Author Archives: Mike

Tord Gustavsen Quartet at Chicago’s Constellation

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“Meditative” and “liturgical.” Those were pianist Tord Gustavsen‘s whispered descriptions of his impending set at Constellation on Saturday night. He and his quartet – Gustavsen, saxophonist Tore Brunborg, bassist Mats Eilertsen, drummer Jarle Vespestad – brought their intimate Nordic jazz to the small but attentive capacity crowd. The performance was part of a five city promotional tour of the US in support of the recently released Extended Circle, an album I highly recommend.

The band’s ~75-minute set featured material from the quartet’s two albums Extended Circle and The Well along with earlier Gustavsen selections from Restored, Returned and Being There. Gustavsen and his band have a very stark approach on record, and I was curious how that would translate to a live setting. I’m pleased to report that it did so perfectly. The small venue and low lighting complemented the band’s restraint. It took until the set’s final number (before the encore), “Eg Veit I Himmerik Ei Borg,” for them to reach a semblance of forte, and in doing so provided a welcome release – and relief! – after the long, simmering slow burn. The set was a series of peaks and valleys, with each peak slightly higher than the last until the zenith during “Eg Veit…” I very much appreciated the group’s restraint – not once did it feel forced. Subtle intensity, Gustavsen’s specialty, is often more difficult to achieve than via the usual “high-fast-loud” means, and the band successfully executed it.

Such subtlety was achieved not through dynamics and dissonance alone but also via texture. Brunborg began and ended the evening on soprano (“The Child Within” and “Vicar Street,” respectively), but otherwise played tenor saxophone throughout. However, the tenor/piano/bass/drums instrumentation was exploited to its full potential. Gustavsen tastefully played outside and inside of the piano with great ease, completely avoiding any sense of gimmickry. Eilertsen beautifully played pizzicato and arco, and seeing a jazz bassist use a bow well was a breath of fresh air. Perhaps the MVP in this arena was drummer Jarle Vespestad. His control of his instrument, be it with drumsticks, mallets, brushes, or his hands, was second to none, particularly his cymbal work. I saw it as him approaching his drumset from a percussionist’s perspective instead of a drummer’s. And floating above it all was Tore Brunborg’s golden tone. Wow – I’ve listened to him on a lot of different recordings and none of them prepared me for just how deeply resonant his tenor sound would be in person. The icing on this sonic cake was their touring sound engineer. The amplification was used not to necessarily increased the volume but rather to enhance the live mix and balance, and every sound was crisp and clear.

Each musician basked in the spotlight some throughout the evening, including a couple of unaccompanied piano solos and a bass cadenza. Overall, however, Gustavsen’s music is more conducive to featuring the ensemble as a whole rather than an individual member, as improvised and composed passages seamlessly blend together. The set featured a nice mix of tunes, including “The Child Within,” “Suite,” “The Embrace,” “Glow,” “Eg Veit…,” “Vicar Street,” and others. Similar to the emphasizing of the ensemble as a whole, the individual tunes were less important than the flow of the overall set, which culminated in “Eg Veit…” and then unwound with the encore “Vicar Street.”

I attended this performance with my partner in crime Matt Borghi. Our shared love of ECM aside, this concert was rather special for me personally, as I never thought I’d see Tore Brunborg perform in the US. (And it’s not yet worked out for me to him in Europe.) He’s received some attention on this blog, notably for his work with Manu Katché (in whose band I first heard him), but also a quick reference regarding saxophonists who’ve influenced me. He should get his own full post at some point, as I enjoy his work – both as leader and sideman – but suffice it to say that I’m quite a fan. Furthermore, visiting with the band after the show was a real treat, and it was great to learn that they’re wonderful people as well as top-flight musicians.

If you have the opportunity to see this group, you must certainly take it. 2014 tour details here.

For a taste, here’s the quartet performing “Vicar Street” in 2009:

Recommended: On “Forbidden Music”

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I rarely just post a link to another entry without much annotation – it’s something I try to generally avoid, as many blogs seem to devolve into link repositories. However, sometimes an article really sticks with me and I’d like to share it here. And, often, I either don’t have much of anything to add to it or don’t have the time to hash out my own “take” on it.

One month later, this article by Bob Shingleton at On An Overgrown Path keeps popping in my head. (I’ve read On An Overgrown Path for a number of months now – soon to be a year, I’m sure.) It’s an informed, thoughtful roundup of “forbidden musics” that doesn’t limit itself to time and place. The easy target is of course the artistic propaganda crusade of the Nazi regime (e.g., Entartete Musik). However, Shingleton steps back here and surveys this horrific trend with a wider perspective. He writes, “This failure to even recognise the existence of a huge corpus of forbidden music outside Nazi Germany brings the risk of mono-culturalism.”

FULL ARTICLE HERE: “We need to widen the definition of forbidden music”

As a “bonus,” I also learned here of the Basilica of Saint Adalbert in nearby Grand Rapids. I may have to pay a visit.

Borghi & Teager on this week’s ‘Hearts of Space’

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As a heads-up, Matt Borghi & Michael Teager are featured on this week’s episode of Hearts of Space. The episode, titled “SAXOPHONIC,” looks at the saxophone’s use in ambient music. It’s a tremendous honor for Matt and myself to have been featured on the holy trinity of ambient music programs – Star’s End, Echoes, and now Hearts of Space – these last few months. More info here.

[NOTE: This post replaces a previous iteration of the same, which has since been deleted.]

Oh Say, Renée

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I don’t use this blog to troll others, although it’s been attempted once, twice, or thrice in the past. In general, I find the whole trolling culture to be a waste. It goes nowhere, even though it may be incredibly popular. Having said that, since I have the time, it’s worth pointing out an odd article/blog over at The Washington Post by the classical music critic Anne Midgette about Renée Fleming‘s performance of The Star Spangled Banner at the Super Bowl. (And, believe me, I’ll be the first to concede that my scheming away in my dark, untrodden corner of the internet won’t even register on the Post‘s or Midgette’s radar.) I’m not out to fisk, but a couple items have annoyingly stuck with me over the last couple days.

Full disclosure: I enjoyed the performance (as much as I can enjoy over-the-top versions of the national anthem, anyway). And, having turned the TV off afterwards, it was the most I’ve seen of a Super Bowl in I don’t know how long.

First, a major point of agreement with Ms. Midgette. Like many other classical music-oriented folk, I developed an almost partisan attitude about the performance. Admittedly, there was a small part of me that was genuinely pleased/excited when it was announced that Renée Fleming would be singing the national anthem at the Super Bowl, the first opera singer to do so. The timing couldn’t have been better considering the latest circular firing squad about the death of classical music, etc. And I must confess that I, along with many of my musical colleagues, was excited to have a trained, virtuosic singer bask in the glory for a change. I by no means think training is everything – much of this blog complains about such things – but let the academy have the spotlight now and again. Besides, without getting on too high a horse, lip-synching (and finger-synching) is all too common, and enjoying some live music is a welcome change of pace.

I’ve read the Post piece three times, and I still don’t know how Anne really felt about Ms. Fleming’s performance. (But at least she wrote something, which is more than I can say for most. For all the hubbub leading up to the performance, afterwards you’d almost think it didn’t happen.) I think the source of my frustration lies in the opening paragraph. Anne rightly points out the classical community’s insecurity about its place in society. But then, instead of writing confidently about the opera star, Ms. Midgette hedges and takes an almost hipster turn, praising Queen Latifah’s “sounding easy” and looking “drop-dead perfect” in her casual attire. This is followed by Anne’s sniping Renée’s formalwear. I read that as the classical music critic herself feeling somewhat out of place and trying to “play nice” in the popular realm by writing about a sporting event. (“Oh, hey, I’m one of y’all! Did you see that diva?! Ick!”)

Not to speak ill of royalty, but I thought Queen Latifah sounded easy because she probably wasn’t trying too hard. I know my wife (a music teacher) and I cringed on the couch during America the Beautiful and shared quite the chuckle afterwards. Add in the ghosting musicians behind her and it was quite the musical circus. If Renée had a “faux-pop” sound, then Latifah’s was faux-good. It’s true that Ms. Fleming was a touch flat in parts, but big whoop. Not only did she sound lovely – though, that arrangement left much to be desired – but, again, she came to the table and delivered. And of course Queen Latifah was relaxed. She performs in such environments on a regular basis, whereas Renée – clearly the superior vocalist – was in an alien environment, from the amplification to the massive crowds to the televised spectacle.

Having written this, I suppose my real contention is with the author’s apparent hedging. There’s no need to kowtow to the popular music establishment. You’re the classical music critic – I don’t think anyone’s expecting you to opine about the wonders of 90s pop stars. Such insecurity does as much to perpetuate the myth of classical music’s death as some tripe in Slate. After all, if those in the classical community seem relatively embarrassed about belonging to it, why would others find it worthwhile?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7etXoNrwP8c

My Ambient Canon II: Pumpkin Seeds

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SP_Heart

As I wrote in my previous post, my introduction to ambient music wasn’t via ambient music directly, but rather through a variety of other sources. This nascent series isn’t intended to be chronological (from an autobiographical point of view). I’ll attempt some organization, but we’ll see. For this entry, I’ll begin with what I think may be my “patient zero,” at least as much as my memory is concerned: Smashing Pumpkins.

About three years ago I briefly wrote about SP as being a musical “primary source” of mine. Among the band’s many musical layers and nuances is the use of sonic ambience. Although it’s not a crutch, Billy Corgan‘s (and James Iha’s, etc. – but, primarily for studio recordings, Billy’s) guitar is often made many through overdubbing. Beyond that, the group has always featured two guitarists live (2+ via studio magic), and the added chordal layer is part of what gives the band’s music such sonic weight. Aside from weight, the additional guitar allows for layering in both the foreground and background. This is quite prevalent throughout Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness, and album that left a profound impression on me. (After all, I was 12 when it was released and I first heard it.) The album is mammoth in scope and sonic breadth – alternately intimate and epic. Some songs include layers that I would now consider to be ambient-friendly, though at the time it wasn’t in my vocabulary. One example is the lush and often soaring layers atop the core band in “Porcelina of the Vast Oceans.” The song itself is good enough, but that layer greatly enhances the sonic depth and I’ve always been very attracted to it. Of course, such layering is different from the symphony orchestra employed in “Tonight, Tonight” (bravo Chicago Symphony Orchestra!), as the orchestra plays defined parts and lines. “Porcelina,” on the other hand, includes additional layers meant to simply add sonic presence and/or weight. If you eliminate the core song – vocals, rhythm & solo guitars, bass, drums – the remaining layers would themselves, to me, provide an enjoyable listening experience. While I may not have been able to precisely put my finger on it as a preteen, I know that part of the attraction to this song has always been my wanting to listen to and enjoy that layer in a vacuum.

Another SP song to do this, released a year later, is “Set the Ray to Jerry” from 1996’s MCIS b-side box set The Aeroplane Flies High. “Jerry” is nowhere near as grandiose as “Porcelina.” It’s a chill, contemplative, midtempo number – one of the band’s hidden gems. (The box set, originally printed as a limited edition, has now been reissued and I encourage SP fans without it to correct themselves.) The song begins with a quiet arpeggiated ostinato before the full band enters, and it remains throughout most of the song. And while its nowhere near the piece’s focus, like “Porcelina,” it dramatically improves the listening experience. Towards the end of the song, additional soaring-but-subtle guitar lines are added to drive – or, in this case, coast – things to a close.

There are many other examples from the entire Pumpkins catalogue from which to choose, but these are early examples that stuck out to me at the time, especially considering that Mellon Collie was the first full SP album I dug deep into. But many other SP songs can be argued to have either ambient-, space-, or drone-/noise-friendly qualities. Some are: the outro in “For Martha” (…and much of the rest of the drum machine-laden Adore), “Soma,” “Glissandra,” “Owata,” “Silverfuck” from Earphoria (utilizing pure noise in a live rock performance blew my early adolescent mind), the 23-minute Cage-ian “Pistachio Medley,” and much of MACHINA: The Machines of God, including the fabulous outro of “This Time.” And of course there’s the seemingly ubiquitous EBow…

Beyond the Smashing Pumpkins, Billy let these tendencies run rampant as well. An easy go-to would be his digital-heavy solo effort TheFutureEmbrace, which I described here. Also, Zwan, with its lineup featuring three guitarist, offered a richer sonic palette live than the Smashing Pumpkins, particularly on the epic “Mary, Star of the Sea.” In fact, droning nature of that song’s intro is something that, even now, my mind quickly goes to when in an ambient mood.

Interestingly, I’d be remiss if I didn’t that about a year ago Matt and I briefly discussed Robert Fripp, after which he sent me a video clip of him performing live. (A big name in ambient and non-ambient music, of course.) I don’t recall what it was specifically, but it instantly reminded me of Billy Corgan. I don’t know how much Fripp influenced Corgan specifically, but it’s interesting to somewhat reverse-engineer that lineage now, even if I’m largely speculating. (I know Billy likes David Bowie, but I’m unsure of King Crimson or Fripp alone.) And it was less than two months ago that I purchased Travis & Fripp’s Thread, an ambient album featuring guitar and sax/flute. Talk about coming full circle…

VIDEO: “Set the Ray to Jerry” live at Detroit’s Fox Theater 10.07.07. (I was there and pleasantly surprised that they played this one…)

(Photo: Smashing Pumpkins logo)