Ones of a kind
Every pursuit has its innovators, people who are synonomous with their field and without whom we couldn’t imagine that field existing the way it does today. This thought came to mind twice yesterday. The first time was while I was watching Dogtown and Z Boys, Stacey Peralta’s documentary about the birth of modern skateboarding. Would there have been a Tony Hawk without Tony Alva or Jay Adams? Similarly in jazz, would there have been a Michael Brecker—an innovator himself—without John Coltrane? Michael Jordan changed basketball. Jackson Pollock. Zeami Motokiyo. Andy Warhol. The Beatles. And so on.
The second time the innovation thought came to mind was during Dilettante’s set at the Red Room last night, where they were the second act on a triple bill that included local laptopper Myo as well as the crack duo of super duper original instrument producer Neil Feather and violinist and microtonal mistress Katt Hernandez. Dilettante was tight, excelling at focused short form improvisations, which were unpredictably busy and anxious. Percussionist Andrew Eisenberg played tastefully eradically. There seemed to be nothing that bassist Ryan McGuire didn’t hear. And alto saxophonist/bass clarinetist Josh Jefferson had a firm grasp on extended instrumental vocabulary. It was actually Jefferson’s playing that got me thinking about innovation again, namely one of the biggest innovators in free improvisation on the saxophone: John Zorn. You couldn’t not think of Zorn when Jefferson played because he was so into his bag. I’ve always had a bit of admiration for players that can mimic so well—I’m secretly jealous (well, it’s not all that secret anymore) of all the Kenny Garrett and Michael Brecker clones out there now—but at the same time I wonder how much fulfillment one feels playing a vocabulary that is so singularly associated with another player. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery and I didn’t really have any problem at all with the Zorn tribute. In the pursuit of a distinctive individual voice it’s imperative that we investigate and learn the vocabulary and style of those who have blazed the trail for us. Yet I believe there comes a point when one needs to shed that skin and synthesize all those influences into a unique voice that one can call one’s own.
