Thursday, July 9, 2009

Anthony Braxton - Quartet (Coventry) 1985 (Leo, 1993)



This is a double-CD set documenting the last show of Braxton's quartet's tour of England back in 1985, which was later released in 1993. Each CD has an extensive interview following the respective sets, which are both fantastic. Indeed, I consider this to be some of Braxton's best work for a few reasons. There is the outstanding lineup: Marilyn Crispell on piano, Mark Dresser on bass, and Gerry Hemingway on drums. If you've seen my jazz list, you'll notice that I have a Crispell/Hemingway duo album on there, so you can imagine my excitement when I realized they were paired with Braxton during a creative high point for Anthony. Then there is the music: not only does this live up to those expectations, it surpasses them. Predating much of my favorite late-'90s "downtown scene" records by a decade, this album is rivaled by maybe only 'The Peach Orchard' in terms of its ability to maintain momentum, rather than indulging in the sputtering rhythms (stop-start-stop) and easy avantgarde gestures. Each solo is so full of ideas, and there is a more traditional sense of interplay between the intruments, even if this is certainly towards the free end of the spectrum.

On top of music, the set features some of the most enlightening insights I've heard about this brand of jazz. As opposed to some things I've heard, either from Leo Smith, or even Susie Ibarra, where there is a level of disconnect from this music from the jazz lineage, as if it somehow ceased to be jazz at some point, Braxton, while acknowledging it is new and difficult to classify, is surprisingly reverent towards jazz masters, most importantly John Coltrane. Also, he sees his music not as a departure from jazz as a reaction to it, a supplement, etc. I think this is a much less pretentious appraisal, and I think it is only fair to grant these musicians the "new" aspect as long as they acknowledge their place in the continuum. I'm adamant about this often because jazz, more than almost any music, regardless of what variant of jazz we're talking about, is about the act of listening - if your music is based in large part on listening to one another, and it involves some of the traditional jazz instruments, I don't understand the aversion.

Either way, this great record is one of the best in the genre, period.

Buy. (Leo Records)

Posted by Dark Magus at 6:46 PM
Tags: , ,

6 comments:

Brakhage,  July 9, 2009 7:11 PM  

Thanks! Been wanting a copy of this for a long time ...

pabanks,  July 9, 2009 7:26 PM  

No prob. It is awesome... ENJOY!

BTW, I am going to get the blog links back up. Sorry dudes, not trying to be selfish, I just deleted the old template messing around and haven't fixed it. I probably will just copy Danny's since most of those people are my people to some extent. ha

Anonymous,  July 10, 2009 3:31 AM  

v nice

slovenlyeric,  July 10, 2009 9:14 AM  

Thank you for posting this. From what I can remember this series of Braxton Discs was considered a high point in his career at the time of release. I think this may be under-rated now only because of the incredible wealth of material we have since then.

il angelo,  July 11, 2009 6:29 AM  

slovenlyeric is right. this breathes as very little in his recent output does. a high point. thanks

Ochyming,  July 15, 2009 4:24 PM  

I prefer his ensemble/orchestra music.
I avoid his "quartet music", but … maybe its my prejudice talking loud.

I think his composition NO. 174 is a work of Marvel.

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MILES DAVIS


By 1973, Miles had gone crazy. I often ask myself, in reference to an athlete lost to excess, or an artist that has burned too brightly, does the caring person in me have the ability to bring myself, should I somehow be granted such powers, to erase great works of art by curing the illness that brought them to be? Here, the case is simple: would I be humane enough to let Miles free of his demons, knowing that doing so would erase all the art he made in the midst of his madness?

If I were alive and asked this in 1975, I would certainly say yes. The music in question was largely, perhaps near-unanimously, reviled by critics. Miles, his health shattered, had just retired for what was to be five years. Dave Liebman was solid, but was also one of very few longstanding sax players to pair with Miles without subsequently gaining worldwide fame (I'm still waiting on a Gary Bartz revival - I'll lead the way). Miles had unleashed masterpieces like On the Corner, Get Up With It, and garnered neither the younger black audience he wanted, nor the sales of his prior albums (namely, Bitches Brew).

However, time has a way of changing things. Miles' work from this period has seen a decade-long critical resuscitation, the dry clicks and repetition of On the Corner a false ancestor of dubstep, the pulsing ambiance of "He Loved Him Madly" was ahead of Eno, ahead of dark jazz, and ahead of about ten other genres. Miles was more mournful in his playing, the searcher was more lost than ever, and his body matched his tone: brittle, thin, static then frenetic (could be the coke there). Given all this, I don't know if I could let Miles go if that meant this art would go away. Whatever was chasing miles over a quarter-century ago, it lead him into areas so far ahead of his time, it is staggering.

EXCEPTIONAL NEW RELEASE

Photobucket
Your Snakelilke King, by the duo of Dylan Nyoukis and Karen Constance under the name Blood Stereo, was a steady climber throughout the year for me. The first thing that caught me, as is often the case, is the stunning cover art, which, luckily for them and for me, came to my attention when I was deeply into dance a while earlier in the year. I also had wanted to check something out by Dylan Nyoukis, as I'd heard his name bandied about by some other writers that I trust, but was kind of put off by the album with the cover of him naked.

Enter Your Snakelilke King. The second track, "The Taking of the Tonic," is what originally caught my ear, as it started off with the sort of high pitched, spare vocal spikes that would be common on a Keiji Haino record. After that portion, there are layered vocals, scratching textures, and a sort of propelled development through the rest of the track that simultaneously has a circular motion to it, a sort of swirling vortex in the speaker array. In a way, the vocals mimic something from Burning Star Core's more saliva-based excursions, which is a good thing.

After I was thoroughly taken by the second track, I gave the opener, "The Giving of the Grape," a more attentive listen. The track starts very similar to Tony Conrads Joan of Arc, so much so that at first I wondered if the track was realized by recording the pedals and keys of an instrument. This descends into the chaos of the remainder of the track, replete with violin scratches, frenzies and abutted by synthetic tones, closely recorded bubbling and crackling. The 20-minute journey can't be summed up completely here, but the message I hope you get is that this record is effective in track development, all the while being texturally complex and dynamic. In short, Your Snakelilke King, sold out in the 330 copy vinyl edition, but still available in other formats on Pan, serves as a perfect entry point to Nyoukis and Constance, and is a fantastic "noise" record, period.

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