Nem um dia

I’ve found this little CD store in Miami, underneath Marshall’s. On first glance it’s rather unimpressive – Marvin Gaye is filed into their jazz section, for instance, and their hip-hop section has precious little Blackalicious, The Roots, or anything other than the modern radio-ready pap. Venture into their Latin section, though (categorized by style and/or location) and many gems turn up. So far I have purchased Bebo Valdes’ Bebo de Cuba, his two-disc “masterwork” (a full big band suite and a three-horn & rhythm blowing session); Jorge Ben Jor’s MTV Acoustica DVD; and Djavan Ao Vivo on DVD as well. The Valdes disc is in heavy rotation now, and the Ben Jor DVD is fantastic, but I was most impressed by the Djavan DVD.

Kerry Politzer recommended Djavan to me when we were both at Banff last summer. When I got back to Montreal, I went on a search that led me to his first two records, Djavan and Alumbramento. (The general consensus on his music is that those two records are his apotheosis, and it’s all downhill from there.) The DVD focuses on his more recent work, though there are songs from that period as well. While I wouldn’t necessarily say Djavan’s music has gone on a downwards trajectory, the music has become simpler as he’s aged, and as one critic said, has fused Brazilian music with pop and hip-hop more than his earlier records which reflected the jazz and funk influence. One could draw a parallel with Sting’s development (compare Dream of the Blue Turtles with Sacred Love). The DVD was filmed in 2002 in a sold out stadium in Rio, and the audience is singing along with his melodies, which are catchy but not necessarily simple or repetitive. His forms are often unconventional by American pop standards, but the audience knows them like the back of their hands. Djavan lets the band stretch out, much like the space Sting gives to Branford Marsalis or Chris Botti, and they are warmly received. This further strengthens my intrigue into the Latin/Brazilian attitude and response towards music, especially as compared to the North American relationships with the art.

Water water everywhere

Unlike Pat, I haven’t found it easy to blog from the ship. Oddly enough, I’m on his original Cruise Ship X, with some of the same band members. It is indeed a small musical community. I’ve been on the ship for nearly a month, the time frame after which I’ve been told one can begin to form opinions on the cruise ship experience.

My first cruise was filled with orientation and training – not anything musical, mind you, but more of the environmental/safety sort. It’s important information, to be sure – essential for one’s survival aboard the vessel – but the way it is carried out is often redundant. Often, neither the trainers nor many of the students speak English as a first language, so there is the element of repetition to make sure things are clear, as well as the attempt to decipher various different accents and capabilities in the English language. This is the reason training sessions are scheduled for, and always take, three to four hours.

I lost track of time quite quickly, as I was warned. I now tell days by which port we’re in, not by dates. I did remember Mother’s Day.

I have been fortunate enough to visit each port at least once, and I am slowly forming a tan (and not through crustacean-esque burns as some of my Canadian colleagues are acquiring). Grand Cayman is quite quaint, though it loses its appeal quickly, especially if I’m not in a beach mood. I’m not a snorkel enthusiast or even a strong swimmer, so those attractions are not quite up my alley. Key West is similar in a much more American or Canadian way. It reminded me of the Unionville Village north of Toronto. I was introduced to a used bookstore in Key West, and on our next stop there I plan on returning. Among other finds, I finally located some Hunter S. Thompson (Hey Rube, a compendium of his columns for ESPN.com and probably most notable for the fact that it contains his ruminations on September 11). I’ve only been to Jamaica once, and on my future visits I’d like to avoid the tourist traps, but have so far failed – Margaritaville and the ReggaeXplosion hall of fame. Next time in Jamaica I’m definitely finding a way to either do the Bob Marley bus tour, or just split a cab to his house (now converted into a Rastafarian church). The tour is alluring in many ways – not just for the music and the history but to actually get out of the city and into the hills of Kingston. Another item on my Jamaican to-do list is to find some out of the way record stores and see what gems I can find. Blue Mountain coffee is a must, as well.

When we hit Calica last time, a few of us went out to the Mayan ruins of Tulum. We didn’t do a tour, we just walked around admiring the view and the iguanas that seamlessly blended into the stone towers surrounding us. There is a natural beach below the ruins, which we spent most of our time on. A tour guide came by and yelled out that the ruins closed in 15 minutes. We didn’t see everything, but most of it. We also stumbled across a little roadside restaurant at happy hour – 2 for 1 Cuba Libres, and a large plate of fajitas for 40-odd pesos.

I am enjoying the fresh air and being on the water. Luckily we haven’t hit seriously rough seas yet, though a couple of days ago the boat was rocking hard enough for cancellation of shows to be a possibility. The weather centres are predicting hurricane season to start early this year (June 1^st at the absolute latest) so the adventure and intrigue may increase in short order.

Musically, I’m rather ambivalent about the cruise ship experience. On the one hand, playing every night is quite beneficial and is an opportunity rarely found on land. Also, the production shows we’re doing revolve mostly around musical theatre or 1950s and ‘60s rock – music I grew up on but haven’t had a chance to play since high school. On the other hand, I’m feeling a little bit straitjacketed for multiple reasons: I don’t have the multitude of ensemble opportunities I had back at McGill (both for writing and playing), and the band’s fallen into the rut of playing the same charts cruise in and cruise out because of inefficient rehearsals. I also haven’t been able to practice – there’s a multitude of pianos around the ship, but even when we’re in port and the passengers are out, the radios are left on. In other words, I’m trying to practice Beethoven and Monk with Alicia Keys above my head. It doesn’t work. That said, one of my other acquisitions from the bookstore in Key West was Piano Pieces by Russell Sherman. It’s a rather whimsically metaphorical, yet in-depth, treatment of piano technique. I gather he’s on faculty at NEC. I’m reading it in lieu of a real practice regimen. He parades his vocabulary around a little too much for my liking, in addition to trotting out various allusions to mythology, the Bible and sports, but it is a very interesting perspective on the instrument and music in general.

That said, the MD and I work quite well together and most of the band is really quite solid. There are some notable exceptions, and to that end all I will say is that I will never again take for granted that other musicians will have similar frames of reference to mine. I’m trying to stay positive in the light of some of these more disheartening musical events, though it is draining. I suppose it would be more taxing to get caught in the negativity. I’ve also got pretty much carte blanche to arrange whatever tunes I want for the band, and the dancers, techs and band alike are pumped for the fact that this ship has a full eight-piece band for the first time in about a year (if not more). They were a quintet before I signed on, and within two cruises after my joining we were complete.

I’m trying to be diligent about composition, and I do have the goal of writing a chamber piece for some sort of double reed orchestration (most likely oboe, bassoon and piano), as well as setting groundwork for more big band music, but it’s been slow going. I have a couple of melodic fragments that might have potential. I just need to get down to business. My roommate is the DJ at the disco, a vocalist and former music industry insider from Chicago who came up in the 50s and 60s, and worked with some big soul stars in the 1980s. He’s got a lot of stories and has been really inspiring, working away on GarageBand in his free time. I’ve been swapping music with both him and my bandmates, and it’s been quite the blast.

Forthcoming inspirations

To commence my packing for the cruise ship, I tackled the most arduous part of it: the media I'll be sequestered with for nearly three months. During my undergrad I grew out of the habit of pleasure reading, which I hope to rectify on board.

Tom Wolfe - Bonfire of the Vanities (currently being read); Fyodor Dostoevsky - The Idiot; Notes From the Underground & The Double; George Orwell - 1984 (no, I haven't read this yet, I know, shame on me); Rainer Maria Rilke - Letters To A Young Poet; Jack Kerouac - The Dharma Bums.

I won't bore you with the full list of CDs I'm taking, but a quick summary include my "desert island" standbys of Herbie Hancock - Speak Like A Child and Thrust, Chick Corea's Now He Sings Now He Sobs, and Jaco's self-titled debut, as well as the requisite dose of Billy Joel, Keith Jarrett, Bruce Hornsby, and hip-hop (K-os' Joyful Rebellion). I'm also taking some CDs I have recently acquired and need to immerse myself in (John Hollenbeck's A Blessing, Bob Brookmeyer's Waltzing With Zoe, a disc of Ligeti chamber music), and discs I've neglected for far too long (A Love Supreme, Mingus Ah Um, Oliver Nelson's Blues and the Abstract Truth, Beethoven's "Eroica" as conducted by Bernstein, and Shostakovich's Piano Concerti #1 and #2).

And in case there are readers unfamiliar with Darcy James Argue, check out his latest set from the Bowery Poetry Club. Fantastic.

Music and language (part 2)

My first post on the connectons between music and language was more metaphorical and abstract in nature, treating genres or styles as languages or dialects. Fittingly enough, I'm listening to BBC3's web archive of Dave Douglas' Blue Latitudes (and Douglas' own musings on musical collisions were one of the catalysts for the first post), and I think he successfully relates the domains of "classical" and "jazz" or "composed/notated" and "improvised" - either by linking and bridging or full-on collision.

This post is more concrete and literal, on a subject that's raised its head on occasion during my time in Montreal. It was brought into relief by this entry by Québécoise percussionists/vocalists DobaCaracol, chronicling their experience at Canadian Music Week (CMW). For those who don't speak French, the quick translation/redux is that there's a segregation between the francophone and anglophone music scenes in Canada. While Doba have not faced such ill acceptance in other anglophone countries (they've apparently got quite the tour of Australia lined up), their appearances in Ontario, Greater Toronto Area specifically, have received a lukewarm welcome, to be kind. Their performance at Live 8 in Barrie, Ontario, was greeted by a bunch of blank stares.

Doba characterises this division as being between Quebec and Canada, which I don't abide by for a few reasons. Aside from the fact that Québécois despise Céline and Bryan Adams in equal proportion to the rest of Canada (if not with more vehemence), the distinction isn't drawn by location - it seems to be drawn by language. Chanteuses like Ariane Moffatt get quite the turnout from Franco-Ontarians (and, I would presume, Acadians); and even in Montreal there's a stark delineation between the anglo and francophone pop scenes. If I don't diligently read the French entertainment weeklies, I'll miss out on knowing about francophone shows. While Voir will write about anglophone and/or international bands, Hour and Mirror rarely write about anything French unless it's the Francofolies. In fact, Hour's interview with Plaster was admittedly the first time English press had contacted them. Plaster is an instrumental band, whose members happen to be francophone. It even extends to venues - places like Le Va-et-Vient and Cabaret La Tulipe are generally regarded as francophone venues. For a while, Café L'Utopik and Divan Orange were thus categorized as well, though McGillians have started to infiltrate both of them.

This segregation seems to exist more in the pop world, and less so in the jazz/improvised (musique actuelle)/classical communities here. The OSM has both francophone and anglophone members; not quite sure about the Orchestre Métropolitaine. There's an increasing rate of collaboration between French and English jazz musicians, though I'm told that around 15 years ago they were pretty separate as well. As an anglophone that does attempt to follow the francophone scene, I can attest to the multitude of music that anglos are missing out on. Okay, so no one's missing anything by not watching Star Académie, but it's really a shame that they're unfamiliar on Doba, Ariane, Karkwa, and many other talented local musicians that have nothing to do with Arcade Fire. Moondata's LABProjects pride themselves on joining both languages and multiple genres in their improvised monthly mashups, and they garner a fairly linguistically split audience. EDIT: props to Moondata for doing a Moondata vs. Plaster mashup! This needs to happen more often!

And honestly, it seems like quite a one-sided thing. I had no trouble finding francophones at a K-os concert, but I might have been the only anglophone who caught Séba & Ghislain Poirier at Francofolies the other year. Why should we be content with our linguistic lot?

Question to fellow bi- or multi-lingual music lovers (e.g., paging Mwanji): does this happen elsewhere?

Progress report

I have finished class time as an undergrad. All that remains is my final performance exam on April 19. Then I'm off on a cruise ship until mid-July. I hope to use the spare ship time (which is abundant, I'm told) for composing. It'll be an exercise to improve my discipline and self-motivation, which will be handy for my out-of-school life. I'm rather looking forward

My colleagues in the Giusto Brass Quintet asked me to arrange some material for them, and they're taking my arrangement of "Paranoid Android" on their Ontario tour. I wish them the best, and hopefully our artistic relationship will continue into the future. I'm increasingly interested in the instrumental possibilities of chamber music that complement the potential of more jazz-based ensembles.

A couple of weeks ago I participated in a "Manhattan on the Rideau" master class at the National Arts Centre in Ottawa. It was one of these teleconference things set up between the NAC and the Manhattan School of Music - the McGill Jazz Orchestra was playing student compositions/arrangements while composer/arranger Michael Abene critiqued them from an MSM classroom. He had interesting things to say: some remarks were rather obvious, and others were pretty subjective and could be taken with a grain of salt. It was a fresh, welcome perspective on the craft though, and he seemed like someone I could work well with, if the opportunity should arise.

Recent inspirations:
Guillermo Klein y los Guachos - Live in Barcelona
Gyorgy Ligeti - Trio for Horn, Violin & Piano; Ten Pieces for Wind Quintet; Six Bagatelles for Wind Quintet; Sonata for Solo Viola (Sony Classical)
The collected poems of Kenneth Rexroth
Michael Herring's Vertigo featuring David Binney - Coniferous Revenge

Unfortunate losses

Via DJA: Jackie McLean and Don Alias both passed away this week.

I'm not nearly as familiar with Jackie's music as I should be, which I'm rather ashamed to admit. It's really a pity that I'll be checking his work out under these sort of circumstances. I've heard nothing but good things in regards to his involvement with education at the Hartt School.

I'm no expert on Don Alias' work either, but I remember the first time I heard Jaco's opening salvo of "Donna Lee" on the self-titled record. While Jaco's bass playing is quite incredible, the simpatico he had with Don, and Don's responsiveness, was really quite impressive. His multifaceted expertise on both kit and percussion graced many records, and was always tasteful. The first record I heard him on, if memory serves me correctly, was Herbie Hancock's The New Standard. He never got in Jack DeJohnette's way.

The one thing that strikes me at the news of any musician's death is how cultural history seems to fade away, and that I'm saddened by the possibility of youth growing up in a world devoid of such work. Will kids born today know what McLean, Alias, Steve Lacy, Derek Bailey or Elvin Jones did? Will they know about Ray Charles or Johnny Cash past what was portrayed in the movies?

The false dichotomy of protection

Via aurgasm.us: South by Southwest attendees and panelists give middlemen the middle digit.

There are these industries of middlemen - RIAA, MPAA - that claim to "protect artists" but what they're really protecting is themselves. Artists (and I include myself in that word) need to rise up and tell these people to go get stuffed. We can decide when a mashup is perfectly fine with us. We can decide to embrace file traders to build awareness of our work. We don't need you anymore. You're just holding us back.

After all, when we allow these industry groups to frame the debate about the internet and file trading as artists versus pirates, it's a false dichotomy. No one in that angry audience in Austin wants to dupe a movie to sell it on the street. That's piracy. We just want to put movies on our hard drives and iPods, share our mix CDs with each other (just like we used to do with tapes), and mash that funny video with that cool song to produce something new, something we'll give away for free.

The whole popularity of the MySpace/CDBaby market structure, as well as music recommendation/streaming radio services such as Last.fm, Pandora or Yahoo!Launch Music, is testimony to the divergence from the model the RIAA is so desperately trying to protect. And as labels merge and catalogue gets pulled, artists and listeners are forced to utilize alternative means to locate the music they want.

Goulasch!

Last night, I attended cellist Matt Haimovitz's first concert in a series of three, entitled Goulasch! The series' overarching theme is the exploration in various forms of the music of (and related to, in differing ways) Béla Bartók. Last night, Bartók was manifest as composer (the Romanian Dances and Rhapsodie No. 1, both arranged for four cellos - Haimovitz and three of his students, aka Uccello - by Luna Pearl Woolf), aspiring folklorist/ethnomusicologist (the improvisations and songs of Turkish folk Ensemble Constantinople), and guiding figure for Ligeti (Sonata for Solo Cello). Also performed were Tod Machover's Dadaji in Paradise, and Led Zeppelin's Kashmir. The performance was one continuous set, bridged by the soundscapes of DJ Olive.

It was an impressive effort. Haimovitz is a true virtuoso - he has terrific command of the instrument, fantastic intonation, control of extended technique, and most importantly, phenomenal musicianship. He was obviously engaged in his playing, head bobbing, hair flying, egging on Olive and his students. He is a surprisingly strong improviser, as evidenced by the opening variations on the Turkish folksongs Bartók recorded. Interacting with both Olive and Constantinople, Haimovitz demonstrated his capacity for matching and/or complementing sounds on a whim. I was reminded of violinist Mark Feldman - although Feldman has substantially more background and experience in improvising (especially that of jazz improvising). I wished to hear more interaction between Olive and the rest of the musicians - his soundscapes were magnificently "illbient," and his samples well-chosen, but I know his improvising work with Billy Martin and Dave Douglas and wanted to hear him contribute a little bit more. As well, I know that at least one of Haimovitz's students in Uccello, Judith Manger, is a solid improviser in her own right and it would have been intriguing if Haimovitz had gotten his students involved in that aspect of the concert as well. The coda of "Kashmir" had this air of collective fun, with cellos being slapped percussively and DJ Olive even scratching vinyl laughter towards the end.

There seems to be a new wave of young McGill professors (Haimovitz, Shawn Mativetsky) injecting a dose of open-mindedness, inventiveness, and engagement into the conservatory proceedings. Too often in music schools, concerts get bogged down in their own artistic pretensions and somewhat repetitive or predictable programming. The audience, too, needs to be thrown a few curveballs. The concert was held on the unfinished seventh floor of the new music building (quite possibly the only concert that will ever be held there, as it's slated to house offices when McGill finds the money for completion), and while waiting in line for the elevator I heard the requisite bad jokes about "Hey, we must be going to a rave; there's a DJ!" The producer from CBC noted that this might be the first time a turntablist has been involved in one of these concerts. So much the better. I'm graduating this year, so I won't get to experience much of the future progress, but I do know that the performance department is finally starting to give improvisation its due credit (promoting the Contemporary Improvisation Ensemble, supporting improvising master classes). I hope that in the near future they will embrace the new aesthetics of chamber music and bring up Alarm Will Sound or Vijay Iyer's collaborations with Mike Ladd.

You would rather have a Lexus or justice?

Last weekend, I went to see Dave Chappelle's Block Party. I'm not a hip-hop aficionado, but I'm a fan of the Roots (who serve as the house band for the majority of the concert), Mos Def, Common, and Jill Scott (who's a fantastic singer, and a phenomenal presence live). Erykah Badu and Talib Kweli are not among my favourites, but I like them. The only group I didn't know on the roster was Dead Prez, and I have to say the only Kanye West I know is "Gold Digger." Add in a Fugees reunion and Michel Gondry (Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind) directing, and it's a very promising film.

Gondry doesn't approach the Block Party like a hip-hop The Last Waltz; he constructs a story out of the preparations leading up to the concert, interspersed with the relevant parts of the concert. The performers become the protagonists of a story about community. The casualty of this structure are complete performances - if memory serves the only unfaded, complete performance is Dead Prez's "It's Bigger Than Hip-Hop." However, this interview with Gondry reveals that much of the 8-hour concert is to be included in the DVD. I hope the record companies can get their act together and clear the Fugees' participation (due to licensing red tape, they're not on the soundtrack).

Also, my jazzhead side was proud of the scene where Chappelle rambles through "Round Midnight" on a Salvation Army Rhodes, and encourages all up-and-coming comics and musicians to study to the work of Thelonious Monk. "Off time, and perfectly on time."

Strings program and post-mortem

The Indigone Trio + Strings recital was a resounding success. Thanks to Irwin Block for promoting the show in the Gazette (we were a Best Bet of the week, along with Eddie Palmieri and Chet Doxas). Of the three recitals I've done during my time at McGill, I think this one was the best, and not necessarily just in terms of execution, but in channeling and focussing the talents of the core trio (myself, Alex and Liam) into a bigger project. What follows is the program that was handed out at the recital, for those who couldn't be there. Andrew Mullin bravely recorded the recital - I should have a mix back shortly, and the highlights will go up on MySpace.

We endeavor to play music without fear - energetic, inventive, alive and awake. Beautiful and crazy. – Geoffrey Keezer

Side A

Visions (Stevie Wonder, arr. Ryshpan) – An underrated song with a sentiment that rings far too true, thirty-odd years after Stevie penned it. May we be fortunate enough to realize such a vision in our own lifetimes? It’s looking like we’ll still have to grab our wings and fly away. DRR

Erghen Diado (Petar Lyondev, arr. Ryshpan) – All instrumentalists attempt to recreate the power and immediacy of the human voice. Transcribed from the first volume of Le mystere des voix bulgares (a Bulgarian women’s radio choir), this piece’s beauty lies in its deceptive simplicity. It sounds far more intricate than it actually is. DRR

Love Is the Reason (Alex Mallett) – For Lina. AM

Smacked (David Ryshpan) – The only complete original piece of music I wrote out at Banff in the summer of 2005. Whether the catalyst for creativity was Dave Douglas’ sage advice or avian interference (or a combination of the two), we’ll never know. Credit is due to bassist/composer Michael Bates, who came up with integral arrangement ideas, as well as jokes at my expense. DRR

Side B
Piece for Open Strings (Alex Mallett) – I wrote this as an exploration of the natural beauty of stringed instruments. I was interested in what could be created with the instruments’ barest potential. AM

Agua (Djavan, arr. Ryshpan) – Another Banff colleague, pianist/composer Kerry Politzer, turned me onto this Brazilian singer-songwriter. When I first heard this song, I couldn’t get it out of my head. I’m also a firm believer in the superstition of water guiding your entire life, should you be born in rain. That is to say, most major events in my life have been marked by precipitation in some way. It hasn’t failed me yet. DRR

Shahgely (trad. Egyptian, arr. Ryshpan) – A truly multicultural experience; an Egyptian melody learned in the Rocky Mountains from a Torontonian ex-pat living in Copenhagen. This melody is always a blast to play, and the arrangement is an extension of what developed rather organically at Banff. It’s a souvenir of the door of musical perception that swung wide open. Thanks to Graig Earle and Dylan van der Schyff. DRR

Throughout (Bill Frisell, arr. Ryshpan) – In tribute to a fallen comrade. This piece has had a recurring presence over the past year, and represents the cycles of life and of acceptance. In French, undergraduate and graduate studies are referred to as cycles; and as one cycle ends, another one commences. I can’t think of a more fitting conclusion to the concert. I dedicate this specifically to Chris Driscoll, but additionally to all those who, in their absence, continue to influence and inspire us. DRR

This will be our reply to violence: to make music more intensely, more beautifully, more devotedly than ever before. – Leonard Bernstein

PSA

The hour is soon approaching...

Indigone Trio + Strings
David Ryshpan - piano
Alex Mallett - bass
Liam O'Neill - drums
Jeffrey Dyrda - violin
Neda Yamach - violin
Valentina Shohdy - viola
Natasha White - cello

Thursday, March 2, 2006
Clara Lichtenstein Recital Hall (555 Sherbrooke W., Room C-209)
8 pm
Free

The program includes original compositions by Alex and myself, as well as some fairly varied "cover" repertoire. It's my final recital as an undergrad (though not a graded final recital as is the norm in many programs), and it's bound to be a special event.

Progress update

So many things on the go right now.

I just spent most of this week - which has ostensibly been my "break" - playing on McGill jazz auditions. I've done it every year (with, perhaps, the exception of my freshman year), and while it's a blast to hear the new blood, it makes for very long days. By the end of it, I generally never want to hear "Body and Soul" ever again. The free refreshments in the welcome centre make up for it.

I'm infatuated with the idea of attempting an application for the BMI Jazz Composers Workshop. I'm still not definitively sure on how large ensemble writing or New York City fit into the rest of my life, but it seems like as good of a test balloon as any. So now, that entails rounding up a big band to record the demo disc, and finishing new big band works. Luckily the assignment for Advanced Arranging right now is a big band chart, and I have a sketch for another piece which seems to lend itself to a larger ensemble of some form or other. And it turns out that the grant application deadline is - as is always the case - far too close for comfort.

Next Thursday, March 2, is Indigone Trio + Strings in Clara Hall at McGill. I am very, very psyched for this. I remember Chris Smith telling us in Basic Arranging about the profundity of hearing strings play your music for the first time. The whole recital was borne out of indecisiveness and general half-baked, hare-brainedness (I suppose any musical decision worth making is a product of absurdity in some way), but I'm lucky to have found kindred spirits who are willing to go down this path with me.

March 3, Kweku & The Movement hit at Café Campus. We're on a bill with The Dust Jackets and God Made Me Funky. Not sure of the band order, but it promises to be quite the show.

March 11, I'm playing in a free improv master class run by violinist Malcolm Goldstein. I'll be playing with trumpeter Gordon Allen, trombonist Paul Tarussov, and bass clarinetist Guillaume Bourque. We all went to Banff together but this will be the first time all four of us have played in one ensemble. It's in Clara Hall, again, from 2-4 pm.

As for other people's gigs: Last night I saw Quinsin Nachoff with Mark Helias, Jim Black and a string quartet of Québécois, playing all of Quinsin's originals. Quinsin's sounding fantastic on tenor and soprano, with great control of both horns, and a fantastic altissimo on the tenor that reminded me at times of Michael Blake. It was great to see Jim Black live, finally - the drum solo he unleashed on the last tune was a marvel of colour and gadgetry. He was pulling out various percussion accessories that hadn't made appearances in the concert previously, seemingly materializing out of thin air. Helias had some phenomenal bass solos on the second set. The strings and trio were tight together, in terms of Jim and Mark catching all the punches and playing dynamically, but I found the writing to be busy for my tastes, and I wanted to hear a little bit more of uninterrupted trio playing. "Whorls," for sax and strings, as well as the aforementioned concluding piece, loaded with trio and solo improvisations, were the most effective use of musical resources of the night.

Tempo di "bounce, les gros!"

It seems that amid all the "Montreal-is-the-new-Seattle" pants-wetting (thank you, Arcade Fire) that happened last year, domestic and foreign press systematically overlooked a lot of the developments in the Francophone music scene, which has produced some very impressive groups in my estimation. Additionally, there is a fairly thriving "new music" scene here in Quebec, with the SMCQ, the music programs of McGill, Concordia, UdeM and the Conservatoire de Montreal.

And, apparently, they've commingled. Le Consort Contemporain de Québec, led by 25 year old Nicolas Jobin, has gotten his feet wet in the Francophone festival scene - reinterpreting the music of Québecois vedettes through the lens of new music. First it was chansonnier Pierre Lapointe, and here is the CCQ's collaboration with sovereignist hip-hoppers Loco Locass. As a purely social statement/experiment, it's interesting. Musically it's not half-bad, either - an intriguing take on hip-hop, to be sure (percussion is of the pitched variety more often than not). I've always liked the flow of the MCs in Loco Locass.

The video lacks audience shots - I wonder how many of the people at that concert were CCQ followers or new music devotees in general, how many were Loco Locass fans, and how much investigation of the other music occurred after the fact. With all the recent blogging on collisions and the reclamation of new music by bands like Alarm Will Sound and Eighth Blackbird, this seems like as worthy an entry as any.

Movement post-mortem/Strings preview

Back on the 10th, Kweku & The Movement opened for Throwback at a just-opened venue called Le National Music Hall. It's a converted theatre - it used to be used for television filmings, but now the management of Cabaret Music Hall/La Tulipe have taken it over. In fact, Cabaret Music Hall doesn't exist anymore - it's all moved to Le National. Reminiscent of Toronto's The Opera House, it has a big stage and balcony. It differs with a very sloped floor.

Gig-wise, we played well (save a couple of miscommunication flubs) and had fun. I'll give the sound guys and techs the benefit of the doubt because they're all new. But it was strange - I had what may have been the best monitor mix I've yet to encounter in a rock club, yet the keyboards weren't coming through out front. The bassist could barely hear the drummer, even though they were standing beside each other. As a friend commented later, inebriated patrons shouldn't be doing a paid employee's job better than they are - i.e. our friends shouldn't be correcting the sound men on the mix. I'm just convinced that sound guys don't know how to deal with keyboards anymore.

Up next for The Movement: March 3 at Cafe Campus. Details to come.

***

Had the first rehearsal for the Indigone Trio + Strings recital last night. We're doing 6 of my arrangements and 2 by Alex. All I have to say is wow. I don't want to let cats out of the bag prematurely but this is proving to be the best recital I have put together yet. We started the rehearsal with an arrangement that I sort of rushed and wasn't completely sold on, and by the end of it I had shivers. Alex and I are complementary composers; our styles differ (sometimes fairly drastically) but they really work together. His two originals are really stunning.

I am incredibly privileged to have the opportunity to work with such wonderful, open and creative musicians. The concert is March 2, 2006, in Clara Lichtenstein Recital Hall. 8 pm. Free.

PSA

Kweku & The Movement (in which I play keyboards) are opening for Throwback (Montreal funky-folk-rock, see today's Montreal Gazette for profile) TOMORROW NIGHT!
Friday, February 10, 2006 at a new club called Le National Music Hall (1220 Ste. Catherine E., metro Beaudry). Tickets are available in advance for $10 through me, or $12 at the door. We hit at 9 pm.

The Movement is: Kweku Kwofie - vox/keys; Akua Carson & Katie Hampton - vox; Mikael Tobias - guitar; yours truly - keys; Anna Ruddick - electric bass; Mark Nelson - drums.

Opportunities and treasures

I got involved with CKUT and Jazz Euphorium at the beginning of 2004, slowly immersing myself in the world of collective college/community radio. It's proven to be a treasure trove of opportunity, as I've had the occasion to interview and meet many fabulous musicians (whom, as a musician myself, I view more as a colleague than as an interview subject), work with fantastically knowledgeable co-hosts, and explore music I'd otherwise never have access to or never think to listen to. The CKUT library is an incredible resource, receiving new releases all the time, as well as having a huge archive of lesser-known recordings.

Case in point: in preparing the AACM feature last night (check the JE blog for the playlist and more information), I went rummaging through the Anthony Braxton collection, which is fairly extensive. I came across a disc entitled Creative Orchestra Music 1976 (Arista). I put it on for preview, and the first track impressed me for its intricate, irreverent melody and rhythmic drive. As we aired the piece, I started leafing through the liner notes, and the motley crew of personnel floored me: a trumpet section made up of Cecil Bridgewater, Kenny Wheeler, Jon Faddis, and Leo Smith; George Lewis on trombone; Dave Holland on bass; Muhal Richard Abrams on piano. Elsewhere on the album, Roscoe Mitchell joins the reed section, Frederick (sic) Rzewski appears on piano (often alongside Muhal) and percussion, and Barry Altschul is behind the drum set. I am definitely going to have to track down this album.

Other discoveries included the Air record 80° Below '82 (Antilles), which John Corbett once trumpeted in his "Vinyl Freak" Down Beat column, and Kahil El'Zabar's Ritual Trio which my co-host Natalie brought along.

Jazz Euphorium for February 1, 2006

(x-posted to the Official Jazz Euphorium Blog)

To kick off Black History Month, Jazz Euphorium will profile the history and influence of the Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians (AACM). Natalie Simmons and I will be co-hosting the show. For my part, I wish to acknowledge the work of Vijay Iyer, whose fantastic paper on African-American musical collectivism can be found here.

Jazz Euphorium is a collective jazz radio show on CKUT (90.3 FM, Montreal). It airs Wednesday nights from 8-10 pm EST - you can tune in online and stream/download archives. Playlists are generally archived on the blog within a couple of days after the show.

Current inspirations

John Adams - The Chairman Dances
Darcy James Argue - Live at Bowery Poetry Club, 01/20/2006
Bob Brookmeyer & New Art Orchestra - Waltzing with Zoe
Sylvie Courvoisier & Mark Feldman - Book of Angels, Vol. 3: Malphas (Zorn)
Djavan - Djavan & Alumbramento
Thelonious Monk - Live at the It Club: Complete

Lots of projects on the go. This weekend will hopefully be filled with eraser marks and pencil lead. This, in addition to two gigs with Kweku - tomorrow we're playing at the ICCA quarterfinals (and supporting the McGill a cappella groups), and Sunday we're playing, semi-unplugged, at Zeke's Gallery.

Music as language

I'm in my senior year of my Bachelor's degree, and my elective courses in both semesters have been French and Linguistics. My schedule has created a neat compartmentalization of domains: Monday, Wednesday and Friday are my language days (excepting my piano lessons on Wednesdays), and Tuesday and Thursday contained music courses. Linguistics, especially, has edified the clich¿ of music being a universal language.

Chomsky is credited with establishing the idea of Universal Grammar (UG), the notion that language is something innate in humanity, as every human has the capacity to learn at least one language. There are certain aspects of language that are now determined to be "acquired," as opposed to "learned." Children "learn" through what they hear spoken around them, not through correction or instruction - yet this input alone is not enough to account for the sentences, and indeed, systematic errors that they utter in development. Similarly, music has its own lexicon and its own syntax, some of which can be taught and some of which can only be gleaned through osmosis. It could be argued that the ability to conceive and perceive music is another distinctly human trait (and no, I'm not counting the damned "Jingle Bell" dogs as an exception to this). There is music in bird calls and other natural phenomena, but animals do not perceive this musicality in the same way we do. If anyone knows of studies that prove me wrong, let me know.

The past week or so has contained a startling unity between my musical philosophies and experiences and my academic readings. Lately, I've started reading many blogs on music of various types including those by Kyle Gann, Darcy James Argue, and Dave Douglas, which contain many phenomenal essays on the intersections of various music. My Linguistics reading in the past week includes an essay on multilingualism by Suzanne Romaine.

Romaine opens her paper by stating that multilingualism is not the anomaly many Western English-speakers presume it to be; rather, it is the way of life for the majority of the world's population. It is monolingualism that is the aberration. And, indeed, every language speaker (multilingual or not) switches among languages, dialects or styles, depending on context. Within multilingualism, there is still a lingering notion in studies involving children that languages are segregated by parent, though there are studies in which research refutes this practice. There is even a whole field of study called "contact linguistics" which investigates the process and outcome of the contact of two or more languages.

The correlation between domains became quite evident to me. Despite the prescriptive sects of purists across the board, many musicians are fluent (to varying degrees) of many styles of music, and it would almost be delusional to think that these genres would have no influence upon each other. It is limiting to the musician, the audience, and music as a whole to prohibit the cross-talk of languages and styles.

So far as jazz goes, we are well into the generations of musicians who were not raised on that music initially. Classical, rock and/or hip-hop are just as prevalent in each musician's personal upbringing at this point (if they don't, in fact, eclipse jazz in early importance). It is downright foolish to promote a monolinguistic view of jazz; jazz with tunnel vision; jazz in a protective bubble, removed from the outside world. Let's not forget that all the great jazz musicians were polyglots: Miles' entire career is a prime example; Bird was known to have checked out Stravinsky (who wrote the "Ebony Concerto" for Woody Herman's big band); Billy Strayhorn knew the music of Debussy and Ravel as well as the Tin Pan Alley tradition; Vladimir Horowitz once said he'd have loved to play piano like Art Tatum; and the list goes on. Never mind that our revered Great American Songbook is comprised of music that once were popular tunes, heard on the radio and on jukeboxes. And why is it that we're no longer allowed to amend that book and add chapters?

Additionally, what of subgenres (or dialects, if you will?) In my estimation, the greatest free improvisers have reached their level of proficiency and musicality due to their understanding of the syntax and structure of composed music. Conversely, when musicians with a history of free improvising address standard or composed repertoire, there is this freedom within composition that is entirely due to their adventures in spontaneous creation.

As Pat Metheny said this past summer, for music to be relevant, it must reflect the context of which it is a product. This is a key reason why Louis Armstrong, Charlie Parker, Ornette Coleman, John Coltrane, and all the masters still sound "fresh" today. They were connected to their community and, above all, themselves. If we are to truly carry the torch of any music, that is the golden rule.

In my brief musical lifetime, I have played jazz, rock, hip-hop, funk, gospel and musical theatre (and hacked my way through classical); I have played compositions, composed myself, arranged and re-arranged other peoples' work, and I have improvised freely. I am indebted to artists that cross the globe and the musical spectrum. I speak some languages more fluently than others, but like a person's linguistic proficiency and even language itself, that is open to change.

IAJE reports, part 2

Friday was the day we'd all been waiting for. I wound up taking a different bus into town, and whereas the commute took half an hour on Thursday, it took more like 45 or 50 minutes, including blowing by the Port Authority subway entrance by about a block. I was flustered, and went out the 53rd and Broadway exit of the subway, standing right in front of the Ed Sullivan Theater. I regrouped, found my way to the Hilton and went to soundcheck for our set. Started to feel like I was coming down with something, and after soundcheck went and got some tea.

The set was warmly received and we got some great comments and made some good contacts. As a group we gelled and got our Indigone vibe across. After the set, we went our separate ways: Alex checked out more of the conference; Liam went for a lesson with Ben Perowsky; I went out for lunch, to Times Square and the Virgin Megastore. The Megastore is a dangerous, dangerous place, akin to setting a small child with a sweet tooth loose in a candy factory. I purchased only one disc, which I had not been able to find in Montreal: Paul Motian's Monk In Motian with Bill Frisell, Joe Lovano, Dewey Redman and Geri Allen. Phenomenal record.

I then headed back to the Hilton to see my Canadian colleagues autorickshaw, who were as impressive as always. Vocalist Suba Sankaran and tabla player Ed Hanley took the occasion to explain Indian musical concepts to the audience. Bassist Rich Brown was killing as usual, and it was really cool to hear Mark McLean on drums in that style. I?ve only ever heard him play straightahead swing or deep funk.

I had to leave the autorickshaw set early in order to try and get a decent seat for one of the shows I could not afford to miss: the Jazz Big Band Graz playing the music of John Hollenbeck. It was a good thing I got there early, because there was a large (albeit deceptively large) line to get in. I wound up sitting in the middle of the Sheraton Metropolitan Ballroom. Decent enough seat for visuals, and soundwise it was great. I was blown away: most of the music came from the JBBG's disc of Hollenbeck music - I had only heard Hollenbeck's own Large Ensemble disc called A Blessing. The music was adventurous, creative and exploratory - the first tune, "The Bird With The Coppery, Keen Claws," featured the entire band emulating bird calls with vocalist Theo Bleckmann reciting Wallace Stevens poetry. It took me a while to warm to it, but then they continued with a phenomenal composition called "Just Like Him" which converted me entirely. Hollenbeck has never hidden his affection for non-jazz music, and his influences are as varied as minimalist and post-minimalist 20th century classical music, world and folkloric music, and rock. He purposefully avoids using standard big band sounds, and refers to his own group as his Large Ensemble. And it's evident in his music. External influences include poetry (the suite "Joys & Desires" takes its title, and third movement, from William Blake's poem "The Garden of Love") and art ("Maxfield," dedicated to Maxfield Parish). He has a very dry wit, too: "This next tune is called 'Abstinence.' The first part has to do with abstinence, and the second has to do with... what comes after abstinence. The bass solo will be played by Henning Stevens, who has no personal connection to abstinence whatsoever." The second movement of "Joys And Desires" came to him in a dream he had about Gil Evans and Tim Berne dancing together. I was killing myself laughing at the idea. John Hollenbeck is highly recommended to fans of progressive jazz or classical music.

Hollenbeck ran overtime, so I left in the middle of "Abstinence" to go see this panel entitled "How Much Can You Make?" It just went around in circles for an hour: clubs won't book artists who don't have a record, and representation helps; management won't look at an artist who they haven't heard of through gigs or records; and you can't sell records unless you have an audience through gigs and promotion. It's great to hear the perspective of industry legends, but in a certain way it's rather useless: the panelists didn't deal with musicians who are just breaking into the lower rungs of the industry, and haven't dealt with them for years. Each facet is interdependent with the others, but no one is willing to say which branch is more important or who you need first. I walked out knowing just as much (if not less) than when I walked in, angry that I had missed Hollenbeck music. As the woman beside me said, "Discussing industry is much like discussing God - you get used to it going in circles." I ran into Lorie Wolf, the drummer from the Sisters in Jazz band, who was kind enough to stop by my set in the morning.

Lorie and I were supposed to met before the big evening concert, which didn't happen. The concert honored the NEA Jazz Masters (Ray Baretto, Tony Bennett, Bob Brookmeyer, Chick Corea, Buddy DeFranco, Freddie Hubbard, and John Levy). None of those musicians played that night - honouring them were Jon Faddis and the Jon Faddis Jazz Orchestra, and the Basie band with Nnenna Freelon. I have respect for all the musicians in those bands, but the music was all rather tame and uninspiring, especially in the wake of Glasper and Hollenbeck. Hell, the Basie band brought legendary pianist Barry Harris out, only to play "Misty" behind Nnenna Freelon. It was not an effective use of resources. The upside of the concert was the woman I was sitting beside, an old and vocal jazz fan who happened to have gone to high school with Dewey Redman and Julius Hemphill, and was a personal friend of Ornette Coleman. The video montages and acceptance speeches were good, and Nancy Wilson broke down while honoring her manager, John Levy. I only stuck around to hear Bob Brookmeyer's speech, and then skipped out to go get a seat for the Mingus band.

I haven't been to a real, sho'-'nuff down-home church with a huge, swaying, soulful choir... but I imagine that the Mingus bands come close to what a service in that sort of house of worship would be like. It was a riotous, energetic affair. It started with Mingus Dynasty, a small group. Sue Mingus introduced the band by way of mentioning that they couldn't find the trumpet part to the tune they were supposed to play, so they did "Pithecanthropus Erectus" instead. Pianist George Colligan walked on about halfway through the tune and just started playing - I guess he'd been on the hunt for the part. It was good to finally have the opportunity to see George play, as I'd heard a lot about him through his wife, Kerry (another Banff colleague). Trombonist Ku-umba Frank Lacy is the showstopper of all the bands, though - from his guttural, motorcycle-revving trombone to his blues shouting to his wildly eccentric conducting, he's the embodiment of all of Mingus' wildness. The Mingus Orchestra played Mingus' more chamber-like works, "The Chill of Death" and "Todo Modo." The instrumentation was rather odd: French Horn, bassoon, trombone, bass clarinet, trumpet, alto/flute, tenor, guitar, bass and drums. I'd never heard these works of Mingus', and as a general rule across all three ensembles, they chose rare works. The Big Band played more obscurities like "Song With Orange." It was hard to really showcase each band within the hour set time they had, but the Big Band kicked ass. It's rare to see a tribute/repertory band that really captures the essence of the person they try to honour, but these bands did it mightily.

Saturday began with a clinic on how to play Hammond organ. I was too chicken to go up and volunteer to make an ass out of myself, but it was quite informative. Some of the information I knew already (like the drawbar system and such), but Rhoda Scott's tips on how to get around the pedals were incredibly helpful. I kind of wish she had talked about how to turn the organ on. That's one of the harder parts of the whole thing. There was comedy through the whole clinic, too. The first volunteer was named Will, the second was named Willie. She asked, "Is everyone in here named Will?!" A third volunteer got up, and said, "My name's Marc, but my friends call me Will."

The next clinic was about arranging for big band in 3 hours, and some of the advice was reminiscent of what Mike Malone told me years ago at the Kincardine Summer Jazz Festival. The clinician, Michael Philip Mossman, advised us to really think about what you're writing before you start writing. He handed out a checklist of questions that you answer in sort of a "mission statement" format before you set pencil to manuscript paper. These techniques and questions are obviously more appropriate if you're writing a chart on commission or deadline, as opposed to an extended work in the vein of John Hollenbeck, perhaps, but they were still quite useful.

Apparently, this year marked the inauguration of the SOCAN/IAJE Canadian Composition award, named for and awarded to Phil Nimmons. Playing Nimmons' commission was the Dave McMurdo Jazz Orchestra. A lot of the musicians were friends and colleagues of mine from Toronto, so it was great to hear them and see them again. I had worked with Alex, McMurdo, pianist Brian Dickinson and trumpeter Mike Malone out at Kincardine when I was a young teenager, and knew other members of his band from hanging around the Toronto jazz scene. Saxophonist Quinsin Nachoff did a semester at McGill and I got to play with him then, as well. I was impressed with this extended work of his called "Conversations: Aural Communications." He utilized the band to full effect, often breaking it down to conversational interludes between two or three soloists. It was a pretty empty room though - there were stragglers in and out during the performance.

Having taken a lunch break, I missed Maria Schneider signing autographs, and according to Darcy's blog, there was a one-on-one interview between Maria Schneider and Bob Brookmeyer that wasn't listed in the schedule. Grr. I made it back in time to catch the last part of the Sisters in Jazz set. I don't know what it is about Canada breeding female bassists, but the rhythm section was solid (Lorie and Lauren Falls, both from Humber). The pianist and altoist were both good, but I didn't hear them enough to make a really well-informed opinion of her playing. The trombonist I had heard the night before at the Latin jam session, and she was quite impressive.

I then went to a clinic given by Irish bassist Ronan Guilfoyle on The Art and Science of Time. One thing he said, which makes total sense but not many people talk about, is that musical problems are NOT solved on your instrument - they are solved within you. Rhythm, for Guilfoyle, is a physical thing, and to master rhythm and time one must become a rhythmic being. He gave out exercises using solely a metronome, clapping and singing, and played Coltrane's "Giant Steps" and "All Blues" solos and we listened to them from a rhythmic perspective.

There was a panel on Jazz Education in Scandinavia afterwards. Some of you may know that my level of interest in the Scandinavian jazz scene is fairly elevated. I've had the good fortune to meet and play with some incredible musicians from Norway and Denmark. I had been anticipating this panel ever since it was announced, so that I could get information on how the conservatories in those countries work. One could say I had high expectations for this panel.

Not only did this panel fall far below my expectations, it was atrocious, uninformative and insulting. I don't know who the moderator was, but each question he asked was designed to piss somebody off. He backed the Dane into a corner, forcing him to defend the uniquely Danish concept of "rhythmic music" (as opposed to a "jazz" conservatory); he made a stupid remark about Norwegian jazz and the obsession with fjords and forests, and goaded the Norwegian representative into a line of rhetoric about the commercialization of American jazz education which seemed to serve the sole person of aggravating renowned American saxophonist and educator (and fellow panelist) Dave Liebman; and I left when he asked whether the amount of government involvement in the arts made Swedish music students lazy, because they didn't have to work. No one benefits from this inflammatory, Jerry Springer bullshit. This was the lowlight of the conference, by far.

I then trudged over to the Sheraton with a very bad taste in my mouth, awaiting a panel on what jazz and hip-hop can learn from each other. When the panel began, I noticed six chairs and only three panelists - the moderator, Tamara Conniff from Billboard, journalist John Murph, and professor Mark Baszak from UMass. The other panelists who were no-shows included DJ Spinna, Maurice Bernstein from Giant Step records, and Andy Hurwitz from Ropeadope records (whom I really wanted to meet). I stuck it out for the whole thing, hoping those who were MIA would show up, but they didn't, and it wasn't all that great of a panel anyway. I felt bad for missing Christine & Ingrid Jensen for this.

The final evening concert of the conference was opened by the Louisville Leopard Percussionists from New Albany, IN. Out strolled a parade of about 30 or 40 elementary schoolchildren, and they took their places behind a batallion of percussion: drum kit, congas, bongos, marimbas, xylophones and glockenspiels. They started with an arrangement of "Caravan," and everyone in the Hilton ballroom was smiling. The kids were engaged and cute, and for their age they played quite well. They were surprisingly tight. They then had the balls to do Chick Corea's "Spain" (Chick was playing right after them), and did quite the job on it. Then, this kid who couldn't have been more than 10, started swinging his ass off on tom-toms for "Sing, Sing, Sing." Single-handedly, this group defeated the doomsday scenarios presented by a lot of lecturers at the IAJE conference: jazz is not dying, and kids are still involved with the music. We just have to stop underestimating their attention spans and interests, and keep arts programs in the schools! I also think we need all-ages matinees in clubs (especially in the States), and to bring jazz groups around to high schools and middle schools.

Chick took the stage with Eddie Gomez and Jack DeJohnette, and they played standards. It was high level and impressive, but a little bit rough around the edges. Chick admitted they hadn't rehearsed, and it showed, though the concluding free improvisation was stunningly cohesive and tight. To hear Jack and Eddie tell old road stories with and about Chick was a nice touch as well. The UNT One O'Clock Lab band followed, and they sounded like a pro level big band. The lead trumpeter had a hell of a range, and they were solid. The arrangements left something to be desired (and they could have easily chosen NOT to have played a second rendition of "Caravan"), although the original trumpet feature that ended their set was cool.


And then, easily, the highlight of the conference: the Trondheim Jazz Orchestra with Chick. Absolutely stunning, and it reaffirmed why I want to go to Scandinavia to study. These musicians are so open and free-thinking - jazz is admittedly NOT part of their cultural heritage or legacy, and they treat it as just another colour in their palette. They don't feel straitjacketed by the tradition as many American and Canadian schools do. They blew Chick's music wide open: extended interludes and abstracted extrapolations abounded. The conductor/composer/arranger had the audacity to arrange Chick's solo on "Matrix," and put the melody in the tuba! With other tunes he arranged ("Crystal Silence" and "Windows," and there was one other which I can't remember right now), my initial reaction was "I can't believe he's doing that to this song." It always worked, but they were ideas and treatments that would have never entered my mind. The band went from free improvisation and avant-garde conducted passages to intricately composed sections, often within the same song. The influence of minimalism and classical music was quite clear here - in fact, there were a lot of similarities between the TJO writing and the work of John Hollenbeck (who has spent quite a bit of time in Europe). It was pure joy and incredibly inspiring to hear this group play. I skipped out on going to see the equally-impressive-I'm-sure Kenny Werner Trio, because I wanted this to resonate in my head. I wanted to remember this and protect it as the last music I heard at IAJE.