Random weekend mobile photo interlude

We spent a good chunk of Labor Day weekend in the vicinity of Mt. Hood, in a charmingly-named unincorporated entity called Government Camp, with our dear friends Sarah and Matt, and the assorted kids.

Apparently, we were about two miles away from the Overlook Hotel (aka Timberline Lodge) -- and now I know what our next day-trip excursion is going to be (we didn't actually get to make the hike this time, since the weather was fairly lousy).

Sarah procured a number of zany toys to keep the kids occupied in the event of rain (this turned out to be a very smart strategy). The one shown below was my favorite, mostly because of the subheading:



(Really? What I do with them is up to me? Is it bad that I have always treated my toys this way?)

Coming back (Government Camp is about an hour's ride from PDX), we stopped at a quaint (okay, cheesy) restaurant / coffeehouse / bakery / knick-knack emporium, with the very simple goal of procuring some coffee. This beverage took forever to make, which initially seemed to bode well, since we assumed the barista was a perfectionist. We were wrong -- she was no perfectionist.

Anyway, while wandering through the knick-knack emporium, waiting for my cappuccino, I came across these:



And these:



One could say that my whole career is based on the juxtaposition of unlike things, but I still can't get my head around this bacon + sweet stuff phenomenon.

Jazz of the Future, part two

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Industrial Jazz Group in, like, twenty years:




Actually, these photos depict the Get a Life Marching Band, the big hit at each August's Multnomah Days, here in PDX.

Supplementary (or actually, essential) reading on the importance of amateur music is here. I may have to comment on that soon, it's quite sharp.

Classical gas

Earlier this week I got an email from Doug Jenkins, leader of Portland's own (logically enough, given their name) Portland Cello Project.

I love it when gig emails from groups I really dig make me laugh out loud! Let's see if you have the same reaction. Here's an excerpt:

Sometimes I write emails for the Cello Project list, and right after I send them I think “oops – that one might earn a few ‘unsubscribe’ responses.” Generally this is the case if I do something like talk about Britney Spears too much, or something. I forget that some people don’t think pop music is as simultaneously silly, ridiculous, joyful and compelling as I do... It’s just a good break from all the serious music you have to play when you’re a cellist, especially in the summer with wedding gigs and all of this other stuff...

I always want to write back to the people who unsubscribe and say "but... I’ve been practicing the Chopin sonata all day – this pop music thing is just my escape – I promise I just got carried away for a second with the ironic pop music references!"

Anyway, this email INESCAPABLY revolves around getting carried away with the ironic pop music references, so, if that’s not your thing, you may as well stop reading right now!

Who among us in the jazz world, with its overblown anxieties about audience, art, and entertainment, could fail to appreciate these sentiments?

Of course, our overblown anxieties may be quite different from what a classical cellist experiences in a group like the PCP. Perhaps classical music, with its centuries-long backstory as "serious art," at least provides its practitioners with a clear choice: different contexts require the wearing of different hats, and it's particularly obvious when those hats are being mixed up. You get asked to play classical music at a wedding, for instance, and you can be reasonably sure that you are being asked to be "serious" (even if you are being asked to do it in the background). And because audience expectations about classical music are so deeply ingrained, using a group of cellos to play music ostensibly designed for "entertainment" (especially when it's not the Beatles, or other stuff that routinely gets covered by pops orchestras) is probably still a pretty surprising gesture, relatively speaking.



Playing pop (or pop-inflected) music in a jazz ensemble is a different animal altogether. We've forgotten which hat is which. People like me complain a lot about how jazz has almost completely lost touch with its roots in the brothels and rathskellers; and to a certain extent, those complaints are justified -- clearly the era of Jazz, the Institution is now upon us. But the real "problem" (which may not be a problem at all, except for those who seek clarity in their art) is just that jazz is taxonomically confusing. We jazzers know what we like, but we don't really know for sure whether what we create is "art" or "entertainment." (Quick: you get asked to play jazz at a wedding! What exactly are you being hired to do?)

As I say, such confusion may not be a problem at all, in the grand scheme of things. In fact, as a committed Dada-ist, I love it. On the other hand, clarity about genre helps to sell records.

* * * * *

Anyway, for those of you here in Portland, the PCP is performing this Saturday at the Doug Fir Lounge. I have seen them before, and can heartily attest to the wonderfulness that is their show. It usually features a rotating cast of collaborators, drifting in and out of the group from all directions, making for a very lovely two-hour-or-so smorgasbord.

If you don't believe me, I urge you to check out the audience hooting and hollering in the above video.

[Photo credit: Alicia Rose]

Freelancing

The photos here were snapped at last night's rehearsal of the Portland Jazz Composers' Ensemble. I contributed a new tune, "Et Tu, Tutu?", which will programmed in the group's February 17 show, to be held in tandem with the Portland Jazz Festival.

It's always fascinating for me to write something for a group other than the IJG. One of the assumptions I make about my own musical creativity is that it is highly dependent upon a specific context of players that I already know -- and the better I know them, the better music I can write. I really feel like my music arises from the social context of whatever band I'm in -- not from the isolation of my own head. This is why I've never been able to develop a career as a composer-for-hire (e.g., film scoring, or commercial music).

However, I do appreciate the challenge -- it comes up from time to time -- of stepping outside of the "comfort zone" of the IJG, just to see what happens, and what I can learn from that. So when Andrew Oliver (the co-leader of the PJCE) asked me to be part of the upcoming PCJE concert, of course I said yes. (It helped that the PCJE includes three now-veterans of the IJG, all great players and great people: Mary-Sue Tobin (alto / soprano sax), Mieke Bruggeman (bari sax), and Kevin Van Geem (drums).)

The PCJE has a slightly different configuration from the IJG -- more brass-heavy, for one thing, and with a greater focus on acoustic bass and a full rhythm section. So I was initially tempted to contribute a slightly revised version of "Sneaky Whispers," an older, more recognizably "jazzy" tune of mine that originally appeared on the Industrialjazzwerke album.

But ultimately I decided to offer up something new, something closer to where my head is at now. Thus "Et Tu, Tutu?" has all the hallmarks of the IJG circa 2009: simple melodies expressed through dense, layered arrangements; a strong groove; an electric bass part; a few tempo shifts; chanted words; a goofy title; some physical comedy. We'll see how it turns out, but in the meantime, I'm just honored that the players (heavy hitters all) were willing to give it an airing.

The other composers for this show are: Dan Duval, Ken Ollis, Kyle Williams, Sam Howard, and the aforementioned Andrew Oliver. Do yourself a favor and check their music out -- their tunes were all smokin'.

Once again, I have to play catch up

I blogged a little bit elsewhere about the IJG New Year's Eve gig. And here's a pointless reposting of the short video I put up last week:



The show was actually a lot more raucous than that, but I wasn't able to record any of the rest of it. So you'll just have to trust me when I say that the band played really well -- especially given the fact that a good chunk of the musicians were brand new to the IJG schtick (click the link above for the full personnel list).

Anyway, thanks to everyone who played, and everyone who came out to hear us. We hope that, in our own small way, we got 2009 off to an irreverent but auspicious start.

Next up: I'm writing a piece for the Portland Jazz Composer's Ensemble, run by Andrew Oliver and Gus Slayton. The concert will be Tuesday, Feb. 17 at 7:30 PM at the Old Church. You know: during the 2009 Portland Jazz Festival. (I think "during" means "in tandem with," but I'm not entirely sure about that.) Tickets are available here.

And then we're back in California the first week of April. I can't wait.

[Image source.]

Apropos of nothing

A little taste of our New Year's Eve show up here in Portland. I guess this is, uh, not your typical IJG fare -- but it seems to fit the moment. (Full details on the personnel, etc. at YouTube.)

Thanks to everyone who supported us in 08!

Reverse sleigh ride... from hell!

(This is right down the street from us.)

Tour tales no. 1: The wages of profanity and political commentary

The Ws were always the kind of fan that any group would be honored to have. When they were still living in Bakersfield, they came to every show, talked us up to all their friends, bought all our records and swag, and even filmed many of our performances. (They would always follow up by sending me carefully annotated DVDs adorned with artwork of their own devising.)

Actually, for a few of our early Bakersfield shows, the Ws comprised nearly half of the audience. Yet they stuck with us regardless of the sort of turnout we got: they were just as enthusiastic about the "tumbleweed gigs" as they were about, for instance, our performance in front of thousands of people at the 2007 Bakersfield Jazz Festival.

So when we arrived at Eugene's Cozmic Pizza last Wednesday evening and found the Ws waiting for us (they had driven 40 minutes from Corvalis, the Oregon city where they had coincidentally moved in the last year), I was, to put it mildly, flattered beyond belief. Initial pleasantries were exchanged (the Ws took pride in knowing several members of the group by name) and we all prepared for the evening's concert.

Once things got rolling with our opening tune (our tribute to Keith Jarrett, which you will remember from the last tour), I sort of lost all perspective on the audience (as I tend to do when I go into conductor mode). So it wasn't until after the end of the first set that I discovered that the Ws were gone. And it wasn't until I had had a chance to speak with Matt (who, as usual, went way beyond the call of duty on this tour and worked the door for pretty much all of our shows) that I learned what had driven the Ws away.

In a nutshell, the Ws were offended by 1. our "filthy" language and 2. our anti-McCain song (which, I probably should have mentioned earlier, is called "Civility").

No, really! Apparently it is possible for someone who has only heard our earlier albums (which feature such wholesome tunes as "Mamas, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Cowboy-Presidents," "Full-on Freak," and "Baby, Shake That Thing") to assume that we are an innocuous, god-fearing, Republican outfit.

What can I say? On the one hand, I'm sort of proud that something we created actually pissed someone off enough to make them walk out of a show. I mean, isn't the ultimate point of political art that it have some sort of observable impact? That it move beyond merely noble-sounding lip-service? Isn't that the quality that purists long for when they (however bombastically) say that jazz (or punk, or whatever) is no longer a "socially relevant" music?

On the other hand, if that's a victory of sorts, it feels kinda hollow. I mean, this group is in no position to be losing fans -- particularly the sort of fans who remind one that the root of of the word "fan" is "fanatic." I genuinely liked the Ws, and I'm just as irritated by the fact that they failed to see the "offense" that they took as an opportunity for dialogue about art / politics as I am by the fact that their "fanhood" was very hard-earned over a long period of time. The situation sort of cracks me up and depresses me at the same time.

Not that I have any regrets (whatsoever) about the aesthetic / political directions the band has taken in recent years. The charts are what they are: the truest music I know how to make at the moment. I can't do much about that -- and in fact in some ways I feel that it is only recently that the group has managed to find its own voice. Why on earth would I want to dial that back?

* * * * *

Two addenda:

1. We had good reasons to edit our final two shows of this tour. Our PDX hit was an all-ages affair attended by many youngsters 10 and under -- so while we left the John McCain song in place, we had to creatively tone down the language in some of the other tunes, which truthfully added a whole other level of comedy to the experience (for instance, in "Big Ass Truck" we substituted the phrase "fiddlesticks" for "what the fuck"). And moments before our Yakima show -- the final night of the tour -- I got the talk from the series' artistic director: "Yakima is a pretty conservative town, they're not going to go for anything with the word 'fuck' in it, etc., etc." Again, we creatively toned down some of the language, though it wasn't quite as funny in this context for some reason.

2. A few days after the tour was over, I got a package in the mail. It was from the Ws. They were returning the CD and the T-Shirt they had bought in Eugene a few nights before, with a note explaining that they couldn't support offensive music.

What the fuck?

Speaking of blogs...

...I just got wind of the LA Jazz Collective's online journal.

I've known about this group for a while, but I didn't know they were delving into the whole blog thing. Note to LAJC: Get out while you can, guys! Save your sanity!

Anyway, go check it out; it's a good read.

Alas, any realistic jazz blog is gonna be peppered with heartbreaking posts like this postmortem of a gig gone bad, written by pianist Gary Fukushima. An excerpt:

Dolores told me she felt disrespected by the musicians for a number of things, including the coffee cups, band members complaining about their food, and the fact that I advertised this gig in the LAJC newsletter starting with the phrase, “on a smaller scale…”. Of course, what comes to mind when hearing something like that is all of these little things that she took offense to were probably generated by the fact that no musician in their right mind thinks they’ve invested a lifetime’s worth of study and often times very expensive college tuition at a first rate music school so they can play at a place that won’t invest a dime of its own money into the music. The resentment is there from the beginning, which can be mitigated if the club respects the musicians and the music. Well, the bartender was grumpy at best and sometimes unbelievably rude, the band had to buy their own drinks, and tonight they wouldn’t even feed the band, so Robby bought drinks for his band instead. This on top of making $6 each at the door.

It’s an intolerable situation. The club feels like they’re doing the musicians a favor by providing a space for them to make music. The musicians feel like they’re doing the club a favor by providing music for their space. If business is good, that agreement is fine, if it’s bad those sentiments turn toxic in a hurry, which is exactly what happened.

Robby said something very important after our ill-fated evening. He said one of the main reasons why we have started the LAJC is to avoid these situations, and he’s right. We should have the power and the resources to make sure this thing doesn’t happen again, to set up a situation that will be both beneficial to the musicians and the venues that host us.

I recently fell into a situation where I may have an opportunity to present a music series of my own here in PDX... but when I'm reminded of scenarios like the one Gary describes, I have to wonder if I reeeeaaaally want to get into that. We'll see.

"Friday" Muxtape no. 10 (belated as hell); Obama 2.0

Yup, this shoulda woulda coulda gone up on Friday. [Insert the usual excuses here, tour planning, life intruding, blah blah blah.]

Mea culpa. But don't hold it against me: the mux is still worth a listen!

Paticularly: track two features Kris Tiner's splendid lil' ensemble, referenced in a previous post o' mine. The album (and the band) are highly recommended, of course.

The Sonics: "Have Love Will Travel"
Empty Cage Quartet: "Old Ladies"
Lee Wiley: "A Hundred Years From Today"
Pink Martini: "Lilly"
Jerseyband: "Lord Magnificent"
James Brown: "Down and Out in NY City"
The Louvin Brothers: "The Great Atomic Power"
James Kochalka Superstar: "Monkey vs. Robot"
Angelic Gospel Singers: "Back to the Dust"
Johnny Otis: "Castin' My Spell on You"
Lee Hazlewood: "I Move Around"
Spoon: "The Underdog"

Hotcha!

* * * * *

[Oh, boy, here he goes shooting his mouth off on the subject of politics again. Goddamn, but I thought he was done with that -- Ed.]

Okay, I can't resist any longer. How about that Barack Obama, eh? It's been a busy few weeks.

Those of you who have been reading this blog for a while know that I have been an Obama supporter for a long time -- well before the primaries, in fact.

But honestly, I have never felt swayed by the "rockstar" thing, the in-the-tank mentality, or the halo-allegations that seem to have attracted many of his supporters. I didn't get the Obama girl concept, I thought the man came off as a bit of a buffoon on the Ellen Degeneres show, I thought the will.i.am video was about 35% too precious, and although I liked most of the speeches, I know full well that we can not live by rhetoric alone. (And, incidentally, I don't get Barry's tendency to use prompters planted on diametrically opposed sides of the room -- it usually gives the impression that he's watching a very slow-motion tennis match while speech-ifying. Awkward!)

So the more extreme, ethereal, emotional form of Obama-mania always frightened me, at least partly because it was inevitable that the bubble was going to burst at some point. Predictably, for some folks it has been bursting practically every day since the primaries ended.

The mainstream media, in their infinite wisdom, have a phrase for this burstification. They call it "moving to the center." Maybe that's what it is, maybe it isn't. (I'd like to believe 'em, really I would, but it's hard to know how to process information given to you by people who seriously entertain the notion that getting shot down in Vietnam may actually be a qualification for being president).

Look: I can hardly blame leftward-oriented folks for feeling more than a little on-edge in the wake of post-primary developments (FISA, Supreme Court decisions, Muslim photo ops, faith-based initiatives, etc.), or in anticipation of this election. After 7 years of Bush (not to mention the brave new world of the Internets), whaddya expect? Plus, when it comes to the future of this country, there's so much that has all the texture and aroma of Armageddon that the late great George Carlin may have been right when he declared that "this country is finished."

But shit, people -- now is not a time for purism, either. I mean, we don't want to lose, do we?! Here's someone named Sara opining on the brouhaha over Obama's FISA stance:

I don't understand what all the fuss is about Obama's statement. To me it seems like a pretty typical case of working within the system to rise up through the system in order to change the system. Is patience such a rare quality in a politician that we don't recognize it anymore and misperceive it as cowardice?

Prioritizing the present and the future over the past--with an end date in mind for this prioritization--is hardly a glaring warning sign of ethical fluidity or weakness. It's basic triage.

He doesn't want to try to fix everything from the floor of the Senate. That's why he's running for President. I'm OK with that approach.

Indeed. And here's insightful MandyW (same post):

In a democracy, unelected activists are free to take extreme, uncompromising positions. They succeed insofar as their arguments convince the majority of the people of the correctness and importance of their views (e.g. abolitionists like William Lloyd Garrison). Thus, they can transform unrealistic ideals into practical possibilities.

Elected politicians, otoh, MUST compromise to reflect the mainstream of public opinion. (What's the point of democracy if elected leaders pay NO attention to the "will of the people"?) That means the reforms they can accomplish are by definition less sweeping than what outside activists would prefer, but at least they can actually accomplish something (e.g. Presidents like Abraham Lincoln).

For democracy to work, we need BOTH outside activists AND elected politicians. It's silly for activists to denounce ANY deviation by a politician from their view of what's "perfect" as a sellout. It's equally silly for politicians to dismiss ANY deviation by an activist from their view of what's "practical" as not worth considering.

Yes, I'm disappointed at the stance that the Dems, including Obama, are taking on the FISA Act. I assume it's because they fear that a stronger stand would encourage 527's to pop up to attack them, citing FISA as proof that they're "soft on terrorism".

Sadly, imho, such 527 attacks would probably be effective. It could make it a lot harder for Obama to get elected and/or for the Dems to get a large enough majority in Congress to actually accomplish anything on things like Health Care after the election.

These ladies have it exactly right. How much stupider could Obama be than to get hamstrung by the "PETA syndrome" -- political stances that may draw attention and engender a certain degree of moral satisfaction (for those who grasp and sympathize with their meaning), but that ultimately fail to break through the deadlock. It would be like, oh, I don't know, a jazz composer declaring that there was no redeeming value in pop music, thereby shoring up the quaint but useless notion of "high art."

When I taught writing in college, the primary criterion for evaluating student work was cogency. All freshman writing assignments presented students with a basic debate into which they were supposed to position themselves effectively. The idea was to write an argument that had the potential to actually convince someone on the other side, rather than taking up the rhetorical bludgeon and simply attempting to insist and assert the reader into submission. Students had to start by trying to find some common ground with their opposition, giving whatever counterarguments existed a fair shake (without, of course, weakening their own position).

That's not an easy thing to do, but Obama would have aced that class. I just hope his supporters can figure it out too.

* * * * *

And besides. Specifically:

I learned long ago, when working as an organizer on the South Side of Chicago, that when citizens join their voices together, they can hold their leaders accountable. I’m not exempt from that. I’m certainly not perfect, and expect to be held accountable too.

I'd like to see John McCain say that without choking.

* * * * *

By the way, phenomenal PDX-based saxophonist Lee Elderton -- who will most likely be joining the IJG for our Pacific Northwest tour this September (fingers crossed!) -- has a blog. It features much better Obama rally pix than the ones I posted here.

Friday Muxtape no. 8; tour planning update

First of all, holy crap. For the first time in a long time, I actually have a full five-day IJG tour planned out more than two months in advance. Not sure if it's just blind luck, or I'm getting better at this, or what. In any case, we'll be hitting (and hopefully converting) the Pacific Northwest right after Labor Day this year. Here is the order of events:

September 2: Jewel Box Theater (Seattle, WA).

September 3: Cozmic Pizza (Eugene, OR).

September 4: Le Voyeur (Olympia, WA).

September 5: Mississippi Pizza (Portland, OR).

September 6: Seasons (Yakima, WA).

Times and other specifics TBA. For now, I can tell you that we'll most likely be sharing the bill with the great Baby Gramps in Seattle, and at least one (and probably several) of the subsequent shows will be mutual efforts with our old friends (and fellow dadaists) Reptet. Oh yes, and we'll most likely be doing a live recording at PDX-area jazz station KMHD, probably toward the end of the week. This courtesy of one of our biggest advocates, Mary Burlingame (thanks, Mary!).

So you see, I've been busy.

* * * * *

On to the mux. No IJG-related stuff this week -- but more is in the queue, so stay tuned. For now, here's the playlist:

1. Kria Brekkan: "Gomul Visa um Vorid"

2. My Morning Jacket: "Bermuda Highway"

3. The Rosie Taylor Project: "London Pleasures"

4. The Mars Volta: "Wax Simulacra"

5. Frank Zappa: "Camarillo Brillo"

6. Run DMC: "Slow and Low" (demo version)

7. Clyde Arnold: "Black Smoke and Blue Tears"

8. The Continental Cousins: "Kana Kapila"

9. Gil Scott-Heron: "Lady Day and John Coltrane"

10. Mahmoud Ahmed: "Aynotche Terabu"

11. The Monkees: "Sunny Girlfriend"

12. James: "Destiny Calling"

Google what you like. Ignore what you hate.

Now that's what I call grass roots activism...

Further fodder for my ongoing love-affair with Portland: somebody took the liberty of mowing the word "Obama" into this field (a few hundred yards from our house). I know it's hard to see -- sorry, I didn't have access to a helicopter.

I'll probably have a lot more to say about the events of this week when I can catch my breath (I've been fairly busy planning the next IJG adventure, which will hopefully come together in September).

Until then, then...

Yes, we did

I'm not generally a "rally" guy, even when it comes to a phenomenal candidate like Obama. But when our adopted campaign worker got us some "VIP" tickets to today's Portland extravaganza (with opening act, the Decemberists), something compelled us to go check it out.

("VIP," we later learned, merely refers to the difference between being sorta far away from the candidate and being extremely far away from the candidate.)

Turns out this was the biggest rally the campaign has had -- 75,000 people is the estimate -- and there was more than a little of what I could only call "historical electricity" in the air. Here's how the Washington Post described the scene:

The sea of heads stretches for half a mile along the grassy embankment, while others watch from kayaks and power boats bobbing on the Willamette River. More hug the rails of the steel bridge that stretches across the water and crowds are even watching from jetties on the opposite shore.

The weather cooperated with the underlying theme of "change" -- shifting in recent days from a dismal cool cloudiness to full-on summer heat.

Daphne and I tried to snap pics from every phase of the three or so hours that we spent on the waterfront. They follow below, in chronological order, and are pretty much self-explanatory. (Click any pic to enlarge.)

Every time I think I'm finally convinced that the world is going to hell in a handbasket...

...my little girl discovers a rainbow.



See it? Ya gotta look close.

LEEF Trax: PDX LIX LAX

photo c/o Nick Moon

Madness.

That's right, I said it. And I'll say it again. Madness.

Don't those guys look tired? Punchy? Ready for the looney bin?

That fellow to my right is Nick Moon -- who, by the way, is quickly becoming Portland's go-to guy for audio recording. Although his most high profile gig might be working with Gino Vanelli, Nick's resume lists a growing "who's who" of local/regional jazz (and jazz-related) talent: Nancy King, Belinda Underwood, Alan Jones, Madeline Eastman, most (all?) of the members of Pink Martini, etc. Why he consented to working on the new IJG record is simply beyond me.



"Historic" Troutdale, OR: home of Tone Proper Mastering.

But consent he did. And I'll bet he regrets it, because what started as a two-day project back in November quickly turned into four, and then six, and then eight, and now... well, let's just say we worked pretty much every day last week to finish the fucker (and just in time for our upcoming tour, I might add). Apparently mixing a live multi-tracked big band recording -- especially one that was made without using any real separation techniques (bafffles, clip-on mics, judicious and sparing placement of monitors) -- is a lot harder than I had originally supposed. Boy did I learn a lot about some of the things that can go wrong (hello, low-end bleed!).

It's amazing how something as sedentary as mixing -- really hardcore mixing, even over a short period of time -- can be physically exhausting. I suppose that's a function of the kind of repetitive listening that's involved. It's a kind of listening that is probably not at all "natural" -- the ears, I suspect, are not really built to take in the same song (or even snippets of the same song) hundreds of times in a row.

Hence the semi-zapped look on our faces in the pic above.



Going to the studio: it's almost like taking a leisurely stroll through a quaint little tourist town -- but not really.

* * * * *

Those of you who are already on the Facebook bandwagon (I'm going to assume Jason Moran's use of that term has de-pejorativized it) may have noticed the Industrial Jazz Group page over there. This is but one of the places you can check out an advance copy of "PDX LIX LAX" -- one of the representative pieces from the most recent incarnation of the group. (A "more final" mastered version is also available here.)

PDX was written in the summer of 2006 -- midway between two events that turned out to be pretty crucial to its conception, completion, and title: first, the ill-fated CD release show for "Industrial Jazz a Go Go!", which took place at Hollywood's Barnsdall Theater in April, and second, my relocation to Portland, OR, in September of that same year.

When I look back on it now, that seems like an amazingly compressed period of time in which to undergo such a drastic shift -- especially with wife and kid in tow, and especially given that I had no idea during the CD release show experience that I would be out of LA (my home for ten years) within a few months. But the "Barnsdall incident" helped to solidify that migration for me -- as you might notice if you read the above-linked post (which was probably written in a fit of pique: fair warning) . It's not that I necessarily minded dealing with the possibility of a low turnout for any given IJG show -- I know that risk is pretty much inevitable wherever you go -- but I was tired of compromising so many other aspects of my life just to stay in a town that was not much more welcoming of the arts than any other big metropolis in the country.

Anyway, "PDX LIX LAX" emerged in Barnsdall's wake -- pretty much in tandem with another LEEF track, "Howl." (I tend to write things in pairs, for some reason.) This is actually the second arrangement of the tune. In the original version, the melody of the "A section" (basically, the first half, before the gospel-like groove kicks in) was mostly shared by two alto saxes in unison. But as I was preparing for our last east coast tour, I got the bright idea to convert a significant portion of the A section into more of a "Concerto for Evan" (highlighting the idiosyncratic brilliance of longtime IJG collaborator, Evan Francis).

For comparison of these arrangement approaches, you can check out this excerpt from the original arrangement -- this is the beginning of the tune, as heard in a performance at Club Tropical (in Culver City), at the outset of our August 2006 west coast tour (the alto parts were expertly played by Ariel Alexander and James King, both motherfuckers in their own right).

One of the performance possibilities that was opened up by the later revision -- and I think I had a strong feeling that Evan would go this route, though I don't remember explicitly coaching him into it, and it's certainly not indicated on the chart -- was that the first statement of the melody would no longer have to be limited to the ink; i.e., Evan was freed up to start with an embellishment instead of a theme. The fun part (for me, anyway) is that the listener doesn't really know what the embellishment is an embellishment of until the second statement of the melody (at around the 1:12 mark), where the ensemble pretty much takes over and puts the tune out there quite emphatically. So things are kind of backwards. (On top of all this, I should add, the looseness of the opening is heightened by drummer Dan Schnelle's willingness to provoke and propel Evan's playing.)

What can I say? I'm fascinated by inversion. I like the word "preposterous."

Anyway.

Not totally unrelated: one of my favorite Prince tunes is "Forever in My Life" (from Sign o the Times). It includes a "backing / counterpoint vocal" that anticipates the tune's "lead vocal" (in a more typical pop arrangement the relationship would be the other way round). I haven't listened to Prince in a while, but SOTT was a favorite of mine for a while -- so I'm guessing that "Forever" had some sort of impact on my rearrangement of "PDX."

(You can file that bit under "artists you would never have guessed as influences on the IJG.")

* * * * *

P.S. Does PDX really "lick" LAX? Well, that's a loaded question. I do love it here. In particular, I can say that it's extremely cool to live somewhere so green, and yet still so satisfyingly urban. And there is something endearing about PDX's pride in local quirkiness (one reason I used a local manufacturer and printer for the replication / packaging of LEEF -- more on that soon).

Also: check out M. Farina's post / link on the Portland music scene. That's more about licking SEA-TAC, I guess. Maybe I'll write a sequel tune.

More fun with the PDX Craig's List

Hilarious:

I have been hailed as the greatest guitar player in the world. I'd like to hook up with 16 other guitarists to make a 17 piece guitar band called "Guitar-o-rama". I have looked the name up and it is not taken. I feel like the type of music played is inconsequential as 17 guitarists playing at once will splatter everyone's brains onto the venue's floors. I've already got 3 coffee shops pretty much locked into doing a gig. Obviously you see where I'm going with this.

Please respond to this with a cover letter, references and resume to be considered.

Thank you and have a wonderful day.

I actually like the concept here (though of course it's already been done, in one way or another).

And then there's this:

Musicians are assholes

Ya you heard me right!!!! . My girl left me for a dam drummer today, and he is ugly. she met him at a bar that he played at last night . he is just going to use her like you all do and then dump her with a STD. I have a real job , a nice car and I am romantic, and a very nice guy with a real job So I just want you all to know that I am going to spread the word about you Musicians. SO take your drum sticks and guitar picks and put them in your ASS

Location: HELL

[Sic.]

Thanks, fellas, for making the gig-searching process that much more enjoyable.

Seattle prattle

Not very pointy, is it?

Well, that was interesting.

Day two of the latest IJG excursion is now over and done with. The IJG-PNW band did an intrepid job, I must say. It is never an easy thing to learn this music -- but to do so with a minimum of rehearsal, alongside thirteen other musicians who are similarly green; well, that's a real feat. And to have fun in the bargain (as pretty much everyone involved told me that they did) may be the optimal outcome for an experiment like this.

I wouldn't exactly say that I had fun, alas -- even during those moments when things really came together musically, this "tour" was overall a fairly stressful experience. That's partly because the audience turnout was a bit disappointing -- in terms of listeners-per-square foot, it was probably on par with the Barnsdall nadir of last April. (Of the two nights, Seattle was marginally better-attended. Of course it may only have seemed that way because of the architectural configuration of LoFi, which was narrower and more intimate than the cavernous newness of the Someday Lounge. (Both are amazing venues, by the way.))

One measure of the resulting frustration: I actually forgot to introduce Jill in Seattle. This despite the fact that she was the only other "original member" of the group to be on the tour (a circumstance that was only possible because she covered her own airfare), and despite the fact that she provided me with a very valuable point-of-reference throughout the week. Throw in the not-insignificant detail that she is also a dear friend, and you have a very unfortunate situation indeed.

I suppose I should be satisfied with the fact that I managed to fill the entire band with subs, cuz that was certainly the trickiest part of this whole thing. Of course, the musicians who gave of their time had less of a history with the project, which meant that there was a little more of a "hired gun" vibe than I am used to. (That's nobody's fault -- like any other relationship, true musical camaraderie takes time.) On the other hand, I'd be remiss if I didn't point out that a few of the PDX / Seattle players, upon seeing the low turnout, refused to accept any money for their services -- a fact for which I am both embarrassed and grateful.

Anyway, the upshot, for me, was that there was just too big of a contrast with the euphoria of January's east coast tour, with its big, happy audiences; its artistic esprit de corps; and its sense that we were finally getting somewhere. I used the (easy) metaphor of a drug to describe that tour, and now that I have been denied my fix, I see how accurate I was. In the wake of the PDX / Seattle shows, I am finding myself irritable, peevish, self-absorbed, and just generally unpleasant to be around. It's a feeling that is fading a little this week, but I'm clearly going through some kind of withdrawal. (The irony is that there are numerous very cool IJG things being planned for the months ahead -- so I'm fairly certain the cycle is going to begin again. The trick now will be figuring out how to sustain the high.)



Poor Britney. First the breakdown, and then this flyer.

One of the more positive side effects of the PNW shows is that I got to add Reptet (authors of the above flyer, and bookers of these gigs) to the list of cool new bands the IJG has double-billed with. If I haven't been clear, Reptet is yet another under-the-radar mostly-instrumental jazz-derived ensemble that deserves your attention. Except for our mutual friends Gutbucket, they embody the jazz-punk aesthetic (and lifestyle) perhaps better than any other group I am aware of. Their latest record would have made my "best-of-'06" list, if I had actually heard it in '06. And on top of everything, and at great personal risk, two of their members (Samantha Boshnack on trumpet and Izaak Mills on tenor) joined the IJG ranks on both evenings (and thus ended up playing more music than any of us -- and without any perceptible loss in energy). Reptet are truly the bee's knees, and I hereby thank them officially for their friendship.

In the days immediately after the Seattle show, I kept returning to the question of whether it had been a mistake to go ahead and follow through on these gigs after I had discovered that I couldn't afford to bring up any of the IJG regulars. Aside from my disappointment at the turnout, I still think the tour was the right thing to do. As painful as it was to perform to a near-empty room again, at least I have finally put to rest the nagging feeling that I need to start getting my feet wet in the Pacific Northwest scene (even if if I did end up leading with my face and not my feet). If nothing else, I established a beachhead -- I need to remember that success up here is going to take time. I also met a ton of wonderful musicians (again, thanks to Rob Scheps for this -- and thanks as well to Tim DuRoche, Una O'Riordan, Jonathan Sielaff, and Mary-Sue Tobin). A few of the folks on the gig actually had that certain industrial je ne sais wha?, and so hopefully I won't have seen the last of them on an IJG bandstand.



Taking on the impossible, counterclockwise from left: Jim Sisko, trumpet; Rob Scheps, soprano sax; Chris Fagan, alto; Tom Hill, bone; Marc Smason, bone.

Oh, yeah, and I think I discovered a new metaphor for the frustrating insanity of the music business (the last metaphor, you may recall, was Christina Aguilera). I can't say more yet, but stay tuned...

There goes the neighborhood

So as I prepare for the IJG PNW debut (March 7/8), I thought I would pass along the following notes.

1. Portland's own Tim DuRoche has a killer blog, Occasional Jazz Conjectures. DuRoche, until recently the go-to jazz writer for the Willamette Week, Portland's sexiest alterna-paper, is also (among other things) a very groovy, solid, well-informed drummer (I heard him play some pretty funky free jazz with Phillip Greenlief back in October). His writing (like his playing) is what I would call "refreshingly old-school." Item: check out the post entitled "WWWBD?" (as in "What Would Whitney Balliett Do?" -- Balliett being the fella who coined the apposite phrase "the sound of surprise" to describe Louis Armstrong's music); it's a kind of homage to the recently-departed critic. Thanks to the aforementioned Mr. Greenlief, Tim is one of the first cats I met upon moving to PDX; I sincerely hope I can rope him into an Industrial Jazz gig at some point.

2. Speaking of the Willamette Week, here's the blog that collects or references much of their music writing. Without a dedicated jazz person on the roster, it seems a little incomplete to me (although it looks like the intrepid Jason Simms will be stepping up to that particular bat, as I hope to demonstrate soon), but I have nevertheless been enjoying poking through the entries a bit. It's a nice coinkydink, especially in light of the recent conversations we west-coasters have been having about comedy and music, that one of the first pieces I stumbled over was this one about some dude named Michael Rockstar. Actually, a little cursory web-searching suggests that Mr. Rockstar's take on music and comedy isn't exactly my cup o' tea, but I did perk up when I read this question from Amy McCullough: "How is Portland a better fit for a musical comedian than the epicenter of entertainment [L.A.]?" And MR's answer: "I feel like it’s a better fit than L.A. because it’s younger, newer, more open minded. People don’t feel like everything’s been done here like they do in L.A. or New York. They are still open to freshness; they’re more open to the sort of thing I’m doing because they perceive it as fun or quirky, rather than lame or over." Indeed. Veddy interesting...

3. Bathtubs! Nothing but bathtubs!

4. Last night, as I struggled to fight off my second cold of 07, I made my way over to the Musicians Union to catch a little bit of the Rob Scheps Big Band rehearsal. A good percentage of the folks who were present are going to take the plunge with the IJG book in a few weeks, and I wanted to take the opportunity to meet them before we had any sort of proper rehearsal. So in addition to Rob (who I had already met) I got to shake hands with saxophonists Gary Harris, Scott Hall, and Dave Valdez; trumpeters Matt Carr and Garner Pruitt; trombonists Stan Bock and Tom Hill; and drummer Ward Griffiths. All of these folks are going to be on the IJG shows on March 7/8 (can I plug these gigs any more shamelessly, I wonder?), and thank heavens for that -- I have already described Scheps as a motherfucker, and surely you know that motherfuckers tend to associate with other motherfuckers. To put it less obscenely, this band is extremely good -- a fact that was clear even though (or perhaps because) they were reading their way through some truly byzantine Ed Neumeister charts (I was particularly taken with a jaw-dropping arrangement of "E.S.P.").

This subbing-out-the-entire-band-except-for-the-comparatively-financially-secure-Jill thing is turning out to be a very interesting and exciting experience, though on some weird level it feels vaguely like cheating. It also feels vaguely insane.



One index of a quality big band: they sound bitchen even when they're sitting down.