The Cat's Pajamas

Eddie Gale - Ghetto Music

Sat, 05 Dec 2009 20:54:29 -0500

Eddie Gale is probably best known for playing the trumpet with the Sun Ra Arkestra. He appears not to have had a particularly prolific solo career (based on my cursory search of the web), but Ghetto Music really stands out, not just amongst his other work, but in general.

As a drummer, I consider one of the best features of this album to be Richard Hacket and Thomas Holman’s drumming. These two do an incredible job of framing each song on this album with a hard groove, and with great twitchy improvisational work at the same time. About two minutes into the second track “Fulton Street” (Fulton Street, baaaby) Gale takes a solo, and I think that more notable than the solo itself is the work of the rhythm section. These two drummers cooperate with one another, and with the bassists (Judah Samual and James Reid) to create a dense, complex, yet consumable typhoon of sound. Something I especially like is that at any given point, at least one of the drummers is feverishly hammering out time on a ride cymbal, and over this is a flurry of snare/tom fills that vary between post-bop polyrhythms and stiff drum corps riffs.

The doubling of the bass and drum parts is an interesting move, but it is in kind with the spirit of this album — 17 musicians perform on this record, 11 of whom are “The Noble Gale Singers”, ostensibly led by Joann Gale. The sound of this record is emotionally and acoustically dense. It is likely in part due to the fact that it is the sum of 17 musicians.

This album wrangles its listener in with The Rain. The track begins with a syrupy guitar riff, and the sweet voice of Joann Gale. The rhythms section announces the song’s actual beginning about a minute later, with a solid groove in 6 beats, underscored by a somewhat simple ostinato part on the bass. A vocal/guitar solo punctuates the song, about mid-way through, and sets up a second groove section, during which the choir fills out the lyrics, and Gale (Eddie, this time) goes into a solo that is a really nice contrast to the spastic rhythm parts. He plays a much more legato style than the rest of the band, and in counterpoint to the vocal part (it really feels like a non-sequitur from the vocal part, but in a good way).

Fulton Street really unleashes the rhythm section in force. The song is also structured in kind of an interesting way. There are short ‘verse’ sections, and then some abrupt percussion call and response bits. The horns come in, after this, and then everyone cuts in unison. This sequence is repeated several times, and in my view, this gives the song a social spirit, in a way that A/B/A/B + maniacal soloing generally doesn’t. By virtue of the requirement for group coordination in sections like this, the music seems to better embody the feeling of the group.

A Understanding (An Understanding? Track listing is “A Understanding”) is the ‘ballad’ of the album, if it can be called that. It is mysterious, and captivating, and includes some really beautiful parts for the tenor sax, as well as some moral support from the fidgety rhythm section. The song’s soothing sound tapers into an ending that serves as a hard segue into A Walk With Thee.

A Walk With Thee is a march, that starts with a cool chanting part in a minor key. The bass and percussion stick to ostinato, and, again, something between hard bop and a marching band. This track emphatically features the horns, and they run the show for the most part, with the percussion boiling up to meet them from time to time.

Unfortunately, I haven’t spent enough time with The Coming of Gwilu to have any real good take on what it is all about, and at 13+ minutes, it would likely be an undertaking to really consume it in a meaningful way in short order. As a result, I’m going to abstain writing anything more about it, than the following: First, the vocal part sounds great — slightly meloncholy, and possibly in another language (some african language perhaps? Scat?) Second, the steel drum, tin whistle, pots, pans, washboard, etc came out for this track, and that makes the rhythm part seem a little more playful than on the other tracks, where the percussion is dense and imposing.

Ornette Coleman - Science Fiction (pt. 1?)

Thu, 01 Oct 2009 14:01:00 -0400

It has been a while, while I was away in New York, but I was eager to get back into the swing of things, so the first weekend I was back, I went to the record store and got some new stuff. Along with a sort of mediocre-in-hindsight record by The Fourth Way, I picked up Ornette Coleman’s record Science Fiction.

In 1971, Coleman made this record, more than 10 years after Free Jazz, and more than 5 years after Coletrane’s Ascension record. I mention these two records here because they give context to Science Fiction, and are no doubt strong conceptual contributors. Science Fiction is a great free jazz record - Coleman’s wailing sax, Ed Blackwell and Billy Higgins’ fevered (and cooperative) drumming, and some really touching bass parts played by Charlie Haden. A variety of trumpet players play on the record, varying by track. With this cast of characters, some of whom had played with Coleman for upwards of 15 years at this point, S.F. is a well-executed, mostly improvised jazz recording. There are a couple of things which really set it apart, however, making it not just a good example of a genre that, by 1971 was beginning to be well-explored.

First of all, the opening track on side one “What Reason Could I Give” is a good example of how atonal and rhythmically composition and improvisation can be beautiful music. The sound is textural, with little coherent movement by the players, but this gives rise to subtle, spontaneous harmony. In addition, when coherence does emerge, it is surprising and in juxtaposition to the prevailing disorder makes your listening brain really light up.

All of these things are great, but what makes this track really great is the experimental jump made by Coleman in bringing in a syrupy female vocalist to sing over everything. Asha Puthli, on what, according to Wikipedia, is her first recording repeatedly questions listeners: “what reason could I give?” By contributing her voice, she rounds out the song’s seven part ensemble. Less frequently than saxophone or trumpet does a female vocal part ‘run the show’ on a free jazz album, but this track shows that not only does it work, but it really sounds great.

Side one moves on to its second track Civilization Day. Which, while technically sound, and very dense, turns out to be a lack-luster romp, living as a scaffold for improvisation which lacks the magic of that on the first track.

After this, the first side finishes strong, though. Street Woman is a Coleman classic. The recognizable opening riff leads into solos in his characteristic crying timbre, held up by some intricately woven bass/drum duos. Some way into the track, everyone lays out, and gives Haden a chance to shine on bass. His solo here plays with the established melody (the opening riff) in an interesting way. With a lot of flourish, and colorful alterations, he manipulates the riff, varying it in tempo and time, and by inverting and interleaving it spontaneously. This leaves the flavor of the song intact, but leaves room for Haden to really show what he can do on bass. At the same time, the solo isn’t just a demonstration of his skill as a bassist, which sometimes leaves technically complex solos feeling robotic. Instead, the song remains emotionally charged, and carries its intensity to the song’s end.

The final track on side one is the album’s title track. It is especially free; of melodic and rhythmic structure. It is a wave of sound, with a dissonant, confused texture to it, which sometimes emerges in free jazz work. The dissonance lends itself as an eerie backdrop to the recital of a poem written and performed by David Henderson. The poem’s content is fairly nebulous, addressing human existence, and religion, to name a few of its themes. In my view, the poem’s content is unimportant. As with the experimental (and successful) use of a female vocalist on the first track, this track goes further if the poem’s recital is considered more like an instrument. Henderson’s unusual cadence and his monotone, but enunciative speech contribute to the overall spooky feel of this track.

That is the dirt on side one. I haven’t yet spent enough time listening to side two to say anything about it, so I’ll leave that for the future. Haden’s bass, Puthli’s sweet voice, and Coleman’s evokative whine, will likely keep Science Fiction near the top of my stack for a while.

Mingus Mingus Mingus Mingus Mingus

Sun, 05 Apr 2009 03:53:46 -0400

Well, I am suddenly, and officially a big fan of Charles Mingus. Up until tonight, I didn’t really know a lot about his music. I have had a bootlegged digital version of an album of him playing the piano, and a vinyl version of an album of his entitled Three Worlds of Drums. Then, a couple weeks ago I picked up Let My Children Hear Music on vinyl.

I was very impressed by Let My Children Hear Music. I wanted more, but I just hadn’t gotten around to getting it, nor had I chanced across it. Then, earlier tonight, I picked up some new records, and after I got back, I went on a minor downloading spree. Amongst all this new music ended up being The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady. To say I was very impressed by this album, like I was Let My Children Hear Music, is an understatement.

I am trying to pinpoint exactly what it is about these two albums that I like so much. The first thing is that they have a dense “vertical” component. What I mean by this is that there is a great deal of layering of the parts played on them each. It seems like a common theme for these pieces to begin with a fanfare of bawdy horns, and to lead into a swinging melody which sets up the remainder. It all seems really carefully planned, but at the same time, surprisingly natural — it doesn’t have any rigidity to it, in spite of the fact that it has clearly been meticulously constructed in advance (for the most part at least).

At several points (especially on Black Saint), something unexpected emerges from the established sound. On the first and last track of Black Saint, it is a non-sequitur Spanish guitar part. On Let My Children Hear Music, there is an heavily orchestrally accompanied reading of a poem (read by Mingus himself). These bizarre elements complement the core of solid composition, blaring horns, and thunderous, symphonic percussion (in contrast to, say, rock percussion, or jazz percussion, a la Billy Cobham). The change in tone doesn’t upset the precise feel of it all; It has been carefully worked in such as to be different overtly, but not to drastically vary stylistically. Mingus somehow makes spoken word poetry seem compositionally natural. That takes some skill.

I think that, by far, the most impressive feature of both albums is the fact that they are so intricately composed. No track on either of these albums feels like an excuse for some jazz musicians to go ahead and improvise. This is a stark contrast to some other jazz which is actually quite good, but less (or at least less *obviously*) composed. Specifically, the work of Ornette Coleman and Eric Dolphy come to mind when I think of the contrast to Mingus’ compositional style. Coleman and Dolphy set the tone and build the theme of the piece, but the bulk of the presentation is devoted to their chops, or to the collective chops of the group. Mingus’ work, on the other hand is more devoted to the structure and specific layering of sounds and melodies, to produce songs that sound almost cinematic. It is as though each of these records is the soundtrack to a movie which doesn’t exist, or the score to a wild, suggestive 1930’s cabaret performance. It is really captivating to listen to.

I plan to devote more time to listening to Charles Mingus, and perhaps I will have something more insightful to say about his work in the future, but I couldn’t contain myself tonight when I was listening to this new album, I had to say something about it.

Ethiopiques

Sun, 22 Mar 2009 21:30:11 -0400

Not so recently, I watched an excellent movie called Broken Flowers. Bill Murray plays a depressed, aging Don Juan who learns he has a son he didn’t know he had. His apparently rastafarian private eye friend sends him on a journey to connect with his exes to hunt down his son, and his son’s mother. The movie does a great job of making each meeting trick the audience into thinking that he has found his lost family, and so it keeps things interesting and mysterious. The mystery is also supported throughout the movie by an incredible soundtrack composed by an Ethiopian jazz musician/composer Mulatu Astatke. I’ll leave the specifics of his life to be discussed elsewhere, and focus on his unique musical style.

His music is clearly heavily influenced by the music of the west, but also feels distinctly foreign at times to my ears, which up to this point have been deprived of Ethiopian sounds. The drums in his music tend to be busy, but mixed (and/or played) very quietly for the most part. In addition to this, the drum parts include a mixture of traditional jazz kit playing, as well as some really unique (and I guess east African influenced) hand drum playing. There is an interesting rhythmic quality that emerges, and because it is all muted down below the level of the other instruments, it feels like these serve as a substrate on which the rest of the music is laid out.

The bass parts on the songs that I have heard are tightly coupled, compositionally to the melody parts, which are primarily on reeds (I think, but I’m not exactly sure what some of the instrumentation is), and on keys. The bass parts make use of scales that provide an interesting and mysterious quality that I think is uncommon in the music of the west. This, plus the meandering saxophone parts make for a really interesting and dynamic sound.

Learning about Mulatu Astatke by watching Broken Flowers has opened my eyes to an awesome collection of music of this style, all composed by composers from within, or around Ethiopia. This collection is called Ethiopiques, and was compiled to ensure that the incredible music made in this area is available. I am just now having a chance to familiarize myself with the albums individually, but even within the collection, there is a huge amount of diversity. Some is instrumental, some vocal. Some is very funky, some comes close to syrupy and more like a ballad than a dance track. All of it seems to have the interesting property that it combines some compositional techniques from the jazz of the 60s-80s with the distinct sound of Ethiopian traditional music, by way of lyrics, rhythm parts, or melodic structure. I hope to break down this collection with more detail, when I’ve had a chance to better digest it, and learn about the subtlety of each of its component albums.

Sonny Rollins

Thu, 05 Mar 2009 01:47:17 -0500

I have been on a serious jazz binge recently, and three artists have really stood out amongst the new listening I’ve been doing.

First, Sonny Rollins. Just browsing the discography on his wikipedia page suggests how prolific a career he has had. There are 39 recordings listed, which were recorded before 1960! And there are as many from 1960 onward. He has of course worked with the greats - Miles Davis, Thelonius Monk, John Coltrane (though only on one track ever), Max Roach, Elvin Jones, Art Blakey and Clifford Brown, to name a few.

His music has a unique character, which is very punctuated and rhythmic. This fact is articulated well in a segment on Rollins in Ken Burns’ Jazz (the PBS documentary). I forget who, but during the segment, someone discusses the way that Rollins solos. It is interesting because in some cases, his solos rarely consist of more than three or five different pitches. The allure of solos like this is that they become allusions to the percussion work on the tunes. St. Thomas, which is probably Rollins’ most famous piece is a good example of this. On an album recorded Live in Japan (I think it could be a bootleg that I’ve got — it is undated, and from the internet) his solos on St. Thomas rehash the main theme, but in a way that is almost a pun of the wide-spectrum calypso melody. For measure after measure, the solo hops between two or three notes only, and there are several points where Rollins’ playing puts complete focus on rhythmic structure, as opposed to melody. This is interesting because for this duration, it puts the sax in a group with the drummer and the keys player, instead of a logically segregated top-layer to the piece, residing above the rhythm section.

As a drummer, I love the way that this puts pressure on the idea that lead parts need be melody and then rhythm — rhythmic form is intricate and interesting, and conveys a song’s theme to a listener differently. In addition to this, simplifying the melodic structure lets players incorporate more technically extreme rhythmic elements which may, in a more melodically intricate solo, result in technical overcrowding (or just be impossible to play!)

A final note on Rollins’ work, and for this, I really wish I knew when the recording that I have was recorded. In Rollins’ playing on this recording, I can hear what seem like stylistic suggestions of the themes in Coltrane’s A Love Supreme during some of the more melodic stretches. [An aside: I plan to post on A Love Supreme, as I consider it amongst the best jazz that exists, and it is my personal favorite record]. Anyway, this potential stylistic similarity is interesting, and leads me to wonder in which direction the influence went in this case — was A Love Supreme so ground-breakingly awesome because of Sonny Rollins’ influence on Coltrane? Or was it that Coltrane’s composition and playing had an effect on Rollins’ style later in his career (when, perhaps this recording that I have was recorded)? Since Rollins was so active before 1960, and A Love Supreme was made in 1965, I have to imagine that Coltrane’s work was inspired by Rollins’ work. The fact that these two are both so great individually kind of makes it disappointing that they only recorded one track on one album together (Tenor Madness in 1959). I haven’t heard this, but this review has some discussion on how they ended up getting together on this one.

I think that there is definitely room for more Sonny Rollins in my collection, and I hope to do some more listening to broaden my experience with his work.

Hello, World!

Fri, 27 Feb 2009 05:00:00 -0500

Well, this post signifies the “hello, world” moment for this blog. I am not sure what exactly I intend to write about here, but I have a feeling it is going to be a combination of things about music, issues in computer architecture, sitcoms from the 1990s, things I learn about in Brain Class, and anything I come across that I think is interesting. I am going to try to include a note on something music-pertinent with each post, and I am going to make an attempt to post on a reasonably regular basis.