Fred Anderson Trio

Birthday Live 2000
Asian Improv AIR “Official Bootleg”

Fred Anderson Quartet

Live at the Velvet Lounge Volume III

Asian Improv AIR 0074

Fred Anderson

Staying in the Game

Engine e029

Fred Anderson

21st Century Chase

Delmark DE 589

Consistency of expression is what has characterized the playing of Chicago tenor saxophonist Fred Anderson over the years. Furthermore, unlike many other musicians, there hasn’t been a subsequent lessening of his powers as he ages. As a matter of fact, now that he’s reached the venerable age of 80, his improvisational skills are at an exalted peak. Listen to these CDs for proof. They were recorded not only at Anderson’s 80th Birthday Bash, but when he was a comparative youngster of 79, 78 and even 71.

A founding member of the Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians, who recorded sparingly between the late 1960s and mid-1990s, Anderson has nurtured some of Chicago’s younger talents both by gigging with them, as well as giving them a place to play in his now legendary Velvet Lounge. Those years out of the limelight also created an idiosyncratic soloist, who – like Sonny Rollins and Eric Dolphy before him – now possesses an unmistaken reed texture whose sharp split tones carve a unique niche in every tune. Not only does the sax man put a lie to the cliché that “jazz is a young man’s art”, but he also proves that when they age jazzman don’t have to be cuddly and comfortable like Doc Cheatham or Eubie Blake. Additionally, as he demonstrates in four contexts here, stamina, innovation and sonic color aren’t the preserve of any generation. His playing can be threatening to saxophonists of any age.

Over the years Anderson has developed a tight coterie of associates, with many turning up on these discs. The oldest session, Birthday Live 2000, is a trio CD with bassist Tatsu Aoki and drummer Chad Taylor. Seven years later, with Live at the Velvet Lounge Volume III, Taylor and Aoki are still on board and tenor saxophonist Francis Wong joins the trio. Staying in the Game – an understatement if there ever was one when Anderson is concerned – from 2008, features him with bassist Harrison Bankhead and drummer Tim Daisy. Finally 21st Century Chase from 2009, retains Bankhead, brings back Taylor and adds guitarist Jeff Parker and tenor saxophonist Kidd Jordan – the later five years Anderson’s junior – whose tenure on the New Orleans scene is roughly analogous to Anderson’s in Chicago.

Anderson’s mature style is much in evidence as early as the first track on Birthday Live 2000. Both incendiary and knife-sharp, his carved-up timbres partition still further as he churns out double-and-triple tongued trills plus jagged Woody Woodpecker-like bites. Rappelling from just below the ligature down through the bow to the bell of his horn and back up again, the saxophonist’s glissandi radiate every which way. His explorations are backed by slapping bass strings plus opposite sticking and cross pulsing from Taylor.

Indefatigable and seemingly never at a lack for ideas – or breath, Anderson brings the same toughness to the third tune, which for all intents and purposes resembles a blues-flecked ballad. After an a capella intro from the tenorist, Aoki’s vibrating and quavering bass line moulds itself around Anderson’s rasping notes as the narrative is lengthened with emphasized phraseology and half-recognizable quotes from other tunes.

Flash forward eight years, and while Anderson has maintained his form, his playing is mellower. Bankhead’s supple walking now explores additional peaks and valleys in his accompaniment, while Daisy’s rolls, pops and bass drum kicks are as sturdy as Anderson’s solos. With the sidemen proficient players on other instruments as well as their own, intimations of other textures – if not the instruments themselves – show up on several tracks.

You could swear for instance that kalimba plucks are pressed into service on “Wandering”, or that Bankhead – who plays the six-string – has added guitar licks to his backing as well. Still the saxophone lines are moderato and unstrained, languid enough to indulge in an interlude of parlando, seconded by Bankhead’s unforced bass strokes. Similarly Daisy’s mallet-driven pulses on “Changes and Bodies and Tones” border on marimba textures as the bassist’s sul ponticello squeaks are moderated mid-range. Summing up the situation, Anderson builds his solo with pointillism, elongating and expanding note dabs and smears into a cohesive whole.

Mellow, yet still tough in his outings, the saxophonist manages to stretch tones almost to the breaking point, without ever severing the thematic thread. If he overblows while vibrating his horn’s metal, as he does on “60 Degrees in November”, the supplementary intervals and vibrations are perfectly balanced as they’re masticated with bites and tongue slaps. Chromatic improvisations from all hold everything together.

This relaxed, yet bellicose command is maintained when facing off against another tenor man, as Anderson does on the last two discs. No one plays for almost 70 years without devising strategies for different situations. Recorded at 2007’s Chicago Asian Jazz Festival, Live at the Velvet Lounge Volume III, for instance, allows the veteran tenor saxophonist to maintain his parameters throughout.

Case in point is a tune such as “Beyond the Bridge”. The head is sounded by Anderson’s harsh, irregular vibrato, then echoed with similar – but more accommodating – tones from Wong’s sax. Gritty, with reed bites and tongue stops, the two aurally march in unison with Taylor’s sticks flying into ruffs and rebounds and Aoki stop-start bass thumps. At times Wong, whose timbre is thinner than Anderson’s, could be playing “Hickory, Dickory Dock” as he operates in double counterpoint to the older saxophonist. That is until the drummer’s double-timed ratamacues and the bassist’s vibrating strings push Anderson to unleash his idiosyncratic stabbing pitches which are then answered by jagged, staccato octaves from the younger saxophonist.

An equivalent tart interface occurs on “Positive Changes”. However the impetus for Anderson and Wong combining for a series of tongue flutters and split tones which modulate up the scale with rubato intonation is some impressive bass work from Aoki. Moving beyond sul ponticello to a strained, near-vocalized pitch, the bassist descends the scale while sounding every string simultaneously.

The scene had been set with “Andersonville”, where each player stakes out his individual musical turf. Aoki’s thumps and pumps, Taylor’s whapping snares and cymbal vibrations plus the lockstep reed-biting and sonic curves from the saxophonists kick in almost as soon as Anderson sounds his signature ferocious cry. From then on Anderson appears to pushing and prodding every musical tone he can find in as many varied angles as he can – and Wong does the same. Steaming ahead, the two build up a polyphonic head of steam, double and triple-tonguing, appending connective arpeggios and sluicing vamps. Crumbling the lines to fine musical powder, the simultaneous staccato spewing never completely obliterates the piece’s musical shape.

Two years later Anderson’s 80th birthday bash at the new Velvet Lounge, not far from the old location, and featuring 75-year-old Jordan as well, was no exercise in nostalgia. The only bow to the past is that the two-part title tune reflects comparable tough tenor battles of the 1940s and 1950s. Adherents of the style were Sonny Stitt and Gene Ammons and most pointedly Dexter Gordon and Wardell Gray “The Chase”. However sharp ears will notice that by the end of the almost hour long improv here, both John Colrane and Johnny Griffin have been nodded to as well.

No exercise in neo-con nostalgia, this “Chase” announces its modernity from the top: a capella squeaks and squeals in altissimo variants played by Jordan with vocal exhortations and hard air expelling. Anderson counters with a “Pop Goes the Weasel” theme, Taylor and Bankhead hit, Parker twangs – and the chase is on. Jordan, a horse-raising aficionado, uses smears, clipped notes and effective glossolalia to take the lead as Anderson canters besides him with lower-pitched contrapuntal runs. Neck and neck, Jordan’s tone is more splintered and almost in the alto range while Anderson’s growls are practically moderato in comparison. Taylor’s ruffs and flams plus Bankhead’s walking stay back on the track, while Parker’s knob-twisting licks and abrasive twanging provide the equivalent of a spur to a horse’s flanks.

Eventually as diaphragm-vibrated timbres, elastic tonal interpolations and ragged split tones rend the air, both tenor men reach an extended rapprochement. Agitato and staccatissimo, neither can best the other – if that ever was the intention – and each maintains his distinctive identity. Getting to the point where each finishes each other’s phrases, a coda includes Jordan’s nod to Griffin via a quote from “Wade in the Water” and Anderson to Coltrane with a snatch of “A Love Supreme”. The finale showcases perfect parlando double counterpoint.

Bankhead’s sul ponticello introduction of the second part spectacularly exposes both the root notes and their fundamentals, but this pacific interlude soon gives way to more reed flaunting, taken chromatically or in broken octaves. Here and throughout the rest of the CD, the heavily vibrated multiphonic reed runs shares space with the guitarist’s curvaceous strums plus an occasional clank and click from the drummer. With Trane’s “Cousin Mary” and “Giant Steps” alluded to, the two wrap up the exciting essay in impov by honoring their direct influence as well as their tenor forefathers.

An equivalent chase in the future from others would undoubtedly have to touch on the saxophone advances of Anderson himself. From the originator, however, most of are exhibited in multi-faceted examples on these four discs.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 21st: 1. 21st Century Chase Part I 2. 21st Century Chase Part II 3. Ode to Alvin Fielder

Personnel: 21st: Fred Anderson and Kidd Jordan (tenor saxophones); Jeff Parker (guitar); Harrison Bankhead (bass) and Chad Taylor (drums)

Track Listing: Birthday: 1. 22:40 2. 13:14 3. 14:24

Personnel: Birthday: Fred Anderson (tenor saxophone; Tatsu Aoki (bass) and Chad Taylor (drums)

Track Listing: Staying: 1. Sunday Afternoon 2. The Elephant and the Bee 3. 60 Degrees in November 4. Wandering 5. Springing Winter 6. Changes and Bodies and Tones

Personnel: Staying: Fred Anderson (tenor saxophone; Harrison Bankhead (bass) and Tin Daisy (drums)

Track Listing: Live: 1. Andersonville 2. Acceleration 3. Beyond the Bridge 4. Positive Changes 5. Best Time of Life 6. Discreet Identifier

Personnel: Live: Fred Anderson and Francis Wong (tenor saxophones); Tatsu Aoki (bass) and Chad Taylor (drums)

December 17, 2009

Fred Anderson

Staying in the Game
Engine e029

Fred Anderson Quartet

Live at the Velvet Lounge Volume III

Asian Improv AIR 0074

Fred Anderson Trio

Birthday Live 2000

Asian Improv AIR “Official Bootleg”

Fred Anderson

21st Century Chase

Delmark DE 589

Consistency of expression is what has characterized the playing of Chicago tenor saxophonist Fred Anderson over the years. Furthermore, unlike many other musicians, there hasn’t been a subsequent lessening of his powers as he ages. As a matter of fact, now that he’s reached the venerable age of 80, his improvisational skills are at an exalted peak. Listen to these CDs for proof. They were recorded not only at Anderson’s 80th Birthday Bash, but when he was a comparative youngster of 79, 78 and even 71.

A founding member of the Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians, who recorded sparingly between the late 1960s and mid-1990s, Anderson has nurtured some of Chicago’s younger talents both by gigging with them, as well as giving them a place to play in his now legendary Velvet Lounge. Those years out of the limelight also created an idiosyncratic soloist, who – like Sonny Rollins and Eric Dolphy before him – now possesses an unmistaken reed texture whose sharp split tones carve a unique niche in every tune. Not only does the sax man put a lie to the cliché that “jazz is a young man’s art”, but he also proves that when they age jazzman don’t have to be cuddly and comfortable like Doc Cheatham or Eubie Blake. Additionally, as he demonstrates in four contexts here, stamina, innovation and sonic color aren’t the preserve of any generation. His playing can be threatening to saxophonists of any age.

Over the years Anderson has developed a tight coterie of associates, with many turning up on these discs. The oldest session, Birthday Live 2000, is a trio CD with bassist Tatsu Aoki and drummer Chad Taylor. Seven years later, with Live at the Velvet Lounge Volume III, Taylor and Aoki are still on board and tenor saxophonist Francis Wong joins the trio. Staying in the Game – an understatement if there ever was one when Anderson is concerned – from 2008, features him with bassist Harrison Bankhead and drummer Tim Daisy. Finally 21st Century Chase from 2009, retains Bankhead, brings back Taylor and adds guitarist Jeff Parker and tenor saxophonist Kidd Jordan – the later five years Anderson’s junior – whose tenure on the New Orleans scene is roughly analogous to Anderson’s in Chicago.

Anderson’s mature style is much in evidence as early as the first track on Birthday Live 2000. Both incendiary and knife-sharp, his carved-up timbres partition still further as he churns out double-and-triple tongued trills plus jagged Woody Woodpecker-like bites. Rappelling from just below the ligature down through the bow to the bell of his horn and back up again, the saxophonist’s glissandi radiate every which way. His explorations are backed by slapping bass strings plus opposite sticking and cross pulsing from Taylor.

Indefatigable and seemingly never at a lack for ideas – or breath, Anderson brings the same toughness to the third tune, which for all intents and purposes resembles a blues-flecked ballad. After an a capella intro from the tenorist, Aoki’s vibrating and quavering bass line moulds itself around Anderson’s rasping notes as the narrative is lengthened with emphasized phraseology and half-recognizable quotes from other tunes.

Flash forward eight years, and while Anderson has maintained his form, his playing is mellower. Bankhead’s supple walking now explores additional peaks and valleys in his accompaniment, while Daisy’s rolls, pops and bass drum kicks are as sturdy as Anderson’s solos. With the sidemen proficient players on other instruments as well as their own, intimations of other textures – if not the instruments themselves – show up on several tracks.

You could swear for instance that kalimba plucks are pressed into service on “Wandering”, or that Bankhead – who plays the six-string – has added guitar licks to his backing as well. Still the saxophone lines are moderato and unstrained, languid enough to indulge in an interlude of parlando, seconded by Bankhead’s unforced bass strokes. Similarly Daisy’s mallet-driven pulses on “Changes and Bodies and Tones” border on marimba textures as the bassist’s sul ponticello squeaks are moderated mid-range. Summing up the situation, Anderson builds his solo with pointillism, elongating and expanding note dabs and smears into a cohesive whole.

Mellow, yet still tough in his outings, the saxophonist manages to stretch tones almost to the breaking point, without ever severing the thematic thread. If he overblows while vibrating his horn’s metal, as he does on “60 Degrees in November”, the supplementary intervals and vibrations are perfectly balanced as they’re masticated with bites and tongue slaps. Chromatic improvisations from all hold everything together.

This relaxed, yet bellicose command is maintained when facing off against another tenor man, as Anderson does on the last two discs. No one plays for almost 70 years without devising strategies for different situations. Recorded at 2007’s Chicago Asian Jazz Festival, Live at the Velvet Lounge Volume III, for instance, allows the veteran tenor saxophonist to maintain his parameters throughout.

Case in point is a tune such as “Beyond the Bridge”. The head is sounded by Anderson’s harsh, irregular vibrato, then echoed with similar – but more accommodating – tones from Wong’s sax. Gritty, with reed bites and tongue stops, the two aurally march in unison with Taylor’s sticks flying into ruffs and rebounds and Aoki stop-start bass thumps. At times Wong, whose timbre is thinner than Anderson’s, could be playing “Hickory, Dickory Dock” as he operates in double counterpoint to the older saxophonist. That is until the drummer’s double-timed ratamacues and the bassist’s vibrating strings push Anderson to unleash his idiosyncratic stabbing pitches which are then answered by jagged, staccato octaves from the younger saxophonist.

An equivalent tart interface occurs on “Positive Changes”. However the impetus for Anderson and Wong combining for a series of tongue flutters and split tones which modulate up the scale with rubato intonation is some impressive bass work from Aoki. Moving beyond sul ponticello to a strained, near-vocalized pitch, the bassist descends the scale while sounding every string simultaneously.

The scene had been set with “Andersonville”, where each player stakes out his individual musical turf. Aoki’s thumps and pumps, Taylor’s whapping snares and cymbal vibrations plus the lockstep reed-biting and sonic curves from the saxophonists kick in almost as soon as Anderson sounds his signature ferocious cry. From then on Anderson appears to pushing and prodding every musical tone he can find in as many varied angles as he can – and Wong does the same. Steaming ahead, the two build up a polyphonic head of steam, double and triple-tonguing, appending connective arpeggios and sluicing vamps. Crumbling the lines to fine musical powder, the simultaneous staccato spewing never completely obliterates the piece’s musical shape.

Two years later Anderson’s 80th birthday bash at the new Velvet Lounge, not far from the old location, and featuring 75-year-old Jordan as well, was no exercise in nostalgia. The only bow to the past is that the two-part title tune reflects comparable tough tenor battles of the 1940s and 1950s. Adherents of the style were Sonny Stitt and Gene Ammons and most pointedly Dexter Gordon and Wardell Gray “The Chase”. However sharp ears will notice that by the end of the almost hour long improv here, both John Colrane and Johnny Griffin have been nodded to as well.

No exercise in neo-con nostalgia, this “Chase” announces its modernity from the top: a capella squeaks and squeals in altissimo variants played by Jordan with vocal exhortations and hard air expelling. Anderson counters with a “Pop Goes the Weasel” theme, Taylor and Bankhead hit, Parker twangs – and the chase is on. Jordan, a horse-raising aficionado, uses smears, clipped notes and effective glossolalia to take the lead as Anderson canters besides him with lower-pitched contrapuntal runs. Neck and neck, Jordan’s tone is more splintered and almost in the alto range while Anderson’s growls are practically moderato in comparison. Taylor’s ruffs and flams plus Bankhead’s walking stay back on the track, while Parker’s knob-twisting licks and abrasive twanging provide the equivalent of a spur to a horse’s flanks.

Eventually as diaphragm-vibrated timbres, elastic tonal interpolations and ragged split tones rend the air, both tenor men reach an extended rapprochement. Agitato and staccatissimo, neither can best the other – if that ever was the intention – and each maintains his distinctive identity. Getting to the point where each finishes each other’s phrases, a coda includes Jordan’s nod to Griffin via a quote from “Wade in the Water” and Anderson to Coltrane with a snatch of “A Love Supreme”. The finale showcases perfect parlando double counterpoint.

Bankhead’s sul ponticello introduction of the second part spectacularly exposes both the root notes and their fundamentals, but this pacific interlude soon gives way to more reed flaunting, taken chromatically or in broken octaves. Here and throughout the rest of the CD, the heavily vibrated multiphonic reed runs shares space with the guitarist’s curvaceous strums plus an occasional clank and click from the drummer. With Trane’s “Cousin Mary” and “Giant Steps” alluded to, the two wrap up the exciting essay in impov by honoring their direct influence as well as their tenor forefathers.

An equivalent chase in the future from others would undoubtedly have to touch on the saxophone advances of Anderson himself. From the originator, however, most of are exhibited in multi-faceted examples on these four discs.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 21st: 1. 21st Century Chase Part I 2. 21st Century Chase Part II 3. Ode to Alvin Fielder

Personnel: 21st: Fred Anderson and Kidd Jordan (tenor saxophones); Jeff Parker (guitar); Harrison Bankhead (bass) and Chad Taylor (drums)

Track Listing: Birthday: 1. 22:40 2. 13:14 3. 14:24

Personnel: Birthday: Fred Anderson (tenor saxophone; Tatsu Aoki (bass) and Chad Taylor (drums)

Track Listing: Staying: 1. Sunday Afternoon 2. The Elephant and the Bee 3. 60 Degrees in November 4. Wandering 5. Springing Winter 6. Changes and Bodies and Tones

Personnel: Staying: Fred Anderson (tenor saxophone; Harrison Bankhead (bass) and Tin Daisy (drums)

Track Listing: Live: 1. Andersonville 2. Acceleration 3. Beyond the Bridge 4. Positive Changes 5. Best Time of Life 6. Discreet Identifier

Personnel: Live: Fred Anderson and Francis Wong (tenor saxophones); Tatsu Aoki (bass) and Chad Taylor (drums)

December 17, 2009

Fred Anderson Quartet

Live at the Velvet Lounge Volume III
Asian Improv AIR 0074

Fred Anderson

Staying in the Game

Engine e029

Fred Anderson Trio

Birthday Live 2000

Asian Improv AIR “Official Bootleg”

Fred Anderson

21st Century Chase

Delmark DE 589

Consistency of expression is what has characterized the playing of Chicago tenor saxophonist Fred Anderson over the years. Furthermore, unlike many other musicians, there hasn’t been a subsequent lessening of his powers as he ages. As a matter of fact, now that he’s reached the venerable age of 80, his improvisational skills are at an exalted peak. Listen to these CDs for proof. They were recorded not only at Anderson’s 80th Birthday Bash, but when he was a comparative youngster of 79, 78 and even 71.

A founding member of the Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians, who recorded sparingly between the late 1960s and mid-1990s, Anderson has nurtured some of Chicago’s younger talents both by gigging with them, as well as giving them a place to play in his now legendary Velvet Lounge. Those years out of the limelight also created an idiosyncratic soloist, who – like Sonny Rollins and Eric Dolphy before him – now possesses an unmistaken reed texture whose sharp split tones carve a unique niche in every tune. Not only does the sax man put a lie to the cliché that “jazz is a young man’s art”, but he also proves that when they age jazzman don’t have to be cuddly and comfortable like Doc Cheatham or Eubie Blake. Additionally, as he demonstrates in four contexts here, stamina, innovation and sonic color aren’t the preserve of any generation. His playing can be threatening to saxophonists of any age.

Over the years Anderson has developed a tight coterie of associates, with many turning up on these discs. The oldest session, Birthday Live 2000, is a trio CD with bassist Tatsu Aoki and drummer Chad Taylor. Seven years later, with Live at the Velvet Lounge Volume III, Taylor and Aoki are still on board and tenor saxophonist Francis Wong joins the trio. Staying in the Game – an understatement if there ever was one when Anderson is concerned – from 2008, features him with bassist Harrison Bankhead and drummer Tim Daisy. Finally 21st Century Chase from 2009, retains Bankhead, brings back Taylor and adds guitarist Jeff Parker and tenor saxophonist Kidd Jordan – the later five years Anderson’s junior – whose tenure on the New Orleans scene is roughly analogous to Anderson’s in Chicago.

Anderson’s mature style is much in evidence as early as the first track on Birthday Live 2000. Both incendiary and knife-sharp, his carved-up timbres partition still further as he churns out double-and-triple tongued trills plus jagged Woody Woodpecker-like bites. Rappelling from just below the ligature down through the bow to the bell of his horn and back up again, the saxophonist’s glissandi radiate every which way. His explorations are backed by slapping bass strings plus opposite sticking and cross pulsing from Taylor.

Indefatigable and seemingly never at a lack for ideas – or breath, Anderson brings the same toughness to the third tune, which for all intents and purposes resembles a blues-flecked ballad. After an a capella intro from the tenorist, Aoki’s vibrating and quavering bass line moulds itself around Anderson’s rasping notes as the narrative is lengthened with emphasized phraseology and half-recognizable quotes from other tunes.

Flash forward eight years, and while Anderson has maintained his form, his playing is mellower. Bankhead’s supple walking now explores additional peaks and valleys in his accompaniment, while Daisy’s rolls, pops and bass drum kicks are as sturdy as Anderson’s solos. With the sidemen proficient players on other instruments as well as their own, intimations of other textures – if not the instruments themselves – show up on several tracks.

You could swear for instance that kalimba plucks are pressed into service on “Wandering”, or that Bankhead – who plays the six-string – has added guitar licks to his backing as well. Still the saxophone lines are moderato and unstrained, languid enough to indulge in an interlude of parlando, seconded by Bankhead’s unforced bass strokes. Similarly Daisy’s mallet-driven pulses on “Changes and Bodies and Tones” border on marimba textures as the bassist’s sul ponticello squeaks are moderated mid-range. Summing up the situation, Anderson builds his solo with pointillism, elongating and expanding note dabs and smears into a cohesive whole.

Mellow, yet still tough in his outings, the saxophonist manages to stretch tones almost to the breaking point, without ever severing the thematic thread. If he overblows while vibrating his horn’s metal, as he does on “60 Degrees in November”, the supplementary intervals and vibrations are perfectly balanced as they’re masticated with bites and tongue slaps. Chromatic improvisations from all hold everything together.

This relaxed, yet bellicose command is maintained when facing off against another tenor man, as Anderson does on the last two discs. No one plays for almost 70 years without devising strategies for different situations. Recorded at 2007’s Chicago Asian Jazz Festival, Live at the Velvet Lounge Volume III, for instance, allows the veteran tenor saxophonist to maintain his parameters throughout.

Case in point is a tune such as “Beyond the Bridge”. The head is sounded by Anderson’s harsh, irregular vibrato, then echoed with similar – but more accommodating – tones from Wong’s sax. Gritty, with reed bites and tongue stops, the two aurally march in unison with Taylor’s sticks flying into ruffs and rebounds and Aoki stop-start bass thumps. At times Wong, whose timbre is thinner than Anderson’s, could be playing “Hickory, Dickory Dock” as he operates in double counterpoint to the older saxophonist. That is until the drummer’s double-timed ratamacues and the bassist’s vibrating strings push Anderson to unleash his idiosyncratic stabbing pitches which are then answered by jagged, staccato octaves from the younger saxophonist.

An equivalent tart interface occurs on “Positive Changes”. However the impetus for Anderson and Wong combining for a series of tongue flutters and split tones which modulate up the scale with rubato intonation is some impressive bass work from Aoki. Moving beyond sul ponticello to a strained, near-vocalized pitch, the bassist descends the scale while sounding every string simultaneously.

The scene had been set with “Andersonville”, where each player stakes out his individual musical turf. Aoki’s thumps and pumps, Taylor’s whapping snares and cymbal vibrations plus the lockstep reed-biting and sonic curves from the saxophonists kick in almost as soon as Anderson sounds his signature ferocious cry. From then on Anderson appears to pushing and prodding every musical tone he can find in as many varied angles as he can – and Wong does the same. Steaming ahead, the two build up a polyphonic head of steam, double and triple-tonguing, appending connective arpeggios and sluicing vamps. Crumbling the lines to fine musical powder, the simultaneous staccato spewing never completely obliterates the piece’s musical shape.

Two years later Anderson’s 80th birthday bash at the new Velvet Lounge, not far from the old location, and featuring 75-year-old Jordan as well, was no exercise in nostalgia. The only bow to the past is that the two-part title tune reflects comparable tough tenor battles of the 1940s and 1950s. Adherents of the style were Sonny Stitt and Gene Ammons and most pointedly Dexter Gordon and Wardell Gray “The Chase”. However sharp ears will notice that by the end of the almost hour long improv here, both John Colrane and Johnny Griffin have been nodded to as well.

No exercise in neo-con nostalgia, this “Chase” announces its modernity from the top: a capella squeaks and squeals in altissimo variants played by Jordan with vocal exhortations and hard air expelling. Anderson counters with a “Pop Goes the Weasel” theme, Taylor and Bankhead hit, Parker twangs – and the chase is on. Jordan, a horse-raising aficionado, uses smears, clipped notes and effective glossolalia to take the lead as Anderson canters besides him with lower-pitched contrapuntal runs. Neck and neck, Jordan’s tone is more splintered and almost in the alto range while Anderson’s growls are practically moderato in comparison. Taylor’s ruffs and flams plus Bankhead’s walking stay back on the track, while Parker’s knob-twisting licks and abrasive twanging provide the equivalent of a spur to a horse’s flanks.

Eventually as diaphragm-vibrated timbres, elastic tonal interpolations and ragged split tones rend the air, both tenor men reach an extended rapprochement. Agitato and staccatissimo, neither can best the other – if that ever was the intention – and each maintains his distinctive identity. Getting to the point where each finishes each other’s phrases, a coda includes Jordan’s nod to Griffin via a quote from “Wade in the Water” and Anderson to Coltrane with a snatch of “A Love Supreme”. The finale showcases perfect parlando double counterpoint.

Bankhead’s sul ponticello introduction of the second part spectacularly exposes both the root notes and their fundamentals, but this pacific interlude soon gives way to more reed flaunting, taken chromatically or in broken octaves. Here and throughout the rest of the CD, the heavily vibrated multiphonic reed runs shares space with the guitarist’s curvaceous strums plus an occasional clank and click from the drummer. With Trane’s “Cousin Mary” and “Giant Steps” alluded to, the two wrap up the exciting essay in impov by honoring their direct influence as well as their tenor forefathers.

An equivalent chase in the future from others would undoubtedly have to touch on the saxophone advances of Anderson himself. From the originator, however, most of are exhibited in multi-faceted examples on these four discs.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 21st: 1. 21st Century Chase Part I 2. 21st Century Chase Part II 3. Ode to Alvin Fielder

Personnel: 21st: Fred Anderson and Kidd Jordan (tenor saxophones); Jeff Parker (guitar); Harrison Bankhead (bass) and Chad Taylor (drums)

Track Listing: Birthday: 1. 22:40 2. 13:14 3. 14:24

Personnel: Birthday: Fred Anderson (tenor saxophone; Tatsu Aoki (bass) and Chad Taylor (drums)

Track Listing: Staying: 1. Sunday Afternoon 2. The Elephant and the Bee 3. 60 Degrees in November 4. Wandering 5. Springing Winter 6. Changes and Bodies and Tones

Personnel: Staying: Fred Anderson (tenor saxophone; Harrison Bankhead (bass) and Tin Daisy (drums)

Track Listing: Live: 1. Andersonville 2. Acceleration 3. Beyond the Bridge 4. Positive Changes 5. Best Time of Life 6. Discreet Identifier

Personnel: Live: Fred Anderson and Francis Wong (tenor saxophones); Tatsu Aoki (bass) and Chad Taylor (drums)

December 17, 2009

Fred Anderson

21st Century Chase
Delmark DE 589

Fred Anderson Quartet

Live at the Velvet Lounge Volume III

Asian Improv AIR 0074

Fred Anderson

Staying in the Game

Engine e029

Fred Anderson Trio

Birthday Live 2000

Asian Improv AIR “Official Bootleg”

Consistency of expression is what has characterized the playing of Chicago tenor saxophonist Fred Anderson over the years. Furthermore, unlike many other musicians, there hasn’t been a subsequent lessening of his powers as he ages. As a matter of fact, now that he’s reached the venerable age of 80, his improvisational skills are at an exalted peak. Listen to these CDs for proof. They were recorded not only at Anderson’s 80th Birthday Bash, but when he was a comparative youngster of 79, 78 and even 71.

A founding member of the Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians, who recorded sparingly between the late 1960s and mid-1990s, Anderson has nurtured some of Chicago’s younger talents both by gigging with them, as well as giving them a place to play in his now legendary Velvet Lounge. Those years out of the limelight also created an idiosyncratic soloist, who – like Sonny Rollins and Eric Dolphy before him – now possesses an unmistaken reed texture whose sharp split tones carve a unique niche in every tune. Not only does the sax man put a lie to the cliché that “jazz is a young man’s art”, but he also proves that when they age jazzman don’t have to be cuddly and comfortable like Doc Cheatham or Eubie Blake. Additionally, as he demonstrates in four contexts here, stamina, innovation and sonic color aren’t the preserve of any generation. His playing can be threatening to saxophonists of any age.

Over the years Anderson has developed a tight coterie of associates, with many turning up on these discs. The oldest session, Birthday Live 2000, is a trio CD with bassist Tatsu Aoki and drummer Chad Taylor. Seven years later, with Live at the Velvet Lounge Volume III, Taylor and Aoki are still on board and tenor saxophonist Francis Wong joins the trio. Staying in the Game – an understatement if there ever was one when Anderson is concerned – from 2008, features him with bassist Harrison Bankhead and drummer Tim Daisy. Finally 21st Century Chase from 2009, retains Bankhead, brings back Taylor and adds guitarist Jeff Parker and tenor saxophonist Kidd Jordan – the later five years Anderson’s junior – whose tenure on the New Orleans scene is roughly analogous to Anderson’s in Chicago.

Anderson’s mature style is much in evidence as early as the first track on Birthday Live 2000. Both incendiary and knife-sharp, his carved-up timbres partition still further as he churns out double-and-triple tongued trills plus jagged Woody Woodpecker-like bites. Rappelling from just below the ligature down through the bow to the bell of his horn and back up again, the saxophonist’s glissandi radiate every which way. His explorations are backed by slapping bass strings plus opposite sticking and cross pulsing from Taylor.

Indefatigable and seemingly never at a lack for ideas – or breath, Anderson brings the same toughness to the third tune, which for all intents and purposes resembles a blues-flecked ballad. After an a capella intro from the tenorist, Aoki’s vibrating and quavering bass line moulds itself around Anderson’s rasping notes as the narrative is lengthened with emphasized phraseology and half-recognizable quotes from other tunes.

Flash forward eight years, and while Anderson has maintained his form, his playing is mellower. Bankhead’s supple walking now explores additional peaks and valleys in his accompaniment, while Daisy’s rolls, pops and bass drum kicks are as sturdy as Anderson’s solos. With the sidemen proficient players on other instruments as well as their own, intimations of other textures – if not the instruments themselves – show up on several tracks.

You could swear for instance that kalimba plucks are pressed into service on “Wandering”, or that Bankhead – who plays the six-string – has added guitar licks to his backing as well. Still the saxophone lines are moderato and unstrained, languid enough to indulge in an interlude of parlando, seconded by Bankhead’s unforced bass strokes. Similarly Daisy’s mallet-driven pulses on “Changes and Bodies and Tones” border on marimba textures as the bassist’s sul ponticello squeaks are moderated mid-range. Summing up the situation, Anderson builds his solo with pointillism, elongating and expanding note dabs and smears into a cohesive whole.

Mellow, yet still tough in his outings, the saxophonist manages to stretch tones almost to the breaking point, without ever severing the thematic thread. If he overblows while vibrating his horn’s metal, as he does on “60 Degrees in November”, the supplementary intervals and vibrations are perfectly balanced as they’re masticated with bites and tongue slaps. Chromatic improvisations from all hold everything together.

This relaxed, yet bellicose command is maintained when facing off against another tenor man, as Anderson does on the last two discs. No one plays for almost 70 years without devising strategies for different situations. Recorded at 2007’s Chicago Asian Jazz Festival, Live at the Velvet Lounge Volume III, for instance, allows the veteran tenor saxophonist to maintain his parameters throughout.

Case in point is a tune such as “Beyond the Bridge”. The head is sounded by Anderson’s harsh, irregular vibrato, then echoed with similar – but more accommodating – tones from Wong’s sax. Gritty, with reed bites and tongue stops, the two aurally march in unison with Taylor’s sticks flying into ruffs and rebounds and Aoki stop-start bass thumps. At times Wong, whose timbre is thinner than Anderson’s, could be playing “Hickory, Dickory Dock” as he operates in double counterpoint to the older saxophonist. That is until the drummer’s double-timed ratamacues and the bassist’s vibrating strings push Anderson to unleash his idiosyncratic stabbing pitches which are then answered by jagged, staccato octaves from the younger saxophonist.

An equivalent tart interface occurs on “Positive Changes”. However the impetus for Anderson and Wong combining for a series of tongue flutters and split tones which modulate up the scale with rubato intonation is some impressive bass work from Aoki. Moving beyond sul ponticello to a strained, near-vocalized pitch, the bassist descends the scale while sounding every string simultaneously.

The scene had been set with “Andersonville”, where each player stakes out his individual musical turf. Aoki’s thumps and pumps, Taylor’s whapping snares and cymbal vibrations plus the lockstep reed-biting and sonic curves from the saxophonists kick in almost as soon as Anderson sounds his signature ferocious cry. From then on Anderson appears to pushing and prodding every musical tone he can find in as many varied angles as he can – and Wong does the same. Steaming ahead, the two build up a polyphonic head of steam, double and triple-tonguing, appending connective arpeggios and sluicing vamps. Crumbling the lines to fine musical powder, the simultaneous staccato spewing never completely obliterates the piece’s musical shape.

Two years later Anderson’s 80th birthday bash at the new Velvet Lounge, not far from the old location, and featuring 75-year-old Jordan as well, was no exercise in nostalgia. The only bow to the past is that the two-part title tune reflects comparable tough tenor battles of the 1940s and 1950s. Adherents of the style were Sonny Stitt and Gene Ammons and most pointedly Dexter Gordon and Wardell Gray “The Chase”. However sharp ears will notice that by the end of the almost hour long improv here, both John Colrane and Johnny Griffin have been nodded to as well.

No exercise in neo-con nostalgia, this “Chase” announces its modernity from the top: a capella squeaks and squeals in altissimo variants played by Jordan with vocal exhortations and hard air expelling. Anderson counters with a “Pop Goes the Weasel” theme, Taylor and Bankhead hit, Parker twangs – and the chase is on. Jordan, a horse-raising aficionado, uses smears, clipped notes and effective glossolalia to take the lead as Anderson canters besides him with lower-pitched contrapuntal runs. Neck and neck, Jordan’s tone is more splintered and almost in the alto range while Anderson’s growls are practically moderato in comparison. Taylor’s ruffs and flams plus Bankhead’s walking stay back on the track, while Parker’s knob-twisting licks and abrasive twanging provide the equivalent of a spur to a horse’s flanks.

Eventually as diaphragm-vibrated timbres, elastic tonal interpolations and ragged split tones rend the air, both tenor men reach an extended rapprochement. Agitato and staccatissimo, neither can best the other – if that ever was the intention – and each maintains his distinctive identity. Getting to the point where each finishes each other’s phrases, a coda includes Jordan’s nod to Griffin via a quote from “Wade in the Water” and Anderson to Coltrane with a snatch of “A Love Supreme”. The finale showcases perfect parlando double counterpoint.

Bankhead’s sul ponticello introduction of the second part spectacularly exposes both the root notes and their fundamentals, but this pacific interlude soon gives way to more reed flaunting, taken chromatically or in broken octaves. Here and throughout the rest of the CD, the heavily vibrated multiphonic reed runs shares space with the guitarist’s curvaceous strums plus an occasional clank and click from the drummer. With Trane’s “Cousin Mary” and “Giant Steps” alluded to, the two wrap up the exciting essay in impov by honoring their direct influence as well as their tenor forefathers.

An equivalent chase in the future from others would undoubtedly have to touch on the saxophone advances of Anderson himself. From the originator, however, most of are exhibited in multi-faceted examples on these four discs.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 21st: 1. 21st Century Chase Part I 2. 21st Century Chase Part II 3. Ode to Alvin Fielder

Personnel: 21st: Fred Anderson and Kidd Jordan (tenor saxophones); Jeff Parker (guitar); Harrison Bankhead (bass) and Chad Taylor (drums)

Track Listing: Birthday: 1. 22:40 2. 13:14 3. 14:24

Personnel: Birthday: Fred Anderson (tenor saxophone; Tatsu Aoki (bass) and Chad Taylor (drums)

Track Listing: Staying: 1. Sunday Afternoon 2. The Elephant and the Bee 3. 60 Degrees in November 4. Wandering 5. Springing Winter 6. Changes and Bodies and Tones

Personnel: Staying: Fred Anderson (tenor saxophone; Harrison Bankhead (bass) and Tin Daisy (drums)

Track Listing: Live: 1. Andersonville 2. Acceleration 3. Beyond the Bridge 4. Positive Changes 5. Best Time of Life 6. Discreet Identifier

Personnel: Live: Fred Anderson and Francis Wong (tenor saxophones); Tatsu Aoki (bass) and Chad Taylor (drums)

December 17, 2009

Kidd Jordan

The Vision Festival New York
June 11, 2008

Figuratively – and usually single-handedly – carrying the banner for experimental Jazz in New Orleans for many years, tenor saxophonist Edward “Kidd” Jordan, 73, must have felt metaphorically out-in-the-cold on many occasions. But heat was certainly in evidence – literally and emotionally – mid-June in New York as a turn-away crowd helped celebrate the reedman’s Lifetime Achievement with a series of concerts.

Highlight of the 13th Annual Vision Festival that took place at the Lower East Side’s Clemente Soto Velez Cultural Center, the five sets honoring Jordan were hot – as was the venue. Despite a few strategically placed revolving fans, the temperature hovered around 35 degrees Celsius in the venerable space, with body heat from the packed audiences adding to the ventilation challenges.

Besides working as a sideman in Crescent City bands and an educator at Southern University, introducing generations of students – including his own children – to improvised music, Jordan has been playing “outside” since the 1960s, but wasn’t really recognized until collaborating with outsiders in the late 1970s. His most affecting work during the festival was with two of those ensembles.

Culmination of the evening was an incendiary workout between Jordan and another Free Jazz pioneer, 79-year-old tenor saxophonist Fred Anderson of Chicago backed by the unbeatable rhythm section of Chicago’s Hamid Drake on drums and New York’s William Parker on bass. Earlier there was as impressive a collaboration with some of Jordan’s Southern associates: pianist Joel Futterman from Virginia, New Orleans trumpeter Clyde Kerr, plus Parker and – subbing for indisposed Mississippi-based drummer Alvin Fielder – New York drummer Gerald Cleaver. As if he was playing at New Orleans’ Preservation Hall, Kerr remained seated on a chair throughout the set.

Perhaps the most notable part of this meeting was how seamlessly the full rounded tone of Kerr’s trumpet fit with Jordan’s split tones and frequent altissimo excursions, plus Futterman’s hunts, pecks and stops both inside on the piano strings and on the keyboard. Kerr’s burbling, heraldic timbres and carefully measured lines existed besides, but not quite in the same time-space as the other four. Yet even as Futterman jabbed the keys and Parker played sul tasto vibrations, Jordan made common cause with the brass man without altering his characteristic style. Knitting quotes from late period John Coltrane ballads and the familiar “Sometimes I Feel Like A Motherless Child” to Kerr’s grace notes, Jordan ensured harmonic inclusion, with the improvisation’s conclusion as tender as a lullaby.

The saxophonist’s gift for melodic interpolation was used even more effectively in the evening’s first set which matched his long-lined theme elaboration with the baritone saxophonist Hamiet Bluiett’s high pitches. Backed by Dave Burrell pounding high frequency piano chords and Maynard Chatters stretching the piano strings, the baritonist however seemed to feel he had to mirror every one of Jordan’s excursions into altissimo, shrilling similar pitches on his larger horn. Rarely was the baritone’s basso timbre properly exploited. But again – with some help from Burrell’s boogie-woogie-like arpeggios – it was Jordan who kept the exposition on an even keel.

Segueing into “Body and Soul” references, he moderated the bigger saxophone’s altissimo blats. Following Chatters’ piano string scraping and Burrell’s song-like patterning, Jordan interpolated the hymn “Wade in the Water” into the mix, had the melody doubled with gospel chording from Burrell and finally had it accepted by a more relaxed Bluiett.

Jordan could relax himself in a later set of nimble swing that paired him with animated violinist Billy Bang, backed by Parker and Drake. With the bassist flaying his strings rhythmically and the drummer sounding a powerful backbeat, the bravura front line lobbed sound shards at one another – but shards that owed more to the blues than dodecaphony.

Often operating in double counterpoint, the two were a study in contrasts. Bang, who sometimes swayed in an Elvis-like snake-hipped dance as he double-stopped and picked at near warp-like speed, faced Jordan, who at one point sprawled on a nearby chair and fired off chorus-after-chorus of multiphonics and double tonguing while foot-tapping. With Bang replicating participation in a demented hoedown, the saxophonist varied his responses with Woody Woodpecker-like cries and staccato trills. Finally over a chorus of brittle, jagged sweeps from Bang, he shouted out a series of vocalized exhortations, which rather than being disruptive, fit jigsaw-puzzle-piece-like with the fiddler’s runs.

Jordan’s skills so energized Bang’s imagination, that in the late-night finale, after prowling the stage, he made an unannounced addition to the Anderson-Jordan quartet romp. So too, mid-way through that set, did another veteran Chicago tenor saxophonist, Kalaparusha Maurice McIntyre. Unlike Bang whose broken octave confrontation with Anderson and Jordan provided spirited contrapuntal lines to the dual tenor’s exposition, McIntyre merely vamped, and his sound was eventually subsumed beneath the churning Parker-Drake rhythm section.

Upfront Anderson and Jordan perfectly complemented one another. Despite the geographic gap, the two have worked frequently in a quartet configuration since the late 1980s, after discovering they were reedists of a similar age, who had been attempting similar experiments independently of one another. That night, preferring staccato breaks and splintered altissimo runs, the animated Jordan’s improvisations were easily distinguished from Anderson’s, whose meditative exposition is explicitly linked to the classic tenor saxophone tradition that encompasses Coleman Hawkins as well as John Coltrane.

Someone who bends into a semi-crouch when he plays, Anderson expanded his sounds with foghorn honks, while Jordan splayed split tones, alternating with sudden reed bites. With Bang playing near-saxophone-like lines as well, the three produced a series of chases and shouts. Eventually the tune turned towards steady blues progression as Parker walked and slapped and Drake thickly press rolled the beat. Diminuendo, the tune climaxed as the saxophone honked lustily and gradually more softly.

Each of these varied collaborations made it clear why Jordan had been honored. Although his saxophone conception takes its basic vocabulary from the advances of John Coltrane and Ornette Coleman, unlike some others he was quickly able to escape their influence and forge his own style. Another saxophone veteran of the 1960s, altoist Sonny Simmons who played in the next day, provided a contrasting example of someone who never escaped the Trane-Coleman trajectory.

Jordan, who wryly noted that if you live long enough you become appreciated, also deserved his accolades for passing on improvisation skills to further generations, even if – like his own sons, trumpeter Marlon Jordan and flutist Kent Jordan, who played less interesting contemporary sounds with their own band in a set honoring their father that night – the aim becomes professionalism rather than invention.

--Ken Waxman

-- For MusicWorks Issue #102

November 20, 2008

Jason Stein

A Calculus of Loss
Clean Feed CF 104 CD

Evan Parker-Mark Wastell-Graham Halliwell-Max Eastley

A Life Saved By a Spider and Two Doves

Another Timbre at06

Kidd Jordan/Kali Z. Fasteau

LIVE at the Kerava Jazz Festival: Finland

Flying Note FNCD 9012

Scott Fields

Bitter Love Songs

Clean Feed CF 102 CD

Open Loose

Strange Unison

Radio Legs RL 013

By Ken Waxman

Arguments exist as to the commercial benefits of free trade agreements. But musicians wish similar treaties existed for their trade. In the period since NFTA, for instance, the ability of performers to travel across borders has become worse. That’s what makes festival season important. Foreign performers ranging from respected veterans to savvy tyros get Canadian exposure. Recent CDs here capture older jazzers’ alchemy and suggest newer players to watch.

Someone who has been on the cutting edge since the 1960s, British saxophonist Evan Parker brings his questing spirit to the emblematically titled A Life Saved By a Spider and Two Doves, Another Timbre at06 Parker’s soprano saxophone is framed by shimmering, pulsating and whirling percussion and electronics. The other musicians – all British – are Mark Wastell playing tam-tam, metal percussion and harmonium, Graham Halliwell using computer and electronics; and Max Eastley on arc, an electro-acoustic monochord.

The unyielding drones from arc and harmonium create the sonic bed on which these improvisations rest. Additional electronic prestidigitation from Halliwell means that Parker’s carefully measured vibrations are seconded by lyrical trills reconstituted from his own output.

Although the saxophonist’s unhurried modulations announce their distinctive presence as they peep from among the seeping tones, all the players reach resolution on “The Chessboard Cherry Tree”. Here turbidity is shattered by ear-wrenching percussion abrasions and crackling electronic wave forms. Most distinctively, Parker’s aviary slurs coagulate and multiply with circular breathing. Utilizing ghost notes and flutter tonguing, his phrases color and connect the proceedings. Eventually the others’ blurred harmonies bond with understated reed trills for a satisfying climax.

If Parker finesses his polyphonic tones than New Orleans-based tenor-saxophonist Kidd Jordan burns through his with molten energy. Unlike Parker, Jordan performs infrequently in Canada. You can hear why this is a loss on LIVE at the Kerava Jazz Festival: Finland Flying Note FNCD 9012, where his unbridled improvising is showcased. Associates of the septuagenarian saxophonist are percussionist Newman Taylor Barker and Kali Z. Fasteau, who expresses herself on mizmar, piano, flute, cello, synthesizer, violin, drums and soprano saxophone.

Announcing themselves on “Trance Dance”, Baker rumbles, pops and rebounds, as Fasteau scrapes, stops and strums the piano’s strings before turning to modal chording. For his part, Jordan divides his sheets of sound between screeching that abuts dog-whistle territory, and slurred, subterranean growls.

Additional mass is added elsewhere when Fasteau packs performances with thick synthesizer reverberations, screechy cello lines or, drumming, joins Baker in producing press rolls. Meanwhile Jordan ratchets from his horn’s top to tip in a nanosecond, utilizing vibrated split tones, double-tongued flattement and side-slipping. With Jordan expelling staccato, free-form patterns and Fasteau utilizing her soprano saxophone’s pinched, ney-like tone, “Sound Science” is another effective track; timbres brush up against one another as identical notes appear in different pitches.

Another improviser who tours as frequently as Parker is guitarist Scott Fields. Chicago-born, Fields moved to Köln, Germany a few years back. On the witty Bitter Love Songs Clean Feed CF 102 CD, he leads a trio completed by a Portuguese rhythm section: bassist Sebastian Gramss and drummer João Lobo. Fields’ compositions, which match liquid guitar runs, slinky bass lines and on-the-beat drumming, are still at variance with their sardonic titles.

For instance “My Love is Love, Your Love is Hate” features a spinning staccato theme from Fields that is stretched with slurred fingering until it seems that it will rupture, but doesn’t. Working in double counterpoint, the massed strings join to produce a barrage of notes, with Fields sounding as if he’s playing microtonally and Gramss slapping a backbeat. Meanwhile Lobo’s flams precede an intermezzo for ringing guitar licks. Note clusters are lobbed between the players on “You Used to Say I Love You but So What Now”. But the strategy is different. Fields’ contrapuntal chording skirts C&W picking, while Gramss resonates handfuls of low-pitched timbres. Eventually as the bassist settles on legato pacing, Fields wraps up with echoing, blues-based licks.

Gramss’ bass work owes its suppleness to sonic extensions from older bass specialists such as New York’s Mark Helias, who has recorded in Toronto. His Open Loose band includes drummer Tom Rainey and tenor saxophonist Tony Malaby.

On Strange Unison, Radio Legs RL 013, while the three interlock instrumentally, Helias’ bass nevertheless set the pace, with resonations ranging from traditional slap bass to staccatissimo runs. Master of understatement, Rainey blunts the backbeat, relying on cymbal cracks and cross-pulsating drags. Skirting atonality with flutter tonguing and pressurized overblowing, Malaby digs into each composition. “Silent Stutter”, for example, finds him masticating hard and heavy slurs into clusters which are subsequently expelled as foghorn blats. In contrast, “Blue Light Down the Line” is taken mid-tempo. As the bassist’s walking is succeeded by mercurial stopping, Malaby builds concentrated phrases. Soon physicality is replaced by moderato coloration as timbres puffed by the saxophone are doubled with arco swipes.

Another vibrant improvised music scene is Chicago’s, spearheaded by reedist Ken Vandermark, a frequent Canadian visitor. Like other established players, Vandermark mentors younger players, one of whom is bass clarinetist Jason Stein. A Calculus of Loss Clean Feed CF 104 CD demonstrates what Stein can do on his own, backed by Kevin Davis’s cello and Mike Pride’s percussion.

As cohesive as the other groups here, one of the trio’s advantages is that Davis takes either the front-line guitar or rhythm-section bass role. The other is that Pride’s percussion includes resonating vibraphone tinctures, cantilevered cymbal patterns plus standard drum beats.

Compositions such as “Caroline and Sam” and “That’s Not a Closet” confirm the three are as comfortable with New music as new Swing. Balanced on vibes reverberations and scratched cello strings, the former connects a near-madrigal melody with extended techniques as Stein sounds an intractable phrase in his body tube ignoring key movement. Based on mood, rather than rhythm, the result is contemplative without sinking to lugubriousness. On the other hand, “That’s Not…” is sprightly enough to suggest mainstream swing, although Stein’s roistering coloratura lines alternating with jagged runs aren’t a standard scenario. Melodious, variations moderate the pace so Davis’ plinks and Pride’s cymbal pops are audible in its resolution.

Some of these players may be on stage this month; others may take a while to visit the area. All are worth hearing.

-- For Whole Note Vol. 13 #9

June 6, 2008

Kidd Jordan/Kali Z. Fasteau

LIVE at the Kerava Jazz Festival: Finland
Flying Note FNCD 9012

Evan Parker-Mark Wastell-Graham Halliwell-Max Eastley

A Life Saved By a Spider and Two Doves

Another Timbre at06

Scott Fields

Bitter Love Songs

Clean Feed CF 102 CD

Open Loose

Strange Unison

Radio Legs RL 013

Jason Stein

A Calculus of Loss

Clean Feed CF 104 CD

By Ken Waxman

Arguments exist as to the commercial benefits of free trade agreements. But musicians wish similar treaties existed for their trade. In the period since NFTA, for instance, the ability of performers to travel across borders has become worse. That’s what makes festival season important. Foreign performers ranging from respected veterans to savvy tyros get Canadian exposure. Recent CDs here capture older jazzers’ alchemy and suggest newer players to watch.

Someone who has been on the cutting edge since the 1960s, British saxophonist Evan Parker brings his questing spirit to the emblematically titled A Life Saved By a Spider and Two Doves, Another Timbre at06 Parker’s soprano saxophone is framed by shimmering, pulsating and whirling percussion and electronics. The other musicians – all British – are Mark Wastell playing tam-tam, metal percussion and harmonium, Graham Halliwell using computer and electronics; and Max Eastley on arc, an electro-acoustic monochord.

The unyielding drones from arc and harmonium create the sonic bed on which these improvisations rest. Additional electronic prestidigitation from Halliwell means that Parker’s carefully measured vibrations are seconded by lyrical trills reconstituted from his own output.

Although the saxophonist’s unhurried modulations announce their distinctive presence as they peep from among the seeping tones, all the players reach resolution on “The Chessboard Cherry Tree”. Here turbidity is shattered by ear-wrenching percussion abrasions and crackling electronic wave forms. Most distinctively, Parker’s aviary slurs coagulate and multiply with circular breathing. Utilizing ghost notes and flutter tonguing, his phrases color and connect the proceedings. Eventually the others’ blurred harmonies bond with understated reed trills for a satisfying climax.

If Parker finesses his polyphonic tones than New Orleans-based tenor-saxophonist Kidd Jordan burns through his with molten energy. Unlike Parker, Jordan performs infrequently in Canada. You can hear why this is a loss on LIVE at the Kerava Jazz Festival: Finland Flying Note FNCD 9012, where his unbridled improvising is showcased. Associates of the septuagenarian saxophonist are percussionist Newman Taylor Barker and Kali Z. Fasteau, who expresses herself on mizmar, piano, flute, cello, synthesizer, violin, drums and soprano saxophone.

Announcing themselves on “Trance Dance”, Baker rumbles, pops and rebounds, as Fasteau scrapes, stops and strums the piano’s strings before turning to modal chording. For his part, Jordan divides his sheets of sound between screeching that abuts dog-whistle territory, and slurred, subterranean growls.

Additional mass is added elsewhere when Fasteau packs performances with thick synthesizer reverberations, screechy cello lines or, drumming, joins Baker in producing press rolls. Meanwhile Jordan ratchets from his horn’s top to tip in a nanosecond, utilizing vibrated split tones, double-tongued flattement and side-slipping. With Jordan expelling staccato, free-form patterns and Fasteau utilizing her soprano saxophone’s pinched, ney-like tone, “Sound Science” is another effective track; timbres brush up against one another as identical notes appear in different pitches.

Another improviser who tours as frequently as Parker is guitarist Scott Fields. Chicago-born, Fields moved to Köln, Germany a few years back. On the witty Bitter Love Songs Clean Feed CF 102 CD, he leads a trio completed by a Portuguese rhythm section: bassist Sebastian Gramss and drummer João Lobo. Fields’ compositions, which match liquid guitar runs, slinky bass lines and on-the-beat drumming, are still at variance with their sardonic titles.

For instance “My Love is Love, Your Love is Hate” features a spinning staccato theme from Fields that is stretched with slurred fingering until it seems that it will rupture, but doesn’t. Working in double counterpoint, the massed strings join to produce a barrage of notes, with Fields sounding as if he’s playing microtonally and Gramss slapping a backbeat. Meanwhile Lobo’s flams precede an intermezzo for ringing guitar licks. Note clusters are lobbed between the players on “You Used to Say I Love You but So What Now”. But the strategy is different. Fields’ contrapuntal chording skirts C&W picking, while Gramss resonates handfuls of low-pitched timbres. Eventually as the bassist settles on legato pacing, Fields wraps up with echoing, blues-based licks.

Gramss’ bass work owes its suppleness to sonic extensions from older bass specialists such as New York’s Mark Helias, who has recorded in Toronto. His Open Loose band includes drummer Tom Rainey and tenor saxophonist Tony Malaby.

On Strange Unison, Radio Legs RL 013, while the three interlock instrumentally, Helias’ bass nevertheless set the pace, with resonations ranging from traditional slap bass to staccatissimo runs. Master of understatement, Rainey blunts the backbeat, relying on cymbal cracks and cross-pulsating drags. Skirting atonality with flutter tonguing and pressurized overblowing, Malaby digs into each composition. “Silent Stutter”, for example, finds him masticating hard and heavy slurs into clusters which are subsequently expelled as foghorn blats. In contrast, “Blue Light Down the Line” is taken mid-tempo. As the bassist’s walking is succeeded by mercurial stopping, Malaby builds concentrated phrases. Soon physicality is replaced by moderato coloration as timbres puffed by the saxophone are doubled with arco swipes.

Another vibrant improvised music scene is Chicago’s, spearheaded by reedist Ken Vandermark, a frequent Canadian visitor. Like other established players, Vandermark mentors younger players, one of whom is bass clarinetist Jason Stein. A Calculus of Loss Clean Feed CF 104 CD demonstrates what Stein can do on his own, backed by Kevin Davis’s cello and Mike Pride’s percussion.

As cohesive as the other groups here, one of the trio’s advantages is that Davis takes either the front-line guitar or rhythm-section bass role. The other is that Pride’s percussion includes resonating vibraphone tinctures, cantilevered cymbal patterns plus standard drum beats.

Compositions such as “Caroline and Sam” and “That’s Not a Closet” confirm the three are as comfortable with New music as new Swing. Balanced on vibes reverberations and scratched cello strings, the former connects a near-madrigal melody with extended techniques as Stein sounds an intractable phrase in his body tube ignoring key movement. Based on mood, rather than rhythm, the result is contemplative without sinking to lugubriousness. On the other hand, “That’s Not…” is sprightly enough to suggest mainstream swing, although Stein’s roistering coloratura lines alternating with jagged runs aren’t a standard scenario. Melodious, variations moderate the pace so Davis’ plinks and Pride’s cymbal pops are audible in its resolution.

Some of these players may be on stage this month; others may take a while to visit the area. All are worth hearing.

-- For Whole Note Vol. 13 #9

June 6, 2008

Scott Fields

Bitter Love Songs
Clean Feed CF 102 CD

Evan Parker-Mark Wastell-Graham Halliwell-Max Eastley

A Life Saved By a Spider and Two Doves

Another Timbre at06

Kidd Jordan/Kali Z. Fasteau

LIVE at the Kerava Jazz Festival: Finland

Flying Note FNCD 9012

Open Loose

Strange Unison

Radio Legs RL 013

Jason Stein

A Calculus of Loss

Clean Feed CF 104 CD

By Ken Waxman

Arguments exist as to the commercial benefits of free trade agreements. But musicians wish similar treaties existed for their trade. In the period since NFTA, for instance, the ability of performers to travel across borders has become worse. That’s what makes festival season important. Foreign performers ranging from respected veterans to savvy tyros get Canadian exposure. Recent CDs here capture older jazzers’ alchemy and suggest newer players to watch.

Someone who has been on the cutting edge since the 1960s, British saxophonist Evan Parker brings his questing spirit to the emblematically titled A Life Saved By a Spider and Two Doves, Another Timbre at06 Parker’s soprano saxophone is framed by shimmering, pulsating and whirling percussion and electronics. The other musicians – all British – are Mark Wastell playing tam-tam, metal percussion and harmonium, Graham Halliwell using computer and electronics; and Max Eastley on arc, an electro-acoustic monochord.

The unyielding drones from arc and harmonium create the sonic bed on which these improvisations rest. Additional electronic prestidigitation from Halliwell means that Parker’s carefully measured vibrations are seconded by lyrical trills reconstituted from his own output.

Although the saxophonist’s unhurried modulations announce their distinctive presence as they peep from among the seeping tones, all the players reach resolution on “The Chessboard Cherry Tree”. Here turbidity is shattered by ear-wrenching percussion abrasions and crackling electronic wave forms. Most distinctively, Parker’s aviary slurs coagulate and multiply with circular breathing. Utilizing ghost notes and flutter tonguing, his phrases color and connect the proceedings. Eventually the others’ blurred harmonies bond with understated reed trills for a satisfying climax.

If Parker finesses his polyphonic tones than New Orleans-based tenor-saxophonist Kidd Jordan burns through his with molten energy. Unlike Parker, Jordan performs infrequently in Canada. You can hear why this is a loss on LIVE at the Kerava Jazz Festival: Finland Flying Note FNCD 9012, where his unbridled improvising is showcased. Associates of the septuagenarian saxophonist are percussionist Newman Taylor Barker and Kali Z. Fasteau, who expresses herself on mizmar, piano, flute, cello, synthesizer, violin, drums and soprano saxophone.

Announcing themselves on “Trance Dance”, Baker rumbles, pops and rebounds, as Fasteau scrapes, stops and strums the piano’s strings before turning to modal chording. For his part, Jordan divides his sheets of sound between screeching that abuts dog-whistle territory, and slurred, subterranean growls.

Additional mass is added elsewhere when Fasteau packs performances with thick synthesizer reverberations, screechy cello lines or, drumming, joins Baker in producing press rolls. Meanwhile Jordan ratchets from his horn’s top to tip in a nanosecond, utilizing vibrated split tones, double-tongued flattement and side-slipping. With Jordan expelling staccato, free-form patterns and Fasteau utilizing her soprano saxophone’s pinched, ney-like tone, “Sound Science” is another effective track; timbres brush up against one another as identical notes appear in different pitches.

Another improviser who tours as frequently as Parker is guitarist Scott Fields. Chicago-born, Fields moved to Köln, Germany a few years back. On the witty Bitter Love Songs Clean Feed CF 102 CD, he leads a trio completed by a Portuguese rhythm section: bassist Sebastian Gramss and drummer João Lobo. Fields’ compositions, which match liquid guitar runs, slinky bass lines and on-the-beat drumming, are still at variance with their sardonic titles.

For instance “My Love is Love, Your Love is Hate” features a spinning staccato theme from Fields that is stretched with slurred fingering until it seems that it will rupture, but doesn’t. Working in double counterpoint, the massed strings join to produce a barrage of notes, with Fields sounding as if he’s playing microtonally and Gramss slapping a backbeat. Meanwhile Lobo’s flams precede an intermezzo for ringing guitar licks. Note clusters are lobbed between the players on “You Used to Say I Love You but So What Now”. But the strategy is different. Fields’ contrapuntal chording skirts C&W picking, while Gramss resonates handfuls of low-pitched timbres. Eventually as the bassist settles on legato pacing, Fields wraps up with echoing, blues-based licks.

Gramss’ bass work owes its suppleness to sonic extensions from older bass specialists such as New York’s Mark Helias, who has recorded in Toronto. His Open Loose band includes drummer Tom Rainey and tenor saxophonist Tony Malaby.

On Strange Unison, Radio Legs RL 013, while the three interlock instrumentally, Helias’ bass nevertheless set the pace, with resonations ranging from traditional slap bass to staccatissimo runs. Master of understatement, Rainey blunts the backbeat, relying on cymbal cracks and cross-pulsating drags. Skirting atonality with flutter tonguing and pressurized overblowing, Malaby digs into each composition. “Silent Stutter”, for example, finds him masticating hard and heavy slurs into clusters which are subsequently expelled as foghorn blats. In contrast, “Blue Light Down the Line” is taken mid-tempo. As the bassist’s walking is succeeded by mercurial stopping, Malaby builds concentrated phrases. Soon physicality is replaced by moderato coloration as timbres puffed by the saxophone are doubled with arco swipes.

Another vibrant improvised music scene is Chicago’s, spearheaded by reedist Ken Vandermark, a frequent Canadian visitor. Like other established players, Vandermark mentors younger players, one of whom is bass clarinetist Jason Stein. A Calculus of Loss Clean Feed CF 104 CD demonstrates what Stein can do on his own, backed by Kevin Davis’s cello and Mike Pride’s percussion.

As cohesive as the other groups here, one of the trio’s advantages is that Davis takes either the front-line guitar or rhythm-section bass role. The other is that Pride’s percussion includes resonating vibraphone tinctures, cantilevered cymbal patterns plus standard drum beats.

Compositions such as “Caroline and Sam” and “That’s Not a Closet” confirm the three are as comfortable with New music as new Swing. Balanced on vibes reverberations and scratched cello strings, the former connects a near-madrigal melody with extended techniques as Stein sounds an intractable phrase in his body tube ignoring key movement. Based on mood, rather than rhythm, the result is contemplative without sinking to lugubriousness. On the other hand, “That’s Not…” is sprightly enough to suggest mainstream swing, although Stein’s roistering coloratura lines alternating with jagged runs aren’t a standard scenario. Melodious, variations moderate the pace so Davis’ plinks and Pride’s cymbal pops are audible in its resolution.

Some of these players may be on stage this month; others may take a while to visit the area. All are worth hearing.

-- For Whole Note Vol. 13 #9

June 6, 2008

Open Loose

Strange Unison
Radio Legs RL 013

Evan Parker-Mark Wastell-Graham Halliwell-Max Eastley

A Life Saved By a Spider and Two Doves

Another Timbre at06

Kidd Jordan/Kali Z. Fasteau

LIVE at the Kerava Jazz Festival: Finland

Flying Note FNCD 9012

Scott Fields

Bitter Love Songs

Clean Feed CF 102 CD

Jason Stein

A Calculus of Loss

Clean Feed CF 104 CD

By Ken Waxman

Arguments exist as to the commercial benefits of free trade agreements. But musicians wish similar treaties existed for their trade. In the period since NFTA, for instance, the ability of performers to travel across borders has become worse. That’s what makes festival season important. Foreign performers ranging from respected veterans to savvy tyros get Canadian exposure. Recent CDs here capture older jazzers’ alchemy and suggest newer players to watch.

Someone who has been on the cutting edge since the 1960s, British saxophonist Evan Parker brings his questing spirit to the emblematically titled A Life Saved By a Spider and Two Doves, Another Timbre at06 Parker’s soprano saxophone is framed by shimmering, pulsating and whirling percussion and electronics. The other musicians – all British – are Mark Wastell playing tam-tam, metal percussion and harmonium, Graham Halliwell using computer and electronics; and Max Eastley on arc, an electro-acoustic monochord.

The unyielding drones from arc and harmonium create the sonic bed on which these improvisations rest. Additional electronic prestidigitation from Halliwell means that Parker’s carefully measured vibrations are seconded by lyrical trills reconstituted from his own output.

Although the saxophonist’s unhurried modulations announce their distinctive presence as they peep from among the seeping tones, all the players reach resolution on “The Chessboard Cherry Tree”. Here turbidity is shattered by ear-wrenching percussion abrasions and crackling electronic wave forms. Most distinctively, Parker’s aviary slurs coagulate and multiply with circular breathing. Utilizing ghost notes and flutter tonguing, his phrases color and connect the proceedings. Eventually the others’ blurred harmonies bond with understated reed trills for a satisfying climax.

If Parker finesses his polyphonic tones than New Orleans-based tenor-saxophonist Kidd Jordan burns through his with molten energy. Unlike Parker, Jordan performs infrequently in Canada. You can hear why this is a loss on LIVE at the Kerava Jazz Festival: Finland Flying Note FNCD 9012, where his unbridled improvising is showcased. Associates of the septuagenarian saxophonist are percussionist Newman Taylor Barker and Kali Z. Fasteau, who expresses herself on mizmar, piano, flute, cello, synthesizer, violin, drums and soprano saxophone.

Announcing themselves on “Trance Dance”, Baker rumbles, pops and rebounds, as Fasteau scrapes, stops and strums the piano’s strings before turning to modal chording. For his part, Jordan divides his sheets of sound between screeching that abuts dog-whistle territory, and slurred, subterranean growls.

Additional mass is added elsewhere when Fasteau packs performances with thick synthesizer reverberations, screechy cello lines or, drumming, joins Baker in producing press rolls. Meanwhile Jordan ratchets from his horn’s top to tip in a nanosecond, utilizing vibrated split tones, double-tongued flattement and side-slipping. With Jordan expelling staccato, free-form patterns and Fasteau utilizing her soprano saxophone’s pinched, ney-like tone, “Sound Science” is another effective track; timbres brush up against one another as identical notes appear in different pitches.

Another improviser who tours as frequently as Parker is guitarist Scott Fields. Chicago-born, Fields moved to Köln, Germany a few years back. On the witty Bitter Love Songs Clean Feed CF 102 CD, he leads a trio completed by a Portuguese rhythm section: bassist Sebastian Gramss and drummer João Lobo. Fields’ compositions, which match liquid guitar runs, slinky bass lines and on-the-beat drumming, are still at variance with their sardonic titles.

For instance “My Love is Love, Your Love is Hate” features a spinning staccato theme from Fields that is stretched with slurred fingering until it seems that it will rupture, but doesn’t. Working in double counterpoint, the massed strings join to produce a barrage of notes, with Fields sounding as if he’s playing microtonally and Gramss slapping a backbeat. Meanwhile Lobo’s flams precede an intermezzo for ringing guitar licks. Note clusters are lobbed between the players on “You Used to Say I Love You but So What Now”. But the strategy is different. Fields’ contrapuntal chording skirts C&W picking, while Gramss resonates handfuls of low-pitched timbres. Eventually as the bassist settles on legato pacing, Fields wraps up with echoing, blues-based licks.

Gramss’ bass work owes its suppleness to sonic extensions from older bass specialists such as New York’s Mark Helias, who has recorded in Toronto. His Open Loose band includes drummer Tom Rainey and tenor saxophonist Tony Malaby.

On Strange Unison, Radio Legs RL 013, while the three interlock instrumentally, Helias’ bass nevertheless set the pace, with resonations ranging from traditional slap bass to staccatissimo runs. Master of understatement, Rainey blunts the backbeat, relying on cymbal cracks and cross-pulsating drags. Skirting atonality with flutter tonguing and pressurized overblowing, Malaby digs into each composition. “Silent Stutter”, for example, finds him masticating hard and heavy slurs into clusters which are subsequently expelled as foghorn blats. In contrast, “Blue Light Down the Line” is taken mid-tempo. As the bassist’s walking is succeeded by mercurial stopping, Malaby builds concentrated phrases. Soon physicality is replaced by moderato coloration as timbres puffed by the saxophone are doubled with arco swipes.

Another vibrant improvised music scene is Chicago’s, spearheaded by reedist Ken Vandermark, a frequent Canadian visitor. Like other established players, Vandermark mentors younger players, one of whom is bass clarinetist Jason Stein. A Calculus of Loss Clean Feed CF 104 CD demonstrates what Stein can do on his own, backed by Kevin Davis’s cello and Mike Pride’s percussion.

As cohesive as the other groups here, one of the trio’s advantages is that Davis takes either the front-line guitar or rhythm-section bass role. The other is that Pride’s percussion includes resonating vibraphone tinctures, cantilevered cymbal patterns plus standard drum beats.

Compositions such as “Caroline and Sam” and “That’s Not a Closet” confirm the three are as comfortable with New music as new Swing. Balanced on vibes reverberations and scratched cello strings, the former connects a near-madrigal melody with extended techniques as Stein sounds an intractable phrase in his body tube ignoring key movement. Based on mood, rather than rhythm, the result is contemplative without sinking to lugubriousness. On the other hand, “That’s Not…” is sprightly enough to suggest mainstream swing, although Stein’s roistering coloratura lines alternating with jagged runs aren’t a standard scenario. Melodious, variations moderate the pace so Davis’ plinks and Pride’s cymbal pops are audible in its resolution.

Some of these players may be on stage this month; others may take a while to visit the area. All are worth hearing.

-- For Whole Note Vol. 13 #9

June 6, 2008

Kidd Jordan/Hamid Drake/William Parker

Palm of Soul
AUM Fidelity AUM038

Temporarily and involuntarily away from his home in the Big Easy due to Hurricane Katrina, tenor saxophonist Kidd Jordan’s playing is more meditative than usual – although just as inspired – on this exceptional trio CD

Partnered by improv’s busiest rhythm section – New York bassist William Parker and Chicago percussionist Hamid Drake – Jordan, who for many years has not only been New Orleans’ most accomplished Free improviser, but often it’s only one, bring a lifetime of studied iconoclasm to the seven compositions here. Cerebral as well as fiery, he knows how to adjust his solid mid-register glottal punctuation and reverberated split tones for maximum impact. Always straightforward – although not straightahead – his improvising includes dirge-like atonal contrafacts of Crescent City classics like “Lonely Avenue” and “The Saints”.

With Parker vibrating gongs and bowls and Drake manipulating frame drum and tabla, Palm of Soul takes on World Music implications. Yet Jordan’s emotional force is such that he subordinates these elements to the honks and slurs that issue from his horn, just as pop and R&B inferences have been individualized during his 50 years as a performer and teacher.

Ignore the comic title, for “Last of the Chicken Wings” most clearly illuminates his reed characteristics. With the others accompanying him percussively, the entire middle section is taken up by the saxophonist using irregular and intense vibrato to experiment with endless possibilities and permutations of the reed line, finally completing the piece with the perfect tongue flourish.

-- Ken Waxman

CODA Issue 329

October 16, 2006

VARIOUS ARTISTS

Live from the Vision Festival
Thirsty Ear THI 57131.2

The next best thing to being there, this combination CD and DVD package offers a distillation of some of the outstanding performances from last year’s Vision Festival in New York’s Lower East Side. Lacking the name recognition of Newport, Montreux, or any other capitalist entity-associated international star festival, in its less than 10 year existence, Vision has still promulgated a unique artistic vision.

Built around the vision of bassist William Parker, it’s a place where pioneering avant gardists from the 1960s mix it up with younger players who are carrying on experimental ideals. It’s cross-cultural, national and international as well, with the musicians showcased on this session arriving from Germany, Korea, Philadelphia, Chicago, Boston, Minneapolis, Valencia, Calif., New Orleans… and Brooklyn,

Substantiating his ubiquity, Parker holds down the bass chair on five of the nine tracks --in five different bands, Fellow bull fiddle masters Tyrone Brown, Reggie Workman and the late Peter Kowald are represented as well.

Longest performance, at more than 11 minutes, is “Crepuscule IV in Powderhorn Park”, which reunites three founding members of Chicago’s Association for the Advancement of Creative Music who now reside in different parts of the country. Minneapolis-based Douglas Ewart shows up with his reed collection -- some of which are homemade -- to improvise with the woodwinds of Brooklyn’s Joseph Jarman. From California, Wadada Leo Smith adds his trumpet to the duo, and the three members of the front line are backed by the unbeatable rhythm section of Chicago’s Hamid Drake and Parker.

Perhaps it’s the strength of the go-for-broke rhythm of the bassist and drummer, but the performance is more convincing than some recent CDs by each of the front line partners. Expelling a mixture of gritty bluesiness and elegant, brassy grace notes, Smith states the theme, which is then elaborated by Jarman’s soprano saxophone. Using whistles and straining his notes sharply to make a point, the saxman turns rubato with a brief stop-time section, which is then echoed by Ewart’s tenor sax undertow and Parker’s perfectly proportioned bass line. Finally the three horns conclude triple forte, with Drake’s rolling roughs giving them enough leverage on which to soar.

The same rhythm team backs up tenor veterans Kidd Jordan from New Orleans and Chicago’s Fred Anderson. Each pushing 70, the extended multiphonics they propel from their horns often mix with a primeval funkiness, hinting at how Johnny Griffin and Eddie “Lockjaw” Davis might have handled Free Jazz. At a little more then four minutes though, “Spirits Came In” is barely long enough to let everyone feel the spirit.

Almost double in length, but flashing by at supersonic speeds is “Bangart 100”, performed by unconventional fiddler Billy Bang, World Saxophone Quartet anchor, baritone saxophonist Hamiet Bluiett, and contemporary composer Jin Hi Kim on Korean komungo. With his unaccompanied attack as reminiscent of hoedown as Heifetz, here Bang’s technique keeps up with his emotionalism. Working the opposite end of his horn’s palate, Bluiett ignites basement tones, altissimo wild pig squeals and growling feline feints. Keeping this all-together fingerpicking on her multi-stringed traditional instrument is Kim.

Other highlights include the definition of “Existence” provided by the duo of Dave Burrell on piano and bassist Brown. Cognizant of jazz history, like the late Jaki Byard, Philly’s piano pride mixes several of the music’s key streams on his keyboard. Initially he outputs high frequency, percussive cadenzas that are as far out as anything practiced by the New Thing, which counted Burrell as a member for his work with Archie Shepp. Later, providing fills behind Brown’s ringing tones, he shows off his lyric side that characterized him as a “song man” when he played with David Murray.

Then there’s Kowald’s stinging, more then 10½-minute solo “Improvisation”. Sometimes appearing to make his bass talk in several voices, the German maestro wraps together pizzicato buzzing strings, vocal drone and some grating, yet impressive arco thrusts into a characteristic show-stopping display.

Running down the outstanding merits of every track would be pointless, since each offers a different perspective on modern free sounds. The weakest piece, in fact, is also the first: “Truth Is Marching In”. Not the Albert Ayler standard, this reunion tune by alto saxophonist Jameel Moondoc’s Muntu quartet, featuring trumpeter Roy Campbell, drummer Rashid Bakr and bassist Parker seems, like the composition’s title, to be more caught up in New Thing revivalism than inventing the music anew. But isn’t nostalgia one construct of reunions?

Couple the more than 70½-minutes of music with the images available on the DVD and you’ll yearn to be in attendance at the Fest next time it takes place. Making light of geography, this VISION package means you can experience some of festival highlights at home.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing:1. Truth is Marching In 2. Existence 3. Bangart 100 4. Crepuscule IV in Powderhorn Park 5. Speech of Form 6. 45 Hours 7. Synchronicity 8. Sprits Came In 9. Improvisation

Personnel: 1. Muntu: Roy Campbell (trumpet); Jameel Moondoc (alto saxophone); William Parker (bass); Rashid Bakr (drums) 2. Dave Burrell (piano); Tyrone Brown (bass) 3. Hamiet Bluiett (baritone saxophone); Billy Bang (violin); Jin Hi Kim (komungo) 4. Wadada Leo Smith (trumpet); Douglas Ewart (bass clarinet, clarinet, tenor saxophone); Joseph Jarman (alto clarinet, bass clarinet, flute, bass flute, alto saxophone); William Parker (bass); Hamid Drake (drums) 5. Mathew Shipp (piano); Mat Manner (viola); William Parker (bass) 6. Rob Brown (alto saxophone); Karen Borca (bassoon); Reggie Workman (bass); Newman Taylor Baker (drums) 7. Ellen Christi (vocals); Rolf Strum (guitar); William Parker (bass); Hamid Drake (drums) 8. Kidd Jordan; Fred Anderson (tenor saxophones); William Parker (bass); Hamid Drake (drums) 9. Peter Kowald (bass)

June 16, 2003

ALAN SILVA/KIDD JORDAN/WILLIAM PARKER

Emancipation Suite #1
Boxholder 023

Dedicated to a Russian inventor/musician (Leon Theremin), an American theorist/composer (George Russell) and a Saturnian who combined these characteristics and many others (Sun Ra) this CD is a sprawling, nearly 57½ minute symphonic performance created by only three improvisers.

It can still be described as symphonic, however because Alan Silva, the American bass player, long-time European expatriate and Free Jazz pioneer, does his work on what he terms the orchestra synthesizer. That too is more than hyperbole as well. For in contrast to many other operatives -- especially in rock -- who employ Robert Moog’s invention for little more than beats and color, Silva takes full advantage of its polyphonic counterpoint. Not surprising for someone who worked with large scale visionaries like Ra and Cecil Taylor, he uses the instrument’s capacity for dynamics and sound separation to its utmost, conjuring up sets and subsets of percussion, horn and string sounds.

One of his partners on this set of unbroken improvisations from 1999’s Vision Festival in New York is Edward “Kidd” Jordan, a tenor saxophonist who almost single-handedly makes up the free improv scene in New Orleans. Woefully underrecorded until recently, Jordan is another stay-at-home pedagogue and sax master like Chicago’s Fred Anderson or Detroit’s Faruq Z. Bey. Someone who has introduced his own variation on the reed legacy of John Coltrane, he’s in fine fettle on the suite’s many sequences, given titles on the disc for easy reference.

Third participant is bassist William Parker, one of the chief organizers and cheerleaders for Manhattan’s Lower East Side scene, who has probably been as well documented on record, as Jordan has been ignored. His presence exposes the session’s one major drawback though.

Because the suite was recorded live, the power and volume of the synthesizer overwhelms Parker’s sound. So most of the time all that you hear is Jordan expending his ingenuity and energy to play over Silva’s orchestral accompaniment. His strengths coupled with the sonic variations that arise from Silva’s instrument often make the endproduct resemble one of those and energy-saxist-meets-big-band date from the 1970s, like Gato Barbieri with the Jazz Composer's Orchestra, Peter Brötzmann with Globe Unity or John Gilmore with the Arkestra.

Although Silva’s booming, cavernous tones sometimes appear to be even louder than that produced by a conventional band, on “Deliverance” you can still hear Jordan pressing on unperturbed, producing elongated notes, first in a moderated mid-range, then deep from resonant baritone tones, than blasting up into freak altissimo. Although the visual image you get is that of an unarmed bicyclist facing a gigantic army tank in Beijing’s Tiananmen Square, the interplay is a lot more benign than that. Plus, while the two often get louder and wilder, as the created colors take up more aural space, Silva is obviously commenting on what the saxophonist is playing.

The audience participates too, bursting into spontaneous applause when Jordan introduces phrases from Trane’s “Sun Ship” into his solo. Also, Silva does moderate his barrage at times, using his string setting to turn unexpectedly lyrical, and it’s then that you’re suddenly able to hear the odd plink and pluck from Parker. That should give you an ides of how powerfully the bassist plays, if he can sometimes overcome an electricity-fuelled instrument with his acoustic.

But it’s still mostly Silva and Jordan’s show. As part of an a cappella section on “Independence”, for instance, the saxophonist appears to be testing and weighing every note he creates, balancing the heft of each variation against what he’s trying to create. Later, on “Liberation”, Jordan sometimes literally appears to be vibrating sounds out of his horn’s body, then inventing booming foghorn blasts to clear the air. Finally on the same track, the reed pulses that could have been linked to “A Love Supreme” transmute into quasi-R&B phrases, straight from the Crescent City. With Silva somewhat muted, Jordan mocks or at least ignores those oh-so-earnest 1960s’ hippie-style titles and turns from supple duple note reed biting to a version of Ray Charles’ “Lonely Avenue” prodding the synth into a funky sweet organ groove.

Audience input and the excitement of the moment can sometimes make musicians overvalue live sessions. At a different part of the room Parker’s bass was much more audible that night. Yet since the mikes didn’t capture this, it unbalances what went on, it’s as if you’re only seeing two sizes of a triangle.

So while this CD is an excellent showcase for Jordan and Silva, if the suite performance faced the judges at the Winter Olympics, Jordan would earn a 6.0, Silva a 4.5 and Parker declared hors combat because of the sound. This all adds up to a silver medal -- yet it could have been gold.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Introduction by Patricia Parker 2. Part I: To Free From Bondage 3. Part II: Deliverance 4. Part III: Freedom 5. Part IV: Independence 6. Part V: Liberation 7.

Coda

Personnel: Kidd Jordan (tenor saxophone); Alan Silva (orchestra synthesizer); William Parker (bass)

May 10, 2002