Lester Bowie (trumpet, fleugelhorn, bass drum, horns); Roscoe Mitchell (soprano sax, alto sax, bass sax, clarinet, flute, flute, cymbals, gongs, conga drums, logs, bells, siren, whistles, steel drum, etc); Joseph Jarman (soprano sax, alto sa, clarinet, oboe, flute, marimba, vibes, conga drums, bells, whistles, gongs, siren, guitar, etc); Malachi Favors (bass, fender bass, banjo, log drums, cythar, percussion, etc); Fontella Bass (vocals).
Ken Burns--that “innovative” documentary maker, famous for zooming in on, and panning across photographs--once made the belittling remark that the AACM (Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians) only really catered for “white college students--in France”. Granted there was a large market for avant-jazz related music in France in the 1960’s and 70’s; but what Ken failed to acknowledge when he said this, was that the AACM were pivotal in creating one of the first independent music economies to provide black people--living in disadvantaged areas of Chicago--with an outlet for a serious avant-garde / intellectual voice. What’s more is that the group ran on an egalitarian system that utilised the power of the individual; one of the first independent music industries to do so and achieve some form of success. Nice work Ken. I can’t wait for your next “innovation”.
Perhaps the most famous of the AACM drove is The Art Ensemble of Chicago (AEOC). Guided by Lester Bowie’s compositional strength, and driven by Roscoe Mitchell’s playing ability, AEOC emigrated to Paris in the late 1960’s (often considered their best period) and, in a very short time, produced a prolific amount of work including: Message to Our Folks; Les Stances A Sophie (the soundtrack to the film of the same name); The Art Ensemble of Chicago with Fontella Bass, alongside numerous enigmatic live performances, focusing on black music history, or as they aptly put it “great black music”.
One of these performances (on the 5th of October 1969) was documented and initially released as two separate releases (Live Part 1, and Live Part 2), each covering one piece, on BYG in Japan; then re-released as a double LP on the Actuel revival label Charly in 1981. Despite the production lacking a little in clarity, the record offers up a notable insight to the AEOC’s dexterity within their earlier performances. Perhaps not as structurally concise as their later live performances, there are still the distinguishable elements: unity; the individual; identity, and so on. Obvious compositional comparisons exist to the work of Sun Ra; largely because of the ambiguity behind the deliberation and the spontaneity in the pieces, and how this is furthermore structured within them.
The first piece “Oh, Strange” is somewhat sombre in tone, and is perhaps stronger in narrative than the second piece “Bon Voyage”. My interpretation is of African American history, starting off with theme that hint at African heritage; heavy communal percussion (a drum-kit that has been spread throughout the band members, reinforcing the notion of unity and the individual) with delicate voice (here echoed in saxophone and trumpet melodies and improvisations) ringing out over the top. However, as these melodies become darker and more desperate, the reparative drum patterns take on a new contextual meaning, referencing American slavery. The piece eventually resolves into more disparate playing, deliberately empty with a cold tonal centre. The change in dynamic, as well as a change in instrumentation (vibes, bass clarinet, odd stringed instruments, subtle electronic effects… etc, at times comparable to middle period Harry Partch), seems to be commenting on 1960s African American culture; an intellectual voice, that is still being suffocated by a largely belligerent white bourgeoisie.
“Bon Voyage”, however, starts off from the point of a full-on “freak out“, before centring itself around a two-note bass groove provided by Malachi Favors, and poetry sung by Bowie’s wife Fontella Bass. Again the choice of instrumentation remains to be interesting, this time using: oboes; marimbas; flutes; sirens; bells; as well the more conventional “jazz” set-up, which leads to an aggressive yet more spiritual upheaval than the first piece, without falling wind of other corny spiritual jazz composition.
Monday, 16 February 2009
Sunday, 15 February 2009
Liam Og's (pub)
Ever read Charles Bukowski? Ever wondered what it would be like to drop into one of those bars where all dreams seem to have faded and hope seems like a thing of fiction writers? Welcome to Liam Og's! This dark and dingy pub--founded by Irish landlords--was originally situated in Elephant and Castle but now juts out from a corner on Walworth Road with a racing green paint job that reemphasises the fact that, this is indeed Irish. Having dipped in and out of the pub from time to time, on occasion--when spirits are high--the bar staff can be quite pleasant, and if you're lucky they'll regale you with an interesting story; but more often than not they seem unwelcoming, almost like they're unimpressed with your being there.
It's extremely quiet in here, and you feel that you would probably be better off not raising your voice beyond a whisper. Although there is never any violence, the tension is so thick you could almost bottle it. Yet there's something oddly romantic about Liam Og's: there's an Edward Hopper-esque charm, as if you had walked in there just before, or just after a rather untimely event. The décor is very traditional, like it's an old countryside pub that somehow became lost in the modern world. The furnishings aren't bad either, and there's various bit's of traditional English memorabilia strewn around the place; some of it exciting like the old fashioned bicycle harnessed to the ceiling; some of it rather questionable in it's content.
The drinks are somewhat limited in variation (despite this being one of the few pubs in London where I've found a half decent ginger wine), but they're cheap: one pint being under £3; and of course you'll be able to find one of the best pints of Guinness this side of the river. Liam Og's is definitely not for everyone, but if you think you can bear with the gripes, then it's probably worth a look in, even if it's just for an experience to muse upon at a later date. You may even catch the regular playing "Rhinestone Cowboy"... if you're lucky.
374 Walworth Road
London SE17 2NF
020 7703 3295
It's extremely quiet in here, and you feel that you would probably be better off not raising your voice beyond a whisper. Although there is never any violence, the tension is so thick you could almost bottle it. Yet there's something oddly romantic about Liam Og's: there's an Edward Hopper-esque charm, as if you had walked in there just before, or just after a rather untimely event. The décor is very traditional, like it's an old countryside pub that somehow became lost in the modern world. The furnishings aren't bad either, and there's various bit's of traditional English memorabilia strewn around the place; some of it exciting like the old fashioned bicycle harnessed to the ceiling; some of it rather questionable in it's content.
The drinks are somewhat limited in variation (despite this being one of the few pubs in London where I've found a half decent ginger wine), but they're cheap: one pint being under £3; and of course you'll be able to find one of the best pints of Guinness this side of the river. Liam Og's is definitely not for everyone, but if you think you can bear with the gripes, then it's probably worth a look in, even if it's just for an experience to muse upon at a later date. You may even catch the regular playing "Rhinestone Cowboy"... if you're lucky.
374 Walworth Road
London SE17 2NF
020 7703 3295
Flaherty Corsano Duo - Last Eyes (2005)
Paul Flaherty (alto sax); Chris Corsano (drums)
For some strange reason, I always forget that Paul Flaherty is a great saxophone player. Having unwittingly distanced myself from the infamous sax / drums duo for quite sometime, I decided to let Last Eyes by the Flaherty Corsano Duo blast through my speakers-- more out of curiosity than anything else. I’m slightly ashamed to admit that, when first I picked up the record upon it’s 2005 release date, I had the ears of a novice (or to be more precise, someone who listened to “noise” just “because”; not really making the effort to distinguish right from wrong). Not that there’s anything wrong with this, but my outlook and ears have changed somewhat over the past four years.
Now I’m not trying to make the boorish statement that this is a “noise” record. No… that would puerile. What this is--I would argue--, is probably one of the finest examples of the duo’s compatibility; and I’d even consider saying, the finest playing in their individual recorded careers (although I’ve heard a considerable amount more of Chris Corsano than I have Flaherty). The (at a glance) odd coupling of free-titan Flaherty (who’s released records since the 70s), and the comparative new-comer Corsano, work together ferociously, relentlessly, and concisely.
Stripped down to the bare-essentials (ie, no digital effects, no overdubs… etc), they seem to resist the temptation to “go through the motions”; yes Flaherty does squawk and wail, but he seems to be in some form of control most of the time. As well he shows that he can back this up by occasionally falling back on more intricate passages. Corsano is to some extent less adventurous here than in his latter day playing, but I don’t necessarily see this is a bad thing. Sure he doesn’t focus on pulling off some if his well developed stunts (the ripping off tape from his drums, or the carefully deliberated use of pan lids, for example), but what he does exhibit here is a fast, naked, fearless, and involved attack towards the drums.
Although this is probably most easily defined as a free jazz record, the duo hint at other genre infatuations as well; sporadically referencing psychedelia, out rock, primitivism, as well as a plethora of other musical ideas.
For some strange reason, I always forget that Paul Flaherty is a great saxophone player. Having unwittingly distanced myself from the infamous sax / drums duo for quite sometime, I decided to let Last Eyes by the Flaherty Corsano Duo blast through my speakers-- more out of curiosity than anything else. I’m slightly ashamed to admit that, when first I picked up the record upon it’s 2005 release date, I had the ears of a novice (or to be more precise, someone who listened to “noise” just “because”; not really making the effort to distinguish right from wrong). Not that there’s anything wrong with this, but my outlook and ears have changed somewhat over the past four years.
Now I’m not trying to make the boorish statement that this is a “noise” record. No… that would puerile. What this is--I would argue--, is probably one of the finest examples of the duo’s compatibility; and I’d even consider saying, the finest playing in their individual recorded careers (although I’ve heard a considerable amount more of Chris Corsano than I have Flaherty). The (at a glance) odd coupling of free-titan Flaherty (who’s released records since the 70s), and the comparative new-comer Corsano, work together ferociously, relentlessly, and concisely.
Stripped down to the bare-essentials (ie, no digital effects, no overdubs… etc), they seem to resist the temptation to “go through the motions”; yes Flaherty does squawk and wail, but he seems to be in some form of control most of the time. As well he shows that he can back this up by occasionally falling back on more intricate passages. Corsano is to some extent less adventurous here than in his latter day playing, but I don’t necessarily see this is a bad thing. Sure he doesn’t focus on pulling off some if his well developed stunts (the ripping off tape from his drums, or the carefully deliberated use of pan lids, for example), but what he does exhibit here is a fast, naked, fearless, and involved attack towards the drums.
Although this is probably most easily defined as a free jazz record, the duo hint at other genre infatuations as well; sporadically referencing psychedelia, out rock, primitivism, as well as a plethora of other musical ideas.
Friday, 9 January 2009
My List of Garbage.
Original Post:
Being that time of year when we reflect on the past so that we can take a big positive leaps into the future (or at least into the next few days), I felt that it would be entirely appropriate to write a list of my most hated people. With the exception of Jeremy Clarkson, I do not wish any harm upon these detestable creatures, I simply abhor them from the very depths of my soul (which has been blackened by their vile presence on this planet).
In no particular order (for I believe in equality, and they are each as insufferable as one another):
Bono
Jeremy Clarkson
Simon Cowell
JK
Jeremy Kyle
Adam Sandler
So there you have it; now that this has been said and done, we can continue life as normal without having our minds preoccupied with these vile specimens. Perhaps you might like to start your own free love hippy commune. I know I will.
Afterthoughts:
Bradley Kulisic: Karl, I would simply love to know your thoughts on Victoria Beckham. Please do tell!
Karl Brummer: She's pretty intolerable alright; I also find it funny that she's the only spice girl to have maintained her "spice" name over the years. As for David Beckham... well I think every ridiculously overpaid footballer deserves to have their legs amputated to be given to less fortunate individuals without legs so they can have their turn.
It seems only fair when you consider the ridiculous economic injustice that is the belligerent-leather-kicking-whore-shagging-footballer's pay slip. Then they go and spend all that money on something stupid like a jacuzzi for the kitchen, or a DVD player for the dog's kennel, whilst nurses and firemen get paid diddly squat for saving people's lives day and night.
This is a trite point to make, but a perfectly valid one. David Beckham has proved to be no exception to these points.
Being that time of year when we reflect on the past so that we can take a big positive leaps into the future (or at least into the next few days), I felt that it would be entirely appropriate to write a list of my most hated people. With the exception of Jeremy Clarkson, I do not wish any harm upon these detestable creatures, I simply abhor them from the very depths of my soul (which has been blackened by their vile presence on this planet).
In no particular order (for I believe in equality, and they are each as insufferable as one another):
Bono
Jeremy Clarkson
Simon Cowell
JK
Jeremy Kyle
Adam Sandler
So there you have it; now that this has been said and done, we can continue life as normal without having our minds preoccupied with these vile specimens. Perhaps you might like to start your own free love hippy commune. I know I will.
Afterthoughts:
Bradley Kulisic: Karl, I would simply love to know your thoughts on Victoria Beckham. Please do tell!
Karl Brummer: She's pretty intolerable alright; I also find it funny that she's the only spice girl to have maintained her "spice" name over the years. As for David Beckham... well I think every ridiculously overpaid footballer deserves to have their legs amputated to be given to less fortunate individuals without legs so they can have their turn.
It seems only fair when you consider the ridiculous economic injustice that is the belligerent-leather-kickin
This is a trite point to make, but a perfectly valid one. David Beckham has proved to be no exception to these points.
Tuesday, 18 November 2008
For Music Geeks: the Five Best Starts to Jazz Records I have Heard.
Not that I'm an authority on the matter, I just listen to a lot of jazz.
In no particular order:
1. Eric Dolphy - The Illinois Concert (1963)
2. The Art Ensemble of Chicago - A Jackson in Your House (1969)
3. Miles Davis - On the Corner (1972) (it was a toss up between this and "Kind of Blue" (1959). "On the Corner" won for shock purposes)
4. Sun Ra - Space is the Place (1972) (although it may not count because it's a little long winded, but the opening horn melody is a killer)
5. Ornette Coleman - Free Jazz (1960) (after careful considertion because it's kind of an obvious choice, but perhaps some things are obvious for a reason)
Afterthought:
If "Poise" by Ornette Coleman was the opening track on "This is Our Music" (1959), that would have be in place of "Free Jazz", but it isn't so its not. I also contemplated Max Roach's Freedom Now Suite "We Insist!" (1960), but it was too long winded (it's worth checking out though, when the band kick in it's one of the best things you can lay your ears on). Freddie Hubbard's "Here to Stay" (1962) was a considered, but it didn't quite cut the biscuit.
And it almost goes without saying: the openings to "Giant Steps" (1960), "My Favourite Things" (1961), and "A Love Supreme" (1965) by John Coltrane strongly contend to outdo any openings ever, but I thought I would give some other records a chance... because I'm nice like that.
In no particular order:
1. Eric Dolphy - The Illinois Concert (1963)
2. The Art Ensemble of Chicago - A Jackson in Your House (1969)
3. Miles Davis - On the Corner (1972) (it was a toss up between this and "Kind of Blue" (1959). "On the Corner" won for shock purposes)
4. Sun Ra - Space is the Place (1972) (although it may not count because it's a little long winded, but the opening horn melody is a killer)
5. Ornette Coleman - Free Jazz (1960) (after careful considertion because it's kind of an obvious choice, but perhaps some things are obvious for a reason)
Afterthought:
If "Poise" by Ornette Coleman was the opening track on "This is Our Music" (1959), that would have be in place of "Free Jazz", but it isn't so its not. I also contemplated Max Roach's Freedom Now Suite "We Insist!" (1960), but it was too long winded (it's worth checking out though, when the band kick in it's one of the best things you can lay your ears on). Freddie Hubbard's "Here to Stay" (1962) was a considered, but it didn't quite cut the biscuit.
And it almost goes without saying: the openings to "Giant Steps" (1960), "My Favourite Things" (1961), and "A Love Supreme" (1965) by John Coltrane strongly contend to outdo any openings ever, but I thought I would give some other records a chance... because I'm nice like that.
Saturday, 11 October 2008
...and that's supposed to be good is it?
I had the misfortune of catching So What by Pink (aka P!nk, or Alecia Beth Moore) on T4 this morning whilst trying to enjoy my sultana bran (that probably says it all really). The song is fundamentally about Moore's break up with her husband, with other personal nuances that give it that three dimensional layer of decoration, as we can tell by this section of the lyrics:
Pink So What:
Imagine having this wretch sneering at you first thing in the morning; am I supposed to feel sorry for this big "rock star", who has ripped off the public with this lazy and above all cheap wordplay? When people listen to this song do they think "I remember my divorce and when Jessica Simpson took my table at a restaurant, I found it easy to take solace in the fact that I was a big massive rock star which really boosted my confidence"? I'm genuinely confused by this! But then again, rhyming 'Simp- shit' with 'hit'... round of applause for that anyone?
If you really feel like finding out more go here:
http://www.metrolyrics.com/so-what-lyrics-pink.html
Pink So What:
Uh, check my flow, uh
The waiter just took my table
And gave to Jessica Simp- Shit!
I guess I'll go sit with drum boy
At least he'll know how to hit
What if this song's on the radio
Then somebody's gonna die
I'm gonna get in trouble
My ex will start a fight
Na Na Na Na Na Na Na
He's gonna start a fight
Na Na Na Na Na Na Na
We're all gonna get in a fight
So, so what?
I'm still a rock star
I got my rock moves
And I don't need you
And guess what
I'm having more funAnd now that we're done
I'm gonna show you tonight
I'm alright, I'm just fine
And you're a tool
So, so what?
I am a rock star
I got my rock moves
And I don't want you tonight...
...Whoo Hoo
Ba Da Da Da Da Da
Pffft
Ba da da da da da
Imagine having this wretch sneering at you first thing in the morning; am I supposed to feel sorry for this big "rock star", who has ripped off the public with this lazy and above all cheap wordplay? When people listen to this song do they think "I remember my divorce and when Jessica Simpson took my table at a restaurant, I found it easy to take solace in the fact that I was a big massive rock star which really boosted my confidence"? I'm genuinely confused by this! But then again, rhyming 'Simp- shit' with 'hit'... round of applause for that anyone?
If you really feel like finding out more go here:
http://www.metrolyrics.com
Saturday, 6 September 2008
Classic but underused swear names
In August I instigated a list that, with the help of some rather contrary friends, compiled the best of the forgotten swear names. Here is that list.
I believe all of these, when used appropriately, can be quite cutting:
Bag
Berk
Brut (which also can be used as an adjective: i.e. "you brutish cow"; and so on)
Buffoon
Bugger
Cad
Card
Chump
Cock
Cockknocker
Codger
Cow
Cretin
Cunny
Dick head
Dipstick
Div
Dork
Dullard
Dunce
Dufus
Dweeb
Git
Goon
Half-wit
Herbert
Imbecile
Jerk
Moron (although that's making a comeback)
Nerd
Nincompoop
Ninny
Nitwit
Numb-skull
Pecker
Pillock
Plank
Plebeian (abbreviates to Pleb)
Plonker
Plum
Poindexter
Pranny
Prat
Putz
Oaf
Queef
Quim
Schmuck
Simpleton
Spack
Spazz
Spiv
Sod
Sourpuss
Swine
Tit
Toss Pot
Turd
Tripe (although this can only be used in a certain way, at a certain time)
Troglodyte (abbreviates to Trog)
Trollop
Twerp
Twit
Twot
Wally
Wazzock
An example of how one uses such words appropriately:
Close your mouth when you eat you wretched sod.
How dare you take my mother's name with strife, you foul mouthed twit.
What a lot of codswollop, you curmudgeonous old git.
I believe all of these, when used appropriately, can be quite cutting:
Bag
Berk
Brut (which also can be used as an adjective: i.e. "you brutish cow"; and so on)
Buffoon
Bugger
Cad
Card
Chump
Cock
Cockknocker
Codger
Cow
Cretin
Cunny
Dick head
Dipstick
Div
Dork
Dullard
Dunce
Dufus
Dweeb
Git
Goon
Half-wit
Herbert
Imbecile
Jerk
Moron (although that's making a comeback)
Nerd
Nincompoop
Ninny
Nitwit
Numb-skull
Pecker
Pillock
Plank
Plebeian (abbreviates to Pleb)
Plonker
Plum
Poindexter
Pranny
Prat
Putz
Oaf
Queef
Quim
Schmuck
Simpleton
Spack
Spazz
Spiv
Sod
Sourpuss
Swine
Tit
Toss Pot
Turd
Tripe (although this can only be used in a certain way, at a certain time)
Troglodyte (abbreviates to Trog)
Trollop
Twerp
Twit
Twot
Wally
Wazzock
An example of how one uses such words appropriately:
Close your mouth when you eat you wretched sod.
How dare you take my mother's name with strife, you foul mouthed twit.
What a lot of codswollop, you curmudgeonous old git.
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