Category Archives: Performance

Artistic Direction & “Choice” (TPK Edition)

 

Having moved back to Michigan, I’ve resumed collaborating with my good friend and partner Matt Borghi full time. We’ve been working together for a few years – performing, improvising, rehearsing, recording – both in The Elevator Conspiracy and in various separate endeavors. We understand each other quite well, musically and personally, which makes playing together a real treat. That, coupled with our eclectic collective taste and experience, helps to make us a pretty versatile duo.

Our current project – Teag & PK – is still in its beginning stages but the initial discussions, rehearsals, and performance (pictured above) have all been interesting, surprising, and satisfying, both intellectually and artistically. One facet of our discussions revolved around style and direction. Our past collaborations have gone in a variety of directions: acoustic folk, electronic ambient, rock, mostly improvised, mostly arranged – diverse, but all satisfying. Therefore we discussed whether we’d focus on one style or have an “anything goes” approach. In preparation for our first gig, we decided to head in an acoustic (acoustic guitar, voice, saxophones/flute), singer/songwriter direction.

But, for a variety of reason – gear, environment, where the live energy eventually took us – our first gig quickly evolved from an acoustic “folk” style to something much more rhythm & blues- (the real R&B) and rock-based. We were quite surprised, and rather happy with it. That particular style hadn’t entered our discussions once, yet, without even acknowledging it to one another on stage, we enthusiastically went where the music asked us to go. Now, with that gig behind us, we’re looking at our project from completely different angles, and considering options possibilities we previously hadn’t.

It just goes to show that no amount of planning or decision-making is fully effective in a vacuum. (Even with so much time and effort already spent…) We were aware of this abstractly all along – we had a number of “let’s see how this goes live” moments in rehearsal – however it was still surprising to have such a powerful reminder on stage. We had considered many things, but they all went back to what we – Matt and myself – wanted. It may sound corny, but we hadn’t fully considered what the music itself wanted, and that vote holds the ultimate veto pen. While there are still a number of kinks to work out, we’re excited to see what upcoming gigs over the next couple months hold in store for us…

George

George Carlin’s birthday was a little over one week ago. He would have been 74. Now, I strive to keep this a music-oriented blog despite my other deep interests (politics/current events and stand-up comedy). However, Carlin is worth mentioning here because he’s artistically relevant to one of this blog’s recurring topics: aesthetic authenticity.

Without getting too deep into it, I consider him to be one of the greatest minds and voices of the twentieth century. Seriously. (I have all of the HBO specials and most of the albums to prove it. 🙂 ) Yes, he was “a comic.” But he was also so much more. Though there were strains of it when we started out in the 50s, eventually his material was more akin to philosophical, linguistic, satirical, and political essays peppered with jokes, as opposed to a series of one-liners mixed in with anecdotes. It didn’t matter whether or not you agreed with his point of view; the goal was to open the listener’s mind to new ways of analyzing topics or issues. This is something he was very consciously aware of, as evidenced in this interview, during which he says he eventually considered himself an essayist who performed.

Last year I read Last Words (his autobiography, published posthumously), and was struck by just how obsessed he was throughout his career with identifying and honing what he called “my authentic voice.” This of course is arguably the primary dilemma for an artist – truly expressing oneself. Whether you’re a fan or not, this book serves as a masterclass of sorts in authenticity. In case you’re unfamiliar, Carlin started out as a very straight-laced, mainstream, and commercially successful act in the 1950s.The 70s, however, saw Carlin reintroduce himself as the real George: hippie, counter-culture provocateur, and social critic. Two excerpts from the cleverly-titled chapter “The Long Epiphany” wonderfully distill this process:

1. “But mainly I had to explain myself to me. What had been pulling at me all this time, dragging me away from the old approach and toward the new, was the lack of my voice in my work. The absence of me in my act. I would say, ‘I wasn’t in my act. I was all these other people.’ And I would introduce them all, the old familiar characters, one by one, to make the point.” (p. 146)

2. “I would no longer deal with subjects that were expected of me, in ways which had been determined by others. I would determine the ways. My own experiences would be the subject. I went into myself, I discovered my own voice and I found it authentic. So, apparently, did the audiences in the coffeehouses I was now playing. And while I was back to making no money, when they laughed now it felt great. I was getting votes of confidence for the path I had taken. They were reaffirming something that I felt and now was able to think through as well as feel. It meant I was right. Which strengthened my resolve to carry this through.” (p. 152)

[Note: Imagine my surprise, and joy, in reading Dave Liebman’s endorsement of this book for similar reasons in his May newsletter a few weeks ago.]

These words ring as true for me now as they did upon first read. It’s great – necessary – to have influences, and it’s equally important to emulate them. However, eventually one must move beyond his/her influences and training to develop the inner voice that’s dying to get out. I implied this in an earlier post, and hope to delve deeper into the topic at some point. For now, though, I simply want to highlight George…

I was fortunate to see Carlin perform live three times. It was very interesting for me, both as a fan and as a performer, because all three performances were in preparation for what became his final HBO special, It’s Bad For Ya (2008). For context, the actual special was recorded March 1, 2008. The performances I saw were as follows: January 2007 (Ann Arbor, MI), July 2007 (Las Vegas, NV), March 2008 (East Lansing, MI). I note this because I was able to see the material develop from scattered notes to a scripted, seamless 60+ minute performance. It was a tremendous peek into Carlin’s creative process. Some highlights:
January 2007: He informally took the stage with a stack of loose notes and papers and prefaced this show with (I’m paraphrasing): “You’ll have to excuse me, as this won’t be like the shows you’re used to seeing on HBO and hearing on record. I have a whole new hour of material, in no particular order, and I don’t know just how any of them work just yet. This is more of a test drive, but I promise you’ll laugh.” AND I DID! That night was one of the hardest I’ve ever laughed. But he was true to his word – it was more akin to alternative comedy than Carlin’s traditional style of rapid-fire storytelling and joke-telling. He would take a paper from his stack, remind himself of the joke/outline, extemporize, then move on to the next note.
July 2007: No notes; a cold open with no disclaimer. Six months later, the material was now in its third or fourth draft. You could tell that there was a set order and that he was working out the rhythm. Also, a number of topics were dropped, while a few new ones had been incorporated. Just as funny. 🙂
March 2008: By this time, the HBO special had been taped/aired (live). Carlin’s trademark style had returned, and the show was by then a well-oiled machine. The material’s order had once again been changed, but the overall content remained unchanged. Final draft, no further revision. Vintage GC.

So, a few nuggets of GC info and memories. To close, I’d like to highlight arguably my favorite Carlin essay (as I’m sure he considered it). It addresses his favorite topic: language. Specifically, it’s an all-out assault on one of his worst enemies: euphemisms. Part of his obsession with language was that because we think in language, then the better and clearer we use language the better we can convey our thoughts. I’ve gone through it probably 100 times (the live performance from 1990’s Doin’ It Again is priceless) and find it just as funny and thought-provoking as the first.

George Carlin: Euphemistic Language

*Update*: Here’s the live version form Doin’ It Again (slightly NSFW):

DSO: Conflicted, Supportive, Rather Embarrassed

(Beware: quasi-rambling free-write below.)

For those of you with at least one foot in the classical music arena, this season’s drama surrounding the Detroit Symphony Orchestra should be old hat by now. Being some divorced from the debate since moving to TX, I’m by no means an expert in this topic. Briefly:

• Because of budget strains, orchestra management demanded a pay cut for the orchestra’s contract renewal
• The orchestra refused the offer, negotiations ensued, the orchestra went on strike at the end of Summer 2010
• Negotiations continued; performances were initially canceled individually as their respective dates approached, with the remaining season canceled outright in its entirety a few weeks ago
• Just a couple days back, the entire percussion section quit
• Today, the orchestra suggested arbitration, leaving the situation in temporary limbo

NOTE: The current, unfortunate culture war dogfight in Congress over NEA, etc. funding is a completely separate issue. (Some have been confusing the two.)

Again, I don’t know every detail of the past 6 months. I can say that my initial reactions were mostly sympathetic for the DSO and the city of Detroit. DSO is an institution, one of the few orchestras in the country in which a musician can make a comfortable, respected living. Not only is it Michigan’s top orchestra, but it’s also a top tier ensemble under the baton of a world-class conductor (Leonard Slatkin). Detroit has suffered immensely, especially in the last few years, so this was just more salt on the wound. The Motor City has such a rich musical history, and this cultural blow was the last thing the city needed. What’s next, the cancelation of the Detroit Jazz Festival?

Note: I said mostly sympathetic…

I don’t claim to represent “blue collar culture” or anything of the such, but I almost always try to keep the “other”/”non-musician” view in mind. So many musicians, especially classical, tend to have a narrow with-us-or-against-us view of music and art as a whole. It’s disturbing, and frankly sad. A big reason for my focus on Music Appreciation and working with “non-majors” (gasp!) is that I’d like to serve as a “Goodwill Ambassador” of sorts from the “arteratti.” (“Hey, we’re not all bad. See?”) As I tell every student every semester, classical music is the popular music of yester-century. Music is music.

In classical music’s defense, part of what sets it apart is the intense amount of training required. Virtuosity is key, more so than in a number of other styles. The average professional pop/rock band has 4-5 capable, (likely) primarily self-taught musicians. The average professional symphony orchestra has 80+ highly skilled musicians, each having incessantly practiced his/her 10,000+ hours. (These hours were both free and paid for in the university/conservatory.) As a result, it’s reasonable for professional, trained musicians to be compensated well for their time and talent. (Any reader of this blog should know I champion paying for music, which includes paying the musicians.)

BUT…

Money:
Taken from today’s NYT ArtsBeat article:
“In its most recent offer management set base minimum pay at $80,200, rising to $81,200 by the third year of the three-year contract. The musicians would each have the option of earning an additional $7,100 a year if they chose to take part in extra duties like community and educational concerts… The minimum salary in the last contract was $104,650…”

Here is where I start to roll my eyes. Yes, I completely understand: a ~20% pay cut stings regardless of tax bracket. However, what many “non-majors” may not grasp is that this seemingly full-time salary is for a less-than-full-time job. (See above paragraph — part of musicians’ high pay is to compensate for the high skill level & training.) They’re not rehearsing/performing 40 hours a week. And they’re not always practicing their concert music 40 hours/week either. A big portion of an orchestra’s seasonal repertoire is just a recycling of the typical symphonic Top 40. (Hey, you need to give the audience something familiar now and again.)

Furthermore, this salary is not the entirety of each musician’s yearly income. Consider this: most professional musicians also teach – private studios, university faculty, guest artist masterclasses – and play other freelance/steady gigs on the side with other ensembles. (Note that the “additional $7100” mentioned above is probably less than each musician makes yearly doing those same tasks on their own as freelancers.) For some musicians, this recent $100K was likely a majority of their yearly income. For others, it could have been half. Seriously. 20% is one thing. 20% of XX% is another.

CELEBRITY/DIGNITY:
Given all the training, specialization, sacrifice, etc. mentioned above, musicians aren’t breaking their backs. (Unless they have poor posture, from which I used to suffer.) It’s not manual labor. We’re lucky to create art for a living. Not everyone gets to express for money.

I’ve had a number of summer jobs in the past. One was construction, specifically concrete. That was back-breaking labor. Horrible. So was fast food. So when I played “full time” (i.e., playing 2-3 hours each night) on a cruise ship for twice the pay of all the onboard manual labor (i.e., working 10+ hours each day, 7 days a week, 6 months at a stretch), I felt humbled. I had no room to complain. None. I was improving my jazz chops and getting paid to travel. A number of the singers in the department (who performed 3 nights/week), however, felt different, and regularly complained for higher pay and bigger spreads backstage. Sick of hearing it, I ultimately exploded at a department meeting, asking why they felt so entitled. How could they, in their right minds, think they deserve so much when they “worked” so little? It didn’t hit home with them, but it’s stuck with me ever since. The diva mentality runs rampant in our musician culture, and it’s partially to blame for the layperson’s perception of musicians as lazy with a false sense of entitlement.

DSO drama may not be national news, but this country’s near-incomprehensible economic crisis has been for years. Most everyone has sacrificed, whether they wanted to or not. Layoffs, foreclosures, constant ~9% unemployment, lost wealth, and seemingly crumbling middle class aren’t a good recipe for organization reliant on public donations (read: symphony orchestras). Add to that, most orchestras have seen their audiences age and plateau/dwindle in recent years. There is simply not enough money as there used to be, and every needs to tighten their belts. Economists aren’t using the term “new normal” for their health. No magic math will solve this issue. If an orchestra is to continue, then the musicians better tighten their cummerbunds as well. SHARED SACRIFICE is a large part to the solution to not only the orchestra’s problems, but the country’s as a whole. (What if – GASP! – fewer snacks were included in the backstage spread??? Or none?!?!?!? Madness!!!)

—

I obviously have no solution, large or small, to the DSO’s problems. Or any orchestra for that matter. However I do know that when I read much of my peers’ quasi-partisan support of the DSO, I’m only half-nodding in agreement. The other half is wincing in embarrassment. It’s time we all descend the ivory tower and put ourselves in context. Maybe then musicians would start to gain more support…

New Release (thanks to technology)!

In case you’re unaware (though since you probably got here via my main website, I doubt it’s the case), I’m featured on a new work by close friend/collaborator Matt Borghi which was released Monday on VagueTerrain.net.  Because of Matt’s consistent, quality, selfless work in the ambient realm, he was chosen as the debut feature artist for VagueTerrain’s new music series.

I bring this up for two reasons:
1. Shameless plug 🙂
2. The collaborative portion of this release actually took place after my recent move from East Lansing, MI to Houston, TX.

Matt had the piece about wrapped up and wanted to incorporate my playing, but we had largely shrugged it off because of deadlines and my move.  However, amidst the chaos that was my apartment (I’d only been moved in one week), I managed to set up a quiet space for my iMac and saxophones.  He then uploaded an hour’s worth of material to a cloud, then commenced to download and noodle around.  Within a matter of three to four days I had recorded a bunch of material to send back to him.  Days later, voila!  He and I went from living just a couple miles down the road from one another to 1200+, yet we were still able to make music together.  It’s amazing what modern, easily accessible technology allows!

Of course, it’s crucial to remember that prior to this, Matt and I already had two years of close collaboration – both with The Elevator Conspiracy, and in a number of duo endeavors – which really helped the process.  Even though I was alone in my apartment, my familiarity with Matt’s sensibilities and direction guided helped to guide my way.  We definitely wouldn’t have been able to do our separate parts (in the “collaborative” sense) without that prior knowledge and experience.

We have a number of other, older recordings (including another ambient one, that a live performance) on his website – I’ll also get them to mine soon, hopefully.   However, if you have a chance, do check out our (his, really) new release.  We’ve received quite a bit of positive feedback already, and are looking forward to doing more of this in the future!

Readiness

“Ready or not.” That easily summarizes my first experience with improvisation. Jazz was a foreign concept to me and I found myself enrolled in the “Beginning Jazz” class at Blue Lake Fine Arts Camp. The instructor spent an hour discussing what appeared to be rocket science. (Later, I realized it was simply beginner’s jazz theory, and that often chords by the name of “dominant” were used. Who knew?) After this crash course in Confusing Symbols 101, a rhythm section started to play and the teacher started pointing at each student to take a solo. Upon my turn, I simply stared back at him wide-eyed, frightened, and embarrassed. I maybe played two notes. By the end of the week I had progressed to about seven. Ready or not – there’s much to be said for that. Often the best way to learn is to be thrown in head first.

However, readiness rarely gets its due. As a result of the above experience, I completely avoided jazz for another ten months before attempting to tackle it with my private teacher. I had wanted to ever since my failure of a debut at camp but was too embarrassed (even though no one I knew saw me crash and burn). I was interested but far from ready.

Conversely, last week I practiced some flute etudes (on saxophone) by Benoit Berbiguer. I had gone through them in graduate school at my professor’s request, but I was far from interested at the time. I begrudgingly got through them, often wishing to practice other material. However, last week’s work on the etudes was far more productive because I was interested and ready. Instead of going through the motions I had a vested interest, and my practicing reflected that.

The moral of course is not to never leave your comfort zone but to become aware of your boundaries, interests, and readiness. Such awareness can be a wonderful, intuitive guide to improvement.