Murphy's Law

You don’t have to be a jazz fan to appreciate that picture. But it helps.

Most people have never heard of Joe Maneri, so not too many folks are mourning the August 24 passing of this great musician. In addition to being a beloved teacher and father of jazz violinist Mat Maneri, he is rightly considered a pioneering figure in music. His inclusion of Turkish and Klezmer music into a more free jazz (think Ornette Coleman playing with one of Sun Ra’s bands covering traditional European music at a Greek orthodox wedding and you begin to get the picture) helped liberate and expand the possibilities of jazz improvisation. Like Coleman and Sun Ra, Maneri was an astute and original composer: his work is not immediately accessible, but patient ears quickly identify a very consistent logic and style.

Anyone who has seen the excellent American Splendor (a film celebrating the life of curmudgeonly comic book artist Harvey Pekar) has heard Maneri: his impossibly cool ”Paniots Nine” accompanies the opening credits. Pekar allegedly insisted that Maneri’s music be used, and this stands to reason as Pekar (himself a jazz critic) championed a largely obscure Maneri back in the ’90s. Indeed, it was John Zorn who helped release Paniots Nine (the title of the first track is also the title of the album), which makes all the sense in the world considering Zorn effectively took up Maneri’s baton in the ’80s and began cleverly integrating traditional Jewish music into his own compositions. It’s fair to say that Maneri, though lamentably overlooked for entirely too long, was the first major composer to actively bring those disparate elements and influences into free (but still swinging) jazz.

Anyone interested in some adventurous, unexpected, yet oddly familiar jazz would be happy to hear this album. The fact that this baby was languishing in the Atlantic Records’ vaults is both unbelievable and entirely typical. Of course this revelatory music would fall on the deaf ears of the dumb executives. Same as it ever was. Suffice it to say, jazz enthusiasts are forever indebted to Harvey Pekar for helping this see the light of day.

Father and son, together on stage making a joyful noise:

If asked who kept time for John Coltrane, most folks would go with Elvin Jones, as Jones was part of the “Classic Quartet” for the better part of the ’60s. But once Coltrane began moving further and further out, the great McCoy Tyner was replaced by Alice McLeod (later Alice Coltrane) and Jones was replaced by Rashied Ali (who passed on August 12). Although he was a serious and prolific musician in his own rite, he is most famously associated with Coltrane, particularly his work on what turned out to be Trane’s last sessions, (the ones that subsequently resulted in Interstellar Space and Expression). Much has been written about the former, not so much about the latter. Interstellar Space is in many ways all things to all people: it is simply a series of duets between Coltrane and Ali, but there is nothing simple about it. It is forbidding, volcanic, disorienting, gorgeous and exhausting. Simpletons would say it can scarcely be considered music; true believers insist it’s revelatory. For me it’s certainly sacred stuff, but an experience sufficiently intense that I only crave it on special occasions. Regardless, it was, and remains, remarkable–in concept but especially in execution–that Ali was willing (and able) to work without a net and go mano a mano with Coltrane, then at his most excoriating. It is a unique document for this fact alone; that it manages to succeed helps underscore the devotion fans have attached to it over the years.

And while I can only handle Interstellar Space in irregular doses, I continue to be mesmerized by Expression. This one features a full band, including Alice Coltrane (piano), the great Jimmy Garrison (part of the Classic Quartet) on bass, and Ali on drums. For the album’s centerpiece, the sixteen-plus minute opus “To Be”, Coltrane makes an especially inspired choice by bringing in Pharoah Sanders: the result is a duo of sorts (Coltrane for the first and only time playing flute for an entire song on record and Sanders accompanying him on piccolo). Garrison and Alice Coltrane provide an anchor for the woodwinds, which circle and flutter like moths above a streetlight. But in many ways, Rashied Ali is the focal point of the proceedings; he is never busy but always present, expertly managing to remain quietly intense in the background. This is percussion as painting: each brush stroke adding up to something bigger and more meaningful. It is a near perfect symmetry of cerebral instinct and graceful dexterity, and it is the type of sensitive yet forceful accompaniment that made Ali a legend. He is already missed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After my ardent endorsement of Rashanim (the great trio who have just released what may well be the best album of the year), I would be remiss to not also mention a new name we can hope to hear much more from in the years ahead. Yoshie Fruchter, also a guitarist, released his debut on Tzadik entitled Pitom in late 2008, and it is as indispensable as any of the Rashanim releases (“Pitom”, incidentally, means “suddenly” in Hebrew). It is similar in that it’s (mostly) rocking jazz with an explicitly Jewish sensibility, but where Madof’s traditional roots are always discernible, Fruchter sounds somewhat like a precocious younger brother who found the stash of ’70s prog rock albums and never put them down. In a (very) good way. Indeed, the kinship with the great King Crimson outfit of the early-to-mid ’70s is undeniable, not merely because both bands feature the same instrumentation (drums, bass, guitar and viola): there are songs on Pitom that recall some of the more adventurous tracks from Red and Larks’ Tongues in Aspic.

Check it out:

 

But this is not to imply that the music is a postmodern reduction of those progressive milestones (brilliant though they are); Fruchter is also very adept at distilling the essence of jazz improvisation into his rock-meets-klezmer workouts:

And then there is this one, which is a wonderfully schizophrenic cross-section of influences; it’s kind of like a demented German march, (with shades of Oompa Loompa, circa 1971:)

As I say, Pitom is, like Rashanim’s work, categorized under Tzadik’s “Radical Jewish Culture” series. Apparently that moniker has, at times since its inception, proven to be problematic. John Zorn, aside from being a genius, is nothing if not controversial, and this ability to provoke is a constant (and probably necessary) tool in his arsenal. Put another way, there is always a method to his “madness”. Here is what he had to say earlier this year, which is about as straightforward as it gets:

I’ve got a lot on my plate, and I’m not one of these guys who wants to relive my days of beatnik glory. That’s not my modus operandi. I want to keep moving forward come up w/ new ideas and try things out. I think my role in this society — on the planet — is to take some chances and to make some music and ask some questions. Some of what I do is entertaining and fun for people to listen to, but entertainment is not why I’m doing this. This is art music. This is music that in some ways can raise questions and can deal with consciousness and — I honestly believe — can make the world a better place.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So, what is Radical Jewish Culture, exactly?

John Zorn, who curates the Tzadik label and, as anyone who has read this blog should know, is responsible for creating some of the best boundary-crossing music over the last several decades, talks about his rationale for the provocative and loaded depiction:

The series is an ongoing project. A challenge posed to adventurous musical thinkers. What is jewish music? What is its future? If asked to make a contribution to jewish culture, what would you do? Can jewish music exist without a connection to klezmer, cantorial or yiddish theatre? All of the cds on the tzadik RJC series address these issues through the vision and imagination of individual musical minds.

Much controversy and discussion has arisen over the Great Jewish Music series and on several occasions this has taken the form of a personal attack on me, my work, my sincerity and my integrity. Clearly the inclusion of music with no overt jewish content may seem out of place in a series dedicated to jewish music and it is very gratifying to experience the power the word (or the image) continues to exert on the human spirit. The operational word here is “music”—if I had titled the series Great Jewish Composers perhaps there would have been no further discussion.

It seems important to mention that the name Radical Jewish Culture was chosen with serious deliberation. There is little question that the contributions of Franz Kafka, Mark Rothko, Albert Einstein, Walter Benjamin, Lenny Bruce and Steven Spielberg have all been embraced as central to jewish culture in the 20th century. The logical question that arises is—is there jewish content in their work? Well, at times yes, at times no—and in using the term “great jewish music” I am raising that question—albeit a bit tongue-in-cheek, and not without a small tip of the hat to the Art Ensemble of Chicago.

 

Kudos to Zorn for helping young artists like Madof and Fruchter reach an audience.

Bottom line: this is exciting and formidable new music. This is music that requires imagination and intelligence on the part of the listener (those with deficiencies in either department need not apply). Mostly, this is music that is not intended to massage the air around you while you focus on other things. It is music that challenges and enriches. It asks questions and also provides answers. Yes, it even manages to make the world a better place, and when you get down to it, that’s what art is all about. Right?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Guess what? Rashanim has recently released what will undoubtedly stand as one of the best albums of 2009.

Guess what else? Rashanim has been making incredible music for the better part of this decade.

One more thing: you are not the only person who has, unfortunately, not heard (or heard of) this band. For all the right reasons, changing that should become a priority in your life. Trust me. I hope and expect to hear many more noteworthy new albums in 2009, but I sincerely doubt I will come across another effort as profoundly effective and moving as this one.

So, who are Rashanim? They are a jazz trio operating out of New York City who describe themselves on their website as a “Jewish power trio: Rashanim (‘noisemakers’ in Hebrew) combines the power of rock with the spontaneity of improvisation, deep Middle Eastern grooves and mystical Jewish melodies.” Led by guitarist Jon Madof, the band also includes bassist Shanir Ezra Blumenkranz and drummer Mathias Kunzli. They record for John Zorn’s label Tzadik and are categorized in its “Radical Jewish Culture” series. (Being neither Jewish nor radical, I still find this concept rather rad, and to be certain, some of the very best music in the world is being created on Zorn’s middle-finger-to-the-industry label.)

I first encountered them in 2003 when they appeared on two of Zorn’s Masada special-guest projects, Voices in the Wilderness and The Unknown Masada. (Both of these sets are enthusiastically recommended, and they feature diverse acts ranging from Fantomas to Eyvind Kang and Jamie Saft.) I excitedly picked up their eponymous debut (also released in ‘03) and was not disappointed. In 2005 they experimented further with Zorn’s songbook, releasing Masada Rock, an effort that lived up to its name and featured the always amazing Marc Ribot on multiple tracks. This band was quite obviously around to stay, and it couldn’t get any better than this, I thought. I was wrong. In late 2006 they released Shalosh,which showcased Madof’s infectious surf guitar thrash attack, but also represented an ever-evolving compositional prowess. This effort boasts several acoustic guitar tracks that retain the intensity of the electric workouts. Madof was finding an ideal balance between the traditional inspiration of his source material and the dexterous, even restless proficiency of his skill set: he is a player equally comfortable invoking the Temple or the mosh pit. The songs are serious and complex, yet they are accessible and addictive; they are polished to the extent that all potential excess is eliminated and each composition says precisely what it means to convey utilizing minimal time for maximum impact.

So…what does it sound like? The music is impossible to isolate or explain simply, in part because it incorporates so many disparate influences, using them all as a point of departure. Madof is quite clearly deeply grounded in tradition (both religious and musical), but his invocation of other places and times are very rooted in a modern sensibility. Klezmer? Ancient Jewish music? Jam-band? Surf guitar? All of the above: it’s definitely jazz and it is certainly imbued with a distinctively Jewish sensibility. Above all, it rocks.

If they can only, somehow keep pace with the consistent excellence of the previous efforts, I thought, what a miracle it would be. That was then and this is now, and I’m here to proclaim it from the mountaintop: miracles happen and Rashanim’s The Gathering is cause for joy bordering on disbelief. This, truly, is as good as contemporary music is capable of being, and the latest release is their best work yet.

Like Zorn’s Masada albums, many of the songs have biblical or Hebrew titles (sometimes both), and for the most devout or scholarly (particularly the scholarly devout) these songs may accrue added levels of significance; but like much of Zorn’s catalog, the individual tunes can–and should–be appreciated simply for their superior craftsmanship and the almost inexpressible joy they provide. Like Zorn, and like many of the best composers, the melodies are effusive: instantly identifiable after only a few listens yet strikingly distinctive. This music challenges but rewards abundantly.

On The Gathering Madof never plugs in (it’s an all-acoustic affair) but if anything, the sounds are more varied and ambitious than ever. For instance, Madof breaks out a banjo for multiple songs, to outstanding effect, and the others flesh out the sound with the inspired use of glockenspiel, melodica and jaw harp. There is a warmth and intelligence enveloping all twelve of these cuts, and one marvels at Madof’s ability to constantly create space for himself while creating music that is lush without being remotely cluttered. A few of the tracks rather defy description and simply must be heard. For one, “Elijah’s Chair” is a toe-tapping duet between banjo and melodica. Who else does this? Exactly no one. And this is not a random experiment of sounds for novelty’s sake; this is very serious stuff.

On one of the stronger tracks, “Deborah”, the intensity is ratcheted up as Kunzli smashes the drums while Madof works a mean slide over multi-tracked acoustic (and banjo) strumming. The groove is in full effect on “Elijah’s Chariot”, and Madof continues to impress with his acoustic guitar proficiency (it would be difficult to imagine any fan of, say, Dave Matthews Band or Phish or Medeski Martin and Wood not digging this: if the better jam bands out there are unspooling novellas on the stage, Rashanim is crafting short stories: equally compelling, but with a clever, if strategic economy of notes). Another standout is “Kings”, featuring some of Madof’s most inspired writing/playing thus far: the song is calmly insistent, but not urgent; there is palpable energy that eschews feedback or effects to convey a feeling. The tracks that close the album, “Jeremiah” and “Joshua” take the proceedings to another level, that other place the best art is capable of connecting us with. Over a chanted invocation (in Hebrew), Madof uncorks yet another inventive and enticing melody: it sounds like something that could be played in a place of worship, yet it retains a  bluesy, almost somber edge. The final song slowly builds up as a guitar/banjo conversation, and then the drums and bass come in, ratcheting up the tension until it finally breaks with a joyous, sing-along outro. The band is firing on all cylinders.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So…healing music? What is that supposed to mean?

Well, the great news is that we should properly relish the runaway democratization of content, with artists (like John Zorn) creating their own labels to more effectively disseminate their unfiltered (and unsanitized) vision. This is happening with all art, but musicians have arguably taken most advantage of the opportunities inherent in the increasingly viable DIY model. This, of course, is a very positive development for both artists and their audience. That said, we are still very much living in a corporate-sponsored country where suit-wearing weasels determine the bottom line based on a focus-grouped free market. For an artist to survive in this era is not an inconsiderable achievement; for an artist to thrive, defiantly crafting an original voice and sharing that vision with people, is cause for genuine celebration. That a musician like Jon Madof is fully committed to expressing his gift of music is enough to restore one’s faith: in music and the people who make it.

I’ve not had much to say, in print, to this point about John Zorn for a variety of reasons, but it ultimately boils down to two very simple issues. First, there is so much to say it’s both exhausting and intimidating to consider; how to even grapple with an output like this? Second, and perhaps more significant, I’m not at all certain my best efforts would sufficiently convey how important his music is (to me, for starters) and how truly all-encompassing his sensibility has become. And that’s just in the last twelve months…

Consider his Masada songbook: 100 compositions he wrote in the early ’90s, and then recorded over the course of ten albums with the (then acoustic) Masada band, including Dave Douglas on trumpet, Greg Cohen on bass and Joey Baron on drums. The klezmer-meets classic Ornette Coleman Quartet vibe, too often and easily invoked as a way of describing what this music sounds like, nevertheless is an acceptably succinct summation. These tunes were covered by another working band, Bar Kokhba (which brought in Cyro Baptista on percussion, Marc Ribot on guitar, Mark Feldman on violin and Eric Friedlander on cello–all mainstays in the NYC downtown music scene), giving the compositions an augmented grandeur that keeps the material challenging (mostly for the players) and always accessible.  The Masada String Trio (Cohen, Feldman and Friedlander) also recorded and performed this material live.

In the early 2000’s Electric Masada, a semi-rotating cast of characters including Trevor Dunn (bass), Jamie Saft (keyboards) and Ikue Mori (laptop and electronics/effects), began to tackle the catalog. The live performances were incendiary (trust me) and all this time, Zorn continued to make other music (tons and tons of it), particularly his always-compelling series of film soundtracks (currently at Volume 23, and counting…). Then, roughly ten years after he completed the first Masada songbook, Zorn challenged himself to compose new material, and quickly found himself with another 100 (!!) compositions, which he christened Masada Book 2: The Book of Angels. Unlike the first book, all recorded by the (acoustic) quartet, this series has been handled by a variety of bands in and outside the NYC jazz circuit, including Medeski Martin and Wood, Secret Chiefs 3, Marc Ribot, Uri Caine, Koby Israelite and The Cracow Klezmer Band. It can be said, without the slightest hint of (intentional) hyperbole that this is by far some of the more moving music recorded so far this century: it is not comparable, really, to anything being created by anyone around at this time. 

Earlier this month Zorn made a very atypical trip to the west coast to hold down a six-day residency at the legendary jazz club Yoshi’s (in San Francisco), and the focus was on the new (and old) Masada material. Zorn, who is notoriously allergic to journalists and conducts formal interviews in much the same way men schedule colonoscopies, sat down with David Pehling from KTVU.com for a fascinating and in-depth discussion. It is highly recommended. A few money quotes, below:

The project for Masada was to create something positive in the Jewish tradition something that maybe takes the idea of Jewish music into the 21st century the way jazz developed from the teens and 1920s into the ’40s, the ’50s, the ’60s and on. That was something that was very inspiring. My idea was ‘Well, can that happen with Jewish music as well?’ Why is Jewish music only considered cantorial and klezmer? Let’s see if we can make some modern statements using new ideas and young imagination and new inst and create something positive.

I’ve got a lot on my plate, and I’m not one of these guys who wants to relive my days of beatnik glory. That’s not my modus operandi. I want to keep moving forward come up w/ new ideas and try things out. I think my role in this society — on the planet — is to take some chances and to make some music and ask some questions. Some of what I do is entertaining and fun for people to listen to, but entertainment is not why I’m doing this. This is art music. This is music that in some ways can raise questions and can deal with consciousness and — I honestly believe — can make the world a better place.

This music is for the world to enjoy. It’s not elitist in any way. I want everyone to enjoy it. But I understand the reality that it’s challenging music and not everybody can enjoy it or appreciate it. Not everybody has the time to do the thinking and do the work to unravel the mysteries that are being presented in these concerts and on these CDs. It’s not an easy thing. And people have enough problems in their lives that they don’t need further problems. But I do champion the fact that this music is important and that the world is better for its existence and that, in some small way, it represents a cry of freedom in the dark ages.

       

For anyone not familiar with Zorn and interested in more, there are several DVDs, available via Zorn’s site Tzadik (the label Zorn runs, which puts out his work and a great deal of the more confrontational and uncategorizable music currently being made): Claudia Heuermann’s documentary Sabbath in Paradise should be part of any Jazz aficionado’s inventory. For anyone else similarly inclined, the three releases above, all from The Book of Angels series, come easily and fervently recommended.

Nice short interview with Zorn, here:

http://link.brightcove.com/services/player/bcpid1785302606?bctid=17373617001

Invitation To A Suicide (DVD Review from PopMatters.com)

by Sean G. Murphy

Taking the Concept of “Pay-per-view” to New and Unusual Places

Stop me if you’ve heard this story before: guy wants money, guy steals from mobster, guy gets caught, guy is informed that his father is dead unless money gets repaid by the end of the week. Naturally, guy decides to hang himself and sell tickets to pay the debt and save his father. Oh, that last part doesn’t sound so familiar? Of course it doesn’t, and it’s exactly this morbidly fascinating—and quite original—solution to the clichéd dilemma that provides Invitation to a Suicide its intriguing potential. Perhaps unfairly, perhaps inevitably, a premise this potent elevates expectations that, alas, the film is not able to deliver. It’s a shame, as this movie has every opportunity to find new ways around old corners and offer an alternate spin on the dark comedy, but, maddeningly, a series of facile shortcuts and self-conscious stylizing call to mind other, far better efforts.
Kaz Malek (Pablo Schreiber) is the dissatisfied son of a humble father who operates a modest bakery in the Polish section of a busy Brooklyn neighborhood. Not particularly anxious to follow in his father’s footsteps, Kaz daydreams about Eva (Katharine Moennig), the beautiful girl he’s loved since childhood, whom he wants to accompany him to happily-ever-after in California. Neither his father nor his would-be girlfriend seem particularly impressed with Kaz, the goofy, if good-natured, underachiever who might not have any idea what he wants to do, but is beginning to understand that doing nothing is not an option.
What is an uninspired and unimaginative guy to do? Rob the Russian mobster upstairs, obviously. Fame, fortune, and a road trip to California are one picked lock away. Predictably, the break-in goes up in smoke (literally), and Kaz ends up burning a wad of cash before he and his accomplice flee the scene. The mobster Ferfichkin (Joseph Urla) tracks them down and in short order Kaz has one dead friend and a dire predicament: come up with $10,000 or watch his father get murdered. So what does our hapless hero do to come up with the money no one in his working class neighborhood is able—or willing—to lend him?
The stakes are vivid enough: this is a matter of life and death, and the moment when Kaz decides to sell tickets to his own suicide should propel the movie into a different, if recondite direction. And yet, everything that follows seems familiar and predictable, from the lazily drawn characters to the outrageous, yet obvious, situations that arise. For instance, Kaz’s friend Krysztof, who agrees to host the event at his funeral parlor, is eager to participate and convinced this will generate business. It’s not so much that this isn’t funny so much as it doesn’t make any sense. And yet this is a minor issue that only underscores the more troublesome fact that Kaz is an increasingly difficult character to like or feel much compassion for. After his accomplice gets whacked, Kaz doesn’t give him a second thought, and that false note encapsulates most of what never feels quite right about this film: the putative consequences are very real, yet the various reactions of everyone involved undermine the narrative’s integrity.
No one in the neighborhood, including his own father, seems particularly troubled about his imminent death, and Kaz himself spends more time worrying about Eva’s attention than the fact that he won’t be around much longer to enjoy it. This handicaps the awkward momentum the movie seems to strive for: since none of the characters seem to be taking this seriously, the viewer has little reason to get invested, especially since there is never much doubt that it’s all going to somehow work out in the end. If all the ostensible nonchalance is supposed to provide a perverse commentary on voyeurism and violence, the writing is not clever enough to pull it off, making it a semi-dark comedy that is neither dark nor funny enough. Or, put a different way, the funny parts seem too forced and the occasional, but crucial, moments of import feel strained.
In the end, the wisest move Loren Marsh makes is having secured the involvement of the ever reliable John Zorn, who composed the remarkable soundtrack. The music accompanies the action like a quirky chorus, providing an alternately buoyant and somber counterpoint for the increasingly predictable proceedings. One wishes more was made of the Brooklyn locale, but the Polish experience and surroundings never come to life or function as a vibrant backdrop the way James Gray utilized Brighton Beach in the overlooked but brilliant Little Odessa . Instead, the clunky camerawork and too-cutesy caricatures call to mind the punk affectations of Clerks , that inordinately praised but obviously influential indie caper.
The marketing materials claim that Invitation to a Suicide is in the absurdist tradition of comedies like Harold and Maude , but this type of flattering comparison only serves to amplify the many ways it falls far short of the masterpiece it unwisely attempts to invoke. In order to rank in the pantheon of indelible black comedies, a filmmaker needs to produce an engaging story with memorably eccentric characters, while creating new ways of working through familiar scenarios. Invitation to a Suicide is simply full of too many obvious faces and easy answers: in a big budget movie they’d be clichés; in this film they are merely disappointments. Nevertheless, it seems fair to hope and even expect that if Loren Marsh could conjure up an idea with this much potential, he has a few more surprises up his sleeve.