Recent dream

 I don't normally remember my dreams, but last Saturday I had one that was especially vivid. It concerned my band OPEK. I think we were to play a gig at a group home, with us playing on the floor. For some reason I had to leave, drove my car off, and returned before the show was over.

When I arrived back, my music was not ready and I frustratingly had to pick through a large pile of papers to try to find my part for whatever we were playing. I couldn't find any. In frustration, I called "Boogie Stop Shuffle" because I figured I'd be able to do enough of it from memory.

Despite playing it many times before, I had to stop the performance twice because the band couldn't follow instructions and was playing the piece completely wrong. After the second stop, I saw that the time was a few minutes before 3pm and it was almost time for the gig to end. So I gave up. 

Real time, there are no OPEK gigs on the books with none planned, which is not to say I don't have some potential plans for the future that I'm mulling over. We'll see. The dream seemed like an amplified version of some of my frustrations leading up to some gigs.

Tree of Life, part two

 October 27, 2018, 11am.

 

I remember it was specifically 11. My wife Norma had a volunteer duty she wanted to make at 11:30, and she was just leaving. I was in my grey gym sweats, not having changed into my day clothes.

 

She opened our front door, and there are SWAT officers out in the street. They yelled over that there was an active shooter situation, that she was go get inside and lock the door.

 

I made a point of staying calm. I looked out the back window, locked the back door, and tried to find some local news coverage. I hunted around on cable, but found nothing local being broadcasted. 

 

A few minutes later, her sister Chris called to say that our neighborhood was on CNN. It was not only on CNN, but was being covered on all the cable news networks. So there was Tree of Life, our backyard neighbor, from a helicopter view, with little information other than there was a shooting involved.

 

No later than quarter after 11, there was a SWAT officer with tactical weaponry on our little side porch. It was very lightly drizzly raining. We said hello to one another, but I largely left him to his business. Shortly after that, I noticed two more officers behind my neighbor Lucy’s house. Her backyard separates ours from the main temple of the synagogue.

 

I think it was about twenty minutes past the hour, no more than thirty, that the New York Times called. They asked for me by name, Benjamin Opie. I described what little I knew, how upsetting it all was. After all, it was my neighbors in that building.

 

I didn’t ask, but I figured out how they came to contact me. They must have looked up the property lots online, found an owner’s name, then looked up my number on directory service. I was probably the only person they found nearby with an active landline, at home during the 11 o’clock hour on a Saturday. Most of my nearby neighbors would have been in temple at the time themselves.

 

The former president would have you believe that nobody pays attention to the Times any more. I want to say that nothing could be further from the truth. The first article, with my name and quotes, was posted online before the hours’ end. I heard back from numerous people, including a friend in Australia and Henry Grimes’ wife Margaret. She called, wanted to know that I was okay. I was so mixed up, I didn’t figure out who she was until we ended our phone call.

 

It was some time around 11:45 (+/-) that the officer told us that the shooter had been taken into custody. We knew a good half hour before it was publicly announced. I watched as a camo-wearing group of SWAT officers did a sweep around the perimeter of Tree of Life, weapons drawn. We just weren’t told if there was more than one person, but now it was clear there was only a single gunman. We were still told to stay inside at least until 12:30, if not later. 

 

I’ve retold these circumstances so many times, they seem very concrete. The next day, several days, becomes more of a blur. After my name was online in the NYT article, later that day I received calls from the Washington Post, Wall Street Journal, Boston Globe, ABC News. Maybe more. The next day the Daily Beast called, and I was interviewed in my backyard by channel 5 Tel Aviv. After those, my wife said, “Don’t talk to any more of those people.” I was done with them even if she hadn’t said anything.

 

So picture if you will, if you don’t know the streets around me. Tree of Life sits on Wilkins Ave, at the corner of Shady Ave. Travel a short block south on Shady, and you intersect with Solway St. That’s where I live, near the intersection. Shady was blocked from all traffic for several days, and Wilkins in front of Tree of Life was sectioned off for more than a week. I had to enter and exit my street at the other end of the block, and even then I had to show ID at the corner to go home. 

 

Those are the basic circumstances of that day. I suppose there’s not that much to tell really. It does make me feel closer to the circumstances than even if I was across the same neighborhood. 

I've been writing this quickly, with little editing. I'll follow up with more details, and what happened in the following days, in a future post.

 

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Morton Feldman: Rothko Chapel. It’s not intended as an elegy or requiem. It’s inspired by the titular meditative space. Feldman said it had echoes of the synagogue in it. It seems like the right piece for today.

 

Tree of Life, part one

Wednesday, October 26, 2022. As I write this, it is the day before the anniversary of the Tree of Life shooting.

 

If you know me, you probably know that I am of neighbor of that synagogue. My property doesn’t quite border its land; there is a neighbor’s yard in between. Nonetheless, as I look out onto my back yard, most of what I see is the main temple.

 

I am not a witness to the shooting. I didn’t directly hear or see anything. I am a witness to many of the circumstances around Tree of Life that day and afterwards. My story is ancillary at best.

 

I did not have the trauma of being an eyewitness of the events on October 27, 2018. I am not Jewish and cannot claim it was an attack against “my people.” However, these were my neighbors. I knew one of the people killed (Irv Younger) and would have recognized several of the others.

 

I intend to make several blog posts in the next few days recalling the events on that day and afterwards. It’s fair to ask why, and I can’t give you a definitive answer. I don’t feel like it’s a form of self-therapy. I’ve told story of October 27 many times over, to the point where I just assume anyone I know has already heard the story. 

 

It is the closest I have come to witnessing an extraordinary event. That deserves to be documented, even if I my story is only a small footnote in the larger narrative. 

 

There are other more personal reasons, though. I’ve seen a number of friends and associates die since this time. I don’t ascribe a meaning to this, only that the shooting is a sort of marker in the timeline of my life. I’m nearly sixty years old, and I know that aging means that I will see more of the people I know and love will pass away before me. I’ve been very fortunate that I haven’t lost more than I have. My parents and sisters are all among us, for example. Since the shooting, I’ve lost three people I knew to suicide, two to brain cancer, one to a drug overdose, and I’m probably forgetting others. This is in addition to the crushing reality of the COVID-19 pandemic during this time. 

 

The Tree of Life shooting left me very raw emotionally. It felt that my feelings were very close to the surface most of the time. The sting has blunted since that time, but I am left changed.

 

I love Squirrel Hill. I don’t want to be anywhere else. It’s a wonderful place. I have nice home, good neighbors (mostly). I live on an attractive block in an attractive segment of a lovely neighborhood. There’s a movie theater, used record and CD stores, bookstores, and many places to eat within walking distance. I can walk to work when the weather is fair. I couldn’t ask for much more in a place to live.

 

I do take the shooting a little bit personally. It has been a scar on a place that I love. I don’t want that to sound trivial and self-centered. I didn’t lose any family, and it wasn’t an act of hatred directed at me or any of my relatives. Yet, this is my neighborhood. Those were my neighbors. I feel it, and I’m going to write about it.

 

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Current listening: Morton Feldman, Violin and String Quartet. I’ve been listening to a lot of Feldman recently, mostly his work from the 1980s and some from the 1970s. This piece is particularly long, minimal, and I’d even describe it as “icy.” I recommend locating his work Rothko Chapel and listening on October 18. It seems appropriate. 

Briefly, about Anton Fier

In my previous post here, I mentioned Anton Fier's death in a larger statement about Pharoah Sanders. Now I've read that his death was an assisted suicide, done in Switzerland. 

I've been getting small pieces of information about Anton's later life. It was filled with frustrations, financial problems, recovery from alcoholism, and physical difficulties. 

Were his physical challenges terminal? I don't know, I've not read anything to indicate that. He does seem to have become increasingly despondent and possibly isolated.

I support the principle of doctor-assisted suicide. If one is faced with a terminal condition, with months of terrible pain and loss of facilities, and no hope of recovery or cure, yes. I think you have the right to check out early.

Does Anton qualify? It sounds to me like a different situation. I'm not passing judgment on his decision (and it clearly was a decision on his part, having to make the necessary arrangements and fly to Europe to have it done). 

Or am I judging? Was his life so unbearable? I've known two people who committed suicide in the past several years. But in their cases, they were both dealing with severe mental health issues that eventually grew out of their control. Neither bought a one way ticket to Zürich to have a procedure done to them.

 I just don't know. Take care of yourselves friends, know that you have value.

Some thoughts after the passing of Pharoah Sanders

With the death of Pharoah Sanders, we’ve lost one more connection to that era of jazz and American music. I’m talking about the late 50s into the 1960s. The hard bop to free jazz, the new thing. I mean, who’s left?

(There are European composer/improvisors I could name, but I will stay focused on the Americans in this case.)

 

Marshall Allen is still carrying Sun Ra’s torch, who is 98 years old as I write this. I read that it was Sun Ra who told Farrell Sanders that his proper name was Pharoah. I saw Marshall with the Arkestra in Portland, OR last June. He and they are still kicking it.

 

Sonny Rollins lives on, though he is unable to play his instrument any longer.

 

Ron Carter, Wayne Shorter, and Herbie Hancock from the great Miles Davis Quintet of the 60s are still with us. I just saw Ron Carter live and he sounded great. Wayne, last I saw him on video, sounded frail and I’m not sure he’s playing any more. Herbie resurfaces now and then but I haven’t kept track of any current playing he might be doing. 

 

Benny Golson is still around, as are Charles Lloyd and Reggie Workman.

 

When you get to the new generation in the mid-to-late 60s, we’re still lucky to have some of those people around. Anthony Braxton, Roscoe Mitchell, Famoudou Don Moye, Oliver Lake, Andrew Cyrille, Carla Bley, Steve Swallow, Gary Burton, Keith Jarrett, Jack DeJohnette.

 

Pianist Dave Burrell is still with us, and I’ve read that he recently donated his archives to the Center for American Music at the University of Pittsburgh.

 

Speaking of Pittsburgh, I know I’d be remiss in not mentioning Roger Humphries, best known for playing drums on Horace Silver’s “Song for my Father” from 1965. He still plays, and plays well. 

 

I’m doubtlessly forgetting many others deserving of attention. 

 

Drummer Anton Fier also recently died. I don’t know how. He was of a different generation than those listed above. A mutual friend made an online comment that he had gotten to know Anton in the past few years, and that Anton had given up playing the drums. The reason? Foot problems, back problems, and the physical toll of loading and unloading drums over and over to drive long distances for little money. That’s a young man’s game. As another friend, Lindsey Horner, observed once, “The cost of equipment and repairs keeps going up, but the bread at gigs remains the same.”

 

This addresses what broader point I have to make, besides recognizing these people. Being a musician can be a tough life with inconsistent work and pay. Even those who have lived the most comfortably, have still gotten there by working hard and for countless hours. You owe it to yourself, and maybe even them, to see these people perform if you have the opportunity. I almost missed out on seeing Ron Carter, and I would have regretted it if I had. 

 

I know someone reading this uses Spotify. I understand the appeal, but it’s an illusion if you think it’s helping the musicians. Yes it puts the music in people’s attention, but almost nobody benefits from Spotify except for the biggest name pop artists (and Spotify itself). If you’re still on physical media, buy a CD or LP once in a while, or a band t-shirt should there be any. That’s the way you directly benefit the artists. But most of all, get out there and experience the music live! It’s where the art truly lives. 

Pierre Henry: Polyphonies disc 3

 Pliens jeux (2008) in four movements: Croissance, Expérience, Pressentiment, Plénitude

Kyldex (1973) in five movements: Ouverture/sirène, Danse électromatic, Erotica II, Crescendo, Continuum

The run time on this disc is 73:20. The editors are both clearly trying to present Henry's work in reverse chronological order, but also fit the maximum amount onto each disc. Like disc 2, the works jump around by a few decades. 

Listening to Liens jeux (Game links?), I'm reminded how important the piano is in Henry's musical world. It is rarely played in a traditional manner, or at least that's what I've heard so far. I'm going to have to study more of these recordings to conclusively state both of those things.

At least, I think it's the piano. It could be a number of other string and percussive sound sources, but I think I'm right. Maybe I'm being lazy by not relying on the notes provided; maybe I don't want to know anything about a particular work when it comes up on the disc. As they say a little of column A, a little of column B. 

Croissance (Growth) is at times a dense assemblage of percussive and string sounds. There's not so much the sort of audio manipulation going on here that one might associate with musique concrète (which I will henceforth on this blog refer to as MC), though there is filtering, panning, blending and balancing. This movement is built more through the layering of tracks, of which there are probably many here. 

Expèrience is noticeably less dense, with recognizable bell sounds mixed with the possibly altered piano sounds. The works in general, with the exception (so far) of Gymkhana from disc 2, have an improvisational feel to them.

Once again, not relying on the notes (which I will read some time in the future), I'm envisioning this: there's Pierre Henry, alone or with an assistant in his home studio. He has an idea for a piece, or a set of pieces. There's his long-suffering piano, which has been scratched, strummed, hit, pounded, and prepared many times over the years. He's surrounded by various bells, percussion, beaters, mallets, glasses, string bows, iron rods. Pierre starts to record, with a general sense of what he wants to capture, without worrying too much about the individual events. He's capturing a texture. And then layers in more, and more still. Some things are manipulated through processing and editing, some things brought forward, other ideas left behind as the piece develops. Improvisational in source, compositional in development. 

There's a good chance that I'm completely wrong about all of that. 

Real time comment as I listen to the final two movements. I'm seriously sleep deprived as I listen to them. Once or twice I found myself drifting off, not because I find the pieces boring but because they're hypnotic in a way. There are some short repeated figures that peak in and out, but mostly they're two pieces of escalating and de-escalating densities with little in the way of traditional musical content.

The Ouverture to Kyldex starts up, and we're in a different category. Electronically generated sounds!

I shouldn't be that surprised. I think it was Pierre Schaeffer, who coined the very term MC, who tended to be more the purist on these matters. All sounds captured by microphone, manipulated through recording technologies. Henry was perhaps less dogmatic in these matters.

It is a little startling to hear this work pop up in this collection however, when everything has been so clearly acoustically-based sound sources. 

The electronics are not "pleasant" in the traditional sense; I'd even go so far as to say, maybe intentionally annoying. I find the history of such things interesting, in that he's working with. sound palette similar to maybe some of the Buchla noisemakers of the later 70s, but creating it earlier on.

I found this listing when searching for the title online: http://www.medienkunstnetz.de/works/kyldex/

I noted the name of Nicolas Schöffer. I have an LP of Schöffer's electronic music, and I remember not liking it. Could he be the reason the work took this direction? He's not co-credited on the disc.

Also: https://vimeo.com/467484882

Erotica II brings in a female voice (or voices), further removing it from the piano-based works on this collection so far. The second half of this movement clearly brings some pre-composed elements into the mix, similar to Gymkhana. 

Crescendo is just that, a crescendo MC-style, and Continuum is purely pointillist sounds. 

Pierre Henry: Polyphonies disc 2

 Études transcendantes pour piano imaginaire (six movements) 2015; Grande Toccata 2006; Gymkhana 1970

If I had any reservation about the Chroniques terriennes of disc one, that goes away with the  Études transcendantes pour piano imaginaire (2015). Transcendental Etudes for Imaginary Piano.  

The title of "transcendental etudes" dates back to Liszt. It was later taken up by Sorabji and Ferneyhough. I have a CD of the so-called transcendental etudes, switching between Liszt and Ligeti.

The title immediately clicks for me, when listening to the work. It's mostly piano sounds of some sort, in some ways harking back to the "Bidule en ut" of 1950. The sounds originate from the piano (prepared and not played traditionally), are layered, and mixed with other extraneous sounds occasionally.

Since the piano is imaginary here, and the etudes transcendental, I am picturing this as being Henry's own imaginary piano. His piano would able to play all the things readily at the keyboard. The preparations, knocking, resonances, combinations of sounds, and so forth. I'm picturing the eight-armed being surrounded by 1,000 keys and a variety of gadgets and whatnots, that be required to perform these etudes.

The final movement gets weirdly funky. 

I will mentioned that there are notes, but at the moment I'm not particularly interested. 

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Grande Toccata: A toccata, traditionally speaking, is a freely composed work intended to demonstrate virtuosic ability on the part of a keyboardist. This definition is in stark contrast to the sound of this work, which is neither keyboard-based, nor does it have a virtuosic quality (except for perhaps the beautiful production).

It demonstrate's Henry's love of the recorded sound, and the various things you can do with it. There's an atmosphere here: breathing sounds, tapped metal bowls, slamming doors, elevators, digitally manipulated piano sounds. There's some synthesized sounds in the mix, perhaps. It's difficult to tell. It could be natural sounds digitally drawn out over time. 

I could easily draw a comparison to Nurse With Wound on this particular work, though perhaps less emphasis on the voice than NWW tends to be. The problem is, that's like comparing the work of the teacher to the student, and not the other way around.

So what is the commonality? Maybe there's more of a narrative character to this work than the previous one, something I associate with NWW. Musique concréte can take on a storytelling quality, even if that quality is obscured. Our brain naturally makes connections between what we see and hear in the moment, and our previous experiences. If we recognize something, we associate it with memory. If we don't, our brain tries to.

Something's happening here. It's dark, builds, it's sometimes in an elevator. I try to resist such things, but I can't help believe there's a horror movie vibe to the work in the latter third. What's happening?

And it has a degree of drama. It's intense towards the end. It's not meant to be math sound without effect. There's also a tiny little coda at the end.

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Gymkhana (1970, remixed 2016). My daughter, when quite young, went to the Gymkhana above the East End Food Co-op. I never gave much thought to the name, besides having the word "gym" in it. 

I looked up: it's a location where various gymnastics and other sporting events are held. Okay. 

This work is markedly different that the previous ones. The sounds are very clearly based on acoustical recordings, and there is a large degree of scoring going on. It begins with slow, irregular percussive sounds. They're filtered but definitely not synthesized. It feels and sounds more Asian than anything in this set (so far). 

Then the instruments enter. Definitely piccolo, flute(s), oboe, bassoon high register (?). Maybe others, some horn perhaps? 

Again, without referring to the notes, I get a very strong gagaku flavor from this. What is gagaku? It's the oldest extant orchestral music in the world, Japanese imperial court music. It's always slow. There are mouth organs (sho) playing cluster chords, percussion, some sort of transverse flute, biwa, nasty double reeds. I forget all the names of the instruments. It's weirdly both dreamy and strident. 

But there's a twist in the work 3/4 of the way through, when brass instruments are introduced. They are similarly irregular as the woodwinds before, with the piccolo being the last to interact with them. 

All the while, there are the percussive sounds, clearly manipulated through recording and processing techniques.