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John Hebert
John Hebert is the answer to the sad trivia question, Who is the last bassist to play with pianist Andrew Hill? That final performance came on Mar. 29th, 2007 at Trinity Church in downtown Manhattan in a trio with drummer Eric McPherson; Hill would die just over three weeks later. For the New Orleans-born Hebert, being part of the bass lineage of Hill, a pantheon that has included Richard Davis, Ron Carter, Reggie Workman and even Hebert’s teacher from William Paterson University, Rufus Reid, was “a life-altering thing. I didn’t want to play any other music but that because it totally built my confidence and made me stronger as a musician. Because he never said, ‘Do this, you need to play like this.’ It seemed that whatever I was doing was cool and it felt right.” Hebert admits to not being totally immersed in Hill’s music before the first call for a gig at the 2001 JazzBaltica Festival. But right away, Hebert describes the experience in lofty terms: “It was liberating to play and being validated in a sense of how I was approaching music or how I was hearing music, hearing the bass and my way of thinking of how it should be played. …And then more gigs came and he just kept calling and I was like, ‘hell yeah, let me do these gigs.’” From 2003 until his death, Hebert was Hill’s regular sideman, a description that belies the equal partnership that Hill demanded from his musicians, and recorded on the pianist’s critically-acclaimed second return to the Blue Note label, Time Lines (with McPherson, reedplayer Greg Tardy and trumpeter Charles Tolliver). Though Hebert has been ubiquitous in New York in a number of ensembles since the turn of the century, his time with Hill was instructive in a way musicians can’t get from playing solely with their peers. “It was a great sort of school for me to go to,” Hebert says. “Having that mentorship, if you want to call it that, doesn’t exist as much to me anymore, someone from the generation that can bring you into their language, their world and you sort of grow and develop with them and they sort of help you along in that way.” And since that experience, Hebert feels that his performing opportunities are a direct result of people wanting his particular approach to the instrument. Speaking of those that employ him, Hebert says, “I’m hoping they know what I’m going to do. I don’t really curb what I’m doing for a particular gig. I’m always trying to be myself and play the way I play, to a certain extent. I still want to make everyone else sound good but I try not to compromise musicianship for that.” Hebert also credits Hill for another important point in his development, the assurance to become a leader. Just released, and being celebrated this month, is the bassist’s debut album Byzantine Monkey (Firehouse 12). It features his compositions as played by a group of empathetic musicians of long standing: saxists Michae Attias and Tony Malaby with Adam Kolker on flute and bass clarinet for four of ten tunes, and a pair of drummers, Nasheet Waits and Satoshi Takeishi, who plays percussion on the date. When asked if he would have done a record before his time with Hill, Hebert responds frankly: “I would have been too scared though I was making records as a sideman back then. It felt right. I had been writing music, I had done a few gigs on my own in town… It maybe came out with [Hebert's wife] Lo Jen saying, ‘why can’t you do your own gigs?’ or maybe even Andrew said it, ‘You should be leading your own band.’ …Talk about no fear; no one can say shit to you when it’s your band. …It’s your music, you know how it’s supposed to go.” Hebert, despite his burgeoning pedigree, is still developing himself as a musician. He observes: “I’m always trying to listen back and think what am I doing or how can I change that and try different things out. So that’s always a struggle. But I think anyone finding their voice comes from playing, just experience. …So it’s a matter of hooking up the right situation and being with people that you vibrate with and that’s going to bring out what you do naturally.”
For Hebert, the group on Byzantine Monkey is a perfect example of the above dynamic. All the players come from what Hebert describes as “a very large ensemble that breaks off into factions and you fit yourself in somehow.” He first met Waits on that initial Andrew Hill gig. Attias and Takeishi are the remaining two-thirds of Renku. Hebert has played on Kolker’s last two albums. Hebert and Malaby are in Attias’ group Twines of Colesion. Remarkably, considering the full schedules of all involved, booking the studio time was nailed on the first attempt: “It all just fell into place. I booked two days in the studio and everyone was in town. I mean for these cats that are on the record, to get everyone in the same place at the same time was an act of god.” And to this already secure environment, Hebert added the lessons he learned from Hill. “I’m pretty loose when it comes to playing my music. Just count it off and see what happens. …I trust that the cats in the band will interpret it in the way that would be musical.”
Hebert has another recording to be released in February, a trio with pianist Benoit Delbecq and drummer Gerald Cleaver. But the bassist is not making a transition into full-time leadership, knowing full well that few performers can survive today’s market under those circumstances. But he is very encouraged by his first foray. “You see that as possible. You get that first thing out of the way, okay now I see that it is possible to do and it can be rewarding, emotionally or whatever, so think about doing more things. …It gives you something to shoot for within your own musical spectrum. So you have something to write for. That really is very important, writing your own music and getting your voice across and being heard.”
http://www.allaboutjazz.com/php/article.php?id=33969
Alipio C Neto
O início dos anos 1960 representou, para o jazz, rupturas. As (antes) inovadoras formas do bebop com suas pesadas progressões harmônicas, seus fraseados velozes e seu compasso quaternário passaram a ser vistos como antiquados. Musicalmente, o motivo para tanto foi apenas um: a difusão da atonalidade. Com isso, jazzístas como John Coltrane, Archie Shepp, Cecil Taylor, em busca da plena libertação dos clichês e convenções estabelecidos pelo tonalismo, romperam com os pontos de apoio auditivos (centros tonais), diluíram o beat criando um ritmo irregular, incorporaram elementos musicais das mais variadas culturas (principalmente as orientais) e integraram às composições algo até então não presente no vocabulário musical: o ruído.
Os críticos ficaram estarrecidos. Na tentativa de achar algum vestígio de solo firme para caminhar por essa forma de expressão musical, batizaram o movimento de The New Thing – algo como “A Nova Coisa” – acusando os músicos de fazerem anti-música. Já o público, que não era dos maiores haja vista a debandada maciça dos jovens para o universo do rock, ficou ainda mais diminuto. Resultado: nos Estados Unidos, o free ficou reduzido a poucos espaços com pouca platéia. O irônico é que o movimento revolucionário foi encontrar fora de seu local de origem amplo espaço para difusão.
Por conta da familiarização dos instrumentistas e do público com o atonalismo devido às experimentações da música erudita, o free jazz encontrou amplo espaço para se desenvolver na Europa. A constante passagem dos jazzístas mais importantes do free no velho continente deixou marcas profundas nos instrumentistas locais. Entusiasmados pelas novas perspectivas improvisativas, músicos como Peter Brötzmann, Evan Parker, Alexander von Schlippenbach, dentre outros, iniciaram a consolidação de um núcleo de livre composição e improvisação na Europa, chegando inclusive a promover avanços significativos nessa linguagem. Como o público acompanhava de perto essas exitosas experimentações, os músicos tinham sempre a quem mostrar suas composições. Dessa forma, nichos eram criados e a música livre se firmava. O resultado desse processo hoje é uma cena free madura, criativa e atuante que tem conexões com a vanguarda do jazz mundo afora.
Inserido na atual cena avant-garde da Europa, está o saxofonista brasileiro Alípio Carvalho Neto. Nascido em Floresta, município do Sertão pernambucano, Neto se mudou para Portugal para conclusão de seu doutorado na Universidade de Évora sobre as relações entre a poética literária e a música. Seu interesse pelo universo sonoro começou em casa com o incentivo do pai, o que posteriormente o levou a ingressar na Escola de Música de Brasília. Estudou, no Brasil, com grandes nomes como Hermeto Pascoal, Roberto Sión, Carlos Eduardo Pimentel, Dilson Florêncio, dentre outros. Já gravou e tocou com inúmeros compositores, grupos e orquestras de música brasileira e jazz, a saber: Armando Lobo, Brasília Popular Orquestra, Gregg Moore, Trio Fulutchi, etc…
Nos últimos anos de trabalho em terras portuguesas, o saxofonista se consolidou como uma das mais importantes forças do free jazz atual. Logo assinou com a gravadora lusa Cleen Feed Records que visa registrar os projetos contemporâneos inovadores do jazz livres das convenções da grande indústria cultural, gravando importantes discos com os diferentes projetos que lidera. Em 2006 lançou o excelente Sung as a Gun com seu quinteto franco-luso-belga-brasileiro IMI Kollektief. Já em 2007, foi a vez de Wishful Thinking com outro quinteto plurinacional que retrata musicalmente a dicotomia humana entre racional e instintivo. Mas foi com The Perfume Comes Before the Flower, lançado também em 2007, que Alípio teve seu merecido reconhecimento internacional, recebendo críticas positivas de Richard Cook e Brain Morton na nona edição do “Penguin Guide to Jazz Recordings”, o que o coloca junto com Naná Vasconcelos como os únicos pernambucanos a ter seus trabalhos comentados em tal publicação.
Na sua contínua procura por mostrar a música como uma poética dinâmica do artifício humano, além do cerebral e transcendental, C. Neto é intenso. Seu tom vigoroso ao saxofone evidencia um integração surpreendente com o instrumento, tornando possível qualquer forma de expressão que desejar. Os experimentos polifônicos presentes em suas composições levam a música do mais firme solo harmônico ao mais etéreo ruído com uma naturalidade espantosa. Em sua música, o abstrato parece tomar forma. Soa e ressoa palpável.
Em sua recente passagem por Recife, Alípio reuniu músicos locais para se aventurarem em suas novas composições baseadas na polifonia do “Cantu a Terone” da Sardenha, no “Cante” alentejano e na tradição musical do Sertão pernambucano. A Alípio C Neto Brasilian Ensemble composta por C. Neto, Ivan do Espírito Santo (sax barítono), Thelmo Cristovam (sax “C” melody), Osman Júnior (baixo) e Márcio Silva (bateria) fez uma bela apresentação. Forte talvez seja o adjetivo mais apropriado, porque liberdade para vôo pressupõe saber voar, caso contrário vira queda livre.
Por essa razão, foi interessante presenciar músicos costumeiramente imersos nas convenções do tonal mergulhando na plena liberdade harmônica, rítmica e melódica do free jazz. Saltando sem para-quedas no intuito de planar ao invés de cair, os instrumentistas (à exceção de Cristovam) foram se familiarizando com a linguagem e encontrando seus espaços ao longo do concerto. O resultado foi sublime.
Nos tempos atuais onde muito se produz a todo instante e em todos os lugares, torna-se difícil encontrar os trabalhos mais relevantes que merecem um olhar mais aproximado. Pérolas podem passar despercebidas quando circundadas por grãos de areia. Outras preciosidades, no entanto, revelam um brilho tão estonteante que é impossível ficar indiferente. Assim é a música de Alípio C. Neto. Suavidade que ofusca, repouso que tensiona, assimetria que delimita, razão que emociona, palpável que abstrai. Uma junção de complexidades que irradia o humano.
http://www.clubedejazz.com.br/noticias/noticia.php?noticia_id=807
Mark O’Leary interviewed by Eyal Hareuveni talks about his musical vision, records and projects including some notes on “On The Shore” (CF 091).
Very interesting, check out at http://www.allaboutjazz.com/php/article.php?id=32585
A whole lotta Haaker Flaten going on
Powerful Norwegian bassist Ingebrigt Haaker Flaten spent a little more than two years living in Chicago, from January 2006 to spring 2008, and when he wasn’t on the road–which was most of the time–he fit in well. That is, he played steadily in all kinds of groups, some of them working bands and others one-off ad hoc lineups. Haaker Flaten went back to Oslo after the romantic relationship that brought him to town ended, but his musical relationship with Chicago had started long before he moved here and continues to this day. Tomorrow he returns for the first of a slew of gigs that run through Sunday.
Since his departure Haaker Flaten has released music pretty steadily, beginning with The Year of the Boar (Jazzland), from the quintet he formed with Chicagoans Jeff Parker, Frank Rosaly, and Dave Rempis–the fifth member, violinist Ola Kvernberg, was a holdover from the Oslo version of the group. Cut live during a European tour in 2007, it makes clear that Haaker Flaten shares a key quality with his Chicago counterparts–driving, insatiable energy. His compositions are typically packed with two or three discrete episodes, and most of the time he opts for muscular passages that stomp rather than swing–though his occasional explorations of space and calm, like a bit in “90/94″ where Parker toys with texture and color, are satisfying too.
On Play Complete Communion (Bolage) Haaker Flaten joins saxophonist Atle Nymo and drummer Håkon Mjåset Johansen (both of whom are members of the excellent quintet Motif) to perform the two suites that make up the classic Don Cherry album (you guessed it) Complete Communion. Nymo does a fine job tracing the trumpeter’s indelible themes, which are meticulously crafted vehicles for improvisation. The trio don’t veer too far from the originals–you can hear their reverence for the material–but it still makes for an enjoyable listen.
Trinity is, oddly enough, a quartet with Haaker Flaten on bass, but this band traverses much different territory. Breaking the Mold (Clean Feed), recorded live at the Molde Jazz Festival in 2006, is an all-improvised set that mixes spacey contemplation with emotionally charged outbursts. Saxophonist Kjetil Møster (the Core) can blow free with the best of them, but he exercises a lot of restraint here, creating ambience at least as often as he knocks down walls. Drummer Thomas Strønen (Humcrush) has great timing, but he’s generally more interested in color, and he frequently turns to hydroplaning cymbal bowing or gentle pattering instead of steady timekeeping. Keyboardist Morten Qvenild (In the Country) might be the driving force by default–it’s his electronic keyboard that tends to determine whether the music switches into celestial mode or stays rooted in hard-charging fusion.
Finally, Haaker Flaten has released a couple of fine duo recordings. The Brewery Tap (Smalltown Superjazz) pairs him with legendary free-jazz saxophonist Evan Parker, who plays tenor for the session; though there are highly charged, frenetic passages, with the reedist blowing choked, gnarled lines and the bassist uncorking tightly bunched pointillistic patterns, the duo frequently engage in more spacious, temperate exchanges. It’s always hard to resist Parker’s trademark circular-breathing displays, but it’s really nice to hear him shape his probing lines in a more gentle, patient fashion.
The Haaker Flaten recording I’ve enjoyed the most over the past year–discounting the latest set from the quintet Atomic–is Elise (Hemlandssånger Compunctio), a duo recording with saxophonist Håkon Kornstad. The Elise of the title was the bassist’s grandmother, whose interpretations of folk hymns from the early-19th-century Haugian Revival were recorded by Norwegian National Radio in the 70s. The lyrics came from church hymnals as well books like Vægteren, a volume published in Minneapolis by a Norwegian Haugian community, but the melodies are rooted from oral folk traditions. The album opens with a brief a cappella recording by Elise Haaker, the only song with any vocals at all; six of the eight remaining tracks are instrumental adaptations of these hymns, in which the duo tease out the gorgeous melodies and reshape them gently to fit jazz language. There’s also one free improvisation and a lovely reading of Keith Jarrett’s “Death and the Flower.” The depth of feeling and degree of sensitivity here reminds me of Ornette Coleman’s beautiful duo recordings with bassist Charlie Haden, even though the music sounds totally different.
http://blogs.chicagoreader.com/post-no-bills/2009/03/31/whole-lotta-haaker-flaten-going/
Herb Robertson: Abandon in the Moment
Amid a whorl of scraped cello, tenor sax squawks, and bass clarinet blats, trumpeter Herb Robertson paused, his eyes closed in concentration. With NSA-like hearing ability, he pierced the action with a bracing note that crystallized the unfurling improvisation. The intent listening and bold responses displayed during saxophonist Lotte Anker’s January show at The Stone typify Robertson’s commitment to playing in the moment.
“Once I start improvising I just can’t think about other things,” Robertson says. “Improvisation, to me, that’s what exists: when I’m improvising, it’s music.” Forging a distinct sound, he combines the chops and projection of a big band lead trumpet with the imagination and fearlessness of an improviser, extending his textural range with ambitious use of multiple mutes, vocalizations, megaphones, and whistles.
Since the early ’80s, he’s been a fixture of the Downtown scene as a sideman to saxophonist Tim Berne and bassist Mark Helias and as a leader. Internationally, he’s held tenures in bassist Barry Guy’s New Orchestra, pianist Satoko Fujii’s Orchestra West, and guitarist Pierre Dorge’s New Jungle Orchestra and maintains associations with saxophonists Evan Parker and Frank Gratkowski.
“I don’t like to repeat myself, ever,” Robertson says. “I always try to come up with something new.” In March, 2009 he showcased his range in Gerry Hemingway’s Quartet, the Fonda-Stevens Group, and a rare duo with longtime collaborator Berne. Later this year he’ll appear at the Copenhagen Jazz Festival.
Raised in New Jersey, Robertson began playing in the fifth grade and was about 16 when he decided to pursue jazz, “the ultimate expression of trumpet.”
Particularly attracted to Freddie Hubbard’s sound, Robertson spent hours absorbing and playing music, often bringing dinner to the practice room. “It was like one of my favorite things of the day, was to practice the trumpet,” he recalls. He still keeps a disciplined daily practice schedule to maintain his dexterity, range, and stamina and to work on chromatic and intervallic exercises.
Robertson attended Boston’s Berklee College of Music as a performance major, and played up to 30 hours a week in small combos and big bands, with visions of being lead trumpet in Buddy Rich’s band. But he soon realized the regimentation of big bands was not for him. After graduating in ‘73, he went on the road with an amplified Canadian jazz-rock band. Not exactly a shrinking violet, Robertson struggled to hear himself in the group and strained to get louder. The months of exertion took a toll and he completely blew out his chops.
Unsure whether he’d play trumpet again, Robertson was frustrated and spent roughly three years rebuilding. During this time he discovered modern classical and electronic music, feeling a connection to its atonality. This led toward freer music and exploring ways to cloak the trumpet’s sound. Experimenting with warbling mutes and whispered and shouted vocalizations, he tried to blend in with groups instead of blaring above. In New York near the end of the ’70s, he met like-minded musicians searching for new sounds and strategies to improvise.
“What attracted me to the music was the selflessness about it and the idea that it’s a democratic process where everybody is equal in participation,” he says. “I think that was the main change of the music in the early ’80s: it wasn’t the individual, it was more of the collective that really evolved.”
Throughout the ’80s, he garnered a reputation as an adventurous, uncompromising improviser sparring in Berne’s groups, leading his own, and playing with a slew of others. With a string of recordings for JMT, including X-Cerpts (Live at Willisau) (1987) and Shades of Bud (1988), his brass and drums tribute to pianist Bud Powell, Robertson exhibited a breadth of stylistic influences and, like his cohorts, sought to blur the line between composition and improvisation.
“When you hit the high moments it’s the real thing and you’re really surprised by it, and that’s what makes it interesting,” Berne says. “And Herb just epitomizes that as far as I’m concerned.” Though they don’t play together as often anymore, the two converge every few years to reestablish their rapport and advance the music by incorporating new influences and experiences.
Throughout the ’90s, Robertson performed on a series of recordings for the Cadence and CIMP labels, including co-led groups with drummer Phil Haynes, sessions with Lou Grassi’s Po’Band, and various meetings with bassist Dominic Duval. “There’s a purity to Herb and his approach to music that’s hard to describe, but you know it when you play with him,” says drummer Jay Rosen, who played in Robertson’s trio with Duval and matched him with trumpeter Paul Smoker for his own Drums ‘n Bugles (CIMP, 2001).
Robertson frequently works in Europe with European musicians, and even moved to Berlin for about three years to close the millennium. Playing with and learning the sounds of different musicians pushed Robertson’s composing and performing in a free direction. “Now I’m more into the horn and I’m not writing as much: it’s not written composition, it’s more playing composition,” he says.
Robertson’s “Sick(s) Fragments” is six short sketches written to provoke the improvisation of his NY Downtown Allstars on Real Aberration (Clean Feed, 2007). On “Parallelisms” (Rubyflower, 2007), he termed the pieces “realizations,” again using brief outlines to guide his partners—Evan Parker and pianist Agusti Fernandez—who had all worked together in Guy’s orchestra.
The CD was the fourth release on Rubyflower, a label that Robertson co-founded with creative music impresario Dr. Ana Isabel Ordonez to document his music. Its mission has expanded to include other creative musicians, and six CDs have been released to date. The most recent, Each Part A Whole (2008), documents a fully improvised show at The Stone by his MacroQuarktet with trumpeter Dave Ballou, drummer Tom Rainey, and bassist Drew Gress. The pieces decisively unfold through dynamic peaks and subdued ebbs, imparting structure and momentum without excess. The two trumpeters met in Fujii’s band—their styles are different but complementary, and each prods the improv in new directions. Nearing 60 years old, Robertson is meeting younger trumpeters that he’s influenced, like Ballou and Jean-Luc Cappozzo, with whom he recorded the duet CD Passing the Torch (Rubyflower, 2008).
“It’s good to know that it’s part of a legacy now…it’s developed and it’s continuing, it’s evolving,” Robertson reflects. “It’s a survivor’s music; it keeps going because people keep playing it.”
Selected Discography
The Macro Quarktet, Each Part of a Whole: Live at The Stone NYC (Rubyflower, 2007)
Herb Robertson NY Downtown Allstars, Elaboration (Clean Feed, 2004)
Herb Robertson, The Legend of the Missing Link (Splasc(h), 2001)
Herb Robertson/Dominic Duval/Jay Rosen, Falling in Flat Space (Cadence Jazz, 1996)
Herb Robertson Brass Ensemble, Shades of Bud Powell (JMT-Winter & Winter, 1988)
Tim Berne, Mutant Variations (Soul Note, 1983)
http://www.allaboutjazz.com/php/article.php?id=32006
Photo by Hernani Faustino
Please check Rudresh Mahanthappa, Mark Dresser and Gerry Hemingway in a place nearby and listen to the great Mauger music (Clean Feed 114, 2008).
March 18-29
Mauger (Trio w/Mark Dresser and Gerry Hemingway)
European Tour
March 18 – deSingel
Antwerp, Belgium
March 19 – Stadtgarten
Köln, Germany
March 20 – Paradox
Tilburg, The Netherlands
March 21 – Musik-Kultur St. Johann in Tirol
St. Johann, Austria
March 23 – TBA
Venice, Italy
March 24 – Cankarjev dom
Ljubljana, Slovenia
March 28 – Jazzclub Neue Tonne
Dresden, Germany
March 29 – Bimhuis
Amsterdam, The Netherlands
Title: Sound traveler
A drummer, percussionist and arranger, Satoshi Takeishi is one of those artists whose musical expansion is only comparable to the geographic one. In this interview, he speaks about the track he took from Mito, Japan, to New York, USA, where he lives since 1991, moving between jazz, Latin music and the sound sculptures of the Vortex project, where he and his wife Shoko Nagai explore free improvisation and real-time audio processing. Proto-memories of a sound traveler.
Before the past, the present. In what have you been working at?
I am currently working with a great Tunisian Oud player and singer, Dhafer Youssef. And also with Michael Attias’s projects, Renku and Twines of Colesion. I am constantly working with my wife, Shoko Nagai, on our electro-acoustic project Vortex.
Let’s go back in time, then. When did you started to get interested in percussions and, more concretely, in drums?
Actually, I started with a drum set and then gradually picked up percussion instruments. When I was in Berklee, a Brazilian drummer showed me how to play Samba with a stick and a hand on a single tom. That showed me how a single drum can express as much or even more of what a whole drum set can do. I am always interested in how to widen the scope of a simple element, whether it is a percussion instrument, a part of a drum set or a musical idea.
An interesting part of your musical formation was the four years you lived in Colombia. What was the importance of that experience, and in which way did it influenced your future work?
I can safely say that the time I spent in Colombia is the single most important event of my life, both musically and emotionally. Myth, wonder, magic, mountains and rivers, dusty village street, humbleness and innocence, drama and comedy, humanity and tragedy and all colors and smells from flowers to food to people. These are the core of my sound. And all these things stays with me and they keep me alive in their myth.
Who were the most significant figures to you, from the learning point of view?
I never really had an idol figure. I am always and forever grateful to my teacher, Jimmy Southerland (who is no longer with us), who told me to play drums “with my ass screwed to a drum stool”. Hope you are proud of me, Jimmy…
After that, was the fact of studying and performing with Joe Zeytoonian the opening of a new conceptual “window”?
Yes, it was. And I have to give you a little background to the story. This was in Miami in the late 1980s. If you can imagine how frustrated I was, trying to explore more experimental side of music. Joe was the only person I could share this idea. The idea of playing music in an unconventional way. He is a master of Arabic, Turkish and Armenian music, and a great improviser. So we just did a lot of duo or trio, playing with his partner Miriam, who is also a great percussionist and a dancer.
At which point did your musical track led to jazz?
Pop, rock, funk, fusion, Brazilian, Afro-Cuban, jazz, free improv, Colombian, Arabic, Turkish, African, Eastern European, electronics, etc… That is more or less the order I came to learn different styles of music. Jazz is only one part of my learning process.
Was the fact of you living in the USA meaningful, at that level?
Big time. Especially in New York, where every type of great talent gathers. And this makes it easy to experiment with all types of art forms. Of course, it is sometimes hard not to get lost, but as long as you know what you want, you’ll find it. I do a lot of projects which will be impossible to do in other places.
Being in America, was it easy to maintain the connection with the world of Latin music?
Miami is a city with a huge Latin community, so as New York City. You can work only with Latin music if you like.
On the other hand, and taking in account the multicultural perspective of your work, do you still close to your Japanese roots?
I would say that my Japanese roots/influence is in my sound, whether I like it or not. What’s interesting about this is that I have about five years of experience playing music in Japan and about 25 years abroad. Yet, I still carry certain feeling about Japanese roots within me.
Throughout the years, you’ve collaborated with several and varied names of the jazz scene (Ray Barretto, Anthony Braxton, Erik Friedlander and Michael Attias are only four names in a vast list). Is it possible for you to name the most important or meaningful experiences you had, regarding personal enrichment and musical evolution?
In my case, all those moments of “musical enlightenment” happened in a very casual moment. Like in a brass band practice room in my junior high school or a small bar in Bogota, or a club in Miami, etc… I was playing in all those moment and then, all of a sudden, “music really made sense”. Having said that, I know that every musician I have played with blessed me with “meaningful experiences”.
Another aspect of your work is improvisation. Is it a consequence of your personal approach to music, or just a will to experiment?
To me, improvisation is a test of strength. Performing without premeditation can reveal a lot of inner self sometimes, and it could be disappointing. But it will give me strength to deal with music in any situation.
How do you apply that concept to jazz playing?
It helps me to be free inside a structured form.
The subject of improvisation leads us to Vortex, where you explore audio processing through computerized systems. When have you first started using electronics?
About seven years ago.
Do you find any relation between its use and the perspective of have on percussions?
Both (electronics and percussion) are tools to make music for me. My approach is the same, whether it is electronics or percussion or a drum set.
What kind of balance have you acquired, meanwhile, between the acoustic and electronic dimensions, in terms of sound and composition?
I like electronics to be the extension of acoustic sound. That is why I usually don’t use any sound material other than what’s on a stage, when I am performing. Live sampling, then processing. I still have a lot of things to work it out, but I see a great possibility in trying to combine improvisation, electronics and acoustic elements.
New York blues
He’s one of those who have been symbols of the avant-garde in New York, but his relation with that city has changed, because – he says – «it’s not the same». The multifaceted sound artist Elliott Sharp talks to GPInformation on this subject, as well as on his work and its origins and identity.Let’s start by the present. What are your current projects? In what are you working these days?
I’m in the middle of composing a 45-minute piece, “Polymerae”, for Frankfurt’s Ensemble Modern, that will premiere in April with the dance company of Jacopo Godoni, and I’ve just completed a piece titled “Sidebands”, dedicated to Karlheinz Stockhausen for the Fylkingen Festival in Stockholm in February. I’ve also just finished recording a set of my recent string quartets with the Sirius Quartet. There are also recently recorded improvised duos with Frances-Marie Uitti, Josef von Wissem, Scott Fields, and Saadet Turkoz.Throughout your career, you have been developing a close relation between “conventional” instrumentation and electronics. However, in the “Sharp? Monk? Sharp! Monk!” project your option was to play only with a guitar. Was that a conceptual option, or did you just felt that it just was the best way for interpreting Thelonious Monk?
I often play acoustic guitar at home and Monk’s music is something I enjoy playing. It seemed natural to record it that way. I’ve done a number of fully acoustic recordings in recent years and I like the sound very much.After the more “classical” sound of previous projects, “Hums 2 Terre” brought you back to more experimental territories. Was that intentional on any way, or was it only a part of a natural process?
I don’t believe I’ve ever left any of my operating zones – through-composed orchestra pieces, “experimental” work, improvisations, blues, film scores, electronic and computer music. They’re all parallel threads.You have studied a wide range of academic disciplines, like for instance, ethnomusicology. What’s the importance of that scientific background on your musical production? And, in the same line of thought, how does physics reflects on your work?
Everything I read or study ends up being part of the process! I do like the way mathematicians and physicists map reality to abstraction. It’s very resonant with the way I compose and I like to imagine my musical processes as operating in a similar way.
Probably this is a limitative question, but – and in spite of your other influences – would you consider blues and jazz to be a kind of a “skeleton” of your musical work?
I don’t know if I would put it that way. I grew up listening to and playing blues and jazz – they’re as much a part of my daily life as speaking English or drinking coffee.
Who were your favourite musicians, back then?
The first jazz record that I really “heard” was John Coltrane’s “Live at The Village Vanguard” – I listened to it because of his published obituary in the “NY Times” the day of his death. It whetted my curiosity and a friend’s father had the record which we put on – I was blown away by it! Next for me was the Mingus record “Oh Yeah” on Atlantic – absolutely killing.
I became very excited by jazz and tried to listen to everything I could get my hands on, searching record store bargain piles (because I had no money!) and in libraries. When I became a radio DJ at Carnegie-Mellon University’s WRCT during a summer session there, as a “junior scientist”, when I was still in high school in 1968, I dug into the ESP records as well as lots of Ornette, Ayler, Cecil Taylor, Pharoah Sanders, Sun Ra.
My exposure to blues started with The Yardbirds and The Stones and I soon was listening mostly to Howlin’ Wolf with Hubert Sumlin, Muddy Waters, Lightnin’ Hopkins, Skip James, Robert Johnson, Sonny Boy Williamson, Big Joe Williams, Blind Willie Johnson, Otis Rush, Albert Collins, B.B. King, Albert King, Freddie King.
When was the moment in which you started to get into more experimental sounds?
As soon as I began to explore music, I was into the outer limits. I was a science fiction fan growing up and I loved the soundtracks to sci-fi films (and still love), Bernard Herrman’s score to “The Day The Earth Stood Still” and “Mysterious Island”, as well as the wonderful electronic soundtrack to “Forbidden Planet” by Bebe and Louis Barron, which I first heard around 1963.
My access to the music library at WRCT allowed me to dig in deep to various composers such as Cage, Stockhausen, Xenakis, Partch, Ligeti (saw “2001:A Space Odyssey” that Summer as well with Ligeti’s incredible music) and more.
Although being a multi-instrumentist, is there a special instrument for you, in terms of use and sound?
I’m most comfortable with guitars but when I have the time to keep in practice I truly love playing saxophone and clarinets.
While performing live, do you prefer to perform “prepared” works, or just improvise, taking yourself by the moment?
I like them all – it’s only dependent on the desired situation.
I can’t help having in mind your contribution for the “Alphabet City” album (released on the Sub Rosa United Series). In which way are you inspired by cities, in general, and New York, in particular?
New York was (and I’m using the past tense purposefully) a very inspiring place for creative work. I still love living here but it’s not the same – it’s about marketing and consumption, not about living out a creative fantasy and manifesting it in art.
In your online tour diary, you mentioned the fact having played in Portugal only a few weeks after 9/11. Were you in New York that day? Which are your mains memories of it?
I arrived back from Warsaw the day before. My main thoughts were anger at the people who perpetrated this horror – NOT the ones who piloted the planes but the government of George Bush and his cohorts in the corporate oligarchy. If not actually ordering the attack, their policies created the conditions. There’s too much to go into here!
After these years, what’s your vision on what was changed in the city, both from the social and artistic points of view?
This city is controlled by real estate forces. Its character has changed and there’s not much we can do about it in terms of keeping it vital as a creative place – cities change and the creative force moves to other locales.
Talking of New York, do you feel close to the Radical Jewish Culture, promoted by John Zorn?
Not at all. “Jewish culture” had almost always been radical, but this particular movement is very Zionistic and reactionary. I presented my piece “Intifada” at the first Radical Jewish Culture festival in NYC, at the Knitting Factory, and I was booed and shouted down when I gave a preamble to the concert saying that Judaism, whether cultural or religious, is not necessarily the same as Zionism and that as the son of a Holocaust survivor, I find the Israeli oppression of the rightful and long-time inhabitants of the area known as Palestine to be shameful and abhorrent. I greatly dislike religion and nationalism – the source of much human suffering!
Artists like Zorn himself or Z’ev have inspired some of their works on the jewish heritage. Did you ever have a similar approach?
Just as all of my work is informed by my interest in the sciences and acoustics, all of my work is informed by my Jewish heritage. I just don’t wear it on my sleeve!
http://gpinformation.blogspot.com/2008/01/interview-elliott-sharp.html
