. One person said that at times it sounded as if I was playing backwards and asked if that was intentional. It wasn’t, although the thought has crossed my mind in the past. Another person, with experience in improvisational theater, asked whether improvising musicians also come up against habitual tendencies and wanted to know how we handled that. I offered that we do and that it doesn’t have to be a negative thing, it’s actually something we need and something we can use, seeing it might simply move you in another direction. Years ago I might have answered differently, given that in earlier stages of development it may feel necessary to focus on particular ways to meet challenging conditions that come up when improvising. We may even feel the necessity of taking a particular stand artistically and I’m not sure that’s a bad thing. But when seeing that our agendas have become weighty over time we can drop them, not out of negation but out of trust, there being no real need to make an ideology out of creative practice. Personally I find that all of the same basic kinds of thoughts and feelings come up as was always the case, just that now I don’t feel the need to manage it all to such a degree. Someone came up afterwards and said that she experienced a wide range of feelings throughout the music and wondered if I was guiding the music emotionally in some way. I wasn’t, although I’m certainly aware of everything I’m feeling. It’s just that the concentration is such that I can’t get distracted by those feelings. In some way that I don’t quite understand it seems that this process allows for those feelings to be even more true in that they can move, as they must. </span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">This makes me think of a quality that musicians often speak of in terms of idealized states for playing and that is the word effortless. It’s the quality of the music seeming to play itself. I would not negate that but I think it can be misleading if taken at face value. It might imply that our involvement, intention or effort is misplaced, even an obstacle to achieving a desired state. In my experience “effortless” does not negate our involvement, it requires it. Personally I like the feeling of working a bit when I play. It’s a very physical and directed energy in which the horn offers its resistance and thereby the sound is created. In putting in this effort there is a kind of equilibrium that takes place in which it can well seem like the whole thing is going by itself. But it does require an investment. We put our energy into the process and are met with…well, that’s up to you to experience in whatever way you feel it. Sometimes musicians might say that <span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;">the music doesn't come "from" them but rather "through" them. I would not negate this either except to say that I would not want to imply that there is music “out there” that comes through me “in here”. In fact, I was having this discussion recently with my first saxophone teacher, Mr. Reinhardt, who rephrased my statement as “the music that comes ‘through’ you is not separate ‘from’ you.” I think that’s very nicely put. </span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">This is all just my take on what I’m feeling, something that defies putting into words although I can’t resist trying. There really is no end to the ways in which we might think and feel about playing. I love to read interviews with artists in which they speak about their process. Sometimes I don’t relate so much to a particular approach or even disagree with it strongly. Once I read someone advocating mastery before creativity in a way that seemed dictatorial. On the other end of the spectrum are folks who express an aversion to conventional skills or even anything determinative, wanting instead to surrender to whatever is happening. But I know that we are all essentially doing the same thing, in our own way. It’s a good practice to take something that rubs me the wrong way and try and enlarge my view of what’s being said in order to see that. </span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">In closing, there was one other question that came up, a rather obvious one that nonetheless caught me off guard. <span style="font-size: medium;"> “How does it feel to play for people again?” </span>I should have been prepared for that one but I really didn’t know what to say except that having just done so I should probably do more. And in fact, I do want to play for folks but I have my concerns about the form that takes, at least here in NYC. It’s a challenging environment and a challenging time for creative work. In acknowledging this I’m greatly appreciative of the effort it takes from folks who know how to make things happen on the ground and I do want to extend my appreciation for all of their efforts. In particular to Hojin Sensei, the abbot of <a href="https://zmm.org/zcnyc/" target="_blank">Fire Lotus Temple</a>, a creative artist herself who helped me to see a bit more clearly that<span style="font-size: medium;"> yes, it is OK to play the saxophone in a Zen temple. </span></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>Epilogue</b></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">For the benefit of us saxophone nerds, given all of the pre-game drama, upon warming up in the performance room for the concert I opted for my regular brand of reed, Rico Grand Concert Select. They are a classical cut reed which works very well for a solo performance. I suspect I will be using Boston Sax Shop reeds for ensemble work although I understand that they will also be offering a classical cut reed in the future. And out of curiosity I just went back and played through that bad batch of reeds only to find out that they are pretty much fine. So…I remain clueless about the whole thing…</span></p>
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<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">The group photo is by photographer Todd Weinstein. You can find out more about his work at <a href="http://toddweinstein.com" target="_blank">toddweinstein.com</a></span></p>
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<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-family: Helvetica; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><br /></p>Ellery Eskelinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17754806219906266323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507365900573255257.post-46010861773372591402023-11-11T18:51:00.008-05:002023-11-17T11:30:18.893-05:00What's the Story?<p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">If you’ve been reading this blog for any length of time you know that…</span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none; font-size: medium;">1. I’m an improvisor.</span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none; font-size: medium;">2. I’m an advocate for acoustic music.</span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none; font-size: medium;">3. I have my concerns as to the ways technology affects our experience of music.</span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none; font-size: medium;">Perhaps more than any of these things I am a listener. These days it feels just as gratifying to listen to someone play music as it does to play it myself. As such I’m beginning to realize that beyond my love for jazz, improvisation and the saxophone the real artistic medium to be spoken of is the concert experience itself. </span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhABhNqSVVndzPRb_uJ9_VHGVQBCrdHKzdxtV7yJwMttPitRu8h7b8Coc4AAXU_pCg6nsPFNdIiijATbmak6LaOz9XylXQ4HpQxHSii5WXMkI9ZdyX4LK1_Xd_2L_Jc8ao785JOyGsEMGi7dIu3zZDu_cb3N2vOq5eRV-WD6sAFZCuNFyUsgpXUPMpQAzo/s802/Syntagma07_racketts.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhABhNqSVVndzPRb_uJ9_VHGVQBCrdHKzdxtV7yJwMttPitRu8h7b8Coc4AAXU_pCg6nsPFNdIiijATbmak6LaOz9XylXQ4HpQxHSii5WXMkI9ZdyX4LK1_Xd_2L_Jc8ao785JOyGsEMGi7dIu3zZDu_cb3N2vOq5eRV-WD6sAFZCuNFyUsgpXUPMpQAzo/s802/Syntagma07_racketts.jpg" style="clear: left; display: inline; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="532" data-original-width="802" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhABhNqSVVndzPRb_uJ9_VHGVQBCrdHKzdxtV7yJwMttPitRu8h7b8Coc4AAXU_pCg6nsPFNdIiijATbmak6LaOz9XylXQ4HpQxHSii5WXMkI9ZdyX4LK1_Xd_2L_Jc8ao785JOyGsEMGi7dIu3zZDu_cb3N2vOq5eRV-WD6sAFZCuNFyUsgpXUPMpQAzo/w200-h133/Syntagma07_racketts.jpg" width="200" /></a></span></div><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;">You may also have noticed that I’m writing more about classical music, a subject I have little knowledge of or insight into. Some of what excites me may seem close to trivial, like my surprise at discovering new (to me) instruments from the medieval era presented by the <a href="https://www.gemsny.org" target="_blank">Gotham Early Music Scene</a> at a local church in my neighborhood. In researching some of these I came across an amazing (to me) instrument from the sixteenth century called a <b>rackett</b>. It’s basically a wooden cylinder, not much bigger than a beer bottle, utilizing a double reed in which nine parallel internal bores have been carved giving it an astonishing range for its size. Have a <a href="https://youtu.be/d9_ma4ITRSc?si=bnwlkCf4NQylcH5f" target="_blank">listen</a>. </span>Perhaps not the most profound thing you’ll encounter today, but somehow I feel better about the world knowing this even exists.</span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"> </span></p><p></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_p_PLNyxz2TioaaSOcwV1jsqRz91Ik9OW2-cp_zUvJNAoMktbfUNiJ7z45eU8pVVaxhTg4XVWolFqXttWsUzHwGDQ_ZPq7cn2IEIfhFend7MjWuYOwIIPdSha1OtrlBNzVbFMjmwH2tkDYO9_4DnZbAzNNMa4xxwv1FiyDdYYpLVTWnFNi9nh95JDo5g/s4032/Organ.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_p_PLNyxz2TioaaSOcwV1jsqRz91Ik9OW2-cp_zUvJNAoMktbfUNiJ7z45eU8pVVaxhTg4XVWolFqXttWsUzHwGDQ_ZPq7cn2IEIfhFend7MjWuYOwIIPdSha1OtrlBNzVbFMjmwH2tkDYO9_4DnZbAzNNMa4xxwv1FiyDdYYpLVTWnFNi9nh95JDo5g/s320/Organ.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></div><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;">Some of my listening has in fact been more profound. I was one of about a dozen folks in attendance on a recent Sunday afternoon to hear Finnish organist <a href="https://vimeo.com/382339962" target="_blank">Kalle Toivio</a> give a recital. I took a seat in the first row just to the left of the organist where I could see everything including the music he was reading. After playing two written works (one by Vivaldi and another by McNeil Robinson) he ended by improvising a piece based on two short melodic themes given to him at that moment. After playing each of them verbatim he paused in concentration for some moments before launching into ten minutes of impassioned expression and compositional inventiveness; variation, transposition, reharmonization, fugues and sonic transformations all delivered with a virtuosic creativity that left me speechless. Upon leaving I wanted to thank him yet only managed to babble something to the effect that it was <span style="font-size: medium;">one of the greatest musical experiences of my life.</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;">Certainly the surprise had something to do with it. I wondered, if that had been a composed piece would it have had the same effect? To be honest, I think his improvised piece was the strongest work on the program. Which as it happens, I didn’t look at before or during the performance, in fact I never do. A few months ago I was chatting with a concert director before a performance who asked if I had a program. I said yes but told him that I’d read it afterwards. <span style="font-size: medium;"><b>“How will you know what you’re listening to?”</b></span> he asked incredulously. As you might imagine, I have a lot to say on the subject of not knowing what you’re listening to but I’m probably in the minority on this. Often these days there is some commentary offered on the part of the performers and composers prefacing their work and no doubt many folks welcome this as a way to feel connected to the music. That’s great but personally, I don’t want to know. Afterwards I’ll read but in the moment of listening I want to know what it is about the music itself that works, without the need for any kind of narrative. Not that narrative is a bad thing but I do consider its effects on our perceptions of music.</span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;">Just this week I attended a concert of Bach performed by Cynthia Roberts on violin and Peter Sykes on harpsichord. At a certain point in the proceedings Cynthia Roberts mentioned that her violin had been made in 1620 and she wondered aloud how many places it’s been and how many times it had played the very pieces she was playing that afternoon. That certainly added real emotional dimension to our appreciation of her performance but as I was walking home afterwards I began to wonder, what if she had not been telling the truth about her instrument? I wasn’t skeptical at all, nor was I being cynical about the sincerity of what she said and what we all felt. But I don’t think her story would have meant as much if her performance had not been so compelling. It was the music itself that was true.</span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;">So if the concert experience is the artistic medium (more than the instruments, styles and stories) a recent presentation at the Juilliard School raised some questions in my mind. Under the heading “New Series” the concert was titled “Vox Celli” with music by Arvo Pärt, Giti Ratz, Heitor Villa-Lobos and Julius Eastman performed by a cello choir. “Cello choir” was all I needed to hear and I entered the date into my calendar. Of course I did not read the program upon arriving, however the director did make an announcement, referring to a “mandate” from the school to foster interdisciplinary collaboration between its departments. On stage were assembled a dozen or so cellists, the sheer sound of which (despite some intonation problems in the opening) was lush and detailed. In addition there were some light projections on the back wall of the stage, morphing almost imperceptibly. And then there was the more apparent and sometimes dramatic effect of the lighting on the stage itself, which was coordinated with the movement of the compositions, all of which bordered on becoming a light show with classical music.</span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh7y0tt_ryIgtBsR0zYnPKDKF3qH8bAPWkPjV8CtDA7AxZ90kBtrTYt1J2YADzg1TzomNgwTvW7qLgxR9xQRRDV2NfNJy0wom5mP2INoY434iUlxnpsz1bv1ilDx-7xRRYnGFxQZ3BI7rz4rg8Yt8vQ0BYp41of9KNSqcFT47tYNbuQZNoC7MfF5QCS3o/s180/Julius_Eastman.jpg" style="clear: left; display: inline; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="180" data-original-width="143" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh7y0tt_ryIgtBsR0zYnPKDKF3qH8bAPWkPjV8CtDA7AxZ90kBtrTYt1J2YADzg1TzomNgwTvW7qLgxR9xQRRDV2NfNJy0wom5mP2INoY434iUlxnpsz1bv1ilDx-7xRRYnGFxQZ3BI7rz4rg8Yt8vQ0BYp41of9KNSqcFT47tYNbuQZNoC7MfF5QCS3o/s1600/Julius_Eastman.jpg" width="143" /></a></span></p><p></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Ending the presentation was music by composer Julius Eastman.</span><span> </span>I was thrilled to have the chance to hear his music performed live as I’d been hearing about him for years, the first time probably during my tenure as a shipping clerk at New World Records (a classical music label) in the mid eighties. In addition to my regular duties I occasionally got to turn pages on recording sessions and had the chance to meet composers like Milton Babbitt and Ned Rorem. Incidentally, I also once played with Gerry Eastman, a jazz guitarist and brother of Julius, although I didn’t know that at the time. Vocalist Shavon Lloyd opened the proceedings with an unaccompanied vocal piece titled “<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q_xI1djt_hw" target="_blank">Prelude to The Holy Presence of Joan d’Arc</a>” that completely transfixed the room.</span> <span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;">No light show or any frills whatsoever, just a slowly developing plaint boldly delivered (one repeated fragment of the lyric was “<b>Speak boldly, Joan!</b>”) off stage from the side of the room that lasted over ten minutes. With almost no means of support other than his sheer willpower it was emotionally gripping. While listening I could not help but wonder how that might be achieved on the saxophone, to strip away almost everything and be left with so much power, unadorned.</span></span></p><p></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-style: normal; text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIHDhRpLR_q8F_d8Hd7Ogxaa32Xr10XnM6eYTe2mxj1DDCORY7n98CXc-VRDtVwKsCOTjkwrTm8y0YujwHDGdyXUNvXF_yUpMzzOUdhNmevsodciSySrBNZJa9IZ2TQ2pXGfKjtx5Wc-UqytvJXzIOyXuixYVhszuCbTkwNJB915tX1xcfmw4f2ehxlD4/s960/passion_joan_5.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIHDhRpLR_q8F_d8Hd7Ogxaa32Xr10XnM6eYTe2mxj1DDCORY7n98CXc-VRDtVwKsCOTjkwrTm8y0YujwHDGdyXUNvXF_yUpMzzOUdhNmevsodciSySrBNZJa9IZ2TQ2pXGfKjtx5Wc-UqytvJXzIOyXuixYVhszuCbTkwNJB915tX1xcfmw4f2ehxlD4/s960/passion_joan_5.jpg" style="clear: right; display: inline; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a></span></div><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;">Afterwards the cellists re-assembled on the stage in order to perform Eastman’s composition “The Holy Presence of Joan d’Arc” this time in a different configuration, seated in rows, now amplified. Each musician was also wearing an earpiece for reasons that were not apparent. On the back wall of the stage was projected the 1928 silent film “<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Passion_of_Joan_of_Arc" target="_blank">The Passion of Joan of Arc</a>” (directed by Carl Theodor Dryer) albeit cut up and reassembled so as to coordinate with the music. Whatever anyone may think about these choices (and without knowing exactly who made them) I was most struck by the fact that the musicians seemed not to have much of a role in this “collaboration” beyond being relegated as an element in someone else’s stagecraft. Despite any of this, I must be honest in pointing out that the most potent moment of the evening by far was delivered by Mr. Lloyd, one person with one voice. And I hope to have a future opportunity to hear this composition in a more straightforward presentation.</span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none; font-style: normal;">Two nights later, also at Juilliard was the Axiom ensemble which I’ve heard a number of times and have always come away from feeling very positive and energized. Just a straight up concert of contemporary repertoire, everyone’s attention going straight into the music. I must admit that I sometimes worry that this kind of experience is becoming less the norm given the increasing mention of “immersive” presentations in the promotional materials I read. I understand that artists will do what artists will do but I hope that the classical concert world does not feel the need to follow the music world at large on whatever trip it is on. I understand that it is possible to make too much of these things and I understand that I am pretty much out of step with everything these days. But I do pay attention to what’s going on. Just the other day the Times <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2023/11/08/arts/music/concert-livestreamers.html" target="_blank">published an article</a> about folks attending mega-concerts by stars like </span>Taylor Swift and Beyoncé<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"> and becoming live-streaming internet heroes themselves in their fandom, “amateur camerapersons who show up with phones taped to their heads and backup batteries at the ready, eager to help hundreds — or hundreds of thousands — view the concert from home” as a means to “stick it to the man”, ostensibly because tickets might cost $549 and hey, it’s something we can do now. Being that that’s a “thing” maybe you shouldn’t even listen to me. <b>Seriously, I really don’t know what’s going on.</b></span></span></p><p></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-style: normal; text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIHDhRpLR_q8F_d8Hd7Ogxaa32Xr10XnM6eYTe2mxj1DDCORY7n98CXc-VRDtVwKsCOTjkwrTm8y0YujwHDGdyXUNvXF_yUpMzzOUdhNmevsodciSySrBNZJa9IZ2TQ2pXGfKjtx5Wc-UqytvJXzIOyXuixYVhszuCbTkwNJB915tX1xcfmw4f2ehxlD4/s960/passion_joan_5.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIHDhRpLR_q8F_d8Hd7Ogxaa32Xr10XnM6eYTe2mxj1DDCORY7n98CXc-VRDtVwKsCOTjkwrTm8y0YujwHDGdyXUNvXF_yUpMzzOUdhNmevsodciSySrBNZJa9IZ2TQ2pXGfKjtx5Wc-UqytvJXzIOyXuixYVhszuCbTkwNJB915tX1xcfmw4f2ehxlD4/s960/passion_joan_5.jpg" style="clear: right; display: inline; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="960" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIHDhRpLR_q8F_d8Hd7Ogxaa32Xr10XnM6eYTe2mxj1DDCORY7n98CXc-VRDtVwKsCOTjkwrTm8y0YujwHDGdyXUNvXF_yUpMzzOUdhNmevsodciSySrBNZJa9IZ2TQ2pXGfKjtx5Wc-UqytvJXzIOyXuixYVhszuCbTkwNJB915tX1xcfmw4f2ehxlD4/s320/passion_joan_5.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;">So what might be the point of all of this?</span><b> </b>I’ve mentioned narrative, which is not a subject I’ve devoted much time to, but I’m becoming more curious about the role it plays in the creative process. Stories and music have gone together for as long as there have been people with stories to tell. What we call narrative could be something as simple as the contents of one’s press kit or the promotion for one’s concert. On a personal level it may be the stories we tell ourselves every day about who we think we are. It can be our opinions, ideologies and histories, how we think music and the world ought to be. It is our literature, helping us in understanding the conflicts, contradictions and complexities of life. On another level, perhaps technology can be seen as a kind of narrative given the adage that “the medium is the message”. But the power of our stories is essential to our lives. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joan_of_Arc" target="_blank">Joan of Arc</a> is a compelling narrative. And the story of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Julius_Eastman" target="_blank">Julius </a><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Julius_Eastman">Eastman’s</a> life (he passed in 1990 at the age of 49) is a compelling narrative. Words are powerful, especially when made alive by those who embody the spirit of their expression, not by means of describing an emotion but by knowing it from the inside.</span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;">And yet I wonder how music speaks to someone who may know nothing about it. On some level we want to relate, find ourselves in it, even when we don’t know what’s going on. Any tensions in that process are probably the result of reconciling one’s sense of narrative (who, what, where, when) with the simultaneous quality of the actual experience (everything at the same time, all at once). The narrative is pretty much in the realm of the <b>discriminating mind</b> (what you know, complete with likes and dislikes) while the the <b>discerning mind</b> includes everything you don’t know, but find yourself right in the middle of at that moment. It’s able to take in the larger picture, so long as the tension doesn’t create a short circuit sending you running out of the room. Keep in mind, you don’t have to like it. I might take a moment to point out that this will never be the case with respect to watching a video because it simulates to a large degree some of the emotional and intellectual triggers without presenting you with the real dilemma of reconciling your own physical presence (and all that it entails) with the reality of what you are experiencing. Your presence has everything to do with it. </span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;">This tension is spoken of very concisely by writer and art historian <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2023/05/25/magazine/vermeer-beauty-brutality.html" target="_blank">Teju Cole</a> in the New York Times. <b>“Any work of art is evidence of the material circumstances in which it was produced. The very best works of art are more than evidence. Inside a single frame, within a single great painting, complicity and transcendence coexist.”</b> The complicity he speaks of extends into everything that made the painting possible, both good and bad. That’s a truthful narrative, and it has great value. I also see complicity more broadly, not as in wrongdoing but as in involvement itself. To be born into this world is to be already involved in it. On the part of the viewer, you bring everything to it whether you know what you’re seeing or not. I don’t mean ignorance, but I am saying that you make it alive in a very direct way that is difficult to express in words because it’s dynamic, it goes in both directions.<br /><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">With our stories we investigate what is true, what is believed, what is embraced and what is discarded. As an artist I might ask…</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Does this narrative illuminate, focus and intensify? Or does it simplify and reduce?</i></span></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Is the work strong enough to support this narrative? At what point might the work become overshadowed?</i></span></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Is this narrative political? If so, whose politics?</i></span></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>What of the commodification of this narrative?</i></span></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Does this narrative free one’s spirit or cage it?</i></span></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikPUPSFPsvMqG9riFZDcwBo6evVhTq_q7lrZWNiy9B52o9Eoq1cd60YxnVd21jhATHUCLnNKGvWXJALi9mUbhgXgm9KhZQegFisngn8bglAhYv0i3S7u6qrxjJ3usYhyphenhyphenikZADZG6oRGiQ7QD3kywIkZUVaeI1S0GJlKgxiyUYYyTTKWpFgaFwd3kCbu58/s4032/EEatLC.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikPUPSFPsvMqG9riFZDcwBo6evVhTq_q7lrZWNiy9B52o9Eoq1cd60YxnVd21jhATHUCLnNKGvWXJALi9mUbhgXgm9KhZQegFisngn8bglAhYv0i3S7u6qrxjJ3usYhyphenhyphenikZADZG6oRGiQ7QD3kywIkZUVaeI1S0GJlKgxiyUYYyTTKWpFgaFwd3kCbu58/s320/EEatLC.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></div><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"><b>Of course any notions of “my” narrative may be completely illusory</b> in that any good story needs to accommodate the rest of the world. That connection may not always seem clear. I suppose this blog functions as narrative, I’ve spoken a lot about my mother and father and my hometown of Baltimore but I’ve always felt that the stories of people around me were much more interesting than my own. Above all I was more interested in the music itself, what it could tell me, and so my method was to simply put everything into the horn. That may sound noble but in retrospect I can see that there might also have been some shortcomings in doing that. I can say with some confidence that music probably kept me alive. I had more of a protective feeling about the music than I did about my own sense of self preservation. The narrative legacy of my own father who passed at the age of 37 (a musical mentor in spite of the fact that I have no memory of him) was not one that I wished to replicate.</span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;">In spite of a certain amount of introspection as evidenced here I do pay great attention to what’s happening in the world. I have strong opinions and I have my politics which have not essentially changed much over time (although I am increasingly disenchanted with partisanship). I’d like to feel that my political passions are based in humanitarian ideals. Most folks probably like to think that yet it would seem that we are very good at boxing ourselves into particular roles and relationships based on our perceptions of ourselves and each other, which plays itself out on every level. Fortunately, art can function as an antidote to the ills of politics, not by avoidance but by putting those energies into our creative process, explicitly or implicitly, to be transformed, thereby humanizing our experience.</span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;">Beyond that I’ve always been stubbornly averse to being told what to do, not least of which by the chatter in my own head, some of which I should probably listen to, most of which seems repetitious and annoying, none of which probably has nearly the importance it seems to demand. In spite of all my excess verbiage on the subject, <span style="font-size: medium;">I want to be careful not to be telling things to the music, rather I want music to tell me things.</span> That’s why I emphasize process to the point of embracing the idea of <b>pure music</b> or <b>music for its own sake</b>. That idea is sometimes misunderstood to be exclusionary in some way, negating the circumstances of our lives for the sake of an ideal. But to me, a pure process, one in which we follow its natural course, invites direct experience of the truth we look for, in all of its complexity. It is a simple, but informed, process.</span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;">As for narratives, we need our stories but they ultimately need to fold back in on themselves, to be renewed, to connect with and dissolve into all of the other narratives. It’s easy to carve up our perception of life into a billion different parts and then feel confused about why things are the way they are. Given our present state of affairs it can sometimes be overwhelming when we really allow ourselves to be “in the moment”. At some point that ceases to be a cliché when we are faced with all of our feelings and realize there is no where else to go. <span style="font-size: medium;">Music cuts right through this, it can shatter our world and comfort us at the same time until there is no longer any moment to speak of. I think this is what it means to listen.</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;">P.S. As a reminder, I will be doing a solo concert on December 15th at 7pm taking place at the Zen Center of New York City. Please note that seating is limited and <a href="https://zmm.org/our-programs-2/3226/open-hearth-art-practice-presents-across-breath-voice-silence/" target="_blank">registration is required</a>.</span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: times; font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p></p><p></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-family: Helvetica; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p>Ellery Eskelinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17754806219906266323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507365900573255257.post-79505582127304292042023-09-25T18:49:00.026-04:002023-12-31T12:42:34.687-05:00Times Have Changed...<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Earlier this week I attended a workshop at Manhattan School of Music, as an observer of sorts. </span> I may be doing one of these next year and I like to see how other folks approach teaching and get a sense of what the students are about these days. Pianist <a href="http://jasonmoran.com/index.html" target="_blank">Jason Moran</a>, who is an alumnus of that institution, spoke powerfully to a packed room, touching on a range of history, people and events, most poignantly his relationship with master pianist <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jaki_Byard" target="_blank">Jaki Byard</a>, his teacher at that time. The students were receptive and their performances impressive. I couldn’t help but think about my own experience coming to NYC in 1983, which was quite a different environment than the one these students find themselves in.</span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-family: Helvetica; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">I had been standing in the back by the door when at a certain point during the proceedings trombonist <a href="https://www.msmnyc.edu/faculty/frank-lacy/" target="_blank">Frank Lacy</a> walked over and stood next to me. Frank is on the faculty at MSM. We had played together a number of times in the late 80’s but for whatever reasons had not crossed paths again until that moment. As I wondered whether he even recognized me he leaned in close and whispered, <span style="font-size: medium;"><b>“times have changed”</b></span>. I looked up and smiled as he gave a knowing glance and walked out the door. Those words could not have been more fitting at that moment even as they could have meant so many things. It’s certainly a common refrain and one that is always true, but at this point in my life I no longer take the sentiment for granted. I don’t think Frank does either.</span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-family: Helvetica; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: large; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7814JE-Tfw-5L0BH2Xug7yxHHoJpUHHf37-JHrRSvqnH4wjo1ETqT3dcL9RBHE4xnYhdrUSijUVVqkU0x7hQCBCmvLDhv8CoTZU54PODTXfKVaKDBd1HXn-8lOuHxFCz1eZLmH61RBgcHoSm6tHP3GUcpG4Zwd2bXmhC9edoTWzdi7ni7ROTStMWTvfk/s600/Calcata.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="449" data-original-width="600" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7814JE-Tfw-5L0BH2Xug7yxHHoJpUHHf37-JHrRSvqnH4wjo1ETqT3dcL9RBHE4xnYhdrUSijUVVqkU0x7hQCBCmvLDhv8CoTZU54PODTXfKVaKDBd1HXn-8lOuHxFCz1eZLmH61RBgcHoSm6tHP3GUcpG4Zwd2bXmhC9edoTWzdi7ni7ROTStMWTvfk/s320/Calcata.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Okay, so this post feels way overdue. </span> I <a href="http://elleryeskelin.blogspot.com/2022/12/an-extended-appreciation-of-somewhat.html" target="_blank">mentioned previously</a> that 2023 marks forty years of living in New York City, a milestone that I wanted to address in some way. This turns out to be something of a daunting task and I’m realizing that we only have a few more months remaining before we’re into 2024. If nothing else, New York City is the city that never lets you forget that you’re in New York City…so, keep it moving! As it happens, my sister Stacey Eskelin is a writer who has been living in a small medieval village in Italy (which she <a href="https://cappuccino.substack.com/p/calcata-see-it-and-you-will-never" target="_blank">eloquently describes here</a>) and after ten years has returned to the states, NYC to be exact, and is coming to terms with a kind of culture shock, or “re-entry burns” as she calls them. Her perspective on the city is more vividly rendered than my own and she has a lot to say on the current state of affairs, so I’m going to defer to her and refer you to her substack, which she calls <a href="https://cappuccino.substack.com" target="_blank">“Cappuccino”</a>. Fair warning, Stacey’s rhetorical skills are formidable and her critique can often be ruthless but for all of the right reasons. I might call it compassionate provocation. She calls it “thoughtful entertainment”. </span><span style="font-family: times;">Her latest installment is titled, </span><a href="https://cappuccino.substack.com/p/why-you-might-be-going-crazy" style="font-family: times;" target="_blank">“Why You Might Be Going Crazy”</a><span style="font-family: times;">.</span></p><p></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">With that off my chest there were a number of things I considered writing about this past year, such as <span style="font-size: medium;">the passing of saxophonist Wayne Shorter</span>. That felt big and it may just take more time to absorb the impact of his contribution to music. Saxophonist Peter Brötzmann also passed. Two quite different musicians, each claimed their own sonic territory, both possessed of a tonal richness and complexity that strikes me as having a particular quality that is difficult to put to words, sort of like if <b>the word umami</b> had a sonic equivalent. I’ve been cooking a bit lately and trying to figure out just what umami is, but it seems an apt comparison. </span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">As for current musical inspiration I continue devoting much of my energy to attending chamber music concerts around town, probably<span style="font-size: medium;"> the last bastion of acoustic music performance we have. </span> There were any number of stellar performances to write about, but briefly…</span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">French classical saxophonist <b>Nicolas Prost</b> gave a <a href="https://www.msmnyc.edu/performances/nicolos-prost-saxophone-master-class-lecture-and-performance/" target="_blank">commanding performance at Manhattan School of Music</a> last February, achieving what I would not have thought possible on the instrument, delivered with a depth of musicality. </span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">A dozen students from the organ department at Juilliard elevated the roof of St. Mary’s church in midtown Manhattan with an array of pieces spanning time and stylistic approach. <b>Bach’s Fugue in E-flat major</b>, first published in 1739 and based upon Christian numerology, was a physical and spatial experience of sound, the interlocking parts rotating upwards at various speeds, seemingly into infinity, taking any notions of antiquity and modernity with it.</span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>Messiaen’s “Les oiseaux et les sources from Messe de la Pentecôte”</b> is an organ mass based upon twenty years of his improvising at the instrument during his time at Église de la Sainte-Trinité, in Paris. Perhaps due to his use of bird songs, at times I felt I was in the middle of a rain forest.</span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>Prelude "Vision in Flames" by Akira Nishimura</b> was a particularly intense piece of music. Parts of it would have made my hair stand on end (if I had any). Rather than attempt to describe it I’ll provide this link to <a href="https://youtu.be/ZvT-j67bnpY?si=kROxn7jppI00E5Nw" target="_blank">another performance</a> of it.</span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">In June the <a href="https://www.prismquartet.com" target="_blank">Prism Quartet</a> (<b>Timothy McAllister, Zachary Shemon, Matthew Levy and Taimur Sullivan </b>on saxophones) gave an energized recital of premiers by six composers (Renee Baker, Marcos Balter, Alfredo Cabrera, Flannery Cunningham, Helen Feng and Adam Silverman) each with contrasting approaches yet rendered whole by the consummate skills of this long running, first-rate quartet. As with the aforementioned performance by Nicolas Prost, some of these pieces contained elements associated with jazz and improvised music. The history of blending classical and jazz elements in concert music has often been less than convincing to me as a listener but I’m encouraged of late in that this is becoming a less self conscious endeavor and more a matter of finding the natural musical affinities that exist. As for the saxophone in particular, there still remain some open issues with respect to sound and timbral variety on the part of classically trained saxophonists. I can’t help but think for example of Roscoe Mitchell’s 1976 solo concert from the Willisau Festival in Switzerland (released on the Nessa records label titled “Nonaah”) in which he repeats a single phrase for more than five minutes with a sound so insistent and unrelenting as to transport himself and his listeners to some other plane of existence. The sound of the classical saxophone, while completely different, is equally mysterious to me and so I wonder about this range and how it might be encompassed. Given that improvisation is more frequently being taken on by classically trained musicians I look forward to the continued development of an improvising language that is informed by both traditions.</span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">Certainly none of this exists in a vacuum and it’s worth considering the role that concert presentation plays in this. Concerns about audience share and cultural relevance have resulted in a healthy opening towards other traditions but at the same time I’m concerned that the music can sometimes suffer when the presentation is too beholden to a more casual aesthetic. Case in point, I recently attended a concert at Columbia University’s <a href="https://www.millertheatre.com" target="_blank">Miller Theater</a>, as part of their free series of <b>“Pop Up Concerts”</b>. I admire the intent behind the series and was impressed with the number of folks in attendance at one of their recent events. Dismaying however, was the presence of a bar and PA system playing generic groove music right up until the opening announcements and picked back up again immediately as the performers exited the stage afterwards. Part of the audience was seated on the stage with the performers (in front of an illuminated backdrop) and the rest of us in the hall itself. </span><span style="font-family: times;">With the audience members on stage audibly clinking beer bottles and visibly taking video on their cell phones the audience seated in the hall seemed to lose their focus and began checking email, texting or whatever.</span><span style="font-family: times;"> </span><span style="font-family: times;">I had been looking forward to hearing the ensemble, who called themselves </span><a href="https://www.longleash.org" style="font-family: times;" target="_blank">“Longleash”</a><span style="font-family: times;">, as one of the members, pianist Julia Den Boer, has an impressive solo performance </span><a href="https://roulette.org/event/julia-den-boer-the-underfolding/" style="font-family: times;" target="_blank">archived on the Roulette website</a><span style="font-family: times;">.</span><span style="font-family: times;"> </span><span style="font-family: times;">Unfortunately, the program was overshadowed by the enforced informality, the potentially fascinating subtleties embedded in the music being reduced to pleasant sounds.</span><span style="font-family: times;"> </span><span style="font-family: times;">Other presentations I’ve attended around town have also made efforts to engage the audience in various ways, for example the use of video, which in one case was ostensibly used so that the audience could see the pianist’s hands but instead amounted to a purely unnecessary distraction.</span><span style="font-family: times;"> </span><span style="font-family: times;">There has also been a disconcerting use of amplification at times, which may well be germane to the music but sometimes feels like a concession to the times, as if audiences need to be made to feel as comfortable with their surroundings in the concert hall as they might be at home in their living room.</span><span style="font-family: times;"> </span><span style="font-family: times;">Personally, I would advise concert producers to have more faith in their audience.</span><span style="font-family: times;"> </span><span style="font-family: times;">While challenging music does require something of the listener there are ways to invite people in, empowering them to rise to the occasion.</span><span style="font-family: times;"> </span><span style="font-family: times;">In fact, I think it’s a quality that folks are hungry for and when given that opportunity in a spirit of positive uplift, the music can take on even more power.</span><span style="font-family: times;"> </span><span style="font-family: times;">I should emphasize however that all of the presentations I’ve gone to are run by dedicated folks who are genuinely concerned about the future of this music, my opinions about specific events notwithstanding.</span><span style="font-family: times;"> </span><span style="font-family: times;">Kudos to all involved.</span><span style="font-family: times;"> </span><span style="font-family: times;">And before I forget, there is a new series I’ve discovered called </span><b style="font-family: times;">“Midtown Concerts”</b><span style="font-family: times;"> presented by the </span><a href="https://www.gemsny.org" style="font-family: times;" target="_blank">Gotham Early Music Scene</a><span style="font-family: times;"> at St. Malachy’s church here in midtown Manhattan. </span><span style="font-family: times;">New to me that is, since they’ve been going for twenty five years now.</span><span style="font-family: times;"> </span><span style="font-family: times;">I’ve only been to two concerts so far but it’s wonderful to have a weekly series just minutes away by foot. </span><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRDg4bB2lqp2ogMB6t6Upj_R_1V0zSYQdHgdNeVW91PJw-X1ipIn9RHQUiFslOJGoL7ak_T1ivtXhPozGnRuOgrVdhAr8WN_99bDOfrNlAQ_YKtHeYaTyTGjVkJV1hcILeT659TPNsn5kNw2-mN0IMogJCLkiX0Mu5rpPhVJNSI-HCKg2aCsTxGs7g8JI/s2200/Gloria%20Coates%20%C2%A9%20Other%20Minds%20Festival%20copy.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="2200" height="131" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRDg4bB2lqp2ogMB6t6Upj_R_1V0zSYQdHgdNeVW91PJw-X1ipIn9RHQUiFslOJGoL7ak_T1ivtXhPozGnRuOgrVdhAr8WN_99bDOfrNlAQ_YKtHeYaTyTGjVkJV1hcILeT659TPNsn5kNw2-mN0IMogJCLkiX0Mu5rpPhVJNSI-HCKg2aCsTxGs7g8JI/s320/Gloria%20Coates%20%C2%A9%20Other%20Minds%20Festival%20copy.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">In speaking of concert music and composers I want to acknowledge the recent passing of <b>Gloria Coates</b>, an American composer who spent most of her time in Europe. Gloria was also a dear friend and neighbor during the years she spent in NYC. She was incredibly prolific having written seventeen symphonies and countless chamber works of all kinds. I have no idea where she found the time. Always wonderful to spend an afternoon with, she would often bounce from one subject to another with the same exuberance whether describing something wonderful or something challenging. Gloria had been residing in Munich for some time and I hadn’t seen her in years when in 2019 she suddenly appeared at our door unannounced and proceeded to regale us with the dizzying events of the previous forty-eight hours around a performance of her music at Carnegie Hall which included her becoming stranded in an unfamiliar neighborhood when accommodation plans went awry. Things might have gotten dire but I have to think she was blessed in some way. The <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2023/09/05/arts/music/gloria-coates-dead.html" target="_blank">New York Times wrote this about her</a>.</span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKax4GfGEjYGEhXZhPUZaaRe5v96ekAYyTBSlXZXbPAC66YcXL5XxLMLoxlmHjXmvxmDHqbOpaSghNchWfQHyEj1sGQdZyJGRkYocMrjAy_ezvWOVK3BBkZhA5qc93D57fvYgpNxmltJ3DE2u-XhGuCp-wwdiqsuExOlBxQQpwlW5mmIXNCnwx_vN5JGc/s1070/BLee.jpg" style="clear: left; display: inline; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1070" data-original-width="744" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKax4GfGEjYGEhXZhPUZaaRe5v96ekAYyTBSlXZXbPAC66YcXL5XxLMLoxlmHjXmvxmDHqbOpaSghNchWfQHyEj1sGQdZyJGRkYocMrjAy_ezvWOVK3BBkZhA5qc93D57fvYgpNxmltJ3DE2u-XhGuCp-wwdiqsuExOlBxQQpwlW5mmIXNCnwx_vN5JGc/w139-h200/BLee.jpg" width="139" /></a></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">While I’ve not been devoting as much time to organizing my archives as was the case last year there are still a good many stray items that may or may not fit into the larger scheme of things. Lately I’ve begun looking through letters and other items that <b>my mother</b>, <b><a href="https://elleryeskelin.blogspot.com/2010/05/bobbie-lee-at-hammond-organ.html" target="_blank">organist Bobbie Lee</a></b>, saved over the years, making me wish I had asked more questions about the formative years of her life. She didn’t think of her musical upbringing and career as being all that special but in retrospect I think that’s far from the case. A friend of hers from their teenage years named Myrna McSwain Alford visited me some time after my mother passed and filled me in on their time together playing music. Myrna also played keyboards and the two of them often played as a duo. Myrna's father, being a regional leader of Pentecostal churches in the Maryland, Virginia and Delaware region, took them to many different churches during the 1950’s including African American congregations where they could listen, learn and play. Any formal lessons seemed to be a matter of the teacher playing something and asking you to play it back. It sounds to me like a <span style="font-size: medium;">very direct experience of embodying music within a community, for the benefit of other people,</span> and at a time in which mainstream American culture had intensely mixed and conflicted feelings about race and gender, much of which was repressed. While the country is still in the throes of this it’s good to be reminded that folks have always found ways around these obstacles and that art and music have been so conducive to connecting with what is most true about human nature, those larger and often elusive qualities that we all aspire to in our own way.</span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisesPAbF6PfoAPWR9reKYdnJ4ymws5M0mkrC5hGhAUWPOhzyYelwZkKehFVwBlMCq_Pcv-DgiSOJOTttQa0vP9U6u4yH3XcDPk9rb9z-nNpww6uCYSLDhXhsnZIiwMzakQNwrdSkORqJK651zgDYFZujxGUbvV0F0LdsLO_Eu9Cn-nvFYoRs3jIziLx9U/s687/EE%20first%20review%202:9:60%20Iola%20Review,%20Kansas%20copy.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="687" data-original-width="469" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisesPAbF6PfoAPWR9reKYdnJ4ymws5M0mkrC5hGhAUWPOhzyYelwZkKehFVwBlMCq_Pcv-DgiSOJOTttQa0vP9U6u4yH3XcDPk9rb9z-nNpww6uCYSLDhXhsnZIiwMzakQNwrdSkORqJK651zgDYFZujxGUbvV0F0LdsLO_Eu9Cn-nvFYoRs3jIziLx9U/w136-h200/EE%20first%20review%202:9:60%20Iola%20Review,%20Kansas%20copy.jpg" width="136" /></a></span></div><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">In the process of going through her effects and researching events I come across a couple of incidental items from my earliest days spent on the road as my parents traveled across the country doing gigs and looking for a place to settle. My father, <b style="font-style: normal;">Rodd Keith Eskelin</b>, came from a musical and religious family that provided music for revivals and church services throughout the midwest. After getting married in Baltimore (having met at the church where her father was in charge of the music, leading the congregation with his pedal steel guitar) they set out for Wichita Kansas where Rodd’s father, an amateur violinist, was beginning a new career as a minister. They didn’t stay there very long but I found what amounts to my first press mention from an appearance they did in 1960, published in the Iola Register <i>(click to enlarge)</i>. After leaving Kansas and heading west doing gigs in various towns along the way, a photo was taken of me each time they crossed a state line, only one of which remains, this being our entry into Oklahoma. They got as far as Los Angeles before things took a turn and my mother returned with me to Baltimore.</span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRtd95p5Aj-F7lIhi1fpFcIcDXEseojhdvrEo1r5AH2GZXHZaZpR5cUTqMT_2PBi6uw92rzv5OffdWt68YdzalzbpLK545BvVv0D8yFTkor0Lc0HDQ2QBPvnnOBGs4OMCiNdIy1YoOXH1Lz_wy8nc3dh7P_GNAzahqIv6ejJEqeTUdtt1snaTdnC8LNS4/s2193/ee-okie.jpg" style="clear: left; display: inline; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1575" data-original-width="2193" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRtd95p5Aj-F7lIhi1fpFcIcDXEseojhdvrEo1r5AH2GZXHZaZpR5cUTqMT_2PBi6uw92rzv5OffdWt68YdzalzbpLK545BvVv0D8yFTkor0Lc0HDQ2QBPvnnOBGs4OMCiNdIy1YoOXH1Lz_wy8nc3dh7P_GNAzahqIv6ejJEqeTUdtt1snaTdnC8LNS4/w200-h144/ee-okie.jpg" width="200" /></a></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLNlBJtOES7SbwEFYH7lj9DDgZ1XYUxrY3KpKC17lztbtFT0P_ZK7cfeJydFFj48rFi843KeC04c88OSV_68Sct7fEXq7VAjz3aL21zOiS9RRxyxHWZPSJc7n46IgV1uMwJXmqY6Ym9VS9y_bGAn4TDD4oBY06ygjPz3Ck500KPv1XUsiAmP6mxNHac3o/s143/Mr%20Kaufmansm.jpg" style="clear: right; display: inline; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="143" data-original-width="111" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLNlBJtOES7SbwEFYH7lj9DDgZ1XYUxrY3KpKC17lztbtFT0P_ZK7cfeJydFFj48rFi843KeC04c88OSV_68Sct7fEXq7VAjz3aL21zOiS9RRxyxHWZPSJc7n46IgV1uMwJXmqY6Ym9VS9y_bGAn4TDD4oBY06ygjPz3Ck500KPv1XUsiAmP6mxNHac3o/s16000/Mr%20Kaufmansm.jpg" /></a>Also among her papers was an article I wrote for the high school newspaper titled <b>“Will There Still Be Music in 1978?”</b> I had completely forgotten about this and while I do recognize my “voice” this piece of writing will stay buried in the archive. I do recall that the article upset my band director Mr. Kaufman, by quoting him that “there won’t be any more music left in two years”. I thought the hyperbole was quite apparent but I suppose this is always a writer’s risk. Mr. Kaufman was wonderful, an old school band director from the old country (Germany) who wore a suit and tie to school every day and who tolerated our often strange mid-seventies youth culture with a mixture of concern and dry humor. We had a concert band and orchestra which he excelled at and a “stage band” that he had no real feel for. To his credit he did not let that stand in the way of total devotion to making it work, for which I admired him.</span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Zzc67SHnuHbK0_DcRXN34hzu8-ypyNkmk6wdjxBL6HexEuqFamSncU2jLOYk9QUn7kTTKyD5ZLpWK2kOMMw0gU2hAKxG8mThSOis-wX3OYmmlEPNY-wjfbcJk6ijC9ceEZqoOa4D0uOY-jzUtbJe0P4IrogULsb6dxoPfoo2DrNoKqksjdZCF3-rNeU/s1133/ee_bass%20copy.jpg" style="clear: left; display: inline; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1133" data-original-width="692" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Zzc67SHnuHbK0_DcRXN34hzu8-ypyNkmk6wdjxBL6HexEuqFamSncU2jLOYk9QUn7kTTKyD5ZLpWK2kOMMw0gU2hAKxG8mThSOis-wX3OYmmlEPNY-wjfbcJk6ijC9ceEZqoOa4D0uOY-jzUtbJe0P4IrogULsb6dxoPfoo2DrNoKqksjdZCF3-rNeU/w122-h200/ee_bass%20copy.jpg" width="122" /></a>I would often cut classes and hang out in the band room, messing around with different instruments. He knew I was not supposed to be there but covered for me and showed me the basics of getting around a string bass to the point that I could play it on orchestra concerts. One afternoon I discovered a bunch of old sheet music in a closet, started digging through it and was astonished to find a few <b>Dizzy Gillespie </b>arrangements for big band. I knew that music already, my mother had given me the record when I was eight years old and I listened to it over and over until it made sense to me. I begged Mr. Kaufman to let us play through them and we did, very badly, but still it was thrilling to try. So no, music didn’t stop in 1978 but I’m grateful to Mr. Kaufman for challenging us while also allowing us to do whatever we could manage to get away with, in a good way. <span style="font-size: medium;">There was a certain freedom at that time even if we didn’t always know what to do with it.</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">And speaking of freedom I’m suddenly recalling an even earlier memory, involving the <span style="font-size: medium;">elementary school band director</span> who got me started on the saxophone in 1969. <b>Mr. Reinhardt</b> must have been around twenty-two at the time, the youngest teacher at the school, sporting a mustache and somewhat longer hair than any of the other teachers. I had just received my first horn, one found in the basement of the music store where my grandfather taught guitar. My mother helped me put it together and see if I could get a sound out of it, her knowledge of the saxophone limited to watching the horn player in her band put his together on the gig. One thing she didn’t quite understand was that the keys had to be pressed down in sequence with each other in order to change notes, not individually as on a keyboard. While I was thrilled with the instrument I was frustrated that we couldn't figure it out. I would have to take it to the school and ask the band director if he would teach me. The horn came in a big heavy case and I was invariably asked by folks in the neighborhood<span style="font-size: medium;"> “is that a machine gun ya got in there?” </span> I guess they had seen too many gangster movies. Upon hauling this thing down to the school I located the band director’s room, knocked on the door and waited, then knocked again to no answer. With a palpable disappointment lodged in my chest like a rock I returned home only to try the same thing next day. This time there was a voice from inside saying “come in.” Pushing the door open I see Mr. Reinhardt sitting at a desk along the far wall facing me. His head is down, looking at whatever it is he’s working on, probably a schedule that he'll post to the bulletin board which I see to my right. Oddly he is holding one of the large sheets of paper-board card stock bowed tightly over his head like an umbrella. Hunched over his desk he appears to be vexed with his task and has still not looked at me. I state my intentions, he looks up and exclaims,<span style="font-size: medium;"> <b>“is that a tenor saxophone?”</b> </span> Suddenly his demeanor changes, he is up and across the room, opens the case, assembles the horn and starts playing the Beatles tune “Michelle”, no neck-strap, just holding the horn up, head back, eyes closed, totally immersed in the song, a current hit at the time but rendered with the kind of vibrato you’d associate with music from the 1920’s. He played the entire song, handed me the horn and said in a very laid back manner, “OK, you can be in the band.” <span style="font-size: medium;">I wonder, does this kind of thing happen anymore? I sure hope so.</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">Also on the subject of family, there will be a new release of my father’s music in the coming months. Look for a vinyl compilation of Rodd Keith’s work concentrating on the Chamberlin, a precursor to the more well known Mellotron, a keyboard instrument from the sixties utilizing tape loops and functioning something like the modern sampler. It’s being meticulously produced by musician <b>Wally De Backer </b>(aka <a href="https://www.gotye.com" target="_blank">Gotye</a>) as part of his research into early electronic keyboards,<span style="font-size: medium;"> on a series he calls <a href="https://forgottenfuturesmusic.org" target="_blank">“Forgotten Futures”</a>. </span> I’ll be mentioning more about that upon its release.</span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">So while this post does not necessarily offer anything new, nor does it address the unreasonable task of making sense out of an inordinately large swath of time, it does provide some breathing room as I try and keep my wits about me in the present. <span style="font-size: medium;">Sometimes the act of trying to make sense is simply too much interference with experiencing what you’re trying to make sense of. </span></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyijyCmC6CsbjdDwlsOz_DvYd6uBi3kdnkcqKaQdJKUalUAtrIh5URwZx9c3d29fYi7Slwtx5I7I0vJCiD3dfhYWjKH2n0wwnFlNqLYqMv8py0zhToEoVZ-1oyJ3xAJoE4FQ_zGDwe870l73e3XDKFWTRAeYZ2eEF690laeeZprbxWYqrjZxAWKWNQN3I/s2125/Fire%20Lotus%20by%20Kiho%20copy.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2125" data-original-width="2125" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyijyCmC6CsbjdDwlsOz_DvYd6uBi3kdnkcqKaQdJKUalUAtrIh5URwZx9c3d29fYi7Slwtx5I7I0vJCiD3dfhYWjKH2n0wwnFlNqLYqMv8py0zhToEoVZ-1oyJ3xAJoE4FQ_zGDwe870l73e3XDKFWTRAeYZ2eEF690laeeZprbxWYqrjZxAWKWNQN3I/w200-h200/Fire%20Lotus%20by%20Kiho%20copy.JPG" width="200" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">One last thing…I will be doing a solo concert on December 15th, taking place at the Zen Center of New York City in Brooklyn.</span><span style="font-family: times;"> </span><span style="font-family: times;">It’s a place I have some history with and I’m looking forward.</span><span style="font-family: times;"> </span><span style="font-family: times;">Seating is limited and </span><a href="https://zmm.org/our-programs-2/3226/open-hearth-art-practice-presents-across-breath-voice-silence/" style="font-family: times;" target="_blank">registration is required</a><span style="font-family: times;">.</span></span><p></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><i>PS...</i></span><i style="font-family: times;">Upon taking a break from writing this I went to the fridge and found that my wife had stuck a recent New Yorker cartoon on the door. While it’s not necessarily an expression of her own feelings it does seem apropos…(click to enlarge)</i></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE7mTO6sx3a3YMsdosb0xEtsjOCcW7xGOdtVo184ZianUP5Cf3rdkYxNoSenlCyIiDQyd0yHmhKZwAnJn_hLE62Wlnm1_u4Wxh2suQY-IXX7MZ3HBdyEhlwhDkB2keWL9x7xZ6j-jwMJVE1q8H427Mj6O16aS0tmiP_38cSBNqwfA9dewrtLaDRkpqCj8/s847/NYorkerHAT.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="717" data-original-width="847" height="169" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE7mTO6sx3a3YMsdosb0xEtsjOCcW7xGOdtVo184ZianUP5Cf3rdkYxNoSenlCyIiDQyd0yHmhKZwAnJn_hLE62Wlnm1_u4Wxh2suQY-IXX7MZ3HBdyEhlwhDkB2keWL9x7xZ6j-jwMJVE1q8H427Mj6O16aS0tmiP_38cSBNqwfA9dewrtLaDRkpqCj8/w200-h169/NYorkerHAT.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="-webkit-font-kerning: auto; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><br /></p>Ellery Eskelinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17754806219906266323noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507365900573255257.post-30916118620839186872023-04-16T12:47:00.010-04:002023-04-23T12:00:32.549-04:00A Radio Interview<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg44S07VA1xebMzdmLN0RTmRNe1LqnYyst_VySIG1k6YlCpOc1YX_2-q9bIdde33Q7rP2f5gXhVxZ7FNmQuqtg80_UHmSEXVkaeELuxR4I9PvZL_ELxVslIPZN9IJh3iq9GRxyJFMzQlA5jtQ2YM0nnUxtcMvkdwjfPof4KnBOe7goUCBmUhPYrl6zv/s577/DaveS.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="577" data-original-width="392" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg44S07VA1xebMzdmLN0RTmRNe1LqnYyst_VySIG1k6YlCpOc1YX_2-q9bIdde33Q7rP2f5gXhVxZ7FNmQuqtg80_UHmSEXVkaeELuxR4I9PvZL_ELxVslIPZN9IJh3iq9GRxyJFMzQlA5jtQ2YM0nnUxtcMvkdwjfPof4KnBOe7goUCBmUhPYrl6zv/w218-h320/DaveS.jpg" width="218" /></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;">Veteran saxophonist Dave Sewelson has just invited me to be a guest on his radio program. </span> Dave has been living in NYC since 1977 and has played with an array of wonderful musicians. I look forward to conversing with him and comparing notes on a swath of music history. Along the way I'll be sharing some recordings, not yet sure what, putting that together now. Of special note is the fact that this will be done under the auspices of <a href="https://wfmu.org/" target="_blank">WFMU radio</a>, a broadcasting institution that has served as an essential part of the cultural soundscape for decades. They are in fact the longest-running free-form radio station in the U.S. I first visited the station for an on-air performance with Andrea Parkins and Jim Black back in 1995 on DJ Doug Schulkind's program "<a href="https://www.wfmu.org/drummer" target="_blank">Give the Drummer Some</a>" which has now taken on a life of it's own as an internet-only arm of WFMU's global reach. "Music For a Free World with Dave Sewelson" being a regular Saturday afternoon program on "Give the Drummer Some", itself being a long-time part of WFMU radio at large, it all feels quite appropriate.<p></p><p><b>Here are the particulars:</b></p><p>Saturday, April 22nd, 2023<br />between the hours of 2 pm and 5 pm, eastern standard time</p><p><b>Listen in real-time at these coordinates (program will also be archived at this same link):</b></p><p><a href="https://wfmu.org/playlists/shows/126741" target="_blank">https://wfmu.org/playlists/shows/126741</a></p><p><b>Listen to any of the significant number of other interviewees Dave has amassed since 2019:<br /></b><br /><a href="https://www.wfmu.org/playlists/FI" target="_blank">https://www.wfmu.org/playlists/FI</a></p><p><b>If you'd like to know more about Dave and his music please locate yourself here:</b></p><p><a href="http://www.sewelsonics.com" target="_blank">www.sewelsonics.com</a></p><p><a href="https://sewelson.bandcamp.com/" target="_blank">https://sewelson.bandcamp.com/</a></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Ellery Eskelinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17754806219906266323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507365900573255257.post-45703728910449985502023-02-14T13:27:00.000-05:002023-02-14T13:27:24.835-05:00in 2023 / a renewed emphasis on teaching<p><b><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></b></p><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;">With this new year I’d like to take the opportunity to emphasize my teaching practice here in NYC</span>,</b> something that has become an essential part of my creative practice as a musician, that of helping other musicians to develop and realize their creative practice. <br /><br />Given that music and education are social activities it is essential that this is done in person in order to fully embody the experience of listening, learning and music making. I offer private teaching that is designed and structured towards fulfilling your musical experience while addressing the necessary skills in attaining your goals.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMqTR6OjUKUFnrQaTiC2vEP56VXRM8BbAu_4NfEl9Rl8g2pOJdqC1T16kOOMIzKdAcj0t6_AbKxb-TCMWWFxjekXRvDAErZgZT0HaUejhQKDQIpWZlwDaPu0Z5qS6UZDEyQghLibYlc-MHNgpCgYByZeUJQ8r7gOAbzZ27oax7ujA8k-to1UosT0gf/s621/EETeach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="490" data-original-width="621" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMqTR6OjUKUFnrQaTiC2vEP56VXRM8BbAu_4NfEl9Rl8g2pOJdqC1T16kOOMIzKdAcj0t6_AbKxb-TCMWWFxjekXRvDAErZgZT0HaUejhQKDQIpWZlwDaPu0Z5qS6UZDEyQghLibYlc-MHNgpCgYByZeUJQ8r7gOAbzZ27oax7ujA8k-to1UosT0gf/s320/EETeach.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>For those of you who cannot come to NYC I also offer video consultation geared towards the exploration of musical concepts in improvisation as well as practical issues concerning aspects of education, business and career.<br /><br />I offer a perspective that comes from over forty years of experience performing all over the world, as well as having honed the craft of teaching as guest artist in institutions in the US and abroad as well as in my private teaching practice.<br /><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">I invite you to find <a href="https://www.elleryeskelin.com/teaching" target="_blank">full information on the teaching page</a> of my website which includes contact information should you have any questions. I look forward to hearing from you...<br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p>Ellery Eskelinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17754806219906266323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507365900573255257.post-35710674128787288172022-12-18T20:59:00.015-05:002023-02-26T10:12:27.049-05:00An Extended Appreciation (of a somewhat confused nature)<p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>2022/23...</b></span><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidnGiMa2WhG5VxkR6m_Hh-fTQGafPsnPVNBJAHV--q6tBjWRgFH3w4af4-cw7JlieFDG38Ml4YIbpINmO2uGnBL1qFEuEqWuS1cGe_LiEUeZJr4beY6x8GrMlMrLnZQHMyYDaJFQkdvBoIX-mVBUSVG4RZCRw9W0GIKMa5PwMpIs6uMLBuN67RTc4z/s1104/TSq.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="737" data-original-width="1104" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidnGiMa2WhG5VxkR6m_Hh-fTQGafPsnPVNBJAHV--q6tBjWRgFH3w4af4-cw7JlieFDG38Ml4YIbpINmO2uGnBL1qFEuEqWuS1cGe_LiEUeZJr4beY6x8GrMlMrLnZQHMyYDaJFQkdvBoIX-mVBUSVG4RZCRw9W0GIKMa5PwMpIs6uMLBuN67RTc4z/s320/TSq.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p><b>We are fast approaching 2023, an old year out, a new year in. </b>It was in March of 1983 that I made the move to New York City, as in forty years ago, kind of a large number. Maybe I’ll have some thoughts about that down the road but at the moment it feels compelling to note the passing of this year in the traditional way, an assessment in consideration of the way forward as we enter into the coming new one. <br /><br />On a note of gratitude I might begin by sharing an appreciation of music. <br /><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>“There's nothing like being in the presence of great musical artistry…as an example of the very best we are as human beings; the music, the performing, the whole shebang.”</i></span><br /><br />That was written to me by a friend. I was surprised because this person operates in a different field, one in which they don’t have the opportunity to hear very much music. It was in response to mentioning that I’d attended many chamber music concerts this year and how healing that felt after such a long absence. <br /><br />I’ve already written about some of these concerts and have perhaps risked over-romanticizing them as a type of rarefied experience. I should probably point out that reintegrating myself back into public life was actually a bit jarring even as I was happy to be out of the house. Just getting to the concert often felt like an ordeal, the streets of Manhattan can be quite harsh these days. Arriving at the hall was blessed relief but then I wasn’t sure I liked the feel of the seat or whether it’s placement offered the best sound and sight-lines. The conversation emanating from the seats behind me was a bit too much information. And the phones! So many phones. <br /><br />Then in the midst of all of this I remembered, wasn’t it always this way? Maybe not the phones, that’s a whole new thing. But listening to music always involved being around other people in situations that were often less than perfect. At first glance my friend’s comment seems to be glorifying the ideals of music but in looking again, it’s actually a statement about humanity. His appreciation of music is an appreciation of people, actual folks doing actual things.<br /><br />I’ll mention at this point that I recently played music with another person for the first time in almost three years. I used the word sabbatical in my previous post, one of a number of possible euphemisms that I remain uncertain about. But before getting to that please allow me to wax effusive about some recent listening experiences around the city.<br /><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><br />A Brief Reportage upon Recent Concert-going</b></span><br /><br /><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6IXxswq-kkP7Ljd50uliJgkPEWAOMMqYqA2YjKQr2osy2GzQVZyAi7G6pd-VhlyqUEqMQ_pTkkDUOmyOCBu8BHYUnLN_NE-ci2oDqYFKZDl8DemAqYs2JwAlWjpUXL6mZThqeZWcuGYj5c4dI4BGcrLzOaZBAoNbte4wl4l65CpDFmvXMyDYocKvo/s942/ATully.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="524" data-original-width="942" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6IXxswq-kkP7Ljd50uliJgkPEWAOMMqYqA2YjKQr2osy2GzQVZyAi7G6pd-VhlyqUEqMQ_pTkkDUOmyOCBu8BHYUnLN_NE-ci2oDqYFKZDl8DemAqYs2JwAlWjpUXL6mZThqeZWcuGYj5c4dI4BGcrLzOaZBAoNbte4wl4l65CpDFmvXMyDYocKvo/s320/ATully.jpg" width="320" /></a></b></div><b>Axiom</b>, a new music ensemble at <b>Juilliard</b>, gave a concert at Alice Tully Hall in October including music by <b>Elliot Carter</b> and <b>George Crumb</b>. My favorite was a composition by composer <b>Unsuk Chin </b>titled <b>Akrostichon-Wortspiel</b> creating a lush sonic tapestry using quarter-tone sonorities orchestrated in the lower registers of the ensemble. The voice of soprano soloist <b>Marisa Karchin</b> was clear and precise while retaining a warmth and roundness throughout her impressive range. In a subsequent performance this season they featured a piece by composer <b>Tōru Takemitsu</b> from 1987 titled <b>Nostalghia</b> for violin and string orchestra. The harmonies employed throughout this piece were subtle yet evocative, exquisitely sustaining a delicate construction for the entire duration. <br /><br />Also at Juilliard was a presentation of works for piano by <b>Rachmaninoff</b> and <b>Scriabin</b>, a dozen pieces performed by eleven student pianists in chronological order, alternating between the two composers. On paper it sounded a bit heavy and I almost opted not to attend although I’m glad I did. Each of the pianists played the same instrument yet the differences in sound between them was astonishing. Things started off on solid footing even as I wondered about the clarity of certain passages and their timing. These works are notoriously difficult with multiple independent melodic lines weaving throughout the registers of the piano and between the right and left hands of the pianist. But by the end of the first half things had gone from from good to great. Each pianist sat in the audience listening to the others, so I can’t imagine the mounting pressure they must have felt after hearing an especially invigorating rendition by one of their peers. At the top of the second half the performances were sounding so good I assumed we had reached a plateau, but no, the evening continued it’s upward trajectory and we were now hearing musical gestures full of mind-boggling complexity rendered whole, compositions coming fully alive with an effortless and breathtaking command. The works by <b>Scriabin</b> were of particular interest given that he was working with dissonance in a unique way for his time, this being particularly evident in the <b>Three Etudes Opus 65 (1912)</b>. You can see the <a href="https://www.juilliard.edu/event/160011/pianoscope-rachmaninoff-and-scriabin" target="_blank">program and performers names here.</a><br /><br />While contemporary music is my focus I also encountered works from <b>Bartok</b> and <b>Beethoven</b>, hearing them anew by way of the <b>Orion String Quartet</b> at the CUNY graduate center as part of their monthly series. Also presented on the series was <b>Hayden’s String Quartet in D minor Opus 76, No 2</b> performed by a quartet of graduate students. Essentially I felt very little difference between this work from 1797 and much of the contemporary music I’ve heard this season. Of course the language is different yet so many of the formal devices are quite similar.<br /><br /><br /><b><span style="font-size: medium;">The Art of Hot Air</span></b><br /><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJBtredrHFpnRM4BNu1zSm3C269JbnCaIO8zvnk0kup_rog5mlMOfWMVAnToyVnJIWdLSrVKTz38ZmNQgCRPTIeNue1AMfNcl1VxrU1GBRpfuAMkMcntaiNQ0vq9UF52roMvwUBOgQ_tTtQDxgu36S6HbvUsSt9s-Ia9DOn_2jjpS2mRUbLseColp4/s865/Baroque%20Bassoon.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="865" data-original-width="452" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJBtredrHFpnRM4BNu1zSm3C269JbnCaIO8zvnk0kup_rog5mlMOfWMVAnToyVnJIWdLSrVKTz38ZmNQgCRPTIeNue1AMfNcl1VxrU1GBRpfuAMkMcntaiNQ0vq9UF52roMvwUBOgQ_tTtQDxgu36S6HbvUsSt9s-Ia9DOn_2jjpS2mRUbLseColp4/s320/Baroque%20Bassoon.jpg" width="167" /></a></div>Going back even further was a Juilliard Historical Performance Faculty Recital by a trio calling themselves <b>“Les Basses Réunies”</b> comprised of bassoonist <b>Dominic Teresi,</b> cellist <b>Phoebe Carrai</b> and harpsichordist <b>Béatrice Martin</b> offering music from the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries on period instruments. Here’s a question, have you ever seen a bassoon from the Baroque era? It’s got no keys on it, just open holes arranged along a piece of wood about four and a half feet in length. Sitting in the front row of a small performance space I was struck by the physicality involved in their playing of these early instruments. I don’t want to say that it looked like hard work but my sense is that these instruments do require a bit more effort in bringing out their essential sonic qualities, which are in fact different than modern instruments. As a result you get the sense that the ensemble interprets the music in a different way than might be expected. The concert was fabulous, one could easily sense the unity between composer, performers, instruments, room and listeners. It was the sheer physicality of this concert which made me realize it was time to play again with other musicians. <br /><br />After three years of playing the saxophone alone, playing with another person (in this case an informal get-together with drummer <b>Devin Gray</b>) was to be an occasion of some anticipation and some degree of uncertainty. Instead it felt very much like picking back up from wherever it was I might have left off, except that I’ve been practicing religiously during all of this time, resulting in some notable differences. Foremost was my surprise in just how far into the physicality of playing I could go and still have the music function. After about a half hour of playing I noticed that all of my attention was centered in the sensation of shaping the air column and how that felt in my entire body. The sound of the horn and the sound of the drums were of course present but I didn’t need to track them in quite the usual way. This coincided with noticeably better note choices, better phrasing, better interaction and better music as a result. A lesson in how much you can let go of and still account for everything. My thanks to Les Basses Réunies for the inspiration.<br /><br /><br /><b><span style="font-size: medium;">The Telegraph as Virtual Reality</span></b><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp4WaVnMuF8Yxipam_PG6e0m8YOfJBN0FpnPDIgqZ9lG9Etsf6KwgyPJ0d6t_IilDWUb1p3wIvCdcWvKrk6_8Yhf_04tvII8ppepDGsnLhWRpWJjM0KyDtAAo2fECA0Cq3KV6_1MtAGf5ESAjg3obJlbz3MnxFjpM5XHqFN8PSO729D4vCzvYCvoOY/s1000/Printing_Telegraph.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1000" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp4WaVnMuF8Yxipam_PG6e0m8YOfJBN0FpnPDIgqZ9lG9Etsf6KwgyPJ0d6t_IilDWUb1p3wIvCdcWvKrk6_8Yhf_04tvII8ppepDGsnLhWRpWJjM0KyDtAAo2fECA0Cq3KV6_1MtAGf5ESAjg3obJlbz3MnxFjpM5XHqFN8PSO729D4vCzvYCvoOY/s320/Printing_Telegraph.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Those of you who read this blog know that I have increasingly been an advocate for <b>acoustic music</b> over the years. There is nothing new to say here except that I continue to be enthralled in it’s virtues. Readers of this blog also know that I speak often about the effects of technology on our experience of music. Here again comes the risk of repeating one’s self except for the fact that we do seem to be at an inflection point that needs to be understood. <br /><br />I am in no sense a scholar on social issues but certain questions have always seemed important. As a kid I didn’t particularly like to be in<b> cars</b>. I recall my mother once driving me home after a music lesson, stopping for fast-food take-out which I ate in the back seat of the car as we continued driving. There was something deeply incongruent, if not depressing, about eating a meal while moving, watching strangers in their individual metal boxes passing by, each staring straight ahead. Later, in my teens, I decided to give up watching<b> television</b>, a youthful snobbishness about it all covering up that same uncomfortable feeling of watching people stare blankly into the tube. <br /><br />At a certain point in my twenties I began to wonder how much of my experience of life had been actual and how much had been an<b> experience of media</b>. Meaning how much of what I knew about the world had come from television, movies, radio and recordings? And how easy was it to take that for granted, imagining events that I was never a part of as if I had somehow experienced them.<br /><br />We’ve come a long distance. We now have the<b> internet</b> and the <b>mobile phone</b>. In this day and age a discussion about music is usually a discussion about technology. This also seems to be true with respect to any topic we might discuss; politics, environment, medicine, science, art, social issues, philosophy and even religion, continuing to use the language of time and place even when so many activities that we once did in person have become digitized. The New York Times ran a piece not too long ago about the importance of checking-in with friends for the benefit of our well being. I finished reading the entire article before realizing that every example given was a use of technology, like <b>sending a text</b>. While these things might lead to getting together face-to-face, more often they function as a delaying mechanism for doing so.<br /><br />There are times in thinking about this when I am tempted to view the entire trajectory of media technology, beginning with the <b>telegraph</b>, as leading inevitably to <b>virtual reality.</b> Of course that is a jaundiced view but it does cross my mind. Less dystopian but still somewhat unsettling is the idea that for most folks living today, the majority of the music they have heard in their lives has been of the recorded variety. And when live, almost always amplified. <br /><br />Is that good, bad or does it really matter? It also occurs to me that the history of jazz largely coincides with the history of recorded music. A music that so values the spontaneity of the moment has also been shaped by the recording process acting as an accelerant to it’s very development. The received wisdom throughout most of that time was always that live was best. I’m genuinely uncertain about how that plays out today.<br /><br /><br /><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Socially Distanced Jazz</span></b> <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI_lTcWFxD2w8keQPw-MshEipLK9y3flG3sH2PpXoNx_MhBxqHMWLhAoNYZTQoC0k3n6Um7XbWYbrQeYyNLR1TBItBCKw9sOY6xgodTWbhtzechNd7hRIVvbo5TQZuDjBoolX19TgG0DeCecbJ-aLI0Ov5FrLUXsZBkmhIvp9fjLQVjMfd0dpNQEQV/s640/BHolidayBook.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="408" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI_lTcWFxD2w8keQPw-MshEipLK9y3flG3sH2PpXoNx_MhBxqHMWLhAoNYZTQoC0k3n6Um7XbWYbrQeYyNLR1TBItBCKw9sOY6xgodTWbhtzechNd7hRIVvbo5TQZuDjBoolX19TgG0DeCecbJ-aLI0Ov5FrLUXsZBkmhIvp9fjLQVjMfd0dpNQEQV/s320/BHolidayBook.jpg" width="204" /></a></div>In his book<b> “Billie Holiday: The Musician and the Myth”</b>, author John Szwed offers a vivid portrayal of what music was like in the famed clubs along New York’s fifty-second street:<p><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>“They were small, maybe fifteen feet by sixty feet, and were located in the basements of brownstone residences. They featured miniature tables for a few dozen people, little space for dancing, and no air-conditioning. Small-band jazz was born and raised here: music without amplification, with sonic qualities that suited the spaces in which it emerged. Sitting so close to a band and a singer, one could hear the sizzle and rattle of cymbals, the deep thump of a bass drum, the mix of air and sound coming from the horns, the depth and resonance of the piano, the breathing of a singer, all features that recordings never manage to capture. It was the musical equivalent of the deep blacks and silvery whites of 1950s photography, an acoustic reality lost to us as musicians and listeners, dependent as we all are on amplification, mixing, filtering, recording, the dry ice of digitization, and monster video screens.”</i><br /></span><br />Musical values have changed since that time in ways having a great deal to do with technology. Over time, live concerts have increasingly come to resemble their recorded counterparts. Suddenly we’ve arrived at a point in which credible sounding jazz music is being made at a distance, band members adding their individual parts to a recording at different times and from different locations, never actually seeing or hearing each other. While this may be an extreme example (one clearly birthed out of the pandemic) the fact that I can not always tell the difference makes me uneasy in that it points out just how artificial recordings have become over time even as we espoused the virtues of live interaction all along. <br /><br />Have we been deceiving ourselves a bit? Maybe, but the recorded history of this music has undoubtedly been a tremendous gift. It is the live experience that I am more concerned about. How might we reconcile the virtues of the concert hall in it’s most basic unmediated form with the world at large, in which our lives are increasingly intertwined with digital devices?<br /><br />We musicians are just as dependent on technology as most other folks, perhaps a bit more, and I sense that we are each trying to find our way in this. Combining the need for self-promotion with social awareness can be awkward in a capitalist culture, especially one in which the effects of social media cast a performative gloss over everything that passes through it. I do question how sustainable it all is.<br /><br /><br /><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Stranded on the Island of Manhattan (with Ralph Kramden)</span></b><br /><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiWuRu388WvVm-w4HwjuAugrBLmw1gjw1JVNFF--TI_NlxaPSfn8XSjbDsizDXPY6gEykQAn_jgd-YZlLFiHroAKphwYI_gDFHbI6EnN3WSj3M9gvE2m9F14_lWGs3dI7uV9OhVE7u3CTpxZk7VlBbz4H5qMPRJit67p9-Oqv7X8_nFMUZ1XAKbKxt/s793/RK.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="793" data-original-width="595" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiWuRu388WvVm-w4HwjuAugrBLmw1gjw1JVNFF--TI_NlxaPSfn8XSjbDsizDXPY6gEykQAn_jgd-YZlLFiHroAKphwYI_gDFHbI6EnN3WSj3M9gvE2m9F14_lWGs3dI7uV9OhVE7u3CTpxZk7VlBbz4H5qMPRJit67p9-Oqv7X8_nFMUZ1XAKbKxt/s320/RK.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>I live near <b>Times Square</b>, an utterly insane landscape with respect to the amount of electrical wattage devoted to robbing you of your attention. After decades of living in this neighborhood (quaintly known as <b>Hell’s Kitchen</b>) you might think one would become inured to the cacophony. Certainly many people seem to be, casually carrying on cell-phone conversations oblivious to everything around them, not the least of which might be the fire truck they are standing next to, stuck in traffic, sirens blaring at an obscene decibel level. <p></p><p>People always ask me<b> “how do you deal, do you ever get used to it?”</b> No one should never get used to this. And I should never get used to seeing people on the streets talking to themselves even when I know they are hooked in to a phone through wireless earbuds. Even more so when they are in the throws of an argument, all by themselves. One evening while walking by the Port Authority bus station I heard a woman yelling loudly and gesticulating wildly at a statue. It’s the one of Ralph Kramden (of television fame) on Eighth Avenue and 40th street. Actually, she was standing behind old Ralphie boy, screaming straight into his backside. Apparently she had her cell phone propped up on the lunchbox Ralph was carrying and was having it out with someone unseen, big time. I was relieved to see that she was actually in a conversation but it was just about as distressing as if she had not been. As strange as the whole thing was, she was clearly in the throws of real emotional pain. And yet even as she was surrounded by people and connected to someone she knew via her phone, she seemed completely isolated and cut off from any kind of human contact that might have helped. <br /><br />This is a rather extreme example of the socially distorting effects of technology but this kind of thing is becoming a daily occurrence. Clearly there are many advantages afforded in the digital realm but reconciling all of this too often becomes a tedious exercise involving all of the pro and con arguments we already know too well. <br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Forty-One Questions without an Answer</b></span><br /><br />A new year being an opportunity to take up resolutions, I’d like to pass along something I read. It’s an <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2021/08/03/podcasts/transcript-ezra-klein-interviews-lm-sacasas.html " target="_blank">interview done by journalist Ezra Klein with media critic L.M. Sacasas</a> who has created <b>a list of questions to ask about one’s use of technology</b>, forty-one of them to be precise. <br /><br />I invite you to read the full list, it’s <a href="https://theconvivialsociety.substack.com/p/the-questions-concerning-technology#details" target="_blank">included in his own essay.</a> <br /><br />It starts with this question:<i> <span style="font-size: medium;">“What sort of person will the use of this technology make of me?” </span></i><br /><br />Some of the other questions are:<br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><i>“How will the use of this technology affect how I relate to other people?”<br />“What feelings does the use of this technology generate in me toward others?”<br />“What does my use of this technology require of others who would (or must) interact with me?”<br />“What assumptions about the world does the use of this technology tacitly encourage?”</i></span><br /><br />Here’s a good one:<br /><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><i> “Does my use of this technology encourage me to view others as a means to an end?”</i></span><br /><br />These questions are all oriented on an appreciation of other people. I think it’s that very shift in focus that allows for progress. Makes me wonder about what kinds questions we might ask as musicians and artists given that technology has always been a factor in music making, embedded in the history of the very instruments we play.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Failed Innovations that Changed the World</b></span><br /><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUXyoBPLsd7I__tDJictU0rFkrztLegQzlzjN_kQ_xFV83CHCDq9mkoiD3deHgP0E_K7KNqwGbGVBCS23gaOKq0hlgPnhNLUChr5sQJZtYKzPWf4TIRAGSotJf5hyqe6QjxPkCGjah5GrIUmsFabeqqsIzWQmK37Ga__F0id7bfJXUf8sydkpP1ugK/s3890/ASax.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3890" data-original-width="2874" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUXyoBPLsd7I__tDJictU0rFkrztLegQzlzjN_kQ_xFV83CHCDq9mkoiD3deHgP0E_K7KNqwGbGVBCS23gaOKq0hlgPnhNLUChr5sQJZtYKzPWf4TIRAGSotJf5hyqe6QjxPkCGjah5GrIUmsFabeqqsIzWQmK37Ga__F0id7bfJXUf8sydkpP1ugK/s320/ASax.jpg" width="236" /></a></div>All of the concerts I have attended this year have been of classical chamber music and many of them have taken place in music schools such as Juilliard. It’s rare to hear a saxophone played in a chamber music setting and Juilliard does not even have a classical saxophone department. And why is that I wonder? Fortunately the <b>Manhattan School of Music</b> does, and it’s an impressive one, led by performer, teacher, historian and collector of rare saxophones, <b>Paul Cohen</b>. <br /><br />Within this tradition there are a number of schools of playing (French school, American school, the German “Rascher" school) and I once asked Paul which one he aligned with. He replied that his approach comes from the<b> "orchestral school" </b>of saxophone playing, one that I had not heard of. In fact, the saxophone was invented in the 1840s and envisioned as an orchestral instrument even as the composition of the orchestra was well established by that time. While the saxophone has never gained a permanent role in the orchestra there is a tradition of wind pedagogy that applies very well to the instrument, which is where Paul’s approach comes from. In a newsgroup posting he elaborated: <br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><i>“The biggest influence on sound came from my college teacher, Galan Krall (also Pat Meighan's teacher) who is an oboist by trade. He schooled us in the nuance and subtlety of sound from his orchestra experiences. This was a seminal experience in understanding the meaning and effect of an artistic tone quality.”</i></span><br /><br />In an <a href="https://barrysax.com/paul-cohen-new-york-saxophonist-and-historian/ " target="_blank">interview from 2019 </a>Paul extends the idea of an “artistic tone quality” past technique to include his audience stating:<br /><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>“It’s about how we take these things and create a much greater artistic experience for the listener.”</i></span><br /><br />I’ve been to a number of performances by Paul’s students presenting a wide array of music written for saxophone, far more than I was aware of. While musicality is stressed above sheer virtuosity there is little shortage of technical acumen among his students. This is admirable given that I sometimes suspect that within the world of classical saxophone the push towards ever increasing virtuosity may stem from a feeling of having something to prove. Fortunately I am hearing more young players who are using their formidable skills towards expanding the music rather than just the instrument. <br /><br />The saxophone has made it’s mark across almost all musical genres but when played in accord with it’s original conception, unique qualities are revealed, this being an instrument of some mystery. As such, I was impressed by a composition written by <b>Shuwen Liao</b>, a student at the Manhattan School of Music. Her composition <b>Feather of Fantasy</b>, for saxophone quartet, juxtaposes fast moving, softly played utterances from two of the players while the other two create barely audible harmonies against this. The effect was moving and almost subliminal (I sensed it before I actually heard it) taking full advantage of the saxophone’s inherent ambiguity and diffuse tonal nature<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6UxdFEDJ8HmCUQW9OdYneUDSoG5D37UJ7pU9Li3eXRuBONWPAJj2Cv1LuoMd1p_892J3l876VGgNkdF37mEN1j7zTh6iah2GPehcIvVB_5KNQojex9eqm2Ub4r2GTk7EuNYIkTIjvxkjU7D5ioovF_EOfRBLuvqDUQWrVGky1hxS-HTvFYk_1iVCD/s1073/PCohen.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1073" data-original-width="479" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6UxdFEDJ8HmCUQW9OdYneUDSoG5D37UJ7pU9Li3eXRuBONWPAJj2Cv1LuoMd1p_892J3l876VGgNkdF37mEN1j7zTh6iah2GPehcIvVB_5KNQojex9eqm2Ub4r2GTk7EuNYIkTIjvxkjU7D5ioovF_EOfRBLuvqDUQWrVGky1hxS-HTvFYk_1iVCD/s320/PCohen.jpg" width="143" /></a></div>In a fitting close to the semester Paul presented a faculty concert of his own, playing soprano and alto saxophones in various settings, offering up one of the warmest sounds on the saxophone that I have yet heard. One of the pieces Paul presented involved an exceedingly rare and obscure instrument made in 1928 by the <b>Conn instrument company</b> called the <b>conn-o-sax.</b> In his program notes he describes just how innovative an instrument this was, remarking that <span style="font-size: medium;"><i>“it succeeded brilliantly as a new instrument but failed in the marketplace”</i>. </span>Speaking about it’s<span style="font-size: medium;"><i> “visionary design and tonal qualities”</i></span> he describes it as being the most coveted of rare vintage saxophones, it’s <span style="font-size: medium;"><i>“haunting, brooding tone”</i> </span>continuing to captivate woodwind players over the generations. He finishes with some passion, stating <span style="font-size: medium;"><i>“the conn-o-sax has found a new voice in the 21st century”</i>. </span> I find that to be a lovely and inspiring idea, wedding notions of physicality with the function of technology and innovation in our lives. <br /><br />You should understand that there are only <b>twenty-five</b> of these instruments still known to exist in the world. The number of people in the audience was even less than that. (It is not my intention to sound critical, I once played to an audience of three people, one of whom left half-way through.) But despite the impracticality of his statement, it somehow feels completely true.<br /><br />It’s probably best not to analyze this any further. Sometimes when something feels true that you can’t otherwise explain, you just follow it. <br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>The Skill of Not Knowing</b></span><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXG8YwZqgVk-obw7Tli2ZAU6rFsAuCYAYd8pbiuYTIZiXme--Q5pwFrNsyYtZsByTN6_Vfi3VVo2UqVgmBMl-695O3FeY6bD6JUIgjVtSTen2xYGCWEvXfAh63ocpXHmGuEpIYl-kjTuWidkml-SXIcldVieD2KlwgBToMlgbqLDMa9HUAxEFL-lb4/s550/HCross.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="413" data-original-width="550" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXG8YwZqgVk-obw7Tli2ZAU6rFsAuCYAYd8pbiuYTIZiXme--Q5pwFrNsyYtZsByTN6_Vfi3VVo2UqVgmBMl-695O3FeY6bD6JUIgjVtSTen2xYGCWEvXfAh63ocpXHmGuEpIYl-kjTuWidkml-SXIcldVieD2KlwgBToMlgbqLDMa9HUAxEFL-lb4/s320/HCross.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>When I think about the fact that I’ll soon attempt writing on the subject of being in New York for forty years, notions of practicality and rationalization tend to fade in importance. One thing I can say is that when things are clicking, New York City is an amazing place to be. And when things are not going well, New York City is one of the most difficult environments you could find yourself in. Just this morning as my wife and I went out for coffee we saw a long line of people cued up on 42nd Street. When we finally passed the front of the line we discovered that they were there to receive food from Holy Cross Church, this on a thirty degree day. While some of these folks were homeless, the majority were not.<p>Human beings are amazingly resilient and adaptable, we compartmentalize our experiences very well, out of necessity. New York City will grind you to a pulp if you can’t manage to do that. <b>But all of the seemingly disparate events I’ve described, and struggled to present with any degree of coherency, are all part of one experience.</b> If we compartmentalize too well, taking for granted the incremental changes taking place around us, we may one day find ourselves shocked when we look up and see the number of folks standing in a food line. <br /><br />Does our use of technology help us to see this or does it tend to alienate us from our physical experience of life? That’s an active question and I think we should ask it often. I was encouraged in reading about a group of young people responding to the effects of technology in their lives by forming a club in which they put their phones away and just spent time together once a week. It’s a small thing, not that practical, easy to dismiss and at the same time it rings true. <br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br />The best questions we can ask in life do not invite answers as much as they invite us to develop skills. As we enter this new year, do take good care…</span><br /><br /></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p><br /><br /><br /></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNlOdRGFPAZV_WVuYIzWm9Jdu4ng1-xKIqzp5GIKZ43kqX8JY5n0S77DoYV-wyXgMMIO0k_orceRdL49C0EYZubAnWd6TdekFncGa2oojwQhVov8matawHse3sic8eQ4Gf9gKDW1HvkKh6n0DNoVztQXBxyZvYyIEL-8iUbuqXpP5NX_ffml2x4nTp/s1077/HNY%20NYC.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="808" data-original-width="1077" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNlOdRGFPAZV_WVuYIzWm9Jdu4ng1-xKIqzp5GIKZ43kqX8JY5n0S77DoYV-wyXgMMIO0k_orceRdL49C0EYZubAnWd6TdekFncGa2oojwQhVov8matawHse3sic8eQ4Gf9gKDW1HvkKh6n0DNoVztQXBxyZvYyIEL-8iUbuqXpP5NX_ffml2x4nTp/w200-h150/HNY%20NYC.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br /><p><br /><br /><br /></p><p></p>Ellery Eskelinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17754806219906266323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507365900573255257.post-40371155569556006022022-10-09T23:28:00.005-04:002022-10-10T00:11:02.738-04:00It occurs to me…<p><span style="font-size: medium;">Now that things have opened up to a great extent compared with conditions two and a half years ago I’m getting out more and running into folks I haven’t seen in awhile. A common question I'm asked is <b>“so, have you been traveling?”</b> “No”, which I usually say matter-of-factly, giving pause afterwards for effect. And I’m not even sure what it is I’m wanting to convey by that.</span><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzukvJSz7HZ_r_IVLVYXVMy1_nJIxpm3Daw7PqrLaELhzO4W7IbEhAe45TAg0Qx20nH8gfMaXAig-vWNwkgAryk5PagvwqhHyUXAmDkogYr1fZsPji0SVHET_GBzlWVZmSMVCXlRavhUhOJuhAtBTmVNONjotciGwa0j0sgituE6HIQ1GRpHqwnQLQ/s543/RyoSasaki.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="290" data-original-width="543" height="171" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzukvJSz7HZ_r_IVLVYXVMy1_nJIxpm3Daw7PqrLaELhzO4W7IbEhAe45TAg0Qx20nH8gfMaXAig-vWNwkgAryk5PagvwqhHyUXAmDkogYr1fZsPji0SVHET_GBzlWVZmSMVCXlRavhUhOJuhAtBTmVNONjotciGwa0j0sgituE6HIQ1GRpHqwnQLQ/s320/RyoSasaki.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>It happened just this afternoon in fact. My wife and I were biking in Central Park and came across a jazz group led by trumpeter Ryo Sasaki in which a friend of mine, saxophonist Chris Bacas, often plays. We chatted for a few moments before they started, Chris asked me the question and I gave him the answer, recognizing that it’s now become a thing. But he gave me a good look in the eye by which I could tell he understood. There’s just a thing among musicians, a knowing acceptance of circumstances and of each other that I’ve always appreciated. The music invites it in fact, as clearly demonstrated during their performance for passers by of all ages and walks of life. Folks often stop for awhile and take in a few tunes. The weather being perfectly crisp, sun shining without a cloud in sight, we found ourselves absorbed in the scene and the music for a good hour, taking it all in as a much needed form of nourishment. The band does standard jazz repertoire, everyone played beautifully and it was great to see the effect this music had on people, a genuinely good and positive feeling, plain and simple. It might have been easy to overlook them as one of the many things happening in the park but their understated and relaxed energy subtly reaches out and touches folks who become transformed before they even realize it. Acoustic music often has this effect, it draws people in rather than hitting them over the head.<br /><br /><b>I might mention at this point that Chris Bacas is also a gifted writer </b>and has posted a good many essays concerning his experiences in the music business going back some decades. Please visit his sites at <a href="https://3quarksdaily.com/3quarksdaily/author/christopherbacas" target="_blank">3quarksdaily</a> and at <a href="https://tevotbegotnaught.tumblr.com/" target="_blank">Tumblr.</a> The first piece by Chris that I read was about a mutual friend from our hometown of Baltimore, a fellow saxophonist named Mike Carrick. Mike was older than us and something of a mentor given his old-school, working-class persona combined with an intense focus on modern jazz. There was one night at The Bandstand I recall with particular vibrancy. It was a jam session with the house rhythm section and Mike, who had just come back from visiting NYC, was energized well above his usual level. Apparently he had taken a cassette recorder with him and recorded some gigs he heard, which he was now playing for us off the side of the stage. I could be wrong but I somehow remember him saying it was Doug Carn’s group with his wife Jean Carn and a saxophonist who’s name I didn’t recognize or can’t recall. Whatever it was, the music was full-burn and Mike was getting increasingly amped up as we took to the stand, telling us “in New York, if you don’t 'take it out' within the first minute they look at you funny”. This means to depart from traditional melodic language and expound upon the tune by going away from the tonal centers that underlie the song. When it came time to play a solo I closed my eyes and began to blow only to hear Mike’s voice bellowing loudly from behind me, “take it out man!” Not knowing exactly how to do that I simply let my fingers go off the rails and tried stringing together some larger, more oblique intervals. Mike shouted his approval which made the whole thing seem magical somehow. Afterwards he said. “yea, you got that Baltimore honkin’ thing”, which still pleases me to think about. Many years later, I ran into Mike outside the Cafe Park Plaza where I had been playing with pianist Marc Copland. Marc, having known Mike for years, complimented him on his vitality and physical demeanor which Mike attributed to having absorbed from the “young cats”. “Ya gotta steal their youth man.” In the process, he gave us ours. Mike passed in 2011. Chris’ renderings of Mike are in a class of their own, to which I recommend starting with these three: <a href="https://3quarksdaily.com/3quarksdaily/2016/10/25.html" target="_blank">Tough Tenor: Balmer Beginnings</a>, <a href="https://3quarksdaily.com/3quarksdaily/2016/11/tough-tenor-chekovs-first-act.html" target="_blank">Tough Tenor: Chekov’s First Act</a> & <a href="https://3quarksdaily.com/3quarksdaily/2016/12/tough-tenor.html">Tough Tenor: On the Waterfront</a>.<br /><br />I’ve digressed from the premise of this post but as long as I’m already off course, I want to mention another Baltimore saxophonist currently on the scene, <a href="https://baltimoresaxophone.com/">Derrick Michaels</a>, who has a new recording out with a collective group called <b>Trio Xolo</b> with bassist Zachary Swanson and drummer Dalius Naujo, exemplifying a true group aesthetic. It occurred to me that Derrick’s playing demonstrates an important musical truth, that <b>one can only develop their individual voice within a group music.</b> That may seem to be an obvious statement but I have gotten the sense that oftentimes younger musicians go through a phase of trying to develop “their thing” outside of the music only to confront the necessity of trying to reconcile that on the gig. This is a generalization of course, and not meant to be a criticism as much as an observation. It is not a particularly easy thing to develop the necessary skills to address this music only to then be confronted with the often more challenging skill of how to forget it all in order to actually play the music. In my estimation, the way to do that is to follow a musical process for it’s own sake. What you are actually forgetting is yourself, so as to find yourself in a place you might not have anticipated. This requires a great deal of sensitivity to the moving musical moment, but the more you focus the easier it is to forget. You can listen to Trio Xolo on their <a href="https://577records.bandcamp.com/album/in-flower-in-song" target="_blank">Band Camp site</a>.<br /><br /><b>Speaking of forgetting, I’ve completely lost the thread of this post </b>but now I want to mention some other noteworthy musical experiences of late. In my continuing pursuit of live performances of acoustic music I’ve discovered a number of chamber music series here in NYC that have been greatly inspiring. Back at the beginning of the pandemic I <a href="http://elleryeskelin.blogspot.com/2020/05/an-admittedly-peculiar-post-from-out-of.html" target="_blank">wrote a post</a> about the bewildering nature of suddenly finding one’s self (along with the rest of the musical world) without a gig to play. In it, I mentioned an e-mail announcement from the American Classical Orchestra that expressed the situation in a poignant and moving way. At the time I vowed to take in a performance by the orchestra as soon as that became possible. This finally happened last month on the opening concert of their fall season at Alice Tully Hall and was well worth the wait. The <a href="https://aconyc.org/" target="_blank">American Classical Orchestra</a> performs on period instruments focusing on the music of 17th, 18th and 19th century composers. On this evening they featured <b>pianoforte soloist Petra Somlai</b>, who brilliantly played Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 3 in C Minor. I invite you to <a href="https://vimeo.com/588941916" target="_blank">watch this video</a> of her playing Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. It’s shockingly impressive. <br /><br />Another notable concert took place at the CUNY Graduate Center in midtown Manhattan, a performance of Messiaen’s “Quartet for the End of Time” by a group of alumni, this representing another instance of hearing a piece I thought I was familiar with only to feel like I was hearing it for the first time. The following week the Juilliard School presented a concert by the <a href="https://www.momentaquartet.com/" target="_blank">Momenta String Quartet</a>, whose musicality and musicianship were superb. Some days later Juilliard students presented an afternoon of early Italian music at Trinity Lutheran Church. The level of these students was simply astonishing. All of this and the arts season is just getting revved up in New York City. <br /><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">And so now it occurs to me, what I meant to say in the first paragraph. </span> In this context of all of this increased musical activity, what it is that I’m meaning to convey when someone asks “so, have you been traveling?” <br /><br />“No.” Meaning, it’s OK. <br /><br />What started out as a collective, non-voluntary pause gradually turned into an indeterminate, adjective-resistant period of extended time, then into what I am now recognizing as a conscious if not intentional sabbatical from concertizing on my part. And it’s OK.<br /><br /><b>Most simply put, I consider this current period of daily musical practice apart from the concert scene a beneficial, necessary and positive part of the creative process. </b> I have no designs on how long this period lasts. I’m prepared for something to happen at any time and yet I am equally prepared to continue this practice, addressing aspects of the saxophone that somehow got set aside or missed in the long trajectory of travel and performance these last forty plus years. Plus, listening to all of this amazing music going on around town is having it’s own effects. <br /><br />It’s an endless and rewarding pursuit in whatever form it takes but there is nothing like being on the stage and bringing it to life with all of you. I’m certain that will happen before much longer, and of course I’ll post any upcoming dates as they may occur.<br /><br /><br /><br /></p><p></p>Ellery Eskelinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17754806219906266323noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507365900573255257.post-35926399144389560982022-08-05T17:33:00.004-04:002022-08-06T20:48:23.104-04:00 The 55 (and others...)<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5dADLsBxWzrFGTQNySZydi6C0EQYxJYhMzedIbj8kIObjnq46jrmN95DscP6-L6sS3HTCm9V2u7Yui-tyYlWtfbfQMfbgo6Pmpb-DYrIaMQPvtm1_UCpjlUn0qAYViH465yoUabKnX3amLWDmg8RPUBULZcmk2xJuNvzBBFyN6uSL-Onlbbjcy20X/s2048/55Bar%20copy.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5dADLsBxWzrFGTQNySZydi6C0EQYxJYhMzedIbj8kIObjnq46jrmN95DscP6-L6sS3HTCm9V2u7Yui-tyYlWtfbfQMfbgo6Pmpb-DYrIaMQPvtm1_UCpjlUn0qAYViH465yoUabKnX3amLWDmg8RPUBULZcmk2xJuNvzBBFyN6uSL-Onlbbjcy20X/s320/55Bar%20copy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;">We’ve lost a number of important venues in the city recently. </span>Cornelia Street Cafe, The Jazz Standard and just a few months ago the <b>55 Bar</b>. This might be seen as part of an ongoing process, I could easily list a dozen or more clubs that have closed their doors since I came to New York in 1983 but there were new ones to take their place. However, conditions these past couple of years have been exceptionally hard on businesses and while we’ve had to accept these realities I’m finding the loss of the 55 to be hitting emotionally close to home given my proximity to events in the early years of it’s music policy.<br /><br />It wasn’t long after I arrived in NYC that bassist Jeff Andrews (friend and roommate) got a call to do a duo gig with a guitarist at a bar on Christopher Street. Jeff didn’t know the guitarist and neither of us knew anything about the club, apparently a dark, dank dive bar that had been around since 1919 and looked as if it hadn’t received much attention in the way of interior decor since that time. It was inhabited by a half dozen or so ex-writers and painters who spent most of their time hugging the bar seemingly disinterested in any kind of social interaction. But Jeff felt there was potential, ironically, since no one there seemed to care much one way or the other. The club owner, a rather laid back fellow who was a bit hard to read, invited him back and Jeff responded by asking for six months to book the place so as to turn it into a music scene. Being new to town perhaps it was a cocky move but the owner just said, “sure, go ahead”. There wasn’t much money involved but Jeff started inviting musicians to play with him and at a certain point made a connection with guitarist Mike Stern and invited him to play. The timing was somehow right and Mike accepted, just wanting to have a place to work out musically at the time without a lot of attention being drawn. I was hanging around during all of this and would sit in often, watching in surprise over time as more and more musicians began dropping in, some of them quite well known. <br /><br />The bar’s regulars continued to maintain their vigil through all of this which created an odd but benign dynamic. I recall one of the first gigs I got hired to lead, in the middle of which someone from the street burst through the front door and yelled “there’s a fire, everyone get out!” We quickly made our way to the street and saw a fire company putting out a blaze just a few doors down. It could have easily spread but the crew got a handle on it and within twenty minutes or so we filed back in only to find the stalwarts still in their fixed positions at the bar, having not even bothered to look over their shoulders to see what the fuss was all about. The place was certainly conducive to a particular kind of hermetic experience. I recall once speaking with saxophonist Dewey Redman at some length on the topic of sound and mouthpieces only to become very confused upon leaving to find that the sun was already up and early-bird New Yorkers were actively starting their day. There were a number of other lasting impressions from those days, some of which I’ve written about; <a href="https://elleryeskelin.blogspot.com/2014/01/first-blog-posts-of-2014.html" target="_blank">George Coleman’s glare</a>, the <a href="https://elleryeskelin.blogspot.com/2011/11/paul-motian.html" target="_blank">epiphany of playing with Paul Motian</a>, Cecil Taylor hanging out at the bar for an entire gig.<br /><br />At a certain point I began hanging out less at the 55 as I found myself in other musical currents. But I began playing there again after ownership changed and the bar began taking on a more positive feel. I still didn’t play there quite as often as at other venues but I always felt at home, marveling at the fact that it remained essentially unchanged while a very robust musical scene was now thriving. It seemed a strong contender for continued longevity but unfortunately that's no longer the case. <a href="https://elleryeskelin.blogspot.com/2020/03/nyc-march-2020.html" target="_blank">Jeff Andrews</a><a href="https://elleryeskelin.blogspot.com/2020/03/nyc-march-2020.html" target="_blank"> passed a few years ago</a> which makes the whole thing much more personal. <br /><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">Talking about the 55 puts me in the mind to share a few thoughts on some early Baltimore clubs, some promotional posters from which turned up in the archives recently. Here are a few that I played, between 1979 and 1981...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>The Cafe Park Plaza</b> was centrally located downtown near the Washington Monument a bit north of the Peabody Conservatory and a bit south of the Famous Ballroom, home of the <a href="https://elleryeskelin.blogspot.com/2019/03/house-cleaning.html" target="_blank">Left Bank Jazz Society</a>. </span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhso8W1pqWo5wWx2-3PgaG6QLLHM5Kgig7n6D18qyPCxwIJtxr-JmI00uaW9tsI336WUG-Wwwf-J1K9d6yGlj3bI55TiqIAqk6QDxYZbjAMSZTpTrKoucPzGV6ex0TWOPhjzn65ekVe6I248Pvb8HsZnumL2q6p72KOWzCIBA0wzk2JoJTAjOyeBTIB/s987/Cafe%20Park%20Plaza%202.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="987" data-original-width="765" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhso8W1pqWo5wWx2-3PgaG6QLLHM5Kgig7n6D18qyPCxwIJtxr-JmI00uaW9tsI336WUG-Wwwf-J1K9d6yGlj3bI55TiqIAqk6QDxYZbjAMSZTpTrKoucPzGV6ex0TWOPhjzn65ekVe6I248Pvb8HsZnumL2q6p72KOWzCIBA0wzk2JoJTAjOyeBTIB/w155-h200/Cafe%20Park%20Plaza%202.jpg" width="155" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6lnJGmqUdVlh8HC8hAsqOcgfcATm0vhg-eSVVXiHRiA507Kc4Vfga4hvrdDS3IUrs_4MJRHGhQqU0YjodCIqimY_rng0bGIFpLMi4nDn9h_geb6GEOlsW2Tp4STIJCbXpcMB39NU3TG7D63Ecq89vmKri21X8Aoi5CZqdGnIM6gRqDpul4Qd0RGO3/s992/Cafe%20Park%20Plaza%201.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="992" data-original-width="765" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6lnJGmqUdVlh8HC8hAsqOcgfcATm0vhg-eSVVXiHRiA507Kc4Vfga4hvrdDS3IUrs_4MJRHGhQqU0YjodCIqimY_rng0bGIFpLMi4nDn9h_geb6GEOlsW2Tp4STIJCbXpcMB39NU3TG7D63Ecq89vmKri21X8Aoi5CZqdGnIM6gRqDpul4Qd0RGO3/w154-h200/Cafe%20Park%20Plaza%201.jpg" width="154" /></a></div><p><b><br /></b><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>The 20 Grand,</b> a neighborhood club in northeast Baltimore, I believe it went under a number of names over the years.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpYmTjAyUu99Au1bBDmxXwvStvQ6eCucZuCQ9LAoN3R693IRc2L0yrMSsO8aoyZpQZbWQLXicUijhjuIy6_EQiBeaB7SenKyETIBgirz9FdgH06wVZu-Utok48gScaOFQTdsrj5wDYrUWfy9bIhvy-2lDW35HM3tIznpqvFHwHTX_3xkMyOl8uf5bp/s1052/20%20Grand%20copy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1052" data-original-width="765" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpYmTjAyUu99Au1bBDmxXwvStvQ6eCucZuCQ9LAoN3R693IRc2L0yrMSsO8aoyZpQZbWQLXicUijhjuIy6_EQiBeaB7SenKyETIBgirz9FdgH06wVZu-Utok48gScaOFQTdsrj5wDYrUWfy9bIhvy-2lDW35HM3tIznpqvFHwHTX_3xkMyOl8uf5bp/w146-h200/20%20Grand%20copy.jpg" width="146" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>The Bandstand</b> was situated in Fells Point, very near the water back at a time when that neighborhood felt a little deserted after dark. The Bandstand often hosted national artists in multi-night runs. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzhhHsKdEeEKbLpUDSRvAqNADkmyoGt8POFgkYwdZ1qa_ZTBnDz3IZ01CbIBj8XumbgY-LC7j7MctqCJnxTS-zq2wbvdj8FV3xN_u1l23ya-wUYyDW7kbWsQPMDzX5c-827fW-0bgt6Jv6PpD5vV2x8MhjshHTZTdluB65BiZbTaIsPDt2zkN9es5n/s1013/The%20Bandstand%20copy%202.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1013" data-original-width="663" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzhhHsKdEeEKbLpUDSRvAqNADkmyoGt8POFgkYwdZ1qa_ZTBnDz3IZ01CbIBj8XumbgY-LC7j7MctqCJnxTS-zq2wbvdj8FV3xN_u1l23ya-wUYyDW7kbWsQPMDzX5c-827fW-0bgt6Jv6PpD5vV2x8MhjshHTZTdluB65BiZbTaIsPDt2zkN9es5n/w131-h200/The%20Bandstand%20copy%202.jpg" width="131" /></a><br /></div><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Reading through the names is like a snapshot of a particular point in time that can take one in any number of directions…</span></b><br /><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJJlOzeKIXUzpsV4Id7sZ5GCYLru-njImUDBsehUCyg7WX-Ey6JOxM4sect3psfg8GfG_cwOgAlvB5meNkSDu3Brf6Oqpsg6Mx-jmkUcxEJlZZYewwOpIa3_6_Nx1Hg5wBuAu2DxFkgW7669EcoqhhkYxVXXrwmHtuz-3wXso9w79jDGYZ94xF9qA1/s600/Harold%20White.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="549" data-original-width="600" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJJlOzeKIXUzpsV4Id7sZ5GCYLru-njImUDBsehUCyg7WX-Ey6JOxM4sect3psfg8GfG_cwOgAlvB5meNkSDu3Brf6Oqpsg6Mx-jmkUcxEJlZZYewwOpIa3_6_Nx1Hg5wBuAu2DxFkgW7669EcoqhhkYxVXXrwmHtuz-3wXso9w79jDGYZ94xF9qA1/w200-h183/Harold%20White.jpeg" width="200" /></a></div>Drummer <b>Harold White</b> was originally from Baltimore and had moved to New York, playing for a time in Horace Silver’s band. I met Harold at the Sportsman’s Lounge in 1980 when he came back to Baltimore temporarily to take care of his mother. During that time Harold invited me to play in a quintet he’d organized doing Horace Silver arrangements for a regular gig at the 20 Grand Club. It was Harold who put me in touch with saxophonist George Coleman for lessons (ostensibly because in Harold's words I played "too many pentatonics"). Years later, riding the subway on my first day in NYC in 1983, I was surprised to see Harold sitting across from me. I tried a few times to get his attention, after which he informed me that one should not be in the habit of making eye contact on the subway. I guess that was lesson one. Second was that he needed a tenor player to fill in at a rehearsal at the Star Cafe that very afternoon and asked if I could do it. Turns out it was a group led by saxophonist <a href="https://bobbywatson.com/" target="_blank">Bobby Watson</a>. I took this to be an auspicious sign for one’s first day in the city. <br /><br />Harold passed a few years ago. You can listen to him on a recently released live date with George Coleman from the Famous Ballroom recorded in 1971, "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=OLAK5uy_m12FFTMhLyyRrVSATT6TZ9KLBdQXPid68" target="_blank">The George Coleman Quintet in Baltimore</a>".<br /><p></p><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oFM-0ogmXYo" target="_blank">Pianist Bob Butta</a>
was one of the first jazz musicians I met in Baltimore, probably around
1978 and I learned a lot from him over the years. He had a band called
“Inside Out” which featured <a href="https://jazztimes.com/features/tributes-and-obituaries/jeff-andrews-1960-2019/" target="_blank">Jeff Andrews</a> on bass, <a href="http://www.kirkdriscoll.com/" target="_blank">Kirk Driscoll</a> on drums and <a href="https://www.tommccormickmusic.com/" target="_blank">Tom McCormick</a>
on saxophone. There was a stretch of time in the mid eighties during
which Bob would come up to NYC to work the Star Cafe, staying at my
place and jamming with Jeff and I all day before hitting the club. The
Star Cafe was another of the city’s longtime neighborhood dive bars with
a jazz music policy. Harold White led the quintet and
saxophonist <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Junior_Cook" target="_blank">Junior Cook</a>
would often be on hand to run the jam sessions. Bob once told me that
Junior joked that I had a “(w)hole lot of soul” given the fact that one of
my shoes was coming apart and he could see my toes sticking out,
tapping in time to the music as I was playing. I once recall that there was a line of seven tenor players in a row waiting to blow on whatever tune was going. I felt sorry for bassist <a href="https://www.smallslive.com/artists/936-ed-howard/" target="_blank">Ed Howard,</a> but he never complained. Other fond memories are of hearing the great drummer <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Billy_Higgins" target="_blank">Billy Higgins</a> and pianist <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Albert_Dailey" target="_blank">Albert Daily</a> (also from Baltimore) sitting in together, creating unbelievably swinging music.<br /><br /><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mickey_Fields" target="_blank">Mickey Fields</a>, Baltimore’s own legend of the tenor saxophone. I’m sure Mickey played every joint in town at one time or another.<br /><br /><a href="https://www.tomwilliamsnet.com/" target="_blank">Tom Williams</a> and <a href="http://markrussellproductions.com/main/" target="_blank">Mark Russell</a> were fellow students at Towson University. Both continue to be mainstays on the scene.<br /><br /><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ruby_Glover" target="_blank">Ruby Glover</a>, one of Baltimore’s renowned singers.<br /><br />Pianist Lee Hawthorne I've not been able to find any current information on. Perhaps I'll hear from someone.<a href=" https://www.charlescovingtonjazz.com/" target="_blank"><br /><br />Charles Covington</a>, legendary Baltimore pianist whose talents extend well beyond music.<a href="http://www.karukas.com/new-blog/2015/7/21/tim-eyermann-rip" target="_blank"><br /><br />Tim Eyermann</a>. Tim had a very popular fusion band called “East Coast Offering” in which he played saxophone and all manner of woodwinds. I took some flute lessons with Tim at one point.<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3aBMERSclVU" target="_blank"><br /><br />William Goffigan</a>. I don’t know that I ever played with William but I was aware of him as someone who had a history in the music. The link is to a clip of William playing with Horace Silver from 1974.<a href="https://www.davidkanemusic.com/davidkanemusic.com/Home.html" target="_blank"><br /><br />Dave Kane</a>, great Washington DC pianist.<br /><br />Ronnie Dawson. Ronnie played drums on many gigs around town, I would see him everywhere. I have a cassette of the both of us sitting in with saxophonist Pepper Adams at The Bandstand. Haven't heard about him in years, wish I knew more.<a href="https://www.allaboutjazz.com/matthew-shipp-traversing-the-regions-of-the-mind-matthew-shipp-by-lyn-horton" target="_blank"><br /><br />Sun Yata</a>. I’m not quite sure who Sun Yata is except for the fact that pianist Matthew Shipp has mentioned him as being an early mentor in the Delaware area. The link is to an interview with Matt in which he discusses this.<a href="https://www.carlgrubbsjazz.org/" target="_blank"><br /><br />Carl Grubbs</a>. Legendary saxophonist whose music I first heard on the radio in the mid seventies. Happy to see that he continues to be a force on the music scene.<a href="https://www.instagram.com/bsweetney/" target="_blank"><br /><br />Bernard Sweetney</a>, I didn't know Bernard but he is one of many Baltimore musicians with a long history in the music.<br /><br />Guitarist <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/O%27Donel_Levy" target="_blank">O'Donel Levy</a> was a Baltimore favorite for many years. <br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>One more important mention...</b></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2us572efSKMxptALJsT9Cza9-Gk7bv6jwwpM4qXCje_XiKEG-_vNGEQxbb5UCandnyxrZrCGDt_XfByum-5NKggyb6kjdmEKKCqM9aJv4qr4jTzzGAjZsq8F3XbboXJTgXWec_1p9xI0nRv8mjIrTyHfKUG4SsrXJEi95foQNjxYSkSdUPig5IVcx/s800/Billy_Kaye1.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="571" data-original-width="800" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2us572efSKMxptALJsT9Cza9-Gk7bv6jwwpM4qXCje_XiKEG-_vNGEQxbb5UCandnyxrZrCGDt_XfByum-5NKggyb6kjdmEKKCqM9aJv4qr4jTzzGAjZsq8F3XbboXJTgXWec_1p9xI0nRv8mjIrTyHfKUG4SsrXJEi95foQNjxYSkSdUPig5IVcx/s320/Billy_Kaye1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><b>Drummer Billy Kaye passed away just recently. </b> He was 89 and had played with just about anyone you might think of. Lou Donaldson, George Benson, Stanley Turrentine, Thelonious Monk, Milt Jackson, Charlie Rouse, Eddie Jefferson, Ruth Brown, Gloria Lynne, Herbie Hancock, Jimmy Smith and Sun Ra constitute a partial list. Billy was a neighbor and we’d chat from time to time. Before the pandemic he was still working multiple nights a week, carting his drums around the neighborhood, dressed to a tee. He will be missed. <p></p><p>Here is <a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/graphics/2018/lifestyle/magazine/jazz-drummer-billy-kaye-keeps-swinging/" target="_blank">a nice photo series of Billy</a> from the Washington Post a few years back. <br /></p><p> </p><p> </p><p><br /></p><p> </p><p> <br /><br /></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p><br /><br /><br /></p>Ellery Eskelinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17754806219906266323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507365900573255257.post-34060513469015810432022-05-28T17:29:00.005-04:002022-05-31T21:14:27.111-04:00The aesthetics of losing control<p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>I once had an aesthetics professor in college, an older man with a long white beard, I wish I could recall his name. </b> </span>He seemed a bit eccentric and I found him intriguing. I recall little about the course except for two things. Once during a class discussion, seemingly unrelated to whatever topic we were on, he started talking about drug use saying that whatever length of time one were to have been involved with drugs would require an equal amount of time going back through whatever it was you went through just in order to undo the damage and regain your sensibilities. No one said anything after that and to this day I really don’t know what to make of it. I appreciate the cautionary stance but that’s not the subject of this post. <br /><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4X9-7lKdQzU7frWUBzUZUiUdXQiIjQSZRrXFBDrfvDTs7WGk8k2wJVu2knti-P1PTQIUYAcoq_n76ceLZsk7PdNh8OjbuQPflvj6Os7LcUE3KqLjCrWaJkys0Wb4EgnEQxIhNRREz3RiOIxA1XN9tGmNoE_GOksY6K548SehcggSCWCTgbWORU7Ra/s3840/First_Unitarian_Church_Baltimore_MD%20Acroterion.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2562" data-original-width="3840" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4X9-7lKdQzU7frWUBzUZUiUdXQiIjQSZRrXFBDrfvDTs7WGk8k2wJVu2knti-P1PTQIUYAcoq_n76ceLZsk7PdNh8OjbuQPflvj6Os7LcUE3KqLjCrWaJkys0Wb4EgnEQxIhNRREz3RiOIxA1XN9tGmNoE_GOksY6K548SehcggSCWCTgbWORU7Ra/s320/First_Unitarian_Church_Baltimore_MD%20Acroterion.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>The second thing I remember was the assignments. Once a week we were instructed to go out into the city to look at different buildings of his choosing and write down what we saw. That was it, he was very clear that all he wanted was a description in clear, basic terms, nothing at all subjective. This always felt unsatisfying as well as being remarkably difficult. I recall the Unitarian Church as being one of these assignments. Dedicated in 1818 it is a large white building in the shape of a cube with a dome on top, conspicuously standing out from it’s surroundings on a busy street corner in downtown Baltimore. It has a very strong vibe that feels impossible not to comment on. But what was most strange about all this was that I don’t recall there ever being any discussion of these papers in class nor any explanation as to why he assigned them. We handed them in and that was it, I don’t even think they were graded. If he had a point to make he sure didn’t share it. The entire course was kind of an enigma in that way. <br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;">I’m reminded of this given the desire to express my experience of having attended nine different chamber music concerts in the last six weeks. </span><span style="font-size: medium;"> This after having heard no live music at all in the previous two years. </span>At home I’ve listened to very little music preferring instead to investigate silence, to the extent that is achievable in NYC. As you might imagine, returning to the concert hall as a listener after all of this time was a bit of a shock. It is certainly a very familiar experience and yet there were times in which <b>I had the the sensation that it was all completely out of control. </b> Not that the music was unfocused, quite the opposite. But it’s live, people are in the room together, anything could happen. This was always true but the feeling has been even more visceral of late. The musicians are giving themselves up entirely for you, the listener, and for the music itself, the boundaries of which are indefinable at that moment, hence the realization that this is truly not a matter of controlling anything. What takes place is not a matter of description.<br /><br />Just thinking out loud…might it be that we often assume or even assert some subtle sense of control in the act of listening? Or in seeing? As in, "my" experience? Maybe that’s what the aesthetics assignment was about, relinquishing that control and the filter it creates on our perception of events. On a tangent, years ago I had a conversation with a highly opinionated fellow musician who to his credit demonstrated excellent taste and aesthetic discernment in both music and cuisine. I recall we went to a Chinese restaurant with a mutual friend, he ordered for all three of us and I couldn’t help but notice that the waiter seemed sincerely impressed with how he put the order together. Anyway, we got into a discussion about a concert we had just heard, I found his criticism to be a bit much and pressed him on certain issues to a point at which he theatrically mocked the whole notion of “just letting the music wash over you”. Those weren’t the words I had used but that’s exactly where I was coming from, the critical response can come later, and when it does we should know the purpose for which we are using it and not confuse it with the experience of the music itself. But at that point I let the conversation go and enjoyed the rest of the meal.<br /><br />In considering an essay on those concerts, I toyed with the idea of attempting the type of reportáge that my aesthetics professor prescribed but I doubt I could pull that off. I want too much to express the exhilaration of hearing Carol McGonnell’s tour de force rendition of Brian Ferneyhough’s ”La Chute d’Icare” for solo clarinet and ensemble with the Argento New Music Project. Or being moved to tears at “Sechs Lieder” by Edvard Grieg performed on an operatic recital at Manhattan School of Music. I would want to convey the mind boggling precision of the Abeo String Quartet performing Beethoven’s String Quartet No. 8 at Juilliard. I would need to mention how when listening to the Manhattan School of Music Saxophone Orchestra (thirteen saxophones ranging from sopranino to contrabass) I actually forgot I was listening to saxophones, they sounded every bit like an orchestra. There was the otherworldly sound of music I thought I knew in Mozart’s “The Magic Flute” and there was the universal power of Bach channeled by a full choir and baroque orchestra at Trinity Church. This may sound like a purely emotional response as compared with the requirements of those early assignments yet emotionalism does not capture the experience either. At that moment the music is your entire being. <br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br />So I really don’t know what to say about any of it.<span style="font-size: small;"> <b>It’s healing, I can say that, particularly given all recent events.</b> And I don’t quite know what to say about recent events either except to say that we do need to be healed. And I think we can only do that ourselves, for each other, accepting the presence of hope as well as despair, not needing to become dependent upon either. To feel that lack of control may lead to seeing with a clearer eye and feeling with a fullness of heart in order to just do what we need to do. There will of course not be enough time, therefore it will require the unconditional timelessness of this moment and all of the compassion that brings. </span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">We can feel this in music. Anything can happen.</span><span style="font-size: small;"><br /><br /></span><br /><br />programs:<br /><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Argento New Music Project</b></span><br />April 11, 2022<br />National Opera Center, NYC<span style="font-size: small;"><br /><br />Tania León (USA/Cuba) Parajota delaté (1988)<br />Ludmila Yurina (Ukraine) Shadows and Ghosts (1999) for solo piano<br />Brian Ferneyhough (UK) La Chute d’Icare (1988) for solo clarinet and ensemble<br />Alvin Lucier (USA) In Memoriam Jon Higgins (1987) for solo clarinet and Pure Wave Oscillator<br />Yotam Haber (USA/Israel) Bloodsnow – (World Premiere)<br /> </span><br /><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Operatic Recital</span></b><br />April 16, 2022<br />Mikowsky Recital Hall, Manhattan School of Music<br />Abigail Dutler, soprano<br />Nobuko Amemiya, piano<br /><br />Giuseppe Verdi (1813–1901)<br />In solitaria stanza<br />La seduzione<br /><br />Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756–1791)<br />“Dove sono” from Le nozze di Figaro<br /><br />Edvard Grieg (1843–1907)<br />Sechs Lieder, Op. 48<br />Gruss<br />Dereinst, Gedanke mein<br />Lauf der Welt<br />Die verschwiegene Nachtigall<br />Zur Rosenzeit<br />Ein Traum<br /><br />Johannes Brahms (1833–1897)<br />Dein blaues Auge, Op. 59, no. 8<br />Botschaft, Op. 47, no. 1<br /><br />Pauline Viardot (1821–1910) <br />6 Mélodies: IV. Hai Luli, III. J’en mourrai<br />Evocation<br /><br />Mary Howe (1882–1964)<br />Old English Lullaby<br />There has Fallen a Splendid Tear<br /><br />Benjamin Britten (1913–1976)<br />“How beautiful it is” from The Turn of the Screw<br /><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Argento New Music Project</b></span><br />April 20, 2022<br />Dimenna Center, NYC<br /><br />Semi-staged songs by Alma Mahler arranged for narrator, voice and piano interspersed with texts from letters written by Gustav Mahler:<br />Laue Sommernacht<br />Ansturm<br />Ich wandle unter Blumen<br />Ekstase<br />Ariadne Greif, voice & Piers Playfair, narrator<br /><br />Patricia Alessandrini - Canto d’Alma (2018/2020)<br />for soprano, chamber ensemble, and electronics (inspired by Alma Mahler’s fünf Lieder)<br />Ariadne Greif, soprano<br /><br />Gustav Mahler - Purgatorio and Scherzo: Nicht zu schnell from Symphony no. 10 (1964)<br />Completed by Michel Galante (2022) for 15 musicians<br /><br />Sang Song - Gretel (2021) for ensemble<br />I. To the Little House - New York premiere<br />II. Vein of Shame - World premiere<br />III. Kindertotenmusik - New York premiere<br />(inspired by Gustav Mahler's Kindertotenlieder)<br /><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>MSM Lab Chorus</b></span><br />April 23, 2022<br />Gordon K. and Harriet Greenfield Hall, Manhattan School of Music<br /><br />Franz Schubert (1797–1828)<br />Der Tanz<br /><br />Trad. Spiritual - Steal Away (arr. Patrick Dupré Quigley)<br />Alexandra Cirile, mezzo-soprano<br /><br />Trad. Spiritual - Daniel, Daniel, Servant of the Lord (arr. Undine S. Moore) <br />Brandon Pencheff-Martin, Fernando Watts, soloists<br /><br />Don MacDonald (b. 1966)<br />When the Earth Stands Still<br /><br />Jacob Leibowitz (b. 2000) <br />Hush (World Premiere)<br />Hush, Little Baby<br />Hush-a-bye, Baby<br /><br />William Byrd (1539/40–1623)<br />Lullaby, My Sweet Little Baby<br /><br />Felix Mendelssohn (1809–1847)<br />Verleih uns Frieden gnädiglich<br /><br />Trad. South African Song (arr. Michael Barrett)<br />Ndikhokhele Bawo<br />Jennifer Robinson, Sara Zerilli, Evan Katsefes, Henry Griffin, soloists<br />Kabelo Boy Mokhatla, djembe<br /><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>MSM Saxophone Orchestra</b></span><br />Paul Cohen - conductor<br />April 24th, 2022 Greenfield Hall, Manhattan School of Music<br /><br />Kurt Weill - Kleine Dreigroschenmusik (Suite from The Threepenny Opera) (arr. Michael Brinzer)<br />I. Ouveture <br />II. Die Moritat von Mackie Messer <br />III. Anstatt dab - Song <br />IV. Die Ballade von angenehmen Leben <br />V. Polly's Lied Va. Tango-Ballade <br />VI. Kanonen-Song <br />VII. Dreigrochen-Finale<br /><br />Eric Whitacre - October (2000) (arr. Michael Brinzer)<br /><br />Johann Sebastien Bach - Fantasia and Fugue in C Minor, BWV 537 (arr. Tyler Sakow)<br /><br />William Latham - Concerto Grosso (1962) (arr. Trey Shore)<br />Guy Dellacave - soprano saxophone Steve Ling - alto saxophone<br />I. Allegro Giusto <br />II. Andante <br />III. Gavotte <br />IV. Siciliano <br />V. Allegro non troppo<br /><br />William Schuman - Be Glad Then America (1975) (arr. Ben Harris)<br /><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>MSM Saxophones </b></span><br />May 2, 2022<br />Pforzheimer Hall, Manhattan School of Music<br /><br />Robert Aldridge - Quartet for Outdoor Festival (1989)<br />(for soprano saxophone, cello, violin and piano)<br /><br />Barbara York - Conversations (2008)<br />(for alto saxophone, tuba and piano)<br />I Allegretto <br />II Lento<br /><br />Esteban Eitler - Congoja (1943)<br />(for baritone saxophone)<br /><br />Johann Sebastian Bach (arr Tyler Sakow) - Flute Sonata in E minor BWV 1034<br />(for soprano saxophone, cello and harpsichord)<br />I Adagio ma non tanto <br />II.Allegro <br />IV. Allegro<br /><br />Johann Sebastian Bach (arr Tyler Sakow) - Fantasia and Fugue in C minor BWV 537 <br />(for soprano, alto, tenor, baritone and bass saxophones)<br /><br />Calvin Hampton - Fugue (1984)<br />(for saxophone quartet)<br /><br />Jean Absil - Suite sur des themes populaires Roumains (1956)<br />(for saxophone quartet)<br />I Allegro vivace <br />II Andante con moto <br />Ill Scherzo leggiero <br />IV Andante cantabile <br />V. Rude et tres rhythme<br /><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>MSM Opera Theater</b></span><br />May 7, 2022<br />The Riverside Theater, Riverside Church, NYC<br /><br />Die Zauberflöte<br />Music by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart<br />Libretto by Emanuel Schikaneder<br />A. Scott Parry, Director<br /><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>String Quartet Seminar Recital</b></span><br />May 20th, 2022<br />Pall Hall, The Juilliard School<br /><br />Cincinnatus String Quartet<br />Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart - String Quartet No. 15 in D minor, K. 421/417b<br /><br />Abeo String Quartet<br />Ludwig Van Beethoven - String Quartet No. 8 in E minor, Op. 59 No. 2<br />Felix Mendelssohn - String Quartet No. 2 in A Major, Op. 13<br /><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Ascendit</b></span><br />The Choir of Trinity Church Wall Street & Trinity Baroque Orchestra<br />May 25, 2022<br />Trinity Church, NYC<br /><br />Johann Sebastian Bach (1685 - 1750)<br />Singet den Herrn ein nues Lied, BMV 225<br />Lobet Gott in seinen Reichen, BWV 11 “Ascension Oratorio” <br />Brandenburg Concerto No. 3 in G major, BMV 1048<br />Magnificat, BMV 243<br />Jesu, meine Freude, BWV 227 (Ninth movement, Gute Nacht, o Wesen)<br /><br />(I’m providing a link to the <a href="https://trinitywallstreet.org/videos/ascendit" target="_blank">archived live-stream</a> of this concert. Of course it is no longer “live” nonetheless it may be a useful reference to the music and the work of these musicians.)<br /><br /><br /></p>Ellery Eskelinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17754806219906266323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507365900573255257.post-2172381368658518072022-04-08T16:35:00.001-04:002022-04-10T20:30:36.641-04:00Music from last century…<p><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKwwlxn7XkaApEyoiD3Ym1u1Osp72stF-B1FYhsBusTKF1LBTHxPr_lKE-ccig53VwaBuosS6Cgiq9epkvz2XegMi7vd7S36C8fotMrRJg5nih_LdbrDKKO_s77ZtCnAb2cjkuXCeY-fryUv5hYLqEfmSGhenlGgNtXD95rrXe7k_MhPPgYUmNizNZ/s2900/DAT%20tapes.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="2900" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKwwlxn7XkaApEyoiD3Ym1u1Osp72stF-B1FYhsBusTKF1LBTHxPr_lKE-ccig53VwaBuosS6Cgiq9epkvz2XegMi7vd7S36C8fotMrRJg5nih_LdbrDKKO_s77ZtCnAb2cjkuXCeY-fryUv5hYLqEfmSGhenlGgNtXD95rrXe7k_MhPPgYUmNizNZ/s320/DAT%20tapes.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;">Work on the archive slowed these past months</span> as I searched for someone who owned a working DAT machine. Interesting how a new audio format hits the scene with great excitement only to be rendered obsolete within a relatively short amount of time. Fortunately my friend Mikel Rouse (composer and subject of the <a href="http://elleryeskelin.blogspot.com/2022/03/mrbc-1987.html" target="_blank">previous post</a>) came to the rescue and transferred a slew of tapes, a select number of which I’ve added to the Band Camp archive. These recordings are of an earlier vintage than the rest, starting in 1992 with my first solo concert, recorded live at the old Knitting Factory. That’s thirty years ago to the month I dare say, not sure how I feel about that. The years 1994 and 1995 are also represented with the very first performances of “EE w/Andrea Parkins & Jim Black”, also from the Knitting Factory. These early recordings by the band reveal a somewhat different sound and conception than our later work. Additionally there is a live recording of the ensemble that recorded the release “Ramifications” in which cellist Erik Friedlander and tubist Joseph Daley were added to the mix. Beyond these DAT finds I have added a couple more recordings made from the same portable recorder that was used on much of the previous batch and to which I’ve applied some sonic improvement. One is a duo with drummer Gerry Hemingway from The Stone and the other is a trio with pedal steel guitarist Susan Alcorn and bassist Michael Formanek from the Cornelia Street Cafe. Here are the links:<br /><br />From the Archives: <a href="https://elleryeskelin.bandcamp.com/album/from-the-archives-ellery-eskelin-solo-live-in-nyc-1992" target="_blank">Ellery Eskelin - Solo Live</a> in NYC, 1992<br />From the Archives: <a href="https://elleryeskelin.bandcamp.com/album/from-the-archives-ellery-eskelin-w-andrea-parkins-jim-black-live-in-nyc-1994-1995-early-years-compilation" target="_blank">Ellery Eskelin w/Andrea Parkins & Jim Black</a> - Live in NYC, 1994 & 1995 (early years compilation)<br />From the Archives: <a href="https://elleryeskelin.bandcamp.com/album/from-the-archives-ellery-eskelin-andrea-parkins-erik-friedlander-joe-daley-jim-black-live-at-the-new-school-in-nyc-2000" target="_blank">Ellery Eskelin, Andrea Parkins, Erik Friedlander, Joseph Daley, Jim Black</a> - Live at The New School in NYC, 2000<br />From the Archives: <a href="https://elleryeskelin.bandcamp.com/album/from-the-archives-ellery-eskelin-and-gerry-hemingway-live-at-the-stone-in-nyc-2010" target="_blank">Ellery Eskelin and Gerry Hemingway</a> - Live at The Stone in NYC, 2010<br />From the Archives: <a href="https://elleryeskelin.bandcamp.com/album/from-the-archives-ellery-eskelin-susan-alcorn-michael-formanek-live-at-cornelia-street-cafe-in-nyc-2013" target="_blank">Ellery Eskelin, Susan Alcorn, Michael Formanek</a> - Live at Cornelia Street Cafe in NYC, 2013<br /><br />Whether or not the Band Camp archive will ever feature any recordings from the’70s or ‘80s remains to be seen. At the very least, going through this material has afforded the opportunity to try and piece together a timeline of events, many of which remain elusive and are perhaps lost to the years. Yet it has been possible with the help of a few friends to determine and plot out a few things and it does feel compelling to want to share them. I’ve noticed that some of my friends are now beginning to work on their memoirs, I guess we are getting to that age. I’ve always felt it was important to retain and pass along our stories and yet I have no idea what form that might take should I ever feel moved to do that. It’s already become clear that not all of the stories I’ve been telling myself over the years ring completely true. The reality of events do not always coincide with our experience of them, yet our subjective experience is important as well. <p></p><p> Just thinking out loud at this point. In all of this looking back there is also a strong energy to look more clearly at the present moment and consider what it is in and of itself, without telling a story about it. Playing music has always been a great way in which to do that. <br /><b><br />By all means, let’s all play some more music…</b><br /><br /><br /></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Ellery Eskelinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17754806219906266323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507365900573255257.post-71897006794588475022022-03-14T19:02:00.007-04:002022-03-15T17:44:17.773-04:00MRBC 1987<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgAmGT-o_4kgzg8EJ_9fwPJsAIjtXA3nxDTFjrCWn3DJ9ZAaeVnQSUw-UWWQOBegzRLOWyuedN3zbMjeiB7_xIWrJf4Xq1NPxx8jiWupwhv3mD_Kb_pSjNocMai5zhoNAptn3IqzcMVIluzsCPVbPRhIm0sa09qK79ke51Az6B7ikX4OaEEpBhxv__z=s1600" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgAmGT-o_4kgzg8EJ_9fwPJsAIjtXA3nxDTFjrCWn3DJ9ZAaeVnQSUw-UWWQOBegzRLOWyuedN3zbMjeiB7_xIWrJf4Xq1NPxx8jiWupwhv3mD_Kb_pSjNocMai5zhoNAptn3IqzcMVIluzsCPVbPRhIm0sa09qK79ke51Az6B7ikX4OaEEpBhxv__z=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></div><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Sometime in 1985, two years into my NYC tenure</span> doing any kind of musical work whatsoever to break into the scene, I got a call for my first recording date. This was somewhat happenstance. My girlfriend at the time, a cellist doing classical music gigs in the city, was working with a bassist named James Bergman who was part of some kind of “new music” group. They were looking for a saxophonist to play on their new recording project and she recommended me. They of course needed to hear me play and sent some music in advance of a first meeting with the composer, Mikel Rouse. Upon seeing the parts I was struck by their simplicity. I played through a few sections and put it away without finishing, thinking I’d just read it at the audition. <br /><br />At this point in time I don’t recall much about that first get-together except that Mikel Rouse looked every bit the serious composer, wearing an impeccably clean and perfectly pressed white shirt, sitting at a table, pencil behind his ear, a large set of scores in front of him and not smiling. He was about my age but I knew very few people of our generation who presented themselves in such a way. I wasn’t sure what to think but I was intrigued and knew enough to simply try and be professional. Having already experienced some of the storied cynicism of the music business in the form of old-school fly-by-night contractors and jaded musicians, this was refreshing. Plus the music seemed to present no real challenges so I wasn’t nervous. I probably should have been. <br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br />We began playing and within a few measures I was completely lost. </span>The simple musical line I was seeing on the page represented just one of many independent rhythmic patterns unfolding through a long series of permutations resolving with the other parts at select moments before moving on again in a constant and unrelenting stream of interlocking motion. I was holding on for dear life but fortunately the concentration required did not allow the luxury of worrying about it. Mikel was patient yet steady and it occurred to me that this situation was almost to be expected. I guess I must have done alright and was offered the gig. <br /><br />The Mikel Rouse Broken Concert resembled more of a jazz band in it’s instrumentation and something of a rock band in conception; keyboard, soprano saxophone, electric bass and drums. And yet the music was completely notated, no improvisation whatsoever. Adding to this somewhat disorienting situation there was actually no drummer, the score being composed entirely for drum machine. That seemed pretty daring at the time but Mikel told me he had actually done an entire LP for drum machine alone called “Quorum”. I couldn’t imagine what that would have sounded like and I wasn’t sure I would have liked it but at the same time, given that this was all new to me, I respected the fact that he actually did it. <br /><br />The recording session turned out to be an overdubbing session in that everything was already recorded except for the saxophone part. This took place at BC Studios in the Gowanus section of Brooklyn, run by Martin Bisi who established it with Bill Laswell and Brian Eno. One good thing about this approach was that it afforded the opportunity to record the music in sections, which was a relief because it required stamina and offered few places to breathe. We worked piecemeal in this fashion and within a few hours the session was done. It was stimulating but I still didn’t know quite what to think about the whole thing. <br /><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEip_XIPyRbfssu7Nu1iONwImd0aLD07PHvbl2olHoSZXnPW6HcdtaVTOHB_gVji1LGXwbEAF2XTOALFIr-inaHY9bh1XxijwBd4HJD31yUCAMeTeoIBrbUi6sythe_uo0Gz9gn3TQSpJpIHbhPgNeXMrHKESBUm0a3bxHe3yrhAWYjpjPH3ZsxrQNpZ=s914" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="602" data-original-width="914" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEip_XIPyRbfssu7Nu1iONwImd0aLD07PHvbl2olHoSZXnPW6HcdtaVTOHB_gVji1LGXwbEAF2XTOALFIr-inaHY9bh1XxijwBd4HJD31yUCAMeTeoIBrbUi6sythe_uo0Gz9gn3TQSpJpIHbhPgNeXMrHKESBUm0a3bxHe3yrhAWYjpjPH3ZsxrQNpZ=s320" width="320" /></a></div>It would take about two years before the recording was finally released on Cuneiform Records, a new company at the time that has since developed an extensive catalogue of all kinds of new and adventurous music. In the time leading up to this Mikel wanted to do some live work with the ensemble. But rather than use the drum machine Mikel decided to look for someone who could play the drum machine parts on a full drum kit, no small feat. Mikel’s music is constructed such that the keyboard plays the role of timekeeper allowing the drum part freer range. In the process the drum part became much less idiomatic of what real drummers find natural to play. I don’t know how he went about it but the person he found, Bill Tesar, wound up doing an amazing job. Bill also ran a musical instrument rental company in the city which had a recording studio where we sometimes rehearsed. I recall one afternoon in which guitarist Bill Frisell and drummer Joey Baron came by to check out the studio. We didn’t get to say hello but I could see them up in the control booth while we rehearsed. When I joined Joey’s trio “Baron Down” some years later he told me that seeing that rehearsal stuck in his mind because it was so different than what anyone else was doing. That was fortuitous since most of my musician friends either hated the music or at best were perplexed. I had invited a couple of my drummer friends to attended one of our live gigs thinking they’d be impressed that Bill managed to figure out how to play Mikel’s drum parts. While they did seem vaguely impressed they were more like, “but, why?” To be honest, I was often ambivalent myself. During the performances I always put myself into the music completely and found it very compelling. Afterwards in thinking about it I wasn’t always so sure. Basically each piece began with no warning, maintaining a steady pulse and dynamic throughout and then stopped as suddenly as it had started. I recall mentioning to Jim Bergman the fact that the music didn’t seem to go anywhere. He said that criticism had been made by others as well but he didn’t seem fazed by it at all. Fact is, that was never the point. Compositionally, a process was set in motion that simply played itself out and if you immersed yourself in it you might begin to experience it’s internal machinations as something more expansive. No need for introductions or endings but I could think of no other examples of music that operated in that way. <br /><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">At the time Mikel’s music was tenuously compared to minimalism. </span>Composers like Philip Glass and Steve Reich had been writing rhythmic music based on repetition and this was certainly not unrelated. But there were probably more differences than similarities, such that <span style="font-size: medium;">music writer Kyle Gann began referring to it as totalism</span> for being more eclectic and having less concern with stylistic consistency. There were other composers under this umbrella but to my ear they all sounded rather different from one another in approach. And in listening back today Mikel’s music remains unique. You can hear that on the recording we made titled “A Lincoln Portrait”, the title inspired by a series of allegorical paintings by artist Tim Steele that spoke to Mikel’s artistic and political sensibilities. As for live performances, there were a handful in New York City at places like the Alternative Museum, Roulette and Dance Theater Workshop as well as a radio broadcast gig for WNYC called the Americathon and an appearance on the Transonic New Music Festival in Philadelphia, all spread out over a period of about a year. At a certain point Mikel decided to take the group in a more electric direction and began using guitar instead of saxophone for reasons that make sense, one being that guitarists don’t need to breathe in order to play. Well, we all need to breathe in order to do anything but you get the point. <br /><br />Since that time Mikel and I have continued to stay in touch. We both live in midtown and occasionally run into each other on the street, keeping each other informed and attending each others concerts over the years. I began expressing to Mikel how my appreciation for his music had grown since those early, somewhat uncertain days. Back then we would rehearse regularly for many weeks prior to a gig as it took time to learn the music and even more time for it to gel. I remember well the first time that happened, somehow everything clicked and I experienced what I can only call the long-form groove in his music. Those resolution points that were stretched out over great lengths began to connect and speak to each other and it all snuck up on me in a visceral way. This longer form awareness within a music of such heightened rhythmic independence proved to have a powerful effect in the realm of free improvisation, which I was taking up in earnest at around that same time. This was unexpected given that these musical worlds could not have seemed more distant from each other. I’ve had a few musical experiences over the years that really turned my head around, Joey Baron’s group “Baron Down” being one of them. The Broken Consort was certainly another one but it took some years for me to realize it. <br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgOGh5PKuNhvWVq_0jj3LdLbNKEdffo4SwS0_2mAJYKIkBM7QnEzQnSgEuVJ84GRcgnJwK9g5FLZ-G99SjdzZomSqsqSgTVVB7msTteOJ3brq9dLyPvkrIzYrge626T1vW70DLtaPkxlMnAGwP4UFnTAHfk14wmB_HE31ZlvD1a8RNWpoE4nqobbU2M=s1200" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgOGh5PKuNhvWVq_0jj3LdLbNKEdffo4SwS0_2mAJYKIkBM7QnEzQnSgEuVJ84GRcgnJwK9g5FLZ-G99SjdzZomSqsqSgTVVB7msTteOJ3brq9dLyPvkrIzYrge626T1vW70DLtaPkxlMnAGwP4UFnTAHfk14wmB_HE31ZlvD1a8RNWpoE4nqobbU2M=w200-h200" width="200" /></a></div><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;">I’m reminded of all this because Mikel has been working on his archives of late and one of our live concerts has just been posted on his Band Camp page. </span></b>If you’re game, I invite you to have a listen to the <a href="https://mikelrouse.bandcamp.com/album/mikel-rouse-broken-consort-live-1987" target="_blank">MRBC live at Dance Theater Workshop</a> from 1987 although you might begin with the studio recording <a href="https://mikelrouse.bandcamp.com/album/a-lincoln-portrait" target="_blank">“A Lincoln Portrait”</a> for some context. Additionally there is a live radio performance and interview for New Sounds with John Schaefer on WNYC, also from 1987, archived on <a href="https://www.newsounds.org/story/64828-the-undead-88-mikel-rouse-broken-consort/" target="_blank">John’s web site</a>. I should point out that Mikel was one of the first musicians I worked with who impressed me by being so articulate when speaking about music, something else I’ve taken inspiration from. <br /><br />In retrospect, whether this particular incarnation of the group fully achieved its goals or potential remains a question. Listening back I can sense some of the struggles I had although those struggles diminish as compared to the fact that my overall experience in the group was entirely positive. The dedication and musicianship that Mikel, Jim and Bill brought to the project helped me to become a better musician. From this vantage point it seems clear that the effect of this music traveled well beyond the group and it’s time-frame, short lived though it was, contributing to that scene as well as informing the work we’ve each done since. <span style="font-size: medium;">And for that I’m grateful for the experience. </span><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p></p>Ellery Eskelinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17754806219906266323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507365900573255257.post-29926738617101661982022-01-09T23:47:00.003-05:002022-01-10T00:14:16.954-05:00Content, Process and Barry Harris<p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiUGaooNbH8irrNN0qVsQxjEDTskp9HUn22y8GdWXMQT0z8bMaLZg0k3Jq9asOpZbEWZBU4TQCjC_9T63x1Xr6ZbxlsBPGk8bZZtg4y-40sUMrEUsVbtBFlUysVUVNSrT0TmQF9dntXFktLkzMIRMHjf3E5__Bzh7wRxsf8fVZaw53S4uafZ7QIRUY0=s1280" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="854" data-original-width="1280" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiUGaooNbH8irrNN0qVsQxjEDTskp9HUn22y8GdWXMQT0z8bMaLZg0k3Jq9asOpZbEWZBU4TQCjC_9T63x1Xr6ZbxlsBPGk8bZZtg4y-40sUMrEUsVbtBFlUysVUVNSrT0TmQF9dntXFktLkzMIRMHjf3E5__Bzh7wRxsf8fVZaw53S4uafZ7QIRUY0=s320" width="320" /></a></span></div><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Pianist Barry Harris recently passed, at the age of 91. </span> He was a true master of the music and one of the most generous teachers the music has ever had. I never had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Harris but in the early eighties I lived right down the street from the Jazz Cultural Theater, a venue he established here in New York City. I recall playing there once or twice with Jaki Byard’s Apollo Stompers. I knew that Barry was offering classes there but for some reason I never availed myself of the opportunity. I might have had the idea that these classes were for pianists or perhaps I was intimidated, feeling I lacked sufficient knowledge of harmony to gain anything from his sessions. From the many videos of his teaching that have surfaced over the years, I can see that I would have benefited from just being in the same room with him, he was that charged. <br /><br />This blog is dedicated to exploring the creative process in words, perhaps too many. Barry Harris didn’t have to talk much about creativity or process, he himself was a creative process in motion. I can’t help but think that underneath the content of his teaching, in spite of his strong opinions about music and his no nonsense approach to it all, his dynamism was intended to help you understand that you too are a creative process.<br /><br />As much as I’ve written about process I don’t know that I’ve explored the tension between process and content. The <a href="https://elleryeskelin.bandcamp.com/" target="_blank">archival work</a> I’ve been doing these past months, getting recordings out of my closet and into people’s ears, has involved reviewing decades worth of work. In listening back to all of this, remembering what things were like at the time, what we thought of music then, what we might think of music now, it’s kind of fascinating. And yet I’m struck by how little any of that actually matters. Actually it does matter, just not in the quite the same way. Over time, the relationship between content and process naturally shifts.<br /><br /><b><span style="font-size: medium;">So how do we think about creativity today? </span>What informs our image of the artist? </b> For many years it was the movies, offering highly stylized and romanticized portrayals of the “tortured genius” (almost always a man) featuring their “very bad behavior”. There is never any mention of the immense amount of hard work that goes into developing the skills required to be an artist. In books, and especially in on-line blogs and journals, there has emerged a different yet equally misleading portrayal. Phrases like “flow state” and “in the zone” have gained a certain currency, moving from new-age jargon into mainstream advertising. These articles always strike me as being a little too easy, as if being in a certain enhanced state of mind is all that is needed in order to improve oneself, make better art or get more gigs. Sometimes the phrase “just do the work” is thrown in but our cultural inheritance by way of the puritan work ethic makes this sound like a form of virtuous punishment. Combined with the strange confluence in our society between self-help on the one hand and corporate productivity on the other, I reserve the right to be dubious of all this. Besides, my own experience tells a different story.<br /><br />Musicians and artists also speak about flow states and zones, which is fine although this often creates the impression of a rarified state that happens only occasionally. There are certainly those kinds of moments on the bandstand but I’ve never been convinced that they necessarily equate with better music. When I listen back to the recordings in the archive I’m reminded that some gigs felt great and others were hard work. I’ve detected no correlation in quality between those categories nor do I see any reason to make music into a process of chasing after peak experiences. What interests me more is how we manage to play through all kinds of conditions only to look back and wonder what the hell happened to the drama surrounding it all? Clearly, making music does not require a particular state of mind.<br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Anyway, what about content? </span> </b>I recall once taking part in a creativity seminar in which a bunch of us untrained folks picked up brushes and tried our hands at painting with black ink. The skills involved were deemphasized to the extreme in order to get folks loosened up and free of their inhibitions. Some degree of brush control is necessary so we took a few moments at the beginning to get a feel for that, just making different kinds of straight lines, thin, medium, heavy. That was fun and I wished we could have done that the entire time. As soon it came time to actually make a picture that’s when everyone, myself included, seized up under that very particular kind of anxiety known as embarrassment. That and maybe some frustration over not having the skills needed to paint what I could imagine painting. <br /><b><br /></b>So creating content requires some degree of skill, yes? But I’m cautious here because of the tendency to consider a certain amount of skill to be a prerequisite for creativity to then flow forth. At that seminar, I was completely happy to simply make lines and see what happens as I acclimated to the subtle sensations of moving the brush. It was very simple and very clear, involving attention, responsiveness and making choices.<span style="font-size: small;"> To me, that is a good definition of creativity. </span>I understand as a matter of practicality why we couldn’t paint lines all day as well as understanding that we needed an opportunity to work through our inhibitions when it came time to making “art”, which as it turns out can be made at any time.<br /><b><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">That’s one side of the equation. </span></b>The other side is quite well exemplified in jazz education. As it happens, I’ve received notices on a number of new jazz instruction books and blog posts this past couple of weeks. I always enjoy checking these out and usually wind up finding something in them to practice. Still, there is a degree of ambivalence in this. On the one hand, jazz education has come a long way and I wish I had books like this when I was starting out. On the other, there is often a freeze-dried quality to the presentation of the material. Perhaps more importantly, I’m concerned about the continued emphasis on chord-scales as being the source material and generator of one’s improvisation. It is my conviction that voice-leading be at the heart of an investigation into harmony. Barry Harris spoke a great deal about scales but he did so with a thorough understanding of voice leading as his basis. He was explicit in stating that we should not think of chords but rather chord movements. At the risk of over-simplifying things, if someone had shown me how to improvise smoothly, simply and melodically through I, IV and V chord movements when I was fourteen years old I might have had a much easier time of it. Be that as it may, I relate these things in order to convey a sense of how content has come to be regarded and taught in jazz academia. I might say it’s a bit backwards. Or at the very least there is a sense that the creative process can only commence once the material has been thoroughly dissected, examined and only then stitched back together. <br /><br /><b>Here’s the thing, </b>I’m not saying we shouldn’t practice material in a particular order or that we should necessarily preference one approach to teaching over another. There are a variety of opinions in play and this does not even include a discussion of the fact that there are scores of jazz musicians who have bypassed traditional instrumental pedagogy entirely and to great effect. But it is easy for me to equate the painting of lines on paper with the practice of playing long tones on the saxophone. We don’t usually think of playing long tones as a creative act, in fact it’s usually felt to be the opposite. That’s unfortunate and I’ve devoted a good amount of energy in my teaching to disabusing students of that notion. This is especially important given the fact that most of my students are not beginners. I’ve modified the practice of long tones from the playing of one long note to the playing of one note to another, in other words a pair of connected long tones. This is an excellent practice for flexibility on a physical level but at the same time it is perhaps the most elemental and fundamental creative action we can practice. The advanced student will soon realize that this simple act contains and puts into action everything you will ever learn about music. In a way, playing one note to another<i> is </i>everything you will ever know about music, not as a limiting factor but an unlimited one. If that sounds a bit grandiose just think about it. As a saxophonist no matter the profundity of your ideas, the only thing you actually do is put air into a metal tube. And just where is the separation between those brilliant ideas and all of that repeated huffing and puffing? This reminds me of something the great Japanese flute master Watazumi Doso is reported to have said, “He who blows Ro ten minutes every day can become a master.” Ro is the lowest note on a bamboo flute. I like to think of playing the saxophone as if it was all a low Bb (the lowest note on the horn), that note containing all the notes above it, the keys on the horn being there just as an assist. <br /><br />Watazumi also spoke about the “one sound”. That makes me think of saxophonist Wayne Shorter. There is something about his sound, especially in the last couple of decades, that strikes me as being complete in a rather profound way. But it’s not some magical or esoteric thing, it’s clearly taken him a lot of practice. Or perhaps practice is the magical thing, even when it doesn’t feel all that magical. And so it occurs to me that the sound we make is already complete, it just requires some practice. And that practice, no matter what it feels like, is not different from the peak experience you had on that gig one time. There may be dividing lines in terms of the content but where are the dividing lines in the overall process, the experience that encompasses it all?<br /><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Process and content function as one thing.</b></span><br /><br /><b>I’m thinking of that stock phrase, “we must learn how to walk before we can run”. </b>Without negating that I might consider the implication that once we’ve learned how to walk that’s it, done deal, good to go. But when do we stop learning how to walk? Our bodies change over time requiring that we adjust the way we move, perhaps beginning a program of exercise or yoga in order to relearn how to use our bodies which are changing every day. This learning and relearning continues for a lifetime. Perhaps that’s an odd way to look at it but it’s easy to take walking for granted until perhaps you can’t do it any longer. <br /><br />In closing I might just say that as musicians everything we do with our instrument is already creative, we don’t have to make it so, whether we are doing it in the solitude of a practice room or on stage in front of an audience. As for the issue of one’s personal artistic expression, that is of course formed by practice, knowledge and experience. But it’s also there from the beginning as well. Whether you care to think of it in that way or not I invite you to consider not postponing the day of it’s arrival and see the effect that may have on your daily practice. <br /><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">I hope to be able to resume teaching soon. Until then, these occasional musings will have to suffice. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Thanks for reading.</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></p><p></p>Ellery Eskelinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17754806219906266323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507365900573255257.post-80584495649760780652022-01-02T20:11:00.001-05:002022-01-02T20:14:32.651-05:00One More Once…<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiWGQDxU0iwZ8FwP8vm0oiVBSYPcUDF_BwwpiNQW3MvNny8_ZxeiTb2a97YmgRRZ8NPx-Q1zJffI_zEAv2EReViO91hPgabLWSoZXSubDY2vjQnBK-sU5wmNUev0Qu6IeRqkI5DXVoRuruAMVMmvMSZ52PaA_p1tunKMSJ5NXFLhnQaIlv0heyLUyF7=s1500" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1500" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiWGQDxU0iwZ8FwP8vm0oiVBSYPcUDF_BwwpiNQW3MvNny8_ZxeiTb2a97YmgRRZ8NPx-Q1zJffI_zEAv2EReViO91hPgabLWSoZXSubDY2vjQnBK-sU5wmNUev0Qu6IeRqkI5DXVoRuruAMVMmvMSZ52PaA_p1tunKMSJ5NXFLhnQaIlv0heyLUyF7=w400-h200" width="400" /></a></div><p><span style="font-size: large;">Suddenly it’s 2022</span><br /><br />Having been so absorbed in getting music out of my closet and into your ears I’m caught short with an appropriate introductory post for the new year. This particular music being of the archival variety I’ve been looking back. This retrospection has served to remind me of the social vibrancy that we’ve all shared in the past and will share again as conditions change. <b>So yes, happy new year to you and yours.</b><br /><br />The <a href="https://elleryeskelin.bandcamp.com/" target="_blank">archival series on Band Camp</a> is currently up to twenty-eight. Five titles went up just last evening. I keep thinking that I’ve turned up everything worth sharing and yet I always find that I’ve overlooked something. Here’s what’s new:<br /><br />Trio New York (Eskelin, Versace, Cleaver) - Live in Amsterdam, 2012<br />Ellery Eskelin w/Andrea Parkins & Jim Black + Jessica Constable - Live in Amsterdam, 2004<br />Ellery Eskelin w/Andrea Parkins & Jim Black + Jessica Constable - Live in Paris, 2010<br />Ellery Eskelin, Erik Deutsch, Allison Miller - Live in Philadelphia, 2009<br />Ellery Eskelin, Erik Deutsch, Allison Miller - Live in NYC, 2010<br /><br />The two recordings from Amsterdam are each from The Bimhuis, a venue with a concert history going back to 1974. The accumulated energy of the place always seems to lift the music right from the start. The two concerts with Andrea Parkins , Jim Black and vocalist Jessica Constable are contrasting documents. On “Live in Amsterdam” Jessica melds with us on existing repertoire that we had been doing previously as a trio. But on “Live in Paris” I gave Jessica the musical reins for the evening. She employed her own compositions in the form of voice, recordings and samples while Andrea, Jim and I improvised upon hearing them for the first time in the performance. This was a special concert also in that it was the last performance by EEw/AP&JB. I also discovered two recordings from what might be termed an alternative organ trio with organist Erik Deutsch and drummer Allison Miller. It’s a very different sound than Trio New York. Given that this group never released any recordings I was happy to find these.<br /><br />In looking forward into the new year, having taken stock of years past, I’m thinking about the ways in which music and art change. How our perspective on our own time changes with time. And how not to take anything for granted. It’s a good feeling.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p></p>Ellery Eskelinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17754806219906266323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507365900573255257.post-12656846101296696892021-12-27T00:41:00.002-05:002021-12-27T13:22:09.134-05:00More from the Archives<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhTNVR6fkYSJLeCvqZA_wdz-6uAy6bg1sYh--jQd6iYDQ2c1KCaT7w0yn9nDoW0KMTmI8V9L2Vx4SUf2MsUqAJBQ4ZqP-ONlx-Qy-f-4p5nzOewF7E5zF1wUHbLE3zGNvbGdubdLmi0gIe_ALm7KP3BXaRS3QEmTCb1er-QD0QCUiJFRubd_jTAtxP5=s3282" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2525" data-original-width="3282" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhTNVR6fkYSJLeCvqZA_wdz-6uAy6bg1sYh--jQd6iYDQ2c1KCaT7w0yn9nDoW0KMTmI8V9L2Vx4SUf2MsUqAJBQ4ZqP-ONlx-Qy-f-4p5nzOewF7E5zF1wUHbLE3zGNvbGdubdLmi0gIe_ALm7KP3BXaRS3QEmTCb1er-QD0QCUiJFRubd_jTAtxP5=s320" width="320" /></a></div>I’ve just added eleven more live recordings to the <a href="https://elleryeskelin.bandcamp.com/">archival series at Band Camp</a>. It’s been rewarding to listen back to these and renew my appreciation of the many musicians, audience members and club owners who sustain the artistic life of New York City, seemingly against all odds. <br /><br />In the previous post I mentioned what a “hustle” it is to gig in NYC and how I once had to rattle the audience at the 55 Bar to get them ready for action. While that is true there is also another side, of which I encountered a reminder in my parting comments to the audience at the Cornelia Street Cafe finishing the weekend with Kris Davis and Billy Mintz in 2012. At the time, in saying of the club <b>“we’ve really come to love it”</b>, I may not have realized how true that was given that the cafe (which opened in 1977) was to close on new year’s day 2019. That’s almost exactly three years ago and it is certainly missed. The cafe was home to many musicians, artists, poets and writers. I’m happy to have been a part of that tradition and was very grateful for the license to do whatever we wanted musically. <br /><br />Most of these recordings are from NYC improv gigs and required a bit more work on the sound as they were recorded more casually at the time, hence their later addition. While imperfect they do seem to capture that elusive quality of “live”. I have worked to enhance the sound yet they remain the sonic artifacts that they are, fittingly. As such they have a very wide dynamic range. You may find the need to adjust the volume accordingly at times. <br /><br />These are the new additions. I hope you <a href="https://elleryeskelin.bandcamp.com/">enjoy listening</a>. <br /><p></p><p>Ellery Eskelin w/Andrea Parkins & Jim Black - Live in Reims, 2010<br />Trio New York (Eskelin, Versace, Waits) - Live in NYC at the Cornelia Street Cafe, 2010<br />Ellery Eskelin, Mary Halvorson, Mark Helias, Tyshawn Sorey - Live in NYC at The Stone, 2010<br />Ellery Eskelin, John Hébert, Tyshawn Sorey - Live in NYC at the 55 Bar, 2010<br />Ellery Eskelin, Kris Davis, Billy Mintz - Live in NYC, Cornelia Street Cafe, 2012<br />Ellery Eskelin, Jacob Sacks, John Hébert, Tyshawn Sorey - Live in NYC at the Cornelia Street Cafe, 2012<br />Ellery Eskelin, Chris Lightcap, Billy Mintz - Live in NYC at the Cornelia Street Cafe, 2012<br />Ellery Eskelin, Jacob Sacks, Brad Jones, Tyshawn Sorey - Live in NYC at the Cornelia Street Cafe, 2013<br />Trio New York (Eskelin, Versace, Cleaver) - Live in Antwerp, 2013<br />Ellery Eskelin, John Hébert, Billy Mintz - Live in NYC at the Cornelia Street Cafe, 2014<br />Ellery Eskelin, Drew Gress, Billy Mintz - Live in NYC at Jack, 2014<br /><br />In order to keep abreast of future additions please consider following the Band Camp Archive by clicking this icon. I have a list of potential recordings to be included but it will take time to get these organized and sonically polished up. Do stay tuned...<br /></p><p>
<iframe scrolling="no" src="https://bandcamp.com/band_follow_button_deluxe/3900325541" style="border: 0; height: 50px; width: 100%;"></iframe> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>Ellery Eskelinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17754806219906266323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507365900573255257.post-54823451361304574782021-12-12T02:37:00.007-05:002021-12-27T00:41:16.416-05:00From the Archives...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgCRUZmsvWMFnxjInGEXahqWQorpTmQGm0KJoPN-8OSZ81rim0lmdLgs3htrUqeMUiD9-fi6klYhl4eRhKlQxZOrXLrbuvWxAwtWnRW_KackA1H-Bs8oCDkKo60tQ3fowgXemSwTTK7sbRQErTtJvWJ2Aky9sACseQAxDUcQbcxpAFN-MX6LESyovgN=s1764" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1587" data-original-width="1764" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgCRUZmsvWMFnxjInGEXahqWQorpTmQGm0KJoPN-8OSZ81rim0lmdLgs3htrUqeMUiD9-fi6klYhl4eRhKlQxZOrXLrbuvWxAwtWnRW_KackA1H-Bs8oCDkKo60tQ3fowgXemSwTTK7sbRQErTtJvWJ2Aky9sACseQAxDUcQbcxpAFN-MX6LESyovgN=s320" width="320" /></a></div>Having finally worked my way through <a href="http://elleryeskelin.blogspot.com/2021/01/tape-is-rollingtake-one.html" target="_blank">thirty years worth of cassette tapes</a> I recently set upon a large bin of CDRs, another twenty years worth of recordings mostly live from tours by many different groups, so as to transfer them all to hard drives. It’s taken countless hours to go through and organize them but it’s satisfying to transform the contents of two heavy bins into a single hard drive that can be carried in one hand. It’s also satisfying to have something to show for one’s work and so I’m pleased to present some choice selections. <br /><p></p><p>The majority of these recordings come from European concert tours. While preparing them I had a chance to consider what it means to travel and play music for people around the world, particularly in Europe where the practicalities of touring are generally well managed by a network of experienced promoters across the continent. There is a long tradition of cultural support for the arts and it’s reflected in the way that audiences turn out for concerts of all kinds of music, welcoming artists with warmth and appreciation. I don’t like to make too much out of comparisons with the states as audiences are wonderful here as well. But there is no way around the fact that in NYC, gigging is always a hustle. A case in point was the Trio New York gig at the 55 Bar that is included here. I don’t actually recall the particulars but it was amusing to hear my introductory comments when announcing the band. New York audiences have a reputation for being jaded and in this case I made it clear from the start that I was in no mood for a lackluster response. A little good-natured aggression got things off to a nice start and the gig went very well. And for the record, this is in no way a complaint. While it’s not always easy, I do love New York.<br /><br />And on that note I’m hopeful that we can all come together again, more and more often. But for now, I offer these recordings as a reminder of what that’s like.</p><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>“From the Archives” is a series of live recordings personally chosen from my personal collection and offered only on Band Camp. </b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://elleryeskelin.bandcamp.com/" target="_blank">Have a Listen...</a> </span><br /></b></span></p><p><b>Included are:</b><br /><br />Ellery Eskelin w/Andrea Parkins & Jim Black - Live in London 2003 <br />Ellery Eskelin w/Andrea Parkins & Jim Black - Live in Lille 2010<br />Ellery Eskelin w/Andrea Parkins & Jim Black - Live in NYC, 2006 <br />Trio New York - Live in Montreal, 2012 <br />Trio New York - Live in Switzerland, 2012 <br />Trio New York - Live in New Haven, 2012<br />Trio New York - Live in NYC, 2010 <br />Ellery Eskelin, Antonin Rayon and Emmanuel Scarpa Live in Paris, 2010<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></i></span>Ellery Eskelin, Christian Weber and Michael Griener Live in Switzerland, 2011<br />Ellery Eskelin, Vincent Courtois, Sylvie Courvoisier - Live in NYC, 2007<br />Ellery Eskelin & Sylvie Courvoisier - Live in Ukiah, 2005 <br />Different But The Same (Eskelin, Liebman, Marino, Black) Live in Switzerland, 2005<br /><br /></p><p><i><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></i><br /></p>Ellery Eskelinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17754806219906266323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507365900573255257.post-41973814225579682242021-10-28T12:46:00.002-04:002021-12-12T16:41:13.430-05:00Across Breath, Voice, Silence...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYYJceikVGoXMunU1pO6culJ6_OQ3yaDQtf4pLjxFWL2atkc8BsDUlnQF0p00Z-KJJkFOR6fUgz5sSOSH5y08uOd5NrJGm9RYqsjAGg_ebPxfwO_kEXYpHDKpFVC_BtNksu478hBZDmUg/s2048/mountains.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYYJceikVGoXMunU1pO6culJ6_OQ3yaDQtf4pLjxFWL2atkc8BsDUlnQF0p00Z-KJJkFOR6fUgz5sSOSH5y08uOd5NrJGm9RYqsjAGg_ebPxfwO_kEXYpHDKpFVC_BtNksu478hBZDmUg/s2048/mountains.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYYJceikVGoXMunU1pO6culJ6_OQ3yaDQtf4pLjxFWL2atkc8BsDUlnQF0p00Z-KJJkFOR6fUgz5sSOSH5y08uOd5NrJGm9RYqsjAGg_ebPxfwO_kEXYpHDKpFVC_BtNksu478hBZDmUg/s320/mountains.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />Last month my wife and I traveled to Virginia where I had been invited by David Pope (the saxophone professor at James Madison University) to do a solo concert and teaching workshop at the school. Afterwards we took a couple of days to explore the Shenandoah mountains, this being our first opportunity to get out of NYC together since early last year. It was also the first opportunity I’ve had to perform publicly since the December 2019 European tour with Christian Weber and Michael Griener.<br /><br />A solo saxophone concert seemed appropriate given that playing alone is essentially what I’ve been doing all of this time here at home. In that sense I was well prepared and yet was reminded of the power of being on stage with a roomful of people in the audience. The performance space was ideal, a two hundred seat recital hall in the Forbes Center for the Performing Arts on the campus of the university. The folks at JMU are finely attuned to creating and maintaining optimal conditions for their season of musical events. It’s a vital cultural center not just for the school but for the entire area. Most importantly, the folks in attendance gave themselves to the music as much as I did. I could not have felt more welcomed. <br /><br />The concert was recorded and I feel it worth sharing. I always strive to keep the process of improvising as simple and natural as possible given that what happens, especially in a more lengthy musical journey, can become quite detailed and developmentally complex. After nearly two years of playing the horn alone there was much to say and yet there was also nothing to say, simply a matter of putting breath across a reed, shaping the sound as it goes out, amidst the silence.<br /><br />If you’d like to have a listen, <a href="https://elleryeskelin.bandcamp.com/album/across-breath-voice-silence" target="_blank">the recording is offered on bandcamp.</a><br /><br />I want to especially thank David Pope, a wonderful musician and dedicated teacher. We first met in 2003 when he extended an invitation to bring my group with Andrea Parkins and Jim Black to the school for a performance. We’ve kept in touch since then and I’ve learned a lot from our exchanges on all things saxophone. This time we got to spend an evening together listening to music as Dave shared with us stories of his time as a student at the University of Massachusetts where he studied with Yusef Lateef. One of Dave’s cherished items is the mouthpiece that Yusef played for his entire career. When he showed it to me I asked him to put on Charles Mingus’ “Prayer for Passive Resistance” which features an emotionally riveting performance by Yusef. Listening to the music on a state-of-the-art sound system while holding that mouthpiece in my hands I wondered about the ordinariness of a piece of metal, hearing the reflection of a musical event from many years past and being alive here in this moment, knowing that in whatever seems missing, nothing is lost.<br /><br />The teaching portion of the week was a blast, listening to each student perform, prodding them with questions and then giving them another go. I could do that kind of thing all day long. As a number of the performances were for solo saxophone I was impressed with how the students found themselves in the music, whether bringing to life someone else’s composition or one of their own as was the case for a student who composed her own solo piece. <br /><br />Bringing music alive from any time and place, in this time and place. All in all, a very affirming experience…<br /><br /><p></p>Ellery Eskelinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17754806219906266323noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507365900573255257.post-73205233179462227262021-06-10T11:30:00.002-04:002021-06-10T13:00:29.729-04:00June 2021<p><b>I’m pleased to announce my first in-person appearance</b> in many months to take place at James Madison University in Virginia this September. This will take the form of a solo saxophone performance and masterclass. </p><p>The challenges we’ve all faced this past year have only served to reinforce my long held feelings that music and education are social activities. We’ve all done our best with technology in order to keep things going but I look forward to offering in-person music lessons in the coming months as things continue to open up again. I do feel however that there is some value in using video conferencing as a form of consultation for folks who can not otherwise come to NYC. This is not a replacement for a music lesson but simply a means to discuss musical concepts as well as issues concerning education, business and career. If interested please feel free to contact me <a href="mailto:ellery.eskelin@gmail.com">via e-mail</a>.</p><p>In light of that I’m posting a recent video interview rather than the normal written essay. </p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Looking forward to new music and new stories in the months ahead…</b></span></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="422" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/_VdmCmh-BAw" width="555" youtube-src-id="_VdmCmh-BAw"></iframe></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Ellery Eskelinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17754806219906266323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507365900573255257.post-72188806490239038002021-03-26T15:46:00.018-04:002021-10-01T15:30:14.098-04:0010:30 on the Eleventh / ZAH<p><i> </i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikcOoo-zD9un99r6opFmGQFJnIuts8UUZN-DYtTCamZOQzQvK-kc6YsyNfaFBPo0IWLYIZWDo1HhUEECf6p8N-xkrO6ejIq_ppTjlTVFjyMFcqE533PcScGm8YOtqXvSlkpgzehguPXFk/s2048/ZAH.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1413" data-original-width="2048" height="442" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikcOoo-zD9un99r6opFmGQFJnIuts8UUZN-DYtTCamZOQzQvK-kc6YsyNfaFBPo0IWLYIZWDo1HhUEECf6p8N-xkrO6ejIq_ppTjlTVFjyMFcqE533PcScGm8YOtqXvSlkpgzehguPXFk/w640-h442/ZAH.jpg" width="640" /></a></i></div><p></p><p><i>ZAH is a new jazz group pursuing a specific goal: the complete three hundred sixty degree expression of modern musical sensibility. It is a music tending toward a larger articulation, drawing on the unlimited resources of tradition as well as sudden, raw inspiration. All creative elements are carefully shaped, or left unshaped, with the expressive ideal in mind. Saxophone, bass and percussion are the components; they combine in a straight-forward way, producing an uncluttered environment in which each instrument is featured with chamber-music clarity. If it serves it’s purpose, ZAH will meld Buddhist cantillation with insane fortissimo ring-modulated clusters, post-Coltrane sax lines with Neolithic ritual, florid Classical cadenzas with crippled disco rhythms. And, of course, them blues, them changes. ZAH is a continually evolving music concerned with growth, not market-place expediency. </i></p><p>Jazz Echo, Publication of the International Jazz Federation, Inc Vol. 9, no. 42 October 1979</p><p><br /></p><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;">In 1979 saxophonist Mel Ellison, bassist Michael Willens and percussionist Michael Levenson went into Downtown Sound recording studio in New York City to create an album of music under the band name ZAH. It was never released. </span> </b>The studio went out of business a year later and the master tapes are almost certainly lost. It’s not the first such story in the music business but it’s one that crosses my own trajectory albeit tangentially. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUi_BOq4M-WeohzRZaGX8r0kx2MWNQxelktph2D6zeTgsJFoXJhi3ddXEy-U5_qDYOXDyL921aPNU8ilMVw4v_3fu26sLRPZf0on5XaWb_dN8LPJDo0BF-vSKHMLrNQZzGBA2h3lXELFw/s480/FellsPointBaltimore+copy.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="340" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUi_BOq4M-WeohzRZaGX8r0kx2MWNQxelktph2D6zeTgsJFoXJhi3ddXEy-U5_qDYOXDyL921aPNU8ilMVw4v_3fu26sLRPZf0on5XaWb_dN8LPJDo0BF-vSKHMLrNQZzGBA2h3lXELFw/s320/FellsPointBaltimore+copy.jpg" /></a></div><p><span style="font-weight: bold;">I wrote about Mel Ellison ten years ago in the <a href="http://elleryeskelin.blogspot.com/2010/05/mel-ellison.html" target="_blank">second post of this blog.</a> </span>Mel and I met in 1979 when he was playing with trumpeter Ted Curson in my hometown of Baltimore at a club called the Bandstand. The owner of the club, Mike Binsky, had produced a three day festival presenting a host of musicians including Sonny Stitt and Ted Curson. During the afternoons there was a jam session with the rhythm section of Ted Curson’s group, pianist Armen Donelian, bassist Ratzo Harris and drummer Tom Rainey. I came by to play and got my first lesson in New York attitude from Armen when he rolled his eyes at the fact that I couldn’t play the tune I had called in the proper key, asking him to transpose. But things went well enough and I had a chance to talk with each of them about New York. Sonny Stitt came in that afternoon and saxophonist David Schnitter was hanging with him, almost literally. Everywhere Sonny went David was right there asking a question, <span style="font-size: medium;">“Sonny, what about this? Sonny, what about that”? </span> Sonny couldn’t move his arm without David trying to get a little closer, to see what Sonny was doing. It was a beautiful thing to see David’s admiration for Sonny, trying to pick up anything he could for the music. The photograph posted here was part of Mike Binsky’s promotional effort, driving Sonny Stitt and company around the city in a convertible limo with the festival poster (where you can see the Ted Curson Sextet listed) draped prominently on the side. Sonny Stitt is in the back seat and David Schnitter is seated next to him. In the front is the late great Baltimore saxophonist Arnold Sterling.</p><p></p><p><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3-KNp1pJ28Em7i1YLGq3KiBDWPy-kH33cAGqKGykTlma_BAPTUQBNZviRPm14JvyFf2OTAk2OdNieJ1eVOSZDEW3nllj10mlhAtS8nP4fz8AykP6KWHqTvNewsY1hCX8-Bo21dyhqDck/s819/Curson.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="655" data-original-width="819" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3-KNp1pJ28Em7i1YLGq3KiBDWPy-kH33cAGqKGykTlma_BAPTUQBNZviRPm14JvyFf2OTAk2OdNieJ1eVOSZDEW3nllj10mlhAtS8nP4fz8AykP6KWHqTvNewsY1hCX8-Bo21dyhqDck/s320/Curson.jpg" width="320" /></a></b></div><b>That evening Ted Curson’s band played. </b> In addition to the aforementioned rhythm section was Mel Ellison on saxophones and Montego Joe on percussion. Ted Curson had once played in bassist Charles Mingus’s group and the energy crackled in much the same way. The music swirled in a million directions but my attention was largely on Mel, playing like I’d never quite heard anyone play the horn before. A very dark sound with all kinds of oblique intervals. I went back again the second night and asked Mel for a saxophone lesson. We met the next morning and I had a chance to speak with him at length during the half hour drive each way through city traffic from his hotel to my place. I was nineteen and my head was in the clouds as I became increasingly engrossed in the conversation only to have Mel calmly inform me that we were stopped behind a parked car. I don’t quite remember everything that took place in the lesson but there was a good amount of tried and true advice given around issues of musicality. The main thing was his vibe, the way he spoke and handled himself. He was gentle and caring, even somewhat self effacing. At the same time it was like, <b>you knew he knew.</b> It wasn’t so much what he said but you just felt it. <p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFAbpaHk_hN5iHqy8O1czGU7QUyRPcMZK8POmahkQsSWawuV4UaIIKXXwLJrQHPe5c8tQR_XC-8E2tRtlq4RS7zQlaeaky_tMyBPrYtupQ20LgeM8Z1ULWMF1sFfxcOj2bF-Vznl-zQEU/s170/early+Mel.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="151" data-original-width="170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFAbpaHk_hN5iHqy8O1czGU7QUyRPcMZK8POmahkQsSWawuV4UaIIKXXwLJrQHPe5c8tQR_XC-8E2tRtlq4RS7zQlaeaky_tMyBPrYtupQ20LgeM8Z1ULWMF1sFfxcOj2bF-Vznl-zQEU/s0/early+Mel.jpg" /></a></div>One weekend about a month later I decided to take the train to NYC for a visit to see for myself what it was all about. I didn’t know one borough from another, had no place lined up to stay and didn’t know anyone in the city except Mel, whose number I had with me. I figured I’d take my horn, a little cash, find a cheap hotel for a couple of nights and just look around. The train conductor announced New York City and everyone disembarked, slowly working their way upstairs. I was hungry so I ordered something at the station deli, took it to go and was immediately overwhelmed upon hitting the street. People were MOVING, endless lines of folks all winding their way around each other. I just wanted to eat and there was nowhere to be so I found a piece of wall to lean up against and grab a few bites. Within seconds an enormous guy smiling a big huge grin come right up to me and demanded <span style="font-size: medium;">“Gimme your sandwich!” </span> I moved and kept moving for blocks, looking for a suitable hotel, finding everything to be way over the money I had. Eventually I found myself in midtown and saw a sign for the Fulton Hotel. Rooms were only $12 bucks a night. Relieved I walked up the stairs and encountered a man sitting behind a plexiglass barrier, the manager I assumed. The place was old, dark and dank, the wood floors creaky. There was a sign that ran down the cost of the rooms. Hourly rates were also available. The clientele seemed furtive, nobody smiled, hardly anything was said. I paid for a night, went to the room, looked out the window and stared for a long time. Innumerable yellow taxi cabs lined the avenue. <p></p><p><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIDBPzntVFZRt_k0FFMV7V2e0LobVaahwfYSw7N4-Ko7Bfe_6Nvqt9KdPQXzLCUEWy9YkWSSZvsf4agWYFkloyTjHOCL_QHNfDuh9xz4lfGNqnhU_NF9pLi1SyrAhRMJr2ubJOsqqcKk8/s565/Fulton.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="327" data-original-width="565" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIDBPzntVFZRt_k0FFMV7V2e0LobVaahwfYSw7N4-Ko7Bfe_6Nvqt9KdPQXzLCUEWy9YkWSSZvsf4agWYFkloyTjHOCL_QHNfDuh9xz4lfGNqnhU_NF9pLi1SyrAhRMJr2ubJOsqqcKk8/s320/Fulton.jpg" width="320" /></a></b></div><b>I took out the piece of paper with Mel’s number on it,</b> went to the payphone and dialed having no idea if he was in town or not. Mel picked up and I announced myself as the guy who took a lesson a month or so back. “Sounds like someone’s in the Big Apple” he said. After a brief conversation Mel invited me over to his place. “I’m just a few blocks from your suite at the Fulton” he said. Mel lived on West 46th street in a walkup. One room is all I remember and a pretty spartan one at that. There was nothing except a bed, a television set, a stereo and a huge cappuccino maker, the kind you might see in an Italian restaurant. Mel had his horns out and was practicing. Standing in the middle of the room with his saxophone, bare floors and walls, minimal accoutrements, combined with his calm presence he gave off a monk-like aura. Maybe it was his Bay Area roots, but he was rather laid back, not at all anxious or up tight about things but at the same time I could tell that he took it all seriously, just not too seriously. <p></p><p>As he was playing I became so inspired that I decided to take my horn out, unasked, and tried playing with him. This was much more forward than I would be in any other situation and I couldn't believe I was actually doing this but it felt almost magical, as if these were the best notes I'd ever played before. Mel stopped playing and didn't say anything. I was a bit uncertain as to why he didn't acknowledge my playing but at the same time it was all cool, he wasn't ruffled nor did he convey any kind of attitude. We kept talking and at a certain point he decided to play some music he’d recently recorded. All I remember was that I liked it but couldn’t really say what it sounded like, it was elusive to my ears, I couldn’t grab it. In retrospect I’m pretty certain this was a recording by a group he was in called ZAH. Mel said "I've played every kind of music and gig there is and at this point I only want to play the music that I want to do”. I could tell that this was not a selfish statement given that he backed it up by driving a taxi and later a limousine to make ends meet. He's certainly not the first person with such a story but he was the first such person that I had met and he lived in NYC, the place I wanted to be, intimidating as it was especially at that time. All in all he was enjoyable to hang out with, laughed easily and had a positive vibe even as he did not shy away from the urban realities he was immersed in. After all, this was Times Square in the ‘70s, not at all a playground. </p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH5RbLNxbUPYiDS2NqIkt4zqD21gMai-YdL-xDMNsr-pFDh_JPtmQSVeSk-V32kni7Hdf_IsLmqz-uODOeVvfLJeunaJcTm1EBvHbbFD8zZIFe9OwyhRWSAUhQoLL8W7cKWgnyQHPNjDo/s392/Byard.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="254" data-original-width="392" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH5RbLNxbUPYiDS2NqIkt4zqD21gMai-YdL-xDMNsr-pFDh_JPtmQSVeSk-V32kni7Hdf_IsLmqz-uODOeVvfLJeunaJcTm1EBvHbbFD8zZIFe9OwyhRWSAUhQoLL8W7cKWgnyQHPNjDo/s320/Byard.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;">That evening Mel had a gig with pianist Jaki Byard’s big band, the Apollo Stompers. </span> I tagged along, riding the subway with him and one of the trombone players who struck me as tremendously underdressed for the occasion, raggedy jeans, sneakers and a rumply t-shirt. He didn’t look like he was on the way to a gig at all, more like he’d just got up out of bed. <b>Everyone struck me as being pretty relaxed about everything.</b><p></p><p>The gig took place at a loft space downtown called Ali’s Alley, drummer Rashid Ali’s club. There were tables, the place was fairly full and the band set up against the wall. My first reaction was that the music was loose, very loose. It almost sounded like a rehearsal in some ways although there was spirit in the soloing. It all seemed a bit odd and perhaps combined with the fact that I was finally sitting down everything seemed to hit me all at once and I began feeling very uncomfortable. The feeling built until I began to get worried that I wasn’t going to be OK. I needed to move, I needed not to be where I was but there was nowhere to go. I got up anyway, walked around the back and saw a curtain behind which was a small room. It looked like it may have been someone’s living space but no one was there so I laid down on the floor and curled up. The band continued playing for awhile and then took a break. I was still kind of freaked so I remained there hoping no one would come in and say anything. After about five minutes the curtain opens up and Jaki sticks his head in asking <span style="font-size: medium;">“Is this your room”? </span>I don’t know what I might have said but he was completely cool about it and left. That kind of jolted me back to getting my shit together and I got up and walked back out feeling a little better. This would seem to fit the description of a panic attack, something I knew nothing about. The saving grace was that relaxed, laissez faire attitude that everyone seemed to have. It was all cool, do what you need to do, nobody cared! <b> I think I let go of a lot that evening, for the better. </b></p><p>By the time I’d moved to NYC in 1983 Mel had left town and relocated to the Bay Area where he was originally from, having left the music business entirely I was to discover. Before the internet it was not so easy tracking folks down but by 1998 I managed to connect with Mel on a visit to the Bay Area for a gig I was doing with Andrea Parkins and Jim Black at New Langton Arts in San Fransisco. Mel came to the gig and we had a chance to chat a bit afterwards. Mel mentioned that certain things he heard us doing reminded him of what ZAH was doing back in the day. It wasn’t until 2010 that we met again, this time in NYC on a visit Mel made with his wife. I organized a session with bassist Ratzo Harris and drummer Tom Rainey, Mel’s bandmates in the Ted Curson band. They hadn’t seen each other since. It felt great to bring that experience full circle. Mel sounded wonderful.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVRug2l7Ww0KR-K3sLD6QsoJC2qf7tuL6Pob1bZPaa8YxTCmabOeFWS4AEuxrunETdJcrRoM-L60Ln2z5Xl2Q9UbvsNfFuoZVGN72m7H0lejhNWqXlgI1iXfAaFMVzlQkgbLkqRqX83TA/s818/ZAH+Cassette+Sleeve.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="718" data-original-width="818" height="176" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVRug2l7Ww0KR-K3sLD6QsoJC2qf7tuL6Pob1bZPaa8YxTCmabOeFWS4AEuxrunETdJcrRoM-L60Ln2z5Xl2Q9UbvsNfFuoZVGN72m7H0lejhNWqXlgI1iXfAaFMVzlQkgbLkqRqX83TA/w200-h176/ZAH+Cassette+Sleeve.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>We’ve continued to stay in touch and at numerous times along the years I’d remind Mel of that elusive music that he played me at his apartment in 1979. I really wanted to know who and what it was, I just knew it had never been released commercially. The mystery remained and I assumed I would never know. To my surprise I got a package in the mail some months later from Mel with several cassettes, one of which was the ZAH recording session. I didn’t know it at the time but it was his only copy. It was a thrill to receive this and while I was able to parse things out better than when I first heard it, it retained it’s unique sound. I was surprised that I had not heard of the other musicians. Mel didn’t know what had happened to them after he left NYC and I eventually filed the cassette along with the many other tapes I’ve amassed over the years, some number approaching four hundred, going back to 1974.<p></p><p><b>Some months ago I began the process of digitizing all of them. </b><a href="http://elleryeskelin.blogspot.com/2021/01/tape-is-rollingtake-one.html" target="_blank">I posted about that project here.</a> In coming across the ZAH tape I was struck all over again by the music. I still don’t know quite what to say about it. I brought this up to Mel and began pestering him all over again about the music and any recollections he might have from that time. At a certain point I asked “have you done any formal interviews in which this has all been laid out? If not, I think that should happen.” Mel replied “We were invited to do an interview on a well-known, at the time, NYC jazz radio station just before a gig back around 1981 or so. The other guys did the interview while I and my, at the time girlfriend, sorta walked around the studio. For some reason I didn’t want to participate. Otherwise I haven’t done any formal interviews about this, I’m not sure anyone cares really!” I told Mel, “I care! And I know there are many folks out there who also care about this music and it’s history.” And with that I realized I had just signed up for the job. I also wanted to get a better sounding copy of the recording since my cassette was not all that great and my transfer was questionable at best, it needed a professional job. I was already in the process of discarding tapes that had been transferred and catalogued when Mel said he didn’t think he had a copy any longer. My heart nearly stopped. Did I just throw away the last remaining copy of this music? </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiEW0Pc-hUH-IHeAgxjSAGBGBcofJbkQAblNaMWIjK8rgcRovcWXcl1bMylmtRfwemnLkPVjBRS53CuSyW8n14pc8ObgNmhqnnuv6wXsnKo1tjG24XWbh-olqLSDOVaXEuGgHi2YHL7qE/s2048/ZAHbrochure1.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiEW0Pc-hUH-IHeAgxjSAGBGBcofJbkQAblNaMWIjK8rgcRovcWXcl1bMylmtRfwemnLkPVjBRS53CuSyW8n14pc8ObgNmhqnnuv6wXsnKo1tjG24XWbh-olqLSDOVaXEuGgHi2YHL7qE/s320/ZAHbrochure1.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>At this point a search began in earnest. Mel managed to locate bassist Michael Willens. Turns out Michael left the city in 1996 and relocated to Cologne, Germany where he is the founder and director of <a href="https://koelnerakademie.de/" target="_blank">Die Kölner Akademie</a>, a period instrument orchestra and choir. Michael didn’t think he had a copy either but he did remember the name of the producer of the session, Chris Whent. Chris had produced many sessions for Polydor, was a lawyer and also hosted a music program on WBAI radio. I managed to get Chris on the phone and while he remembered the session he was pretty adamant that the tapes were lost when the studio went out of business in 1980. For reasons still unclear the session was never released. He mentioned the name of the studio as Downtown Sound and with that I was able to find the name of the studio owner, Hank O'Neal, and got him on the phone. Hank seemed to enjoy these kinds of calls and before long was regaling me with stories from back in the day. When the studio went out of business he put out a call to everyone who still had tapes stored there to come and get them. When the final day arrived there were still some tapes left behind and he wasn’t entirely sure what happened to them. They may have found their way to Williamsburg for storage but that lasted only a couple of years and after that the trail ends. The chances are slim we’ll ever locate them but it’s been good to follow this out and put at least part of this story to rest. At the same time, I was beginning to despair that this music would never see the light of day. So I made one more push with Mel and Michael to give another go at searching their archives. After a few days Michael got back to us and said “we’re in luck!”. He had located some files that he had once made of his copy of the recording and they sounded much better than what I had. I convinced Mel and Michael that this music deserved to be heard and offered to present it here on my blog. Engineer Jon Rosenberg did fantastic work in cleaning it up and both Mel and Michael were thrilled with the results. <p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDOd6V4trPxiF3u21DelBbWdC49JVAqPPf8_S_HEnOK2oxi1NplElScIWZdPOCKwTVDroAEMt1-dTWzpytUvGLsjYUwyzt6H52asQEBDywZVw7OBuEt6R3mEsej9M7PwjXv_9x7TAGH4w/s2048/ZAHbrochure2.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDOd6V4trPxiF3u21DelBbWdC49JVAqPPf8_S_HEnOK2oxi1NplElScIWZdPOCKwTVDroAEMt1-dTWzpytUvGLsjYUwyzt6H52asQEBDywZVw7OBuEt6R3mEsej9M7PwjXv_9x7TAGH4w/s320/ZAHbrochure2.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>My original intention was to simply interview Mel and post a transcript but he seemed to feel that Michael Willens would be best able to answer my questions about ZAH as he was more the impetus of the group’s formation. <span style="font-size: medium;">Michael’s first statement was “that whole period is kind of a blank for me at this point” </span>so I wasn’t sure we were going to get very far but as we proceeded things began to fall into place. <p></p><p>Michael described the group as being a synthesis as far as his playing experiences (which were quite varied) and his listening to groups like Circle (with Chick Corea and Anthony Braxton), Cecil Taylor, and Charlie Haden with Ornette Coleman. One of the distinguishing features of ZAH was it’s instrumentation. Percussionist Michael Levenson played an array of mallet instruments including vibraphone, marimba and glockenspiel as well as cymbals and various other instruments. On the recording he would often play in time on a cymbal with his right hand while playing chords on the vibes with his left. Additionally he employed a ring modulator on the vibraphone creating some other-worldly sonic effects. It often sounds like more than one person but the recording was done all live.</p><p><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgndFsl8a-zQnWKKa47eNez5_zmyHA5gg6zepHkm5FjuCH0VKasWSx57hsqcww9EiXQdKrPvx-nQI7-8yqYRNsMAj7Thu_sIpyFYNz6lU6LnZuC9_aUkiLXTWiRZA0e_uFfjInjorZS4Fk/s600/willens.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgndFsl8a-zQnWKKa47eNez5_zmyHA5gg6zepHkm5FjuCH0VKasWSx57hsqcww9EiXQdKrPvx-nQI7-8yqYRNsMAj7Thu_sIpyFYNz6lU6LnZuC9_aUkiLXTWiRZA0e_uFfjInjorZS4Fk/s320/willens.jpg" width="320" /></a></b></div><b>Michael Willens:</b> “We played a lot together, each of us contributed some music and we worked on these tunes, each of us had a concept of a piece and we would play it and play it and play it until it came together the way we felt it was saying what we wanted to say. The chemistry worked, like chamber music. It’s what everybody does, it’s not unusual but it brought us to a different space.” I pointed out that there was some screaming at a certain point on the recording. “It was very cathartic that particular track. The music still speaks today, it’s out of an era but it still has validity”. <p></p><p>The third member of ZAH, percussionist Michael Levenson, has proven to be the most elusive. As with bassist Michael Willens, Michael Levenson was involved in the contemporary classical music scene in NYC. This is an interesting aspect of the story given that in the ‘70s there was not yet the full confluence or exchange between musical traditions that we might take for granted as existing now. It seems that both Michael Willens (who graduated from Juilliard), and Michael Levenson (who graduated from Mannes School of Music) were fortunate in finding themselves at a musical nexus that has blossomed since then. Their work, along with Mel Ellison, foreshadowed much of what has come afterward. In any event, I could only trace Michael Levenson’s activities up until the early eighties and then he seemed to have dropped off the radar. There was one interesting citation appearing in the Village Voice written by Tom Johnson in 1972 as part of a larger review of performances taking place at The Kitchen when it was located at the Broadway Central Hotel.</p><p><i><b>October 19, 1972</b></i></p><p><i><b>Opening the Kitchen Season: Laurie Spiegel, Jim Burton, Judy Sherman, Garrett List</b></i></p><p><i>Michael Levenson’s “Coke on the Rocks” begins as a militant snare drum solo. Then he pours lighter fluid over a large, economy-size Coke bottle and sets it on fire. As the bottle burns, he returns to his snare drum and plays jazz riffs with brushes. His excellent drumming sustains the short piece well, and the simple stark image of the burning Coke bottle, in context with the drumming, makes an arresting statement.</i></p><p><i>Levenson’s other theatre piece, “Professor Throwback Presents”, conveys much less through much more. Wearing a gorilla mask, he burns classical sheet music, does a bad magic act, induces a member of the audience to suck her thumb, draws meaningless symbols, etc., etc. It is more or less impossible to relate the many events, and the piece as a whole is pretty confused.</i></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Both Mel and Michael had fond memories of their friend and his sometimes off the wall comments. </b></span> One time Mel suggested to the guys “maybe we should dress up like Art Ensemble and wear some kind of costumes”. <span style="font-size: medium;">Levenson fired back, “what are you gonna do, dress as a surfer?” </span> I was intrigued but prepared to think I’d never locate him as my searches were going nowhere. But then one evening a rather obvious clue came to mind that I had overlooked and shortly before my self-imposed deadline for this post we made contact. In an e-mail exchange he graciously answered a dozen questions, his brief but witty responses matching his bandmates recollections of his personality. And before I mislead anyone about the aforementioned anecdote, here is what he told me about his former bandmate: <span style="font-size: medium;"><b>“I had great respect for Mr. Ellison as a human being and as a jazz saxophone player.”</b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><u>A few other comments from Michael Levenson…</u></span></p><p><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicm-1xlEuINAHqt9kMyYcu0O60USQ3sp1bONtzJnI0fVLBuqLcE6ojZ8DxK0W83YTVK5YT15kVR85PGtFiI-nE8gey_aV5sx0dbsisYvZQ_SFEkpZRz2Ag90uHKAJCS4T_IVyjoLVBLPs/s952/ParkAvenueMothers.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="952" data-original-width="727" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicm-1xlEuINAHqt9kMyYcu0O60USQ3sp1bONtzJnI0fVLBuqLcE6ojZ8DxK0W83YTVK5YT15kVR85PGtFiI-nE8gey_aV5sx0dbsisYvZQ_SFEkpZRz2Ag90uHKAJCS4T_IVyjoLVBLPs/s320/ParkAvenueMothers.jpg" /></a></b></div><b>On his choice of ZAH as a band-name:</b><p></p><p><i>“ZAH comes from the dictionary although you will not find it in every dictionary. It is a prefix to other words and it is used as an intensifier.”</i></p><p><b>On his composition titles:</b></p><p><i>“‘What You Need to Hear’ is a lighthearted take on the voice of a father talking no nonsense to his child. ‘Christmas 1954’ is based upon a photograph taken at Christmas of me at age 3. ’10:30 on the 11th’ is a sardonic comment on the timelines of modern life. ‘Park Avenue Mothers’ derives from watching a beautiful, wealthy woman on upper Park Avenue walking her infant child in a baby stroller.”</i></p><p><b>On playing multiple instruments at the same time:</b></p><p><i>“I did play multiple and this was managed through very exact placement of the instruments, along with knowledge of my personal foibles.”</i></p><p><b>On his electronic effects:</b></p><p><i>“The modulator was an add-on accessory which plugged into the amplifier bar on the vibraphone. Vibraphone amplifiers were not widely used. They consisted of 2 long bars, each bar attaching to the horizontal support, front and back, which held the metal "keys" of the vibraphone, and were output to a small guitar amplifier.”</i></p><p><b>On being asked about his feelings on the music:</b></p><p><i>“The only thing I would say is that my intention was to demonstrate the stunning variety and depth that could be achieved with talented people utilizing minimal resources and available technology.”</i></p><p><b>On later activities:</b></p><p><i>“After emerging from graduate school in 1983 I left the music industry permanently.”</i></p><p><b>Anything else?</b></p><p><i>“You deserve a medal. Or at least a dry crust of bread.”</i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg7I5o78slf9R_NIZx4bAACSunBNHcFnTaCGLJi5qGWvs-Yoerr0l49Vh4BEofPY1phDQgHiTrUA3_QeUlgfe8O250sJM7tKF1TtsNTlNGINmNdkOFDxINJxuZjHKF_Ay0RcQomGL_jFI/s617/recent+Mel.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="617" data-original-width="617" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg7I5o78slf9R_NIZx4bAACSunBNHcFnTaCGLJi5qGWvs-Yoerr0l49Vh4BEofPY1phDQgHiTrUA3_QeUlgfe8O250sJM7tKF1TtsNTlNGINmNdkOFDxINJxuZjHKF_Ay0RcQomGL_jFI/s320/recent+Mel.jpg" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;">This all brings us back to Mel. </span> I've since spoken to a few other folks who knew Mel from that time and they all convey a deep respect for his artistry and dedication as well as an admiration for him as a person. Apparently Mel was considered the new young rebel in San Fransisco during the mid seventies and had already achieved legendary status in the circle of musicians who were aware of him. Tom Alexander (founder of <a href="http://www.superial.com/" target="_blank">Alexander Reeds International</a>) was a young saxophonist in the Bay Area at that time. When I told him I was working on this article he said “Fantastic that you're writing something about Mel, a true original, under-appreciated and brilliant. Man, Mel was baaaaad, we young saxophone players couldn't believe it, we never heard anyone play like him. He graciously took me under his wing and helped me immensely. He was such a great cat to learn from and not just about saxophone playing. I have never heard anybody then or later play with the same approach he used, it was quite unique from his tone to his execution to his ideas. A very spiritual cat and it came out in his playing and just talking with him.”<p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Two other musicians who knew Mel well were bassist Michael Formanek and drummer Tom Rainey. </span> Michael Formanek knew Mel from the Bay Area before moving to NYC himself in the summer of 1978. Mike was staying with saxophonist Dave Liebman when he contacted Mel by phone. Mel was living on Delancey street, at the foot of the Williamsburg bridge and helped Mike get his own apartment in the building. In telling Dave that he’d found his own place in that neighborhood Dave said “You’re going to have to get a gun!”. When Mike demurred on that idea Dave simply said “well then make sure you look mad whenever you’re going in and out of that place”. Mel later moved to midtown and Mike recalls many jam sessions there. “Mel straddled the line between open/free and tunes/structure, a magnificent change player and great free player. He played all the time when he wasn’t driving. Super peaceful, he would have an espresso and zone into the music, a kind of stream of consciousness. I always felt a strong inner drive, a bit of aggressive energy underneath but his demeanor was like breathing, not forced, naturally but with a strong edge to it.” When I asked Mike about Mel’s spiritual vibe Mike said Mel was like a Zen master in which it’s all very practical, no hero worship involved at all. Mike summed it up well by saying “it’s hard to put your finger on it because it’s real”, to which I concur.</p><p>I followed up with Tom Rainey on that theme and he agreed, remarking on the power and intensity of Mel’s playing, the likes of which Tom had never experienced before. “Mel was the first guy I really improvised with, we would just go! The feeling was so strong. Twice in my life I’ve had the experience of levitating when playing. Once with Mel and once with guitarist Bill DeArango. I felt I was literally lifted off the ground while sitting at the drums.“ Tom lived for a time in Long Island City and organized regular sessions with a group including Mel, bassist Ratzo Harris, guitarist Bill Frisell and flutist Norma LaTuchie “The sessions served as a release and became almost theatrical at times. The feeling was that there were no gigs, there was no dream of a gig.” </p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Asking Mel questions over the years has been interesting. </span>He would say things like “Music was more therapy for me if anything. I always felt like there had to be an area in one's life that was untouched by the forces of the market place, so to speak, something that is done just for the sheer fun of it. In my case it was my music. I often felt compelled to make it work economically and it never seemed to happen, the quality suffered and I wasn't enjoying it.”</p><p>His brevity belies a deeper, unspoken understanding of things and maybe that’s part of why I’ve continued to press him on certain points. I should say he has always been open and done his best to accommodate me. <b>I recently asked Mel about his influences. </b></p><p>“As far as how I arrived at my approach it’s a little harder to put into words. When I won a scholarship from Downbeat Magazine to Berklee School of Music in 1965 I, like many other white boys, just wanted to play bebop. I eventually got sick of it and quit music for a time. When I picked my horn up again around 1969-ish I had been reading J. Krishnamurti extensively and meditating a lot. I decided to play only what sounded good to me, and instead of fighting the horn to overcome it I tried to let the sax tell me what works best. I explored and pushed the limits more and more, always playing rhythmically and only what really sounded good to ME and what seemed to lay well on the horn. Instead of approaching the sax as a problem to overcome it became my friend and collaborator, we worked together. There is more to it, especially when I decided to quit again and why. I will say it’s the same approach I now take with the piano and I’m loving it!”</p><p>That’s a great answer but I was intrigued by something Tom Rainey told me about a conversation many years ago with Mel about John Coltrane. Tom was surprised when Mel said “Everybody talks about Coltrane but I think Sonny Rollins is the cat”. I asked Mel about this and he confirmed saying <span style="font-size: large;">“God, I love Sonny Rollins! </span><span style="font-size: medium;"> Coltrane was a singular voice but when Sonny plays it’s a history of everything that’s ever been done on a saxophone”. </span></p><p><b>On leaving the music business:</b></p><p>“Funny, that whole period of time is frozen in my memory, like those photos. I completely turned my back on it and went another way as you know. The reasons were complex and not fully understood by me at the time, if even now. There was an inevitability to it, a sort of a death if you will. In a nutshell, I wanted to see if I could 'be' without being ‘Mel the jazz sax player’, or ‘Mel the anything else’ for that matter. It was, and is, a very humbling yet edifying experience. I've been fortunate to have met some wonderful people (and some not so wonderful people) along the way. People who I would not have met nor would have learned so much from had I continued the way I was going. I still have to wonder sometimes what might have been. I think I was a lot closer to breaking through than I thought at the time. Thomas Edison is quoted as saying: ‘Most people who are failures in life have no idea how close they came to success’. In one perspective I was a failure: I didn't live up to my musical potential. But ultimately, the universe will be the judge of that. One of my early saxophone heroes, Flip Philips, said once: ‘When it stops being fun, I'll quit’. That always stuck with me. I loved the playing and the exploring part of the music. It was the political, social and cultural part that I found difficult, nor was I very good at it even if I wanted to be.“</p><p>Tom Rainey has spoken to me of Mel’s <b>“calm containment” </b>from which emerged a <b>“laser focus”</b>. We both felt this quality to be similar to John Coltrane and Mel has certainly absorbed much of Coltrane’s approach. But Mel doesn’t sound like Coltrane, he sounds like Mel. <span style="font-size: medium;"> And so I finally asked Mel point-blank about intensity. </span></p><p>“It comes from confidence. I don’t care if people like it or not, I play what sounds good to me. It’s a feeling that I’m good, I can do this. Not in an ego way, trying to put something over, just, I got this. I mean it and that’s all there is to it.” I hadn’t heard Mel speak this way before and so we continued in this vein on intensity until he offered “I think it emerges out of deep, dark sadness. It’s a sad world although we try to be happy. A saxophone is your heart and soul, a voice.” Relating back to influences he cited Charlie Parker. “His tone went right to my heart, there was a sadness and a poignancy.”</p><p>That resonates quite strongly with me and I think it’s something all musicians feel even as it’s addressed in countless different ways. Perhaps one of the most concise ways of putting all of this came from Kathryn King who was acting as the PR representative for ZAH in 1979. She has been active in the music business ever since, creating her own company, <a href="https://www.kathrynkingmedia.com/" target="_blank">Kathryn King Media</a>. Upon reaching her by phone she said “You could have knocked me over with a feather when I received your e-mail!” She also recalled a number of details that were missing including the fact that the album was to be titled after one of it’s tunes, “10:30 on the 11th”. But it was this comment that I think says it best:</p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "Mel was a man of few words but what came out of his horn was an explosion of feeling.”</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><b>post script: </b></p><p>I want to express my deep appreciation to Mel Ellison, Michael Willens and Michael Levenson for their music and for allowing me to tell something of it’s story. <b>Thank you gentlemen. </b></p><p>Since his departure from the music scene Mel has followed a passion for sailing and photography. You can get a sense of his many seafaring journeys on his website, <a href="https://melellisonphotography.com/" target="_blank">Mel Ellison Photography</a>.</p><p><b>Listen:</b></p><p>This is the music of ZAH. We’ve done our best to restore what was an old analogue recording that was digitized at an unknown time under less than certain circumstances, now given a twenty-first century digital clean up. Some of the musical electronic effects used during the original recording may not strike your ears with the same kind of pristine sound we’re used to today but it’s not at all difficult to immerse yourself and surrender to the sounds. With a good set of speakers and about forty minutes of uninterrupted time this music will do wonders for one’s soul. </p><p><br /></p>
<iframe allow="autoplay" frameborder="no" height="600" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/playlists/1232767903&color=%23ff5500&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&show_teaser=true&visual=true" width="100%"></iframe><div style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Interstate, "Lucida Grande", "Lucida Sans Unicode", "Lucida Sans", Garuda, Verdana, Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10px; font-weight: 100; line-break: anywhere; overflow: hidden; text-overflow: ellipsis; white-space: nowrap; word-break: normal;"><a href="https://soundcloud.com/ramichellery" style="color: #cccccc; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="Ellery Eskelin">Ellery Eskelin</a> · <a href="https://soundcloud.com/ramichellery/sets/10-30-on-the-eleventh-zah" style="color: #cccccc; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="10:30 on the Eleventh / ZAH">10:30 on the Eleventh / ZAH</a></div><div style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Interstate, "Lucida Grande", "Lucida Sans Unicode", "Lucida Sans", Garuda, Verdana, Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10px; font-weight: 100; line-break: anywhere; overflow: hidden; text-overflow: ellipsis; white-space: nowrap; word-break: normal;"><br /></div><div style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Interstate, "Lucida Grande", "Lucida Sans Unicode", "Lucida Sans", Garuda, Verdana, Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10px; font-weight: 100; line-break: anywhere; overflow: hidden; text-overflow: ellipsis; white-space: nowrap; word-break: normal;"><br /></div><div style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Interstate, "Lucida Grande", "Lucida Sans Unicode", "Lucida Sans", Garuda, Verdana, Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10px; font-weight: 100; line-break: anywhere; overflow: hidden; text-overflow: ellipsis; white-space: nowrap; word-break: normal;"><br /></div><div style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Interstate, "Lucida Grande", "Lucida Sans Unicode", "Lucida Sans", Garuda, Verdana, Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10px; font-weight: 100; line-break: anywhere; overflow: hidden; text-overflow: ellipsis; white-space: nowrap; word-break: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; white-space: normal;"> </span></div><div style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Interstate, "Lucida Grande", "Lucida Sans Unicode", "Lucida Sans", Garuda, Verdana, Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10px; font-weight: 100; line-break: anywhere; overflow: hidden; text-overflow: ellipsis; white-space: nowrap; word-break: normal;"><br /></div>Ellery Eskelinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17754806219906266323noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507365900573255257.post-86392741346225465182021-01-31T22:14:00.007-05:002021-02-02T10:45:25.655-05:00 On the matter of Criticism<p><span style="font-size: medium;">Occasionally, either by collision or perhaps in the act of navel gazing, </span><b>I’ve endeavored to resolve my feelings around criticism,</b> something every artist faces and something that no one likes. It never works, the best I could ever come up with was that critics should offer insight over opinion. Sounds good sort of, but mostly I don’t like to think about it so I write it off as unimportant. But that doesn’t work either so it sits there unresolved, perhaps to be grappled with another day. <span style="white-space: pre;"> </span></p><p>This week I’ve had occasion to appreciate that there may be some good in criticism after all and I’m tempted again to ask, what if this tension could be resolved? I’m reminded of what a friend of mine would say in this situation, “if you ever thought that you came to the end of that road it might be time to check your pulse, you may be dead”. At this point, after having deceived myself numerous times in the past I’m starting to feel that this kind of tension is simply built into life. Perhaps what is required is to resolve oneself within that tension, to cease externalizing it. Something does want to be resolved, to be at rest. But not dead. </p><p><b>Last week we had a family conversation about reading habits. </b> My son and I started by discussing what constitutes a polemic, a form of writing with a long history that has taken on renewed energy, morphed into 280 character twitter-bursts and burned into our daily cyber-consciousness. By the way, there is no way this does not affect our collective mental health. In recent weeks there has emerged the clearest evidence yet of some of the worst effects, a mutating internet cult making it’s way into political life. I have to think of it as a form of brainwashing made all the more effective by technology. But I digress.<br /></p><p>My wife is an enthusiastic reader, very open to entering literary terrain. I’m inspired by her because I’m the opposite, sorry to say. Somewhere along the line I became aware that there is a tacit world view or set of assumptions in anything anyone writes. There is always a degree of self interest that would seem to infect what may otherwise be a sincere reach towards some kind of truth. Attention to this fact on the part of the reader (me) often requires arduous work to counter the threat. Sounds paranoid, right? “Infect” and “threat” are exaggerations but it’s difficult to articulate the more subtle and hidden operations that take place under the surface when reading. I asked the question “is it possible to read something without having any personal vested interest in what is being read”? My wife immediately responded in the affirmative saying that fiction takes her somewhere, she is open to learning about another person, other people, other cultures. This set the stage for a good conversation that has been resonating since then. </p><p><span style="white-space: pre;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXgeYWyAK1sKGIvoYFR0gJJhiBLo5hSsv_CxN6iRbuDYWeBA72k_9OS3GCMKFGCy8hpca-bffeONFY0A0l-Q0xmmbnzFLqMJlEUy68N1lYklvW_hfshUYf4sm4i7AJesFclxnzDnJKEBA/s660/RossWagnerism.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="660" data-original-width="660" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXgeYWyAK1sKGIvoYFR0gJJhiBLo5hSsv_CxN6iRbuDYWeBA72k_9OS3GCMKFGCy8hpca-bffeONFY0A0l-Q0xmmbnzFLqMJlEUy68N1lYklvW_hfshUYf4sm4i7AJesFclxnzDnJKEBA/w200-h200/RossWagnerism.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>I’m pretty deficient in the amount of literature I’ve read. What I do enjoy reading are essays, interviews and news. <span style="font-size: medium;">This morning I read an <a href="https://ethaniverson.com/interview-with-alex-ross/" target="_blank">interview between jazz pianist Ethan Iverson and classical music critic Alex Ross</a> (of the New Yorker). </span>I wasn’t sure I was going to enjoy it, at first glance it seemed to be potentially dry, involving a somewhat detailed exploration of the academic tradition of criticism and classical music. But I have enjoyed the writing of Alex Ross (whom I cited in a previous post on <a href="http://elleryeskelin.blogspot.com/2020/09/passion-and-etymology.html" target="_blank">Passion and Etymology</a>) and decided to go for it. I’m very glad I did. After pushing my way in, the interview gradually became more personal and alive. By the end Alex Ross wound up fleshing out this tradition (by way of his recent book “Wagnerism: Art and Politics in the Shadow of Music”) by illuminating connections between music, art and literature that I never fully appreciated, with Wagner being central and vastly more influential than I’d realized. An investigation of Wagner is also problematic but you can read the interview for a better analysis than I can provide. In the final few exchanges Alex Ross offered some surprising connections from the late nineteenth century to aspects of popular American culture today. Most importantly I am appreciating that the role of criticism has been an integral part of the western tradition, not just on the part of critics but on the part of composers, writers and artists, as evidenced from their correspondence with each other and even in the way they may teach. To know literature and academic study is to know something about criticism. I had been vaguely aware of this phenomenon and to be honest I never liked it, it seems contrary to the process of making art. I recall years ago reading a book (I wish I could recall the title) which was a series of articles or interviews with contemporary composers in which they all trashed each other. It really turned me off of the idea of criticism and I dismissed the whole thing entirely. But perhaps I was not being quite honest with myself. <p></p><p>Reading the Alex Ross interview put a light on my skepticism and intimidation around academic tradition while at the same time eliciting an undeniable attraction to it. Critical thinking, while being essential to our survival and to our sense of meaning is also an essential skill for any artist in being able to gain a perspective (a form of distance) on their own work. But in artistic practice (the creative act) it is often very limiting, distance being a liability. I emphasize instead the virtues of intuition and direct experience. Above all I’m an improvisor, but hopefully not a dumb one. It’s easy to romanticize a degree of willful ignorance in the name of authenticity. And it is equally easy to throw stones at the citadel but I still very much want to know what’s in there. <br /></p><p>Many years ago when I was still rather new on the scene I did a radio interview here in NYC. Afterwards the DJ and I rode the subway together and chatted more about music, he also being a jazz critic and a sharp scholar of the music. At one point I expressed my enthusiasm for Albert Ayler only to be told in no uncertain terms that Albert Ayler was “not part of the canon”, which floored me. It had never even occurred to me that there was such a thing as a jazz canon (I was pretty naive) but I immediately knew I wanted no part of it. It sounded too much like gatekeeping and exclusion by folks who were not musicians. <br /></p><p><b>What was most impressive about Alex Ross </b>was that he was actually embodying the academic and critical path, coming to terms with it’s complexities and contradictions by coming to terms with himself in it. In other words, it was personal and that is compelling. I’m in no way drawn to that path myself but I begin to understand something of my attraction to it. <span style="font-size: medium;">Still, it seems unavoidable that there is a conflict and an adversarial process at work, but what is it and where does it operate?</span></p><p>We all have a critical inner voice that we live with every day. Reading news seems a good way to feed that critical voice but without some discipline and discernment there is risk of creating distress and outrage. Who wants to live with that? That’s just painful and whether you direct that distress outwards or inwards, either way it is you who will feel it. This is not always easy to stop once it gets rolling and may require an antidote, deliberately practicing gratitude for example. At the same time we can ask ourselves if our habitualized negative assumptions are true. Critical thinking actually works well when it examines itself rather than feeding on itself. You don't have to be an academic to do this.<br /></p><p>I come from a working class background and was raised to an ideal that it didn't matter what you did in life as long as you did it the best you can. If you were a ditch digger, be the best ditch digger you can be. That gave me the sense that it was possible to attain the fullness of one’s potential using just what you have. A good education is important, no doubt, and the world is often unjust. My parents instilled positive values and I was told to stay in school. I was fortunate in that way.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWhxfJ0REW_tjC-ANQ3fO22UgUzpytQcXbPuM1sq_WyyMQORbuz7x1eeGFXYrkwx8SGtK57fam_I61bkqR212p0WermOGPTDjTjIJDH7o5I3FZ4nyPw4nGAbJALgrzbGJ1xT6COCHOOtQ/s564/The+First+Book+of+Jazz+by+Langston+Hughes.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="333" data-original-width="564" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWhxfJ0REW_tjC-ANQ3fO22UgUzpytQcXbPuM1sq_WyyMQORbuz7x1eeGFXYrkwx8SGtK57fam_I61bkqR212p0WermOGPTDjTjIJDH7o5I3FZ4nyPw4nGAbJALgrzbGJ1xT6COCHOOtQ/s320/The+First+Book+of+Jazz+by+Langston+Hughes.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><b>I followed up the Alex Ross interview with another set of articles that I had also put aside for later reading. </b><span style="font-size: medium;">The New York Times recently published an article titled <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2020/06/26/books/when-james-baldwin-and-langston-hughes-reviewed-each-other.html" target="_blank">“When James Baldwin and Langston Hughes Reviewed Each Other”</a> </span> It recounts the discovery of a pair of overlooked reviews in the archives by Langston Hughes and James Baldwin from 1959. I found them to be revealing. If you subscribe to the Times you can access the original articles on their <a href="http://timesmachine.nytimes.com" target="_blank">Times Machine</a>. <br /><p></p><p>Coincidentally, one of the first books I remember loving was a children’s book by Langston Hughes called “The First Book of Jazz”, published in 1955. He engendered a sense of respect and dignity for the music and it’s culture by not speaking down to his reader. He was able to tap into a child’s natural creative ability to grasp how the music sometimes expresses sadness and other times happiness and yet it is the same music. I still have this book.<br /></p><p><b>Langston Hughes</b> began his review of Baldwin by saying, <span style="font-size: medium;">“I think that one definition of the great artist might be the creator who projects the biggest dream in terms of the least person”</span>, reaching millions with something they can understand. He goes on to praise aspects of James Baldwin’s writing while detecting a quality of irresolution as needing to be resolved in order to qualify as great art. <br /></p><p><b>James Baldwin</b> seems to endorse this irresolution or is at least willing to nearly sacrifice himself explicitly in addressing it. That is my feeling having read some of his work, his pain is laid bare. In his review of Hughes he speaks of a war between “social and artistic responsibilities” that are “all but irreconcilable.” He’s speaking of Langston Hughes but also more broadly as well, perhaps including himself, I’m not sure. But it may not be the indictment that it first appears to be. Baldwin says <span style="font-size: medium;">“the poetic trick, so to speak, is to be within the experience and outside it at the same time…”</span>.</p><p><span style="white-space: pre;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDeKaeV6fU2J1oozTrrmm_GDGug2THz86l-yXfr7F2081-fn_rz5o7jFD11lWNXMnew4WgftY0tQ66BddjlxWZ4V5JskT4jDjsC3vKdSbVt1iouhdkPRKgLzMQCtb1z3RJPaRvRvnAFro/s504/NYTimes.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="468" data-original-width="504" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDeKaeV6fU2J1oozTrrmm_GDGug2THz86l-yXfr7F2081-fn_rz5o7jFD11lWNXMnew4WgftY0tQ66BddjlxWZ4V5JskT4jDjsC3vKdSbVt1iouhdkPRKgLzMQCtb1z3RJPaRvRvnAFro/s320/NYTimes.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><b>What impressed me greatly</b> was the fact that the pieces were rigorous but not adversarial or destructive. There is empathy, each man seems to sincerely wish for the other to succeed and yet each are unafraid to put themselves on the line. It is a form of strength and vulnerability tied together. Their topic is racism and they are speaking in deeply humanitarian tones. The conflict, between artistic aims and with respect to the artist’s relationship to society, while handled differently by each, is not being externalized, rather it is lived. The essays are specific to their experiences and the writers are acutely aware of the cultural dynamic that threatens to co-opt their language, style and more. At the same time, I feel that they are by necessity speaking to everyone. <br /><p></p><p>Personally, writing about this feels fraught but it also feels like a responsibility. I was born the same year these words were written. The words do not belong to me and yet externalizing them puts the truth at a remove, just out of reach. But perhaps it’s not as difficult as it first seems. There are clearly differences between each writer, as well as differences between them and me, which need to be honored. To honor these differences requires honoring our shared humanity, and to honor our shared humanity requires honoring every difference seen and felt in this life. </p><p><b>The idea of “great art”</b> has taken somewhat of a beating in intellectual circles since those articles were written. I don’t know that I fully endorse the concept myself, it seems an interference to the artistic process as well as in fully understanding ourselves. But that’s not the problem of art, it’s the problem of how we deal with it, ourselves and each other. I don’t wish to play games of avoidance either, I’m perfectly willing to give it up when I encounter deep truths in art and I deeply respect the dedication that is required to achieve that. But as an artist I can’t really concern myself too much with it, in a way it’s none of my business. </p><p>I still don’t know what the role of criticism is, especially now when so much discourse is incendiary. And I’m still unsure of my relationship to fiction. I was heartened however when my wife pointed out that there are a much wider range of voices in the literature that is available today as compared to thirty years ago. In addition to new writers there are also newly unearthed revelations of historical voices from outside the western canon. Perhaps it’s time to catch up a bit.</p><p><b>Still, I’ve not resolved anything, but that would seem to be exactly the point.</b> Sometimes I really do worry that the pace of current events have overtaken culture. But I am encouraged by what James Baldwin said about being inside the experience and outside at the same time. And the ability and example of Langston Hughes to find a way to include everyone. </p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I am not outside of either one of those investigations, nor can they be done alone. To embrace this contradiction (which is itself a contradiction to be embraced) is to accept who we are. </span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Ellery Eskelinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17754806219906266323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507365900573255257.post-22799961616840495832021-01-08T23:41:00.003-05:002021-01-29T11:11:58.486-05:00 Tape is rolling…take one…<p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b></b></span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_lhqjqrFKBg2igz8ORaXRKzCpBl5p8boZaoL55M1y4WSKvNYzrcAyRxQbHNWWARP9cij-7hlcJuGZght1AD-9wv6z8aiRa0l0ZEjpRkiVjdDrcCj7YgtEzpccuxy4VCbWiGh_I0aSe0g/s2048/cassettes.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1530" data-original-width="2048" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_lhqjqrFKBg2igz8ORaXRKzCpBl5p8boZaoL55M1y4WSKvNYzrcAyRxQbHNWWARP9cij-7hlcJuGZght1AD-9wv6z8aiRa0l0ZEjpRkiVjdDrcCj7YgtEzpccuxy4VCbWiGh_I0aSe0g/w640-h478/cassettes.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>The cassette tape.</b> A technology from the 70s.</span> One in a long line of sound carriers with it’s own admirable and idiosyncratic qualities. My parents gave me a portable radio and cassette recorder for my 16th birthday. One of the things you could do with it was record the radio broadcast right onto the tape. At the time, that was very new and very cool. I tuned in that evening to WBJC, a local Baltimore station that hosted a show called “Helen’s Explorations in Jazz”. I wish I knew who Helen was, her delivery was quintessentially 1970s. <a href="https://soundcloud.com/ramichellery/wbjc-helens-explorations-in-jazz-intro" target="_blank">“Vibrations beautiful people”</a> was how she opened the proceedings. She began with Charles Mingus’ “Prayer for Passive Resistance” including a gut wrenching sermon on tenor saxophone from Yusef Lateef. I recorded the entire program. I still have this tape and every time I’ve listened to it it’s as if I’m transported right back to that night, enraptured with music that spoke to me simultaneously of the past, present and future. <p></p><p><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEV6gmb_4kQWQ2TJddoD7BJYaTRh879mrdBRH0Rs8-DLtfhtwikXz4mk6bPFy_p5TqZ4R3pWkApGaOEeEr_0en3xz2IqVTMGLdpHKPC1ui9bVDINv8LF_hObaD_DrHS9_Q253MmqGyWxI/s2048/Helen+Jazz.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1327" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEV6gmb_4kQWQ2TJddoD7BJYaTRh879mrdBRH0Rs8-DLtfhtwikXz4mk6bPFy_p5TqZ4R3pWkApGaOEeEr_0en3xz2IqVTMGLdpHKPC1ui9bVDINv8LF_hObaD_DrHS9_Q253MmqGyWxI/s320/Helen+Jazz.jpg" width="320" /></a></b></div><b>I have other tapes as well. </b> Hundreds actually. Tapes of myself practicing the saxophone. Tapes of jam sessions with friends. Tapes of rehearsals, recitals and gigs. And somehow miraculously, they’ve made it this far. They are not well organized or labeled and I’ve been tempted to part with them many times knowing that they are slowly disintegrating the longer they sit on the shelf. But I have some kind of archivist bug that won’t allow me to do that. Or maybe the whole thing is simply a matter of obsessiveness meets housecleaning. In either event I’ve decided to face reality and have taken up the charge to digitize each one. It’s a weird psychological journey to take, being suddenly confronted with some long lost episode from the past. The first few weeks were all day and night affairs just getting things set up and trying to find a flow, dealing with glitches and sudden problems. That and questioning my sanity several times each day. More than once I almost bailed, just wanting to heave the whole lot out the door. <p></p><p>And in the end I really don’t know how much will be worth saving. Even less will be worth sharing, we’ll see. Some have great sentimental value, such as the recordings of my mother and I from 1974 playing tunes together like “Just in Time”, “Take the A Train” and “Here’s that Rainy Day”. There is one of us playing “Night Train” (my favorite tune at the time) with the drummer and trumpet player from the band she had in Baltimore that worked in the early sixties. Her organ playing had immense drive. My wife heard me playing this recording from the other room and asked what it was. What she could hear of it sounded good to her, she thought it might have been some early jazz. That made me feel good but I told her that in spite of that I would never share it due to my embarrassment over my playing at the time. Incredulous, she pointed out, “you were fourteen, people will understand that.” “Embarrassment doesn’t have any rules”, I replied. “So you’re still fourteen then?” “Yes, and I don’t sound any better now than I did then!”. That was my closing remark on the subject. I don’t know what’s more embarrassing, my playing, my reaction to it or writing about it. Things did get a little better though. Of potential interest to jazz fans might be some of the sessions from The Closet in Baltimore, mid-eighties, where I played with the late saxophonist Arnold Sterling and another with fellow saxophonist Gary Thomas. Whether any of this ever gets shared it will at least have to wait until everything is loaded into the computer and I can begin the process of cleaning up the sound which in the case of the earliest tapes is rather rough. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKmVoCTCbul4NmStUlCfxl5PSOJCgKMytCFQnPLZRc6eEWPo_0040twEUw1GbC4rxAalBJPLRJivGsAnnYnYywTMB409MtQ2TXCkO_7KKJ1BOvIk-DPxKmXULGWWVfBEO4XVVyz2pKDVo/s1972/SBasil.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="863" data-original-width="1972" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKmVoCTCbul4NmStUlCfxl5PSOJCgKMytCFQnPLZRc6eEWPo_0040twEUw1GbC4rxAalBJPLRJivGsAnnYnYywTMB409MtQ2TXCkO_7KKJ1BOvIk-DPxKmXULGWWVfBEO4XVVyz2pKDVo/s320/SBasil.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>A friend asked me if at the time I ever had any intention of using these tapes for anything or were they just for posterity. Neither actually. It was all done pretty casually just to listen to in the short term, as a means of assessment. I recall a gig I did at Sweet Basil here in NYC (a club long since gone) with trumpeter Terumasa Hino’s band in ’84 or ’85. Larry Willis was on piano, Ron McClure on bass and Billy Hart on drums. Ron had a small tape recorder with him on stage recording the gig and during the break was playing it for the other guys trying to nail down something about a tempo. At one point he says “the tape doesn’t lie!” I remember thinking, actually it does lie, that’s exactly what it does. It’s an approximation at best, especially when it’s some hand-held deal, recording from the floor of the stage. <p></p><p>Now that this recording technology, sketchy as it was, was available to musicians it seemed to accelerate a certain process of idealization. This went along with commercial recordings, radio and even PA systems in which the ideal of good sound changed from what was possible and natural acoustically to what was achievable through electronic means. I recall a gig that saxophonist Jan Garbarek did at Fat Tuesday’s with bassist Eberhard Weber in a quartet. What was amazing was that the sound coming from the PA system in this small club sounded exactly like their records on ECM, huge and expansive with that trademark reverb that ECM is associated with. It was the first time I had encountered that and I was very impressed. Having experienced everything that has transpired since then, I’m no longer so sure. No fault of theirs, it’s simply the fact that the way we think of sound has changed and something always gets lost in such a process. Incidentally I have a cassette in my collection of Jan Garbarek playing at Blues Alley in Washington DC from 1981. Guitarist Bill Frisell was in the band. I don’t think anyone had heard of Bill yet, certainly not my roommate and fellow saxophonist from Baltimore, Tom McCormick, who attended the show. I remember him telling me about it when he got back. We loved Jan Garbarek but Tom was equally enthused and effusive about “this guitar player, he didn’t play a single lick all night!” I was trying to imagine what that would even have sounded like. It was intriguing the way he said it and I think it actually had a formative effect on me even though I wasn’t at the concert. It’s just as intriguing to realize that before recordings were widespread this word of mouth description of music and events must have played a much larger role in the development of the music. It’s as if your imagination kicks in and the sky’s the limit. Once we actually hear someone we tend to classify and qualify right away, even if we like it. Ironically, while the role of recordings has been integral to the development of the music they can also be limiting. However, Tom knew the sound person at Blues Alley and got a cassette of that gig directly from the sound board, and it sounds great! I was probably supposed to give it back to Tom, maybe it’s not too late.</p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Fast forward (no pun intended) to today </b></span>when owning or handling physical media of any kind has almost become an oddity. But more than ever we still have this technologically induced set of sonic ideals. The received wisdom I got from listeners back in the day was that “live” was always better, that recordings were never as good as being there. They are certainly different experiences, that is for sure. But I was also a bit uneasy about that declaration of superiority. Certainly recordings do not replace live performance but they are their own mode of expression with enough differences to make the comparison a bit misleading. I’ve greatly enjoyed making recordings over these many years as well as my experiences playing live. But those live experiences have also changed due to technology and not in every case for the better. Playing music without a PA system, without recording or video streaming is very rare and increasingly difficult to do. It should be the easiest thing in the world, just show up and play but “live” is not so live anymore. I’ve spoken about this at length and often wish that I could find something better to talk about. It remains an unresolved and important aspect of how we go forward but in the past year that has all become moot. The act of making music for one another in person has also become a rarity.</p><p>I’ve not done any live streaming during this time and have preferred instead to avoid as much as possible the simulation of personal interaction on line. This blog and my e-mail correspondence are about it. It feels good but I’ll have to make some decisions when things begin to open back up again. I’m curious to see how folks will readjust to being together. I know I don’t want to do things the same way I was doing them before but the social environment will certainly be a determining factor. Streaming and interactive video don’t speak to me as a social medium let alone an artistic one. Recordings I understand, I’ve always regarded them as documentation of a process born out of live performance and I think that’s as far as it goes for me. I expect that coming out of this period artists and venues will begin to see these new technologies as a new normal, if we haven’t already. I am hopeful that there may be others like me who are moved by interactions that do not require electricity, speakers and screens. After a year without having played a single concert I’m beginning to understand a bit better what patience requires and what it may mean to create the conditions that invite the kind of experience I’m speaking about. I’ve been quite content with playing the horn at home every day and feeling in no rush whatsoever to “make things happen”. Lest I mislead anyone, there is no lack of inspiration or motivation in this and it all feels quite natural at this stage. </p><p>I’ve also been thinking about the commitment that comes with being together in person. I don’t know if I ever thought so consciously about it before but what it really amounts to is our willingness and need to take care of each other, something we might only think about in an emergency. But beyond that, if someone is hungry you offer them something to eat. If someone is lonely you spend some time with them. If someone wants to talk, you listen. Even the smallest things, such as a passing smile are truly a matter of life and death. It’s our time, which we measure by a physical lifespan. Spending time with someone is your very own life. This is also how I hear music. </p><p>I’ve spoken often about embodiment and have recently posted about <a href="http://elleryeskelin.blogspot.com/2020/08/late-august-2020-nyc.html" target="_blank">meaning in music</a>. They are one and the same to my mind. This embodiment is profound and yet simple, involving the simplest of means, the simplest of movements. In talking about musical ideas we might understand that there is a physical basis for every idea we have. Our bodies being the model of thought, this physicality is embedded in language, manifest in everything we do, make and see. The sounds and movements we see and make are primary, the basis for everything in our world, our experience. The fact that they can be arranged according to the imagination is fantastic. And of course we have many forms of mediation, many ways in which to convey, amplify and disseminate our ideas.</p><p><b>Having said all of this</b> I am well aware of the fact that artistic expression has found some measure of vitality in digital form even as I find my spirit largely moving the other way. So I’m happy to share something with you that ideally might have happened in person but instead came about as a result of necessary physical distancing. A few months ago dancer clyde fusei forth did a live streamed presentation as part of Zen Mountain Monastery’s 40th year anniversary using some music that I had written. We had spoken some years back about a possible collaboration and this seemed like a potential first step towards making that happen one day. She chose two short pieces from <a href="https://open.spotify.com/album/2ewIwG71yarewjDEpEenIu" target="_blank">“Non Sequiturs”</a> a suite I wrote in 2011 as a commission from Chamber Music America. These pieces are very sparse and allow a great deal of space in which to work. Later on she made a video version for me and I asked her if I could share it on the blog. In seeing what she’s done I begin to wonder where the boundaries are between sound and movement. I don’t think there are any. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="324" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/BmT88dUf_R0" width="539" youtube-src-id="BmT88dUf_R0"></iframe></div><br /><p><b>I've asked clyde to write something about the project. </b> These are her words, which I find to be as palpable as her dance...</p><p><b>Main North and Vertical Prose (or Enter Before Ready)<br /></b><b>a project with Ellery Eskelin<br /></b><b>October and December, 2020</b></p><p>At this distance<br />between signals and pixels,<br />Within bandwidth of variable strength<br />and dependability,<br />While yearning for that sweet living vibration<br />we may not hear until summer</p><p>Enter before ready.</p><p>I have listened to this music<br />Just enough to forget it<br />until this moment<br />So it arrives new as I arrive</p><p>to my self, one tiny awareness at a time<br />Awarenesses like microscopic birds accumulating within<br />my hollow form, whatever form enters I accept<br />Until I am fully present with all the things:<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>sounds<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>floor<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>light<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>sensations<br />Then I let the flock move me.<br />I move the flock, moving<br />beside and within and at a distance<br />from the music also entering and arriving<br />and moving.</p><p>Enter before ready.<br />Every moment an opportunity to trust<br />that the moment will survive my entrance<br />and whatever comes after. </p><p>In practice, what I did was enter into the work before any sense of preparation had set in. No time to feel confident or unconfident or have even a definitive pathway in mind. No time to try and hook up with the music. I did not know which part of the floor I headed for or what I would do there. I only entered and saw my entering one moment at a time until the entrance was complete. Then I arrived. The way I practice arrival these days is to close my eyes and feel the shape of my form in as much detail as possible. I visualize the shape of my form as hollow then see it filling with the accumulation of sensations and awarenesses that may take the shape of cells, or birds, or waves of light, etc. I never really know. I accept whatever comes but often it is crows. Go figure. Sometimes this takes a longer time, sometimes very quick. Doesn’t matter. I let myself arrive in this way until I experience my form completely full of the accumulated awarenesses moving in unison. Sometimes the flock moves the form, sometimes the form moves the flock. Sometimes the music and I enter and arrive simultaneously, sometimes not. Sometimes it’s too porous to separate one from the other. But every movement I enact as a body-form visible to a viewer I am experiencing as an internal flock in unison. This naturally breaks down and comes back, like a murmuration of starlings, somewhat leaderless. The image itself usually gives way to a physical experience within a few minutes, but when it’s useful I call it back up. Within this somatic process, I am composing and attuning to numerous influences (which in this case included Ellery’s musical composition). There are choices being made within the awareness; there are entrances into each “now” constantly happening and then raveling (or unraveling) out as they will. When I enter the exit, an ending develops. The ‘piece’ ends, and then (if all goes well) continues as the rest of the day.</p><p><i>- clyde fusei forth</i></p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfrL5PIT5mGNJueWeypjRV1YY4yS4Za5IsGybjcYBov1-JdHwDm-C-etowluNl2V-Yiyw5p2LyhLttnBeXgXOb6oyXb6AZdblmrEjmsIzlnPjYmtgJj4nLhZ8Ng7TLu01VgfO9DJ4sqIk/s225/cff.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="225" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfrL5PIT5mGNJueWeypjRV1YY4yS4Za5IsGybjcYBov1-JdHwDm-C-etowluNl2V-Yiyw5p2LyhLttnBeXgXOb6oyXb6AZdblmrEjmsIzlnPjYmtgJj4nLhZ8Ng7TLu01VgfO9DJ4sqIk/w200-h200/cff.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br />clyde fusei forth, Artistic Director of <a href="http://www.lokasparsadance.org" target="_blank">Lokasparśa Dance Projects</a> is on <a href="https://www.instagram.com/clyde.forth/">Instagram</a> and also maintains her own blog. I especially enjoyed her most recent post<a href="http://www.lokasparsadance.org/blog/do-it-anyway" target="_blank"> “Do It Anyway”</a>. The video was done during her recent residency at <a href="https://www.mounttremperarts.org/" target="_blank">Mount Tremper Arts</a> on December 20, 2020.<p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Ellery Eskelinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17754806219906266323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507365900573255257.post-18401687485316672762021-01-08T15:42:00.001-05:002021-01-09T21:19:22.879-05:00Given all current events...<p><span style="color: #333333; font-family: times;"><b>Given the events of this week</b> I find it impossible to post any further without a certain acknowledgment. There is much I could have said on many matters during these past four years. While I find it necessary to speak, the overall commentary has been deafening, amplified and distorted as it is by social media. I’ve also been grappling with the tension and overlap between moral/ethical concerns and political action. On this blog I’ve tended to emphasize universal values in music which have distinct parallels in everyday life. There is always the risk however that without addressing the facts on the ground these universal truths could be seen as wishful thinking. They are not. To me they are more real than the things I see with my eyes. Meaning that interpretation of what is seen allows for both understanding and misunderstanding. That’s why I have largely chosen not to offer too many unsolicited opinions, of which I seem to have an endless supply and which inflame my own passions.</span></p><p><span style="color: #333333; font-family: times;">I was speaking with a friend recently about intensity in music. I said that it’s almost more a matter of receiving that intensity rather than creating it. We aren’t passive about it, when it’s time to raise the roof don’t hesitate. But in truth it’s more the case that we create the conditions for this intensity to come about. It’s more an act of accommodation than force. As applied to day-to-day life in these particular days, raw and explicit as they are, I wonder how it might apply. It’s very tempting to want to tell other people what to do, proclaim what is right and what is wrong. Substitute the word truth for intensity in this case. We are all struggling to find the truth in our own way, distracted by our personal desires and too often willing to cause harm in the process, in large ways and in small. I can only trust that what is true is true and that there is in fact no need for me to try and impose my view of the truth on anyone else. At the same time I cannot hesitate to act. Rather than an act of force the best thing I could possibly do is to try my best to cultivate the conditions by which someone else can see that truth. In doing so perhaps it will be reflected back to me, so that I can see more clearly myself.</span></p><p><span style="color: #333333; font-family: times;"><b>Wishing you all peace and sanity as we move forward.</b></span></p><p><span style="color: #333333; font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p><br /></p><p class="p2" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: left;"><span><span class="s1" style="font-family: times; font-kerning: none; font-size: medium;"></span></span></p><p class="p2" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p class="p2" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p class="p2" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p class="p2" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p class="p2" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p class="p2" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p class="p2" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p class="p2" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p class="p2" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span></span></p>Ellery Eskelinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17754806219906266323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507365900573255257.post-49982576951411261722020-12-31T22:06:00.004-05:002021-01-01T00:54:19.906-05:0020/21<div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">It’s almost midnight here in NYC. </span>I’ve wanted to post something before the end of the year and for whatever reasons that hasn’t yet happened. There are a few things I’ve considered writing about and many more that I wish not to. We’re almost at the end of 2020. You were there, you experienced it. And now we’re moving into 2021. Rather than write an essay, I’m going to offer a simple set of words from Buddhist teachings often used for meditation practice, known as The Four Immeasurables. As musicians we know something of these qualities. But no matter what your orientation may be, I think these are worthy to concentrate on and expand upon for the coming new year…</div><div><br /></div><div><b>The Four Immeasurables</b></div><div>Immeasurable Love </div><div>Immeasurable Compassion </div><div>Immeasurable Joy</div><div>Immeasurable Equanimity</div><div><br /></div><div><b>As a recitation:</b></div><div><i>May all beings be free from suffering </i></div><div><i>and the root of suffering</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>May all beings know happiness </i></div><div><i>and the root of happiness</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>May all beings live in sympathetic joy, </i></div><div><i>rejoicing in the happiness of others</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>May all beings live in equanimity, free from passion, </i></div><div><i>aggression and delusion.</i></div><div><br /></div><div><b>There is also a text </b>many centuries old that touches on these, this exchange taken from the Vimalakirti Sutra. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>Manjushri asks:</b><span style="font-size: medium;"> What is the great compassion of a bodhisattva?</span></div><div><b>Vimalakirti:</b> <span style="font-size: medium;">It is the giving of all accumulated virtues to all living beings.</span></div><div><b>Manjushri:</b> <span style="font-size: medium;">What is the great joy of the bodhisattva?</span></div><div><b>Vimalakirti:</b><span style="font-size: medium;"> It is to be joyful and without regret in giving.</span></div><div><b>Manjushri:</b><span style="font-size: medium;"><b> </b>What is the equanimity of the bodhisattva?</span></div><div><b>Vimalakirti:</b> <span style="font-size: medium;">It’s what benefits both self and others.</span></div><div><b>Manjushri:</b> <span style="font-size: medium;">What should we resort to when terrified by the fear of life?</span></div><div><b>Vimalikirti:</b><span style="font-size: medium;"><b> </b>A bodhisattva who is terrified by life should resort to the magnanimity of the Buddha.</span></div><div><b>Manjushri: </b><span style="font-size: medium;">Where should one who wishes to resort to the magnanimity of the Buddha take their stand?</span> </div><div><b>Vimalakirti: </b><span style="font-size: medium;">You should stand in equanimity. You should just live for the liberation of all living beings. </span></div><div><b>Manjushri: </b><span style="font-size: medium;">What should one who wishes to liberate all living beings do?</span></div><div><b>Vimalakirti:</b> <span style="font-size: medium;">Liberate them from their passions. </span></div><div><b>Manjusri:</b> <span style="font-size: medium;">How should one who wishes to eliminate passions apply themselves?</span></div><div><b>Vimalakirti:</b> <span style="font-size: medium;">Appropriately. </span></div><div><b>Manjushri: </b><span style="font-size: medium;">How do you apply yourself appropriately? </span></div><div><b>Vimalakirti:</b> <span style="font-size: medium;">Don’t produce anything and don’t destroy anything. </span></div><div><b>Manjushri:</b><span style="font-size: medium;"> What should I not produce? What should I not destroy?</span></div><div><b>Vimalakirti:</b> <span style="font-size: medium;">Don’t produce anything harmful, and don’t destroy anything good.</span></div><div><b>Manjushri: </b><span style="font-size: medium;">What’s the root of good and evil?</span></div><div><b>Vimalakirti:</b> <span style="font-size: medium;">Form.</span></div><div><b>Manjushri:</b> <span style="font-size: medium;">What is the root of form?</span></div><div><b>Vimalakirti: </b><span style="font-size: medium;">Desire. </span></div><div><b>Manjushri:</b> <span style="font-size: medium;">What is the root of desire? </span></div><div><b>Vimalakirti: </b><span style="font-size: medium;">Unreal mental constructions.</span></div><div><b>Manjushri: </b><span style="font-size: medium;">What’s the root of an unreal mental construction? </span></div><div><b>Vimalakirti: </b><span style="font-size: medium;">A false concept, a false view. </span></div><div><b>Manjushri:</b> <span style="font-size: medium;">What’s the root of false views?</span></div><div><b>Vimalakirti: </b><span style="font-size: medium;">Baselessness.</span></div><div><b>Manjushri:</b> <span style="font-size: medium;">What is the root of baselessness? </span></div><div><b>Vimalakirti:</b> <span style="font-size: medium;">Manjusri, when something is baseless, how can it have any root? Therefore, all things stand on the root which is baseless. </span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Best wishes to all of you, looking forward to 2021 and all of the music it brings...</span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Ellery Eskelinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17754806219906266323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507365900573255257.post-39835283025196488922020-09-24T15:59:00.003-04:002020-10-01T10:46:32.687-04:00Passion and Etymology<br />
Have you ever come across a common word that suddenly seemed peculiar, in that
it's actually two words put together or a word within a word that you never
noticed or paid attention to before? Like <b>“before”</b>, as in <b>"be"</b> and
<b>“fore"</b>? That happened one day I as I looked at the word <b>resist</b> and
wondered, OK, I understand the prefix <b>“re”</b> but re-what? What is
<b>“sist"</b>? In looking it up it turns out that <b>“sist”</b> is actually a
word. It comes from Latin and means <b>“remain, stand or stay”</b>. There are a
good many words that contain the word “sist”; Absist, Assist, Consist, Desist,
Exist, Insist, Intersist, Obsist, Persist, Resist and Subsist. Being an
etymologist might be fun but at the same time there seem to be too many
potential rabbit holes to chase down. You might think there is some hidden
meaning to be found just because a word was once used a certain way or that two
words seem related when they are not. It's often hugely complex but it's still
sometimes compelling to wonder.<br />
<br />
For example, the word <font size="4"><b>compassion</b></font size>. It contains the word
<font size="4"><b>passion</b></font size>.<br />
<br />
Because they have such different meanings and connotations it got me to thinking
(and googling) and I was surprised at what I found. <b>Passion</b> comes from
the Latin word “patior” which means <b>“suffer”</b>. <b>Compassion</b> uses the
prefix <b>“com”</b> meaning <b>“with”</b>, as in <b>“to suffer with”</b>.<br /><br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO1EG9QyvoEH03xT9bXxk6RPZqQtr28tHugS76c2ooZerVoZegWTfe06_2XjuNBUo6tKuVMkzxjYxbIKL8VdrouSUJwVfl36xpk2WuDs9yBnr29HKKhoAQVEefcLJppnME2SFhaV6QwnM/s898/Coltrane+by+Chuck+Stewart.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="769" data-original-width="898" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO1EG9QyvoEH03xT9bXxk6RPZqQtr28tHugS76c2ooZerVoZegWTfe06_2XjuNBUo6tKuVMkzxjYxbIKL8VdrouSUJwVfl36xpk2WuDs9yBnr29HKKhoAQVEefcLJppnME2SFhaV6QwnM/s320/Coltrane+by+Chuck+Stewart.jpg"/></a></div>
This being a blog about music, how does making music relate to passion and
compassion? I’ve said before that music is a compassionate act. But what does
that actually mean? Saxophonist John Coltrane titled the second movement in his
Meditations suite “Compassion”. There is very much a spiritual dimension to the
suite, as was the case with his previous recording “A Love Supreme”. While there
is precedent in considering the relationship between music and compassion it’s
not often discussed overtly in musical circles. I guess because it’s not an
overtly musically associative word. Or maybe because nobody wants to sound
preachy.<br />
<br />
As for passion, that seems easier. A passion for music is what drives us. It’s a
good thing and we don’t think of it as suffering. We do sacrifice along the way,
it’s not a particularly easy path in life even as it is deeply rewarding. So in
considering what we are willing to endure in order to attain our goals perhaps
suffering is not so far off the mark. It would seem to be a balancing act but
what makes this work? It’s not as if anyone expects to one day wake up and
realize that they are completely satisfied with their work, have done it all
perfectly and that there are no longer any problems. No, the drive is insatiable
and there is always something to be improved upon, something new to be
discovered. In this way passion can also be understood as desire, which is a
double edged sword. It's a great thing when it takes you out of yourself and
into something bigger. It's not such a great thing when applied solely towards
self satisfaction. We suffer when we don’t get what we want (it's not enough)
and we also suffer when we do get what we want (it's never enough). At the same
time, if you are unwilling to be dissatisfied you will likely not achieve very
much in the way of true satisfaction in life or music. It would seem we have to
be willing to suffer.<br />
<br />
That may sound depressing, except for the other word, compassion. Trouble is,
it's kind of a big fluffy word as it stands there all alone. In order for it to
do it's thing, it needs to be precise, according to real events, real people and
real suffering. To “suffer with” is <i>an act</i> of compassion, not <i>an idea</i> about
compassion. And so again, in keeping with the fact that this is a blog about
music, what does this mean?<br />
<br />
Music critic <b>Alex Ross</b> <a href="https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2020/09/21/black-scholars-confront-white-supremacy-in-classical-music" target="_blank">wrote an article</a> for the New Yorker recently which
ended with the statement:<br />
<br />
<font size="4">
<i
>“The ultimate mistake is to look to music—or to any art form—as a zone of
moral improvement, a refuge of sweetness and light.”</i
><br /> </font size>
<br />
Taken out of context it’s an odd thing to say, perhaps. It sounds amoral. His
article was addressing racism as exists in the classical music world,
particularly in the United States. I think he was saying that it is the nature
of music to contain all aspects of human nature and that any notion of
transcendence or transformation needs to accommodate what happens when a modern
and diverse group of musicians takes on a musical canon, the historical roots of
which contain troubling aspects. At least that was my take on it. But in looking
at it as a standalone quote I think there is something worth considering in that
it seems to acknowledge that we need to feel our pain, individually and
collectively, in order to heal and move forward.<br />
<br />
Another way of saying it is that a true morality <b>must be whole</b>. It can’t exclude
the parts we don’t want. If we exclude them they can never be transformed.
Yet another way of saying it might be, let it be <b>true first and foremost</b>. We
may not know what that truth is until it's revealed in a process, an act of
compassion. It may require letting go of every idea we have about it going in, which
may seem frightening until we realize that there is also a responsibility
that follows from that. It implies that the big picture and the facts on the
ground are never at odds with one another. What if we took the attitude that we
are never at odds with one another? It’s hard to share someone’s suffering by
being opposed to them. Disagreement is one thing, opposition is quite another.<br />
<br />
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Having mentioned John Coltrane in this context I can’t help but also think of
Albert Ayler. Both deeply spiritual people, my sense is that they did not ignore
events nor were they limited by events. As intense as the times and conditions
were they seemed to put everything into music. <b>Mutawaf A. Shaheed</b> was a
cellist with Albert Ayler. He stopped playing in 1970 and these days is an imam
at a Cleveland mosque. <a href="https://www.thewire.co.uk/in-writing/interviews/avant-garde-jazz-cleveland-interview-with-mutawaf-a-shaheed" target="_blank">He was interviewed by The Wire</a> about his time with Albert
Ayler and said:<br />
<br />
<font size="4">“<i>Albert is his music. His music is everywhere, touches everything.</i>”</font size><br />
<br />
My feeling is that’s because he was relating to everything, he didn’t leave
anything out. Whatever his powers as a musician were, they also are everywhere.
For a human being, in allowing those powers to flow, it’s limitless. In trying
to hold on to them it’s destructive.<br />
<br />
I don't want to paint a dark picture with all of this, it's just that the
etymology of those words invite a different, potentially helpful way to look at
music and at difficult situations. I don't think it would be worth talking about
suffering in this way if it did not point to joy.<br />
<br />
I would also like to point out that there are many musicians and
many musics in this worldwide tapestry. Not everything need be seen through the
lens of this music nor any of this terminology. As much as I increasingly speak
about these things I’m averse to moralizing.<br />
<br />
About ten years ago, in an interview, I responded to the question “what is
spiritual” by saying <b>“I don’t know, I don’t have a clue.”</b><br />
<br />
That sounds dismissive, probably it was. My reasons for saying that at the time
had to do with frustration around compartmentalizing or conceptualizing the
experience of music and not knowing how to move forward except to reject the
question outright. Since that time I’ve become much less phobic about the word
and yet I might still give the same answer although for a different reason. That
being, I think it is a mistake to take an idea of what is spiritual, moral or
compassionate and make it into a prescriptive act in music and art as opposed to
a receptive one.<br />
<br />
We can and do move forward. It's not for me to tell anyone else anything about
that, really. So in your own way, in whatever form it takes, I hope you will
follow and share your passion.<br />
<br /><br>
<br><br>
Ellery Eskelinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17754806219906266323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507365900573255257.post-38348208917971832912020-09-12T13:44:00.000-04:002020-09-13T15:15:18.903-04:00At the same time…A couple of recent passings in the jazz world have got me thinking about the whole New York City jazz “thing”; the history, the mystique and the reality. Many thoughts and memories come flooding in but it will be some time before I can really pull any words together. Thinking about the past requires looking at the present in a different way.<br />
<br />
That’s all the more challenging now. The trajectory of the New York scene and it’s reach seems more uncertain than ever. But we do have the chance to reconsider some basic assumptions. Personally I’m realizing that I don’t miss the insane travel, one-nighters were always rough. I can see that we often pursued opportunities to play with an undercurrent of unease, knowing that it might not last even as we scrambled to make a virtue out of busyness. But in a way it doesn’t matter since that’s just how it was; I love to play and wouldn’t trade any of it away.<br />
<br />
<b>At the same time</b> maybe it’s good to look at what seems difficult if not impossible about envisioning a path forward once things open up. But any remedies for the music business in general or New York in particular require remedies for the entire country and by extension the world. We are at that point and we have to see this as a chance to do things better. I don’t know what will happen but on the most basic level we all know what needs to happen. And it’s not what we’re seeing. <b>At the same time</b>, being home thinking about all these big things pretty much forces me to see the ways in which small things add up. It makes me want to take greater care.<br />
<br />
In spite of uncertainty, our history is compelling and I take solace in knowing that there are dedicated individuals who made a difference in one way or another with their lives and their art. It’s compelling to see an example of someone taking a path that we might aspire to. <b>At the same time</b> it's unsettling to see folks on precarious paths, creating in spite of the challenges.<br />
<br />
Here are two musicians who I was very much aware of even though any interactions were limited. I’m in no position to tell their stories but in thinking about their lives and contributions quite a lot comes up. I’ll try to keep the words short, at least for now.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Steve Grossman</span><br />
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I first saw Steve at the Star Cafe on 23rd Street one night in the mid-eighties. He unexpectedly walked in and sat in with the band. It was kind of frightening but also inspiring. He really embodied the New York tenor “thing” to an extent that few others could. Whether you liked it or not (and I did) he represented a level of playing that had to be dealt with one way or another. If you weren’t going to do what he did, better than he did it, then you needed to find your own way. Years later I ran into him on a train platform in Italy, I think he was living in Bologna at the time. Just a short encounter but an affirmation of sorts, in spite of all differences, that we are in this game together.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Gary Peacock</span><br />
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I first heard Gary on Albert Ayler’s recordings “Spiritual Unity” and “Spirits Rejoice” from the 1960’s. His playing on those sessions was like nothing I’d ever heard. He also played with a vast array of other musicians with widely differing approaches to music. But all the same really. That was what was so impressive, that he could demonstrate the connections between things you might have thought were irreconcilable.<br />
<br />
<b>Pianist Marc Copland</b> wrote a <a href="https://londonjazznews.com/2020/09/09/marc-copland-remembers-gary-peacock-1935-2020/" target="_blank">very moving tribute about their 37 year friendship</a>. I’ve known Marc since 1979 and he has been a mentor, teaching me quite a lot about music in those early days. I was fascinated by his understanding and unique approach to harmony. We even co-wrote a tune together, called <b>“So Long Ago”</b>. Marc recorded the song on his first release, “My Foolish Heart” in 1988. It features Gary Peacock on bass, John Abercrombie on guitar and Jeff Hirshfield on drums. Being that it’s long been out of print <a href="https://drive.google.com/file/d/1U-Te4gTojOJA8eZHnYVtv5SBEY9nWp6D/view?usp=sharing" target="_blank">I’ll post it here</a>.<br />
<br />
I did meet Gary a few times and had some stimulating conversations about…everything really, since that’s how he seemed to see it all. As an example, he suggested I read this book by physicist David Bohm titled “<a href="https://www.google.com/search?ei=4i9dX89Xy72CB8LwmvAN&q=%E2%80%9CWholeness+And+The+Implicate+Order%E2%80%9D&oq=%E2%80%9CWholeness+And+The+Implicate+Order%E2%80%9D&gs_lcp=CgZwc3ktYWIQAzICCAAyAggAMgIIADICCAAyAgguMgIIADICCAAyAggAMgIILjoECAAQR1D17xJY9e8SYI7yEmgAcAJ4AIABRIgBRJIBATGYAQCgAQGqAQdnd3Mtd2l6yAEIwAEB&sclient=psy-ab&ved=0ahUKEwjP0InfuuTrAhXLnuAKHUK4Bt4Q4dUDCA0&uact=5" target="_blank">Wholeness And The Implicate Order</a>”. The first half is about language and the second involves mathematics. I failed algebra in school but the chapters on language reveal the ways in which false assumptions about reality have become embedded in the way we use language.<br />
<br />
<b>Here are a couple of quotes from David Bohm</b> that feel appropriate to the moment:<br />
<br />
<i>“Suppose we were able to share meanings freely without a compulsive urge to impose our view or conform to those of others and without distortion and self-deception. Would this not constitute a real revolution in culture? ”</i><br />
<i>― David Bohm</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>“There is a difficulty with only one person changing. People call that person a great saint or a great mystic or a great leader, and they say, 'Well, he's different from me - I could never do it.' What's wrong with most people is that they have this block - they feel they could never make a difference, and therefore, they never face the possibility, because it is too disturbing, too frightening.”</i><br />
<i>― David Bohm</i><br />
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<br />Ellery Eskelinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17754806219906266323noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6507365900573255257.post-28048412781830131882020-08-22T19:03:00.001-04:002021-05-28T19:28:58.825-04:00Late August, 2020, NYC<b><br /></b>
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<b>My last gig was in December of 2019. </b> It’s been eight months since I’ve played music with another person. What’s surprising is that I’m pretty much OK with it. I don’t know how I should feel about that, but that’s OK too. Sometimes we need to learn how to be quiet. Practicing my horn each day, it’s enough. As I've said before, the saxophone has never let me down.<br />
<br />
I’ve been listening to music. A little. Very little, actually. Almost none really.<br />
<br />
Otherwise we’ve been deep into the daily routine. It’s neither good or bad any longer, it just is what it is. I don’t have any stories to tell. No adventures, no anecdotes to share, no exciting plans to promote. I do follow politics. Do you need me to tell you about that? No. You don’t.<br />
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If I was a skilled enough writer I could describe how beautiful Central Park is on a perfect afternoon. What it smells like after a good rain, all of the different bird calls. I could revel in the telling of how “the more you look the more you see” in the wild wooded areas. Or I might try and describe what it’s like navigating Prospect Park (which I do not know well) on a bike, looking for a friend. You already knew that I don’t carry a cell phone, right? Lost, it took an hour and a half on a hot day, drenched in sweat, working out my frustration on each stroke of the pedals, wanting desperately to be “on time” before finally locating him, sitting alone under some massive trees facing a meadow. We sat together for a few hours while the park changed around us. How could I possibly describe that? Speaking of parks, I celebrated a birthday with my family by having a take-out meal from our favorite Vietnamese restaurant in Chinatown, Nha Trang. I’ve been going there since I don’t know when, maybe late 80’s? It seems that every Vietnamese restaurant I’ve been to has a different approach to many of the same dishes. Nha Trang has been absolutely consistent in their offerings and the place has barely changed over the years. They have seen my son grow from a toddler to a young man. He orders the same dish every time, they just bring it when he shows up. We took our meal to Union Square park to meet up with his girlfriend and spread a blanket on the grass just as it was getting towards dusk. There were a few other groups of folks on the lawn but I wasn’t totally sure we were supposed to be there, it felt a little transgressive. In my twenties I might have been energized by that. At this point there are some adult impulses that are starting to kick in. Better late than never. And there are rats in the park. You knew that right? It was a beautiful, if slightly menacing, evening.<br />
<br />
Otherwise most of the interactions I have with folks are rather brief. So I’ve been thinking a lot. Probably too much. <b> Here’s this one thing that hung me up a little. </b><br />
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A few posts ago I mentioned listening to Watazumi Doso. Since then I’ve been in touch with trombonist Ben Gerstein who shared with me more information about this elusive figure. Ben also pointed me to a blog he maintains containing recordings of traditional music from cultures around the world. It’s music I don’t always understand, yet I feel an immediate affinity towards. You can sense there is wisdom in this music, something in the act of making sound in order to reach for what’s invisible, what’s inexpressible about being alive, that all cultures seem to share. No matter what I may think of modern music by comparison, something seems very much the same.<br />
<br />
This was all mulling around in the back of my mind when my son showed me a book he’s using for a college class called “The World of Music”. I was eager to look at it and yet immediately disappointed by page two. <b> “Music: Universal Language or Culturally Specific Activity?”</b><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Groan… </span><br />
<br />
It’s an old either/or argument of the kind I’m no longer interested in and yet I got hooked. This is probably the “too much thinking” part. I knew it wasn’t going anywhere and yet I wanted to understand why it upset me. Maybe this time there would be some insight in seeing it through and coming out the other end. Because this is not just a theoretical pursuit. Being a musician trying to make sense out of current conditions, along with everyone else, it matters, in ways that reach beyond musical concerns.<br />
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The book made clear it was coming from the standpoint that no, music is not a universal language. I’ve felt this myself, twenty years ago raising the same question (in the liner notes to Arcanum Moderne) but for a different reason, questioning my own assumptions about who might or might not relate to what I’m trying to do musically. Ethnomusicology is an academic study and the book makes a clear and reasonable case for the pitfalls in assuming too much about intent and meaning. To say that an intended meaning or cultural understanding is not precisely communicated may be true but that is not all of what music is. Even when we have cultural or personal meaning, there is still mystery. So while there is nothing I really disagree with here (except for the unnecessary negation of what gets to the heart of why we, meaning everyone, make and relate to music to begin with) there is an intellectual bias, an arrogance even, in the assumption that this can be understood and packaged in words. Arrogance because power is at the root of it. The drive “to know”, which is admirable, can become a tool with which to subjugate, even vandalize ourselves. And I say that as someone who otherwise admires the scientific pursuit.<br />
<br />
My son jokingly said that in looking through the book and seeing everything named and laid out, he wouldn’t even have to listen to the music. You can imagine my reaction. It’s like saying “I want to understand something without ever actually doing it.” I’ve occasionally encountered students who seem to think they need to understand something before they can do it. It’s a gross underestimation of experiential, ingrained practice. But don’t get me wrong, intellectual understanding is fine. I’m also a very strong proponent of misunderstanding as an essential creative element in making music.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>There is something universal about music. </b> </span>Clearly it’s not a language in the literal sense but it is a universal activity. Then again, so is language. Can we say that language is the universal language? Not that there is one that everybody understands. But we do seem pretty good at translation, using language itself to communicate across linguistic distances. Reminds me of that joke about the United States and Britain being two countries separated by a common language.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">What’s really at the heart of this is meaning. </span> </b>Asking what music means from a scientific perspective becomes an exercise in science coming to grips with it’s own limitations as a discipline. But let’s keep going a bit further.<br />
<br />
<b>And so the question I might ask is what kind of meaning?</b><br />
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The assumption, at least on the part of ethnomusicologists generally, seems to be intellectual, verbalized and measurable meaning. But sound is just sound. What’s touched in the listener is a recognition of something. It might reflect something mathematical but it’s not math. It’s sometimes like speaking but there are no words. I am speaking largely about instrumental music, but not exclusively. Even when we sing about a certain topic we’re really singing about something much larger. That’s why we sing it!<br />
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What there is is a sense of movement. Movement was required to make that sound and a sense of movement is conveyed in that sound. Even stasis, such as a drone, carries physicality. The sustain is also movement through time.<br />
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<b>So there may be a kinetic “meaning”. </b> A bodily action or a movement in nature corresponding in sound. It’s not necessarily specific, but it’s fundamentally relatable. Our physicality is the physicality of the entire universe. When we make music we are resonating with the entire universe. That may seem like a big assertion but I see nothing standing in the way of it. From simple elemental actions, immense complexity and richness can be created. And it’s completely ephemeral. In order for it to be sustained it has to be shared. It has to be lived. This can be interpreted as universal (shared among everyone), cultural (shared among some) and individual (your personal response) all at once. Is it good music? Is it bad music? It doesn’t change anything. We can interpret things however we like, for our benefit and to our detriment.<br />
<br />
If meaning was fixed and music were culturally static there would be no sharing or understanding among people. The book is correct to point out that cultural meanings are given to music by us and are not literally and specifically embedded or communicated in the music. The book is misleading however in the implication that meaning can only be intellectual, verbal, literal. It’s possible that I’m being too loose with the word meaning but we need to accommodate the effects of change with respect to meaning; intent, purpose and usage as well as misunderstanding, mis-use, distortion, appropriation, exploitation, theft, forgetting, loss and indifference.<br />
<br />
So it’s impossible really, to break music down to some kind of meaning even as it feels deeply meaningful to make and listen to music. And because it’s an action, it’s direct. Not just the idea of an action but someone, a real person, has to do something. You. You have to do something. A fellow musician recently asked how I would talk about swing. My first response was “swing is you swinging”. Might we say music is you playing music? Or music is you listening to music? The more I think about it, the more I think that’s true.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Music expresses the universal within the very particulars of our lives</span></b> which are changing all the time. It’s so easy to identify with music because it reflects who we are, what we are. We assert our experience of it vociferously because it seems so deeply real and true. Because there is no fixed meaning, even our conflicts can seem embedded in music. Want to start an argument? Ask a group of people if music is political. This can be vexing but the more I think about it the less of a conflict I see. To the extent that music might be seen as political we do not need to add or take away from it. Life and music are ephemeral and fluid, moving, containing potential. And we are nothing if not potential. We intuitively know and feel that music can erase the sense of separateness that we feel from the world, from others and even from ourselves. In this way music is a compassionate act. It may not change the world or the immediate circumstances of your life in some direct, discernible way but it certainly has the potential to relieve a lot of suffering. Just try and imagine a world with no music.<br />
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Understanding that what is universal is not opposed to what is relative might also help come to terms with what we think of as intellectual about music. It’s undeniable that some musics, like certain kinds of jazz, may have a strong intellectual component. Questions are often raised as to what you have to do in order to understand it. I’ve always stood by the notion that you don’t have to understand it. Everything you need is there, the very same sound, completely available to the “expert” and the “novice”, if that’s how you want to look at it. At the same time it’s bottomless, endless. The problem, if there is one, is that experts think they know and novices think they don’t. The only real difference I can see is that of immersion, repeated listening, living with it. When the conditions are right, your experience is transformed.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiudAPLqyB3fomEjHOaKyeq9FIQT_R0uuQePTnhssUmSQy6BGtB2nU-3v2uJJ_8KSoRUt8EQSR4jUCGBjfvYBghdxCN5QGxOtJLgeKrfW0tbH-_oRm1QKEsFCGQ6N5jYyN-FR0SO_huKEo/s1600/Igor-Stravinsky-009.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1600" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiudAPLqyB3fomEjHOaKyeq9FIQT_R0uuQePTnhssUmSQy6BGtB2nU-3v2uJJ_8KSoRUt8EQSR4jUCGBjfvYBghdxCN5QGxOtJLgeKrfW0tbH-_oRm1QKEsFCGQ6N5jYyN-FR0SO_huKEo/s320/Igor-Stravinsky-009.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">In researching this topic I came across a couple of <b>quotes from composer Igor Stravinsky</b> that seem to bridge the gap a bit between music and the study of music.</span><br />
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<i>“For I consider that music is, by its very nature, essentially powerless to express anything at all, whether a feeling, an attitude of mind, a psychological mood, a phenomenon of nature, etc. Expression has never been an inherent property of music. That is by no means the purpose of its existence. If, as is nearly always the case, music appears to express something, this is only an illusion and not a reality. It is simply an additional attribute which, by tacit and inveterate agreement, we have lent it, thrust upon it, as a label, a convention – in short, an aspect which, unconsciously or by force of habit, we have come to confuse with its essential being.” </i>Igor Stravinsky (1936). An Autobiography, p. 53-54.<br />
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Years later he addressed and revised his statement:<br />
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<i>“The over-publicized bit about expression (or non-expression) was simply a way of saying that music is supra-personal and super-real and as such beyond verbal meanings and verbal descriptions. It was aimed against the notion that a piece of music is in reality a transcendental idea "expressed in terms of" music, with the reductio ad absurdum implication that exact sets of correlatives must exist between a composer's feelings and his notation. It was offhand and annoyingly incomplete, but even the stupider critics could have seen that it did not deny musical expressivity, but only the validity of a type of verbal statement about musical expressivity. I stand by the remark, incidentally, though today I would put it the other way around: music expresses itself.” </i>Igor Stravinsky and Robert Craft (1962). Expositions and Developments.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">“Music expresses itself”</span></b><br />
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I would go along with that but perhaps not for the same reasons he did. Or at least I’m not sure we need to take such an intellectual path to get there. It’s not unlike the problem that every improviser faces; developing, practicing and executing great musical ideas only to find out just how awkward it is to try and fit them into a given musical space. It’s backwards, contrary to the way music flows.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Perhaps we can cut to the chase…</span><br />
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If we think we don’t know the answers, we think we’re confused. If you bring a confused mind to music, the result will likely be confusion. It’s only necessary to listen. I often say trust the music, which means trust yourself. Which means trust what you are doing. In spite of what we tell ourselves, we all know how to do that. We do it every day of our lives, the rest is drama. When I say drama I’m not talking about hardship, misunderstanding, conflict, injustice or the basics of survival, all of which are too real.<br />
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Trusting what you are doing is really a matter of simplicity. It doesn’t change anything, it doesn’t solve anything, it doesn’t get you anything. But as in music, it’s your experience that is transformed.<br />
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<b>DESCRIPTION OF A SIMPLE ACT</b><br />
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<b>Premise: </b> It's not so easy to let things be exactly as they are.<br />
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<b>Prospectus: </b> The closer you get the more you can let go of.<br />
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<b>Proposal:</b> A simple act expresses itself, music expresses itself, giving and receiving expresses itself.<br />
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This is enough. But don’t take my word for it. <b>Listen…</b><br />
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Ellery Eskelinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17754806219906266323noreply@blogger.com0