I'll let this video speak for itself, which contains more superlatives than I could write. He is playing It Could Happen to You, which I have been practicing ever since seeing this 2 months ago.
Now the interview. We did this through Gmail instant messaging, which is lovely because there is an immediate transcription of the conversation.
me: You are just about the most versatile guitarist I've heard. Blessing or curse or both?
Paul: Definitely a blessing....mostly. It becomes a curse as a leader if you are not careful to define what you are into at a particular moment in your career...so I won't put out a raga-based recording with pop grooves on it......and then play standards on the gigs around that time. As a leader, people listening to you have to know they will get some level of consistency in your performances, even if what you are working on changes over time....
me: I've noticed that reviewers or critics have a hard time labeling you, because that's what they like to do, label. Has that been a bit of an annoyance?
Paul: I've been very fortunate on the whole with writers, as the best ones really "get it".....that I'm not trying to copy the past, but that I'm still essentially a jazz improviser....or even take the word "jazz" out and leave "improviser". As in every aspect of our culture today, there are writers who don't do their homework, who don't want to have to actually really listen to the music with any degree of attention. Everybody has to deal with this, so at a certain point, while pats on the back are great, and let you know people are digging what you are doing, it's important not to loose sight of your role as a composer/player.....and to forge ahead, regardless. I've been told it might take a while for people to understand what I'm doing....and that's fine, because I'm going to keep doing it anyway!
me: You've done so much, and as I said, it's been so varied. Let me just summarize briefly, because I think it's puts you in a very unique position to see the jazz world. You've played with Joey D a lot, backed up Carol Sloane, played contemporary tunes, done your own composing, played with Houston Person--and traveled the world playing. If you were Dr. Jazz, how's the patient, how's jazz doing?
Paul: Wow...I wish I was that smart to know that! But in my world, there is a LOT of creative music going on, and musicians seem like they are open to trying different things, but with a real sensitivity to groove, vibe, creativity and making the music come across strongly. Also, folks are not afraid to cross-pollinate with other music, or to take older forms of jazz and look at them from new angles. So on the musician's end, I think it's a great time for creativity. Unfortunately, media control being what it is, a lot of this music is not heard by the general public, and jazz is defined in the mass media as being a replay of what happened in the 50's and 60's. Maybe not all of it, but a lot of it. That can mean it's more difficult to get gigs and record dates, and that can really stifle some of the players who might be having a hard time making ends meet.
me: What styles of jazz, since you play them all, seem to connect most with the public, and which parts of the country, and world are most enthusiastic about the music?
Paul: I just got back from a 3 week tour of Russia, a trio singer Chris McNulty and Russian pianist Andrei Kondakov. No bass or drums, doing original music from each of us, and some standards, but with my arrangements. On this tour, everybody plays some percussion, and Andrei also sings. The styles varied from modal vampy things in a straight 8th groove, to ballads, and really interactive duets....and the venues were all full. We were really happy that people enjoyed it so much, because it was a risk....new music, no rhythm section...But I think people everywhere enjoy a groove, a melody, and seeing the interactive magic of players communicating with each other on stage. It's like...."how did they do that?" for the audience. The best groups that I've played with, regardless of style, all had success with that. Best places to play....I love to play New York, because it's home....Most enthusiastic is definitely Europe, (including Russia!).
me: You mentioned that the media's preconceptions about jazz seem to be some type of blockage (just driving this Dr. metaphor into the ground here) between the musician and the public, could you elaborate on that just a bit more?
Paul: Sure. It seems that most major media outlets...television, radio, major internet retailers, major record labels, concert promoters, brick and mortar stores, newspapers, major concert venues and clubs, are either owned outright or affiliated with companies like Clear Channel, or Universal Entertainment, to name two. So....if you are not in with one of these gigantic multinational corporations it's going to be a lot more difficult to get on certain concert circuits, get recordings put out, get critics and reviewers to come to performances. Ever wonder how somebody with no talent and only the ability to entertain, or even just to look good onstage, becomes a huge star out of nowhere? This is how. I'm not complaining for myself...I've been very fortunate to have gotten some recognition without the benefit of a huge machine behind me. A lot of that has to do with the musicians around who have always been so supportive of each other. But the way that the "jazz business" seems to be going in the same direction of one-dimensional, media driven pop culture (ala American Idol), with only 2 or 3 giant companies pulling the strings is very disconcerting......whew....
me: Yeah, I was going to say you've dispelled any notion that quickness on the fretboard translates to the computer keyboard.:-)
Paul: just takes some thought! Deep questions!
me: Anyway, last question on the big picture of jazz, do you think it is consigned to a small niche, or can it recover and become a dominant part of peoples hearts—deep questions because I'm assuming you're really smart, and you are.
Paul: lol-I'm no historian, but jazz was only ever a huge 'Pop" music in the big band era.....so it's always been a "niche" music relative to other more mainstream things. But I have a lot of hope these days, because I see so many young people digging the music, at concerts and buying cd's. Jazz is so strong and deep that it will be here in some way shape or form long after you and I are gone. Of that I am sure. How's that for speedy...?:)
me: Much better, but I had the same smiley issue with Carol, she figured it out first. I think I got it by luck.
Paul: all this new computer based language..
me: Let's talk about you as a player, your development--because this video I'm embedding is fabulous on so many levels. When you were a kid, you started with open chords, cheap guitar, right?
Paul: Exactly..folk music on a nylon string when I was 7.
me: Then at some point, you wanted to be, who, Clapton or...?
Paul: the Beatles...then Carlos Santana
me: So Carlos gets you to explore the rest of the fretboard, and you began playing in rock bands?
Paul: Yup...then Led Zeppelin, Johnny Winter, the Allman Brothers, Jimi Hendrix, of course.....but all the time I'm listening to all the Motown stuff that was on the radio in the 60's and early 70's...so I know that went in there, too.
me: Did you have lessons, or were you wearing out the vinyl and driving your folks crazy?
Paul: I had a few lessons for the folk stuff, but then none until I was about 16, which was when I got interested in jazz. And yes I drove my folks, and my friends’ folks crazy, because by the time I was in junior high school, I was playing every weekend and a lot during the week with friends....just jams, really. But it was constant!
me: Do you have perfect pitch or relative pitch?
Paul: I've been working on my ears for a long time, so my relative pitch is ok. I wish I had perfect pitch. Every time I'm around Joey DeFrancesco (perfect pitch and an audiographic memory) I feel like I need to work 6 times harder on it:)
me: I'm going to ask about Joey later, his conception is about a generation or two older than he is, it seems, but that's for later. Did jazz hit you from your teacher, or did you discover it and bring it to your teacher?
Paul: My dad was a big Benny Goodman fan, and he had all those records in the house, but I never really did anything but listen a few times just out of curiosity. He also loved Frank Sinatra and Nat Cole. But it was so foreign to me then....I just needed to hear that raging rock beat. But to make a long story short, a friend turned me onto Mahavishnu Orchestra, and that led to Miles Davis "Big Fun", which led to "Bitches Brew" which led to Return to Forever and 11th House, and THEN....(jeez this is going to be boring to read!) my dad's colleague gave me a "Best of John Coltrane" record with "Giant Steps", "Naima", "Cousin Mary", etc. I must have been 16 or 17 at the time and that did it for me! Hooked!
me: Wow. Didn't expect that. The direction, that is. I would have thought you heard some jazz guitarist that just knocked you over. So at this time were you teaching yourself, or did you still have a teacher?
Paul: After hacking my way around trying to play some kind of fusion/vamp things, I went to Berklee in Boston for their 6 week summer course. When I got back from there I could play better, but still was mystified by the jazz thing, so I found a guy in DC named Steve Gray who showed me a few things, got me into playing tunes out of the Real Book (big mistake...better to learn just from records..but I had no $$ for records, so..). After I graduated high school I kicked around DC for a year while attending American University, trying to find a direction. Then I went to University of Miami in Florida for two years, in their jazz studies program. I studied under Randall Dollahan, and learned exactly how little I knew. But I should say that both the junior high I went to in New York and the high school I finished at in DC had great music programs, and I learned all the music theory basics, played in a big band (badly), and had exposure to basic ear training before I went to college.
me: Okay. Here's the key--at what point in your playing did all of your formal training melt away? In other words, at what point were you just able to let loose and play and not think about it--because that's one of the beautiful things about that video of you, that the music seems to flow without thought, right from the heart.
Paul: I'm still working on that one!:) No, seriously, it's only in the last few years that I've felt like I've gotten a little closer to being able to flow, and express in a more complete way. Still a work in progress, but thanks!
me: Congratulations on the smiley. I understand the elation.
Paul: Hooray....?
me: Oh, here comes the modesty part. I knew I would run into it at some point. No, you've crossed a bridge that not many cross--it's definitely flowing. Especially those with formal training, it's hard to pry the brain off the fingers.
Paul: Thanks! I'm glad it comes across ("modest is my middle name--Carol Sloane")
me: Yes, I'm reminded of this every time I tell her that her music is exquisite. So, do you still feel the brain gripping your hand?
Paul: Naw...nothing left in the brain....:) But the key for me has been to be able to "hear" what the notes on the fretboard sound like, so getting the fingers to them is just a matter of mechanics....hopefully.
me: So you can find what you hear?
Paul: It's something I've been working on for many years. It eliminates the need to rationalize. I mean, I do use what I know of jazz clichés or stylistically based lines, and what I know of harmony and rhythm, but it's all dictated by the ear. So if I can hear it, and then know exactly where it is on the fretboard, then it makes life a lot easier.
me: I'm thinking of two things at once, I'm not sure if they're related. One is from a Barney Kessel video--the only one still in circulation, and I might have bought the last copy. He emphasized not naming chords, trying to keep the nouns and theory out for as long as possible--and I'm also wondering where you picked up this mastery of the fretboard. Just comment, I suppose.
Paul: It is definitely all about sound...not names. If you can hear it and play it but not name it, you are in better shape than naming everything but hearing nothing. Mastery.....? What mastery?
me: Oh please.
Paul: Well, you develop techniques for getting what you need out of the instrument. I should have some books coming out on these techniques sometime.....soon!
me: You know people can see it, the mastery. I'm going to embed the video.
Paul: Cool. The more the merrier
me: Which jazz guitarists--were there any jazz guitarists that just made your jaw perpetually drop?
Paul: Man....all of the greats. Lenny Breau is one who is less well known. Pat Martino and George Benson still kill me. John (how does he do that)McLaughlin. But the truth is that I try not to listen too much to guitar players, because all these guys sound so great that I want to be just like them. Which is silly, because I'm still working on my own voice. But I love listening to any good guitar player, and I always try to steal as much as I can without being obvious about it:)
me: That makes perfect sense. You have a sound that is unique, you've got your own voice, and that comes from walking a fine line between getting too close to another player and keeping your distance. I actually think that's the real barrier between the public and jazz, brain dominating hands, which hurts the musicians ability to find their own voice. So, to sum up this section--it just happened one day that the labels disappeared and you just were able to play what you heard. It was gradual?
Paul: Very gradual, and it still takes a lot of work. Music is sound, after all!
me: Last section, shouldn't be as long. Do you notice a different feel, even before the music starts when playing with fellows with an older conception, like Houston Person, or Joey, and younger more contemporary players? Remember, this is before the music begins.
Paul: Good question. I have so much respect for the older guys, it makes me feel honored to be with them, even just hanging out, because they've done so much. If I'm the older guy, then it feels like I can be the one with experience. But you know there is a great comraderie with most jazz players, regardless of age.
me: There may be no way to answer that, I mean you did, but there may be no way to ask that. I used to play with older guys in St. Louis, and there was a relaxed feel, either because of age or because of the classic swing that was just a part of who they were. It felt different when younger guys were playing.
Paul: Sure....I know what you mean...the voice of experience vs the wild energy of youth?
me: Could be, but you feel it too? I listened to a lot of your stuff yesterday, saved your record with Carol for last--I'm just blown away by the clarity of her harmonic concept, and I know she can't read, it's all natural. Do you find that as she sings, certain chords, shall we say, strongly suggest themselves, things you might not usually do?
Paul: Sure, and that's true in each situation. You have to treat as a thing of the moment and just find the right thing to say. Playing with Carol is much different than working with Chris McNulty, but the principle of finding the right thing is the same.
me: Okay, I just hear so much from her voice, but hey, I'm a fan.
Paul: Me too!
me: I guess we are at the point of guitars and strings and picks. What do you play--how are you set up?
Paul: Guild Starfire 4, .012 gauge round wound strings, Dunlop jazz 3 picks, and variety of amps, usually with tubes or a tube preamp in front.
me: So you don't lift your own equipment?
Paul: lol. Just one amp at a time.
me: The Guild is like a 335?
Paul: Yes, exactly
me: Well you make a great case for using that type of body. Are you planning a solo album, cd, whatever?
Paul: Yes. We own our own record label (not signing at the moment, sorry), Elefant Dreams (www.elefantdreams.com). I've put our Brightness of Being(2006)and Invocation (2007) and my next one will be a duo/trio recording with Andrei Kondakov and Chris McNulty. Then, maybe a solo guitar project, we'll see.
me: Do you think that nowadays it’s the wisest move for folks to have their own label?
Paul: Seems to be the growing trend.
me: One last question, unless your answer piques another one, is your book going to be written for the illiterate guitarist or for the literate, theoretically knowledgeable guitarist?
Paul: The illiterate one, of course. We all have to stick together...
me: Whew....
Paul: Amen.
me: Can't think of a better ending.
Paul: Thanks. I really appreciate your interest, man. It's guys like you who are keeping us working guys alive out there. Thanks! Gotta run--have a good one, too!
me: And thank you for spending the time, and I really hope your typing improves. I'm going to let GuitarPlayer know we've done this, and then Downbeat--and if they aren't interested I'll just polish it and post it. But they are editors and they don't like to respond to emails. I'll keep you posted.
Paul: Cool! Thanks and ciao!
me: chow
Paul: lol
Well you can see that there is quite a bit of material that we covered, and I'm going to do a parallel post after this, summarizing, highlighting all of the gems that Paul gave us. Of course, I could try to IM with him again, but that would entail letting him type, and...well, let's just not.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Musical String Theory
Science has this peculiar habit of not being quite as scientific as it would like to be. The main reason is that it is almost impossible to prove new theories because the instruments needed to get the hard data don’t yet exist. As I said in on another blog, the first person to invent a machine that measures ‘life force’, will win a Nobel Prize, even though every other culture in the world already recognizes this force as not only existing, but being a cornerstone of that culture. It took years before Einstein’s theory of curved space was proven. The latest theory on the table, pretty well accepted, seen in PBS specials, is String Theory, that the universe is made of these super duper extra special tiny strings. So tiny that one string has never been seen. So tiny that it is reasonable to assume no string ever will be seen. And yet, more like a detective story than a scientific investigation, the theory of strings just seems to fit the available facts. Most times that’s just the best we can do, toss out a theory to which the available facts stick for the time being.
The problem tackled by this blog, in many ways, shapes, and forms, is trying to figure out what happened to jazz. What happened to the most beautiful, inspired, elegant, moving, even life-saving music the world has seen—that it is now relegated to either an afterthought by people who know music, that those playing it can’t seem to reach the heights of their predecessors, that at present, it is, at the most, hip background music for various television commercials? And most importantly, how can it be saved, how can it be brought back to life?
Well, here’s a theory.
In western civilization we just don’t like to improvise. The western mind likes things to be ordered, formulaic, predictable, known, regulated, and rational. Western civilization has survived because of time periods, eras, of improvisation, but those only lasted for a short period of time. One of those periods was the Renaissance, covered over by the formula guys, the math guys, the orderly guys of the Enlightenment. Another one of those periods was when this Enlightenment world collapsed under the weight of its own discoveries, and a period began that we haven’t yet classified. We’re still close enough to it that no historian or sociologist could really get the old conceptual meat hooks into it.
Einstein was improvising, and then other physicists began discovering things that were supposed to be impossible, and then all of physics had to start improvising. This is when Louis Armstrong was born, and he also began taking music—that most ordered product of the western mind, and threw it into chaos, and it became more chaotic, until it crawled into the universities to become ordered and clean once again. I was just looking through a book last night on improving your skills at improvisation. Literally the guy was talking about formulas to use with certain chord progressions, and he wrote with no sense that he was mocking himself.
Jazz improvisation is walking down a dark alley, it is purposely making wrong turns—you the improviser are trying to do something that you haven’t done before. For every note you know, you’re looking for a note or phrase you don’t know. In other words, you’re looking to get into trouble, and then looking for a way out of that trouble. That one sentence is Charlie Parker’s life in a nutshell, it is Stan Getz, it is so many of the pioneers of jazz in one form or another. Or it was played by immigrants and the poor, those whose every day life was a form of improvisation. For Wes Montgomery, intense headaches would come as he discovered how to use octaves the way no one has since. But none of this can possibly be comfortable. And if there is one other thing marking this historical phase, it is that we certainly like our comfort.
For the early and great jazz musicians, it was nothing, soulfully, to walk over the edge of the cliff. They were pretty sure they would fly—but how can a human be certain of this? But they did fly. And we, the audience at the time, went along. That was the feeling of the music, that’s what the musicians were doing, that was the dominant new technology of the time, that was the name of the dance—the Lindy Hop. Jazz began to drop off when the fascination with flying dropped off, and that would be 1969.
Today, jazz players are concerned about making it through the changes, flying is not an operative concept. Comfort through the changes, that is the goal. The solo has become a quest for comfort, the opposite direction of their predecessors. It is learned in an orderly manner, with formulas, the western mind has once again taken control. It is the opposite of Horace Greeley’s frontier spirit, the call of Go West. Today, it isn’t even Go East, it’s Go to School.
And so, where is the life, where is the pulse of this great music? Is it now in Asia, another bud on their tree of knowledge—the tree of how to deal with life force, with chi, with prana, with nefesh? Because, this stuff within us, can only be dealt with on the improv. And who knows, maybe we can fly.
The problem tackled by this blog, in many ways, shapes, and forms, is trying to figure out what happened to jazz. What happened to the most beautiful, inspired, elegant, moving, even life-saving music the world has seen—that it is now relegated to either an afterthought by people who know music, that those playing it can’t seem to reach the heights of their predecessors, that at present, it is, at the most, hip background music for various television commercials? And most importantly, how can it be saved, how can it be brought back to life?
Well, here’s a theory.
In western civilization we just don’t like to improvise. The western mind likes things to be ordered, formulaic, predictable, known, regulated, and rational. Western civilization has survived because of time periods, eras, of improvisation, but those only lasted for a short period of time. One of those periods was the Renaissance, covered over by the formula guys, the math guys, the orderly guys of the Enlightenment. Another one of those periods was when this Enlightenment world collapsed under the weight of its own discoveries, and a period began that we haven’t yet classified. We’re still close enough to it that no historian or sociologist could really get the old conceptual meat hooks into it.
Einstein was improvising, and then other physicists began discovering things that were supposed to be impossible, and then all of physics had to start improvising. This is when Louis Armstrong was born, and he also began taking music—that most ordered product of the western mind, and threw it into chaos, and it became more chaotic, until it crawled into the universities to become ordered and clean once again. I was just looking through a book last night on improving your skills at improvisation. Literally the guy was talking about formulas to use with certain chord progressions, and he wrote with no sense that he was mocking himself.
Jazz improvisation is walking down a dark alley, it is purposely making wrong turns—you the improviser are trying to do something that you haven’t done before. For every note you know, you’re looking for a note or phrase you don’t know. In other words, you’re looking to get into trouble, and then looking for a way out of that trouble. That one sentence is Charlie Parker’s life in a nutshell, it is Stan Getz, it is so many of the pioneers of jazz in one form or another. Or it was played by immigrants and the poor, those whose every day life was a form of improvisation. For Wes Montgomery, intense headaches would come as he discovered how to use octaves the way no one has since. But none of this can possibly be comfortable. And if there is one other thing marking this historical phase, it is that we certainly like our comfort.
For the early and great jazz musicians, it was nothing, soulfully, to walk over the edge of the cliff. They were pretty sure they would fly—but how can a human be certain of this? But they did fly. And we, the audience at the time, went along. That was the feeling of the music, that’s what the musicians were doing, that was the dominant new technology of the time, that was the name of the dance—the Lindy Hop. Jazz began to drop off when the fascination with flying dropped off, and that would be 1969.
Today, jazz players are concerned about making it through the changes, flying is not an operative concept. Comfort through the changes, that is the goal. The solo has become a quest for comfort, the opposite direction of their predecessors. It is learned in an orderly manner, with formulas, the western mind has once again taken control. It is the opposite of Horace Greeley’s frontier spirit, the call of Go West. Today, it isn’t even Go East, it’s Go to School.
And so, where is the life, where is the pulse of this great music? Is it now in Asia, another bud on their tree of knowledge—the tree of how to deal with life force, with chi, with prana, with nefesh? Because, this stuff within us, can only be dealt with on the improv. And who knows, maybe we can fly.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Pushing Hands
Brief Note: In between this post and my previous post, Carol Sloane celebrated a birthday. Happy Birthday, and thank you for the exquisite music you've given the world.
The New Post:
It’s getting worse. In an earlier post I mentioned the day I heard Billboard would no longer track Jazz as a distinct category, mixing it into R&B. Yesterday I tried to get some figures on Jazz CD sales, and it’s hard to find. In fact, I couldn’t find any information. Then I went to Billboard, and jazz is no longer grouped with R&B. Now it’s grouped with Classical. And if that doesn’t say it all, then you just can’t hear.
Used to be, Jazz was the polar opposite of classical music, the latter being rehearsed and theorized to a point where if there was spontaneity it was as fleeting as a lightning bug’s light, as elusive as mercury, and more than likely it was a mistake. Jazz was always about spontaneity. That was the whole point of the music, that and blues, that and swing.
In the early recordings the great Louis Armstrong took liberties never before heard, and probably never before imagined. The Big Band Era solidified the base of swing, but still the musicians felt constrained. And then came the post-WWII small groups that marked both a rise is musicianship and recording quality. The recordings were done for various labels, usually in one studio, VanGelder’s in New Jersey. In each of these legendary recordings there was a feeling that the music wasn’t quite complete, the musicians didn’t fully know their roles. There was a roughness in each recording, there was a space that held uncertainty and suspense. The songs were both old and new, but they followed the template of Gershwin, Berlin, Ellington, and the blues, and the listener could join with the musicians, anticipate the drummer yet still be surprised and excited when Philly Joe Jones, Art Taylor, or Louis Hayes exceeded expectations, breaking your—you, the listener, the buyer of the album, breaking your expectations of what was humanly possible. You heard Kenny Burrell’s beautiful tone but also his mistakes—and it added to the music, it made it more suspenseful, it put you right there in what felt like the living room where they were playing. You heard Sonny Rollins plant a seed and grow the tree right in front of your ears. And these records, turned into CDs, continue to sell quite well.
And then very slowly, in the name of spontaneity, the bass line disconnected from the listener’s heart, the drums didn’t just kick at the perfect moment, but rather the style felt more like flailing—and the opportunity for hitting just the right cymbal at just the right moment, like Jimmy Cobb on So What, that moment disappeared in a tangle of percussion freely expressed. In the name of spontaneity, all notes became right notes, and the suspense was gone because there could be no wrong notes. The songs broke the template, they broke the form that somehow tapped into our deepest selves, and the listener could no longer go along with the musician on the ride through the solo. It became impossible to know when the musician was reaching his or her limit, when they were exceeding even what they themselves thought they were capable of playing.
The music sounded like risk, but there was no risk, the newer jazz ended up creating a huge safety net for the player, all the while disconnecting from the audience. And then the music moved from the clubs, from players learning by themselves or being taken under the wing of a wiser player, to the classroom and tests and one size fits all. And the practice patterns, the way musicians practiced changed—rather than practicing the act of improvising, they practiced what they were going to play over certain passages, and the spontaneity was then gone.
Sales dropped, it became harder to get gigs, rock jumped right into the void created by the shift in Jazz, and the Jazz musicians did what most folks do in times of crisis. They denied it was happening, they rationalized. They said, they thought, that what they were playing was so hip it was beyond the minds of the public—so that even when you went to hear them, instead of you being invited along for the ride, you are seen with some contempt—just enough to make sales drop even more, to make gigs even tougher to get. The musicians, being people too, became more frightened, angrier at the public, and they played this anger. It came through the music, just enough to make sales drop some more and make gigs tougher to get.
It does have that sound of a death spiral—
But it’s not dead yet. There are moments, there are still seeds. If the great guitarist Paul Bollenback plays a chord melody, are the seeds in his voice leading, or are the seeds the sound of his laughter as he surprises himself? The same kind of laughter we would hear in the background coming from Wes Montgomery, or the monotone hum that Oscar Peterson knew and proved to be an intricate melody. In the album notes to Kind of Blue, the quintessence of spontaneous playing, a moment when the musicians didn't even see the music until the tape was already recording, Bill Evans describes a type of Asian art--drawing and painting on a tight canvas, so tight that any hesitation will puncture and destroy the work. The act of the drawing must be immediate and complete.
And what can be more spontaneous than a good round of the Tai Chi exercise of Pushing Hands? And so Asian culture, on the outside, seems quite classical, and yet on the inside, there is a tradition of spontaneity, of practicing the act of improvising. Across the Pacific, some beautiful jazz is being played.
Once before, in the history of the world, Asian technology pulled the western world out of the Dark Ages, perhaps they can do it again.
The New Post:
It’s getting worse. In an earlier post I mentioned the day I heard Billboard would no longer track Jazz as a distinct category, mixing it into R&B. Yesterday I tried to get some figures on Jazz CD sales, and it’s hard to find. In fact, I couldn’t find any information. Then I went to Billboard, and jazz is no longer grouped with R&B. Now it’s grouped with Classical. And if that doesn’t say it all, then you just can’t hear.
Used to be, Jazz was the polar opposite of classical music, the latter being rehearsed and theorized to a point where if there was spontaneity it was as fleeting as a lightning bug’s light, as elusive as mercury, and more than likely it was a mistake. Jazz was always about spontaneity. That was the whole point of the music, that and blues, that and swing.
In the early recordings the great Louis Armstrong took liberties never before heard, and probably never before imagined. The Big Band Era solidified the base of swing, but still the musicians felt constrained. And then came the post-WWII small groups that marked both a rise is musicianship and recording quality. The recordings were done for various labels, usually in one studio, VanGelder’s in New Jersey. In each of these legendary recordings there was a feeling that the music wasn’t quite complete, the musicians didn’t fully know their roles. There was a roughness in each recording, there was a space that held uncertainty and suspense. The songs were both old and new, but they followed the template of Gershwin, Berlin, Ellington, and the blues, and the listener could join with the musicians, anticipate the drummer yet still be surprised and excited when Philly Joe Jones, Art Taylor, or Louis Hayes exceeded expectations, breaking your—you, the listener, the buyer of the album, breaking your expectations of what was humanly possible. You heard Kenny Burrell’s beautiful tone but also his mistakes—and it added to the music, it made it more suspenseful, it put you right there in what felt like the living room where they were playing. You heard Sonny Rollins plant a seed and grow the tree right in front of your ears. And these records, turned into CDs, continue to sell quite well.
And then very slowly, in the name of spontaneity, the bass line disconnected from the listener’s heart, the drums didn’t just kick at the perfect moment, but rather the style felt more like flailing—and the opportunity for hitting just the right cymbal at just the right moment, like Jimmy Cobb on So What, that moment disappeared in a tangle of percussion freely expressed. In the name of spontaneity, all notes became right notes, and the suspense was gone because there could be no wrong notes. The songs broke the template, they broke the form that somehow tapped into our deepest selves, and the listener could no longer go along with the musician on the ride through the solo. It became impossible to know when the musician was reaching his or her limit, when they were exceeding even what they themselves thought they were capable of playing.
The music sounded like risk, but there was no risk, the newer jazz ended up creating a huge safety net for the player, all the while disconnecting from the audience. And then the music moved from the clubs, from players learning by themselves or being taken under the wing of a wiser player, to the classroom and tests and one size fits all. And the practice patterns, the way musicians practiced changed—rather than practicing the act of improvising, they practiced what they were going to play over certain passages, and the spontaneity was then gone.
Sales dropped, it became harder to get gigs, rock jumped right into the void created by the shift in Jazz, and the Jazz musicians did what most folks do in times of crisis. They denied it was happening, they rationalized. They said, they thought, that what they were playing was so hip it was beyond the minds of the public—so that even when you went to hear them, instead of you being invited along for the ride, you are seen with some contempt—just enough to make sales drop even more, to make gigs even tougher to get. The musicians, being people too, became more frightened, angrier at the public, and they played this anger. It came through the music, just enough to make sales drop some more and make gigs tougher to get.
It does have that sound of a death spiral—
But it’s not dead yet. There are moments, there are still seeds. If the great guitarist Paul Bollenback plays a chord melody, are the seeds in his voice leading, or are the seeds the sound of his laughter as he surprises himself? The same kind of laughter we would hear in the background coming from Wes Montgomery, or the monotone hum that Oscar Peterson knew and proved to be an intricate melody. In the album notes to Kind of Blue, the quintessence of spontaneous playing, a moment when the musicians didn't even see the music until the tape was already recording, Bill Evans describes a type of Asian art--drawing and painting on a tight canvas, so tight that any hesitation will puncture and destroy the work. The act of the drawing must be immediate and complete.
And what can be more spontaneous than a good round of the Tai Chi exercise of Pushing Hands? And so Asian culture, on the outside, seems quite classical, and yet on the inside, there is a tradition of spontaneity, of practicing the act of improvising. Across the Pacific, some beautiful jazz is being played.
Once before, in the history of the world, Asian technology pulled the western world out of the Dark Ages, perhaps they can do it again.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
An Interview with Carol Sloane
There’s a reason to write an introductory paragraph giving the highest praise to the artist one interviews. Here’s why. Carol Sloane is one of the greatest jazz singers of all time. It’s a tall mountain to climb, jazz singing, and there is room for many at the top. Throughout Carol’s career those who have heard her knew within three notes that she belongs at this still exclusive pinnacle. Her voice is so fine and rare that there really isn’t anyone with whom to compare her. Just like Wes Montgomery and his miraculous thumb, Carol has a remarkable larynx. Most singers coordinate these muscles and fibrous tissue to generate one clear note. Not Carol. She has such control that she sings with chordal overtones. I’ll say it simply. She sings harmonies with herself. If you listen carefully, she is singing very subtle chords. Her concept of jazz singing, then, is the harmonic interplay between her and the piano or guitar, the small adjustments they make as the song moves on, one harmony for the A section, a variation on the second A, the bridge, and maybe a third way of doing the A section again. Who else can do this? Who else has that conception? On the mountaintop, the group shrinks considerably. But my experience with Carol’s voice is 99 percent listening to her sing Solitude or I’ve Got You Under My Skin. Her experience with her voice is 90 percent wondering out loud where she put the car keys, or, since she lives in New England, telling others how to drive. Not to mention forgiving Bill Buckner (don’t know if she’s gotten to that point yet, I know she’s striving for it if she hasn’t yet arrived) and blessing the Scion of Casablanca. So, for Carol, there is no mystique. For me, mystique is all there is. And that’s why one has to praise these great artists, because they are with themselves all of the time and are not in the least bit impressed, quietly confident is as good as it gets.
We did this interview using Google’s Instant Messaging, which transcribes as you talk, bless them. And so there are bits where we are both discovering how to do little Googly tricks, her succeeding, me flailing away. But we both had fun, and I believe she has offered some invaluable insights into jazz and jazz singing.
me: One thing I’ve noticed is that you tread where other musicians are afraid to go. The idea that you would not only try to sing the Frank Sinatra book, but ADD to it is pretty amazing. How did you muster the courage, or were you always on the courageous side?
Carol: lol ... I don't think that cd really succeeded although I had high hopes (a song I didn't include). And I did songs he had recorded.
me: It sounded pretty darn good to me. It didn't sound like Sinatra, but how could it? It added to the tunes. When I see a guitar album and the guitarist chose a Wes tune, I think, oh boy, how's this going to turn out. Usually not that good, we guitarists are all dwarfs compared to Wes. That wasn’t the case with your Frank stuff. You went at it eye to eye.
Carol: There was never any intention with it except to acknowledge that he'd sung those songs at one time, hence the title. I used the same for the Carmen album and the concept concluded with The Songs Ella and Louis Sang
me: Right, that's a bold musical move. Even Ella did songbooks about composers, not other singers.
Carol: The idea is pretty popular now, tributes to Ella for example, to Ray Charles. Oh just name them.
me: Yes, but...they, to me, make me want to hear the original singers. Your renditions stand by themselves.
Carol: Oh, that's nice of you to say. Thank you.
me: You're going to be modest, aren't you?
Carol: It's my middle name.
me: Okay. Then let's try it from another angle. A duet with a clarinet? That's not something people without confidence do. Have you always been so bold?
Carol: Well, if the musicians are as wonderful as (Ken) Peplowski or any of the true giants I've worked with, the concept isn't bold at all. It's more the essence of jazz singing (at least as I conceive it): no unnecessary embellishment, songs stand on their own and have more impact perhaps, at least that's what I strive for.
me: Okay, it’s not bold. (Yes it is). You have worked with the best of the best. No question here, I've just noticed it. Phil Woods, George Mraz…
Carol: Jimmy Rowles, Kenny Barron, Bill Charlap, Richard Rodney Bennett, Art Farmer, Clifford Jordan, Kenny Burrell and lots more.
me: They feel honored to get the call?
Carol: Hope so. Mostly I'm just glad if they're available, and it's no lie to say they are all friends as well as colleagues. I've been around a long time. George Shearing told me long ago to always work with the best.
me: Let's talk about Kenny Burrell for a second. I noticed that you did some very intimate playing with Ken Bollenback. I don't know his style as I know Burrell's, but it seems as though Kenny usually sounds like Kenny, whereas Bollenback seemed to wrap his chords around your voice. Am I off on this perception?
Carol: Not at all. And I must confess Burrell and I only worked together on one track, on the Love You Madly cd. Bollenback is a member of my band WHEN I can get him. He's got such a terrific sense of the blues and is equally sensitive on ballads. Love the man.
me: That leads me to the next question. The later stuff is so perfectly done. I usually think, what would I play in this situation, and I was stumped. It seems as though your conception is so clear and beautiful that I would risk getting in the way. How well does your band know each other before the recording begins? Is there much rehearsal, how much is spontaneous?
Carol: Good question. I met PB at rehearsal for the "I Never Went Away" cd. Norman Simmons chose him and I couldn't have been more pleased. The band is now: Norman Simmons, Bollenback, Steve LaSpina on bass and Norman's lady-love on drums. She's just right for what I need, the band swings its a** off, and each time we do a tune, it's slightly different. Jazz is…jazz is exploration, and Norman or Paul play something new to my ears in every set ... great experience. And I wouldn't have it any other way, playing the same way each night isn't jazz. I'll be right back ... I'm going to get a glass of wine, want some?
me: Then I'll start tyopsdthol like this.
Carol: lol
me: There's another aspect to the small group, and that is that your voice implies chords. Even though only one note can come out, it sounds like there are harmonic overtones.
Carol: MY voice implies chords? I think it's the other way around. The musicians are so inventive—consistently they inspire me. The important fact is this: they treat me like a fellow musician, not the girl singer they are hired to play for.
me: They don't say this to you? That's one of the reasons I felt stumped, if you were thinking of a 7b9 and I end up playing a #9, it would feel as if I’d broken some crystal.
Carol: lol. That's very funny because I can't read a note of music. I'd only know the chord didn't sound right or might even be dead wrong. One has to KNOW the song before taking improvisatory leeway.
me: That's why they treat you like another musician. They have to listen and work like crazy, you can't just play anything behind you. It's possible to play the tune correctly and still sound like you missed something.
Carol: I suppose so ... another thing is I'm not working with kids fresh out of Berklee. I choose them because I know their own heads are filled with many of the same songs I know. That helps when we get a request or I just feel like singing something we hadn't rehearsed.
me: How is their feel? (Here’s where we were moving quickly, typing and reading, and I misunderstood what she just said. I thought I read that presently she IS working with kids fresh out of Berklee)
Carol: The best. And it's led by Norman (Simmons). His skill as an accompanist is legendary. He didn't play for Carmen, Anita, Sarah and Joe Williams and not learn a great deal about when to play and more importantly when NOT to play.
me: Ah, so it's not just a group of Berklee kids. There is a leader.
Carol: Well, I'm the leader in one sense. But I trust Norman to choose the right tempos. I choose the tunes, we all contribute.
me: Actually, and correct me if I'm wrong about this, but Berklee has musical coldness associated with it, at least it did.
Carol: Well, the kids graduating have little or no real exerience working with veteran players. Talent is one thing, the actual gig is another matter.
me: You said that you can't read a note, that only leaves singing from the heart. Could you comment on that.
Carol: I learned early on that I have a very good ear. I am not easily thrown and I worked when I was young with musicians who deliberately tested me on that. When I sing it's always as honest as I can make it, a reflection of who I am. And the music inspires my heart.
me: How did they test you?
Carol: Deliberately played the wrong chords, and then would laugh when I turned around with raised eyebrows. They knew I couldn't read music but they also quickly learned they couldn't keep me from singing the correct melody. I was able to concentrate and focus all the time.
me: You took charge of the band then?
Carol: Those particular musicians were not very professional in any sense of the word. It was a long time ago.
me: If you give them a look, it has some clout.
Carol: Like Benny's famous ray?
me: I wouldn't know your look. But Benny had business to do. I think his music allowed the guys to march across Europe, had his tunes going through their heads.
Carol: Benny was a character ... I worked with him too ... never got the ray though!
me: No, I've heard you. You wouldn't. I would.
Carol: Well, maybe not ...practice more.
me: I practice to keep up with my daughter. Do you do any workshops, work with young singers?
Carol: I haven't conducted classes in some time. I enjoyed it when I did. I subbed for an instructor some years ago at the NE Conservatory and half my students were quite dreadful, made for some tedious times. But my private group classes were a different matter, no one got in until they passed an audition.
me: I assume that several had classical training. Did that get in the way?
Carol: I never asked about it. It was clear from the start that some had, so trying to get them into a feeling of improvising wasn't easy, but I didn't allow anyone to scat. That's not jazz singing anyway.
me: Go ahead with that thought. That will turn a few heads.
Carol: As far as I'm concerned, scat singing's masters are very skilled and I appreciate their inventiveness. Scat can be very tedious and excruciating when singers use the technique just to proclaim how hip they are. Few are experienced as (Mark) Murphy, (Kurt) Elling, and (Tierney) Sutton.
me: Keep going.
Carol: That's about it really. I don't think scat singing can persuade me that the person doing it is therefore a jazz singer, some think it's proof positive. I disagree. Carmen could but didn't do much, Sarah couldn't help herself, Shirley Horn never did, I don't believe ... and I don't think Billie Holiday ever did. And they most assuredly were the voices of jazz.
me: Why do you think you and Billie had such different opinions about Oscar Peterson?
Carol: I'm not aware of what her opinion was, did she dislike him? And did she say why?
me: Said he played too much.
Carol: Well, she was dead right. He was not a great vocal accompanist, listen to his recording with Bill Henderson, it's impossible for him to play the subtle role of side-man. He's even a bit over the top when working with Fred Astaire. No: I take it back—he is over the top. I sat in with him on more than one occasion; he distracted the hell out of me, but then: my God, I was standing beside OP! THE OP!
He didn't throw me off my stride though :-)
me: This would be a smiley--oh you can do smileys? Let me try. Didn't work.
Carol: I clicked the smiley and then typed :-) ... it translated itself
me: like this? Nope. Didn’t work.
Carol: :-)
me: Show off.
Carol: Oh yeah! If you type a colon, a dash and a close paran .. it will convert itself.
me: Do you still practice, and what was your routine like when you were practicing the most? I'll try (the animated smiley) again when you answer this one.
Carol: I don't practice and I used to agonize about it, but I'm too lazy. Now I take medication to help with performance anxiety and nothing much bothers me anymore. I used to be sick before every performance. I nearly hyperventilated on stage at Carnegie Hall once.
me: Nope (no smiley). So if there ever was a natural, you're it.
Carol: Well, I know I need to warm a little before I perform but I haven't been put to the test for a long time, last time in NY I was only asked to sing once song, hardly seemed worth the train trip down and back. One song.
me: So, to summarize the last few points, your idea of jazz is more of a group interplay, the spontaneity of the musicians, not the vocal improvisation?
Carol: The musicians are playing for me and enhance my singing by choosing inventive chords, knowing the right moments to slip in an extra chord or lick. And so it's a two-way street; they play for me but we all work together. It blends into one element at times and then it's all me. If they do their job right, the audience focuses on me and my singing, not in some cases, realizing that I sound that good because I am surrounded with the most beautiful frame.
me: Does your band rehearse a lot?
Carol: We're lucky if we can at least get a sound check on the afternoon of the night we open.
me: But by now you know each other very well. Did it take long to get that level of familiarity?
Carol: Not really, but we grow more mellow and comfortable with each engagement we play, just not often enough. But then, I'm withdrawing from it all a bit. I hate to fly, there aren’t many clubs or really nice rooms outside of Boston and New York, one or two in LA but they don't pay enough to make the trip worthwhile. It's difficult for many.
me: Have you seen your discography on either Amazon or CD Universe?
Carol: I see it at my web site ... why do you ask?
me: To see if there's anything that we all need to hear but they may not have.
Carol: Who they? And how will they hear if with jazz radio in this country in such a mess, being replaced by ‘talk’ or ‘light rock’ formats. Which reminds me: I was listening to KCMS today. Did you ever investigate those urls I gave you? KCSM I mean, WICN, WGBO?
me: Didn't get to them. I think I'm holding out hope that WSIE will stream. The ‘they’ is Amazon and CD Universe. And if they don't have some, we go to the expert shops, like Vintage Vinyl in St. Louis. They seem to have the ability to find anything.
Carol: But a lot of my stuff is OOP or very expensive in Japan or occasionally at auction at ebay, AND a lot is still circulating of course.
me: What are your favorites?
Carol: Of mine?
me: Is there someone else typing here?
Carol: lol ... Dearest Duke and Love You Madly…
me: Okay, I think I'm running out of questions--actually we're getting so silly that I might end on this--did Grady Tate sing for you? I saw he played on one of your albums.
Carol: He sang with me on a cd called The Real Thing, and we have sung together live in performance. Before we finish here: any idea what happens if I click Options and/or Pop-Out ... not as in wardrobe malfunction but I'm curious.
me: Well, on pop-out, nothing happens other that I wait. Options, I've never done. But I'm hoping that when we finish this whole thing is transcribed in my in box.
Carol: I'll get this ... how hard can it be for a woman who has been known to sing Lush Life a capella? Thanks for the chat
me: Okay. Thank you. I'll sign off and hope to hell this transcribes. Talk to you soon.
Carol: Fine ... happy to answer more if you wish ... Ciao
me: Roger and out.
We did this interview using Google’s Instant Messaging, which transcribes as you talk, bless them. And so there are bits where we are both discovering how to do little Googly tricks, her succeeding, me flailing away. But we both had fun, and I believe she has offered some invaluable insights into jazz and jazz singing.
me: One thing I’ve noticed is that you tread where other musicians are afraid to go. The idea that you would not only try to sing the Frank Sinatra book, but ADD to it is pretty amazing. How did you muster the courage, or were you always on the courageous side?
Carol: lol ... I don't think that cd really succeeded although I had high hopes (a song I didn't include). And I did songs he had recorded.
me: It sounded pretty darn good to me. It didn't sound like Sinatra, but how could it? It added to the tunes. When I see a guitar album and the guitarist chose a Wes tune, I think, oh boy, how's this going to turn out. Usually not that good, we guitarists are all dwarfs compared to Wes. That wasn’t the case with your Frank stuff. You went at it eye to eye.
Carol: There was never any intention with it except to acknowledge that he'd sung those songs at one time, hence the title. I used the same for the Carmen album and the concept concluded with The Songs Ella and Louis Sang
me: Right, that's a bold musical move. Even Ella did songbooks about composers, not other singers.
Carol: The idea is pretty popular now, tributes to Ella for example, to Ray Charles. Oh just name them.
me: Yes, but...they, to me, make me want to hear the original singers. Your renditions stand by themselves.
Carol: Oh, that's nice of you to say. Thank you.
me: You're going to be modest, aren't you?
Carol: It's my middle name.
me: Okay. Then let's try it from another angle. A duet with a clarinet? That's not something people without confidence do. Have you always been so bold?
Carol: Well, if the musicians are as wonderful as (Ken) Peplowski or any of the true giants I've worked with, the concept isn't bold at all. It's more the essence of jazz singing (at least as I conceive it): no unnecessary embellishment, songs stand on their own and have more impact perhaps, at least that's what I strive for.
me: Okay, it’s not bold. (Yes it is). You have worked with the best of the best. No question here, I've just noticed it. Phil Woods, George Mraz…
Carol: Jimmy Rowles, Kenny Barron, Bill Charlap, Richard Rodney Bennett, Art Farmer, Clifford Jordan, Kenny Burrell and lots more.
me: They feel honored to get the call?
Carol: Hope so. Mostly I'm just glad if they're available, and it's no lie to say they are all friends as well as colleagues. I've been around a long time. George Shearing told me long ago to always work with the best.
me: Let's talk about Kenny Burrell for a second. I noticed that you did some very intimate playing with Ken Bollenback. I don't know his style as I know Burrell's, but it seems as though Kenny usually sounds like Kenny, whereas Bollenback seemed to wrap his chords around your voice. Am I off on this perception?
Carol: Not at all. And I must confess Burrell and I only worked together on one track, on the Love You Madly cd. Bollenback is a member of my band WHEN I can get him. He's got such a terrific sense of the blues and is equally sensitive on ballads. Love the man.
me: That leads me to the next question. The later stuff is so perfectly done. I usually think, what would I play in this situation, and I was stumped. It seems as though your conception is so clear and beautiful that I would risk getting in the way. How well does your band know each other before the recording begins? Is there much rehearsal, how much is spontaneous?
Carol: Good question. I met PB at rehearsal for the "I Never Went Away" cd. Norman Simmons chose him and I couldn't have been more pleased. The band is now: Norman Simmons, Bollenback, Steve LaSpina on bass and Norman's lady-love on drums. She's just right for what I need, the band swings its a** off, and each time we do a tune, it's slightly different. Jazz is…jazz is exploration, and Norman or Paul play something new to my ears in every set ... great experience. And I wouldn't have it any other way, playing the same way each night isn't jazz. I'll be right back ... I'm going to get a glass of wine, want some?
me: Then I'll start tyopsdthol like this.
Carol: lol
me: There's another aspect to the small group, and that is that your voice implies chords. Even though only one note can come out, it sounds like there are harmonic overtones.
Carol: MY voice implies chords? I think it's the other way around. The musicians are so inventive—consistently they inspire me. The important fact is this: they treat me like a fellow musician, not the girl singer they are hired to play for.
me: They don't say this to you? That's one of the reasons I felt stumped, if you were thinking of a 7b9 and I end up playing a #9, it would feel as if I’d broken some crystal.
Carol: lol. That's very funny because I can't read a note of music. I'd only know the chord didn't sound right or might even be dead wrong. One has to KNOW the song before taking improvisatory leeway.
me: That's why they treat you like another musician. They have to listen and work like crazy, you can't just play anything behind you. It's possible to play the tune correctly and still sound like you missed something.
Carol: I suppose so ... another thing is I'm not working with kids fresh out of Berklee. I choose them because I know their own heads are filled with many of the same songs I know. That helps when we get a request or I just feel like singing something we hadn't rehearsed.
me: How is their feel? (Here’s where we were moving quickly, typing and reading, and I misunderstood what she just said. I thought I read that presently she IS working with kids fresh out of Berklee)
Carol: The best. And it's led by Norman (Simmons). His skill as an accompanist is legendary. He didn't play for Carmen, Anita, Sarah and Joe Williams and not learn a great deal about when to play and more importantly when NOT to play.
me: Ah, so it's not just a group of Berklee kids. There is a leader.
Carol: Well, I'm the leader in one sense. But I trust Norman to choose the right tempos. I choose the tunes, we all contribute.
me: Actually, and correct me if I'm wrong about this, but Berklee has musical coldness associated with it, at least it did.
Carol: Well, the kids graduating have little or no real exerience working with veteran players. Talent is one thing, the actual gig is another matter.
me: You said that you can't read a note, that only leaves singing from the heart. Could you comment on that.
Carol: I learned early on that I have a very good ear. I am not easily thrown and I worked when I was young with musicians who deliberately tested me on that. When I sing it's always as honest as I can make it, a reflection of who I am. And the music inspires my heart.
me: How did they test you?
Carol: Deliberately played the wrong chords, and then would laugh when I turned around with raised eyebrows. They knew I couldn't read music but they also quickly learned they couldn't keep me from singing the correct melody. I was able to concentrate and focus all the time.
me: You took charge of the band then?
Carol: Those particular musicians were not very professional in any sense of the word. It was a long time ago.
me: If you give them a look, it has some clout.
Carol: Like Benny's famous ray?
me: I wouldn't know your look. But Benny had business to do. I think his music allowed the guys to march across Europe, had his tunes going through their heads.
Carol: Benny was a character ... I worked with him too ... never got the ray though!
me: No, I've heard you. You wouldn't. I would.
Carol: Well, maybe not ...practice more.
me: I practice to keep up with my daughter. Do you do any workshops, work with young singers?
Carol: I haven't conducted classes in some time. I enjoyed it when I did. I subbed for an instructor some years ago at the NE Conservatory and half my students were quite dreadful, made for some tedious times. But my private group classes were a different matter, no one got in until they passed an audition.
me: I assume that several had classical training. Did that get in the way?
Carol: I never asked about it. It was clear from the start that some had, so trying to get them into a feeling of improvising wasn't easy, but I didn't allow anyone to scat. That's not jazz singing anyway.
me: Go ahead with that thought. That will turn a few heads.
Carol: As far as I'm concerned, scat singing's masters are very skilled and I appreciate their inventiveness. Scat can be very tedious and excruciating when singers use the technique just to proclaim how hip they are. Few are experienced as (Mark) Murphy, (Kurt) Elling, and (Tierney) Sutton.
me: Keep going.
Carol: That's about it really. I don't think scat singing can persuade me that the person doing it is therefore a jazz singer, some think it's proof positive. I disagree. Carmen could but didn't do much, Sarah couldn't help herself, Shirley Horn never did, I don't believe ... and I don't think Billie Holiday ever did. And they most assuredly were the voices of jazz.
me: Why do you think you and Billie had such different opinions about Oscar Peterson?
Carol: I'm not aware of what her opinion was, did she dislike him? And did she say why?
me: Said he played too much.
Carol: Well, she was dead right. He was not a great vocal accompanist, listen to his recording with Bill Henderson, it's impossible for him to play the subtle role of side-man. He's even a bit over the top when working with Fred Astaire. No: I take it back—he is over the top. I sat in with him on more than one occasion; he distracted the hell out of me, but then: my God, I was standing beside OP! THE OP!
He didn't throw me off my stride though :-)
me: This would be a smiley--oh you can do smileys? Let me try. Didn't work.
Carol: I clicked the smiley and then typed :-) ... it translated itself
me: like this? Nope. Didn’t work.
Carol: :-)
me: Show off.
Carol: Oh yeah! If you type a colon, a dash and a close paran .. it will convert itself.
me: Do you still practice, and what was your routine like when you were practicing the most? I'll try (the animated smiley) again when you answer this one.
Carol: I don't practice and I used to agonize about it, but I'm too lazy. Now I take medication to help with performance anxiety and nothing much bothers me anymore. I used to be sick before every performance. I nearly hyperventilated on stage at Carnegie Hall once.
me: Nope (no smiley). So if there ever was a natural, you're it.
Carol: Well, I know I need to warm a little before I perform but I haven't been put to the test for a long time, last time in NY I was only asked to sing once song, hardly seemed worth the train trip down and back. One song.
me: So, to summarize the last few points, your idea of jazz is more of a group interplay, the spontaneity of the musicians, not the vocal improvisation?
Carol: The musicians are playing for me and enhance my singing by choosing inventive chords, knowing the right moments to slip in an extra chord or lick. And so it's a two-way street; they play for me but we all work together. It blends into one element at times and then it's all me. If they do their job right, the audience focuses on me and my singing, not in some cases, realizing that I sound that good because I am surrounded with the most beautiful frame.
me: Does your band rehearse a lot?
Carol: We're lucky if we can at least get a sound check on the afternoon of the night we open.
me: But by now you know each other very well. Did it take long to get that level of familiarity?
Carol: Not really, but we grow more mellow and comfortable with each engagement we play, just not often enough. But then, I'm withdrawing from it all a bit. I hate to fly, there aren’t many clubs or really nice rooms outside of Boston and New York, one or two in LA but they don't pay enough to make the trip worthwhile. It's difficult for many.
me: Have you seen your discography on either Amazon or CD Universe?
Carol: I see it at my web site ... why do you ask?
me: To see if there's anything that we all need to hear but they may not have.
Carol: Who they? And how will they hear if with jazz radio in this country in such a mess, being replaced by ‘talk’ or ‘light rock’ formats. Which reminds me: I was listening to KCMS today. Did you ever investigate those urls I gave you? KCSM I mean, WICN, WGBO?
me: Didn't get to them. I think I'm holding out hope that WSIE will stream. The ‘they’ is Amazon and CD Universe. And if they don't have some, we go to the expert shops, like Vintage Vinyl in St. Louis. They seem to have the ability to find anything.
Carol: But a lot of my stuff is OOP or very expensive in Japan or occasionally at auction at ebay, AND a lot is still circulating of course.
me: What are your favorites?
Carol: Of mine?
me: Is there someone else typing here?
Carol: lol ... Dearest Duke and Love You Madly…
me: Okay, I think I'm running out of questions--actually we're getting so silly that I might end on this--did Grady Tate sing for you? I saw he played on one of your albums.
Carol: He sang with me on a cd called The Real Thing, and we have sung together live in performance. Before we finish here: any idea what happens if I click Options and/or Pop-Out ... not as in wardrobe malfunction but I'm curious.
me: Well, on pop-out, nothing happens other that I wait. Options, I've never done. But I'm hoping that when we finish this whole thing is transcribed in my in box.
Carol: I'll get this ... how hard can it be for a woman who has been known to sing Lush Life a capella? Thanks for the chat
me: Okay. Thank you. I'll sign off and hope to hell this transcribes. Talk to you soon.
Carol: Fine ... happy to answer more if you wish ... Ciao
me: Roger and out.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Two Degrees of Separation, Greg Osby and Me
Sometimes the idea of ‘the public’ isn’t so nebulous. And with the issue of Chet Baker on Youtube, the public is showing a stand for principle, and even courage. They are well aware of the Chet purge, and have decided to dare Toronto into spending every minute of every business day trying to stop what only promises to be a deluge of Chet appearances on Youtube. There is wisdom in their conviction, that Youtube will only shut down sites, which will reappear under different names, and people will see Chet Baker. It will dawn on Chet Baker Toronto that they are spending all day stopping people who want to hear Chet Baker from hearing Chet Baker. Precious neurons in the collective Toronto Chet Brains will pop.
But this expression of will by the public, the refusal to be intimidated the Chet Baker Foundation of Toronto, this is what will take us to the next level—which I will describe below.
And so the public is showing what Billy Wilder described as a collective intelligence. He quoted Lubitsch, that individually the public may not be so smart, but collectively they are indeed smart. Odd thing. But judging from Wilder’s and Lubitsch’s movies, they do know something.
Many large corporations don’t see it that way, preferring to go with the line attributed to P.T. Barnum, no one ever went broke underestimating the intelligence of the American public. And so record companies, publishing companies, movie companies, television networks, all tend to feed us watered down books, over produced recordings of people without talent, and lame-brained shows, about which many folks simply do not care.
Many artists make the same mistake, exploring their art in a disconnected way, not tapping into the collective wisdom and beauty within us, but choosing to create things which do not move us, do not touch us in any way. The artist simply interprets this as their art being too advanced for the public.
This brings me to two interviews I read and listened to this week. One with Barney Kessel, recorded in the sixties, one more recent, with saxophonist Greg Osby, who is from what will always be my hometown of St. Louis.
Kessel stressed, over and over, that the artist must go to great lengths to connect with the audience. The situation with Osby is more complex, that ended nevertheless, in abandoning the effort to make the connection, choosing instead to see the audience as not able to grasp what he is playing. In other words, an uncompromising P.T. Barnum.
As I said, the Osby situation is more complex. I spoke this week with former employers, who said only the kindest words about him. I remember playing in clubs when, during breaks between sets, we would talk about Osby, that he learned to play before he went to school, and that seems to be the way to beat the assembly line aspect of music schools, to learn to play before you go. That’s affected the way I raise my children, to prepare them before school can slow them down. And so without ever having met him, his influence is felt in my home, felt by my children who’ve never even heard of Greg Osby, who always traveled in pathways outside of established institutions, because those institutions simply could not meet his needs—to help him to grow at the pace he preferred.
This still leaves us with the question that every artist must answer, who is the public? Osby spoke of not being able to get gigs, and that, without the support of his producer, he would have no outlet whatsoever—his music, in other words, would fall in the woods with no one to hear the sounds. And so once again, without having met Greg Osby, he has taught me a valuable lesson about life, one I will certainly teach to my children, that one must work on the assumptions of Ernst Lubitsch, Billy Wilder, and Barney Kessel, and that we can see to be demonstrated by the public’s determination to hear and see Chet Baker, despite the institutions that are trying to stop this from occurring.
And now for the unveiling of what I promised. It's not really an unveiling, since I'm actually behind the curve. Our present technology is suggesting the possibilities, which are being worked on as I write this. It is a new economy, no longer dependent on large institutions, but eventually returning to the cottage industries, where individual artists can produce their own work, can use file sharing and streaming video to promote their work, and where artists and the folks who purchase the art, will think nothing of using Paypal, or it’s next incarnation, to allow the musicians and writers and artists to display what is in their hearts, and where folks will think nothing of supporting them with one, five, or ten dollars. It seems as if everyone knows this, and it appears as though this hard to define notion of public is working towards this. Hardly a mystery, hardly needs any unveiling. But the faster this becomes reality, the better it will be.
It is not unlike the invention of the car, where the possibilities presented themselves immediately, except that there were no roads. Eventually, the idea of getting in the car, of everyone even having a car, to travel the roads to get our basic needs met, this is now common sense. It happened once, I suspect it will happen again. But right now, the idea of the internet being completely free, an obstacle. I think we’ll get over it. It will be a good day when it does. It is always a good day when people can express their inner beauty.
But this expression of will by the public, the refusal to be intimidated the Chet Baker Foundation of Toronto, this is what will take us to the next level—which I will describe below.
And so the public is showing what Billy Wilder described as a collective intelligence. He quoted Lubitsch, that individually the public may not be so smart, but collectively they are indeed smart. Odd thing. But judging from Wilder’s and Lubitsch’s movies, they do know something.
Many large corporations don’t see it that way, preferring to go with the line attributed to P.T. Barnum, no one ever went broke underestimating the intelligence of the American public. And so record companies, publishing companies, movie companies, television networks, all tend to feed us watered down books, over produced recordings of people without talent, and lame-brained shows, about which many folks simply do not care.
Many artists make the same mistake, exploring their art in a disconnected way, not tapping into the collective wisdom and beauty within us, but choosing to create things which do not move us, do not touch us in any way. The artist simply interprets this as their art being too advanced for the public.
This brings me to two interviews I read and listened to this week. One with Barney Kessel, recorded in the sixties, one more recent, with saxophonist Greg Osby, who is from what will always be my hometown of St. Louis.
Kessel stressed, over and over, that the artist must go to great lengths to connect with the audience. The situation with Osby is more complex, that ended nevertheless, in abandoning the effort to make the connection, choosing instead to see the audience as not able to grasp what he is playing. In other words, an uncompromising P.T. Barnum.
As I said, the Osby situation is more complex. I spoke this week with former employers, who said only the kindest words about him. I remember playing in clubs when, during breaks between sets, we would talk about Osby, that he learned to play before he went to school, and that seems to be the way to beat the assembly line aspect of music schools, to learn to play before you go. That’s affected the way I raise my children, to prepare them before school can slow them down. And so without ever having met him, his influence is felt in my home, felt by my children who’ve never even heard of Greg Osby, who always traveled in pathways outside of established institutions, because those institutions simply could not meet his needs—to help him to grow at the pace he preferred.
This still leaves us with the question that every artist must answer, who is the public? Osby spoke of not being able to get gigs, and that, without the support of his producer, he would have no outlet whatsoever—his music, in other words, would fall in the woods with no one to hear the sounds. And so once again, without having met Greg Osby, he has taught me a valuable lesson about life, one I will certainly teach to my children, that one must work on the assumptions of Ernst Lubitsch, Billy Wilder, and Barney Kessel, and that we can see to be demonstrated by the public’s determination to hear and see Chet Baker, despite the institutions that are trying to stop this from occurring.
And now for the unveiling of what I promised. It's not really an unveiling, since I'm actually behind the curve. Our present technology is suggesting the possibilities, which are being worked on as I write this. It is a new economy, no longer dependent on large institutions, but eventually returning to the cottage industries, where individual artists can produce their own work, can use file sharing and streaming video to promote their work, and where artists and the folks who purchase the art, will think nothing of using Paypal, or it’s next incarnation, to allow the musicians and writers and artists to display what is in their hearts, and where folks will think nothing of supporting them with one, five, or ten dollars. It seems as if everyone knows this, and it appears as though this hard to define notion of public is working towards this. Hardly a mystery, hardly needs any unveiling. But the faster this becomes reality, the better it will be.
It is not unlike the invention of the car, where the possibilities presented themselves immediately, except that there were no roads. Eventually, the idea of getting in the car, of everyone even having a car, to travel the roads to get our basic needs met, this is now common sense. It happened once, I suspect it will happen again. But right now, the idea of the internet being completely free, an obstacle. I think we’ll get over it. It will be a good day when it does. It is always a good day when people can express their inner beauty.
Saturday, February 9, 2008
The Benny Clark Bar
I’ve saved to my Youtube favorites some 1967 footage of a Benny Goodman small group. Benny was playing with Zoot Sims, Clark Terry, Ed O’Shaughnessy, Milt Hinton, and Hank Jones. And by chance I listened to a Clark Terry recording on which one cut was an interview with Clark. In the beginning of the Benny band, Benny interviews his band members about what they feel, what they think about when playing, when soloing. It was another instance of Benny Goodman having a stethoscope on our collective hearts, where Carl Jung could only get as close as the Earth is to Pluto.
I think I can guess why Benny did this in 1967, and I think I know why Clark did this in 1995. They were saying the same things, they were responding to the same trend, which Benny saw before anyone else—showing up at various university Jazz programs in 1965 and 1966, venerated no doubt, but with the trimmings of a relic of a much less sophisticated age. He was asked what he plays over a m7b5 chord, he was asked which mode he prefers to play over blues, was asked how best to learn to emphasize thirds and sevenths of chords when soloing. From this, he knew jazz was in deep deep trouble. Somehow, in our climb up the mountain of jazz aesthetics, someone hammered a pick into the heart of the music and it fell to the earth like a big chunk of rock that turned to gravel as it hit the ground. And no one knew it, except for old relics like himself and his band. Actually, I’m not sure if Zoot Sims knew, because the whole concept of putting concepts on music was so strange he could barely speak.
What do you feel when you solo? Benny asked. What are you thinking about? Zoot answered with a nice long Uhhhhh, before getting to it. I guess I just to try feel happy and think about being happy. All the way around the band—Ed O'Shaughnessy said it all gets down to feeling good, you have to know your instrument, but there has to be a short passage from your heart to your mind. Hank Jones just said he’s trying to create a rhythm, since he’s in the rhythm section, and he’s just trying to help out. Can you imagine the educational beating these guys would take today—if they were freshmen in a major college music program? If they hadn’t already done everything a musician could do, including changing the whole idea of how the world thinks and feels about music?
Now class, it seems that young Mr. Sims here is having trouble grasping the concept that he needs to understand what he’s playing—and Mr. Sims, if that attitude doesn’t change soon I’m afraid you won’t last very long in this program. It’s all well and good to feel happy, but this is a college, you are here for a degree in music, and if you insist that feeling good is so important I suggest that you hang out at the nearest bar and have a few drinks instead of going to class. Is that clear Mr. Sims? Mr. Goodman and Mr. Terry can join him if they think this is so funny.
Update on the Chet Baker Foundation:
Clues abound. First I contacted the Chet Baker Foundation in Toronto, went to the Contact Us page, filled out my email address and wrote the following:
My name is Bob Levin, and I write a jazzblog. I am presently covering the controversy involving Youtube, that several sites were shut down which contained footage of Chet Baker. The proprietors of these site claim that a complaint from the Chet Baker Foundation is the reason the sites were shut down. Presently there is no footage of Chet Baker on Youtube. I would like someone to contact, with whom I can correspond regarding this issue, to hopefully resolve it for the benefit of jazz itself.
Thank you for your time.
Then I clicked on Send Message, and this is what happened:
Not Found
The requested URL /chetbaker/mailer.php was not found on this server.
________________________________________
Apache/2.2.0 (Fedora) Server at www.thinkflo.com Port 80
Hmmmmm.
I think I can guess why Benny did this in 1967, and I think I know why Clark did this in 1995. They were saying the same things, they were responding to the same trend, which Benny saw before anyone else—showing up at various university Jazz programs in 1965 and 1966, venerated no doubt, but with the trimmings of a relic of a much less sophisticated age. He was asked what he plays over a m7b5 chord, he was asked which mode he prefers to play over blues, was asked how best to learn to emphasize thirds and sevenths of chords when soloing. From this, he knew jazz was in deep deep trouble. Somehow, in our climb up the mountain of jazz aesthetics, someone hammered a pick into the heart of the music and it fell to the earth like a big chunk of rock that turned to gravel as it hit the ground. And no one knew it, except for old relics like himself and his band. Actually, I’m not sure if Zoot Sims knew, because the whole concept of putting concepts on music was so strange he could barely speak.
What do you feel when you solo? Benny asked. What are you thinking about? Zoot answered with a nice long Uhhhhh, before getting to it. I guess I just to try feel happy and think about being happy. All the way around the band—Ed O'Shaughnessy said it all gets down to feeling good, you have to know your instrument, but there has to be a short passage from your heart to your mind. Hank Jones just said he’s trying to create a rhythm, since he’s in the rhythm section, and he’s just trying to help out. Can you imagine the educational beating these guys would take today—if they were freshmen in a major college music program? If they hadn’t already done everything a musician could do, including changing the whole idea of how the world thinks and feels about music?
Now class, it seems that young Mr. Sims here is having trouble grasping the concept that he needs to understand what he’s playing—and Mr. Sims, if that attitude doesn’t change soon I’m afraid you won’t last very long in this program. It’s all well and good to feel happy, but this is a college, you are here for a degree in music, and if you insist that feeling good is so important I suggest that you hang out at the nearest bar and have a few drinks instead of going to class. Is that clear Mr. Sims? Mr. Goodman and Mr. Terry can join him if they think this is so funny.
Update on the Chet Baker Foundation:
Clues abound. First I contacted the Chet Baker Foundation in Toronto, went to the Contact Us page, filled out my email address and wrote the following:
My name is Bob Levin, and I write a jazzblog. I am presently covering the controversy involving Youtube, that several sites were shut down which contained footage of Chet Baker. The proprietors of these site claim that a complaint from the Chet Baker Foundation is the reason the sites were shut down. Presently there is no footage of Chet Baker on Youtube. I would like someone to contact, with whom I can correspond regarding this issue, to hopefully resolve it for the benefit of jazz itself.
Thank you for your time.
Then I clicked on Send Message, and this is what happened:
Not Found
The requested URL /chetbaker/mailer.php was not found on this server.
________________________________________
Apache/2.2.0 (Fedora) Server at www.thinkflo.com Port 80
Hmmmmm.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Music Theory II: The Carrollian Mode
If you are taking the time to read a jazz blog, it can only be because you love jazz. There are so many more important things to read, the music is almost dead, not completely dead, but almost dead—to steal a line from the Princess Bride. So it’s got to be love. There are players we all love, there are players we argue about, there are styles we argue about—but all of it comes from the love of jazz.
And we also know that at the end of the day, the decline in jazz popularity comes from the musicians themselves, that somehow the music became the most passionate and inspiring music in the history of the world despite the astounding level of self-destructiveness among those so gifted. We can argue about the different levels of this behavior, who hurt jazz the most, but we know that the soul heat this music could generate, as often as not, came from soul nitro, with the expected consequences. So, we’ve moved from Orwell to Lewis Carroll and have taken a step through the looking glass.
That being said, we are faced with a bit of a problem, same problem, different form. And so I must move from my halfway poetry to halfway journalism and try to get some facts straight.
So here are the facts. Youtube exists. (I’m really starting at the bottom of this pyramid, aren’t I?) My nephew told me I must check this thing out because I can see footage of my favorite jazz musicians. Ah. So I began to surf this new thing, and lo and behold, there were others who were not just surfing, but continually posting some of the finest music I’ve heard. I’ve been playing guitar for years, heard just about every note Wes Montgomery recorded, but I had never seem him play. I’d never seen or could conceive of how he saw the guitar neck. But there he was. He glows when he plays. Like Marilyn Monroe gives off sex appeal, Wes glows with true beauty. A remarkable sight. I discovered the genius of Barney Kessel—just seeing him with a not-so-famous trio, doing things on the guitar that just weren’t possible, and seeing him during his solo, force himself into areas where he truly did not know what was going to happen next—as in whether or not he would be able to play the next lines or chords at all. Who does that anymore? Solos to the precipice then walks two steps over. Just inspiring. It wasn’t just guitarists, but so many others, Frank Rosolino. If you don’t live on the West Coast, if you’re below a certain age, who knew how brilliantly he played, who knew the tragic story of his life? My jazz appreciation and skill took a quantum leap upward because of Youtube. The same applies to Chet Baker. I have one of his records, but just to watch him play—he played more music when he wasn’t playing than most musicians play when they’re playing. (Take your time on that sentence, I wrote it and still have to read it twice.)
Not just Youtube—it’s just a computer program. It was the people posting. Such as Itsartolie. I’ve never asked, but I believe when I was collecting baseball cards and reading comic books, he was collecting jazz music, film, pictures, and videos. And so, given the restrictions of Youtube, of this computer program, he posted nearly 600 videos. I watched every one of them. Not only did I watch, but so did 1500 other folks who took the time to subscribe to his stuff. His videos were watched nearly 4,000,000—take your time, I didn’t make a mistake there—4,000,000 times. And he would get hundreds of emails during the day thanking him for his service and probably a few wondering why he let’s me keep commenting when I clearly don’t know what I’m talking about (see my Miles Davis post). As he commented yesterday, he would get letters from family members of deceased jazz players who were tearfully grateful that someone was showing the greatness and skill of their loved one, playing in their prime, so that children and grandchildren could see a young man playing instead of an old man in assisted living. This is all invaluable.
And then one day this email comes to Itsartolie from Youtube:
---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: Copyright Notice
Date: 29 Jan 2008 22:42
Subject: Video Removed: Copyright Infringement
To: itsartolie
YouTube | Broadcast Yourself™
Dear Member:
This is to notify you that we have removed or disabled access to the following material as a result of a third-party notification by Chet Baker Foundation claiming that this material is infringing:
Chet Baker 1986 - Shifting Down: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E73tR7ap8Ig
Please Note: Repeat incidents of copyright infringement will result in the deletion of your account and all videos uploaded to that account. In order to prevent this from happening, please delete any videos to which you do not own the rights, and refrain from uploading additional videos that infringe on the copyrights of others. For more information about YouTube's copyright policy, please read the Copyright Tips guide.
If you elect to send us a counter notice, please go to our Help Center to access the instructions.
Please note that under Section 512(f) of the Copyright Act, any person who knowingly materially misrepresents that material or activity was removed or disabled by mistake or misidentification may be subject to liability.
Sincerely,
YouTube, Inc.
Copyright © 2007 YouTube, Inc.
________________________________________
And so his site was shut down. Please note the ‘please note’ paragraph. Anyone who can write a basic sentence in English knows that this paragraph has nothing to do with basic English. And so I asked Itsartolie, whose first language is not English, to translate into English this apparently English sentence. This is how he explained it:
It really means that if access is restricted on my Youtube videos and I am certain that I own this material, I can claim it back. But, caveat emptor, if I bullshit them the offended party (the rightful owner that is) could sue my ass to his heart's content.
Okay, that’s English.
And now we come to the moment of international intrigue. The Chet Baker Foundation in Oklahoma denies it did this. In fact, in my comments section, one of the directors said so much. Well, okay, but this is curious. And there’s another Chet Baker Foundation in Canada (International Intrigue!) that might have done this. So now, using our best retention of Sherlock Holmes methods (you know my methods Watson, use them!), we have many hypotheses. One is that the Oklahoma Chet Baker Foundation is not telling the truth, another is that the board of the Oklahoma Chet Baker Foundation doesn’t know what the day to day administrative Chet Baker Foundation of Oklahoma is doing, another is that the Chet Baker Foundation of Oklahoma is telling the complete truth—which would then point to the Chet Baker Foundation of Canada that is doing the great harm to jazz. And the answer is—I don’t know and I never will. It will only become curiouser and curiouser.
But some Chet Baker Foundation might have the power to restore the site of Itsartolie, and restore and assist in their given mission. I’m not saying that they can—this is Youtube we’re talking about, but they might. And they should try. So I will help them, because they need to know which material is in dispute. Again, let’s find out from the source, Itsartolie:
Love for Sale
My Ideal
Just Friends
Helen David
interview by Elvis Costello
The Very Thought of You (w/ Costello)
If I Should Lose You
You Don't Know What Love Is (w/ Costello)
Shifting Down
It is worth mentioning that on 1/12/08 I got the exact same email for the Chet/Van Morrison performance of Send In The Clowns but this time third party was VAN MORRISON / POLYDOR.
At any rate, all these performances come from a single DVD called CHET BAKER LIVE AT RONNIE SCOTT'S PERFORMING WITH ELVIS COSTELLO AND VAN MORRISON issued by RHINO HOME VIDEO.
Apart from these and the Sinatra issue I had no other infringement trouble, so in essence it was only two instances.”
And there we have it. Who owns the copyrights to these? Is it possible to give written permission for Itsartolie to post them, since his work is most definitely helping the Chets Bakers Foundations. Is it possible after this is figured out, to tell Youtube that we, the Chets involved, withdraw our complaint, please let Itsartolie resume his most important work? Yes.
Is this actually a family squabble that all jazz lovers must now suffer? Could be. And that of course would get back to jazz being jazz’s worst enemy. These are questions that I can’t answer, I can’t write about anymore.
But we will know the truth shortly. If the Chet Baker Foundation in Oklahoma chooses to do nothing about this, then it’s a legitimate question to ask how much they actually care about their mission. If they contact the Canadian side of the coin to find out who has the rights to this material, and a fight ensues, we know that jazz must continue to fight jazz in order for jazz to be preserved. It’s life through the looking glass. And if both Chets get it worked out and Youtube is unresponsive, then I’ll be happy to write a post about Youtube trying to kill jazz while allowing its many virulently racist and anti-Semitic posts to remain.
We will also know the truth if someone from Chets tries to contact Itsartolie. I’ll be happy to help with that.
A friend told me years ago, you vote with your feet. In other words, people can say anything, the truth emerges from their actions. So, let’s hope for a happy ending, but the cynical Benjamin in me will not get my hopes up.
And this is the Carrollian Mode.
And we also know that at the end of the day, the decline in jazz popularity comes from the musicians themselves, that somehow the music became the most passionate and inspiring music in the history of the world despite the astounding level of self-destructiveness among those so gifted. We can argue about the different levels of this behavior, who hurt jazz the most, but we know that the soul heat this music could generate, as often as not, came from soul nitro, with the expected consequences. So, we’ve moved from Orwell to Lewis Carroll and have taken a step through the looking glass.
That being said, we are faced with a bit of a problem, same problem, different form. And so I must move from my halfway poetry to halfway journalism and try to get some facts straight.
So here are the facts. Youtube exists. (I’m really starting at the bottom of this pyramid, aren’t I?) My nephew told me I must check this thing out because I can see footage of my favorite jazz musicians. Ah. So I began to surf this new thing, and lo and behold, there were others who were not just surfing, but continually posting some of the finest music I’ve heard. I’ve been playing guitar for years, heard just about every note Wes Montgomery recorded, but I had never seem him play. I’d never seen or could conceive of how he saw the guitar neck. But there he was. He glows when he plays. Like Marilyn Monroe gives off sex appeal, Wes glows with true beauty. A remarkable sight. I discovered the genius of Barney Kessel—just seeing him with a not-so-famous trio, doing things on the guitar that just weren’t possible, and seeing him during his solo, force himself into areas where he truly did not know what was going to happen next—as in whether or not he would be able to play the next lines or chords at all. Who does that anymore? Solos to the precipice then walks two steps over. Just inspiring. It wasn’t just guitarists, but so many others, Frank Rosolino. If you don’t live on the West Coast, if you’re below a certain age, who knew how brilliantly he played, who knew the tragic story of his life? My jazz appreciation and skill took a quantum leap upward because of Youtube. The same applies to Chet Baker. I have one of his records, but just to watch him play—he played more music when he wasn’t playing than most musicians play when they’re playing. (Take your time on that sentence, I wrote it and still have to read it twice.)
Not just Youtube—it’s just a computer program. It was the people posting. Such as Itsartolie. I’ve never asked, but I believe when I was collecting baseball cards and reading comic books, he was collecting jazz music, film, pictures, and videos. And so, given the restrictions of Youtube, of this computer program, he posted nearly 600 videos. I watched every one of them. Not only did I watch, but so did 1500 other folks who took the time to subscribe to his stuff. His videos were watched nearly 4,000,000—take your time, I didn’t make a mistake there—4,000,000 times. And he would get hundreds of emails during the day thanking him for his service and probably a few wondering why he let’s me keep commenting when I clearly don’t know what I’m talking about (see my Miles Davis post). As he commented yesterday, he would get letters from family members of deceased jazz players who were tearfully grateful that someone was showing the greatness and skill of their loved one, playing in their prime, so that children and grandchildren could see a young man playing instead of an old man in assisted living. This is all invaluable.
And then one day this email comes to Itsartolie from Youtube:
---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: Copyright Notice
Date: 29 Jan 2008 22:42
Subject: Video Removed: Copyright Infringement
To: itsartolie
YouTube | Broadcast Yourself™
Dear Member:
This is to notify you that we have removed or disabled access to the following material as a result of a third-party notification by Chet Baker Foundation claiming that this material is infringing:
Chet Baker 1986 - Shifting Down: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E73tR7ap8Ig
Please Note: Repeat incidents of copyright infringement will result in the deletion of your account and all videos uploaded to that account. In order to prevent this from happening, please delete any videos to which you do not own the rights, and refrain from uploading additional videos that infringe on the copyrights of others. For more information about YouTube's copyright policy, please read the Copyright Tips guide.
If you elect to send us a counter notice, please go to our Help Center to access the instructions.
Please note that under Section 512(f) of the Copyright Act, any person who knowingly materially misrepresents that material or activity was removed or disabled by mistake or misidentification may be subject to liability.
Sincerely,
YouTube, Inc.
Copyright © 2007 YouTube, Inc.
________________________________________
And so his site was shut down. Please note the ‘please note’ paragraph. Anyone who can write a basic sentence in English knows that this paragraph has nothing to do with basic English. And so I asked Itsartolie, whose first language is not English, to translate into English this apparently English sentence. This is how he explained it:
It really means that if access is restricted on my Youtube videos and I am certain that I own this material, I can claim it back. But, caveat emptor, if I bullshit them the offended party (the rightful owner that is) could sue my ass to his heart's content.
Okay, that’s English.
And now we come to the moment of international intrigue. The Chet Baker Foundation in Oklahoma denies it did this. In fact, in my comments section, one of the directors said so much. Well, okay, but this is curious. And there’s another Chet Baker Foundation in Canada (International Intrigue!) that might have done this. So now, using our best retention of Sherlock Holmes methods (you know my methods Watson, use them!), we have many hypotheses. One is that the Oklahoma Chet Baker Foundation is not telling the truth, another is that the board of the Oklahoma Chet Baker Foundation doesn’t know what the day to day administrative Chet Baker Foundation of Oklahoma is doing, another is that the Chet Baker Foundation of Oklahoma is telling the complete truth—which would then point to the Chet Baker Foundation of Canada that is doing the great harm to jazz. And the answer is—I don’t know and I never will. It will only become curiouser and curiouser.
But some Chet Baker Foundation might have the power to restore the site of Itsartolie, and restore and assist in their given mission. I’m not saying that they can—this is Youtube we’re talking about, but they might. And they should try. So I will help them, because they need to know which material is in dispute. Again, let’s find out from the source, Itsartolie:
Love for Sale
My Ideal
Just Friends
Helen David
interview by Elvis Costello
The Very Thought of You (w/ Costello)
If I Should Lose You
You Don't Know What Love Is (w/ Costello)
Shifting Down
It is worth mentioning that on 1/12/08 I got the exact same email for the Chet/Van Morrison performance of Send In The Clowns but this time third party was VAN MORRISON / POLYDOR.
At any rate, all these performances come from a single DVD called CHET BAKER LIVE AT RONNIE SCOTT'S PERFORMING WITH ELVIS COSTELLO AND VAN MORRISON issued by RHINO HOME VIDEO.
Apart from these and the Sinatra issue I had no other infringement trouble, so in essence it was only two instances.”
And there we have it. Who owns the copyrights to these? Is it possible to give written permission for Itsartolie to post them, since his work is most definitely helping the Chets Bakers Foundations. Is it possible after this is figured out, to tell Youtube that we, the Chets involved, withdraw our complaint, please let Itsartolie resume his most important work? Yes.
Is this actually a family squabble that all jazz lovers must now suffer? Could be. And that of course would get back to jazz being jazz’s worst enemy. These are questions that I can’t answer, I can’t write about anymore.
But we will know the truth shortly. If the Chet Baker Foundation in Oklahoma chooses to do nothing about this, then it’s a legitimate question to ask how much they actually care about their mission. If they contact the Canadian side of the coin to find out who has the rights to this material, and a fight ensues, we know that jazz must continue to fight jazz in order for jazz to be preserved. It’s life through the looking glass. And if both Chets get it worked out and Youtube is unresponsive, then I’ll be happy to write a post about Youtube trying to kill jazz while allowing its many virulently racist and anti-Semitic posts to remain.
We will also know the truth if someone from Chets tries to contact Itsartolie. I’ll be happy to help with that.
A friend told me years ago, you vote with your feet. In other words, people can say anything, the truth emerges from their actions. So, let’s hope for a happy ending, but the cynical Benjamin in me will not get my hopes up.
And this is the Carrollian Mode.
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