Sounds Like Now
A blog by saxophonist Brian Sacawa
Archive for Experimental
May 5, 2008 at 11:02 pm · Filed under Blog: Spring 08, Experimental, Improv
Sometimes I feel like experimental improvisers are a lot like alcoholics—they don’t know when to stop. I go to a lot of improv shows and in general I leave vowing to never speak of what I’d just witnessed and wishing for that 2 hours of my life back. Now that’s not to say that there couldn’t have been some supremely beautiful or bona fide compelling moments within that two hours, but I think that the old adage “you should leave your audience wanting more” should start being heeded. Maybe I’m being a little unfair, but if I’d heard a coherent, cohesive one-hour, or 45-min, or hell, even a 30-min improvisation recently I’d be less inclined to raise my voice.
In most of the long form improvisations I’ve heard in the not so distant past there seemed to have been several moments when the session could have ended to make a cohesive statement. Instead, these cadence points arrive and inevitably someone on stage gets a little too self-indulgent and mistakes the natural end of a piece for a big solo opportunity. What follows is generally a very similar process to what had just unfolded: 1) the players start mimicking the sounds that are already happening, 2) then they gradually begin introducing something contrasting, 3) and commence a really long build-up that may peak up to 10 times, 4) followed by a very slow decrease in activity and volume, and finally 5) the audience sits rigidly during an uncomfortably long silence praying that no one on stage is inspired any more. I love it when the musicians finish one of these long pieces and then look around at each other on stage and then invariably say, “Should we do another one?” That’s the best. Though I believe that nearly every audience member wants to scream, “NO!!!!!!” nobody ever says anything. Then the players decide to do a “short one.” And the band plays on. And on. And on.
But rather than just complain here, I’d like to make a sugggestion: what about a time limit? Rather than basking in the comfort that you can ramble on for over 30 minutes hoping that inspiration may strike if it’s failed to up to that point, why not try and aim to create a solid, focused, complete, and meaningful statement in, let’s say, 10 minutes? Hardcore folks probably won’t like this idea since it imposes an unwelcome parameter in a musical genre that tends to shun any kind of constraint. But I think that would be more challenging for the players. And likely more engaging for the listeners. Parameters like duration (of the shorter variety) might be worthy considerations for free improvisers who haven’t matured enough yet to sustain a long form session.
N.B. Lest I come off fractiously here, I call your attention to this post, which sort of outlines my take on improvisation based on my experience studying with Yusef Lateef and doing my own playing both in a jazz and free/experimental style.
December 22, 2007 at 9:09 pm · Filed under Baltimore, Blog: Winter 07, Experimental, Performances
Baltimore’s 2nd annual performance of Phil Kline’s amibient Christmas masterpiece Unsilent Night took place last night and was by all accounts a smashing success. We had a record crowd of nearly 100 totally awesome participants. New for the 2007 edition of Unsilent Night in Baltimore was the summoning of aliens as we gathered in a circle around the infamous Male/Femal sculpture in front of Penn Station; convincing the Amtrak police that we were the “carolers” they were expecting and we did indeed know where to stage—after sharing the joy with everyone in the train station; and making our way in and then out of the lobby of the Charles Theater. Many thanks again to all the folks who helped out and spread the word about this year’s event. We’ll see everyone again next year!
P.s. Some photos of the event can be had here. And, by the way, if you came out last night and took some photos and would like to share them, that would be great. Just send me an email!
December 20, 2007 at 1:54 pm · Filed under Baltimore, Blog: Fall 07, Experimental, Performances
The batteries were all placed in the boombox with care . . . It’s the day before Unsilent Night in Baltimore and we’re ready to go. The press has been rolling in:
Though it won’t be as cold as last year, it’s still going to be a bit chilly. Those who brave the cold can look forward to warming up with some grog at Joe Squared at the Unsilent After Party following the event, where Hybrid Groove Project and DJ Dubble8 will warm things up as well. (We tried to get this guy on the bill, but he was booked already.)
Update: And many thanks to Baltimore bloggers Charissa, Box89e, and Broadsheet for helping to spread the word. Though I’m not sure what to make of this. At least the hipsters know that December 21 is Friday, not Saturday. Ahem.
December 16, 2007 at 1:40 pm · Filed under Blog: Fall 07, Experimental, New Music
The countdown to the 2007 edition of Unsilent Night in Baltimore has begun.
November 30, 2007 at 12:34 pm · Filed under Baltimore, Blog: Fall 07, Experimental, Music
This from an article about the Brooklyn music scene in the Guardian today:
The Maryland city of Baltimore plays a big role in Brooklyn’s musical renaissance. Sitek lived there, and is an old friend of Celebration’s singer, Katrina Ford, still a resident. Brian DeRan, the manager of Gang Gang Dance and Animal Collective, is a Baltimorean. So is Jason Foster, who now runs Yeasayer’s label, We Are Free (he and DeRan used to run another label, Monitor, together).
What is it about Baltimore, of all places, that inspires such curveball creativity? “There’s nothing there,” says Foster. “Absolutely nothing. So you can do what the fuck you want.”
New Baltimore slogans? Baltimore: Brooklyn’s Farm System. Baltimore: Making Music Too Cool For Itself. Baltimore: Helping Brooklyn Think It’s Better Than You.
November 10, 2007 at 3:23 pm · Filed under Baltimore, Blog: Fall 07, Experimental, Performances
Phil Kline’s Christmas masterpiece, Unsilent Night, makes a triumphant return to Baltimore next month (Friday, December 21 at 8 p.m., to be exact). New for 2007: check out the brand new website and be sure to catch the Unsilent After Party, featuring HGP and DJ Dubble8. Stay tuned for more info as the date approaches.
October 22, 2007 at 1:02 pm · Filed under Baltimore, Blog: Fall 07, Experimental, Performances
For some reason, performing on the sidewalk is beginning to become commonplace for me in Baltimore. Pictured above is yours truly with Baltimore-based experimetal saxophonist extraordinaire John Berndt performing looping improvised soprano saxophone duets in front of Normal’s Books & Records as part of this year’s High Zero Festival’s High Jinx performances.
May 20, 2007 at 11:43 pm · Filed under Baltimore, Blog: Spring 07, Experimental, Improv, Music
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.
February 27, 2007 at 3:23 pm · Filed under Blog: Winter 06, Composers, Experimental, Humor, New Music
Reminiscing about last year’s SPARK Fesitval a couple of posts ago reminded me about the experience of meeting Alvin Lucier, who was the event’s feautred guest composer. On my third concert of the festival—actually a joint recital with violinist Maja Cerar—I performed Lucier’s Spira Mirabilis for bass sustaining instrument (a.k.a. baritone saxophone) and amplified electric light. (To capture the sound of the light, you take a solar cell and route it through an amplifier so that when the light shines on the solar cell, you hear the sound of pure electric light, which happens to be a somewhat flat concert B-natural.) Here’s what happens in the piece: The saxophonist sounds a tone, whose duration, in seconds, and pitch, in cycles (beats) per second, above the tone of the sounding light. The length of each tone—in order of performance above the sounding light: d5, M3, m3, M2, m2, unison 4x—follows a descending Fibonacci sequence, starting at fifty-five seconds and ending at zero. As the performer sounds these tones, he is instructed to walk towards the light in eight constant angles, describing an equiangular spiral. Pretty specific, right?
I have to admit that I’ve always been slightly scared of and intimidated by Alvin Lucier. His music seems so serious to me. He amplifies brain waves. And the performance directions in his scores are so utterly precise. He sounds like a man who knows exactly what he wants. Why else be so specific with your directions to the performer? Stockhausen is notoriously anal about such matters. So every time I performed the piece without breaking out my protractor and making sure that I had inscribed the correct angles on the stage, I would honestly think, “Oh shit, he’s totally going to know that I didn’t walk at the proper angle and he’s going to get eff-ing mad and have a fit and think I’m completely incompetent and then tell everyone and I’ll be ruined!” And now he was at the dress rehearsal, watching and listening to me play his piece, for which my preparation certainly had not included a protractor.
I set about performing the work with grave seriousness. With shoes off and in socked feet so as not to disturb the trance-like effect of dissonance and harmony with an electric desk lamp—it’s a rather soft piece—I played the tritone. Then I walked and played the major third. And then the minor third, all the while hoping he wouldn’t notice that the angle of my trajectory across the stage was wrong. (N.B. In my opinion, one of the most beautiful things in Spira Mirabilis—and there is a sort of indescribable beauty in many of Lucier’s works, particularly the soft pieces and the sine tone stuff—is the alternation between dissonance and consonance. The tritone, a rather harsh dissonance, gives way to a satisfying and restful-sounding major third. The major third transforms into a minor third, which changes to a major second, and so on, until you arrive at the unison, which sounds utterly satisfying when you reach it. At this moment, the whole room seems to vibrate and all seems right with the world. Similarly, in the sine tone pieces you have these episodes of intense dissonance, which only increase in severity as the two tones approach unison, followed by the arrival of the unison, which is fleeting but ends up sounding even more beautiful because of its transience.)
If I may say, it really was quite masterful, my dress rehearsal performance. My circular breathing was stunning. My spiral seemed convincing. And the metronome clicking quietly in my ear at a steady 60 beats-per-minute ensured that I’d held each note for the proper duration. That’s when I heard it. From the darkness—the piece ends with the light turning off—Alvin Lucier emitted a short burst of laughter, followed by this quizzical statement: “Did I write that?” I was stunned. Was it the way I played it? The way he said it made it sound like the piece was kind of trivial or a joke or something. How could that be though with solar cells routed through amplifiers, and electric lights, and all that mathematical and scientific Fibonacci stuff? However, at that moment, although the light on stage had been turned out, a light over my head turned on. I realized that despite all of those cold calculaions in the work, that it is a little humorous and that Alvin Lucier has a great sense of humor to boot.
The rest of the rehearsal was focused on how we could “sell” the piece better. His first suggestion was actually a deviation from the score. (He was flexible (!), which came as a complete shock to me after having had this image of him built up in my head solely from what I’d know of his compositions and writings.) Instead of each tone moving to the next without a break between them, I was to seperate each tone by a few seconds. Next, he got into the theatrics of the performance, giving me directions like, “Look more perplexed as you walk forward,” and “Stare at the light in a suspicious manner,” and “Take slower, more deliberate steps, like you’re creeping around somewhere.” These extra directions actually made me feel much freer during the performance of the piece. And it made it much more fun and enjoyable to play. Before our coaching in the dress rehearsal I was always nervous to do anything that wasn’t notated or suggested in the score for reasons stated above.
To say the least, meeting and working with Alvin Lucier was delightful experience. Listening to some of his stories at dinner following the concert only confirmed his keen sense of humor. When I got him talking about a famous colleague of his, he imparted the following wisdom for those serving on faculty search committees: “You’ve got to hire the crazies.”
February 5, 2007 at 8:33 am · Filed under Baltimore, Blog: Winter 06, Experimental, Improv, Music, Reviews
The Red Room played host to two of Boston’s finest last Friday as Tim Feeney and Vic Rawlings schooled the faithful on the sound of silence. Although Tim confessed that Friday’s set was one of their louder efforts, both musicians operated in a dynamic space that ranged from niente to about mezzo piano. Yet within those seemingly narrow confines there is much that transpires and holds your interest. Both musicians play with such poise and conviction that they compel you to engage, drawing you into a world of sonic subtlety. Texture appeared to be the overarching theme to their set, which oscillated between the white-noisey and moments of pure beguiling consonance, with both textural flavors being equally elaborate and complex. Perhaps the most refreshing and virtuosic aspect of Tim and Vic’s set was the patience and restraint they displayed. Less levelheaded musicians might get bored or anxious working in the confines that they choose to. So it says something about their musical maturity that they are able to not only maintain their self-control but also that they can expand that space into a universe of infinite possibilties.
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