Things we like: Wadada Leo Smith, Milford Graves, Bill Laswell

In a piece anthologized in Extended Play: Sounding Off from John Cage to Dr. Funkenstein, John Corbett recounts the story of a solo concert by the master drummer Milford Graves that a friend of his witnessed. Corbett's friend recalled that Graves had a volunteer from the audience come onstage and verify his pulse before he stopped it, then somehow managed to create asynchronous pulses in his left and right arms. Corbett goes on to quote saxophonist John Tchicai, who said that when he was playing with Graves in the New York Art Quartet, there was a bassist who was so unnerved by Graves' non-metric drumming that he refused to play with the group. 

After playing with '60s free jazz innovators like Albert Ayler, Giuseppi Logan, Don Pullen (their legendary and elusive duets were reissued last year), and Sonny Sharrock, Graves spent 39 years on the faculty of Bennington College in Vermont. He was the subject of a worthwhile documentary, Milford Graves Full Mantis, released in 2018. It's a sad irony that Graves, who spent decades studying the human heartbeat with an eye toward harnessing the healing potential of music, died on February 21 this year from congestive heart failure brought on by amyloid cardiomyopathy (also known as "stiff heart syndrome"). (As a heart patient myself, I find it of interest that Graves saw similarities between cardiac arrhythmias and Afro-Cuban drum patterns. He possessed the kind of intelligence that makes connections others miss.)

The Finnish TUM Records label recently released Sacred Ceremonies, a three CD set of duets and trios, dedicated to Graves' memory and capturing him in performance with trumpeter Wadada Leo Smith and bassist Bill Laswell. It's a meeting of the minds between veterans of the '60s and '80s New York scenes and Chicago's Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians (AACM) who are each strong creative forces in their own right.

After an early immersion in the blues, and Army service, the Mississippi-born Smith first came to prominence alongside AACM standard bearers Anthony Braxton and Leroy Jenkins. He had his own sojourn in academia -- a decade in Connecticut at the University of New Haven, and two more at California Institute of the Arts, with intervals in upstate New York at the Creative Music Studio and Bard College in between -- during which he continued his creative work, running his own record label, composing, leading his own groups, and performing in a variety of contexts. Smith's composition came to the fore with the 2012 release of Ten Freedom Summers, a multi-ensemble work inspired by the Civil Rights movement and composed over three decades, which was a finalist for a Pulitzer Prize. Since his retirement from academia in 2013, his pace of creative activity has accelerated.

After making his way to New York via Detroit, Laswell played in bands (Material, Massacre, and Last Exit among them) that variously fused rock, electronics, jazz, funk, dub reggae, and "world music," and produced scores of records, including Herbie Hancock's unlikely 1983 hit "Rockit" and Sonny Sharrock's glorious 1991 swan song Ask the Ages. (For years, my preferred way to experience electric Miles Davis was Laswell's 1998 remix album Panthalassa.) Laswell and Graves dueted for TUM on 2014's Space/Time Redemption, which could be seen as a precursor to the 2015-2016 sessions that produced Sacred Ceremonies.

Smith's playing is always full of spontaneous invention that's responsive to his environment, including his partners. His duets with the other musicians have different vibes, based on his collaborators' characteristics. The Laswell duets are more spacious and atmospheric, swimming in Laswell's sea of electronic effects, until the bassist introduces something like funk to the proceedings on "Minnie Riperton - The Chicago Bronzeville Master Blaster," the closing selection on their duo disc. Listening to the trumpeter improvise with Graves, one gets the impression that the drummer's deep sound is directing and channeling the flow of their conversation -- even when the first two pieces they essay are Smith compositions. They strike sparks on the extemporaneous "Celebration Rhythms," and by "Poetic Sonics" are burning with abandon.

The trio disc sees Graves still driving the interaction, with Laswell responding to the drummer's propulsive authority, creating a burbling groove for Smith to invent over. Absent the high-tuned snare and cymbals of a typical trap set player, Graves' presentation has the regal presence of an African drummer -- or a whole village of them. A singular talent with no apparent heirs. Whether playing a muted or open horn, Smith sounds like the end of a line of trumpet explorers that included Miles, Don Cherry, and Lester Bowie -- more concerned with expression than technique (although he gets a beautifully burnished tone from his horn). 

That tone is showcased on Trumpet, three CDs' worth of solo performances Smith recorded over four days in a 550 year old stone church during the summer of 2016 and released by TUM as part of its celebration of the artist's 80th birthday this year. It's his seventh such release (not counting previously unreleased solo material that appeared on Tzadik's Kabell Years 1971-1979 box set). The fourteen pieces here, including four extended compositions, take their inspiration from various influences and associates of Smith's, Kurosawa's film Rashomon, the purifying therapeutic treatment known as sauna, political and cultural figures like Malik al-Shabazz (aka Malcolm X) and James Baldwin, figures from Sufi spirituality, and ultimately, "Family -- A Contemplation of Love." The solitary sounds, created in sacred space, serve as a suitable accompaniment to moments of contemplation and reflection. Smith's use of negative space in his inventions enhances their impact.

The box set format TUM used for these releases -- like the recently reviewed Ches Smith set on Pyroclastic -- is a good way of adding value to CDs. For those of us still enamored of "the romance of the artifact," having quality artwork, photos, and legible liner notes makes the shiny silver discs a more engaging way to experience music than mere downloads.

Ches Smith/We All Break's "Path of Seven Colors"

I first encountered the drummer-composer Ches Smith via a CD he recorded with his band These Arches back in 2010. Since then I've enjoyed his musical intelligence in a variety of contexts, most notably in groups led by guitarist Mary Halvorson (who played on the aforementioned date). Nothing, however, prepared me for this.

The Vodou music of Haiti is arguably closer to the source than any other music in the Afro-Caribbean diaspora, and it retains ritual and ceremonial functions that go beyond mere entertainment. When Smith began studying it 20 years ago, he found many elements in common with modern jazz: "polyrhythm, polytonality, improvisation, extended timbral awareness, (massive) tension and (occasional) release, channeled aggression and power, and most vitally, surprise." When he had the idea of a project that deliberately incorporated Vodou influences into his music, he wanted to do so in a way that was respectful and authentic. To that end, he recruited his mentors, percussionist-singers Daniel Brevil and Markus Schwartz, to join him in playing the traditional, three-drum "Port-au-Prince style," along with pianist Matt Mitchell in a quartet dubbed We All Break (perhaps a reference to the kase or "breaks" that are characteristic of Vodou music). Their 2015 album is included here as a bonus disc.

Besides performing with the group, Smith continued his intensive study of rhythms, songs, and Haitian Creole language -- and began to envision an expanded group, incorporating more elements. Meeting NYC-based Vodou musician and community activist Jean-Guy "Fanfan" Rene made Smith aware of the Afwo-Gwinen (south Haitian) style, centered on the bas -- a four-drum setup where one drum plays melodic ostinatos like a funk bassist, forming the basis of the drum conversation that follows each kase. Although there's no string bass in Haitian music, Smith added the young bassist-composer Nick Dunston to bring a fifth "drum" to the ensemble, as well as performing the bass' traditional harmonic-rhythmic function. For melodic reinforcement, Smith added saxophonist Miguel Zenon and a female voice, supplied by Sirene Dantor Rene, Fanfan's wife and his co-leader of the cultural organization Fanmi Asoto.

The octet sessions that produced Path of Seven Colors took place in February 2020, on the eve of the Covid-19 lockdown. In Mimi Chakarova's documentary film of the sessions, viewable on Smith's website (link above), you can see what looks like a model of the virus in the studio. Because everyone involved is thoughtful and attentive, We All Break's meeting of jazz's invention and Vodou's spirituality feels seamless and organic, not jarring or artificial. Smith composed the instrumental sections, while Brevil supplied the call-and-response vocal material, which he drew from the Vodou tradition or composed himself. (In the documentary, Daniel speaks movingly of the way the music connects him with his father.)

The lilting massed voices contrast agreeably with the piano's occasional dissonance. Zenon's recent output has included tributes to the romance of Cuban bolero and the swinging abstraction of Ornette Coleman. Here, the saxophonist's angular melodies are juxtaposed with the syncopated voices and drums. In the documentary, he speaks of wanting to "understand what was going on, not just playing my thing on top of it." The tonal instruments occasionally take up a repeating part and join the rhythmic exchange. The mutual respect and focus on a common aim between folks from different cultures is a dynamic that resonates beyond the creative sphere.

It didn't surprise me to see David Breskin's name in the credits. The prolific producer has had his hand in dozens of creative music recordings I've loved for four decades -- most recently two of my favorite sides of the last decade, Mary Halvorson's Artlessly Falling and Kris Davis' Diatom Ribbons. No coincidence, then, that Path of Seven Colors was released on the Canadian pianist Davis' label, Pyroclastic Records, which since its inception in 2018 has had an impressive array of releases.

Skuli Sverisson's "Strata"

 

Bill Frisell is the most unassuming of guitar heroes. Having grown up in the rock era, a little after John Abercrombie and a little before Pat Metheny and Nels Cline (to name some kindred spirits), he emerged from Jim Hall's tutelage at Berklee to become a color first in John Zorn's palette, then in Paul Motian's. Since the late '80s, his own records have reflected his liking of folk and country music -- an element that gives some jazz fans pause. As he's matured, his playing has become less ethereal and ever simpler. 

This collaboration with the Icelandic bassist-composer Skuli Sverisson, originally a vinyl-only release back in 2018, now available digitally for the first time, feels of a piece with Frisell's recent work. Sverisson -- who's been Laurie Anderson's musical director, as well as playing with guitarists of the caliber of Ben Monder and Allan Holdsworth -- wrote all ten songs here, but claims Frisell as an overarching influence. 

Sverisson's melodies unfold at a langorous pace, evoking images of late afternoon sun through a window, while Frisell's layered guitars sound ringing chords and chiming harmonics. Since 2008's History, Mystery, at least, Frisell's own compositions have had a cinematic sweep. So do Sverisson's here. It's only fitting that the director Jim Jarmusch, a friend of Frisell's, was present in the studio during the sessions that produced Strata.

Things we like: Miguel Zenon

As the pandemic winds down, I remain leery of crowds. Guys I was jamming with two years ago played down the street from me; I stayed home. It's unseasonably warm and humid here -- to the point where our electrical grid, which failed during a winter storm in February, threatens to go down again, and it's not even summer yet. So I wake early to go run as soon as it's light enough to see, to keep my heart strong. By the time bands are hitting, I'm going to sleep. I'm ambivalent about King Crimson coming to my zip code next month. While it's undoubtedly my last chance to see them, I can't imagine them playing a better show than the one I saw with two dear friends in 2017. And my wife hates them. Plus...crowds.

The pandemic year was the occasion for much small-scale music-making: lots of small groups, solos and duets, mainly acoustic performances, broadcast via the internet from performers' homes or empty venues. One such project is El Arte del Bolero, which teams the Puerto Rico-born, New York-based altoist Miguel Zenon with the Venezuelan expat pianist Luis Perdomo. Horn-and-piano duets have been a jazz staple since Louis Armstrong and Earl Hines. For this one, recorded live at NYC's Jazz Gallery in September of the first pandemic year, the two musicians chose a repertoire of songs from the Cuban bolero era that they absorbed from their environment as children. The tunes' lush romanticism combines with the musicians' audible affection for them as expressive vehicles to create an atmosphere of warmth and familiarity -- the perfect balm to take the edge off the news of the day.

You can hear a different side of Zenon's artistry on Law Years: The Music of Ornette Coleman, recorded during a 2019 residency at a club in Switzerland. (Both albums are available digitally via Zenon's Bandcamp page, as well as all the usual digital outlets.) It documents the first onstage meeting of a quartet of Spanish speakers, three of them based in Europe, playing a selection of tunes by my candidate for the greatest musician of my lifetime. The selections draw from the composer's Atlantic, Blue Note, and Columbia periods, and Zenon and his bandmates -- tenorist Ariel Bringuez, bassist Demian Cabaud, and drummer Jordi Rossy -- display a good grasp of Ornette's freewheeling melodic approach, and the loose-limbed swing of his acoustic groups. Anytime I hear Ornette's compositions played as repertory -- whether by this unit, Tim Berne's Broken Shadows, or closer to home, the tribute bassist Paul Unger helmed at the public library a few years back -- it gladdens my heart to know that the once-controversial music, now familiar as heartbeat, retains its freshness and vitality, and will in the future.