Let's Call the Calling Off Off
Sometimes you listen to music that slowly moves across your spirit. You feel it working on the deepest parts of you, perhaps changing you in subtle ways, but you don't have the foggiest clue of how to describe it to your fellow humans. All I have before me at the moment is the cat, and it's hard to tell whether or not she's paying attention.
To wit: Nothing Ever Was, Anyway: Music of Annette Peacock, by Marilyn Crispell (piano); Gary Peacock (double-bass); Paul Motian(drums); Annette Peacock (voice). I've been intrigued by Marilyn Crispell ever since reading about her in Graham Lock's portrait of Anthony Braxton, Forces in Motion. I was impressed by her story of being dashed by a broken love affair and seeking spiritual solace in the music of John Coltrane. J.C. turned her life around, inspired her toward a deep commitment to music (no one was more committed to the music than 'Trane). Crispell is an integral part of some of Braxton's most inspired music. And yes, it's quite significant that she's a woman playing uncompromising, serious music. So, with all that in mind, it's doubly fascinating to listen to Crispell interpret the music of a serious female composer.
The intimate, introspective music that Crispell's trio plays may remind some of the classic Bill Evans trios (as the Penguin Jazz Guide mentions) or a classical chamber group. The spirits of Cecil Taylor and McCoy Tyner hover around her clear, introspective, sharp piano. Lovely, spirited, thoughtful music.
The singular, uncompromising visions of Marilyn Crispell and Annette Peacock reminds me to mention one of my favorite releases of the year, so far (and another CD "C") Vic Chestnutt's latest, Ghetto Bells. Although wobbly-voiced, Georgia-accented Vic is always recognizably Vic, he usually tries something different on his recordings. In this instance, it includes the collaborative talents of Bill Frisell on guitar and Van Dyke Parks on keyboards and one string arrangement (It's funny, listening to Van Dyke's Song Cycle--recorded in 1967--the other day, I realized how much it reminded me of Vic). Delicate, simpato layers of sound are the result. And that's a good thing when it comes to the word drunk songs of Mr. Chestnutt. I'm still absorbing this recording, and loving it.
Hey man, speaking of simpatico: how about Ella and Louis on vinyl? Over the past couple of days I've spun their version of Porgy & Bess and a collection of standards, Ella & Louis--both two-record sets. I find the Porgy & Bess to be quite moving--it sneaks up on you in its fashion. The orchestrations aren't that exciting, and Louis doesn't play much trumpet, but his mature, gravelly voice lends an autumnal sadness to Gershwin's dated folk-opera. Ella is at her peak, although I have a version of her doing "I Love's You Porgy" on a CD collection (we'll get there) that beats anything on this record. Still and all, it's a wonderful recording.
About the Ella & Louis record...how can you not love the two of them paired off on "Let's Do It"; "Cheek to Cheek"; "Stars Fell on Alababma," and so on? Makes you proud to be a human American.
To wit: Nothing Ever Was, Anyway: Music of Annette Peacock, by Marilyn Crispell (piano); Gary Peacock (double-bass); Paul Motian(drums); Annette Peacock (voice). I've been intrigued by Marilyn Crispell ever since reading about her in Graham Lock's portrait of Anthony Braxton, Forces in Motion. I was impressed by her story of being dashed by a broken love affair and seeking spiritual solace in the music of John Coltrane. J.C. turned her life around, inspired her toward a deep commitment to music (no one was more committed to the music than 'Trane). Crispell is an integral part of some of Braxton's most inspired music. And yes, it's quite significant that she's a woman playing uncompromising, serious music. So, with all that in mind, it's doubly fascinating to listen to Crispell interpret the music of a serious female composer.
The intimate, introspective music that Crispell's trio plays may remind some of the classic Bill Evans trios (as the Penguin Jazz Guide mentions) or a classical chamber group. The spirits of Cecil Taylor and McCoy Tyner hover around her clear, introspective, sharp piano. Lovely, spirited, thoughtful music.
The singular, uncompromising visions of Marilyn Crispell and Annette Peacock reminds me to mention one of my favorite releases of the year, so far (and another CD "C") Vic Chestnutt's latest, Ghetto Bells. Although wobbly-voiced, Georgia-accented Vic is always recognizably Vic, he usually tries something different on his recordings. In this instance, it includes the collaborative talents of Bill Frisell on guitar and Van Dyke Parks on keyboards and one string arrangement (It's funny, listening to Van Dyke's Song Cycle--recorded in 1967--the other day, I realized how much it reminded me of Vic). Delicate, simpato layers of sound are the result. And that's a good thing when it comes to the word drunk songs of Mr. Chestnutt. I'm still absorbing this recording, and loving it.
Hey man, speaking of simpatico: how about Ella and Louis on vinyl? Over the past couple of days I've spun their version of Porgy & Bess and a collection of standards, Ella & Louis--both two-record sets. I find the Porgy & Bess to be quite moving--it sneaks up on you in its fashion. The orchestrations aren't that exciting, and Louis doesn't play much trumpet, but his mature, gravelly voice lends an autumnal sadness to Gershwin's dated folk-opera. Ella is at her peak, although I have a version of her doing "I Love's You Porgy" on a CD collection (we'll get there) that beats anything on this record. Still and all, it's a wonderful recording.
About the Ella & Louis record...how can you not love the two of them paired off on "Let's Do It"; "Cheek to Cheek"; "Stars Fell on Alababma," and so on? Makes you proud to be a human American.
posted by ken at 9:15 PM
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