music clip of the day

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Saturday, 2/13/10

Great drummers are like great basketball players—they lift everybody’s game.

Trixie Whitley with Brian Blade (drums) and Daniel Lanois, “I’d Rather Go Blind,” recording session, 2008

*****

Herbie Hancock (piano), Wayne Shorter (saxophone), Dave Holland (bass), Brian Blade (drums); live, Germany (Salzau), 2004

Part 1

(It may simply be a coincidence [or my imagination], but a four-note pattern that Herbie keeps repeating, with variations, reminds me, particularly at around 2:27 and following, of the beginning of Alfred Schnittke’s Piano Concerto [featured on 1/14/10].)

Part 2

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lagniappe

Johnny [Vidacovich, featured on 9/30/09], man . . . what an inspiration. His playing is so liquid but at the same time just the street of it is so intoxicating. Studying with him, the drumming aspect was never about fundamental things. It was never about the drums as much as it was about the music and playing with this melodic sensibility. That sticks with me even more than the thickness or the groove, which he never spoke about, really. That was like a given. If you have it inside of you, that groove, you need to lay it down. But also need to be able to sing through the drums.—Brian Blade

Friday, 2/12/10

Sometimes you’re not in the mood for subtlety.

Or complexity.

Or anything else that’s got more than one syllable.

You want sweat.

Funk.

That clenched scream: “Uhowwwww!”

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Wilson Pickett, live, Germany, 1968

“Everybody Needs Someone To Love”

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“I’m In Love”

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“Ninety-Nine And A Half (Won’t Do)”

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“Mustang Sally”

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lagniappe

“We didn’t make enough money to press our suits,” Pickett reminisced when asked about the Violinaires, the gospel group he formed shortly after moving to Detroit from his native Alabama. “We would sing three programs a Sunday at different churches. We’d sing our hearts out, and so we done sweated up that suit three times — from the socks all the way up.

“The sisters would get up and they’d put a penny or a dime on the table and say ‘Ya’ll boys sho’ can sing.’ And we’d come in the back, and they got all the chicken baskets and pies and stuff to eat, and even occasionally one of the sisters would take you home.”

The young Pickett soon caught the eye not only of a sister or two, but also of the Falcons, a local R&B group with whom he later wrote and sang his first hit song, “I Found a Love,” in 1962.

“I was scared because these people says that if you leave God and go to the devil, you’re going to go to hell. You see, I wanted to sing gospel, but I wanted to make some money, too. So I said, ‘No I’ll never leave, I’ll never leave God.’ Until that evening that one of the Falcons came by and I was sitting on the back porch and I went down and tried it out. And from then on I told God, I looked up and I said, ‘I’m on my way this way — would You care to go with me? I’d really appreciate Your being with me. It’d make me feel better.’—Ken Emerson, “Wilson Pickett: Soul Man On Ice”

Thursday, 2/11/10

intimate, adj. 1. Relating to or indicative of one’s deepest nature. 2. Essential; innermost. E.g., Beethoven’s String Quartet No. 15 in A minor, op. 132.

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Beethoven composed his string quartet, Opus 132 in A minor, in the winter of 1824-5. He was 54 and recovering from a serious bowel condition from which he had nearly died. As a result, he entitled the central movement “a song of thanksgiving … offered to the divinity by a convalescent”, and the second section of this movement bears the inscription: “Feeling new strength.”

Over 100 years later, in March 1931, TS Eliot, aged 47, wrote to Stephen Spender: “I have the A minor Quartet on the gramophone, and I find it quite inexhaustible to study. There is a sort of heavenly, or at least more than human gaiety, about some of his later things which one imagines might come to oneself as the fruit of reconciliation and relief after immense suffering; I should like to get something of that into verse before I die.”

Eliot began the Four Quartets in 1935 and worked on it for years, finishing it in 1941. Whereas the composer wrote one quartet, with five movements, the poet wrote four pieces, each divided into five sections. Like Beethoven’s work, Eliot’s poem was triggered by personal suffering, although not of a physical nature. It was probably connected to his separation from his wife, Vivienne, in 1932; her mental illness; and the rekindling of a platonic relationship with his first love, the American university teacher Emily Hale.

The first poem in the series, Burnt Norton, opens with an image of a couple walking in a rose garden and is full of regret for what might have been. At this point, Eliot’s concerns appear personal. However, in 1939, when he was working on the second poem, East Coker, war had broken out and by 1940 Eliot was working in London as an air-raid warden during the Blitz. The climactic verse of the final poem, Little Gidding, is set at night in a London street just after a raid. By the end of the four poems, Eliot had moved from the personal to addressing what he described in the poem as the “distress of nations”.

If suffering is the trigger for both pieces, then faith offers the shared antidote of “reconciliation and relief” that Eliot wrote to Spender about. Both men were practising Christians, and their belief underpinned much of their later work. Beethoven was a Catholic, and Eliot famously converted to Anglicanism aged 38, nine years before writing Four Quartets.

In 1933 Eliot said he wanted to get “beyond poetry, as Beethoven in his later works, strove to get beyond music”. I am sure that it was Beethoven’s religious aims in the long and intense central movement of the quartet that Eliot had in mind when he wrote these words. Beethoven had been studying liturgical music – Palestrina in particular – while he was working on his Missa Solemnis, which he completed two years before starting work on the quartet. This study influenced the central movement of the quartet, which is based, unusually, on an ancient chorale melody and mode. Similarly, Eliot’s poem had a strong religious purpose and referenced Christianity in many forms – from direct quotations of the medieval mystic Juliana of Norwich, to the setting of the final poem in the village of Little Gidding, which was the site in the 17th century for a persecuted religious community.

Interestingly, however, both men were also drawn to the philosophy of eastern religions, with which they supplemented their own Christianity. Eliot quotes from the Hindu text, the Bhagavad-Gita, in Four Quartets. Beethoven was influenced by the older Hindu scripture, the Rig-Veda. In his diary the composer jotted down a line from the Rig-Veda commentary about the idea of God being “free from all passion and desire”. Eliot expresses similar sentiments in his poem when he writes about:

The inner freedom from the practical desire
The release from action and suffering, release from the inner
And the outer compulsion, yet surrounded
By a grace of sense, a white light still and moving.

—Katie Mitchell, “A Meeting of Minds,” Guardian

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Beethoven, String Quartet No. 15 in A minor, op. 132/Takacs Quartet

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Wednesday, 2/10/10

The term “sideman” can be misleading. It suggests a leader/soloist who reigns supreme while the other musicians serve merely as accompanists.  But the strongest jazz performances, especially live ones, rarely work that way—they’re all about interplay. Here, on piano, bass, and drums, are three of the finest jazz musicians in recent memory. Each contributes mightily to the quality of this performance. All, alas, are now gone.

David Murray, tenor saxophone, with John Hicks, piano; Fred Hopkins, bass; Ed Blackwell, drums; “Morning Song,” live, New York (Village Vanguard), 1986

Part 1

Here are just a few of the things I love about what these guys do:

:14-16, :45-48, 1:17-20: Hopkins can be both fat and precise, funky and elegant. What other bassist pops so impeccably?

4:04-4:22: This is pure Blackwell: a delicate counterpoint dance that lifts everything without ever calling attention to itself.

5:25-42, 6:00-05: Some musicians play “inside” the chord changes and structure, some play “outside”; only a few, like Hicks, are able to do both at once, delineating the changes and structure while at the same time subverting them.

*****

Part 2

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lagniappe

mail

Great! [T. L. Barrett]

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I love your music clips . . . . Listening to Gil Scott-Heron right now, in fact.

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love this . . . thank you for including me! [Jimmie Dale Gilmore]

Tuesday, 2/9/10

In a recent NIH-funded study, conducted over a period of six months, individuals suffering from clinical depression who listened to this man’s music for ten minutes a day fared significantly better, as measured by the Hamilton Depression Rating Scale (HDRS), than those who did not.

Fats Waller

“Honeysuckle Rose” (1941)

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“Your Feet’s Too Big” (1940s)

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“Ain’t Misbehavin'” (1941)

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“The Joint Is Jumpin'” (1940s)

Monday, 2/8/10

Here’s a voice I didn’t know if I’d ever hear again.

Gil Scott-Heron, I’m New Here (out this week)

“Where Did The Night Go” (Gil Scott-Heron)

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“Me And The Devil” (Robert Johnson)

Want more? Here.

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lagniappe

I’ve had bad times in my life when I’d rather be somewhere else doing something else, for sure. But you get to my age, that shit happens. You get in trouble; you maybe lose some folks—a parent or a friend. Maybe your marriage breaks up, you lose your wife, lose touch with your kid. But what life does not have those things in it?—Gil Scott-Heron (in yesterday’s Guardian)

Sunday, 2/7/10

This morning, like every Sunday morning, gospel will fill the air in churches all over Chicago’s south and west sides, including the Life Center Church of God in Christ at 5500 S. Indiana, where, at 11 a.m., this man will take the pulpit.

T. L. Barrett, “Like A Ship,” live, 2009, Chicago

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T. L. Barrett

Vernard Johnson

Sister Rosetta Tharpe

Rev. Utah Smith

In the Church of God in Christ (COGIC), they take Psalm 149 to heart: “Sing to the Lord a new song . . . mak[e] melody to him with tambourine and lyre [and guitar and saxophone and anything else you can get your hands on].”

Saturday, 2/6/10

Few composers make such expressive use of silence.

Christian Wolff, “For Piano” (1952)/Frederic Rzewski, piano

(In the right mood, I could listen to this all day.)

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lagniappe

Any collection of sounds that you put together, they’ll have a rhythm no matter what.—Christian Wolff

*****

Abstract Expressionism

On the Road

“Howl”

hard bop

urban blues

doo-wop

rock ’n roll

New York School Composers (John Cage, Morton Feldman, Earle Brown, Christian Wolff)

Not too shabby for a decade (1950s) that’s often dismissed as dull.

Friday, 2/5/10

Who needs electricity?

Jimi Hendrix, “Hound Dog,” live, 1960s

Thursday, 2/4/10

Is any label more irritating, or useless, than “world music”?

Toumani Diabate, kora

“Cantelowes,” live, Spain (Seville), 2008

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Talking & Playing