The world we have lost

Came across an interesting article on Jim O'Rourke today:

Mr. O’Rourke’s production style is precise and dry; he creates a sound picture in which tiny sonic details matter. But where his Drag City records are concerned, everything matters: the pacing, the length, the sound, the cover images. For this reason he won’t allow “The Visitor,” or any of his albums, to be sold as downloads, on iTunes or anywhere else. He’s taking a stand against the sound quality of MP3s; he’s also taking a stand in favor of artists being able to control the medium and reception of their work.

“You can no longer use context as part of your work,” he said, glumly, “because it doesn’t matter what you do, somebody’s going to change the context of it. The confusion of creativity, making something, with this Internet idea of democratization ...” he trailed off, disgusted. “It sounds like old-man stuff, but I think it’s disastrous for the possibilities of any art form.”

Like me, O'Rourke is 40. I suppose, when you're that "old," and faced with the sort of industry-wide upheaval that the music business is currently going through, you're entitled to a certain degree of curmudgeonliness. And while I generally try to resist that sort of thing, for the purposes of this post I'm going to broadly agree with O'Rourke's assessment of where music is at, because it gives me a convenient excuse to express a few thoughts I've been mulling over anyway.

First: the obvious. To the extent that jazz's viability as a music of the future is in jeopardy, that situation has a lot to do with various threats to the existence of a strong and extensive fan community.

But what is a fan? Consider: a true fan does much more than simply "like" a certain artist or genre. True fanhood is, essentially, an irrational enterprise.

For instance: I have written before about the importance of context for a fan's love of a given work. I may be fascinated by the biographies of my favorite musicians, because they provide an engaging frame -- but the music itself is no different whether I know the relevant background or not. The fact that I seem to enjoy a given tune more once I have obtained said information strikes me as somewhat odd.

But if you really want to talk about irrationality, think about the extent to which fanhood has traditionally involved elaborate rituals of fetishization. While true music fans love music, and love stories about music, we also love to fetishize the objects that convey music.

(Right? I'm assuming that you too have lovingly caressed a well-worn LP jacket.)

So the fact that we are developing a purely digital, artifact-less musical culture is maybe a little concerning. Cuz, you know: how do you fetishize an mp3?



And what happens to fanhood when you no longer have an art object to fetishize? Do you stop caring about the art itself? I wonder. While people still do buy physical media, I suspect that in general our relationship with recordings (i.e., qua recordings) has become much more ethereal, and much more casual (I know, I know). Who really worries about losing, misplacing, or wearing out a recording anymore? In my own case, I transfer most of the digital music I download onto disc, but I rarely buy jewel cases in which to protectively house them. I also gave up on CD wallets. Generally I just let the damned things accumulate in piles on my desk, or else just stack 'em back on the spindle they came from. Once they have been "consumed" for a given period of time, the MP3s, in turn, get backed up onto numerous hard-drives, which I hardly ever consult because there is so much new music to get to.

One could argue that the whole history of recording technology thus far has been driven by the search for devices and media that make the experience of music durable, reliable, and convenient. At their most fragile, brittle, and finite, older forms of music media (the 78, say, or even the cassette, which was always getting "eaten" at the wrong time (in my experience, anyway)) seemed to invite a greater degree of fetishization. We knew they wouldn't last forever, we knew they might be hard to replace, we knew they actually required some effort to obtain -- so of course we treated them with greater reverence.

Now that everything is so much easier, more durable and convenient, is that reverence harder to come by?

[photo credits: puroticorico, carlcollins]

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Speaking of "fetishizing": 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.

Oh yeah, and we also have a remix contest.

Fight the good fight

Sometimes I miss LA.

Re: Rocco Somazzi's latest Quixote-esque mission: the Angel City Jazz Festival.

(You may or may not recognize a few former / one-off members of the Industrial Jazz Group in the above trailer.)

The blind interrupting the blind

(Yawn.)

UPDATE:

Apparently, Viacom decided this non-event (Kanye West interrupting Taylor Swift at the VMA awards, if you must know) was so important and valuable that the video had to be removed from YouTube.

(Double yawn.)

Ah, well:

Political coda, plus assorted flim-flam

Okay. A parting shot on this subject before the weekend.

Probably the best political commentary I've seen this week comes from Ta-Nehisi Coates:

We (liberals) have spent so much of our time on the losing end of the past 30 years, that the impulse is to fight every battle, and challenge every press release. Moreover, media has uncovered our inner crazy. HuffPo blasts every utterance from Jon Kyl in bold font. Politico reports every feint and jab, like it's the whole fight. I'm not blaming them, they're doing well because they've figured out something about our inner animal.

It's fine for us laymen to indulge that, but I don't want to be led by people who think that outlets (including this one) which weigh in on who "won the week" are some kind of gauge of their actual progress. I don't want to be led by people who think that "getting angry" is a actual political strategy. I want to be led by a killer. A cold, unemotional, professional killer.

I keep meeting lefties who tell me Obama's "too soft" with these guys, and I keep looking at them like they're crazy. I am going to go out on a limb and say that there is something deeper at work here, something beyond the policy fights. I think a lot of us don't just want Obama to be effective, we want him to exact some measure of revenge. It's smart to understand the difference between the two, and moreover, how the desire for one can undermine the other. A section of conservatives love Sarah Palin because she drives liberals crazy. That she drives a lot of other people crazy too, and hence undermines herself, is beside the point.

Let's not make that mistake.

In other words, let's not be MORANS.

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Other stuffs:

-- The New Yorker shout-out. (Big thanks to DJA for making this happen.)

-- "Yo, Jimbo!"

-- The Industrial Jazz Group Remix Contest.

-- I'm honored to be guest-posting on Seattle trumpeter Jason Parker's blog this coming Monday. Gonna try really hard not to fuck it up.

-- And finally, this:

The speech that did what speeches do

I'm sure some of you right-wing Industrial Jazz Group fans (if indeed there are any of you still out there) are tired of hearing me rant about my own political views, and would prefer instead more inside scoop about preparations for the upcoming tour. I promise I'll get back to music-related posting soon.

In the meantime: for what it's worth (not much, I know), I must admit that I breathed a small sigh of relief as I watched the speech last night. Part of that was attributable to the fact that Obama had clearly put on his "angry face" -- a look that I associate with the Pulp Fiction-inspired image that circulated during the election.

Still, given the general frenzy of the last few weeks, I was prepared for disappointing news of one sort or another. So I was genuinely surprised when he got to this:

My guiding principle is, and always has been, that consumers do better when there is choice and competition. That's how the market works. [...]

Now, I have no interest in putting insurance companies out of business. They provide a legitimate service, and employ a lot of our friends and neighbors. I just want to hold them accountable. (Applause.) And the insurance reforms that I've already mentioned would do just that. But an additional step we can take to keep insurance companies honest is by making a not-for-profit public option available in the insurance exchange. (Applause.) [...]

[...] the insurance companies and their allies [...] argue that these private companies can't fairly compete with the government. And they'd be right if taxpayers were subsidizing this public insurance option. But they won't be. I've insisted that like any private insurance company, the public insurance option would have to be self-sufficient and rely on the premiums it collects. But by avoiding some of the overhead that gets eaten up at private companies by profits and excessive administrative costs and executive salaries, it could provide a good deal for consumers, and would also keep pressure on private insurers to keep their policies affordable and treat their customers better, the same way public colleges and universities provide additional choice and competition to students without in any way inhibiting a vibrant system of private colleges and universities. (Applause.)

Now, I realize that that particular defense of the public option is not as forceful as some progressives would like. I also realize that some will claim that any perceived "toughness" in the health speech as a whole was merely a response to pressure from the left, that it doesn't represent Obama's true beliefs, and that he will "sell us out" at the first opportunity.

I suppose that's one way of looking at it. But I guess I prefer the take articulated by Balloon Juice's Anne Laurie:

As for last night’s speech, it should always be remembered: President Obama started his career as a community organizer. Which means he is used to (and most excellently skilled at) running an organization by “working for consensus”, a set of skills quite different from the ones needed for running the more usual top-down business/military/GOP organizations. In an authoritarian organization, for better or worse, at the end of the day what the Big Kahuna says goes is what goes. Even if he’s the best, most open-minded Big Kahuna in the universe, heading up a team of uniquely gifted & prickly talents -- he can ask for input, he can get input he hasn’t asked for, but when hammer meets nail it’s the Big Kahuna’s hammer that gets to choose the nail. And the other members of the team are always aware of this reality; barring things get so bad that grenades get rolled into the colonel’s tent, no private in the army forgets for long that the colonel is the one setting the agenda.

In a consensus-driven organization, on the other hand, everybody must have a chance to give an opinion... even when their opinion is stupid, crazy, laughable, and wrong. Being a successful community organizer means knowing that the local Mr. Tinfoil or Ms. Crystal-Bunny will show up at every goddamned meeting and waste everybody else’s time ranting about black helicopters or the necessity for regular high colonics. A large part of the job of being a successful community organizer is ensuring that the resident nutball gets a respectful hearing without being permitted to permanently derail the meeting. Because, sad as it may seem, the rest of us skittish flaky primates want to know (even when we don’t articulate it) that “our guy” will take our ideas seriously, even when we’re not sure our ideas are worth taking seriously. When Obama stands up before Congress and explains that his health care reform proposals will involve neither death panels or government-paid abortions (unfortunately, IMO), he is reassuring the 80% of his audience who have no strong feelings about either topic that he will, at another time, be open to their opinions, however formless and/or gormless. This is important, even when it means that the meetings keep running into overtime and that us sane people have to listen to an awful lot of extremely random crap.

After eight years of the Cheney Regency’s “My way or the Gitmo highway” authoritarianism, anything less forceful than sloganeering and explicit threats seems like pretty weak sauce to those of us who’ve been paying attention. The question, of course, is whether President Obama’s target audience -- the vast quivering voting-eligible majority that isn’t ideologically wed to either Invisible-Hand-of-the-Marketplace-Uber-Alles or Medicare-for-All-Americans-Immediately -- considers his speech, and his administration’s work over the next few weeks and months, as sensible compromise or timid obfuscation. Perhaps we’d get better proposals and a more useful final bill if President Obama would channel his Inner Authoritarian a little more, but his gift for seeking consensus seems to be why Obama is President and certain other people are not. Maybe all the histronics are simply a necessary part of the process of committing democracy.

Yes. Or even part of the process of "rehabilitating the idea of government" (to borrow an eloquent phrase from ObWi blogger Publius).

My main hope is that the speech will do what speeches are supposed to do: galvanize and energize (in a much broader and more intense way than is currently the case) those who are actually interested in real change for the health insurance system. What seems to have been missing until now is something along the lines of the level of organizing that obtained during the election itself. That is where true reform is going to come from.

Which reminds me: I have some phone calls to make.

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Speaking of "galvanizing": gadzooks! 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. Thank you!

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.

Try the outrage du jour: it's bitter, and it's cheap

Read it and weep. Here's the crux of Obama's Hitler-youth-on-opposite-day speech, to be delivered today:

I’ve talked about your teachers’ responsibility for inspiring you, and pushing you to learn.

I’ve talked about your parents’ responsibility for making sure you stay on track, and get your homework done, and don’t spend every waking hour in front of the TV or with that Xbox.

I’ve talked a lot about your government’s responsibility for setting high standards, supporting teachers and principals, and turning around schools that aren’t working where students aren’t getting the opportunities they deserve.

But at the end of the day, we can have the most dedicated teachers, the most supportive parents, and the best schools in the world – and none of it will matter unless all of you fulfill your responsibilities. Unless you show up to those schools; pay attention to those teachers; listen to your parents, grandparents and other adults; and put in the hard work it takes to succeed.

Scary stuff, I know.

You can, if you like, count the number of "I's" in this excerpt, or in the speech as a whole. You can also count the number of "G's," or the number of "X's," or the number of periods. (Which reminds me: I wonder if the ass who came up with this exegetical method would have preferred that the president describe his experiences and observations in the third person.)

Or, you can just fucking read it, sounding out the letters to see what words they make, and then assembling the words into expressed thoughts called sentences. If you approach it that way, you may discover that the speech isn't about Obama at all. A summary of its content might go as follows: the onus for the future well-being of the United States rests squarely on the shoulders of current students. (A tall order, I suppose, but that's another discussion.)

Maybe you're the sort of Obamaphobe who has recognized that the speech itself is benign, and so have begun to critique its "subtext." The funny thing about this little pivot, as anyone who has ever engaged in literary analysis knows, is that "subtext" is often code for "any damned bullshit thing you want to read into a statement that is otherwise as plain as the nose on your face." You know: kind like what you've done with art analysis.

Or perhaps you're an Obamaphobic parent, and have decided to keep your kid home from school today. In which case, I feel compelled to say: if you're really concerned that this man is going to "indoctrinate" your progeny with a single speech -- even if the speech were partisan, which it's not -- then you'd better start drinking now. Because unless you plan on locking little Bobby or Susie in the basement for the rest of their lives, you've got much much bigger problems in store.

[Photo credit: dregsplod]

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Wowee zowee, did you know that the Industrial Jazz Group is currently going cuckoo with our fall fundraiser, in support of our October tour? You can find out more, and contribute to the cause (for as little as $1!), here. Thanks much!

Listening, Party for Ninety-Six

Ah, jeez. Today is the first day of school. But lately I've been doing nothing but tour prep. And, looking forward, I see nothing but tour prep on the horizon.

Looks like I'll be winging it in class -- again! Hooray.

Here's my stopgap: until I can get into a true lesson-plan mindset, I'm gonna host a listening party for all 96 kids in my school. You know: play them some cool shit, let them respond, and then try to start a conversation about it.

(Kind of inspired by this.)

Anyway, to that end, here's the mix CD I just made:

1. “New Me” – Acoustic Ladyland (from Skinny Grin)

2. “Indoda Yejazi Elimnyama” -- Amaswazi Emvelo (from The Indestructible Beat of Soweto)

3. “Sardegna Amore (New Is Full Of Lonely People)” – Lester Bowie (w/ Arthur Blythe, Malachi Favors, Amina Claudine Myers, Phillip Watson) (from The 5th Power)

4. “Fem (Etude no. 8)” – The Bad Plus (from For All I Care)

5. “Radomirsko Horo” – Balkan Brass Band (from Balkan Brass Band)

6. “Casey Jones” – Billy Murray

7. “Ahulili” – Bonsai Garden Orchestra (from Take One)

8. “You Got it Made” – Buddy Johnson and his Orchestra (from Rock n Roll)

9. “Parchman Farm Blues” – Bukka White (from High Fever Blues)

10. “Okwukwe Na Nchekwube” - Celestine Ukwu & His Philosophers National (from Nigeria Special)

11. “There’s a Higher Power” – Charlie Louvin (from Steps to Heaven)

12. “Red Cross” – Charlie Parker

13. “Mardi Gras Waltz” – Clark Terry (from Top and Bottom Brass)

14. “Fresh Born” – Deerhoof (from Offend Maggie)

15. “Stillness is the Move” – Dirty Projectors (from Bitte Orca)

16. “Like Life” – Django Bates (from Like Life)

17. “Ntsikana's Bell” – Dollar Brand (from Good News from Africa)

18. “Hard Times Come Again No More” – Edison Male Quartet

19. “The Cell” – Erykah Badu (from New Amerykah)

20. “Cape Fear” –Fantomas–Melvins Big Band (from Millenium Monsterwork)

21. “Cattle Call” – LeAnn Rimes / Eddy Arnold (from Blue)

Hope you think no less of me because of this approach.

[Photo credit: OliBac]

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By the way, did you know that the Industrial Jazz Group is currently going berserk with our fall fundraiser, in support of our October tour? You can find out more, and contribute to the cause (for as little as $1!), here. Thank you!

Raise your hands in the air...

...or not.



Just came across this memento from our last SoCal tour (April 2009). It was discovered backstage at the beautiful Dore theater in Bakersfield.

It is, essentially, a guide for audience behavior, and it appeared on the back of a program for a Middle School concert (which took place at the same theater a few weeks before we were there). You can click the image for the full text, but briefly, here are some of the highlights:

A peaceful environment is necessary for the enjoyment of concert performances. [...]

Arrive on time and stay until the concert is over. [...]

Clapping is the only way to show appreciation to the musicians, not whistling or shouting.

Applaud only after the end of the piece, not between movements. If you are uncertain, be the second one to applaud. [...]

Please do not use flash photography during the performance, as it is a distraction to the musicians who are performing.

(Whoops -- that last one sounds familiar.)

I came close to incorporating this into my onstage patter for the Bakersfield show, but then thought better of it.

Context is important. Believe me: as a music teacher myself I totally get how a middle school audience would need an extra dose of "polite" in order to make it through a concert by a band of their peers.

But on my grumpier days, I tend to think that precepts like this are actually teaching kids something else altogether about what it means to be an audience. Here is my "translation":

There is an impenetrable wall (or at least a pretty sturdy museum-case glass) between an audience and the music it listens to. "The performer" is to "the audience" as "us" is to "them."

Music is much less about the body than it is about the mind.

Musicians are fragile. Catch them on the wrong night, and a few random lights can fuck everything up.

Music itself is fragile, like a hothouse flower.

Okay, so I'm exaggerating a little. Clearly some performances benefit from utter silence and propriety. And (despite my various anti-social proclivities) I'd never advocate for outright disrespect by an audience.

But I happen to think that whistling and shouting are not necessarily (or even usually) disrespectful in the context of a performance. And given the choice between respect-shown-through-audience-politeness, and respect-shown-through-actually-paying-musicians-for-their-work, I'd choose the latter, thank you very much. (I would also be willing to bet that the former variety of respect is much more commonly enforced, and assumed to be "good enough.")

In any case, the deeper issue here is whether music of any genre can truly grow, evolve, or thrive when it is being treated with kid gloves. This problem, of course, pertains to creativity and play in general -- if it's not at least a little messy, it's not likely to be very good.

(One more thought: I actually perform better when people are taking pics. I think of it as an inexpensive laser show.)

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By the way, did you know that the Industrial Jazz Group is currently going full speed ahead with our fall fundraiser, in support of our October tour? You can find out more, and contribute to the cause, here. Thank you!

This is not another post on Terry Teachout

Really, it's not! I'm sure he's a nice guy and all (go ahead and follow him on twitter, and get frequent updates about his vacation with "Mrs. T"). But sweet jebus am I ever tired of hearing about this man and his infamous article. (I'm not even going to link it. You know the one I mean.)

Sorry to lead off with a rant. I mean no offense, really. I've enjoyed following the various smack-downs (and smack-ups), and have even posted a comment here and there myself. It's just that, at this point, for me anyway, it feels counterproductive to spend any more energy on the "death of jazz" musings of a single drama critic writing for a right-wing newspaper.

Like "Ken Burns," "Terry Teachout" seems to be an incredibly stubborn flashpoint. Why can't we just strike that essay from the record? Ignore it, going forward? (Didn't mother always say that was the best way to make a mean kid go away?)

Even if I did feel compelled to mount a full-on objection (at this late date), I wouldn't know who to address my complaints to.

Teachout himself? (As if he would give a shit! What -- is he going to print a retraction?)

Other jazz musicians? (Who among us would disagree that there were flaws in the assessment presented in the article?)

The people outside of the jazz community -- in my view, the very people needed to "save jazz"? (Well, maybe it would be worth it to address that group. But I think I'd rather make the case that jazz has a viable future by trying to create some viable, future-leaning jazz.)

Instead of continuing to reference the Teachout article, I agree with DJA: it's time to start pondering (in a much more proactive way) how jazz (in particular) is going to make the transition to a new economy of music. Because that transition is not going to be easy or obvious. There are bound to be some false starts. (Really: we're making it up as we go. Do you know exactly how it's going to happen?)

Consider the curious case of Nextbop, a freshly-minted Canadian jazz website that seems hell-bent on getting the word out about younger jazz musicians, and is geared, presumably, toward younger audiences. (Why "hell-bent"? $5000 to start a website -- that's dedication!)

Nextbop seems to have a very specific flavor of new jazz in mind (the well-dressed, high-class, and, um, male flavor, I guess). Of course, the site proprietors are entitled to their taste -- and anyway their selection of artists may be a function of exactly which ones have given the legal "go-ahead" (more on that in a second). In any case, even from my perspective well outside of the sub-genre of jazz that the Nextboppers are attempting to represent, a site like this appears to be manna from the heavens. Just the sort of thing that the Terry Teachout article (which I promise I won't mention ever again) seemed to decry the absence of.

And yet, as Peter Hum notes, these guys are actually getting grief for the love they are trying to show. From the site's blog:

I’m going to be brutally honest in saying that the results have been extremely disappointing. First of all, we’ve received very little recognition from the artists we are trying to promote. Most never answered our e-mails, we received very few words of encouragement and one even went as far as to tell us that we had no right to take the bio and the pictures from his website. I don’t think they realize that we took two years of our time to create a website with the sole purpose of promoting them and their music. On top of that, we’re full-time University students (one in Finance and one in Asian studies, if you’re curious) who not only have no money, but who had to borrow some to make this project possible.

We’ve also had a ton of problems with record labels. Being the good law-abiding citizen that I am, I felt it was important for us to obtain the permission from records labels to stream their music on our website. Most of them haven’t answered our e-mails or returned our phone calls, but I was completely stunned when some of them started refusing. We aren’t even allowed to stream songs which are featured on the artists’ MySpace pages! How are we supposed to promote jazz artists and to create a new audience for jazz if people cannot listen to the music?

We’re trying to help the record labels and the artists and not only are we not being paid for this, but it also uses up most of our free time. [...] I’m starting to believe that jazz doesn’t want to be saved. Jazz is barely surviving and it is content with the way things are. Jazz is a music made by jazzmen for jazzmen and this is why the audience is dwindling.

[...]

Jazz needs to change its image. People don’t realize that the music has evolved since Louis Armstrong and Miles Davis. Jazz is thought to be either old and corny or complicated and intellectual. That’s one of the things we’re trying to achieve with Nextbop. We want to show that all these preconceptions are wrong. We want to show people that anyone can find something they like in today’s jazz music as long as they are a little open-minded.

So unless I'm missing something, here's the summary. In response to you-know-who, we in the jazz community (not a monolith, but still) say we are in fact all about the kids. And yet when some young whippersnappers want to use modern tools to bring this music to a modern audience, they run into some very real resistance.

What gives?

[Photo credit: JOE M500]

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By the way, did you know that we are currently going all out with our fall fundraiser, in order to support our October tour? You can find out more, and contribute to the cause, here. Thank you!

Put Another Nickel In

The Oh-So-Polite Beg-a-Thon

As you may have heard, the Industrial Jazz Group is touring the east coast in October! Hoo-boy, we can hardly wait.

Of course, a journey like this (ten shows in as many days, all occurring many miles from our natural habitat) is hella-expensive. One might even say ridiculously, brain-crushingly expensive. Airfare, hotel lodging, musician fees, catering, pyrotechnics, personal trainers, wardrobe, masseuses, pet sitters, limousine service, extra TVs for the ones we plan to throw out of hotel windows, extra cars for the ones we plan to drive into hotel swimming pools -- damn, it all adds up!

(Okay, so I was just kidding about the last few items, there, but still -- damn, it all adds up!)

Consider: Airfare for 11 people, which will cost somewhere in the neighborhood of $3300. Artist fees for 15 people for 10 days, which should be somewhere in the neighborhood of $15,000 at least. Transportation for the tour, which will cost somewhere in the neighborhood of $5000. Add it up and pretty soon you're talking about real money!

You may have heard scuttlebutt here and there about the impending collapse of the music business, and of the jazz music business in particular. And while those rumors may or may not be true (we think they’re not!), and while there may or may not be an entirely new economy of music on the rise (we think there is!), we are realistic enough to recognize that we’re never going to sell more records than, say, the Jonas Brothers. (I know, four years ago we were making this joke about Christina Aguilera. Hey -- times change, but our humor is consistent!)

In any case, while we can keep this band going without ever being as big as the Jonas Brothers, we can’t keep it going without you. That truism has never been truer than now, as we’re about to launch the mother of all impossible independent tours. And so, in all seriousness and humility, we’re turning to you, dear IJG fans, to help us make the whole thing a little less, uh, painful, financially.

To wit: like many before us (and like ourselves in a simpler time), we have created a full-fledged fundraiser, where you can get stuff (some of it rather ridiculous, I know) and contribute on one of multiple levels, should you so desire.

All contributions are, of course, tax-deductible. And incidentally, if you find the listed gifts a little silly (can't say we blame you if that's the case), or if you find the listed amounts not to your liking, but you still want to contribute, that's totally cool! We'd be grateful for anything you are willing to give. If you want to pass on the gifts, just let us know.

Please note too that there is a PayPal button at the top and bottom of the fundraiser details list (below). To contribute, click either button, enter the desired amount, and you're good to go. (You need not have a PayPal account to contribute.)

And please accept our undying gratitude in advance!

Industrial Jazz Group 2009 Fundraiser

==> Donate $1, and get an IJG-themed postcard, with a short handwritten “thank you” message from Durkin.

==> Donate $5, and get a fun pack of 3 IJG bumper stickers.

==> Donate $7, and get a high five from the whole band the next time you see us in concert.

==> Donate $10, and get a copy of the new CD when it comes out in 2010.

==> Donate $15, and get a copy of the new CD, plus a shout-out from the stage during our next concert (e.g., “Thanks to the great Joe Blow for helping us get here!”).

==> Donate $17.50, and get a copy of the new CD, plus a batch of homemade maple bacon cookies baked by Jill Knapp.

==> Donate $20, and get a copy of the new CD, plus a photo with the whole group the next time you see us in concert.

==> Donate $25, and get a copy of the new CD, plus a batch of the best chocolate chip cookies you will ever eat in your life made just for you by Butler On Demand.

==> Donate $30, and get the new CD, the high five, the shout-out, the photo, plus an IJG T-Shirt of your choosing.

==> Donate $50, and get the new CD, the high five, the shout-out, the photo, the IJG T-Shirt of your choosing, plus a bit part in our next music video. (You have seen our music videos, haven’t you?)

==> Donate $75, and get the new CD, the high five, the shout-out, the photo, the IJG T-Shirt of your choosing, the bit part, plus a custom-made hula hoop created by Tailspin Hoops.

==> Donate $100, and get the new CD, the high five, the shout-out, the photo, the IJG T-Shirt of your choosing, the bit part, plus a personal “thank you” message included in the liner notes of the album. (E.g., “Thanks for helping us finance our last tour, Joe Blow! You rock!”)

==> Donate $150, and get the new CD, the high five, the shout-out, the photo, the IJG T-Shirt of your choosing, the bit part, the personal liner note “thank you,” plus a custom two-minute poem written and performed by IJG trombonist Mike Richardson, on a subject of your choice. Mike will call you and recite this poem, which will be dedicated to you, and published on the band website.

==> Donate $200, and get the new CD, the high five, the shout-out, the photo, the IJG T-Shirt of your choosing, the bit part, the personal liner note “thank you,” plus a 30-second musical answering machine message, with music by Durkin, and performed by the IJG singer of your choice. You provide the text of the message (”Hi, this is Joe Blow, I’m not home right now,” etc.), we will provide you with a recording of the piece, which you can then use for whatever you like.

==> Donate $350, and get the new CD, the high five, the shout-out, the photo, the bit part, the personal liner note “thank you,” plus a gift pack of 10 custom T-shirts, featuring Industrial Jazz Group song titles of your choosing, with colors of your choosing (as long as they’re in stock).

==> Donate $400, and get a the new CD, the high five, the shout-out, the photo, the bit part, the personal liner note “thank you,” plus a signed print of one of Jill Knapp’s infamous “Hello Chicken,” “Hello Ninja,” or “Hello Bacon” paintings.

==> Donate $500, and get the new CD, the high five, the shout-out, the photo, the bit part, the personal liner note “thank you,” plus a customized, hand-made, signed, single page expression of gratitude from every musician who appears on the album (all 16 of them!). Each bandmembers’ page will consist of text, a drawing, a painting, or some other visually-communicated personal message expressing two ideas: 1. How grateful we are for your support, and 2. How incredibly awesome you are.

==> Donate $600, and get the new CD, the high five, the shout-out, the photo, the bit part, the personal liner note “thank you,” plus an original painting by artist Douglass Truth, based on a mutually agreed-upon IJG song title. The painting will be on 24″ x 18″ canvas, and will be completed by the end of the year. (Dig some of Douglass’s work here.)

==> Donate $1000, and get the new CD, the high five, the shout-out, the photo, the bit part, the personal liner note “thank you,” plus a recording of a two-minute original Durkin piece (instrumental or vocal), written for you, with a title and subject of your choosing, and featuring four members of the group. (Note: this option, and the other song options, are good for things like birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, etc.)

==> Donate $1250, and get the new CD, the high five, the shout-out, the photo, the bit part, the personal liner note “thank you,” plus a recording of a four-minute original Durkin piece (instrumental or vocal), written for you, with a title and subject of your choosing, featuring six members of the group.

==> Donate $1500, and get the new CD, the high five, the shout-out, the photo, the bit part, the personal liner note “thank you,” plus IJG bassist Oliver Newell will come to your next party and dance. Fine print: this offer is contingent upon Oliver’s schedule. “Party” is defined as an event lasting no more than 5 hours. Oliver will determine how much of that will actually be spent dancing – but if the music is good it will probably end up being a long time. If outside of the LA area, you must also provide Oliver with a plane ticket and place to stay for the night.

==> Donate $2000, and get the new CD, the high five, the shout-out, the photo, the bit part, the personal liner note “thank you,” plus dinner at Applebee’s with the entire band, in Los Angeles, during our next SoCal tour (Spring, 2010). What you do after dinner at Applebee’s is entirely up to you.

==> Donate $5000, and get the new CD, the high five, the shout-out, the photo, the bit part, the personal liner note “thank you,” plus a three minute, bethonged dance from Mike Richardson, accompanied by a plaintive version of Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar on Me,” played by one IJG member of your choosing. Fine print: this offer is contingent upon Mike’s schedule, and the schedule of his accompanist. “Bethonged dance” is defined as a personal dance meant to entertain, but without any physical contact. If outside of the LA area, you must also provide Mike and his accompanist with a plane ticket and a place to stay for the night.

==> Donate $50,000, and get a copy of the new CD, the high five, the shout-out, the photo, the bit part, the personal liner note “thank you,” plus my Volvo Station Wagon, a historic vehicle which was used in seven IJG tours on the west coast (and which still displays some of the wear and tear from same).

Letting it all hang out

As a composer and cultural gad-about who jumped early and fully into the craziness of the online world, I sometimes wonder if I'm giving too much away with what I do here.

Isn't that the great trade-off of blogging and social media? Hooray: I'm sharing my personal thoughts and experiences with a pretty big audience! Yes, but, you know... I'm sharing my personal thoughts and experiences with a pretty big audience.

Which is not to say that I feel like I've lost my privacy altogether. But I do think I put a lot more of myself out there than my basically introverted nature seems to require. I mean, I used to keep a personal journal, and I don't really do that anymore. I do continue to carry around notebooks, but they are full of fragments and sketches, rendered in the shortest shorthand I can muster. Still, in the end, for better or worse, this blog (and my social media presence in general) has become the new testing ground for most of my latest ideas and observations.

I get the point about how a significant portion of what's out there on the internets is "pointless babble" and "narcissism." Note that pointless babble and narcissism totally make sense in the context of a personal journal -- sometimes you have to slog through (or purge!) what the Zen monks called "roof-brain chatter" to get to anything of substance. But in public? Unseemly! I can only imagine what the great Neil Postman would have to say about Twitter.

Of course, I can't remember ever feeling this paranoid about the way things are going:



I actually really want to see this now, cuz it looks like a good comedy. (Sorry: it's hard for me not to laugh at any film whose trailer includes the line "But he took it too far." (Dun-dun!))

Actually, the movie feels like a trap: showing us what a culture of compulsory voyeurism/exhibitionism does for the human species, and simultaneously implicating us in that process (because as the audience, we're the voyeurs -- get it?).

I dunno: I realize we're living in a new era, but it will take a lot to convince me we are living in a true Panopticon culture of compulsory voyeurism/exhibitionism. To me, it feels less compulsory than compulsive.

And besides: jazz! Perhaps one reason I've adapted to this new landscape so readily is that it resembles the dynamic of improvisatory music (and the sort of music that I do, which is heavily informed by improvisation, whether it explicitly includes it or not).

What is a jazz soloist doing if not publicly presenting a work-in-progress (the fruits of an ongoing routine of practice, study, imagination, listening)? Like a social media junkie, sometimes a jazz musician shares too much, or too soon. ("Hey, I discovered this cool figure while practicing earlier today -- let's see if it works in this tune. Whoops, never mind!")

Even the best bloggers and twitter-devotees let through the occasional typo, awkward turn of phrase, or incompletely-considered idea. (That there is one reason somebody is always "wrong on the internet.") And even the best improvisers and composers-who-think-like-improvisers let through the occasional clam, or hackneyed theme, or bad transition. In both cases, the dedicated ones go back to the drawing board, edit, and try again -- and that persistence (and its subsequent payoff) is part of what makes them great.

Process over product, baby. No?

[Photo credit: Hyku]

Posts a-plenty

Music and video, recently, at the other blog:

"Bounce"

"The Job Song" (navel-gazing version)

"The Pickings Were Slim"

Shaving, part 3 (not porn, but dada)

"Every Day I Have the Blues, Too"

So much!

Watts Ensemble

What follows is an email interview with Brian Watson, founder of / composer for the Watts Ensemble.

Never heard of them? How's this? (The tune is called "Funny Cigarettes.")

Based in LA, and supposedly created on a dare, Watts is an impossible, outlandish creature after my own heart, a kindred spirit if ever I met one. The group recently released their first album, Two Suites for Crime & Time.

N.B.: I recommend reading the Chris Ziegler interview over at L.A. Record before reading this one.

* * * * *

Durkin: First of all, to reiterate -- I really dig the record, and thank you so much for laying it on me. I find it a pretty remarkable document for 2009. In some ways, it's very retro (to my ear, it could be a backbeat-ified version of a lost Alex North or Leonard Rosenman soundtrack), but in some ways it's pretty "progressive," at least in the sense that it's quite unique in the musical landscape right now.

BW: Thank you! That means a lot to me coming from you. That's exactly what I was going for. I've always believed that it's important to look back at the history of music and to dig as deep as you can to fully appreciate where we are now. John Coltrane has a quote that really resonates with me; “I’ve found you’ve got to look back at the old things and see them in a new light.” I couldn't encapsulate my musical philosophy any better. For me, there's nothing more uninspired than a group who recreates something from an older era to the tee. It feels like a novelty act, or like nostalgic fetishism. Conversely, I find it underwhelming when I see a band that's only influenced by modern music.

Durkin: Since Los Angeles played such a crucial role in my own development as a composer, I have to say: there's an eerie LA-esque sound to this, maybe the sort of thing that you can only appreciate if you've lived in that town for a while. So I'm curious: are you a native Angeleno? And does the record sound like LA to you? And what's with the name of the group -- is it a play on your last name? Or a reference to Watts?

BW: Yeah I'm basically an Angeleno. I've lived within 50 miles of LA my entire life. I've never really thought of the music sounding particularly LA-esque, but now that you mention it, I suppose that living in this city has had an impact on my musical language. There are certainly many phrases and parts on the album that I had written in my head while slugging my way through LA traffic or walking around my neighborhood.

As for the name, when I first thought of it, it was supposed to have two purposes. One was that I would have part of my name in the group without it being "The Brian Watson Super Orchestra Concert Band." The second part was, I thought it was kinda funny to call it "Watts" since we were (at least in the beginning) an all acoustic group. I didn't realize that my last name was actually in the name of the group until I heard it out loud. At that point it was kinda like "ha, oh well."

Durkin: I totally missed the "watt" angle -- that's hilarious! And actually, I kind of like the name "The Brian Watson Super Orchestra Concert Band," because it's so absurd. But no one would be able to remember that, I guess.

And now I need to interrupt this interview in order to insert an album cover featuring another great LA musician, standing in the Watts I thought you might have been referencing:




Anyway. One bit I loved in the Ziegler piece was when your friend Brad said "Man, it’s a beautiful record but you can tell you don’t know anything about jazz harmony—but beautiful record!" I love that. I'm curious, though, did you give it to him with the expectation that he would hear it as a jazz record? I definitely hear jazz inflections in it, especially that cinematic "crime jazz" sound. But do you consider what you do to be "jazz"?

BW: What's funny about a lot of the music on the "Suite for Crime" is it's mostly influenced by the likes of Stravinsky, who was himself influenced by jazz music. So the piece is really only jazz by proxy! Brad is a very sharp, very well rounded musician, he's one of those guys that can basically play anything on any instrument and do it super well. So I gave the record to him hoping that he would dig it, especially given the fact that he knows what he's talking about. I wasn't sure if he would hear it as straight jazz or not, but I'm just glad he thought it was a good piece of work.

As far as what I consider the music to be, it certainly has a lot of jazz influence, but it has just as much classical, and just as much rock and roll influence as well. I could point out specific parts where I was thinking of Hindemith, Philip Glass, Rocket from the Crypt, Devo, hell, I even rip off a Deep Purple riff in there! So I wouldn't call it just jazz. There's definitely more going on.



Durkin: Along those same lines, I'm fascinated by your openly-stated lack of formal training, and I'd love to know more about the path that led you to start your group, given that background. It reminds me of a favorite story about the writer William Faulkner, who, when he was asked to give a professional talk at a college writing program, advised all the students to drop out (who knows, maybe he was drunk).

Like you, I lack the proverbial music degree, and am without formal training in composition. But so were most of my musical heroes -- particularly Zappa, who never hid the fact that his career path was non-institutional. He listened to records, he read books, he worked hard and went through a lot of trial and error. But in a sense, for better or worse, his primary teacher was his ear.

BW: Yeah, since I have such little training, I really only have my ear to trust. I'll play a chord and look at it spatially and I'll guess what it's going to sound like (sometimes I'm right, sometimes I'm wrong!), yet I have no idea what kind of chord it is. I could sit there and count the intervals and figure it out, but initially, it's all instinct.

In regards to the path that led me to start the group, I suppose it was time for me to branch out. I had been playing in rock and roll bands since I was about 14, and I think I had just exhausted all of my ideas. I did the Dead Kennedys style group, I did the Mummies style group, I did the Stooges style one, I did the Karp style one. So I began listening to classical music and when I first heard "Rite of Spring" it was just as exciting as it was the first time I heard the Stooges "Raw Power."

I did basically what Zappa did, I listened to a ton of music. I would go to the Brand Library every week and get the maximum 15 classical cds and listen to them intently and I made sure to make playlists of the pieces I want to emulate. I read Rimsky-Korsakov, Hindemith, Schoenberg, and some of it made sense, and a lot of it didn't. I bought a keyboard and some sample libraries and started messing around with it, and eventually I would write something that I liked. Once I had written about 5 pieces I thought, "Well shit, maybe I should try to find some people to play this stuff!" And luckily, I did.

Durkin: The Brand Library! People who don't live in LA might not get the reference, but that place (in Glendale, CA) has a truly amazing music collection. I visited there often (and accumulated many fines!) when I lived in LA. It was perfect for the starving artist trying to stay on top of all the music that comes out in a given year.

BW: The Brand is an amazing place. I wouldn't be doing what I'm doing without it for sure.

Durkin: How else do you find music? It seems like you tap into the network provided by your band, that there's a lot of word-of-mouth that might point you in a specific direction. Do you also rely on blogs, or music magazines, or other media?

BW: I don't really indulge in [other media], other than people sending me random youtube videos (just saw a P.P. Arnold one). Most the time I'll hear a record or an artist either from somebody in Watts or from somebody in the other group I play in, Jail Weddings (which the aforementioned Brad is in), since both those groups have a collective 25 people with varying musical backgrounds.

However, I still find that the biggest thrill for me is to see a band that I've never heard of and have no preconceived notions of and absolutely loving them. It reminds me of being young and hearing things for the first time, and it reminds me why I love music so much. That sort of thing usually happens when you least expect it. Unfortunately, it doesn't happen often, but when it does, it's fucking magical.



Durkin: Back to the educational question for a moment. I bring it up because in the jazz and new music worlds, it is pretty unusual these days to come across people without formal musical training. I don't at all want to imply that it is necessarily "better" to be trained or to not to be trained -- there are risks and benefits that come with each, and a lot depends upon the personality of the individual involved. But I'm curious: what do you think is the value, if any, of being unschooled in compositional techniques? Do you regret your lack of formal training? Do you think your music would be different without it?

BW: When we were recording at CalArts, I made a comment that I wished that I had gone to school there when I was younger, and the pianist, Philip, who was a student there said "Yeah, but then your music would probably sound completely different." And the more I thought about it, the more I tend to agree with him. I think for me personally, not going to school was beneficial, it's certainly not for everyone. I do much better by simply diving in and getting my hands dirty, and yes, making mistakes, lots and lots of mistakes. I've learned the hard way that you can't have a bari sax play eighth note triplets at 180 bpm or have a trumpet jump octaves back and forth. And hey, did you know that you won't be able to hear a bassoon over an entire sax and brass section going full blast fortissimo? Now I do!

There's certainly two sides to the coin. On one hand, I don't know what's considered "wrong" which can be good or bad. I've certainly heard that I've voiced things wrong, and I've written odd looking charts more than a couple of times. Then again, they used to say that parallel fifths were wrong and that's a power chord which is the basis of all rock and roll, so those old time baroque guys where full of it!

One of the downsides to having no formal training is I'm not able to deconstruct things the way that others can. Sonic Youth wasn't simply making a bunch of noise. They were knowledgeable enough to take something as simple as a 3 chord riff and make it sound completely unique. Yet, I'll see drummers who are self taught, and what they lack in coordination they make up for in innovation. I've heard some of the most interesting yet simple drumbeats come out of self taught drummers and it's all because nobody was there to say "don't play that because it's weird." So I suppose not knowing what you're doing is both a blessing and a curse.

That being said, I've learned a lot from everyone in the group. My musical knowledge now versus when I started the ensemble is probably 1000 times more informed. When you think about it, I have 14 theory teachers coming to my house every Monday night. Whenever I present an idea to them, I always ask for their input and many times they'll enlighten me to something I wasn't aware of. I love the fact that I get to basically go to school by writing and performing with these amazing musicians as opposed to sitting in a classroom. It's the only way I think I'd be able to do this.

Durkin: Are there examples of things that you tried, not knowing whether you would like them or not, and that ended up working, but that you later learned were "against the rules"?

BW: The first track on the album, "Good Morning" (hear it here), was written in one sitting one morning. I woke up, rolled out of bed and just heard this pulsing eighth note. It worked out because my right hand was just hitting the high E over and over, and since I can't really play piano with both hands playing two complex rythms, I was able to do the whole thing. After I recorded it I said, "ah what a piece of garbage," but I never throw anything away and put it in my "Retired" folder. Months later I was digging through there, heard it and thought, "What the fuck was I thinking?!" And now it's one of my favorite pieces.

As far as doing things "wrong" I know that I write a lot of unison / doubled parts for the entire group, which isn't necessarily wrong, but I think I employ it more than usual. Then again, that's because I wanted the band to have a rock & roll feel to it, I wanted it to be as loud and focused as a "power trio," hence the areas where everyone is essentially playing a power chord. There's not a whole lot of melody in the pieces either, it's a lot of texture, but that's what I've always been attracted to. Don't get me wrong, melody is great. However, it can sometimes be annoying when you get a nice melody stuck in your head and it won't go away. That's how I'll justify the lack of melody in my compositions. Thank you very much.

Durkin: Another thing that I thought was remarkable about the way you approach this project -- particularly given the size of the group -- is the humility you bring to it. We hear so many stories of artists who are so self-assured in their "vision" that they feel justified enacting a sort of "my way or the highway" approach. Not that that never works. But you seem to strike a nice balance: your lack of training may put you in a position where you depend upon a certain amount of band-generated goodwill for the project to succeed, and you're open to that -- but at the same time, you clearly have a vision for what you want to do. Does that sound right? And have you ever been tempted to be more of an asshole?

BW: You know, Buddy Rich has influenced me in two ways. One, he's a fucking amazing drummer. Two, he was a monumental asshole. Have you ever heard that tape of him yelling at his band after a gig?

It's ridiculous. That is the antithesis of how I want to lead a band.

But yes, you're right, since I'm relatively new to this, it doesn't behoove me to make up for my lack of training with some sense of faux confidence and chutzpah. It's not really who I am, and it would just alienate the rest of the group. And besides, there really isn't a need for it since everyone in the group gets where I'm coming from and what I'm going for. I honestly can't say how lucky I feel to have so many talented people taking time out of their schedule to come and play music with me. It's insane when you think about it.

Durkin: Last question. You mentioned how beer is a part of Watts Ensemble rehearsals. How important is "fun" to what you do (for the band or the audience)?

BW: It's extremely important for rehearsals. I don't want it to feel like a high school class or some stuffy orchestra. Since there's no money involved it has to be fun, otherwise they wouldn't do it.

As for the audience, our live show really consists of us playing the compositions as is. I've thought about doing a visual show by incorporating a projector (in fact, we're writing and rehearsing a live score for DUEL which we'll play at the Silent Movie Theater in October, and may do other performances of it in other venues if all goes well). But generally speaking, I'm hoping that people have fun watching a band our size squeeze onto a stage and play the music I've written.

Dumb all over, a little ugly on the side

In which I discuss matters that have no bearing whatsoever on jazz. Except to the extent that jazz, I imagine, would suffer too if we end up having an all-out civil war in this country.

Wait, did I say "civil war"? I meant "debate over health care."

Anyway, you heard about this dude who brought his only special friend to a recent Obama protest, right?



And then you probably read or saw how he was just one out of many! And it's all legal and shit!

"I come from another state where 'open carry' is legal, but no one does it, so the police don't really know about it and they harass people, arrest people falsely," the man, who wasn't identified, said in an interview aired by CNN affiliate KNVX. "I think that people need to get out and do it more so that they get kind of conditioned to it."

I love how this guy was concerned about the dangers of being "harassed." His concern was particularly evident in the great care he took not to harass other people. Cuz nothing says "I'm not harassing you" like an assault weapon at a political protest.

I love too the invocation of revolutionary times (ya gotta check the video for that little gem). Cuz the founding fathers were all about arming their African-American friends. (Wait: they weren't? Double wait: they didn't have any African-American friends?!)

Tim F. at my beloved Balloon Juice has a spot-on take:

The sad part is that we do not even have to wait to see what happens next. Half a mile from my house a relatively ordinary freeper/stormfronter shot three policemen because he thought Obama would take his guns away.

All these guys need is one martyr to put on their t-shirts and name blogs after. Nobody needs to get shot, although they would love it if someone did. Their intense police state paranoia will be validated enough when a local cop confiscates some bubba’s precious AR-15. Rumors were enough to send several recent crazed shooters over the edge. How many more need just one aggrieved victim of guvmint overreach with a photo and a name?

The second funny thing is that I don’t think that any of these guys have any idea what to do when they have their little revolution. I suppose they hope to take power just by making America ungovernable by anyone else.

[...]

Honestly, I would pay good money to watch people who associate book learnin’ with the enemy try and fail to produce a modern-day Federalist Papers. If they do manage something it will be the first book ever written in all caps.

* * * * *

Do you remember that moment, back on the playground, however many years ago, when you were involved in the sort of well-meaning roughhousing that kids do, and suddenly there was this transition? Such that said roughhousing instantly morphed into a whole other kind of situation, one in which it became apparent that someone was really going to get hurt?

We're living through one of those moments right now, I do believe. Writ large and in very slow motion. (And I say that knowing full well my own proclivity for overcautiousness about such things. Though I'll repeat: one should never underestimate the power of a fringe, especially a fringe with laptops.)

The left cries "foul" (understandably) whenever Obama pulls back from some stated campaign goal, some longed-for move toward progressive change. We decry the urge toward bipartisanship as naive, Kumbaya-drenched nonsense. We pass around our little hoax posters. We argue that Bush, who we never agreed with, at least had the right strategy for getting shit done. It was (surprise!) a simple strategy: he just did it, and damn the consequences.

But it's more complicated than that, isn't it? Bush was a white president in a majority white country. He never faced the threat of armed insurrection. No one ever questioned his citizenship. No one ever accused him of being in cahoots with terrorists. He was compared with a chimp, it's true, but never a chimp shot dead by cops in the street. He could throw his political muscle around, even in the face of his own illegitimacy, because he had the weight of tradition on his side.

Which is not to say that no progressive ever longed, in a fit of rage, to punch Bush in the nose. But the idea of violence against that president was only ever raised in jest. And even then, it was immediately booed by progressives themselves. Instead, we chose to fight back with words. Of course, that didn't work out as well as we hoped, cuz Bush realized, in his oddly, perhaps accidentally postmodern way, that words were merely tools, and that you could say whatever you wanted, and it would be "true" if you repeated it enough and gave it an aura of gravitas. And in the end the worst physical threat he ever faced was a friggin' shoe, thrown (inaccurately) by someone from another country, after the target was already a lame duck. It's just not the same.

Which is also not to say that progressives should take the pressure off Obama whenever it appears he is giving up on an important principle (in fact, I suspect that he welcomes such pressure). Or that any of us should be intimidated into submission by the rabble-rousers -- that's exactly what they want. But even as we insist on follow-through, we have to see the administration's dance, such as it is, in a realistic context -- one that includes this bullying, ignant, violent, worst-of-the-60s-style survivalist bullshit.

[Photo credit: peterPIPERpickedTHEpeppers.]

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.

Bye Bye Blues

A few weeks ago I had to play a funeral (it's part of my "day gig"), and was struck when one of the featured speakers described that event as a "cause for celebration." Then I realized: the deceased had made it into her 90s, and seemingly lived her life exactly as she pleased. What was there not to celebrate? We should all be so lucky.

Can you blame me for feeling the same way about the passing of the great Les Paul? Sweet mother of pearl -- what a life this dude lived.

When it comes to the "great man theory of history," I'm skeptical. I believe instead that developments in the world of art, or science, or other areas of culture are generally incremental, with many people contributing small things toward a pattern of overall progress. Every once in a while some talented-but-lucky schmuck comes along at just the right moment (more or less accidentally) to reap the rewards of all that less-than-thrilling behind-the-scenes preparatory work.

Here's evidence of Les Paul's impact -- it almost made me wonder if my skepticism was misplaced.

I do play guitar, but I'm not a guitarist (if you catch my drift), so I don't want to discuss all the wonderful things Paul did for that instrument (except to say that as a composer I benefit from them too). I also don't want to get into Paul's musicianship here, though I consider it to be above reproach. I remember hearing him perform at Fat Tuesday's in NYC, back in the 90s, just as I was beginning my own long, slow, downward spiral into jazz. My friends and I had a great time at that show, and I was thrilled that I got to shake the man's hand -- but I think I sensed even then that his music was not for all tastes, not even among guitar players. In the years since, I came across many other admirers of his, and noticed that more than a few of them faulted him for being capable of some pretty "corny" music. But for me, even Paul at his poppiest (e.g., the Mary Ford stuff, which I confess I love) always walked a delicious line between pablum-for-the-masses, on the one hand, and some kind of weird avant-garde mutant shit, on the other.

No, really. It seems commonplace now, but it's fundamentally bizarre (in a good way) to be able to play along with yourself on a recording, or to create an ensemble piece with musicians you have never actually met. So just as people were getting over the unease-with-the-uncanny that accompanied the first half-century or so of recorded sound, Paul comes along and gives them a reason to fret again. Cuz if music is all about being "in the moment," what happens when you split that moment over multiple tracks? When music becomes asynchronous? With one fell swoop, Paul (and the zeitgeist he rode) opened up a new avenue of musical art, one that was -- hallelujah! -- anything but "authentic." (To paraphrase Frank Zappa -- himself a pioneer of multitracking and other studio techniques -- with studio recording you could suddenly do things that had no analogue in nature.)

Ironically (to the extent that Paul is considered a jazz musician), jazz has always had a complicated relationship with recording technology, and specifically with the advances that Paul wrought. Though some jazz musicians were keenly aware of the possibilities, and sought to use that information to the most musical ends possible (Ellington was apparently a real stickler about recording), the infamous original resistance of a Freddie Keppard (say) seemed to inform the broader view: if you play jazz, record it only because you have to. And when you have to, aim for a good representation of the "live event," but don't ever think that that representation is going to compete with "the real thing." Making albums, in other words, is just a byproduct of the fact that we're in the music business -- not a viable practice unto itself. And so the experiments of a Bill Evans or a Bob Ostertag remained just that: experiments.

And yet we jazz musicians live in the present, too, and are affected by technological advances that we may not see fit to embrace explicitly. I have always wondered, for instance, about the extent to which a tune like Mingus's "Moanin'" (from Blues & Roots) would have been possible without the concept of multitrack recording hanging around in the cultural background. On the liner notes to that album, Mingus writes that he wanted "to use a larger group to play in a big band form I'd like to hear that has as many lines going as there are musicians." Here's a live version:



Is this really that dissimilar to the dense tier-ing that characterized some of Paul's recordings (or his demonstrations of same)? Set up the basic skeleton of a form -- whether it's a blues or something else -- and then just layer the shit out of it. You know, because you can. It seems like a model plucked right out of the multitrack world, where the temptations to think vertically can be pretty strong -- those of you who have ever owned or futzed around with a four-track, or a DAW, or a copy of Garageband, probably know the temptations I'm talking about.

I dunno, maybe that's a stretch. Or maybe I'm just realizing that this "multitrack mindset" has a lot to do with how I write the music for my own big band -- which, incidentally, now feels more indebted to Les Paul than ever.

Anyway, RIP.