Today’s Questions

Talking with a friend the other night about DevraDoWrite (why do I blog is an oft asked question) I heard myself say that I like to encourage people to think about things. It seems that more and more often I have been posting my thoughts followed by some variation of “and what do you think?” I can’t say that I’ve gotten many responding emails, but I figure that y’all are just too busy to write in. So I continue to make my statements, profer a link or three for you to puruse, and hope that you mull over a thought or two that might not otherwise have crossed your mind.

Three items in today’s New York Times caught my fleeting interest.

1. Miles Davis is being inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Does he belong there? Ben Ratliff reports. (I am not sure if online access to some or all of The New York Times stories is limited to subscribers, so my apologies if these links do not work for you.)

2. Is there room for “cute” on Broadway? Today Ben Brantley reviews the just opened show based on the music of Johnny Cash. He writes “Ring of Fire wrestles with a really bad case of the cutes” — but he allows that some people like that sort of thing; “If so, then let Ring of Fire transport you to a bygone era — not the vintage years of the Grand Ole Opry or bouncy old Broadway, but the age of The Lawrence Welk Show and Sing Along With Mitch.” (The show is produced by Richard Maltby, who I will be interviewing on Thursday. More about that/him later.)

3. Should we spend money taking care of old stuff? Hiring staff to to care for manuscripts is a huge financial problem for most institutions. Some might think that “memorabilia” is trivial and not worthy of the expense, but the value of experienced research specialists, curators and archivists should not be underestimated. Caring for the artifacts is only one vital component, as is knowing what is there with an appreciation for what these things might mean now and in the future. Last week at Juilliard I saw photos from the 1930s and 40s, program flyers as I’ve mentioned previously, student manuals about the schools rules and regulations (in some respects they are more like primers in ettiquette), and I now have a copy of Luther Hendreson’s scholastic transcript (he was a good student). I am indebted to Juilliard archivist Jeni Dahmus for the time she spent putting together a cart full of goodies for me to see, and to her boss, Jane Gottlieb, who welcomed me so graciously and who is mentioned in today’s article “Juilliard’s Library Braces for New Role.”

Passing Judgement

I recently heard a pianist who has great facility, a voluminous repertoire, and knows all the correct chord changes. I heard someone describe this musician as “a cocktail pianist,” but I disagree. I heard a depth of harmonic understanding far greater than that which I’d expect from “a cocktail pianist.” So why then did the performance leave me cold?

Several reasons, including a lack of swing and an overabundance of cleverness. The music was so busy going here, there and everywhere that it never found a groove, and I could never get a good foot-tap going. But most off-putting was that I could hear all the hard work that was going into the performance. With each lean into the piano and up-tic of a shoulder I could see the brain gears engaged and grinding away to create intricate segues between tunes and find just the right bar into which a clever musical quotation could be inserted.

I closed my eyes, but even then the performance was painstaking, and therein, I believe, lays a problem. Great works — be they musical, literary, fine art, or theatrical — should feel effortless. We the audience, want to experience the end result, at least at performance time. I add that “at least at performance time” caveat to acknowledge our interest in behind-the-scenes processes – an attraction well plumbed by ArtistShare. But when we see or hear the heavy lifting and mental machinations during a performance, when we see the man behind the curtain, the magic disappears.

So, if the appearance of effortlessness is one criteria for a great performance, what else? What makes an artist great rather than average?

  • Superior technical skill?
  • Emotional presence?
  • Unique sound or style?

I would posit that many artists have one or two of these attributes, but that only those few who have the whole package become the great masters or legends in their field. Having said that, I must also acknowledge the point made by Owen Cordle, jazz writer for the News and Observer in Raleigh, North Carolina, and also JazzTimes. In an account shared online courtesy of Rifftides, Owen writes “Sometimes the spirit of a thing can give you hope and heal you even when the source isn’t perfect. ” I agree. Here’s another excerpt (read the full account here):

This may sound odd, but part of the joy came from watching Lou grab bits and pieces of the heads and sometimes feel his way through the first improvised chorus or part thereof and then nail the chord changes solidly the next time around. He was fallible and human but a quick study. And that was the beauty of it — recovery, ingenuity, memory and the musical ear in action on the wing.

I’d likely have felt the same way had I been there. What leaves me cold is not so much the awareness of the “work” being done as the purpose of that work. When the goal is communicating the essence of the music, all is well, but when the stylistic trappings, technique and cleverness become the point unto themselves, then all is lost. This is true of great writing as well as great music; if the style screams “look at me,” it is usually to cover up some deficit. I’m hoping that some of my esteemed colleagues and DevraDoWrite readers will weigh in with their thoughts via email.

And here’s one more thought to consider. Should an artist’s personal reputation matter? Whether factual or speculated, based on press or personal knowledge, should anything other than the person’s artistic ability influence our choices of consumption? Clearly publicity and advertising do influence us, but should that be so? Perhaps I am missing out when I refuse to pick up a book by Frey just because I think he’s a liar. Being a liar doesn’t preclude being a good writer, at least not technically. And I won’t even consider reading a book by someone named Cupcake, partly because of the Frey fallout, partly because of her name, and partly because I’m sick of the look-at-my-sorry-life-now-better memoirs. None of these are good reasons to dismiss a work unseen, but hey, I’m only human and that’s my reaction. I’m glad I became a Sinatra fan before I heard that he wasn’t always such a nice guy. It’s also a good thing I read “In Cold Blood” before I found out that Capote made stuff up and exploited his subjects and Harper Lee too. Hmmm.

I’ve Got Mail: Lady Carol Sets the Record Straight

I thought my memory might be a little fuzzy, but I was close. I combined two sessions, both in Japan and just days apart, into one recollection shared in my post in the wee small hours of this morning/last night. But I knew there was a story to it. Here it is in the words of Carol Sloane:

Dear D: “Sophisticated Lady” was not a “direct to disc”, but there is a nice bass/voice duet on it. It was the first recording my Japanese host/concert promoter arranged for me, so I sang the songs they specifically requested. You’re right: it does feature Roland, George and Richie. The date was October 16, 1977. The direct to disc was a few days later, just Roland and George and me, on October 23:

The memory of that date is still fresh in my brain: Mraz arrived quite exhausted after recording at a separate studio for about 10 hours; Roland had exquisite gout pain in his right foot, and I had a MAJOR head cold. No sneezing or blowing your nose between takes on a D-T-D … God, we were three miserable, tired, uncomfortable people. And we did experience one break-down … say about four tunes in … which necessitated going back to the top. I swore I’d never put myself through that sort of torture ever again. And I never did. I also never did quite agree with the technicians that D-T-D produced a finer-sounding recording.

Carol Sloane. Friday. Be There.

Okay, I’m biased. Carol is a longtime friend and we were nightclub running buddies more years ago than either of us would like to count. Recently Jerry Jazz Musician did a roundup asking various artists to name a record session that they would like to have been at — I would like to have been present when Carol recorded direct-to-disc in Japan with Roland Hanna on piano, George Mraz on bass and Richie Pratt on drums. When that album first came out direct-to-disc was brand new technology and all her New York jazz friends were in awe, especially of the track that opened with just voice and bass. I think this was the Sophisticated Lady album was later released by Audiophile, but I’m not positive. Carol?

This Friday night, March 3rd, radio host Steve Schwartz is doing a Carol Sloane birthday show. Tune in to WGBH, 89.7 FM, 8 PM to midnight Eastern time. If you’re out of range, listen online: go to www.wgbh.org/jazz and click on “Jazz From Studio Four.”

If you are already a fan, you won’t want to miss it. If you’re not familiar with her work, you owe it to yourself to give a listen. You should also check out her web site.

A Query From England

A DevraDoWrite reader has written in with a query that I can’t answer:

In 1966, the Hampton Hawes trio (with Red Mitchell & Donald Bailey) recorded ‘live’ for Contemporary Records at Mitchell’s Studio Club in Los Angeles (the ‘Mitchell’ in question was no relation to Red, the bassist). Two LP albums were subsequently issued: “The Séance” and “I’m All Smiles”. My question is: Do you – or does anyone among your many readers happen to recall the address of this particular club?

I have submitted this question to some of my fellow jazz writers and researchers, but no one has replied as yet. If you have any memories of Mitchell’s Studio Club, please drop me an email.

Mis(s)Information

I got it wrong – Gene Di Novi’s concert is tomorrow night, Tuesday the 28th. Not tonight. It’s a good thing he just called, because I was about to head out in the pouring rain to see/hear him. So, my husband wants to know, “don’t you know what day it is?” I am picturing the Jazz Bakery calendar in my mind and Di Novi is clearly in the second box. So I go to the web site and sure enough, there it is, second box…but wait! Aren’t calendars supposed to show the weeks starting with Sunday? Isn’t that standard? Normal? My friends (husband, too) may well ask who am I to lean toward “normal”? And hasn’t Ruth been starting her Jazz Bakery calendars with Mondays all along? Well, yes. And I am sure that there are precedents for this alternate structure — that it must be normal to some culture or subculture somewhere. Again, something to be researched, but not right now. Right now I have to become a domestic goddess and cook dinner.

Maria Schneider at Disney Hall

What can I write about Maria Schneider’s Disney Hall concert after Mr. Rifftides has so eloquently covered the main points in his Seattle report? – Scott Robinson’s “technical control and emotional range” the breadth and depth of Steve Wilson’s soprano sax solo, a description of Maria’s childhood home (Windom, MN), and memorable solos by Ingrid Jensen and others, not to mention the longevity of the band and loyalty of the musicians. The last line in the Maria Schneider at Jazz Alley posting is so perfect that I wish I had thought to write those three simple sentences. So what more can I tell you?

Well, for starters, I’d like to digress. Just before heading off to Seattle to see the band, Rifftides mentioned big band economics: “There must be staggering economics involved in transporting a big band from New York to the west, then up and down the coast. I’m glad that it can still be done.” I’m here to tell you that it can’t be done, not without underwriting or just plain going in the hole. Promoters do not pay jazz artists enough to cover the transportation, rooms, and musicians’ fees for small groups let alone big bands. That’s why so many artists come to town alone and “pick up” local musicians. Having been Maria’s manager at one time, I know that she pays her musicians well (especially compared to some other leaders) and that on occassion she has netted less on a gig than anyone else in the band. I have even seen her take a loss (yes, pay out of her own pocket) because for the sake of the music she wants more rehearsal time and pays for that as well. Add in manager and agent commissions and an artist’s slice of the pie is often just a sliver.

Of course, while artists pay out those commissions, as a Composer (note the capital C, signifying a difference from those musicians who also happen to write some tunes), Maria also receives Commissions; a number of schools and organizations have commissioned compositions, several of which were featured on the program. You’ve got to have something to live on while you sit in a room and write your heart out.

Now, about the concert — the benefit of a concert venue over that of a club is that the listener gets to hear what amounts to two sets, and the performer/leader, in this case Maria, gets to stretch out the building tension and moments of release; the end of the first half is climactic, but the stakes increase as even greater heights are scaled in the second half.

Maria opened the program with Concert in the Garden, a piece commissioned by The Kaye Playhouse at Hunter College and the title track of her Grammy winning CD. (I would be remiss if I did not note here that the concert took place on Grammy night, mere blocks away from the Staples Center where her friend and colleague Billy Childs won this year’s jazz composer award, an announcement Maria shared with great joy from the stage.) Featuring Gary Versace on accordion, Ben Monder on guitar, and Frank Kimbrough on piano, the audience plunged headlong into Maria’s world of unique and complex aural textures.

The second selection is actually part one of a three-part suite (Three Romances commissioned by the University of Miami School of Music). Choro Dançado, influenced by the Brazilian choro (pronounced SHOH-roh), has amazing energy and sweet rhythms that grew amazingly intricate underneath a soaring melody, Rich Perry’s solo, and richly thick harmonies with a baritone bottom do deep as to be tuba-esque. In Portuguese the word choro means “to cry.” The third piece, Journey Home (from her Allégresse CD) featured saxman Charlie Pillow, a trombone solo by Rock Ciccarone, very tasty drum licks by Clarence Penn, and a surprise ending.

The first half culminated with one of my personal favorites, El Viento. This, too, was a commission (Carnegie Hall, 1994). Just as Mr. Rifftides said of Robinson’s Sea of Tranquility solo, so will I say of El Viento soloists Ben Monder, Larry Farrell and Greg Gisbert, “familiarity breeds insights.”– they have evolved since their 1995 recording of this piece on the Coming About CD. Many of Maria’s compositions are internal landscapes and I imagine riding the wind (el viento) through Maria’s mind, following the twists and turns and changes of mood, truly a journey, and one that ends with orgasmic intensities followed by the sweet release of an afterglow embrace. A great way to end the first half and leave the audience wanting more.

During intermission I saw many notables in the audience – conductor Esa-Pekka Salonen, vocalist Dianne Reeves (who also won a Grammy that day – hats off to her wonderful performances in the movie “Good Night, And Good Luck”), Don Grusin, and Peter Sellars, to name a few. I am really sorry that the concert was labeled as “jazz,” because the classical snobs would have loved it had they deigned to come.

The second half opened with a brand new piece, a swaying, hip, poly-rhythmic Peruvian-influenced composition – I think the title is Landau. I don’t know how two cajón players (John Wikan and Peruvian percussionist Hugo Alcaraz) and a drummer (Clarence Penn) can articulate such a multi-metered collage without tripping over themselves and each other. Add in Scott Robinson on clarinet and you’re in heaven, or Peru, or anywhere other than here.

The next two compositions The Pretty Road and Sky Blue were well-covered by Mr. Rifftides. All I might add is that The Pretty Road was commissioned by a group of Massachusetts colleges, and Sky Blue, a poignant and crystalline dedication to her friend, Kate, who died after a long and valiant battle with cancer, was debuted a few years ago at The Kaye Playhouse at Hunter College.

The last piece was another personal favorite: Hang Gliding (it’s also on the Allégresse CD). First you are lulled by what Maria describes as “hanging on this thermal” depicted by Greg Gisbert, and then follows Donny McCaslin’s multi-metered scary descent on saxophone until finally you land gently on the beach. This piece is so exhilarating that it makes me want to go hang gliding, and that’s saying a lot ‘cause I am terrified of heights. Truth be told, there was an encore, but I don’t remember anything after Hang Gliding.

If by any chance you are not familiar with Maria’s music, please rectify the situation as soon as possible…now would be good. Here’s her website – click on ‘maria Schneider radio’ button, top right corner of your screen, and while you’re listening, pick out your participation level in one or more of her wonderful projects.

Thoughts TK

Maria Schneider Orchestra played a wonderful concert at Disney Hall last night, about which I plan to tell you in detail, but not tonight. I will tell you now that Esa-Pekka Salonen was in the audience, as was Dianne Reeves (straight from her Grammy win — congrats to you Dianne), Don Grusin, Peter Sellers and lots of other wonderfully creative folks. The orchestra was well-received, two standing O’s and an encore. Anyway, more later. My mother is in town visiting for a long weekend, so bloging may be light for the next day or three.

If you don’t know what TK means, read this and this.

IAJE & NEA: The Last Chorus continued

So where was I? Oh yes, the show was… terrific, of course.

Vocal Legacy opened with a bright and breezy one-two-punch, combing The Great City (Clairdee) with Sunday In New York (Henry Johnson). After the first song, Nancy Wilson took the stage, not to sing, but to support the work of these fine performers. (She said she’d been coaching Henry by phone on his singing and she is pleased with the results.) In fact, she liked them so much that she took a seat in the back of the room and stayed to hear most of the show, slipping out just before the set was over.

In keeping with the vocal legacy theme, the opening songs were in salute to Shirley Horn. Other selections were inspired by artists as diverse as Joe Williams, Donny Hathaway, Helen Humes, Johnny Hartman, and Ernestine Anderson. When I say “inspired by” all that I mean to imply is that Clairdee and Henry are well-versed in the history of their music, and that they have been touched or moved by particular performances. But don’t think, not even for a moment, that Vocal Legacy is another new act attempting to resurrect or imitate the work of others. Clairdee and Henry both have their own sounds and their own unique and contemporary approaches to the music. What is “old school” is their attitude – it’s all about good music and entertaining the audience, none of that “aren’t-I-great” and “see-how-fast-I-can-play” nonsense.

My personal favorites are the medleys, or pairings, as Clairdee likes to call them. (“Like pairing a gourmet dish with a fine wine.”) Strictly speaking, combining two songs does not a medley make. Looking up medley in the Harvard Concise Dictionary of Music, one is referred to the entry for potpourri: “A medley of popular tunes…played in succession, connected by a few measures of introduction or modulation.” Nor is Webster’s of any use here: “A piece of music arranged from a series of melodies from various other sources.” Neither definition reflects the effects achieved by weaving together two disparate yet harmonically compatible songs, commingling their not only their musical structures but their lyrical intentions as well. So call it what you will, I’ll settle for calling it great music. Here’s the set list:

The Great City + Sunday In New York
Do Something
After You’ve Gone
Summertime
Deed I Do
My One & Only Love + Why Did I Choose You
All They Way
Someone Else Is Steppin’ In
They Can’t Take That Away From Me
For All We Know
Alright, Okay, You Win

The audience encompassed myriad ages and ethnicities. From my vantage point, standing on the side of the room near the front, I saw a lot of toe-tapping and smiles all around. After the show, many stopped to share their enthusiasm with the musicians and with John, including Chicago deejay Marsha Noble, veteran record producer Herb Wong (he loved those “entrancing duets”), radio promoter Neil Sapper, and Kevin Calabro from Hyena Records (distributors of Clairdee’s CD Music Moves).

As for the audio clip that I’d hoped to post — sorry. I’m glad that when I first mentioned it I used that every-important caveat, “if.” The powers that be (management, in this case) have decreed that the recording is a great tool for self-evaluation, but not of a quality that they wish to share with the public. So, you’ll just have to wait for the professionally recorded duets, or catch Clairdee and Henry Johnson together in a live performance. You know I’ll be cluing you in when the time comes.

Bad News/Good News

The bad news is that I got hung up in the studio all afternoon and have to go back again today, so I have not finished writing up my account of the Vocal Legacy debut at IAJE. The good news is that while in the studio those genius engineers were able to help me retrieve data from my Sony mini disc. What was on it? A “bootleg” recording of the Vocal Legacy debut! If I can create a snipet of reasonable quality, I will post it. So please hang in there and check back again later. It’s now Friday at 1:30 AM and I’m going to catch a few hours sleep. I’ll try to catch up by nightfall, but if not, certainly over the weekend.