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Category: musical thoughts

Monday, April 8th

Why not start the week with a trip to Haiti?

Val-Inc (AKA Val Jeanty), live (studio), Haiti (Le Studio, Port-au-Prince), 2018

 

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lagniappe

musical thoughts

Sounds shape reality.

—Val Jeanty

Thursday, March 28th

sounds of Chicago

John Cage, Solo for flute, from Concert for Piano (1958); Eric Lamb, flute (International Contemporary Ensemble), Chicago, 2012


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lagniappe

musical thoughts

Music is theater for the ear. Take this performance. The phrasing, the interplay between sound and silence—this unfolds like something by Beckett.

Wednesday, March 20th

voices I miss

Leroy Jenkins (1932-2007), violin, live (“Lush Life” [B. Strayhorn], “Keep on Trucking, Brother (A Message to Bruce)” [L. Jenkins], “Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen” [Trad.]), New York, 1977

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lagniappe

musical thoughts

A jazz musician playing alone is like a tightrope walker working without a net. Playing a music of rhythmic verve, he lacks a rhythm section. Playing a music of spirited interplay, he lacks the company of others. And when the musician’s instrument happens to be the violin, he’s working not only without a net but without a tightrope.

The violin lacks all the advantages of the one instrument with a long-standing tradition of solo jazz performance, the piano. Where a pianist can play more than one musical line at a time (accompanying herself with her left hand, for example, while “soloing” with her right), a violinist can’t. Where a pianist can readily play complex chords, a violinist is limited to four strings and beset by innumerable fingering problems. And the range of pitches available to a violinist is only about half that available to a pianist. When a jazz violinist steps onstage by himself, he either falls flat on his face or, defying the conventions of gravity, flies.

Last Friday at HotHouse, jazz violinist Leroy Jenkins not only flew but soared. A dignified man so diminutive that he makes a violin appear large, Jenkins focused the listener’s attention not on what was absent—other musicians, multiple lines, an expansive tonal range—but on what was present. His concert provided a response of sorts to the familiar Zen koan: What is the sound of one hand clapping?

Playing for a small but attentive audience, the longtime associate of the Chicago-based Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians—who hadn’t performed here for several years—displayed a powerful and original musical vocabulary. Just as a poem forces one to consider language word by word, a solo jazz performance forces one to consider music sound by sound. And that was how Jenkins constructed each of his pieces: sound by sound.

He began most of them with a simple melodic statement that sang. Then he would veer off into gradually accelerating repetitions of two-, three-, and four-note patterns. Unlike a horn player, he never had to stop for breath, so these patterns could go on and on. Out of them would emerge long, winding bursts of melody, like swallows taking flight through a swarm of bees. Then Jenkins would return to repeated patterns, steadily building the intensity until he reached a climax and suddenly stopped.

The narrative structure of many of his pieces was thus not unlike that of a sexual encounter. But the steadily mounting intensity was invariably coupled with precise articulation, lucid organization, and exquisite control. When near the end of his set Jenkins rocked back and forth like a man possessed, his seemingly unshakable control of his instrument only heightened the dramatic impact.

A master colorist, Jenkins called forth a seemingly limitless array of sounds, from singing to fluttering to stinging to rasping to wheezing. But what was ultimately even more impressive than the variety and virtuosity of his playing was its logic and coherence. And unlike some jazz musicians, whose solos can be neatly divided into segments “inside” or “outside” normal harmonic and tonal conventions, Jenkins’s playing was all of a piece.

Jenkins’s HotHouse set readily calls to mind Richard Goode’s magnificent recent performance at Pick-Staiger Concert Hall of five Beethoven piano sonatas. Neither musician spoke a word to the audience, but neither seemed remote. Both played so wholeheartedly that they virtually disappeared in the music. Both are virtuosos who put their virtuosity entirely at the service of the music, never exploiting it simply for effect. Both played music that often pitted a coming-apart-at-the-seams emotional intensity against an ultimately prevailing clarity and order. Perhaps one day, solo jazz concerts of the caliber of Jenkins’s will be met with the same degree of anticipation and excitement that performances of Beethoven piano sonatas by artists such as Goode typically receive today.

—Richard McLeese, “Flying Solo,” Chicago Reader, 10/27/1994

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art beat: other day, Art Institute of Chicago 

Vincent van Gogh (1853-1890), The Bedroom, 1889

Tuesday, March 12th

basement jukebox

Jackie (AKA Jacqui) Verdell (1937-1991), “Why Not Give Me a Chance” (J. Verdell), 1962

 

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musical thoughts

I also considered Jackie Verdell of the Davis Sisters one of the best and most underrated female soul singers of all time.

—Aretha Franklin (1942-2018), Aretha: From These Roots, 1999

Thursday, January 24th

This I could listen to all day.

Morton Feldman (1926-1987, MCOTD Hall of Fame), Palais de Mari (1986); Blair McMillen (piano) and Ryan Olivier (video processing), live, Philadelphia, 2014

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lagniappe

musical thoughts

My obsession with surface is the subject of my music. In that sense, my compositions are really not ‘compositions’ at all. One might call them time canvases in which I more or less prime the canvas with an overall hue of the music.

—Morton Feldman, “Between Categories” (Give My Regards to Eighth Street)

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random sights

yesterday, Oak Park, Ill.

Wednesday, December 26th

more

Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750), Well-Tempered Clavier, Book II; András Schiff (piano), live, London, 2018

 

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lagniappe

radio

WKCR’s Bach Festival continues through midnight New Year’s Eve.

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musical thoughts

If there is anyone who owes everything to Bach, it is God. Without Bach, God would be a third-rate character.

—Emil Cioran (1911-1995)

Monday, December 24th

never enough

Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750), Cello Suite No. 5 in C minor; Hidemi Suzuki (cello), live, Netherlands (Amsterdam), 2017

 

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lagniappe

radio

One of my favorite musical events begins today: the annual Bach Festival on WKCR-FM (Columbia University), where it’ll be all Bach, all the time, until midnight New Year’s Eve.

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musical thoughts

It may well be that some composers do not believe in God. All of them, however, believe in Bach.

—Bela Bartok (1881-1945)

Saturday, October 6th

My kind of “genius.”

Vijay Gupta, violinist, educator, social-justice advocate, 2018 MacArthur Fellow, talking and playing

 

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lagniappe

musical thoughts

Filled with music, we’re free of all else.

Thursday, May 24th

3n
day three

Anton Webern (1883-1945), String Trio, Op. 20 (1927)
Goeyvaerts String Trio, live

Part 1

 

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Part 2

 

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lagniappe

musical thoughts

Difficult? Life is difficult. Not music.

*****

random sights

other night, Oak Park, Ill.

Thursday, April 12th

basement jukebox

Syl Johnson, “Take Me to the River” (Al Green, Mabon “Teenie” Hodges, writers; Willie Mitchell, producer), 1975

 

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lagniappe

musical thoughts

I am waiting, patiently, for the United States Postal Service to issue a Forever stamp honoring Willie Mitchell. Nobody—nobody—has produced better records.

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