music clip of the day

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Category: piano

Tuesday, 7/20/10

recipe

1 cup funkiness

1 cup elegance

Mix until thoroughly blended.

Professor Longhair (AKA Henry Roeland [“Roy”] Byrd), December 19, 1918-January 30, 1980

“Tipitina,” live

*****

“Hey Little Girl,” live

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lagniappe

mail

Mike Kinnamon, Bonnie Bramlett’s Nashville-based manager, in response to an email letting him (and Bonnie) know that her music was featured here (Delaney, alas, is no longer alive), left a voice-mail message yesterday:

. . . I just love it when somebody like you cares enough to send stuff like that around. It’s really cool, and it lifts her [Bonnie] up, too. Thank you so much, buddy . . .

Monday, 7/19/10

What do I listen to these days?

This more than anything.

Each night it’s the last thing I hear before falling asleep. Having left the Bose on “repeat” (usually Hildegard Kleeb [Hat Hut], sometimes John Tilbury [Extraplatte]), it’s the first thing I hear upon awakening. It seems, sometimes, as if it’s always playing—whether I’m listening or not.

Morton Feldman, “For Bunita Marcus” (1985)/Mark Knoop (piano), live, London, 2010

Part 1

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Part 2

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Part 3

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Part 4

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Part 5

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Part 6

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Part 7

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Part 8

Want more? Here. Here. Here. Here.

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lagniappe

Almost all Feldman’s music is slow and soft. Only at first sight is this a limitation. I see it rather as a narrow door, to whose dimensions one has to adapt oneself (as in Alice in Wonderland) before one can pass through it into the state of being that is expressed in Feldman’s music. Only when one has become accustomed to the dimness of light can one begin to perceive the richness and variety of colour which is the material of the music. When one has passed through the narrow door and got accustomed to the dim light, one realises the range of his imagination and the significant differences that distinguish one piece from another . . .

Feldman sees the sounds as reverberating endlessly, never getting lost, changing their resonances as they die away, or rather do not die away, but recede from our ears, and soft because softness is compelling, because an insidious invasion of our senses is more effective than a frontal attack. Because our ears must strain to catch the music, they must become more sensitive before they perceive the world of sound in which Feldman’s music takes place.

Cornelius Cardew

*****

Legend has it that after one group of players had crept their way as quietly as possible through a score of his Feldman barked, ‘It’s too fuckin’ loud, and it’s too fuckin’ fast.’

—Alex Ross, “American Sublime,” The New Yorker, 6/19/06

Tuesday, 7/13/10

I’ve tried listening to his recordings while doing something else, but that hasn’t worked. Whatever else I was doing, I just put aside. If it was nighttime, I turned off the light. Some music occupies every available inch of space—there isn’t room for anything else.

Alfred Cortot: Frederic Chopin, “Farewell” (Waltz in A-flat major, Op. 69, No. 1 [excerpt]); Robert Schumann, “Der Dichter Spricht” (Op. 15, No. 13 in G major [excerpt])

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lagniappe

Cortot looked for the opium in music.

—Daniel Barenboim

Monday, 7/12/10

Here’s a big birthday shout-out to my wife Suzanne, who’s not nearly as crazy as I am about music—not nearly as crazy, period—but is crazy enough that she kept going out with me after I took her on our first date, in the summer of 1974, to Chicago’s Jazz Showcase (then on Lincoln Avenue) to see this guy, whose multimedia performance that night featured some of this footage—the stuff with the pyramids.

Sun Ra & His Arkestra in Egypt and Italy, 1971

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lagniappe

Even in the excesses of this era there were few audiences prepared for an ominous, ragtag group of musicians in Egyptian robes, Mongolian caps (Mongolian, as from the planet Mongo of Flash Gordon), and B-movie spacesuits who played on a variety of newly invented or strangely modified electronic instruments (the sun harp, the space organ, the cosmic side drum) and proclaimed the greatness of the most ancient of races (this, the Sun Ra of the Solar-Myth Arkestra); or, on yet another night, a merry band in jester’s motley, jerkins, and pointed caps (a la Robin Hood or perhaps the Archers of Arboria) who marched or crawled through the audience, chanting cheerful songs about travel to Venus. It was intensely dramatic music, moving from stasis to chaos and back, horn players leaping about, or rolling on the bandstand, sometimes with fire eaters, gilded muscle men, and midgets, an all-out assault on the senses. At the end of the evening the musicians and dancers moved among the audience, touching them, surrounding them, inviting them to join the Arkestra in marching off to Jupiter.

—John F. Szwed, Space Is The Place: The Lives And Times Of Sun Ra (1997)

*****

Sun Ra’s consistent statement, musically and spoken, is that this is a primitive world. Its practices, beliefs, religions, are uneducated, unenlightened, savage, destructive, already in the past. . . . That’s why Sun Ra returned only to say he left. Into the future. Into Space.

—Amiri Baraka (formerly known as LeRoi Jones)

*****

Silence is music. There are different kinds of silence, each silence is a world all of its own . . . silence is an integral part of all music . . .

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When you meet a man

You meet a scheme of words

Patterns of concept

A concepted being

Whose very birth conception is called.

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The earth cannot move without music. The earth moves in a certain rhythm, a certain sound, a certain note. When the music stops the earth will stop and everything upon it will die.

—Sun Ra

*****

Saturday, 7/10/10

replay: a clip too good for just one day

Here is the onliest Thelonious.

Thelonious Monk, “Epistrophy,” live (TV broadcast), Paris, 1966

*****

Thelonoius Monk, “’Round Midnight,” live (TV broadcast)

*****

You can tell a lot about Monk’s music—about the centrality of dance, about the interplay between melody and rhythm, about the way a melody’s irregular accents override the pulse (making the dance melodic)—just by watching, in the second performance, the way his right foot moves.

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lagniappe

He played each note as though astonished by the previous one, as though every touch of his fingers on the keyboard was correcting an error and this touch in turn became an error to be corrected and so the tune never quite ended up the way it was meant to be.

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You had to see Monk to hear his music properly. The most important instrument in the group—whatever the format—was his body.

—Geoff Dyer, But Beautiful: A Book About Jazz (1996)

(Originally posted 11/2/09.)

Wednesday, 7/7/10

Fluid, supple, springy: with him on drums, the beat just floats.

Fred Below, September 16, 1926-August 14, 1988

Otis Rush, guitar; Little Brother Montgomery, piano; Jack Myers, bass; Fred Below, drums; Europe, 1966

Want more? Here. Here.

Monday, 7/5/10

How many songs are so 4th-of-July perfect?

The Blasters, “American Music”

Take 1

Live, Illinois (Champaign), 1985

*****

Take 2

Live, Los Angeles, 2010

On Saturday night these guys played this, in overdrive, at FitzGerald’s American Music Festival, a wonderful 4-day event that just celebrated its 30th anniversary.

Thursday, 7/1/10

looking back

Today, celebrating our 300th post, we revisit a few favorites.

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3/12/10

Both Chicago blues artists. Both guitar players. Both influenced by other kinds of music.

Musical personalities? They could hardly be more different.

Buddy Guy, “Let Me Love You Baby,” live

*****

Fenton Robinson, “Somebody Loan Me A Dime,” live, 1977

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Back in the 1970s, when I was at Alligator Records, I had the pleasure of working with Fenton, co-producing his album I Hear Some Blues Downstairs (a Grammy nominee). He didn’t fit the stereotype of a bluesman. Gentle, soft-spoken, serious, introspective: he was all these things. He died in 1997.

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3/3/10

What other pop star has made such stunning contributions as a guest artist?

Sinead O’Connor

With Willie Nelson, “Don’t Give Up”

*****

With the Chieftains, “The Foggy Dew”

*****

With Shane MacGowan, “Haunted”

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5/28/2010

two takes

“La-La Means I Love You”

The Delfonics, live, 2008 (originally recorded 1968)

*****

Bill Frisell, live, New York (Rochester), 2007

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lagniappe

musical thoughts

Music . . . carr[ies] us smoothly across the tumult of experience, like water over rocks.

Vijay Iyer, liner notes, Historicity (2009)

Wednesday, 6/30/10

The other night, after falling asleep, my older son Alex (now 22) had an unexpected visitor—this guy showed up and began to play.

Vijay Iyer Trio (VI, piano; Marcus Gilmore, drums; Stephan Crump, bass)

“Galang,” recording session (Historicity), New York (Systems Two Studios), 2009

*****

“Questions of Agency,” live, New York (The Stone), 2007

*****

Playing and Talking about Historicity, 2009

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lagniappe

Presto! Here is the great new jazz piano trio.

—Ben Ratliff, New York Times (9/9/09)

Friday, 6/25/10

The other day, as I waited for a train at an underground station in downtown Chicago, an older black guy started singing this song, accompanying himself on acoustic guitar, and at that moment everything—this song, this singer, this place—seemed all of a piece and I was no longer waiting.

Curtis Mayfield (with David Sanborn, alto saxophone; Hiram Bullock, guitar; David Lindley, steel guitar; George Duke, piano; Phillipe Saisse, keyboard; Tom Barney, bass; Omar Hakim, drums), “It’s All Right,” live (TV broadcast [Sunday Night]), 1989

Want more? Here. Here.