Category Archives: Performance

Pat Metheny Unity Group at Ann Arbor’s Michigan Theater

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.

Earnestness or Artifice? III

I’d like to revisit a topic touched on here and here: artistic intention and production. Below is the first half of a two-parter within this series. Two items tie these posts together:
– how each artist claims to feel about his craft.
– neither seem sincere.

This post, and a portion of the next, deal with practicing and rehearsing. As for rehearsing, I’ve been in groups at both edges of the spectrum: some ensembles rehearse meticulously and incessantly (though the two aren’t mutually exclusive), and others almost never rehearse for various legitimate reasons, instead relying on spontaneity and the excitement of the being in the moment while buoyed by foundation of shared history and skill. Sometimes, though, stating that one wants to forgo rehearsing in order to be “in the moment” isn’t entirely honest. Perhaps one just prefers not losing a Tuesday evening to a rehearsal. The same can be said of solitary practice. We musicians have all been there at one point or another. And I’ve definitely played in groups with people who’ve just said something to the effect of, “Eh, we’ll be good. I’d rather us sound too new than too rehearsed.” Of course, that can be performer-speak for, “I want to go home.” For an example of being disingenuous in this arena, let’s turn to Kelsey Grammer.

Television’s Dr. Frasier Crane, M.D. & Ph.D.? Yes, that one; but specifically the Kelsey Grammer of Frasier‘s tenure, not that of Cheers, Boss, etc. (And I’m only discussing him as a performer. He’s another in a long line of artists whose work must be assessed separately from their personal lives.) While he’s not a musical figure – at least not as much as Dr. Crane – he’s a performer and offers a particularly illuminating example that translates well to musical rehearsal and attitudes.

Frasier is one of my all-time favorite shows. (If you’re curious, it’s behind Seinfeld, Curb Your Enthusiasm, and Ally McBeal, and alongside John From Cincinnati and Fringe.) I’ve long been a fan, having watched the original run after Cheers. This isn’t a post to champion the show, but suffice it to say that it’s funny and features a strong cast. And, for the classical music-inclined, particularly in opera, the various references and allusions are quite entertaining. The characters portrayed by Grammer and David Hyde Pierce, and the relationship between to the two, are one of the program’s crown jewels.

As I’m wont to do when interested in a show or movie, I’ve spent more than my fair share of time in the past reading about the actors behind the characters, especially concerning their other credits, training (if applicable), and performance methods/quirks. I’ve long been fascinated with Grammer’s seemingly unique – in the truest sense of the word – acting method: “requisite disrespect.” He’s discussed it in some interviews (here and here), notably during Frasier‘s run, and in an autobiography. In his own words, “If you know what your lines are and you’re over-rehearsed, you’re not thinking anymore; you’re an automaton…So, I do myself a favor. I raise the stakes by making it real borderline that I know that I’m going to say. So, there’s a slightly wildeyed kind of energy when we tape [an episode].”

My initial reaction when I first read that was “Wow.” For me, it put a number of my favorite scenes and deliveries in an entirely new perspective. And for the most part I was quite impressed. However, moving on to a more objective assessment, I then realized the extent that which that really freed up his schedule. (This is rightly mentioned in the LA Times article.) While the rest of the cast and crew slogs through each week of finalizing, blocking, and rehearsing a new episode, Grammer need only appear on the night of the taping, “learning” each scene’s lines right before filming. On the one hand, it must’ve sucked to have been a guest star or co-star. On the other, more power to him. He acted well and managed to earn an eight-figure salary without rehearsing. While his co-stars somewhat endorse his methodology by talking about the on-set excitement and amazement, it’s worth noting that many of the co-stars seem to have close off-screen relationships with one another that often don’t include Grammer.

So why am I going on and on about this? Well, for starters, it’s my blog and I love Frasier. More importantly, though, the fact that Grammer burns calories actively describing his “method” of requisite disrespect is rather impressive in a sense. Instead of avoiding the topic, fibbing about rehearsing more, or just saying that he’s the star and doesn’t need to rehearse, he instead opts to label and therefore legitimize his tactics. And yet, if you’re to find another star that subscribes to the same approach using the same jargon, good luck. He’s the only one, so far as I can tell. What’s more, his methodology’s glory days coincided perfectly with his starring in his own television show, dominating prime time television for years. He doesn’t seem to reference using it when playing the same character on Cheers. And I don’t think he did it for Boss (another convincing portrayal, if I may say so). In fact, in a 2009 interview on the Adam Carolla Podcast, Dave Koechner glowingly described Grammer’s professionalism and preparedness when shooting a TV pilot (one that would’ve ostensibly put Grammer back on the map after Frasier‘s end). Curious, eh? Look, I’m a fan and I’ll watch anything he’s in, but a little less hot air is welcome.

Tord Gustavsen Quartet at Chicago’s Constellation

“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:

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

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

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