VOTD 02/16/2025

 Willem Breuker Kollektief: Live in Berlin (BV Haast/FMP)

Once again, I can't recall where I bought this.

There's a hopefully antiquated idea that one has to be Black to really be able to play jazz. This isn't to overlook the fact that the music is fundamentally derived from the African American experience, and that most of the idiom's greatest artists are indeed Black. I'm happy to say I haven't heard anyone state that thought out loud for years.*

An old college friend had his variation on this idea: you didn't necessarily need to be Black to play jazz, but you did have to be American.

Well, that's just bullshit.

And again, this is not to overlook that jazz is a distinctly American creation. America has made several unique contributions to the arts, one of which is jazz music, another is the form of the comic book. Nobody's making the claim that you have to be American to be a great comic book writer and illustrator.

If anything, I think it's important to bring techniques and perspectives to jazz from people outside of the American experience. I want to hear more jazz (whatever that word even means) with artists from the Middle East, Asia, Northern Europe, Central Europe, the Balkans, people who could expand what Americans have come to know was "swing" and "groove". 

When I hear Willem Breuker's music, even if I didn't know better, I'd guess he was European. The marches! The well-known wacky Dutch humor! The orchestrations that don't sound like he's trying to imitate Ellington, Basie, or the Dorseys. 

Kurt Weill is definitely a reference point, though. The first time I saw the Kollektief (easily one of the best concerts I've ever attended), they began with a ripping, through-composed arrangement of Weill's "Cannon Song". That might be my favorite of song Weill's oeuvre, so I was immediately on board. On the second piece, the trombonist took a solo by crouching on all fours and barking like a dog. What sounds dumb came off as fresh and funny. I definitely didn't expect that. 

I really should find out more about Breuker's compositions. Four of the six tracks on this LP are taken from some sort of suite by him, La Plagiata. Breuker composed a number of longer-form compositions and suites, but I don't know much more than that. 

This is an early live session, recorded in 1975. None of the players' names are familiar, outside of the bandleader. Personnel: Breuker on saxophones and clarinets, with alto sax, tenor sax, flute, trumpet, two trombones, horn, piano, bass, and drums. Not too far from the instrumentation of one of my bands. All players with the exception of the bassist, get some sort of solo in the program. Once again I come back to a basic principle: if you collect great players, give them something to do. Feature them to their strengths.

It's interesting how divergent this music is from Robert Graettinger's, the subject of my post yesterday. I'd consider one no less serious than the other, but Breuker's humor is very much on the surface here. Graettinger was pulling the music closer to Schoenberg and pushing against the principle of tonality, whereas Breuker happily works within a tonal framework. (At least, most of the time.) And maybe most importantly, Graettinger left little room for improvisational input. Breuker, for as arranged as some of the music is, leaves space for his players and himself to blow.

Breuker lived longer than the tragically short life of Robert Graettinger (died at 33) but still passed entirely too young at 65. Thankfully there are many recordings of Breuker, and maybe it's time for me to do a deeper dive.

* I have had several people say to me, "You don't play like you're White." I know it's meant to be a compliment, even if I disagree with the principle. Usually I just smile and shrug my shoulders.

CDOTD 02/15/2025

 Bob Graettinger: City of Glass (Capitol Jazz)

Purchased new, probably at Borders

What constitutes "outsider" music? Outsider Art is a sort of established descriptor or category, with at least one museum devoted to the subject (The American Visionary Art Museum in Baltimore, which I can't recommend highly enough). Even then, the topic doesn't cover one single type of artist, whether it's driven primitives (Howard Finster, Adolf Wölfli, Judith Scott) or obsessives with highly developed technical skills (Joe Coleman, Alex Grey).

So too in Chusid's book, there are those who are primitive musicians with a complete lack of irony (The Shaggs, Wesley Willis) as well as schooled musicians with a particular obsession or drive (Harry Partch). It's through his book that I learned about Robert Graettinger, in the latter category.

Chusid describes him thusly: "He was convinced he could outwit the grim reaper with a steady diet of scrambled eggs, milk, and vitamins. He was an impotent alcoholic in a shabby wardrobe with concave cheekbones and a bad complexion." He died at 33 from lung cancer, due to no doubt heavy smoking and a terrible lifestyle.

I'm probably misquoting Gilda Radner as Rosanne Rosannadanna when she'd say, "You sound like a real catch!"

But I'm not here to comment on someone's appearance or lifestyle. This CD is a collection of Graettinger's music performed by the Stan Kenton Orchestra. Stan was an interesting figure himself, trying to navigate the popular big band world while at the same time attempting to create a more colorful and "serious" ensemble. It's no doubt that his interest in this so-called seriousness is why Graettinger had a job with Kenton.

This very principle of elevating jazz music to classical standards as a concert music has a history nearly as long as the music itself, and it's a tricky subject. Where does the music belong, why isn't jazz a high enough art form in and of itself? Paul Whiteman (heh heh, white man) commissioned Rhapsody in Blue; Debussy and Stravinsky wrote works inspired by early jazz; Ellington composed extended jazz concert works. At the same time, jazz improvisation is a sophisticated language in and of itself, without the need to be in some way elevated. And at the same time, there is room in the world for jazz or jazz-inspired works for the concert stage and not just the clubs.

Then there's the Third Stream movement, a term created by Gunther Schuller in 1957 to represent a kind of classical/jazz fusion or half-way point between the two. Graettinger's music was Third Stream before there was such a thing, predating Schuller's term by as much as a decade. Like Schuller's interests, Graettinger was more about drawing on modern techniques than trying to make the jazz orchestra sound like a 19th century Romantic orchestra. 

An immediate reaction to the works on this CD: there's very little improvisation. Most works are tightly composed or arranged. The ensembles are often augmented changed from standard big band instrumentation, including strings and several prominent French horn lines. (I think Kenton often used horns.) The music largely sits somewhere in an area of vaguely/ambiguously tonal to blatantly atonal. I'm thinking of the quote from I think it was Schoenberg, "the emancipation of dissonance" because it definitely applies to Graettinger's music. The second cut on the disc, an arrangement of "Everything Happens to Me" begins with an atonal-sounding introduction before breaking into the song proper with vocals with traditional harmonies. By contrast, the opening composition, "Thermopylae", has blasts of a cluster voicing over an ostinato, suggesting some anchoring to tonality (if somewhat ambiguous). It's funny that the piece was released on 78 as the B side of "The Peanut Vendor", one of Kenton's more popular singles. I wonder what people thought when they turned over the record?

There are a few of what I might call programmatic titles for his pieces, "Incident in jazz", "City of Glass" (four movements), "Modern Opus". But most titles are most minimal: "A Horn", "A Cello", "A Trumpet", "An Orchestra", "A Thought", "Some Saxophones". That suggests to me an intention of removing any non-musical associations from the music. To me it recalls Morton Feldman, who both created some great descriptive titles ("Triadic Memories") but also had many "still life" titles ("Piano Violin Viola Cello"). 

Dying as he did at age 33, once again I must ask, what might have Graettinger accomplished had he lived a long, full life? I can picture an academic post, a lecturer, maybe having written a book or two on composition and theory. I can picture him in discussions and debates with other "serious" composers. I'm certain he'd be better known and respected. What a shame, but at least there's this document. 

CDOTD 02/12/2025

VA: Beat at Cinecittà (Crippled Dick Hot Wax!)

Purchased used at Jerry's Records Future Zone

This blog isn't serious music journalism, criticism, nor musicology, so maybe I shouldn't apologize for making the narrative about me much of the time. As recently as yesterday I posted question about whether I had anything left to offer in this forum, yet here I am again.

Hardly a week goes by when I don't pay a visit to at least one of our local record and CD shops around Pittsburgh, and often more. You wouldn't know it to see my studio/mancave at home, but I go home empty handed more often than not. I didn't walk into Jerry's today intending to find anything in particular; that's probably not how Jerry's works anyway. If you're lucky, something you want or looks interesting turns up. Good stuff, even if the prices have largely increased since the time Jerry sold off the business, tends to move quickly. 

During those recent years, the 78 room was cleared out to make space for other non-LP media: CDs mostly, DVDs, laserdiscs, VHS tapes, cassettes, books, and other odds and ends. New CD adds are closest to the door.

You just don't know what will turn up. I recognized the tiny blimp on the spine of this disc for the Crippled Dick Hot Wax! label. This takes me back to a time when I worked for Borders for two or three years in the 1990s, the apex of compact discs as a popular medium, VHS just on its way out with DVDs just starting to quickly take over. Several items on that label turned up at the store which I probably bought with my employee discount (40% off for part time employees!). I don't remember this one in particular but we did have Jerry Van Rooyen's At 250 Miles per Hour, Gert Wilden's Schulmädchen Report, and particularly Manfred Hübler/Siegfried Schwab's Vampyros Lesbos: Sexadelic Dance Party. All European soundtrack collections.

I've seen Jess Franco's Vampyros Lesbos. The most memorable thing about it is the music cue used as the opening cut on the CD collection. Oh of their were beautiful nude women who I guess were vampires. There was also a scene with those Aurora monster models in it. Franco's not known for his tight plotting. Still, with a title like Vampyros Lesbos, you ought to come up with something memorable.

The subtitle to this particular collection reads: "A sensual homage to the most raunchy, erotic filmmusic of the Italian 60s & 70s cinema." That's a lot to live up to. Like I've quoted David F. Friedman before, "Sell the sizzle, not the steak." A number of these pieces, if you were to ask me the country of origin, I'd probably guess Italy. There's a certain sound to them, similar to how Italian films have a certain look to them. I've seen enough Italian horror movies that I feel I can guess if something's Italian by its look and production, and not just the clearly dubbed voices. 

What makes them sound Italian? There's the era for one thing, the swingin' 60s and 70s, with lounge-y blues-rock. Certain uses of guitar, especially as a trebly twangy lead instrument. And definitely the wordless vocals, scattered throughout these excerpts. Only one track is a song with lyrics, all other voices are vocalise. It's possible this overall Italian sound originates with Ennio Morricone's pop orchestrations, but I don't know enough on the topic to say that definitively. Morricone is nowhere to be found on this collection, but a single Bruno Nicolai piece is. Often on Morricone soundtracks, you'll see Bruno listed as the conductor. 

It's Riz Ortolani who appears most often here. Riz might be best known for his soundtrack for Mondo Cane, but the work I know better is Cannibal Holocaust. There's another example of me having listened to the soundtrack without ever having seen the film. (And I don't need to see it. It just looks gross and cruel. I don't feel like sitting through Hostel either.) The opening theme for CH is pure vocalise Italian pop, followed by a really grimy, ugly minimal synthesizer cue. Very strange. 

I guess part of my personal attraction to sitting down with these soundtracks and collections is the weirdness of them when they're separated from the visuals. Plus it's a different era, and a country besides the US, it all contributes to it feeling alien to my experience in 2025. That's a good thing. If Sabrina Carpenter, Chappell Roan, and Taylor Swift are the state of popular music these days, I'll gladly stay in the past.

The woman at the register was enthusiastic when she saw I was buying this, and said there were more sold off by the same person to be put out. I guess I know where I'm going Tuesday when they put more stock in the new bins.

VOTD 02/11/2025

Matching Mole: Matching Mole's Little Red Record (CBS)

I don't remember where I bought this.

I suppose one of the pleasures of a sizable collection of LPs and CDs is not remembering that I owned something. Have I bought duplicates of anything unintentionally? Not many things, but it's true. There are some records that come in series, such as the Spectrum series on Nonesuch, that have covers similar enough that I don't always remember if I have a particular issue. I've learned, yes I probably do have a copy, and even if I don't, don't spend the money unless it seems essential.

I knew this record from my college radio days. I can't recall if I was told or read about it, or if I came across it in my thorough hunting through the WRCT record library. The attraction would have been Robert Wyatt's name primarily. 

It's poignant that I think Robert's best work is after he became a paraplegic. He drunkenly fell out of a building, losing the use of his legs. If he sounds like he has the saddest voice ever heard, he's certainly earned it.

If you didn't know, Matching Moles is a play on the name of his former band Soft Machine (I mean itself a direct WS Burroughs reference). In French, the name is "machine molle." There's no hiding their political leaning, both the title and the blatantly Maoist cover painting of the band. This in itself seems amazing given the current times politically. Not that this music could attract the attention of even a minor subsidiary of a major label now, but the blatantly Communist images would have been a non-starter. I mean, you could find some way to get it released in this form, but my guess is you'd be on your own.

Somewhat similar to Soft Machine, the music sits in a place somewhere between Canterbury-scene prog leanings and jazz-rock. It's a good record but I get the sense that CD length might have done them well on this. A little more room to stretch might have done the music some good, but who knows? Maybe the LP length reeled them in from going too excessive, kept the results tighter. The group only lasted as long as two LPs before disbanding, Robert's accident happening later.

There are some odd touches to this that says it's a studio project and not simply a document of the band playing, specifically quiet voices speaking in spots in groups. Brian Eno makes a synth appearance on side two. There's an odd, slight pitch shift and what sounds like a loop near the end of side two that's a studio creation for sure. The pieces run together and are generally not discreet songs, making identification difficult. At moments, when Robert's singing, the music wouldn't have been out of place on Rock Bottom. 

I don't recall if I noticed that Robert Fripp is credited as producer. This would have come at an interesting time for him too, in that general time frame when the Boz Burrell/Mel Collins/Ian Wallace band was winding down, and the Wetton/Cross/Bruford/Muir lineup was forming. 

Robert Wyatt is an excellent drummer, by the way. I'm not fond of how the drums are recorded/produced here, they sometimes sound flat and almost muted at times. Maybe it's an accurate capture of his sound. I can't strike it up to the state of the art of recording though; Bill Bruford's drum set always sounded amazing on Yes records: tight and snapping. I even believe the first problem with Tales From Topographic Oceans is Alan White's dead and thuddy-sounding kit. 

I am starting to wonder again if I'm running out of steam on this blog, whether I really have anything to say and it's not just an empty exercise. However, if it meant I picked out this record for a good re-listen, then at least there's that.

VOTD 02/10/2025

 Emil Beaulieau: Abusing the Little Ones (Self Abuse)

I can't recall where I bought this. I note this under the title because at one time I could told you where I bought most of my individual records, but no longer.

If one of the basic tenets of punk rock was to learning to play an instrument by forming a band first, where does that put noise artists? To go from unrepentant instrumental primitivism to no discernable skill whatsoever?

I feel like this is something I've covered in previous blog postings, so I'll avoid prattling on too long on this subject now. 

The most interesting "noisicians" have skills, but they're necessarily in any way traditional. Some of it might have to do with synth patching, audio editing, or at least new and creative ways to put together sound-generating electronics. And even if their intention is to annoy or even crush the listener with sound, there has to be an ear for getting interesting results.

Unfortunately, sometimes the imagery or subtext these people use is reprehensible. I know there's an argument to be made for unsettling imagery to accompany unsettling music, but often find that too easy. I don't need to see autopsy or medical atrocity photos, and that's assuming the person involved isn't flirting with fascist or even blatant Nazi imagery. I mean seriously, I think it's fair to assume Hitler would not have approved of your recordings, if his regime banned jazz and too many syncopated rhythms. And really, think about that: a government agency banning a musical rhythm. Those Nazis sure were fussy.

Okay, while Nazis of any era are thoroughly worthy of ridicule, I also don't want to treat the subject too lightly either. 

Emil Beaulieau: AKA Ron Lessard of RRRecords out of Lowell, Mass. It's no secret that one is the other. Ron told me that Emil was actually the mayor of the small town in New Hampshire where he grew up. And who was going to know or complain?

Abusing the Little Ones is definitely intended as a provocative title, but it refers to Ron manipulating and reworking of a series of 7" records on the same Self Abuse label. Of the eight noise bands worked over, only the names Atrax Morgue and Crawl Unit are familiar to me, the latter being a generally noisy drone project.

I know the intention of some of these....what do I call them? Musicians? Broadly stated it's true, but I'm sure some would bristle at the description. "Noise artists", even if I've used it above, seems clinical. But whatever you call them, bludgeoning the listener with sound seems to be a frequent objective. That requires volume. But ironically, I sometimes enjoying listening to records like this at a relatively low volume and find them relaxing. Maybe it's a similar thing to people who listen to white or pink noise generators at a low volume aid with sleeping.

A detail about this record I like: side one ends with a lock groove. Turn the record over, the audio on side two begins with the same passage. Renaldo and the Loaf's Songs for Swinging Larvae does something similar. Another reason I continue to like vinyl records.

02/09/2025

 The Monkees: Head OST (Rhino)

Purchased used at Vinyl Remains

Superbowl, Superbowl, Superbowl. The closest I come to caring is that I'd rather see Philadelphia win than Kansas City, for no particularly good reason. That's about as much passion I can muster. I like to say that my general distaste for American football originates with having watched five seasons of my high school's generally bad team from the band bleachers. To be fair to them, they played teams from generally much larger schools. And to be fair to myself, I probably wouldn't care too much about football anyway. 

So, put on a record, blog some thoughts, possibly finish the Dune book I'm reading (#3). Looking for something to put on, I was unsure if I had listened to this one completely. 

I think it was Michael Weldon (Psychotronic Encyclopedia of Film) suggested watching Head to see The Monkees perform "careericide." I suppose the plotless, trippy feature would endear them to a certain audience in the long run, but this wasn't the cute quasi-sitcom from network TV that I'm sure many expected at the time.

I've seen I think two of those made for TV documentaries about The Monkees. The creation of impresario Don Kirshner, he specifically wanted a 100% image band that he could control completely. So what happens when the band rebels and decides to go their own path? What happens when a manufactured band becomes a real band?

I'm naturally inclined to side with them over Kirshner, but as with most things in life, the truth is a little more nuanced. They did sign up to be part of a television program playing a fictitious rock band. The instigator is acknowledged to be Mike Nesmith, who was starting to establish himself as songwriter outside of The Monkees. He'd later pen The Stone Poneys hit "Different Drum". In one of the docs, Don said he rued the day he met Mike Nesmith. 

But you know, what did he expect? They were talented singers (mostly), it was an era of questioning authority, it comes as little surprise that they'd want to be treated like adults and artists. Kirshner would later score a 100% image band by co-creating The Archies. 

What of the music, this record? It starts strangely enough with a musique concrète edit of clips from the film, not the way to start a pop album in the least. Even The Beatles put "Revolution #9" in the middle of the album. Of the six proper songs on the album, two were written by Peter Tork, one Mike Nesmith. Tork's "Do I Have To Do This All Over Again" is a fairly strong 60s rocker, as is Nesmith's "Circle Sky". "Daddy's Song", written by Harry Nilsson, is an okay song but always kind of struck me as a take on Paul McCartney's "Your Mother Should Know" from Magical Mystery Tour.

I find the standout is the opening/closing song for the film, "Porpoise Song" cowritten by Carole King. There's a demo recording of her singing the song, probably on Youtube somewhere. It's slow and dreamy, interesting chord progression, with an orchestral arrangement that again recalls what George Martin did with The Beatles. In this case I don't consider it a knock, I like the orchestration.

I guess the question with The Monkees, or any music for that matter, is: if you like it, does the source matter? It's easy to look down on their early recordings as prefab, but some of the songs are quite good. They had excellent songwriters working for the show. Ironically, in this age of the mega pop star, those vocalists all seem manufactured to me. I don't know one voice from another, and the vocals are so thoroughly processed that I don't think it matters. The songwriting is often by committee. It's as though they're trying to be a package the way that The Monkees were intended to be, whereas The Monkees strived to break out of that box. 

VOTD 02/06/2025

 Anthony Braxton: Creative Music Orchestra 1976 (Arista)

Purchased used decades ago

Back to Braxtonia.

Forgive me for namedropping Anthony yet again. After I worked with him in 2008, I returned to graduate school. I was flush with excitement from the experience, and devoted at least one of my assigned papers to his work. 

There was an interview I read in my research I intended to paraphrase in my previous blog post, but failed to do so. (These missives are largely unplanned and come close to an improvisation in themselves.) What he said was effectively that there was an essential challenge considered by some creative musicians of his era. The push in jazz was that the music had grown increasingly fiery. Once you get to Coltrane (and Shepp and Sanders), how much more fiery could you really go? Instead, some of his early work goes in the opposite direction: small, intimate, pointillist. Consider his debut LP on Delmark with a lineup of Leroy Jenkins, Wadada Leo Smith, and Muhal Richard Abrams, as well as his two BYG LPs, one can see this idea played out. It must have also been confounding to some people; where's the jazz?

Point being: For Trio (Composition 76) definitely is an extension of this idea. However, if you know his mid-70s quartet recordings though, there's fire aplenty. The quartets with Dave Holland, Barry Altschul, and either Kenny Wheeler or George Lewis, could blow flames with the best of them. I recommend Quartet (Dortmund) 1976 (unreleased until 1991) for a particularly good example.

Then there's this album. I guess at one time, similar to Ornette a generation or so earlier and John Zorn a few years later, there was the lingering question of whether Anthony actually knew what he was doing. If you wanted to provide evidence to the prove he did, it was probably this session. Braxton in his personal lexicon eschewed the term "big band" in favor of "creative music orchestra." The instrumentation is more-or-less similar to a big band throughout, even if track two (Comp. 56) includes clarinets, contrabass clarinet, soprano saxophone, timpani, and no standard drum set. 

The music itself covers a wide range of expression. It's programmed with every other work being either upbeat or more pointillist/textural. Atonal bop - - chorale and points - - march - - more points with group voicings - - more atonal bop - - long tones with and textures and yes, more points.

It's fair to say that the standout piece ends side one, his Sousa-inspired march. It starts almost shockingly straight forward, but heads into more Braxton-ish territory for solos, with a rousing (and again traditional) closing.

I've always loved this piece dearly. It's as openly funny as Braxton gets, but there's no doubting that he enjoys marches. I managed to get my hands on an arrangement of the score and played the piece with OPEK twice; the first (and better) time is posted to Youtube.

He shared with me one anecdote from that session. The percussionist wasn't playing the bass drum part correctly. Frustrated, pianist Fred Rzewski took the mallet and read the part down, enabling the ensemble to get through that tough passage. 

In the liner notes of the Creative Orchestra (Köln) 1978, the liner notes refer to the march as "the greatest closer ever." I'd love to play it again but it would require more rehearsal. Really, a dream show of mine would be to play this album in its entirety, plus maybe add one or two more recent creative music orchestra pieces into the mix. But such a show would cost a lot of time and money, and if I'm going to throw money at a vanity performance, I'll make it my own music. 

But no question, if I did stage such a show, we'd end with the march.