Category Archives: Misc

Etiquette & An Unexpected Journalistic Assist

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[UPDATE 05.21.14: David got in touch with me privately and was quite thoughtful and sincere, nullifying the below post.]

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I’m happy to report that, albeit in a very small way, I have possibly contributed to an article in The Boston Globe. More on that in a bit. I’d first like to say, however, that this post is simply about manners, if it’s about anything at all (beyond, perhaps, quasi-narcissistic neuroses). I often consider blogging about etiquette, as there never seems to be enough to go around, but this particular episode has provided the proper inspiration. Again, I’m only concerned with manners here. (I am in NOT suggesting plagiarism or anything of the sort AT ALL – my former students know how seriously I consider that charge to be…)

The Globe article in question is last week’s review of Miles Davis’s recently released Miles at the Fillmore – Miles Davis 1970: The Bootleg Series, Vol. 3. It appears as though I helped find source material for the opening passage. Neat! However, I didn’t know at the time because the small nugget of information I believe that I provided – or at least showed the way to – to the article’s author, Globe Correspondent David Weininger, went unthanked and ignored. I’m certainly making a mountain out of a molehill here, but it’s nonetheless curious and a bit annoying.

A few weeks ago I happened to see via Twitter that someone (Weininger, whom I was unfamiliar with at the time) was asking about a particular Keith Jarrett interview regarding a Miles anecdote. His question, retweeted by an account dedicated to ECM (Jarrett’s label of choice), grabbed my attention, as I immediately knew the answer. (My large Miles and Jarrett collections pay off in more ways than one, I suppose.) After quietly gloating to myself and quickly confirming the answer with my own copy of the interview, I checked online video sources (hence the YouTube mention) and answered. And, as you can see, I was at least the only one to respond publicly via Twitter (screenshot taken tonight from his page):
kjtwitter3

One retweet by @ECMSound and one reply from yours truly. That’s the extent of the whole thread. I had visited his Twitter feed a few times after that to see if anything came of it, but I never heard back and eventually forgot about it. Until this evening, that is, when I thought of it for no reason whatsoever. Returning to his feed, I was surprised to see the following succession of tweets from last week:
kjtwitter2

And if you click on the links to the actual article, you’ll see that that Miles anecdote is the first paragraph.

Now, should I have been cited in the article? Absolutely not – the very thought is absurd. But a simple reply of “thanks” (no capitalization or punctuation required!) or some other brief acknowledgement would’ve been great. And, who knows, perhaps Weininger found his answer elsewhere. Totally feasible, and I completely understand. Though, the aforementioned video of that interview is difficult to track down outside of sold, copyrighted media – hence my YouTube reference. It’s noteworthy that a quick Google search of that quote, for me, is topped by Weininger’s article, which is accurate, followed by some slightly paraphrased versions on websites of Miles quotes. (I just watched the interview on my DVD again to confirm the accuracy.) So he must’ve tracked down the legit video somewhere…

Even so, isn’t it polite to say “thank you”? In a similar crowdsourcing escapade last summer, Dr. Mark Berry asked his many followers (of which I’m one) for recommended recordings of Wagner art songs. It’s a positive case study, considering he already received his answer:
IMG_0527(Granted, I had had limited online interaction with Dr. Berry preceding this, but I doubt he could pick me out of a crowd despite the semi-annual RT.)

Again, my “role” in that review is tangential at best. If Weininger’s a head chef, then I’m a dishwasher…but he did ask for a clean salad bowl! Tonight I tweeted at David to see if he’d respond. He hasn’t yet, but he’s since been tweeting with others, so I’ll go ahead and green-light this post that I doubt he’ll see. And that’s unfortunate, because I really want to tell him something…

You’re welcome.

Pat Metheny Unity Group at Ann Arbor’s Michigan Theater

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On Monday evening I was fortunate enough to see Pat Metheny‘s Unity Group at Ann Arbor’s Michigan Theater. I had originally waffled on whether or not to attend for various personal reasons – none of which were a lack of interest – but a last-minute invitation from my new friend (and longtime fellow tweeter) Mark Jacobson kept me from missing out on a top notch performance. (Thank you again, Mark!)

I’ve been a fan of Metheny’s for a number of years but I’m by no means a completist. (Although, everything I have of his I quite like.) His current ensemble, the Pat Metheny Unity Group, is the quintet incarnation of the four-piece Pat Metheny Unity Band, which I saw at the 2012 Detroit Jazz Festival. The Band consists of Metheny, saxophonist Chris Potter, bassist (and fellow Spartan) Ben Williams, and drummer Antonio Sanchez, with the Group adding multi-instrumentalist and vocalist Giulio Carmassi. 2012’s self-titled Pat Metheny Unity Band is a really solid and often hard-driving jazz quartet album, including a little orchestrion treatment here and there. The Group, however, which just released Kin, explores vastly more sonic terrain. What was a quartet is now a five-piece orchestra, with the orchestrion regularly and tastefully integrated, and Carmassi providing varying instruments and textures. (Full disclosure: I hadn’t yet picked up Kin despite my intending to, but I surely will after seeing Monday’s show.)

The Michigan Theater’s vibe had more in common with a rock show than jazz, between the orchestrion-adorned stage and Metheny’s ecstatic fans. Kicking off Monday’s 2h45m set was, as Metheny described, an “opening set” of just the quartet, which features Band tunes “Come and See,” “Roofdogs,” and “New Year.” Don’t let the “diminished” forces fool you, though, as it’s a burning quartet. Potter and Metheny are intense, melodic powerhouses, with Williams and Sanchez providing and nimble but deep and grooving pocket. After about 40 minutes, Metheny addressed the audience and welcomed Carmassi (on piano, vocals, and percussion) to the stage, at which point the Group launched Michigan Theater deep into the sonic cosmos for two hours of exploratory, psychadelic, and at times face-melting jams that transcended genre. The set largely featured material from the new album, and the quintet almost sounded like a completely different ensemble from the quartet. Kin‘s tunes are compositionally more complex than its predecessor (which featured a more “traditional” jazz approach of head-solo-head, etc.), with each piece traversing various themes and textures. Later on in the set, Metheny featured each of his sidemen via an extended duet. His show-stopping and jaw-dropping rendition of Trane’s “Countdown” with Chris Potter was one of the night’s highlights. Like the original Coltrane recording, they waited until the very end to tease the melody, with the preceding minutes causing this saxophonist – and likely all other musicians in attendance – to question his existence and purpose. The Group ended end their main set with a rockin’ “Have You Heard” (sounding great with the added saxophone) followed by a full-band encore “Are You Going With Me” and a solo acoustic encore of an improvised medley of various tunes including “Last Train Home.”

I may not be a Metheny expert, but I’m familiar with his various projects over the years. And, from what I do know, the current PMUG is a near ideal synthesis of Metheny’s catalogue. It not only features new compositions that can be held up to its predecessors, but the band’s intense live sound also includes hints of Pat Metheny Group (especially with the use of voice – one of my favorite Metheny qualities, actually – and thick orchestration) and the Orchestrion Project (though tastefully used as a means and not an end). Shame on me for almost missing out on such a tremendous show. If the Group ends up in your neck of the woods during this year’s mammoth tour, I highly recommend attending. Not to be missed.

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.

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