Freedom

I've been having troubles in writing a post on free jazz - though it's laughably absurd that I feel a restriction of freedom in posting about freedom. But I don't know how to approach giving a piece of free jazz to someone else to listen to – its just such an acquired taste that I fear only the most resolute admirer will understand its characteristics. I do not feign saying that all free jazz is good music, nor may I even write some of it off as music. It deserves another kind of function, one perhaps better understood by the musicians themselves than the listeners. And it is this absurdity of reversals in roles which make free jazz what it is to me. These musicians are not saying, “I'm making something for the enjoyment of all, I'm giving my time and effort for an altruistic musical approach.” No, no it's something much more sinister, much more, dare I say selfish. Yes, yes of course its absolute selfishness to play what they do, but frankly that's the only way for them to attain musical freedom. Free jazz bands are not bands, they are groups of individual spirits who possess an unrelinquishing urge to attain absolute freedom of musical expression. One may ask, couldn't a free jazz artist achieve this goal alone easier than as a group? My answer is an overwhelming no.

Imagine that you are a prominent theorist (of whatever field you wish) trapped on a deserted island, but throwing aside your sorrow of desertion, you decide to continue your search for understanding. So you go about theorizing, experimenting and so forth. To an outside observer you are confined to the information at hand to you on the island and in you brain. You are restricted by the fact that there isn't another person with whom you may converse to broaden your understanding. Of course if you are remarkably intelligent you can still figure a lot out, but eventually your cloistering will impede progress.

Now try to understand my usage of this analogy in the realm of music. The free jazz artist, aware of his human limitations, then surrounds himself with other like minded fellows to augment their attempt at freedom. This is the key element which led me to understand and appreciate free jazz. You have to look for the intricacies in melody or rhythm between the members. When one member finds a remarkable melodic line, the others realize this, and because of their skill they are able to grasp hold of it and use it within their own attempt at freedom. And so this exchanging of ideas gives the artists a freer perspective, a freedom beyond what they could attain whilst solo.

Unfortunately there are lulls in their creativity which pale in comparison. So while the highs are remarkable, I can't say the lows are worth anything.

In light of this I now present Sleep Talking. It starts out so hauntingly with a quote from Igor Stravinsky's Rite of Spring (I think). They set up a stable enough foundation upon which the rest may follow. It doesn't get to the spasmodic type of free jazz until a couple of minutes in, but when it does, if you scoff in revulsion, I do not blame you. It has taken me many months to appreciate free jazz. Hopefully you see enough beauty in the introduction that you can find beauty throughout.

I suppose that I'll include another song as well to show the intense difference in styles between each artist. For Albert Ayler, his expression of mood lies primarily in timbre, so pay attention not just to the notes, but how the sounds are delivered.

Sleep Talking, Ornette Coleman, Sound Grammar


Spirits, Albert Ayler Trio, Spiritual Unity

Maurice Ravel

Here is my first post on what I think of as abstracted music. I hope in the future to give several posts pertaining to those few who have attained a level of music, which, in some sense lacks music; instead they have mastered techniques of musical abstraction. The very beauty of this music lies in its sense of interpretation, so although I will present my analysis, I leave it to you to tease out your own. By the way, watching these pieces played offers yet another element of curiosity, both because of the virtuosity required to play them as well as having a physical feel of the movement on the piano. They are easily accessible on youtube.

First off comes Maurice Ravel. He did not start the Impressionistic revolution in music, but so far in my journeys, I have not found someone who better embodies my interpretation of Impressionism. Starting out in a musical scene rife with a new stream of ingenuity from the French and Russian camps, Ravel set out to give his hand, but more importantly his mind, to the music. He was trained as a pianist, and studied it through schooling for several years, but he always had a peculiar interest in composing, one far above his interest in playing. As the piano is his maiden instrument, many of his compositions are for solo piano, or were originally scored for some variant of a piano sonata, only to be rearranged into an orchestral composition. He has an intimate understanding of the capacity of instruments, making use of each to dramatic effect. The pianos main forte in this sense is it adroitness in the perception of movement. With the piano he gives the same feeling of fluidity as Debussy, but it is often a much more focused and utilitarian sweep of the keyboard, tracing out large swathes of keys for the purpose of harmonic motion. The usage of volume is just as critical, allowing a swift transition from contemplation to unabated fury.

But even as Ravel composed some of my most treasured piano works, the piano cannot conjure the fitful emotional sensation of a violin, nor the atmosphere of an orchestral backing. And so changing gears, here I present Tzigane. To ensure the utmost gyspsy-esque feel, the piece starts off with instructions to stay on the lowest string. And so commences this odyssey of timbre. The unnerving vibrato, piercing harmonics and squeamishness of the chords (of which I am ever so enamored) establishes the stylization of our violin hero. Just as a good book must characterize the protagonist, Ravel too spends five minutes developing the violin before throwing it into battle with the orchestra. In the ensuing combat our hero seems to fight, suffer wounds, retreat, then rinse and repeat, trying to retain his sense of pride. With some passages I feel the character dragging its melodic feet across the ground, trying to muster strength enough for another engagement with the enemy.

Close your eyes, put on a good set of headphones, and unravel Ravel's majestic musical tapestries.

Also in due respect of the performers, they are as follows:

Jeux d'eau as played by Alaxandre Tharaud on Ravel: Œuvre pour piano

Edit: I changed the Tzigane recording. The violin-piano version is so much better. Performed by Leonidas Kavakos on violin and Peter Nagy on piano.

Jeux d'eau


Tzigane

Yann Tiersen part deux

I'm back to showcase Yann Tiersen again. Last time his solo pieces brought out the full emotional feel of his music, but I'd like to share one of my long-time favorite albums: Le Phare. Here he broadens the scope of minimalism, taking several minimal elements and transforming it all into a mélange of orchestral layering.

This is the beauty of minimalism, this is how it becomes an art. The extreme minimalism of Alvin Lucier, albeit interesting conceptually, lacks any artistic beauty (look up the album I am Sitting In A Room for a taste of what I mean). But Yann Tiersen's breed utilizes the dramatic power of layering for a fully transcendent experience. He may start off with one instrument, letting it wail away, but then out of this despondency a new atmosphere emerges, taking you through an embroiling sea of instruments. Soon enough the speakers play host to so many sounds that it can be a daunting challenge to keep track of. I used to attempt appreciating each of the instruments individually, scrutinizing their solemn characteristics. But this is truly missing the point of the music. Let the waves of complexity crash into you, then watch them recede, only to return again.

These are in order from a section of the album so I'd recommend listening to them in order.

La Noyée


Le Fromveur


L'homme Aux Bras Ballants