Sound Commitments Avant-Garde Music and the Sixties

Edited by Robert Adlington
Oxford University Press

“If you remember the Sixties, it means you weren’t there” is a cliché with a kernel of truth in it – especially the insistence that rock sounds subsumed other music then. Yet the Sixties also saw mass acceptance of New and electronic music, while jazz’s most radical sounds divorced it from its role as entertainment.

Sound Commitments aims to redefine that momentous decade in a dozen essays about advanced sonic experimentation that tried to negotiate the currents between political movements and individual expression. On the evidence, triumph of the later over the former created the longest lasting sounds.

Some essays are more insightful than others. Most notable are Benjamin Piekut’s piece on leftist composer Henry Flynt; Amy Beal’s history of the pioneering improvising/electronic group Musica Elettronica Viva (MEV); plus Yayoi Everett’s take on Japanese avant-garde music; and Peter Schmeltz’s tale of how one Moscow studio was a centre of pre-Glasnost sonic adventures.

Others may be only of specialist interest. Beate Kutsche’s elaboration of the socio-political debate involving Süddeutscher Runfunk’s music producer refusing to premiere Nikolaus Huber’s Harakiri, after it was commissioned, retells a brouhaha in beer stein. Similarly Sumanth Gopinath’s parsing of Steve Reich’s 1966 tape-loop piece, Come Out, which the composer says is open to many interpretations, attempts to politicize by inference. Insisting, for instance, that Reich’s tape manipulation “doing violence” to the source is comparable to the police violence done to the subject is far-fetched.

Somewhere in the middle is Bernard Gendron’s examination of how the 1964 October Revolution concerts and formation of the Jazz Composers Guild, led to acceptance of so-called Second Wave avant-garde jazz musicians. Crucially, the one essay dealing exclusively with jazz, examines economic necessities and artistic exploitation rather than the art music grants system at a time when “the artificial borders between classical and jazz experimentalism were still being strongly policed by high culture”. Unfortunately Gendron’s evidence for the canonization of the Second Wave, based on specialist magazine coverage is somewhat spurious, considering that eventually he writes “economics trump[ed] aesthetics” as rock music gained massive popularity.

Subverting so-called popular sounds to fit composed music is a book-long theme. A member of the hard-line Workers World Party, Flynt extended his criticism of “European white ruling class art” not only by demonstrating against a Karlheinz Stockhausen concert, but also by insisting that “Negro vernacular music” must be the only sounds for Marxist-Leninists. He also attempted to translate Ornette Coleman’s innovations to violin when recording agit-prop songs with his rock-blues band.

Similarly the members of Rome-based MEV, an improvising group consisting of composers, operated as a “tribe” that “believed we could transform the world,” recalls Alvin Curran. Other notable MEVers were Frederic Rzewski, Richard Teitlelbaum and Steve Lacy. Utilizing a portable synthesizer, MEV staged loft performances with audience participation plus illegal outdoor shows using radios and contact microphones. Encouraged by the climate for New music in Italy – and supported by American foundation funding – that version of MEV splintered following conflicts between those with conservatory background and the self-taught. {FIX]

Elsewhere, performances given at Tokyo’s privately funded Sôgetsu Centre, evolved from those involving a blend of traditional Japanese and advanced music – including a John Cage showcase – to Happenings such as Yoko Ono’s “Cut Piece” dealing with voyeurism and violence. “Themes of social alienation and individual autonomy … attempt [ed] to transcend the norms and hierarchies of traditional Japanese society”, notes Everett.

Analogous, but unique, the concert series utilizing the ANS synthesizer at Moscow’s Scriabin Museum – named for composer Alexander Nikolayevich Scriabin – functioned in the Vnye border in-and-outside of officialdom because of inventor Yevgeniy Murzin’s high-level party contacts. Although the technology-loving Soviets couldn’t afford to mass produce the ANS, the existing one “officially disappeared” into the museum. Thus experimental music involving trance, jazz, dance, improv, Happenings, costumes and puppets flourished at the Scriabin. Murzin’s 1970 death meant that rock bands such as Boomerang literally took centre stage. Although the museum’s experiments meant that jazz and rock were judged by the same criteria as so-called “academic, intellectual” music, the Scriabin was “dissolved” in 1975 and the ANS transferred to Moscow State University.

Recounting little-known tales like these confirms Sound Commitments value, in tracing avant-garde sounds’ movement from the academy to the streets. More volumes of its quality about those times would be welcome.

-- Ken Waxman

-- For MusicWorks Issue #106

March 8, 2010

Musica Elettronica Viva

MEV 40
New World Records 80675-2

Consisting of a nucleus of academically trained composers who promoted free improvisation and group interaction, Musica Elettronica Viva (MEV) was the sort of musical aggregation that could only have been born in the 1960s.

Yet as this absorbing four-CD set of MEV performances – from its beginning in 1967, to its 40th anniversary – proves, the group’s triumphs are musically sophisticated as well as sociologically notable. Willingly subsuming the vaulted tradition of a single composer into group interaction, MEV’s most notable pieces added the smarts of jazz improvisers and the sonic versatility of increasingly complex electronic instruments to the compositional stew. Furthermore, the group has survived all these years because it never allowed electronics to submerge its initial humanistic and populist approach.

Founded in Rome by three American composers studying in that city: Alvin Curran (b. 1938), Frederic Rzewski (b. 1938) and Richard Teitelbaum (b. 1939), MEV members were at that time some of the few so-called serious musicians performing for young hippies and politicos in that city’s coffee houses, universities, factories and open- air plazas. Audience participation in these free-form extravaganzas was a norm, although the first-class tracks on this set showcase only professionals.

For more than 30 years, probably the most important MEV fellow traveler was expatiate American soprano saxophonist Steve Lacy (1934-2004). Paris-based Lacy’s experience in first Dixieland and then Free Jazz not only added a lyrical construct to the group’s performances but replaced a reliance on electronics with masterful acoustic techniques. Another valuable associate was trombonist Garrett List (b. 1943). An American though Belgium-based, List is more affiliated with theatre pieces and New music than jazz, but his erudite instrumental control strengthens the performances still further on the pieces on which he’s featured.

Ironically, “Stop The War”, recorded in 1972 without Lacy but with percussionist Gregory Reeves and Karl Berger on marimba as well as List, Curran, Rzewski and Teitelbaum, is the most jazz-like – as well as the most programmatic – track. Commenting on the Viet Nam war, the output from the synthesizers used by Curran and Teitelbaum is almost visually descriptive. There are fortissimo allusions to explosions, jagged beeps, watery whooshes and short-wave-like static. Meanwhile List honks and slurs, Berger whaps his wooden keys to produce full-force reverberation, Reeves taps out an intermittent marital beat and Curran’s piccolo trumpet asides add to the contrapuntal timbres that underlie the performance. Among the broken octaves and split tones, Rzewski provides his own commentary with metronomic piano chording. Among the recognizable melodies he plays are a sardonic “When Johnny Comes Marching Home” and a concluding “Taps”.

Lacy, who appears on tracks recorded in 1982, 1989 and 2002, gives even more focus to the proceedings. By that point the core trio had graduated from using such jerry-built instruments as home-made synthesizer, a thumb piano attached to motor oil can and an amplified glass plate with springs to using poly Moogs, modular synthesizers and microcomputers. Yet during a more-than 87-minute performance from 1982, stretched over the first tracks on two discs, the soprano saxophonist’s straightforward acoustic exposition encourages everyone to substitute shape for self-indulgence

Tentatively and authoritatively affiliated staccato timbres from saxophone and trombone (List) not only provide obbligato reflections of one another, but are captured and processed by the electronics. Added to this is Rzewski’s processional prepared-piano chording. Eventually the aggressive thumps, clanks and pulsated textures from the blurry synthesized flutters are pushed to one side. Eventually the trombonist’s braying plunger work and the saxophonist’s concentrated split tones join Curran’s raucous piccolo trumpet for a definite, raucous finale.

Even more breath-taking is Lacy’s final recorded appearance with MEV in 2002. By this time samplers and Max/MSP real-time digital manipulating programs were the norm for Curran and Teitelbaum. Yet the shimmering wave forms still don’t dominate. The acoustic side, which includes Lacy’s soprano, List’s trombone and Rzewski’s piano is further strengthened by the addition of George Lewis (b. 1952), equally proficient on trombone and computer. Meanwhile the other two use the electronic interface and programmed applications to create unique sampled and reprocessed sounds. At one point, dexterously harmonized horn parts share space with sampled snatches of cantorial chants and a loop of vernacular street phrases.

Meanwhile Lacy’s discursive reed outlines the double-stopped theme as Rzewski kinetically vibrates cadenzas with sympathetic soundboard echoes. As the electronics shimmer in wave-modulated bursts, the pianist’s burlesque arpeggios turns serious, backing up interaction among Curran braying shofar tones, chirping soprano saxophone trills and arching trombone slurs. By the time the head is recapped at a slightly slower tempo, List has even movingly growled the lyrics of “You Are My Sunshine.”

Completing the set are a quiet, almost completely electronic track by the core trio from 2007 and a 30-minute free-for-all from 1967 that added a vocalist and tenor saxophonist. Every track balances anarchy and formalism to create something more then improvised, electronic or so-called serious music. MEV performs sui generis modern music period.

-- Ken Waxman

-- For Whole Note Vol. 14 #10

July 3, 2009

Steve Lacy-Roswell Rudd Quartet

Early and Late
Cuneiform Records Rune 250/251

Slightly deceptively titled this memorable two-CD set celebrates the four-decades-long collaboration between trombonist Roswell Rudd and soprano saxophonist Steve Lacy. The title is ambiguous because while four tracks are by the legendary 1962 Lacy-Rudd quartet, the remaining nine showcase the reconstituted partnership late (1999) and very late (2002) in its tenure – Lacy died in 2004.

Overall the quartet – featuring bassist Bob Cunningham and drummer Dennis Charles in 1962 and bassist Jean- Jacques Avenel and drummer John Betsch later on – performs the timeless repertoire that characterized Lacy-Rudd meetings in the intervening years: single lines by Cecil Taylor, Herbie Nichols and Rudd plus five originals by Lacy and a large helping of Thelonious Monk’s music, which the two championed years before its adoption by the repertory movement.

Perhaps the most noticeable difference between 1962 and afterwards, is the bright, neo-Dixie textures of both soloists. Young Lacy could be playing clarinet and young Rudd’s tailgate slurs are obvious. Combining inverted sticking and press rolls, Charles’ playing is unique as well, although the bassist is merely a walker.

Skip forward and the horns’ pitches have darkened, but each man’s attack is more supple and distinctive. Avenel’s strumming pulses and double-stopping is at a similar high level, as are Betsch’s rolls and rebounds. The result is a bittersweet concoction emphasizing Rudd’s gruff smears and Lacy’s pinched trills. Lacy’s “Blinks” becomes a slippery tone poem with the soprano’s peeping split tones buoyant, while the trombonist’s low-pitched snorts and rhythmic breaths encompass nods to Kid Ory and “Chattanooga Choo Choo”.

This intermingling of sweet and sour is most evident on Rudd’s “Bamako”, given a Latinesque bounce by Betsch. Lacy’s unrestrained note-holding open up into legato phrasing, while Rudd, referencing “Take the A Train” and “Darktown Strutters’ Ball” chromatically builds a solo out of bitten-off notes and elongated smears, concluding with gutbucket growls.

Sadly this duo will never play again.

-- Ken Waxman

In MusicWorks Issue #101

July 2, 2008

Steve Lacy/John Heward

Recessional (for Oliver Johnson)
Mode Avant 04

Culmination of a 20-year friendship, Montreal drummer John Heward’s and American soprano saxophonist Steve Lacy’s first – and last – duo concert is preserved on this CD. A less-than-39-minute bagatelle, Recessional gains added poignancy due to Lacy’s death from cancer a year later.

It’s fitting that the live show honored Oliver Johnson, long-time drummer in the saxophonist’s Paris-based sextet. For Heward, a renowned Canadian painter and sculptor, has recently evolved into an avocational percussionist, proficient enough to play with improv masters like multi-instrumentalist Joe McPhee and violinist Malcolm Goldstein

Sensitive yet sturdy, Heward’s duple meter rumbles, cymbal slaps, press rolls and drum-top pitter patter provide the perfect backdrop for Lacy’s improvisations, which after all are the main draw here. Unobtrusive, he fluidly marks tempo and timbre changes along with the saxophonist.

Lyrical and polyphonic with a suggestion of both “Taps” and tap dancing, the main theme is the finale of the concert. Repetitive, melancholy and celebratory, it culminates in an emphasized, echoing split tone from Lacy.

Earlier, the saxophonist, who first defined the soprano’s role in modern jazz, displays his matchless technique. He produces a wide, almost Dixieland-like vibrato at times, and straight, sharp clipped tones elsewhere. Flutter tonguing, double-tonguing and reverberating his body tube, his collection of quacks, snarls and growls is second to none. Yet never do these narrowed, nasal pitches or spit-encrusted obbligatos fail to communicate. Jittery reed-biting textures plus rubato tongue-stopping surround concise story-telling phrases. Meanwhile, the drummer uses bell ringing, kalimba scrapes and press rolls to underline and extend the multiphonic interface.

Never to be repeated, the CD faithfully captures a moment in time.

-- Ken Waxman

-- For CODA Issue 330

January 1, 2007

JOËLLE LÉANDRE/INDIA COOKE

Firedance
Red Toucan # RT 9327

STEVE LACY/JOËLLE LÉANDRE
One More Time
Leo Records CD LR 422

Partnerships new and old, each of these fine CDs feature French bassist Joëlle Léandre bonding musically with an American. Both prove that the versatile Paris-based low-pitched string player can adapt and amplify unique timbres produced by other players who have little in common besides birthplace.

Fittingly each was recorded outside the United States. On ONE MORE TIME, her main man is the late soprano saxophonist Steve Lacy, with the CD recorded in Brussels during one of the longtime expatriate’s farewell to Europe concerts before he relocated to Boston. FIREDANCE finds the bull fiddler at the Guelph (Ontario) Jazz Festival matching licks with Bay-area violinist India Cooke. Léandre’s longtime experience with outside string slingers like Lisbon’s Carlos Zingaro makes her the perfect foil for Cooke, who has played with advanced bassists like Canadian Lisle Ellis. Both also worked with trombonist George Lewis.

Poignant, especially after you hear Lacy’s complimentary telephone message to Léandre that is its final track, the CD is doubly valuable because it’s one of the saxman’s final documents before his death in 2004. But after a half-century as an improviser Lacy was no sentimentalist. He praises the duo work because he knows how good it is.

One of the reasons the French bassist with the classical background and the dyed-in-the-wool American Free Jazzman worked so well together was a shared understanding of performance and links to their respective instruments. Part of “One More Time 3”, for instance, features Léandre’s skewed bass licks introduced by a bit of music hall-like scat singing. The fit is perfect as is Lacy’s half-sung/half-spoken exhortation for “one more time” at the beginning of the tune. More vaudeville than concert hall, its very cadences mirror his distinctive gravelly horn chirps when he finally concentrates on the saxophone.

Someone who never lost sight of the song form, as benefits a discipline of Thelonious Monk, there are points in this recital that you swear there’s a show tune lurking somewhere inside Lacy’s improvisation. This tendency and so much more is displayed on the more-than-32-minute first track.

Ricocheting between broken octaves and double counterpoint, the two musicians finesse a collection of repeated notes, slurs, squirming vibrations, trills and slides. When he modulates towards coloratura, she stands her ground with staccato sweeps. Should he sideslip and flutter-tongue, she retorts with sul tasto patterning and by striking the bass’s ribs and belly. Following a few duck-like quacks he fades into the background at midpoint, allowing her to use tremolo multiphonics to involve all her strings in steady architectural motions. Returning to the fray, tooting and triple-tonguing, the reedist’s tongue stops and trills are backed with sul tasto bowing that creates extra textural graininess. Eventually his falsetto cries bring forth sul ponticello stopping from her lowest strings, as the two finally resolve the piece with a simultaneous climax.

If despite the gaps, ONE MORE TIME seems all of a part, then FIREDANCE is definitely divided into seven sections. Also despite the early hour – the concert began at 10:30 a.m.– and unlike the bittersweet Lacy meeting, the Cooke- Léandre get-together was so celebratory, that the fiddler was emboldened to try tap dancing on the polished wooden floor at the beginning of track five.

More evenly matched than the bassist and saxophonist, the two players not only produce every sort of string permutations, but are moved to verbalization every so often. Cooke’s vocal expressions at one point resemble shamanistic speaking-in-tongues, while Léandre’s could be cattle drive wrangler whoops.

Individually, their techniques run from bumble bee-like spiccato chording from the violinist to sonorous, wide-ranging sweeps and plucks from the double bassist. Together the expansions can move from staccato runs to basso construction that appears to involve the instruments’ tail pieces as much as the lower-pitched strings. Comfortable with one another, often both apply enough torque to their strings so that the resulting timbres concentrate into dense polyharmony. Additionally, when Léandre vibrates her instrument’s highest points and Cooke’s her axe’s lowest, distinguishing one from the other is nearly impossible.

Remaining a European, the bassist, who always insists that she’s never played “jazz” is linked to Continental New music when she stops her upper partials to create multiphonics. Conversely, when the fiddler implies different textures, they’re definitely American – her pizzicato strums are as deliberate as are those from a Bluegrass banjo picker. Similarly, when lyrical arco cadenzas slide down the scale to become bravura blues runs, the styling of jug-band fiddlers like Butch Cage comes to mind.

Since their initial Guelph encounter Cooke and Léandre have had several more musical meetings, with this CD severing as a high-class calling card. Although Léandre will never play with Lacy again, at least we have the other CD to remember their classy teamwork.

--Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Firedance: 1. Firedance 1 2. Firedance 2 3.Firedance 3 4. Firedance 5. Firedance 6. Firedance 6 7. Firedance 7

Personnel: Firedance: India Cooke (violin); Joëlle Léandre (bass)

Track Listing: One: 1. One More Time 1 2. One More Time 2 3. One More Time 3 4. Phone message

Personnel: One: Steve Lacy (soprano saxophone); Joëlle Léandre (bass)

November 7, 2005

STEVE LACY

The Beat Suite
Sunnyside/Enja SSC 3012

DEEP LISTENING BAND/JOE MCPHEE QUARTET
Unquenchable Fire
Deep Listening DL 19-2003

Blending music and texts -- either poetry or prose -- has never been a particularly easy task, especially when the music involved is improvised. Yet for the past 50 years at least, variations of the concept have been tried with various degrees of success.

Among his other sonic inquiries, soprano saxophonist Steve Lacy has turned his hand to text-based material for many years; he has been able to utilize the voice of his partner Irene Aebi as his speaker/vocalist since the late 1960s. THE BEAT SUITE is his most recent grapple with the concept -- and one that is particularly apt. The words, which intermingle with the music here, were written by 10 of the most accomplished Beat versifiers. All had or have an affinity for improvised music and most were known personally by either Lacy or Abei.

Iconoclastic Pauline Oliveros is another all-out experimenter, but from the so-called classical aide of the divide. Justly celebrated for her early experiments with microtonalism and electroacoustics, she has in recent years concentrated on her unique theory of Deep Listening, embracing structured improvisation, and begun regularly collaborating with non-academic improvisers such as bassist Barre Phillips, percussionist Susie Ibarra, and on this CD, multi-instrumentalist Joe McPhee.

Basically, the three members of Oliveros’ Deep Listening band and the members of McPhee’s quartet singly and together take turns musically commenting on the images suggested by Rachel Pollack’s prize-winning speculative fiction novel, Unquenchable Fire. During the course of the five tracks, Pollack herself reads excerpts from the book. These are amplified by sounds from Stuart Dempster’s trombone and didjeridu, David Gamper’s flutes, keyboard and electronics plus Oliveros on accordion. McPhee on soprano saxophone, alto clarinet and Casio digital horn, his longtime associate Joe Giardullo on flute, bass clarinet plus cellist Monica Wilson on cello and drummer Karen Jurgens are featured as well.

Musically the results are striking; vocally a little less so. While the imagery of Pollack’s utopian feminist fable is imposing, her curiously flat, sometimes stumbling delivery suggests that perhaps a trained actor or singer would better have expressed her thoughts. Luckily the suppositional notions are enough to launch nonpareil improvisations.

The 3rd Movement, for instance, purports to be a true history of the city of Poughkeepsie, N.Y., coincidentally McPhee’s hometown. Pollock’s tale involves the town’s creation by 12-foot giants who changed colors according to the seasons and, after a catastrophe, shrunk the inhabitants who were visited by travelers from a multi-tiered UFO who landed and helped the townsfolk build homes and set up a government. The fable encourage the woodwind players to introduce discordant Albert Ayler-style type multiphonics, which are soon battling for space with legit, legato cello line.

Soon the squeals fade into a one solid quivering mass as McPhee and Giardullo begin vocalizing from within their horns’ body tubes. Joined by plunger tones from Dempster’s trombone, the Casio-inflected Bronx cheers, shorter squeaks from the other reed and irregular drum beats, begins to resemble an approximation of a conversation between mechanized dwarfs and outer space denizens. Adding to this combination of rustic Americana and otherworldliness are irregular, double-quick, Silent Movie house electronic keyboard chords, where high-frequency vibrations echo other vibrations, and what could result from slowing down a scratched LP of circus music. As McPhee’s Aylerian soprano moves centre stage, wildly offbeat drumming and cartoon-like mouse peeps erupt around him.

An earlier movement that references birds, ashes and children’s fingers, which turn to sticks to beat away time, is amplified with didjeridu pitches which appear to be moving through a cistern. As their textures become more craggy and distant, wiccan-like accordion key frights mix it up with growling animalistic tones and vocalized syllables being electronically swabbed through the Aboriginal horn and flute. Soon these tiny segments of chirping flute and accordion pitches reconstitute themselves into a solid, oscillating, single sound mass, midway between the experiments of Tony Conrad and AMM.

Other interconnections are less obtuse. A revolution predicting horse who tells his tale to two women from Cleveland -- Ayler’s hometown, by the way -- calls forth straightforward whinnying from the soprano sax, then bass clarinet curls that follow the sax lines like colts chase after one another in a field, and is amplified by woodblock clip-clops. Later, when Pollack’s description of a subway ride turns to a voyage of visionary content, the emotion is amplified by a single crimped flute line that melds with bowed cello lines and expanded accordion keyboard colors. By the time a caramel-smooth clarinet line succeeds this, the sound is almost too romantically pastoral.

More manifestly the verbalization of the title in the 4th Movement brings forth an undulating massed sonic outpouring from horns and keyboards closely akin to what Sun Ra called a space chord. Supplanted by s a romantic cello interlude and a trilling soprano sax line, outlined by distant cymbal pops and board smashing crashes, tiny, nervous Balkan-sounding squeeze box tones enter the sound field along with what could be the parody of a keyboard exercise. As the tone shards accumulate into a dense, resonating line, low frequency piano glissandos and Casio-created slide whistle bird chirps flit-in-and-around the solid tone as outer space-like whooshes end the piece.

Much more down to earth, even when personalizing idiosyncratic symbolism is turned into an art song-like display, THE BEAT SUITE also has its drawbacks related to its non-instrumental portions. Lacy warns from the top that “This is highfalutin’ material. It’s not for everybody.” Yet the 10 interpretations sometimes seem to further muddy characteristic prose.

Abei has the not completely enviable task of “singing” free verse, sometimes with phrases or entire poems repeated for emphasis, and with her voice usually in concert with Lacy’s improvisations. The end result frequently fails to adequately demarcate poems that are serious and those that are humorous. Too many of the tracks sound too similar, while Abei’s British-accented, high-pitched readings can remove the meanings of the words.

This is especially unfortunate on “In the Pocket”, since Anne Waldman and Andrew Shelling’s words are rife with jazz references from song titles to the namechecking of saxophonist Art Pepper. Happily Abei makes no attempt at jazzy scat singing, nor do the horns start quoting jazz riffs, but the steady walking bass line from Jacques Avenel and characteristic boppish bomb dropping from drummer John Betsch cry out for a clearer verbal acknowledgement of the theme.

When it comes to personalizing “Jack’s Blues”, a poem by Robert Creeley, who has had empathy with jazz -- and jazz musicians -- for decades, the quartet gets together to play a real blues behind Abei. This comes complete with horn riffs, a curt shuffle from the drummer and pizzicato picks from the bassist.

Lacy’s tart tone and trombonist George Lewis’ higher pitched, lustrous plunger work can’t really bring enough life to Bob Kaufman’s “Private Sadness”, the longest and slowest moving of the poems And Abei’s non-American accent really does her in here.

Much more palatable are the tunes when you can ignore the lyrics and hear her voice as merely a third part of the front line. This is particularly effective on Lew Welch’s “A Ring of Bone”, where her accented rolling “r”s create musical onomatopoeia. Of course the real show is the Lewis and Lacy act. Here, for instance, the trombonist first slides down to mid-tempo notes then squeezed up to soprano range to introduce Lacy.

Much more emphatic is the ‘boneman’s plunger work on William S. Burroughs’ “Naked Lunch”, where his sweet tone underlines Burroughs’ brutal images. Soon his protological plunger tones, reminiscent of Quentin Jackson’s, push Lacy to buzz his reed and Betsch to emphasize press rolls and cymbal pressure. When the wah-wah timbres appear a second time they give Abei’s singing of “Who are you?” at the end an Alice in Wonderland fillip.

All and all though, Gregory Corso’s “The Mad Yak” is most transparent vocally, since the New York poet was most close to everyday speech in his writing. It’s also probably the only track that doesn’t demand the listener read the words as lyrics are being vocalized. Here, as well, Lewis shows off some hand-muted, arching tonal effects while Lacy supplies reed snorts, spetrofluctuation and mouth noises

Although the Oliveros-McPhee experiment with prose usually come across better than the Lacy-Abei poetry recreation both discs are still notable. Both should interest

those whose ardor encompasses literature as well as improvised music.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Beat: 1. Wave Lover 2. Song 3. Naked Lunch 4. Private Sadness 5. A Ring of Bone 6. The Mad Yak 7. Jack’s Blues 8. Agenda 9. In the Pocket 10. Mother Goose

Personnel: Beat: George Lewis (trombone); Steve Lacy (soprano saxophone);, Jean-Jacques Avenel (bass); John Betsch (drums); Irene Aebi (vocals)

Track Listing: Unquenchable: 1. Intro 2. 1st Movement 3. 2nd Movement 4. 3rd Movement 5. 4th Movement

Personnel: Unquenchable: Deep Listening Band: Stuart Dempster (trombone, didjeridu); David Gamper (flutes, keyboard, electronics); Pauline Oliveros (accordion); Joe McPhee Quartet: Joe McPhee (soprano saxophone, alto clarinet, Casio digital horn); Joe Giardullo (flute, bass clarinet); Monica Wilson (cello); Karen Jurgens (drums); Rachel Pollack (reading)

January 19, 2004

STEVE LACY

The Holy la
Sunnyside SSC 1120

Definitely not a misprint for the common expression “the Holy Land”, this fine trio CD takes its name from something held even more sacred by musicians: “la”, the pitch to which all instruments are almost always tuned.

During the course of these nine tracks, soprano saxophonist Steve Lacy and his associates also prove that they can do just anything they want with any variations of “la” and the other degrees of the scale most famously celebrated by Rodgers and Hammerstein in the song “Do-Re-Mi”.

During a career that stretches back more than 50 years, Lacy no doubt played many of Richard Rodgers’ tunes, but as someone who early on helped define so-called Free Jazz, for years his sonic references have long gone past common rhythm and show tunes. Indications of this on THE HOLY LA include the poetry of Robert Creeley, Mark Rothko’s paintings, African and reggae inflections, plus the music of Alban Berg and, of course, Thelonious Monk.

Proponent of Monk’s music long before it was fashionable, here his trio runs through a characteristically jaunty version of “Shuffle Boil” as it often does in live shows. Like Monk’s quartet aggregations, this version of Lacy’s band is almost perfectly aligned -- both French bassist Jean-Jacques Avenel and American drummer John Betsch have played with the saxophonist since the mid-1980s.

Also present on two tracks is Lacy’s wife, vocalist Irene Aebi. Although often treated by Lacy’s fans as a Yoko Ono to his John Lennon, she’s more of a distinctive stylist and her voice meshes with Lacy’s horn much appropriately than Ono’s voice ever did with Lennon. However Aebi’s curious intonation and delivery seems never to alter a whit, whether she’s intoning a Creeley poem put to Lacy’s music on “Inside My Head” or singing in French on “Retreat”.

Avenel, whose steady time keeping is featured throughout, acquits himself admirably however, playing sanza or thumb piano and mixing it up with Betsch’s exotic, African influenced percussion on “Clichés”, a Lacy composition written for a deceased Guinean saxophonist. More appropriately, Avenel advances the line and shows off his double stopping skill and pizzicato slides on “Blue Jay”, a portrait of Lacy’s friend of the 1960s, French bassist Jean-François Jenny-Clark.

Consummately modern, Betsch is never showy or in the way, always creating what patterns are needed at the appropriate times and even making something musical out of simple knocking and rolling on “The Door”.

What’s left to say about Lacy’s playing after all these years? The man who gave the soprano saxophone a role in modern jazz, has grown along with appreciation for his instrument and shaped the sound to his requirements -- and to others that were probably never imagined until he took up the horn. Familiar with every acre of its real estate from its mellow mid-range to its screeching top notes, his mastery is such that it appears effortless.

While he continues to experiment with different sounds and timbres, as he shows on the pieces here, his music is always embedded in the lodestone that defines jazz and improvised music.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Shuffle Boil 2. The Holy La 3. Inside My Head* Steve 4. Blue Jay 5. Flakes 6. The Wane 7. Clichés+ 8. Retreat* 9. The Door

Personnel: Steve Lacy (soprano saxophone); Jean-Jacques Avenel (bass, sanza+); John Betsch (drums); Irene Aebi (voice)*

December 22, 2003

PAOLO SORGE

Trinkle Trio
Auand AU9003

STEVE LACY/GIL EVANS
Paris Blues
Sunnyside/Owl SSC 3505

Programming a CD of jazz classics can be a mug’s game, especially if the compositions have a familiar resonance for many people. Play them too close to the originals and they sounds like imitations; make them too different and they sound like parodies.

This brand-new CD by a Mediterranean trio and a reissued disc by two American jazz masters attempt to overcome the challenge in different fashions. Although impressive, neither is 100 pert cent satisfying.

POMO to the Nth extreme, TRINKLE TRIO is supposed to be an example of “minimalistic repetitive patterns” -- according to the booklet notes -- but instead appears to be a Heavy Metal take on the music of Thelonious Monk. No jazz composition is sacrosanct, yet, while the band lead by Sicilian guitarist Paolo Sorge understands Monk’s idiosyncrasies, the members often miss the craft that underlined even his more astringent compositions.

Soprano saxophonist Steve Lacy and pianist/arranger Gil Evans were POMO almost before there was a MO(dern) -- Evans was born in 1912 and Lacy in 1934. Ironically, for a saxist who has made a career of interpreting Monk’s music, this is one of few CDs that doesn’t feature any of that pianist’s tunes. On the other hand, he and Evans -- on one of the latter’s final recordings -- turn their talents to interpretations of three Charles Mingus compositions, one by Duke Ellington and originals. Sparse and bluesy, the performances’ weaknesses arise from the fact that Evans mostly plays electric piano and that in a duo the masterful orchestral colorist is limited to being a piano-player.

A touring unit, the Trinkle Trio laid down these 13 tracks -- prologue, epilogue and 11 Monk tunes -- in 2002. To some it may seem that the majority of pieces are played too uptempo and with too conventional rhythm. Nevertheless hard thought obviously went into the interpretations. It’s just that while the trio has come up with a solution on how to deal with familiar tunes, the solution is unfortunately almost the same for each one.

A ringer -- he’s French, the other two Italian -- tuba player Michel Godard has insight into these sort of projects, having restructured ancient and/or atmospheric music in period or POMO settings with the likes of French cellist Vincent Courtois and sympathetic Italians like trumpeter Pino Minafra and percussionist Tiziano Tononi.

Percussionist Francisco Cusa, who like leader Sorge was born in Catania, but now lives in Bologna, has worked with Sicilian avant players like saxist Gianni Gebbia and created a solo sound track for a Buster Keaton film. Yet here his rhythm sounds as if its inspiration is more from Alex Van Halen and Iron Maiden’s Clive Burr than Monk favorites Art Blakey and Art Taylor.

Part of the disconnect may come from Sorge, who teaches, plays jazz and works on TV, radio and film projects. During his schooling he took master classes from John Scofield, Joe Pass and Joe Diorio among others and throughout he seems to be trying to force the pieces into a guitar mold, rather than adopting his guitar playing to Monk’s vision.

As early as “I Mean You” -- with the theme carried by Godard’s tuba -- the tune seems to have mutated into a shuffle featuring Hawaiian guitar slides. Later, the tubaist’s digressions on the theme almost wilt beneath Sorge’s distorted reverb and effects pedal, so that the result is more “Telstar” than “Thelonious”.

This Hawaiian reverb reappears on “Monk’s Mood”, with its balladic tone heavy with delay from the guitar’s bass strings. Although it shows one of the few examples of his brushwork, Cusa treats the piece as exotic nightclub fodder, with punished woodblock thwacks, whirl drum expressions and Afro-Cuban percussion.

What could be African junkeroo percussion, chunka-chunka rhythm guitar beats and an extended tuba ostinato makes its appearance on “Bye-Ya” as well. As the drummer continues hitting his cowbell, Sorge involves himself in Hard Rock-style, razor-sharp flat picking and slurred staccato riffs extended with effects pedal distortion. It’s a glimpse into what would happen if Al DiMeola and Billy Cobham ever decide to play Monk.

Putting aside the overdone arena rock guitar rasping, tremolo distortions and the time the drummer seems to suture a reggae backbeat onto another tune, the only other real disappointment is “Crepuscule with Nellie”, a tender tune Monk wrote for his wife. Using a wah-wah pedal to project slurred feedback and repetitive tones, Sorge seems to encourage Cusa to thrash different parts of his extended kit, and symbolically goose Godard’s tuba line enough so that the Frenchman appears to be taking some undignified hops away from the melody. Reverb from the guitar seems to suggest that Nellie’s twilight is in the 1960s in Haight-Ashbury with Quicksilver Messenger Service, not the 1950s in San Juan Hill with Monk.

Some experiments are more memorable, though. “Friday the 13th” works as crackling, low-pitched thematic variation, bisected by slap tonguing issuing from Godard. Cusa adds speedy paradiddles and Sorge gives up chicken scratching and reverb distortion to double the tubaist’s thematic line. “Little Rootie Tootie” is looped with some tremolo knob effects that keep the melody spiky, although the vaudeville-style drumbeats could be been lost. “Evidence” gains an expansion of time and volume as Cusa plays half-step percussion, Sorge’s volume knob distorts the undertow, and Godard vaults to his top range to squeal out grace notes.

Distribution of timbres and interpretations is much less severe on PARIS BLUES, captured in that city by musicians who first recorded together in 1957, before any of the Trinklers were born. Still the two manage to make something of the most familiar material.

“Goodbye Pork Pie Hat”, for instance -- an overrecorded ballad like Monk’s “’Round Midnight” -- is almost transformed here. Done with a funky Dr. John/Ray Charles-style beat, it’s taken andante, not at the usual dirge-like tempo. Furthermore Lacy begins with a deconstructed version of the chorus, then get into the familiar verse. Evans’ accompaniment is all splayed electric piano chords, a reminder that he had already done his investigation of Jimi Hendrix’s work and collaborated with singer Sting.

Equally impressive is their version of Mingus’ “Orange Was The Color Of Her Dress Then Blue Silk”, though at almost 15 minutes it’s a bit drawn out. Lacy distinguishes himself by weaving quotes from other Mingus pieces into his solos, while the tune provides glimpses of Evans’ expansive (real) piano work. Starting with disconnected, high frequency syncopation, he eases out the perpetual rhythm of walking bass mixed with glissandos for a semi-boogie-woogie. With cascading timbres and pounding octave runs, there are times that he sounds as if he’s quoting “Rhapsody in Blue” or some Chopinesque piano exercises.

Strummed chords and the suggestion of honky-tonk piano characterize his playing on the first version of Lacy’s “Esteem”. Featuring low frequency swing, left-handed tremolo and some pretty respectable flashing lines, he’s still no Bill Evans, which for some might be praise. More abstract here, Lacy begins with a prolonged shriek that abates into mid range, then emphasized vibrations rocket into dog whistle territory until Evans halves the tempo to encourage unison work.

On the tune’s second version the pianist sticks to jaunty tremolo and pounding offbeat harmonies. Intriguingly, as he relaxes into the piece, his time sense starts to resemble that of Monk’s, though, incredibly, he was almost a decade older than the other pianist. Unfortunately, though, at the end of the tune, there seem to be several unfocused silences and pauses that suggest that Evans was starting to show his 75 years.

More emblematic is Evans work on his own “Jelly Roll”, which links cascading monochromic piano chords with lighter-than-air soprano tones. Strangely, on this salute to Jelly Roll Morton, jazz’s first arranger of note and thus Evans direct antecedent, the pianist seems to be locked into rollicking walking bass tones, more Meade Lux Lewis boogie than Morton’s blues. Following a unison elaboration of the head by both men, the piece ends with Lacy’s thematic variations and Evans’ almost impressionistic fills.

Other tunes are mellow and a bit lightweight, especially when the electric piano shoves the improvising out of the jazz club and into the cocktail lounge.

All in all though imperfect, the work of the two veterans on PARIS BLUES shows how strong personalities can give hoary jazz standards new life. Though unique, TRINKLE TRIO works less well, since at times reconstitution of the compositions seems to negate their original intent. With this lesson internalized and his obvious technique intact, perhaps Sorge will score more unequivocally another time out with less distinct source material.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Trinkle: 1. Prologo 2. I Mean You 3. Evidence 4. Bye-Ya 5. Crepuscule with Nellie 6. Trinkle Tinkle 7. Misterioso 8. Ask Me Now 9. Monk’s Mood 10. Friday the 13th 11. Locomotive 12. Little Rootie Tootie 13. Epilogo

Personnel: Trinkle: Michel Godard (tuba); Paolo Sorge (guitar and electronics); Francesco Cusa (drums and percussion)

Track Listing: Paris: 1. Reincarnation Of A Lovebird 2. Paris Blues 3. Esteem 4. Orange Was The Color Of Her Dress Then Blue Silk 5. Goodbye Pork Pie Hat 6. Jelly Roll 7. Esteem

Personnel: Paris: Steve Lacy (soprano saxophone); Gil Evans (piano, electric piano)

November 24, 2003

STEVE LACY/RICCARDO FASSI

Dummy
Splasc (h) CDH 843.2

RICCARDO FASSI TANKIO BAND
Il Principe
Splasc (h) CDH 180.2

One of Italy’s most accomplished jazz composers, Varese-born pianist/keyboardist Riccardo Fassi, 48, divides his time between teaching, composing film scores, small combo work and his own big band, the Tankio Band, which celebrates its 20th anniversary this year.

Tugged every which way by commitments, he’s like certain of his North American counterparts who bring an admirable professionalism to many projects, but seem to lack a fervent commitment to music’s transcendent power. In the end a job is a job. This is apparent on these discs which features the pianist in different settings with committed American saxophonists.

Brand new, DUMMY, matches Fassi’s trio -- filled out by bassist Gianluca Renzi and drummer Ettore Fioravanti -- improvising alongside soprano saxophone master Steve Lacy. IL PRINCIPE, the reissue of a 1989 disc by the 10-piece Tankio Band plus guests, features tenor and soprano saxophonist Steve Grossman, an Italian favorite. But be warned, the session is very much of its time.

That time seems to be the dying days of jazz-rock fusion. Despite the album’s dedication to Neapolitan comedic improviser Totò, the emphasis appears to be on the larger projects of fusion pioneers like pianist Chick Corea and Grossman’s old boss Miles Davis, not to mention more traditional big jazz bands trying to lower their demographic appeal like Thad Jones -Mel Lewis’ and Maynard Ferguson’s.

Thus a few of the tunes are near throwaways, including “Rosso”, which sounds like it could have been written by Lalo Schifrin for a TV show, and comes complete with wiggy, disco-style percussion, a thumb-popping electric bass solo, endless conga drumming, synthesizer and electric piano immersions. Here Grossman sounds like he’s merely going through the motions, and guest flutist Riccardo Luppi’s attempts at a grittier tone are buried by the synthesizer and congas. Unexceptional too is “Aquamarina”, a low-energy bossa nova where the pleasant vocals of Joy Garrison merely add to the balladic fluffiness advanced by shaken bell tree, low frequency harp-like arpeggios from the piano and muted trumpet lines.

Grossman, whose checkered career has encompassed engagements with Davis, drummers Elvin Jones and Art Taylor and pianist Michel Petrucciani, as well as prolongued stints in Europe and South America, has never really rerouted the sophisticated musical heights of his one-time Davis and Jones sax partner Dave Liebman. Yet his soprano solo work on “Lu’s Illuminations” resembles Liebman’s more refined, legato curving lines. Although at times the band vamps like a merely competent studio group, his tenor solos on the same piece are exceptional, filled with slurs, honks and double-tonguing, and reaching a climax when he trades fours with drummer Massimo D’Agostino.

Even better is the rock-inflected first tune, a real foot tapper in the Jones-Lewis tradition that allows the tenor man to flaunt his harsh, powerful mid-period-Trane-influenced work. Fassi’s electric piano comping serves its purpose here, though the overactive electric bassist should have been reined in. Sadly longtime avant-gardist Gincarlo Schiffini’s bleats and rumbles from both tuba and trombone apparently exist in their own space on the title tune. At least Fassi’s ET-like synth colors, Sandro Satta’s squeaky Dave Sanborn-like alto work and someone’s imitation Ferguson stratospheric trumpeting don’t connect to what Schiffini is doing. Satta redeems himself with an unaccompanied cadenza in the final minutes, however, though the constantly moving orchestral backdrop can’t seem to settle on any one style.

Thelonious Monk’s “Skippy” is the bonus track added to the reissue. But while the band -- especially baritone man Torquato Sdrucia -- attack it with gusto, the Swing- style wah-wah brass and underrecording don’t help matters.

One of the world’s acknowledged Monk specialists -- Lacy -- gets the pianist and company onto the jazz track on the other disc as early as the first number, written by Fassi for the saxman. It’s stretched harmonies and bittersweet tone easily suggests Monk, especially when Lacy solos.

Divided among themes written by each band member and one group improvisation, this “dummy” appears more “princely” than the other session. But while the jazz bona fides can’t be questioned, the CD is still a little too much of a busman’s holiday for studio musicians. As good as they are, there’s really no reason outside of the guest’s politeness for each musician to solo on nearly every tune.

Highlights include “Together” the instant composition where Lacy’s tart, mewling tone gets into sopranino territory as he doubletongues and pitchslides into discordant sounds; and the title track, where Fassi’s inventiveness in the middle range provides solid strumming backing for the reedist’s bouncing, crooked time frame. The pianist’s final turnaround redefines the pieces, though Fioravanti, who also regularly plays with trumpeter Paolo Fresu and saxist Eugenio Colombo is a little too busy in response.

Still, the drummer’s finest moments come on his own “Mon Ami Attila”, a modern freebop theme that features Lacy slipsliding, followed every step of the way by walking bass and the pianist’s rolling octaves. Then there’s “Esteem”, Lacy’s tribute to Johnny Hodges, who sometimes played soprano saxophone as well as his more common alto in Duke Ellington’s band. Although Lacy produces an updated Rabbit punch, moving up the scale to a steady allegro homage after a few cadenzas, Fassi, though dramatic, doesn’t try to be the Duke, but merely keeps metronomic time with steady right handed swing. Fioravanti sticks to brushes and Renzi’s unspectacular bass solo passes before the theme is reintroduced.

Strangely -- or perhaps appropriately -- the bassist replicates Slam Stewart’s humming and bowing octaves apart in his solo on Fassi’s “Replicate”, whereas the pianist moves from a double-timed Monkish stride to Keith Jarrett-like emphasized right handed runs and glissandos. Lacy is himself.

Perhaps this individuality is the clue to the weaknesses of these discs, as swinging and technically proficient as they may be. Anything Lacy is featured on is worth owning because he has spent years establishing a singular persona. But Fassi still has to make a major individual statement to move into that same league.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Dummy: 1. Dark Water 2. Replicate 3. Dummy 4. Voci Lontane 5. Day Out of This Time 6. This is It 7. Compassion 8. Together 9. Esteem 10. Mon Ami Attila

Personnel: Dummy: Steve Lacy (soprano saxophone); Riccardo Fassi (piano); Gianluca Renzi (bass); Ettore Fioravanti (drums)

Track Listing: Principe: 1. Sammy and Bahati (theme)/Shela development)/Sammy and Bahati (final) 2. Il Principe* 3. Aquamarina^ 4. Rosso* 5. Lu’s Illuminations 6. Migno 7. Skippy

Personnel: Principe: Claudio Corvini, Aldo Bassi (trumpet); Gincarlo Schiffini (trombone and tuba)*; Sandro Satta (alto saxophone); Michel Audisso (soprano and alto saxophones); Steve Grossman (soprano and tenor saxophones); Torquato Sdrucia (baritone saxophone); Riccardo Luppi (flute)*; Riccardo Fassi (piano, keyboards); Fabio Zeppetella (electric and acoustic bass, sinth-bass); Massimo D’Agostino (drums); Alfredo Minotti (percussion); Joy Garrison (voice)^

September 1, 2003

STEVE LACY/DANIEL HUMAIR/ANTHONY COX

Work
Sketch SKE 332028

Opposite to the average person who supposedly becomes more conservative as he or she ages, improvisers seem to go in a contrary direction. In earlier times Duke Ellington and Coleman Hawkins -- to take two examples -- were still experimenting with new methods in their sixties and seventies. Today, Ornette Coleman, Cecil Taylor, Derek Bailey and Steve Lacy, all of whom are on either side of 70, are as probing in their playing as they ever were.

Take WORK, American soprano saxophonist Lacy’s newest session recorded in France with 63-year-old Swiss drummer Daniel Humair and relative young’un -- American bassist Anthony Cox. With all musicians in perfect control of their instruments, it’s as satisfying a session as Lacy has made in his almost 50 year recording career.

Secret weapon is Humair, whose experience ranges from work with (pre-fusion) Jean-Luc Ponty and Ur-bopper tenorist Johnny Griffin to Gallic experimenters like saxophonist Michel Portal and bassist Henri Texier. Except for his solos, the essence of this drummer’s art lies not so much in what he does, but what he doesn’t do. A cymbal caresser and brushes-and-fingers man par excellence, Humair’s accompaniment is so abstruse that it often seems as if the rhythm is being produced by osmosis. Cox, whose associates include saxists like Marty Ehrlich and Joe Lovano, keeps his head down as well. In fact, except for some arco noise making on one track, his contribution may be a little too low-key.

Then again, that opens up that much more space for Lacy, who recently relocated to Boston -- and the New England Conservatory -- after nearly 40 years as an expatriate. Among the 10 tunes are three by the saxophonist and two by his old friends and mentors -- pianists Mal Waldron and Thelonious Monk.

Monk’s “In Walked Bud”, which the saxophonist likely played with the piano master, or in his Monk repertory combo with trombonist Roswell Rudd in the mid-1960s, is a fairly uncomplicated tune from that canon. He uses his bristly, slipsliding vibrato to take the lead and reconfigure it in distinct obbligatos.

Waldron, one of whose final CDs was recorded barely four months before this one, with Lacy guesting on a couple of tracks, collaborated with the saxist on-and-off throughout his career. Made up of high-pitched split tones and buzzing growls, it appears that Lacy’s solo on Waldron’s “Snake Out” is even more astringent than usual. Could its abrasive tone and Cox’s solo, which manage to approximate bell-ringing tones, be heard as being funereal? Lacy keens like an inconsolable mourner and Cox suggests tolling church bells?

Elsewhere, each of the saxman’s distinctive compositions unrolls in such a way that they sound newly unfamiliar. Floated on walking bass lines and simple cymbal accents, “Tina’s Tune” features someone -- Cox perhaps -- doubling Lacy’s gliding, tongue-twisting theme as the swinging piece moves in a comfortable fashion. “Resurection”[sic], on the other hand, is a pulsating freebop number. Chirping split tones arise from the saxophonist, Cox’s stately walking bass evolves into well-elaborated arco discord, and the drummer produces the perfect pulse to back up each of its sections, whether it’s the ping of cymbals or shuffle of brushes on snares. Old enough to appreciate song construction, this “Resurection” besides being misspelled doesn’t seem to be honoring someone’s life after death as much as celebrating a straightahead melody like “The Pink Panther Theme”.

Further to this, Lacy sounds uncharacteristically jazzy on French reedman Louis Sclavis’ “Maputo”, as his sweet-sour tone and subtle slurs mix it up with Cox’s wailing bass and Humair’s bop-inflected sizzle cymbal strokes.

“Sorcelery” [sic], the drummer’s one composition and the longest piece on the CD, is also his showcase. Employing belfry-resonant, unselected cymbal tones, single beats on his bass drum and floor tom, Humair sets up a main theme that is commented on by Lacy in duck-like, double tongued polyrythms. Using a phlegmatic tone, the saxman not only spits strangled notes all over the music, but their overtones as well. In response the drummer counters with cross sticking on his snare and toms.

An exceptional demonstration of jazz as an old man’s art, WORK can be enjoyed by any improv fan.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Bois d’arbe 2. Snake Out 3. Tina’s Tune 4. Oldenburg Bed 5. Resurection 6. Acrylic 7. Maputo 8. Sorcelery 9. The Crust 10. In Walked Bud

Personnel: Steve Lacy (soprano saxophone); Anthony Cox (bass); Daniel Humair (drums)

May 12, 2003

STEVE LACY

10 of Dukes + 6 Originals
Senators Records SEN-01

Approaching a mixed program of 10 familiar Duke Ellington compositions and six originals would be a provocative venture for any musician. Doing the whole thing on solo soprano saxophone should be even more daunting. But 68-year-old Steve Lacy has been going against the grain for almost half a century, so one more challenge doesn’t faze him.

Initially attracted to the soprano after hearing Sidney Bechet playing Ellington’s “The Mooche”, a variation of which is rhythmically deconstructed on this fine disc, Lacy soon moved from Dixieland to the avant garde in the company of pianist Cecil Taylor in the mid-1950s. Unclassifiable since then, Lacy who recently returned to the United States after three decades in France, has played in many countries of the world and with the equivalent of several symphony orchestras worth of musicians. He has been associated with musicians as different as jazzers Thelonious Monk and trumpeter Don Cherry, classical composer/pianist Frederic Rzewski and Euro improvisers, guitarist Derek Bailey and pianist Misha Mengelberg. He organized repertory bands before they were fashionable, was allied with the New Thing but never part of it, early on allied songs and spoken work with improvised music, and has lead a series of impressive French-based sextets and trios over the past 20 years.

Lacy was also a pioneer in giving solo concerts. This one, recorded at the Egg Farm concert space in Japan, is the most recent example of his mature musical preeminence.

By necessity the ducal material, which dates in the main, from Ellington’s developing oeuvre of the 1920s, 1930s and 1940s, retains the familiar melodies, but is somewhat recomposed using extended techniques like polytones, smears, kisses and extreme glissandi. “Koko”, for instance is all tongue slaps and guttural growls until Lacy begins limning the familiar theme rubato in a higher register. “Azure” seems to expand in the horn from a region just short of his large intestine, with a high-pitched recapitulation of the melody in the middle. “Cottontail” and “In A Mellow Tone”, on the other hand are treated straightforwardly enough with only a hint of torqued glissando, though intimations of other Ellington tones are suggested by the later.

Meanwhile his moderato trilling version of “Portrait of Bert Williams” seems to sum up the descriptive tune at almost the same length as the original Barney Bigard’s halting speech-like clarinet and the underlying pathos of Tricky Sam Nanton’s trombone did in the original.

The six originals are a different matter. Inspired by distinct personages including singer Stevie Wonder, novelist Herman Melville and philosopher Lazo-Tzu, the saxophonist reins in his variations here, relying in the main on mid-range, tasteful harmonies. “The Breath” for Tzu does engender repetition and extended trills, while surpassingly, “Art”, for Melville, suggests some lines that resemble French bal musette. Briefly Lacy introduces the final track, reciting Ryokan’s Zen epigrams that inspired him. The performance, built on soaring bird-like cadences, slides up and down the scale with differentiated tones to mark the shift from one section to another.

A vital addition to the expansive Lacy catalogue, this CD, which can only be obtained through the Internet at www.senatorsrecords.com, should be welcomed by fans of Lacy, the saxophone or just plain improvised music lovers.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. In a Mellow Tone 2. The Mooche 3. Morning Glory 4. Prelude to a kiss 5. Portrait of Bert Williams 6. Azure 7. Cottontail 8. In a Sentimental Mood 9. Koko 10. To the Bitter 11. Art 12. Gospel 13. On a Midnight Kick 14. Wave Lover 15. The Breath 16. Traces*

Personnel: Steve Lacy (soprano saxophone, recitation*)

November 11, 2002

BILL DIXON/FRANZ KOGLMANN/STEVE LACY

Opium
between the lines btl 011/EFA 10181-2

Recorded in 1973, 1975 and 1976, these early glimpses into the mind of Austrian brassman Franz Koglmann surprisingly show him still wedded to an American free jazz conception, though his own ideas are starting to come through as well.

Or perhaps it shouldn't be that astonishing, considering that American soprano saxophonist Steve Lacy is present on most tracks. Additionally, the more than 17 minute "For Franz", initially released in a limited edition of 500 with hand painted covers, features Koglmann's early influence, trumpeter Bill Dixon and two other Americans.

One of them, bassist Alan Silva is able to function like an entire string section by himself, soloing powerfully both arco and pizzicato, and easily able to make himself heard over the three horn line-up. The third, tenor saxophonist Steve Horenstein -- who has since moved to Israel -- offers up nervous reed asides to maintain his place between what is frequently unison work from both brassmen. Written by Dixon, the intense composition seems to function more as a summation the historical accomplishments of the Manhattan-based New Thing than a Eurocentric groundbreaker.

The earlier tunes featuring Lacy that surround "For Franz", find Koglmann in even more of an apprenticeship role. Pieces written by the flugelhornist like "Carmilla" and "Bowery 2", with their staccato walking bass lines, solo drum breaks, legato phrasing, theme and variation structure are unabashed modern swingers. If anything the front line strongly resembles the quartet with Don Cherry that Lacy recorded with in 1961.

Even those tunes featuring Gerd Geier's electronics seem to refer more to the 1950s Space Age modernistic sounds pioneered by the likes of George Russell and several West Coast composers. Not yet integrated into the structure of the compositions as they would in later European outings, the treatments call so much attention to themselves that you wonder if they escaped from Sun Ra and migrated over to this session.

Also on show is sound for sound sake, especially on Lacy's "Flaps" which contains some saxophone reed squeals, a few brass mouthpiece kisses, what sounds like a bicycle horn and a steady drum -- or is it electronics -- tapping at the end.

If you're looking for a new look at Koglmann -- and unjustly "lost" excellent work from two American masters -- head out to find OPIUM. It will only be addictive in that it will encourage you to find other sessions by these artists.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Der Vogel/Opium 2. Carmilla 3. For Franz 4. Flops 5. Bowery 1 6. Bowery 2. 7. Flaps

Personnel: Franz Koglmann (trumpet, flugelhorn); with [track 3] Bill Dixon (trumpet); Steve Horenstein (tenor saxophone); Alan Silva (bass); Walter Malli (percussion); [tracks 1,2] Steve Lacy (soprano saxophone); Josef Traindl (trombone); Cesarius Alvim Botelho (bass); Aldo Romano (drums); [tracks 4-7] Lacy; Toni Michlmayr (bass); Malli; Gerd Geier (electronics)

April 29, 2001

DEREK BAILEY/STEVE LACY

Outcome
Potlatch P299

If any two musicians can be said to be the "fathers" of the European free jazz/improv, then the two represented on this thought-provoking session could claim the title(s).

In actuality British guitarist Bailey and American saxophonist Lacy would likely opt for the inclusion of a gang of other Continental and British improvisers, but it's they who set the standard for non-idiomatic playing and have more-or-less stayed true to it ever since.

Lacy, jazz's first modern soprano saxist had already been a valuable addition to the ensembles of leaders as individualist as Thelonious Monk, Ornette Coleman and Cecil Taylor before a more sympathetic climate drew him to Europe in the mid-1960s. Since then, from his Paris base he has mixed and matched his talents with improvisers of every stripe, country and temperament, while never losing sight of his jazz roots. Along with such quirky experiments as creating settings for poetics and perfecting the solo saxophone recital, he's still managed to put out discs celebrating such giants as Monk, Ellington and Herbie Nichols.

Bailey, a former dance band and studio guitarist found his salvation first in so-called free jazz, then very quickly contributed to the gestalt that birthed the British branch of Euroimprov. An organizer of the Company, improv free-for-alls, Bailey will play with nearly any musician who walks through the door. And since the late 1960s that has included everyone from traditional American jazzers and "serious" composers to interpretive dancers and metallic noise bands.

Yet no matter what goes on around him, the playing of Bailey --who insists that every musical moment be improvised -- remains unequivocally the same. The non-idiomatic plinks plunks and single-note scratches he gets from his instrument aren't compromised whether his partner is Pat Metheny or DJ Soulslinger.

That's what makes this 1983 Paris session so valuable. For among the hundreds of discs Bailey and Lacy have collectively recorded, very few have been in one another's company. Be warned, though, this isn't a standard duet. Instead it's the creation of two simultaneous soloists whose conception is so convincing that the adventurous listener's ear can follow one or the other without disorientation.

Overall, the five listed tracks dissolve one into another. During OUTCOME's more than the more than 60 minutes, Lacy can be thorny, squeaky and sour for a time, then dulcet and breathy. Meanwhile Bailey's notes resonate as he alternately strums, picks and slides. Sometimes one or the other drops out for a section.

If bare bones improv is your passion, search high and low for this session. If you're less sure of that taste, but be would like to experience the work of uncompromising modern masters first hand give this CD a try as well. The outcome may be different from what you imagine.

-Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Input #1 2. Input #2 3. Input #3 4. Input #4 5. Input #5

Personnel: Derek Bailey (guitar); Steve Lacy (soprano saxophone)

April 22, 2000