More from the Myopic Books Experimental Music Series: Josh Berman, Brian Labycz, & Julian Kirshner - Oct. 28th, 2013

Q: You wanna play a little more?

Q: …One piece or two?

A: Whatever (inaudible) wanna do.

Similar to last week’s excellent set at Myopic Books’ Experimental Music Series (see below), this week’s trio set a course for the unknown. Josh Berman (cornet), Brian Labycz (modular synthesizer), & Julian Kirshner (percussion) dove headfirst into uncharted, improvised waters searching for sound and music. The film freak in me sees this performance practice as music’s counterpart to Darryl Zero’s (Bill Pullman in Zero Effect) philosophy on private investigation: “A few words on looking for things: When you go looking for something specific, your chances of finding it are very bad. Because of all the things in the world, you’re only looking for one of them. When you go looking for anything at all, your chances of finding it are very good. Because of all the things in the world, you’re sure to find some of them.”  

The trio was certainly a collective, but to this observer Berman felt, for most of the set, somewhat “out front.” Maybe this is partially due to the nature of the particular combination of instruments; or maybe it just happened to be the dynamic this particular night. There can be reasons (sometimes undetectable to the outside observer), but in situations like these this intermittent hierarchy is simply a default of chance. Maybe, intrinsically, there’s a different dynamic to a trio than within a duo (last week’s duo seeming a bit more balanced). Is it harder to keep three things in balance than it is two? Not that an equal balance is always, or should necessarily be, a goal. On the contrary, drama is often found in the tipping of balances; The way certain things open up in film and the theater when three characters create a triangle; like Anton Chekhov’s The Three Sisters or Woody Allen’s Hannah and Her Sisters.

From fits and starts to more fluid sections, the musicians made nearly no pretense to old school conventions. Berman, employing a wide range of tone and technique, occasionally referenced more traditional phrases or spurts of bebop-tinged licks. But the majority of the music making headed directly into the non-idiomatic deep end. Berman’s horn careened from full, round-toned majesty to complete arrhythmic/atonal growling and popping; often creating an effect that sounded like wind scraping against itself.     

The music moved back and forth from events that sounded more “chaotic” to moments that made more collective “sense.” Density, speed, color, energy, volume, and texture seem to be the concerns of this music – as opposed to more traditional components like harmony, rhythm, or form. However, harmony, rhythm and form contain within them elements of these other concerns and can be used to contribute to the building of these other landscapes. It’s as if this music (or these musicians) is stripping away extraneous elements in trying to get at the most elemental aspects of music; or even to a more elemental idea outside of music through musical means. A kind of meta-music.

Labycz’s modular synthesizer was a revelation to this writer/listener. I’d heard the term but had never seen anyone perform on one. To look at, it recalls an old school telephone switchboard. The sounds Labycz coaxed out of it through his Roland keyboard amp ranged from traditional synth sounds a la Moog, to all manner of electronic blips and gurgles. I expected to see a keyboard behind his synth’s case when I peeked at it after the set, but the trigger mechanism was a kind of smallish, elongated rod with a solid plastic strip running its length one presses to activate (see end of video below to get a better idea). Possibly akin to a fretless neck versus fretted. One could feel the restraint Labycz employed from the occasional volume audibly being repressed from his Roland amp. For most of the set he seemed to intentionally play a more supportive, underscoring role within the trio. Reacting in a supportive manner in this fully open context is not an easy task. Labycz created large, unique canvases for the group to play against. Seeing Labycz’s instrument after the set, I immediately knew asking questions about its hows/whats would be fruitless unless I had more time to process and probe his answers. But it seemed he enjoys talking about this instrument. The amazing duality of his modular synth is that it’s so electronically complex while having the capacity to produce a sound that is so pure.

Completing the trio is drummer Kirshner. Similarly to Labycz, he also seemed to focus mainly on creating platforms for others to leap from or to be supported by during this set. Kirshner created a particularly effective sonic backdrop by placing cymbals/gongs on his low tom and whirling them about on its surface with a mallet. This created a rather full and unusual effect to be placed under and against other sounds.             

Sets of music like Berman/Labycz/Kirshner’s, and the previous week’s Jackson and Fandino, have me looking forward to many more nights of intriguing, experimental music at Myopic Books. This evening’s music was so engrossing I almost forgot I was missing the beginning of Game 5 of the World Series… :)

Watch an excerpt from the first set:

Keefe Jackson & Daniel Fandino @ Myopic Books, 10/21/2013

Q: One set or two?

A: No preference.

This brief Q&A between Keefe Jackson and Daniel Fandino, just a moment before they started their set last Monday evening, could serve as an analogy to the openness and immediacy of the creative improvised music community. As situations and questions arise, preferences and solutions become apparent; then choices are made in the moment. If this sounds musically vague or evasive, it’s only because these words are separate from the actual event. At Myopic Books, Jackson and Fandino made very concrete choices to the specific musical questions and circumstances they were dealing with that evening.           

Many creative musicians are concerned with extending (and personalizing) the capabilities of their particular instruments beyond the traditional uses. This often comes in the form of electronic manipulation of the sounds they produce, or by simply coming at the instrument in a radically, physically different way. This practice is sometimes referred to as “extended techniques.” Both Jackson and Fandino made extensive use of extended techniques at Myopic; raking a mouthpiece cap over the keywork of the bass clarinet, using an inner thigh or sneaker as a mute for the horn, bouncing the guitar facedown on your leg, placing objects through the strings of the guitar to produce new tones a la John Cage-like prepared piano, etc etc etc… For the inexperienced or the purist, these types of manipulations can seem absurd or showy. But for the more open-minded, or those who have spent decades becoming overly familiar with and accustomed to traditional approaches, any attempt to find a new way can feel refreshing and worthwhile. Jackson and Fandino’s set was nothing if not refreshing and worthwhile.

The forty-minute set at Myopic Books, consisting of five separate pieces, was entirely improvised and consisted of a relatively even mix of the extended techniques previously mentioned and more traditional sounds from the instruments (tenor saxophone, bass clarinet, electric guitar). However, all traditional rhythms and forms were near uniformly eschewed. Forms were dictated by the close communication between the two players and consistently flowed back and forth between louder dense/dissonant interplay, and more delicate, harmonically consonant events. Fandino’s chordal approach reveals a deep understanding of modern harmony and the mechanics of the guitar. His occasional, and intentional, use of the lower register of the guitar to create cloudy and obscured harmonic effects was particularly intriguing. And Jackson’s melodic responses to these unusual and harmonically idiosyncratic choices swiftly illuminated them, expanding their conception. Like a droplet of water hitting a crinkled up straw wrapper.

Throughout the improvised set, many moments in the music seemed composed. For me, this is always the most exciting thing to witness in a purely improvised setting. These moments might not always be the most musically intricate or original, but when players are listening and reacting deeply enough that they can, in a sense, see the future together, setting a map in medias res to arrive together on time, I can’t help but feel energized. Often, these moments feel not part of any planning, or maybe an unconscious planning. The players out of the blue have a similar trajectory; then on a dime simply… arrive. Always a good feeling - simply arriving.  

Throughout the set, it felt as though Jackson and Fandino kept getting closer and closer to a mutual intention. Both players have obviously been influenced and inspired by avant-garde players of the past few decades, as well as having internalized more traditional capabilities. Fandino brought to mind a cross between Derek Bailey and Ben Monder. Imagine Monder adhering to no convention, or Bailey adhering to some. Fandino’s classical right hand fingering technique being briefly employed, in a musical situation in which it is not usually found, also brought to mind some of Monder’s playing.

Some of Jackson’s earlier recordings (Just Like This, Ready Everyday…) reveal a different side to the one presented at Myopic Books; one which is more compositionally oriented. Those recordings show an interest, and keen ability, in playing within somewhat more traditional forms, rhythms and harmonies; albeit still far removed from anything considered mainstream to the wider music world. Jackson is obviously something of a stylistic polymath and was concentrating more on his strictly experimental playing at Myopic.

It’s always a pleasure knowing there are players out there who are willing and able to go the extra mile. Jackson and Fandino, and the other players involved in Myopic Books’ Improvised/Experimental Music Series, are a goldmine.

        

Exploding Star Orchestra @ Chicago Cultural Center, October 18th, 6:30PM: Leader/Trumpeter Rob Mazurek, flutist Nicole Mitchell, guitarist Jeff Parker, saxophonist/clarinetist Matt Bauder, pianist Angelica Sanchez, bassist Matthew Lux, drummer John Herndon, and vocalist Damon Locks.

Rare is the artistic outfit that can title their pieces “63 Moons of Jupiter” and “Galactic Parables,” only to compose and perform them with such finesse, vision, and abandon as to make those same titles seem tame and unimaginative in comparison to their sonic realization. The Exploding Star Orchestra (ESO) is such an outfit. “Moons” and “Parables,” the latter being a U.S. premiere performance, were linked together for an epic hour and forty minute-long suite at the Chicago Cultural Center last night.

Is the ESO a “jazz orchestra?” I’d say sure, definitely. But most folks likely associate that term with groups like the Lincoln Center Jazz Orchestra, Maria Schneider’s Orchestra, or even old dance bands like Benny Goodman. The ESO is an entirely different beast, closer in spirit and sound to Sun Ra than Duke Ellington. Founded by Rob Mazurek in 2005, this group (and Mazurek himself) is one of the most idiosyncratic, progressive, and creatively satisfying acts currently playing. As close as I can figure it, their aesthetic is a mix of Sun Ra, Charles Mingus, and a generalized 60s-70s post Coleman energy music. But to my mind, Mingus would be the closest point of reference in terms of overall concept (if not in sound), even though he had some choice words for the avant-garde on occasion. Like Mingus, Mazurek and the ESO use long form compositions to weave back and forth between intricately written sections and collective improvisations. And as Mingus directed his groups, cueing them from section to section, Mazurek does the same; whether it’s with a simple head nod to start a line, a conductor’s wave to signal the entire band into a new section, or walking across the stage to begin some background lines with another band member. And as Mingus’s early study of European classical music seeped into his music, Mazurek and the ESO seem to have a connection to this “legit” world as well; While the music contains plenty of strong jazz rhythms and gestures, many of the harmonies/lines and forms stray far away from the regular jazz tropes, forming a world apart. As a last similarity to Mingus, the ESO is also incorporating spoken word into their long forms: a near extreme rarity in jazz. 

From the first downbeat, the “Moons/Parables” suite was dense, angular, and swirling. However, even with the music being harmonically dissonant at times and often rhythmically slippery, the players tone and feel give even the novice listener something to hold onto. As concerned as Mazurek is with composition/form/aesthetics/etc…, he still knows that the most important thing in his playing is the instrument’s sound. Depending on the his intent, his horn can sound bright, suffusive, electronically treated, acoustic, etc… And his intuition is honed to a special level. He’s acquired the knack to lead and follow simultaneously; an especially valuable trait in modern creative improvisation. This trait is related to his seeming ability to be wholly original when reacting to his surroundings, and to seem to be reacting to his surroundings when creating something out of thin air. Or as Steve Winwood once described Hendrix, “He’s grooving on a whole other plane.”

Maybe the most unusual, or unexpected, aspect of the performance was the incorporation of spoken word from the ever-in-motion vocalist Damon Locks (he danced near continuously on stage when not speaking into his mic). At key section changes, Locks would enter with tales of “galactic parable #72,” or an interesting riff on Muhammad Ali and Joe Frazier (if I heard it right). At times, Locks words were treated electronically and manipulated to become another part of the collective improv with other band members. It gave the performance a certain “theatricality” most music performances don’t have and Locks got it just right.

Everyone on the stage was essential, but other standouts were the inimitable Chicago rhythm section of Matthew Lux and John Herndon. The last time I was lucky enough to see them perform together live was back in 2000 in Phoenix, AZ with the brilliant post-rock band Isotope 217. So solid and so loose. They sounded perfect back then and yet they still have come so far. Herndon particularly lifted the band with his propulsive energy. The drummer got the least amount of rest in last night’s situation and he was putting it out heavy for about 100 minute straight. That’s a workout. Flutist Nicole Mitchell and guitarist Jeff Parker were the other two standout soloists and front line melodists. Both switch back and forth between sharper attacks and more mellow tones from their instruments depending on the context, and both are intent listeners when improvising, always reacting. Parker, to me, is a particularly interesting and original player. In his soloing, he often seems to have a hard-won, intentionally hesitant feel. It’s different from laying behind the beat. It comes off as a kind of innocence; a kind of perfected groping. It’s a kind of Thelonious Monk “ugly beauty.” Parker’s playing is a beautiful thing.

Mazurek and the ESO issue big challenges to themselves, and they challenge their audiences as well. Pushing boundaries in art can be a slippery slope. But the ESO, Rob Mazurek, and many other musicians here in Chicago are pushing with a purpose. They’re not pushing to pose. And if this all sounds too impossibly hip, or sophisticated, or… something, I still imagine (hope?) that Mazurek and company have a similar attitude toward their art/audience that Bill Murray’s character in Tootsie has. How does one describe that attitude? Well, there’s no describing Bill Murray. It is what it is.

     

Marisa Anderson in-store performance @ Reckless Records

She’s been referred to as “brilliant” (Pitchfork), with similar praises coming from other respected outlets like Time Out London and Wire Magazine. I don’t have enough exposure to her music to heap more superlatives onto the fire, but I can say I was very happy to be one of the few in attendance at her Reckless Records (N. Broadway branch) in-store performance this past Friday. Marisa Anderson gave off a genuine vibe of love and attachment to her guitar, the music she brings out of it, and its attendant musical history; mainly early 20^th century American country/gospel and blues guitar styles, and to a somewhat lesser extent some current blues-rock music in terms of tone.

Imagine a slightly more studied Jack White if he played solo and all instrumental. Some of Anderson’s playing also reminded me of a lesser-known, old-school country/gospel/blues influenced contemporary: Scott H. Biram. But while Biram plays up the image of the fuck-it, loose cannon blues renegade screamer, Anderson’s presence and personality at this in-store performance was a bit soft-spoken; somewhat shy even. However, her low key, in-between song banter played the foil to her guitar playing which often had quite an edge - distorted, sharp, bluesy, loud-ish, occasionally sloppy and out of tune, and undoubtedly intentionally so. Speak softly and carry a big guitar. But just as often her playing matched her inward looking, pensive vibe. This was particularly so on her piece named after the place her father's family is from, “Koufax,” and her medley of gospel tunes. Her somewhat brief references to the classic “I’ll Fly Away” were particularly moving, respectful, and authentic – whatever “authentic” may mean in a musical context. “Authentic is as authentic does,” Gump might observe.

Reckless Records’ hosts (killer record store!) and Anderson herself were way friendly and had no qualms with me shooting some video of the performance. She followed her in-store performance later that evening with an opening set at the venerable club The Hideout. I hope to be “reporting” from there quite a bit. Take a look/listen to some excerpts of Anderson from the N. Broadway, Chicago record store below. Excellent guitar playing: