Metheny Mehldau

On paper, the Pat Metheny/Brad Mehldau collaboration ranks as one of the most exciting of the last few years, given that it's not just an album (two actually), but a tour as well. Of course, to paraphrase a terrible sports cliche, they don't make albums on paper. The tour hits Boston this Saturday, at the Opera House, and I can't be there. So, my thoughts on the (apparently amazingly well-selling) album...

I picked up the second of their two records, Quartet, this weekend. (I've had "Metheny/Mehldau", from here referred to as "M/M".) Nate Chinen gushes about it in last Friday's NY Times, and talks to Brad and Pat a little too. Some thoughts on the two albums (I hesitate to say review):

First, full disclosure. While I am an unabashed and somewhat knowledgeable Metheny fan, especially of the non-PMG material, I know Mehldau's music less well, mostly from the radio and one, really unimpressive outdoor live trio gig in Boston. From what I've heard, I like the solo music much more than the trio music. (I'd go as far as to call Brad's trio- at least when Rossi played drums- the most overrated of our time. Not bad at all, but not the brilliant vanguard it's been hyped up to be. To me it sounds like a Keith trio homage with more odd meters.) It hasn't helped that both times I've seen his bassist Larry Grenadier independent of Brad, he's been a huge letdown- once with Josh Redman, and once literally flailing in a trio with Paul Bley and Lee Konitz. So there's my ax to grind.

On both M/M records, but especially the first (I could by release date- Metheny/Meldhau came out first, Quartet second), I had the opposite reaction of most of the critics I read- I like the duos a lot, the quartet stuff not so much. I think guitar/piano duos are very, very hard to pull off- Chinen covers this well in his piece. I've always thought that despite my unfailing love of the artists involved, the guitar/piano duo records I know well- the Jim Hall/Bill Evans Undercurrent album and more recently the Frisell/Fred Hersch Songs We Know effort- are spectacularly unsuccessful. There are just too many awkward moments, especially when the pianist is soloing and the guitarist comps in a way that just clutters things up.

Not so here. There seems to be a concerted effort, rather than working from a solo/comping paradigm, to create a tapestry of sound during the improvised sections of tunes. (And all of the music on both records are clearly tunes, head/solo/head kind of efforts.) The intensity and sympathy of the listening and interaction between the two is truly impressive. Listen to the solo section of the first tune on M/M, "Unrequited" for an easy example- through the whole solo section of the tune both and neither are the soloist, they effortlessly skip over and around each other.

While the duo efforts are almost univerally ballads or mid-tempo numbers, I don't find myself bored listening at all. I've heard this complaint before about Wayne and Herbie's "1+1" and the Metheny/Haden duo album. I think it's a misplaced criticism in all three cases. There is an intimacy on all these albums, an intense listening, that I think rewards the listener when s/he sits back and absorbs it, rather than waiting to be wowwed. "Find Me in Your Dreams", the warmest ballad on the "M/M" album, plays this way for me- patient, careful, and haunting if you let it haunt you.

As you can see, I've had the opposite reaction to many of the reviews I read- I like the duo stuff much better than the quartet. The quartet material, especially on M/M seems rather formulaic by comparison. "Ring of Life" is a Metheny post-boppy anthem propelled by a sort-of breakbeat groove from drummer Jeff Ballard. Rather than lift the track up, I feel like the rhythm section feels like a treadmill that Pat and Brad run lines on top of, and excercise instead of a romp. Much of the interaction that crackles through the duo stuff is notably absent here. "Say the Brother's Name", another bright, perky straight-eighth number, fares some better, propelled especially by an exceptional Mehldau piano solo. But behind the Metheny solo, the rhythm section, especailly Ballard, takes less chances, and the excitement dims. (Steve Greenlee in the Boston Globe recently said about "Quartet" that he thought that Ballard (ds) and Grenedier (bs) don't know what to do, a sentiment I share.)

One aside- I leave these albums truly blown away by Brad's playing. The way he shapes lines and accompanies himself is remarkable, and intensely individual. It's the first time after hearing him I walked away saying "he's the real thing". He does owe a TON to his teacher Fred Hersch, whose playing I still prefer for its rawer emotional quality. But I wish I could do on a regular basis half of what Brad is pulling off.

The better news is that I have very high hopes for the live music, and wish very much that I could see it myself. (Chinen hints at a live disc, which would be great) I have a distinct feeling that the comfort that comes with playing this material every night, and the excitement of an enthusiastic audience, will take this music to a far better place than the studio material did.

better human than dead

(via Mwanji) A transcript of Ornette's Grammy acceptance speech from earlier this month. Much too much to even attempt to comment on...

(The folks in the image on the site, in case you weren't sure, are Judi Silvano, Joe Lovano, Charlie Haden, Ornette, Ruth Haden, and I'm not sure who- help please)

one more thin gypsy theif

This weekend found me writing Christmas cards, and trying to be cheerful about it. (If you didn't get one, I'm not done yet. If you still don't get one, don't worry I love you anyway) I mitigated the inevitable drudgery by catching up on some concert movies. (The Patriots winning big helped too.) The two on the hit parade so far were Leonard Cohen: I'm Your Man and a Masada concert film from 1999. The fact that all this music has a very Jewish bent, and I'm a formerly good Catholic boy writing Christmas cards is not lost on me, but I don't know what it means.

More on Masada in a later post, but I highly recommend the Cohen video. Cohen himself only sings one song, "Tower of Song" backed by U2 of all people. Most of the music comes from a tribute concert featuring Martha and Rufus Wainwright, Nick Cave and several others. Of note to jazz fans, Hal Wilner produced the concert, 3/4 of Sex Mob anchor the house band, and Kenny Wolleson is great.

I was introduced to Cohen by one of my favorite jazz pianists, a Cohen nut, and am a fan but not a very knowledgeable one. The music is for the most part quite good, and really lets his lyrics, the most remarkable part of his writing, shine. The best part of the video, however, is doubtless the interviews with Cohen himself. He is a warm, thoughtful man, and I feel like his ruminations on the creative process is must material for just about any artist. And his speaking voice is pretty killin' to boot.

gettin' chippie

As previously mentioned, Mwanji recently posted a thoughtful response to this essay by Darius Brubeck (Dave's son) about which opened the floodgates. I think the conversation is more interesting, and more informative than the essay itself, which while claiming to look at Ornette impartially, basically just tries to damn him with faint praise.

Update: This post, by Ethan Iverson of the Bad Plus, is probably the best analysis of and Ornette I've ever seen. Highly (and belatedly) recommended. And, as usual, Ethan's a helluva a lot more polite that I'd be...

Goooooooal

A couple of random notes to start the week:

World Cup fever has taken over the better part of Cruise Ship X. (And unlike last time, you don't have to stay up until 4am to watch them) And I admit to being sucked in a bit- I'm in an office pool and everything. I'm clueless as to just about anything- I think Brazil is going to win because, well, everyone seems to think Brazil is going to win.

Happening alongside it stateside is, of course the NBA Finals. Wouldn't it be something if the best player in the NBA finals in the US is a German (Nowitzki, doing his best Larry Bird impression lately), while in Germany the US advances past the Germans in the World Cup. It's a very real possibility.

I have now topped 100 "friends" on MySpace. Thank you for your support; I don't quite know how to feel about it. That saud, new (or previously unheard, at least) music soon, I promise.

Yesterday I was listening to Wayne Shorter's most recent "Beyond the Sound Barrier" for the first time in a while. It's a mind-blowing record, even on the twentieth listen. It made me think, what exactly makes a song (or "song form) a song. For instance, "Joy Ryder" is stretched so far from the original recording twenty-some years ago as to be a different piece alltogether. I remember an interview with Miles in the '80s where he talked about a set list as a menu, a suggested starting place that you shouldn't take too literally. I never completely bought it with that Miles band, because so much was so preset (it seems more true in the second great quintet), but Wayne's band, and also bandmate Danielo Perez's current trio, seem to be taking that idea to it's further points.

Steve Lacy

Today marks the second anniversary of the death of Steve Lacy, pioneer of the soprano saxophone, composer and teacher. As time passes, days like this become less overtly significant, but for me no more pleasant. Since his death Steve's music certainly continues- I've been to half a dozen gigs in the past year where Steve's music was featured without making a big deal of it, notably by Jeremy Udden and Monikah (for my money the best interpreter of Steve's songs who wasn't married to him). Dave Douglas likewise has incorporated some of Steve's work into his bands' book, and his "Blues for Lacy" on the new Meaning and Mystery is the best tune on the record. Hopefully, Steve's music one day will occupy a similar place in the "canon" (uggh, that word) that Monk's does.

One of the main attractions of attending New England Conservatory (well, one that wasn't named Brookmeyer) was the chance to study with Steve. I was not exactly a huge fan, but I knew that when it came to the soprano, he was THE guy. (From no less than Wayne Shorter- "Anyone who plays soprano orientates himself on Steve Lacy".) Ditto for the art of solo saxophone playing, along perhaps with Braxton and Evan Parker. The difference with Steve's solo playing was, Steve never abandoned song form, making records of solo performance of Monk or his own music rather than of improvisations.

Steve was a very particular guy. He did things a certain way, played a certain way, and wanted music the way he wanted it. Unlike a lot of particular people, however, he wasn't the least bit imposing or egotistical about it. If he didn't like something, he'd just shake his head and say "no, man, that part just isn't it! Doesn't go where it needs to go." (I remember his specifically saying that about the bridge to "The Nearness of You." Like the tune, just not the bridge) And that by itself was enough to make you want to fix it. In talking with Ryshpan, he said something similar. He was watching Steve rehearse a student group paying free improvised music. Every time Steve played, the music was very focused. When he stopped, it fell into chaos. Steve didn't have a center of musical gravity, he WAS the center of gravity.

Studying with Steve was a great joy, though it wasn't exactly studying in the traditional sense. After the first lesson, where he went over some very simple ways he "tamed" the soprano (which, coincidentally, still form the first chunk of any practice session for me), he said, "well, what do you want to do?" And that's how every lesson went. It wasn't that Steve was shy or selfish, he wanted you to fish out of him what you needed. So, I learned to come with a laundry list of questions, or tunes, and we'd go from there. Vivid memories- he said Monk had taken off the top of his piano, and put mirrors on the ceiling of his practice space, so he could look up and see what was happening as he played. He talked about playing a gig with Roscoe Mitchell where they played while walking around some kind of maze, doing certain things at certain locations. I still have tapes of some of the lessons, and I have to go back through them.

Steve died well before it was time. When I worked with him he was very active and only becoming more so, using NEC as a springboard for a lot of new work, and overdue recognition of some of his old work. His diagnosis of cancer the summer after I studied with him was a shock to everyone, and in the months before his death he'd seemed to have made a remarkable recovery, and was playing and writing as much and as strong as ever, which made his rapid decline and death that much more painful. Irene Aebi, his wife (and THE interpreter of his songs) says that he's still here, his music is still vital and his spirit is still strong. And I know what she means. But I for one, wish he were here, and miss him, especially today. There's so much more to say, but for now, onward, Steve.