Public service announcement

You were probably hoping that I had given up making these stupid little videos, huh?

Sorry. (Sigh.)

This one is a big commercial for The Industrial Jazz Group's upcoming east coast tour (October 15 - 24, 2009).

Of note: it features unfinished excerpts (raw, unmixed, etc.) from the forthcoming album (to be released in 2010).

It also relies, as usual, on the camera work of Matt Lichtenwalner, Tany Ling, and me.

I suspect that it will make you either want to see the show, or want to run screaming in the other direction.

(Please note: the word "jazzer" is used ironically in this context.)

* * * * *

You may also run screaming in the other direction when I remind you that the Industrial Jazz Group is having a fall fundraiser, in support of our October tour! You can find out more, and contribute to the cause (for as little as $1!), here. Every penny counts! Seriously.

Plus! Check out the remix contest.

Maybe I can use it as a tour vehicle

Here's a spam message I've never seen before (must be new, cuz it made it past the filter):

Directly from our yard, we are please to offer you following for immediate transaction:

SECOND-HAND
- M/V TONG YU, 1002dwt Chemical Tanker (Built 1988 in Japan), USD 680,000
- M/V DONG HANG, 1600dwt Container General Cargo Vessel (Built 1993 in China), USD 850,000
- M/V ZI HANG, 1983dwt Gearless Cargo Vesse (built 1992, Japan), USD 1,000,000

IN POPULAR:
- 7,500dwt Oil Tanker (Built Nov, 2008 in China), USD 9,500,000
- 6740dwt Chemical Tanker (Built Nov, 2008 in China), USD 11,000,000
- 10,800dwt Bulk carrier(Built 2009 in China), USD 9,500,000

BRAND NEW FROM OUR YARD
- 9000dwt MPP (Built Sept, 2009 in China), USD 18,000,000
- 17,000dwt crude/product oil tanker(Built May, 2009 in China) , USD 23,000,000
- 19,800dwt Bulk carrier(Built May, 2009 in China), USD 17,500,000
- 23,800dwt Bulk carrier(Built May, 2009 in China), USD 23,000,000
- 32,000dwt Bulk carrier(Built May, 2009 in China), USD 28,000,000
- 38,000dwt Bulk carrier(Built May, 2009 in China), USD 35,000,000

Feel free to drop us an email or call for any question.

Well, I can honestly say that I have a shitload of questions. And I must admit that the idea of the IJG doing a world tour in a used chemical tanker has a certain appeal...

You're never alone with a saxophone

As if you *need* another version of this one.

In any case, this is the rendition we did at Dizzy's in San Diego (April 5, 2009), which I post here because of our very special sub: Jim Romeo sitting in for Damon Zick on tenor sax. Since I didn't know Jim would be playing with us until a few minutes before the gig, I didn't have time to revise this intro to include his name. But Jill and Tany (with some help from the band and the audience) took the liberty of revising it on the fly, and the result is particularly, gratifyingly silly.

(I also neglected to mention, with respect to the other video of this tune, that the Dore version included the immortal line "Damon Zick / he's such a prick!" [Editor's note: not "suck a prick," as I originally had it in this post -- though that would have been funny too. Thanks to TL for catching that typo.] I really want to take credit for that -- it did occur to me to write it in the first place, since it seems so inevitable, and it rolls off the tongue so effortlessly. But its actual inclusion was Tany Ling's idea.)

Anyway, for those of you running original big bands in other parts of the country: you really want to find yourselves someone like Jim. He has been pretty much single-handedly responsible for our last four or five San Diego trips -- overseeing such mundane details as booking the gigs, making sure the band gets paid, taking the band out to lunch, sitting in with us at the last minute, and so on. For the record: I really wish there were more cats like him in this damned business.

Footage by Matt Lichtenwalner; camera c/o Tany Ling.

Vocals: Jill Knapp and Tany Ling.

The tyranny of the new

So here's one of the central tensions for an independent big band helmed by an easily-bored composer who can only afford to take everyone on the road maybe three or four times a year. Specifically: figuring out how to strike a nice balance between the following things:

1. the need for artistic growth and freshness, and

2. the need to have played a given tune enough times that the band feels the requisite level of "mastery" to perform it with conviction, and

3. the need to promote the tunes that are actually on the album you're selling to an audience that may never have heard them before, and

4. the need to make sure the band doesn't get too "comfortable," cuz comfort tends to obscure the adrenaline-intensive place that can incite the best performances, and

5. the need to make sure the audience is not too disoriented (thus the need to avoid the total lack of familiarity that would obtain if we unleashed an onslaught of new tunes every time we did a show).

I have never thought that I balance these competing needs particularly well. Indeed, if anything, I err on the side of novelty, the hard-to-satisfy impulse to always keep things moving full-speed ahead, and damn the consequences. It's not unlike how I listen to music, in fact: I much prefer to dig into a new album rather than pull out something I already know I like. For me, successful listening -- as I pompously described it during the Meet The Composer talks I did as part of this latest tour -- is a quest for astonishment. (Sometimes I feel like I am more interested in the possibility of astonishment than I am in the guarantee of pleasure from a recording I already know and love.)

The charitable way of looking at this is that I'm a musical (and cultural) omnivore, one whose tastes and temperament are perfectly suited to the Library-of-Alexandria-esque smorgasbord that characterizes our digital age. A less charitable way of looking at it is that I have very fickle, and even superficial tastes. In either case, I fear I'm terribly, even unfairly impatient with audiences who come to a show wanting to hear the songs they already know. Of course, I bear no grudge against that desire, and of course I want to provide some kind of stable ground from which to proceed. But, as I said, I'm impatient.

Goddamnit if Fiona Apple (who I hadn't realized was still making records until IJG drummer Dan Schnelle re-introduced her to me during one of the recent tour-related road trips) didn't nail, in the above YouTubed tune, what I think (again, terribly and unfairly) is going on with the desire for repeating the "tried and true":

Give me something familiar
Somethin' similar
To what we know already
That will keep us steady
Steady, steady
Steady going nowhere

"Nowhere" indeed.

Anyway, normally I try to be pretty incremental in the process of introducing new tunes, bringing in a new one or two per tour, and adding it to the stuff that is already working well. But you keep adding and adding, and eventually you have some pretty outsized sets. So this time I decided to bite the bullet and gut the show of the tunes that have been staples of ours for 3-4 years now: "Howl," "PDX LIX LAX," "Bongo Non Troppo," "Fuck the Muck," and "Big Ass Truck." Sure, it felt a little like sitting them all down on an iceberg and pushing them out to sea. But I think it was the right thing to do.

And with that, I think the band is now officially in a "new phase," which means there will be a new album soon. More on that later... in the meantime, watch this space for yet still even more videos of the new tunes, of which there are four.

Ah, what the hell, here's a preview: a little sample of our "Theme for a Cable News Show," recorded by someone in our San Diego audience (warning: at one point it becomes very thong-centric):

Street date: your Mom!

Another of the interludes that peppered our most recent tour. This one was the show opener. I was going for a self-deprecating dada-Broadway vibe, and I guess I got a little carried away.

The video is a composite of a pre-gig rehearsal (in Bakersfield, April 3) and our live performance at Dizzy's in San Diego (April 5). Hence the discrepancies in sound quality. Footage by Matt Lichtenwalner.

The "libretto" doth proceed thusly:

Jill: Oh, crap here we go / it's another IJG show...

Jill and Tany: I've heard this band, they blow / You never really know how low they will go...

Jill: How low, low, low, low, low, low!

Tany: You never know how to act --

Band: Is it ironic?

Tany: When they dispense with wit and tact --

Dan R.: What's tact?

Band: Dinner at Applebee's! [a reference to our tactless tune, "Il Ponderoso / Apropos of Nothing"]

Jill and Tany: In the end we always end up feeling sorry for them / Pitiful, miserable jazz musicians!

[Evan's Kenny G. imitation]

Tany: Trying way too hard to make a point.

Jill: There is nothing real about this joint.

All: Speaking of joints, the new record's dropping soon!

[Gavin quotes "PDX LIX LAX" over the bassline for "Gonna Make You Sweat"]

Jill and Tany: But why should we take the time to hear this band?

Mike R.: Street date: your Mom!

Jill and Tany: Do they think we really need to understand --

Ian: We tweeted about it!

Jill and Tany: -- whatever truly ponderous thing they have planned?

All: But wait: there's more, if you act now!

Dan S.: It slices! And it dices!

All: And sounds pretty!

Tany: Oh, let's just get it over with...

* * * * *

And there you have it.

I promise I'll get back to uploading the "real" tunes soon.

The pause that refreshes

Wow. Cool. That was simply a great experience all around. (I'm talking about the most recent tour, of course.)

I'll have something more in-depth to say about it by and by. For the moment, as I ponder the highlights, and review the recordings, and examine the footage (and the footage, and the footage) -- I am, in spite of my manic nature, taking a moment to enjoy the glow.

Inane, I know. Now is no time to rest, Durkin -- there is so much yet to be done!

Duly noted. Gonna go put the laurels back in storage now. In the meantime, speaking of inanity (which, as you know, I don't consider an entirely bad thing), here's a flavor of the sort of Broadway-musical-from-hell vibe that informed our show this time out. Be sure to stick around for the thong:



Much more to come. I promise it's not all that stupid.

We're coming, we're coming, we're coming, we're here!

This is tour week for the IJG: we'll be doing our annual jaunt through the land that gave birth to the band: mystical, zany southern CA.

I've been thinking about that detail lately. It's odd: I'm extremely happy that I no longer live in LA. I adore Portland. In some ways, I still identify as an east-coaster (since that was where I was born and raised). But when it comes down to it, the IJG will always be a California band, at least in spirit. I can't imagine having started the group in any other place. And my impressions of the region are so deep and strong that I suspect they will continue to inform my writing for years to come.

In any case, I find it a stroke of almost unbelievable good luck that I managed to end up in LA for long enough to (almost by accident) get into the wacky jazz business -- which, it turns out, is my kind of business! I don't really believe in fate or anything like that, but yeah. I feel pretty damned lucky.

So I just wanted to say: thank you, CA. See you in a few days!

Upcoming

A VERY STUPID, hastily-edited little promo spot about our upcoming tour, done in the style of the bombastic action movie trailer. (All that's missing is the deep masculine voice-over.)

Does this make you want to see one of our shows? Please?

Friday, April 3 (Bakersfield) - Cal State Bakersfield's Dore Theater. 8 PM.

Saturday, April 4 (LA) - El Cid. 10 PM.

Sunday, April 5 (San Diego) - Please note the new venue! We are now at Dizzy's in San Diego! Mesa College Big Band at 6 PM, PLOTZ! at 7 PM, and IJG at 8 PM!

More info at the IJG website.

Tour tales no. 4: "Jazz-Pop Jerkoff"

Yep, it's another one of these goddamned things. Audio is from the same show as "The Bee Dance": so that would be Cory Wright, Lee Elderton, Evan Francis, Ward Baxter, Mary-Sue Tobin, Mieke Bruggeman (reeds); Dan Rosenboom, Steph Richards, Ian Carroll, Nelson Bell (brass); Dan Schnelle, Oliver Newell (rhythm section); Jill Knapp, Tany Ling (vox), and me (compositions and scowling).

Also like "The Bee Dance," this is a revised (and much improved) version of a tune that we premiered in March.

What is a "jazz-pop jerkoff"? Beats me. I suppose it's a metaphor for the inevitable intersection of the "art music" and "music industry" worlds. None of us is immune to this intersection, really -- even of the most "serious" (i.e., thoughtful, committed, talented) musicians still have to deal with the whole publicity / marketing / business side of things. That's such a common observation these days (not so much when I was growing up) that it hardly bears repeating. But that doesn't make the situation any less absurd. And we all know how I love absurdity.

Stock footage (as usual) c/o the amazing Internet Archive. This time I found some cool snippets from 1. a burlesque short, 2. an "educational" film called "Junior Prom," and 3. a brief documentary about the famous Victor record plant in Camden, New Jersey. (Where my Dad grew up, incidentally.)

There's a word that I wanted to leave you with... hmm... what was it again?

Oh, yeah: "enjoy"! (No, those aren't random quotation marks.)

Tour tales no. 3: The groups all live together

From time to time people approach me with the following question: "Dude, what the hell possessed you to want to start a big-band (of sorts)? I mean, why a big band? Isn't it hard enough just trying to play something that resembles jazz in this day and age? Why not make your life at least marginally easier, and go for a quintet? A quartet? Hell, you play piano: why not a power trio? So, you know: what the fuck?!"

I'm paraphrasing, of course.

You may already be imagining my answer to this question. Perhaps you can see me leaning back in my chair, putting on my "serious face," stroking my goatee thoughtfully, and intoning these words: "The big band is the one and only vehicle for my peculiar artistic vision. It is the only means by which I can say what I want to say. In short, I have no choice."

As Borat would say: not! Even if I had the chutzpah to hold forth as such with a straight face, the real answer would be that there is nothing about what I do (or what I want to do) that has convinced me that I was destined to write for a big band. It was all, as I've suggested before, an accident. A happy accident, to be sure, but an accident all the same. And while I've discovered that this configuration of musicians can make some pretty unique and cool sounds, and while I am long since officially addicted, I'm simultaneously suspicious that I keep the IJG together at least in part because I genuinely like the people that it attracts. These suspicions began when I realized that putting the group on the road is getting to be a little bit like going on a vacation. An exhausting and expensive vacation, yes, but a vacation nonetheless.

All of which is fortunate, cuz during the recent week-long PNW tour we decided to save a little money by housing eight IJG members (Schnelle, Newell, Francis, Wright, Ling, Richards, Rosenboom, Carroll) here at Casa de Durkin-Robinson instead of in a local hotel. That's in addition to the three people, two cats, and one dog who already call CdDR home. (Jill and Matt were originally going to crash here too, but ended up staying elsewhere because of cat allergies and a Burning Man-induced need for privacy and comfort. Everyone else in this version of the group was PDX-based).

Phew! It was probably madness on my part to suggest this accommodation plan. It's true that one of the things that attracted me to CdDR in the first place was the possibility that I could eventually convert portions of it into a studio / rehearsal / IJG cottage industry space. So I always imagined that it would be filled with musicians from time to time. It's also true that we have much more room here than we could have ever afforded in LA. But our previous record for house guests was seven -- and that only seemed possible at the time because many of those folks were sharing beds. In terms of sleeping arrangements, at least, if seven was a stretch, eight was way more than enough.

But in addition to the space issue, there was the typical problem of trying to integrate tour logistics (and logic) with my cost-cutting measures. Using CdDR as a home base for the IJG would save me the enormous headache of six nights' worth of hotel fees, yes, but it would also mean driving back here after each gig (except for the Portland gig itself, all of the shows on this tour were between 2 and 3 hours from PDX). That made for some pretty late nights and a whole lotta driving. (On the flip side, it also made for some pretty leisurely days.)



Anyway, the whole slumber party aspect of the tour could have gone a lot of different ways, but in the end it was a truly beautiful thing. What makes this even more surprising for me personally is that in general I'm not terribly comfortable in large groups. You would think that one of the qualities of leading a big band is that you'd have to be a bit of an extrovert, but in general, my personality has always skewed toward the "socially awkward" side of things. (Which may help explain why I turned to writing (of all kinds) in the first place.) To paraphrase Zappa: most of the time, socializing is, for me, like exercise.

But with the IJG, more and more, I have as much fun hanging out with the group as I do playing any of the gigs. So for me the memory of this tour will be as much about well-lubricated late-night political discussions, or viewings of Batman (you know the one), or impromptu art projects, as it will be about "The Bee Dance" (for instance).

(We interrupt this post to share two of the aforementioned impromptu art projects: "Dan Schnelle," by Steph Richards; and "Steph Richards," by Dan Schnelle. Apparently I'm not the only dadaist in the group.)





Of course, the success of this housing arrangement was made possible at least in part by the fact that some members of the group have the uncanny ability to fall asleep pretty much wherever they happen to be, whenever they like. (How I wish I could do that.) And it was also facilitated to a large degree by my amazing wife -- the best wife in the world, I'm quite sure -- who probably didn't realize what she was getting into when I talked her into letting the band stay here, but who handled the high traffic, late nights, and extra cooking with seemingly boundless reserves of aplomb.

The bottom line was that everybody was chill.



I recall a fragment of a conversation -- I think it was immediately after our last hit, in Yakima, as we were driving around looking for coffee and gas to fuel our 3-hour ride home. Dan Rosenboom and Steph Richards both remarked how unusual it was to work with a group in which the members all got along so well. They suggested that this feature of the IJG experience is attributable to the music, as if the music caused the camaraderie. From my perspective the scenario is just the opposite. The music is the way it is because of the camaraderie. That's the hard-to-explain root source of the "IJG sound." (I have always made clear that I cannot write in a vacuum; lucky for me the group chemistry provides me with all the inspiration I need whenever it comes time to put the dots on paper.)

I suppose I recognize this because there have been past lineups that haven't delivered 100% on the chemistry side of things. Once in a while we have had folks fleetingly join the group who may have been truly stellar players in any other context, but who just didn't "get" what we were doing, at least in part because they didn't pick up on the social vibe. It wasn't a big deal, really -- just evidence that making music is about much more than the technical side of things. And that the IJG will never be a hired-gun, repertory-type big band.

Anyway, over eight years (or however long we've been together) I guess you develop a sense for the necessary dynamic, and the result is that the current broader IJG network -- which is in fact much bigger than a mere 16 people, and includes our beloved Calartians-who-can't-always-tour, east coast folks, PDX newbies, and so on -- has become much more of what I would have to call an extended family of sorts. If I may be so bold.



Alright, this installment of the tour narrative is getting impossibly maudlin, so I'll sign off for now. Up next: the video for one of our other new tunes: "Jazz-Pop Jerkoff." (I'm one. Are you one?)

(photo credits: 1, 6: Ling. 2, 3, 4, 5: Durkin)

Tour tales no. 2: "The Bee Dance"

Okay. Here's another one of my slipshod, shamefully self-promotional IJG movie productions, utilizing audio and video from our recent Pacific Northwest Tour. The audio was entirely recorded in Yakima, which, partly because it was outdoors, was the most highly-mic'd of all of our shows this go-round. So you can actually almost hear the mouthpiece buzzing part at the end of the song.

This tune has more or less been kicking my ass for over a year now. I think that maybe -- just maybe -- I finally got it right this time (this is the third version). One thing I can say for sure: it's amazing the difference a key can make. Anyway, please excuse the typical problems of live sound and etc.

So what's with the title? That's right, this is another in our song cycle of tunes dealing with the subject of animals -- an aesthetic obsession described in more detail here. If you want to know more about waggle dance (the technical term), here's a neat article. Apparently,

[t]he direction and duration of waggle runs are closely correlated with the direction and distance of the patch of flowers being advertised by the dancing bee. Flowers located directly in line with the sun are represented by waggle runs in an upward direction on the vertical combs, and any angle to the right or left of the sun is coded by a corresponding angle to the right or left of the upward direction. The distance between hive and recruitment target is encoded in the duration of the waggle runs. The farther the target, the longer the waggle phase, with a rate of increase of about 75 milliseconds per 100 meters.

And here's some truly rad footage of real bees getting down with their bad selves.

Anyway, this incarnation of the tune features: Dan Rosenboom (trumpet / piccolo trumpet), Steph Richards (trumpet), Ian Carroll (bone), Nelson Bell (bone), Cory Wright (soprano sax), Lee Elderton (soprano sax), Evan Francis (alto sax), Ward Baxter (tenor sax), Mary-Sue Tobin (tenor sax), Mieke Bruggeman (bari sax), Jill Knapp (vox), Tany Ling (vox), Dan Schnelle (drums), Oliver Newell (bass), and yours truly (conducting, composition).

Opening clip of a bee c/o Ivan Bridgewater and the Internet Archive. Other footage c/o Tany Ling, Jill Knapp, Matt Lichtenwalner, and Andrew Durkin.

More to come...

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?

A band of many influences

You never know when one of them is going to pop up in an impromptu post-gig singalong (this one occurred last Wednesday night, when we were in Eugene):

"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.

Whom blog?

Why, my wife, of course.

Here is her post commemorating our neighbor Chuck's 95th birthday party, which we attended this weekend.

I know, I know, she kicks my ass at blogging too.

Also, if you haven't seen it already, you need to go check out Kris Tiner's photo-heavy series of posts on the trip he and the Empty Cage Quartet recently took to France. Too much to link separately here, but if you start at May 28 and work forward you'll see what I mean. (Or just click on the May and June archives.) Hot diggity.

If you haven't heard the ECQ, I'll be including something from their great new disc in an upcoming mux.

In the meantime, here's a different American in Paris, just because:

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.

Life's Rich Pageant

The business of booking a tour (even a short tour) is long, tedious, and mind-numbing. You never know the sort of response you're going to get when you fire out that "would you be interested in booking us?" email (you never know if you're going to get a response at all, in fact). To some extent you have to steel yourself against the inevitable frustration of interacting with folks who are themselves overworked and underpaid. It's a sure-fire recipe for agita.

Of course, some booking agents are a joy to work with -- I'm thinking of the ones who cut right to the chase, cuz that always makes life a lot easier. And then every once in a while you have an exchange with someone who -- even though they might not be able to help you directly -- approaches the booking dance in such an idiosyncratic way that it makes the experience weird and human enough to be entertaining in and of itself.

And when that happens, you have to smile, even if only in confusion.

So a big thank you to the dude from Washington state (he's a complete stranger to me, so I'm not at liberty to reveal his identity) who recently sent me this email in response to a booking request:

You guys are fantastic! You're too good to play here but we'd still love to have you! You also might be too BIG to play here and by BIG I mean LARGE but not FAT, because that would be rude, even if it were true, which it isn't, not that there would be anything bad if it were true, except for the potential discrimination on my part. You'd never fit in our little back room. Again, NOT due to any idividual girth, rather required cumulative elbow-room, which is not some Olympia hippie PC term which circumvents the hatred inherent in the word FAT while communicating the idea of FAT. No one has fat elbows... they taper. God, I wish you could play here. Could you maybe all squeeze? Circular breath? MIDI? No no no. Seriously, how many are you on this tour? Maybe we can butter the walls (no licking them fatty).

The road report: March tour, 2008

That there is two thirds of the Industrial Jazz Group, circa March 29, at around 8:30 PM, high in the hills of Berkeley, a few hours before the final gig of our CD release tour for LEEF.

Back row, L-R: Dan Schnelle (drums), Mike Richardson (bone), Damon Zick (soprano sax), Oliver Newell (bass), Dan Rosenboom (trumpet), yours truly (beer), Gavin Templeton (soprano sax). Front row, L-R: Stephanie Richards (trumpet), Tany Ling (vocals), Jill Knapp (vocals). (House and hospitality for this pic c/o Leila Ruyan.)

Not pictured: Ian Carroll (bone), Kris Tiner... at last! (trumpet), Darren Johnston (trumpet), Evan Francis (alto), Kasey Knudsen (tenor sax), Tom Griesser (bari sax), Gabriel Sundy (bari sax), Paul Perez (bari sax), Brian Walsh (tenor sax), Adam Schroeder (bari).

My deepest thanks to everyone involved in this adventure, onstage and off. In the latter category are Matt Lichtenwalner and Tristan (sorry Tristan I don't know your last name) -- boyfriends of bandmembers who both picked up the slack wherever they saw it lying around -- as well as the folks who helped us get gigs: Jim Romeo (San Diego), Kris Tiner (Bake-town), Phillip Greenlief (Oakland), and Ross Hammond (Sacramento). And big thanks to everyone who loaned us gear (Doug Davis, Greenlief again, Romeo again, Tiner again, the members of Joaquin's Night Train). And more and more thanks to those who housed us, fed us, came to our shows, and bought our CDs.

Yes, I'm talking to you. The IJG loves you.



Leaves on a table

You know things couldn't have gone off without a hitch, though, right?

Here was one of my initial challenges: the delivery date for the packaging of the album -- the neat little Arigato Pak solution to the plastic problem that I have been obsessing about for months -- was, as I should have anticipated, delayed by a few days, which meant that I had to order a rush delivery of 100 pcs. to be shipped to me on the road (they arrived on the second day of the tour).

Still, what would otherwise have been a fairly time-intensive task (folding the damned things into the appropriate shape) was made easier by the willing help of the aforementioned Matt and Tristan, and a few other folks as well. (Thanks, everyone.)

Note 1: Something I noticed only after-the-fact about the white-against-yellow writing on the back of the packaging: it is only truly visible in natural light. Initially, that sort of freaked me out, but now I think it's kind of cool.

Note 2: we have yet to develop out LEEF's little "liner notes and extras" page -- hopefully in the next week or two.

Anyway, LEEF is here! Welcome, LEEF.



Near-nudity at 21 Grand

We crossed a few more thresholds of taste with this tour (but who's keeping score, really?). The anticipated (and long-overdue) return of provocative trombonist Mike Richardson (owner of the fleshy thighs in the above pic, snapped at our Oakland gig) may have sparked a pattern of obscenity in some of my newer pieces... but wherever the impulse came from, we now have a song in which two enormously gifted and classically-trained singers (that would be Jill and Tany) are forced to proclaim, "Dinner at Applebee's / fuck all night / dinner at Applebee's / f-f-f-f-fuck all night."

(And that bit happens shortly after the same singers waggle their middle fingers at the audience, in a spoof of the greatest dance-music cliche of all time, which we render thusly: "Raise your finger in the air / wave it like you just don't care.")

(Oh, yeah. And if you were "lucky," you got to hear the above-referenced new tune -- ridiculously titled "Il Ponderoso / Apropos of Nothing" -- on one of the nights that Mr. Richardson's entire performance costume consisted of a single silver thong.)

Make of it what you will. I certainly wasn't expecting any of this to, uh, go down easily. But I'll be damned if I wasn't drawn into post-show pleasantries by more than one seemingly-conservative soccer Mom type. Did they not hear the lyrics, perhaps? Ah, who cares. Music should be the great unifier, n'est-ce pas?

(We even had one night where Jill apologized to a middle school (?) kid named Josh, who was in the audience -- with his parents (?) -- as she introduced "Fuck the Muck." Josh's smart rejoinder -- "Don't you think I say worse things than that at school?" -- produced an excited chant from the band and the audience ("Josh! Josh! Josh! Josh!"), and the kid was summarily invited to the stage (by Jill) to formally introduce the tune, which he did with remarkable gusto. Thanks, Josh!)

I'm still a great believer in the power of obscenity. Despite the remarkable way jazz has, in some circles, become a signifier of politeness and urbanity (nothing wrong with either of those, mind you), most jazz musicians I know are profoundly, gorgeously foul-mouthed. I suspect that's the norm in the community, in fact. Why not celebrate it?

Or use it as a tool? In a world steeped in deception, layered in mask after mask after mask (so that even the phrase "keeping it real" means anything but), the greatest value may be in the stuff that can actually cut through -- whether sound, or text, or image, or idea. (I'm not saying that we've accomplished anything truly incisive yet in this group. But we're trying, and that's partly where the fun lies, for me.)

Off-stage / Ob-scene. Rear guard / avant-garde. Apollo / Dionysus. These are probably the central tensions (and inspirations) of my artistic life. (Are you surprised that the working title for the next album is The Ballad of In and Out?)



Keeping with the animal theme

"Animal songs. Nothing but animal songs."

Well, not entirely. But close. Lately I've tried to keep my writing "grounded" around a one-page list of "keywords" -- concepts, issues, characters (etc.) that help to give our show some kind of coherence and identity (even if that identity is only fleetingly expressed in lyrics). Yes, one of the keywords is "fuck" (you probably guessed that, right?), but there is also a whole cluster of animal keywords -- "frogs," "bees," "wolves," "goats," "crabs," "chickens," "pigs," and "fish" are all on the list. I don't know what sense to make of this (if there is any). But on some level I'm sure the animal keywords have to do with the fact that I spend my days with a three-and-a-half-year-old, who of course is also fascinated with animals, as most children are.

What was it that Stravinsky said about his music being best understood by children and animals? (And what is it that I wonder from time to time about people losing their fascination with both animals and music as they age?)

Of course, on the negative side of this equation, there is also the underlying theme of every California trip we make -- the inevitable passage through the sprawling expanse of "Cowschwitz" (thanks to Evan Francis for introducing me to that term). I'm not exactly a PETA person, and this surreal hamburger factory is really only about ten minutes out of a six hour journey between LA and the Bay area. Still, the whole thing is not only depressing, but disgusting -- can it be normal to stand around in your own shit all day? -- and its continued existence seems somehow like further evidence of a general decline in western civilization.

Or something like that.



A near-miss in Bakersfield

One of the other challenges this go-round was when one of my guys -- let's call him "Slick" -- nearly disappeared into the wilds of Bakersfield, lured by the siren song of two of the city's native daughters. It made for a little bit of a stressful afternoon the next day, when he was a no-show as we were trying to leave town with enough time to get up to Oakland for another gig. But it also made for a comical comeback when he arrived shortly before downbeat (roughly five hours later) in a rented silver Mustang (I guess silver was one of the official colors for this tour).

You might think I'd be pissed off by this sort of thing, cuz it does happen from time to time when we're on the road. But here's my take: as long as, in the end, everything makes for good music (and without a doubt, "Slick" knows how to make good music), and nobody gets hurt, I'm cool. As Zappa said:

I respect musicians' idiosyncrasies -- they add "texture" to a performance. Musicians tend to generate better "texture" when they get "The Blow Job." Yes, I want them to find that elusive cross between a waitress and an industrial vacuum cleaner.

That about sums it up -- except that I'd use "Blow Job" as a metaphor (cuz different musicians want different things).



Six facts about me

1. I have been (consciously) writing music since I was seven or eight.

2. This year I will be forty.

3. I now have a kid of my own, and a mortgage.

4. I have a lovely wife who "gets" me, and who puts up with my artistic delusions / ambitions. (So the fact that this band is still around is partly her fault.)

5. I have never felt saner in my life, but I have never had more people openly questioning my sanity.

6. If being a musician -- and especially a composer for an original big band -- is an abnormal career aspiration, then as I get older, I get farther and farther away from being able to return to life as a "normal." In some ways, I feel like I am living out this (hackneyed) artist-fantasy in the most bass-ackwards way possible. Instead of having committed myself to music as a vocation in college -- which probably would have been more sensible, but, given my personality, might have burned me out by the time I was thirty -- I actually tried for a while to get into a more "respectable" career (a "real job," if you will), always doing music passionately but surreptitiously, and splitting myself into two incompatible identities. In a way, that was a useful experience, because it engendered, over a period of about ten years, a sense of longing (and resistance-to-normalcy) that simply had to spill over at some point. I guess that's what's happening now.



Getting paid

Wow, these tour blog posts are becoming a little redundant -- there are only so many ways you can say "Hey, that was a great tour, I love the folks in this band, I love the audiences, I can't wait to do it again." All that was true this time too. But my sense is that we've reached a certain plateau of "success": more often than not, we have great crowds, great responses... and lukewarm-to-shitty bread. Once in a while, the bread is better than lukewarm -- but not often enough. If I could only afford to hire a business manager, I might be breaking even (how's that for irony?).

Still, that's fine. For a while. But how wide is this plateau? How long do we have to stay at this level before we can move up to the next one? (And what is the next one, exactly?) Those are really the big questions. Cuz this is very cool, to be sure, but it's still an ever-so-delicate balancing act, made possible only by an absurd dance of nonexistent budgets and overstretched credit cards and less-than-optimal traveling conditions (and so on). That part of it may not always be obvious from the outside. Or at least it seems that way whenever someone finds out what I do, and asks the same initial question: "How do you make it work? You know, like, financially?"

As if! Please, everybody, listen carefully. I do not make this work financially. Maybe I make it work in most other ways. But financially? No sir, not yet.



And there's the rub. Truthfully, one of the things that has kept the group going for so long is the participation of ridiculously talented musicians who also happen to be willing to play in the group for ridiculously low sums of money. Because they like the music, they like the people, and they like the experience. Many of them have told me explicitly that, if it came down to it, they would do IJG gigs for free. Some have even refused to take any money on the nights when we have clearly bombed (thankfully we are bombing a lot less these days).

All of which is flattering beyond belief. Trouble is, it's not enough. The guilt that accompanies dragging these folks from the comfort of their warm beds (or wherever) to head out on an adventure that may or may not help them pay their bills -- well, it's becoming excruciating. That guilt is not going to stop me (at least in part because I'm addicted), but my compulsion to tour doesn't sit well with the fact that the tours aren't producing the kind of cashflow that the project needs (and deserves).

So boy oh boy am I obsessing about the question of "payoff." I need to speed up the slow burn. (And to that end I have some new schemes which I'll be revealing soon...)

Don't get me wrong -- I'm not kvetching. Ah, hell, let's end this with some levity:

And now a series of random shots



Ever wonder what kick-ass percussionists look like while eating breakfast? That's Dan Schnelle and Tatsuya Nakatani (who double-billed with us at Bakersfield, and pretty much floored everybody).



Chalk graffiti at the Fox and Goose. Not sure which list Gavin is at the top of, but I always listen to what the chalk says.



Ian C. catching Z's by the fire. (Didn't I say something about less-than-optimal traveling conditions? That's right, here's one of my guys sleeping on the fucking floor.)



Thank you, thank you, thank you, and goodnight. See you again real soon.

Because I have no words yet...

...I must continue to rely on videos to tell the story of our recent tour.

This is unedited footage of (most of) our performance of "Boozey McBombalot," recorded by Matt Lichtenwalner at Dizzy's in San Diego. (The last minute or so got cut off.)

We debuted "Boozey" in Ohio last September, but this is a revised version.

Piccolo trumpet by Dan Rosenboom (the guy in the hot dog hat). That bit he is shouting at the beginning (it's hard to hear without a microphone, I know), is "major combat / operations" -- which eventually morphs into "diarrhea / diarrhea." Cuz, you know, that's what it starts to sound like after a while.

The rest of the San Diego band: Damon Zick, Gavin Templeton (soprano sax); Evan Francis (alto sax); Cory Wright, Brian Walsh (tenor sax); Gabriel Sundy (bari sax); Steph Richards, Kris Tiner (trumpet); Mike Richardson, Ian Carroll (bone); Oliver Newell (bass); Dan Schnelle (drums); Jill Knapp, Tany Ling (vox).

Dizzy's is always a blast for us, and this show was no exception (even though we set up in probably the most inefficient way possible -- one long line of horns, good gawd).

Note the perfectly-timed train hit at around the 1:18 mark.

Whee!

Incident at Umbria

A full-on tour post is coming soon, but in the meantime I wanted to lay this new video on you.

You all remember the hubbub last July, yes? (If the words "Jarrett," "Umbria," and "2007" don't ring a bell, you'll need to click that link for the appropriate background.)

I'll probably never be able to convince anyone that our version of this "performance" (i.e., my setting-to-music of the controversial comments) is not meant to be disrespectful of Mr. Jarrett -- even though that's the case. I mean, sure we're having a little fun at his expense, but the larger issue for me is the way in which a mega-jazz-event like Umbria exemplifies a frightening (and counterproductive) divide in the jazz world. Let's face it: the superstars and the scrappy up-and-comers are inhabiting different universes. There is no clear relationship or implied trajectory between them. And speaking from the perspective of the scrappies, Keith J.'s outburst couldn't have been stranger or more incomprehensible to me had he been from, say, Mars. (You mean they're actually paying you to play at Umbria and you're going to fucking complain?!)

Anyway, this is one of the better renditions (it was recorded in Bakersfield) of the piece with which we opened our shows last week. For handy reference, here are the lyrics in question:

I do not speak Italian
so someone who speaks English can tell
all these assholes with cameras
to turn them fucking off
right now
no more photographs, including that red light right
there

If we see any more lights
I reserve the right and I think
the privilege is yours to hear us
but I reserve the right
and Jack and Gary reserve the right
to stop playing and leave the goddammed city

I see a red light there and that means you, you you
(4X)

The text is verbatim (and I guess typical) Jarrett, except for the repeated line at the end, which I borrowed from Daniel Brio's All About Jazz piece on the incident.

And here's Kris Tiner's writeup on the Bakersfield show.

Like I said, more soon. I'm just getting my head back together.

[cinematography by Matt Lichtenwalner -- thanks, Matt!]

[vox: Tany Ling (soprano), Jill Knapp (alto)]