Henry Cow - 'Concerts' (Caroline)

I was watching a really boring hockey game last night, and during the period breaks I read the Henry Cow page on Wikipedia; afterwards, this Wikipedia reading was the most memorable part about the whole experience, if that can give you some indication of how dull the hockey game was. I really had no idea how tense and difficult it was to be in Henry Cow. If you look back at the last three posts, I'm gushing about how confident and lockstep they are in their vision, without any idea that they were not only struggling to survive professionally (well, I may have guessed that) but also challenged internally in terms of the band dynamics. Unrest's brilliant second side apparently came together because they didn't have enough composed material, and they nearly killed each other making it, but it goes to show the power of the recorded output, because to me it sounds like a gang of geniuses improvising with one hive mind. Which brings us to Concerts, in some ways the most 'complete' Henry Cow release as it's certainly the most representative of what you might find if you had been blessed enough to catch them in the mid 1970s. At this point, Dagmar Krause is a full member of the band, sticking around after the Slapp Happy merger collapsed (another fact I learned from Wikipedia - the merger wasn't so easy and the two different approaches eventually tore them apart). And once again, the free group improvisations are placed in the second half of the record (the second disc, as this is a 2xLP set) and the 'songs' are pushed to the forefront. Another Wikipedia-learned fact (sorry, I'm a broken record) is that the unwillingness to integrate vocal-based songs and instrumental/free music led to the formation of Art Bears, essentially a split. It's almost a reverse trajectory from most other bands, because back on the first album it feels like they were totally comfortable with structure and exploration being so well balanced - in a way it would take many other artists years to figure out. Side 1 of Concerts is bookended by 'Beautiful as the Moon', which goes from the structured song into the outro jam, into what is credited as 'Nirvana for Mice', though I barely recognised it. This recording is fantastic - it's easy to forget that it's a concert recording - and the band is inspired. Frith switches between guitar and piano seamlessly and you see how little they actually relied on studio work. We get the beautiful 'Ottawa Song' (as far as I know, never released elsewhere, and it's a touching, distant grass-is-always-greener yearning for another place) and a Matching Mole cover, before 'Beautiful' is reprised. As one unbroken 23 minute piece of music, it's astounding, showing Henry Cow at what they did best. Side two is also fun, though the fidelity takes a hit. Robert Wyatt shows up for Desperate Straights's 'Bad Alchemy' and then sticks around for his own 'Little Red Riding Hood Hit the Road'. This is a fairly straight cover, though given a lot of momentum from such a full band and with the thundering piano chords really making a feelgood moment, at least for those who love Rock Bottom as much as I. It's a nice way to cement Henry Cow in a scene of peers, and makes the second record all the more of a contrast. The Oslo improvisation that makes up side three is preferable to the fourth side's pastiche of two jams in Gronigen and one in Udine, but I tend to like mellow soundscape group improv more than when musicians collectively find a melodic structure. 'Oslo' starts off really murky, and while it builds (and provides space for Krause as well), it never stays in one place or forces itself into a song structure. The fourth side is build around some recognisable structures, but still twists and turns on a dime a few times.  Not unlike In Praise of Learning's 'Living in the Heart of the Beast', it starts to feel too immense to keep track of, and also, the sheer length of the record just starts to get to me by this point. The two records work well to be listened to as separate albums, separate bands even, and now that I've read more about their internal dynamics I hear a band starting to fall apart - which is totally not what I ever thought the many times before when I listened to Concerts (or parts of it). So this is surely the bias of what I read, which is why sometimes I'm happier not knowing anything about the background of music which I love. I can't believe no one has written a book about Henry Cow and the RIO scene - or maybe someone did, links in comments, please. The world could definitely use this, far more than we need another Springsteen or Dylan biography.

Pierre Henry - 'Mouvement-Rythme-Étude' (Philips)

I can't find any record of this particular edition anywhere online (spine/catalogue #6510 017) but it's well-known under the same title with a different cover. This edition may be a bit less attractive but the copy I found was in really nice shape and that's a good thing, because with Henry and similar musique concrete records, the space is important. Surface noise would get in the way of the echo, which resonates off of the gurgles and bloops that mostly populate this record. I can't imagine what it must have been like to see this dance piece being performed; I think a lot of this was recorded with a microphone in a room, because you really hear the echo, though maybe it's a tape effect. And Ninjinski was somehow part of it! As a non-visual source for psychedelic enjoyment, it's hard to get much better than records like this - eschewing any recognisable genre, including drone/noise, these are sounds assembled in a way that creates a whole new musical ontology. Which is why the title of this record is so apt - it seems bland at first, but fuck yeah it's all about movement and rhythm, and Henry is often thought of (by me, at least when I'm not thinking too deeply about him) as purely a technological innovator and not so much as a composer. And while an electronic record from the 70s with a track called 'Continuum' could be a stereotype, the sounds contained within are a far cry from cosmic synth rackeffects or freakazoid drone - its more like a strange object bouncing around several dimensions, occasionally refracting with the sound that you hear when MP3s are compressed poorly, except this was caused probably by Henry grabbing the spinning reel-to-reel loop with his hand (or some other such trick). There's an incredible amount of diversity across this record, and maybe that's the reason (along with the expense) that I've never hunted down any other Pierre Henry records: this is satisfying enough. 'Pureté' is maybe the most dazzling in terms of 'how the fuck did he do that', a constantly shifting series of mild sound-bumps, still sounding like a future we could only dream of even though it's been nearly half a century since it was recorded. The 'Adagio' pieces here refer to a traditional musical mode here, and that's another reminder of how this record reinvents music itself, the aforementioned ontology of its own. For people who are scared of the 'avant-garde', I'd recommend a dip into this record, because there's enough of an embracing of the fundamental concepts of 'music' here that it can be grokked by anyone with even a remotely open mind.

Philip Glass - 'Glassworks' (CBS)

I screwed up the chronology - this came before both soundtracks so now I either tackle it out of order, or I alter Blogspot's published-at time to make it look like I hit it before Koyaanisqatsi. The truth is, I've just put this on after listening to Powaqqatsi and it's a hell of a lot less interesting, though maybe more singular as what I tend to think of Philip Glass's music as sounding like. 'Floe' and 'Rubric' are two pieces that sound almost cliché at this point, though I'm trying to put myself in the late 70s or early 80s when this was at the forefront of "new music" (a term I loathe). Those Michael Nyman soundtracks which we'll eventually get to are really similar, with the lush, romantic strings pulsing back and forth and the movement not as minimal as you think, but more romantic. 'Facades' is downright gentle, rolling along like a baby breathing, and with even some soloing, or at least with instruments taking the lead. It's a small collection of musicians here - Jack Kripl on winds, two French Horns, and Glass himself on the synthesiser.  I'm kinda lukewarm on Glassworks as a whole; I think the recording leaves a bit to be desired, sounding like a pretty straight modern classical studio session. Maybe the LP is dirty or something, but after just feeling those two Godfrey Reggio soundtracks exploding from my speakers, full of space and breath, this feels a bit claustrophobic and dead. The music isn't particularly icy - the sonorities are not really breaking away from a romantic/classic tradition - but it just feels a bit too tight. Maybe it's in the performances - you won't typically think of Philip Glass's music as a type which can really benefit from interpretation, but the dynamic shifts here, even say when the piano pulls back and slowly crescendos again, feel a bit robotic. The opening cut is actually probably my favourite one, a solo piano prelude composed by Glass but played by Michael Riesman. It doesn't get caught in its own motion, instead allowing some tonalities to slowly develop; sure, there's repetition, but it's not monotonous. And it returns, in the 'Finale', with the other musicians accompanying it, though it doesn't breathe so much with the bed of sound under it this time. The feeling is that we've taken some journey, but I'm not really sure what we learned during it. The back cover of my copy has the ink smearing slightly up from the letters, subtle enough you would almost think it's by design except there's no way it is. The music maybe reflects this rigidity - I wish there was just a little more smearing between the notes, in a way that some other minimalists (Terry Riley, for sure) built into their compositions.

Creative Construction Company - 'Vol. II' (Muse)

This is an all-star AACM record, featuring six musical geniuses but none household names except for Braxton. I think this was recorded in 1971, though the liner notes are confusing and this release is from '76. It's the second half of a concert, the first half of which I have never heard and I believe these two records make the totality of Creative Construction Company recorded output. As you can imagine from any record that is one composition split over two sides, this is a long, freewheeling group improvisation. It's a uniquely satisfying trip, though, exploring in 35 minutes pretty much everything you'd want from an AACM record. Leroy Jenkins and Muhal Richard Abrams steal the show, if you ask me; Jenkins is always a favourite presence for me and here he flirts around with toys and harmonicas, sometimes sounding like an accordion to jab against Braxton's meanderings. Leo Smith is underrated, as is percussionist Steve McCall -- hell, all these dudes are underrated. The live recording puts a hell of an echo on the drumset - the end of side one sounds like it's recorded in a cave, and it sets a pace for the dark modal piano that opens the flip. When they get quiet, as they often do, there's a bit of AACM magic. Richard Davis gets the bow out a lot, and these are my favourite bits. One part on side two I think has Braxton on contrabassoon while Davis scrapes away. It's like a worm rolling around, stuck on a hot sidewalk after the rain; it sneaks into something furtive and suspenseful, particularly with Smith wanders in. Ornette Coleman is credited as 'Recording Supervisor', no doubt to sell some copies - I suspect he was there at the Washington Square Methodist Church, checking out the gig, and that's about his entire involvement here. This is group improvisation as it's meant to be! And also, one of those rare instances when a supergroup actually is. Seek it out.

The Ornette Coleman Trio - 'At the "Golden Circle" Stockholm volume one' (Blue Note)

This is the record on which the Izenzon/Moffett trio's reputation rests, for me (and I will spell their names correctly in this writeup, as this record's sleeve uses the correct spelling unlike Town Hall 1962, which I only just realised butchers it - great job, ESP proofreaders!). I actually have never heard volume two of this concert, and never remember to look for it, which is strange given how much I love volume one. Part of the reason is that I was surprised by this record. My father gave me this LP, from his very small collection of jazz records, representing his brief flirtation with avant-garde jazz in the late 60's which he quickly lost interest in. Actually, I think this might be have been the only record to remain, though he told me that he had both volumes of The Heliocentric Worlds of Sun Ra and swore they were upstairs (they weren't; what a tease!). Anyway, I took this somewhat reluctantly, during the peak of my interest in skronky out-jazz, figuring it couldn't be that good because the recording date was early and Blue Note wasn't a label I thought of as being representative of free jazz. So what a surprise to hear a hot-shit band disassembling the ghost of bop, propelling with energy and that agile, wispy tone of Coleman. The record starts with a spoken introduction in Swedish, after Izenzon tunes up and we hear Moffett adjusting his hi-hat - which makes me now realise that as much I love this trio, it's only these two live recordings I know by them. (I suppose I should start looking for copies of the Chappaqua Suite). Anyway, 'Faces and Places' quickly explodes, with Moffett drilling his ride cymbal throughout, propelling along Ornette's creaky explorations. Again, Izenzon is a little hard to hear, which is partially cause of this weird phasing effect caused by the ride cymbal, which I quite like - it gives the whole track a semi-metallic feel, a little bit like industrial music. It occasionally feels familiar, like quotations of Charlie Parker melodies, but then rips the rug from under itself as it goes along. 'European Echoes' begins with an almost intentionally crude pattern of toots and bleats from Coleman, his technique sounding quite amateurish as the swing slowly starts to take hold. It doesn't feel so much like an echo to me or even something European, but more like a training wheels on a bicycle that slowly rolls long, hitting some Moffett-driven potholes along the way. It sputters to a quiet bit and Izenzon gets plucky, and the whole piece feels like it's about to open up like the Art Ensemble of Chicago would approach it. Slowly the bubbly pattern comes back into place and we're at halftime, after a round of applause from a room of polite Swedes. On the flipside, 'Dee Dee' bursts out with the toe-tapping exuberance begun with 'Faces and Places', leading to a great interplay between the bass and drums when Coleman drops out. And 'Dawn' is a beautiful, slightly subdued closer, beginning with a long melodic improvisation where the bass echoes the sax melody at times, bowed in a way that resembles another horn almost. Moffett's sound is really tinny, with lots of fluttering around on the hi-hat and not much kick, probably a result of recording techniques of anything. It's a meandering tune, content to coast around peripatetically with lots of coffee breaks. It ends, essentially, in a restless, slow bass solo; Ornette returns to put a cap on it, and we're out. It's a downbeat closing, but it looks ahead to volume two.

Ornette Coleman - 'Town Hall 1962' (ESP/Base)

Though the Coleman/Cherry/Haden/Higgins 4tet is the one that made Ornette famous, this next trio with David Izenzohn and Charles Moffet is a far more remarkable group, in my opinion. Actually, I think this is one of the most "underrated" bands of all time, perhaps because Izenzohn and Moffet were less famous that Cherry/Haden (both before and after) their work with Coleman. Or maybe I just have weird taste. Anyway, Town Hall 1962 showcases this trio and also two compositions for string quartet. This is the sixth release on ESP disk which means it didn't hit vinyl until a few years after the concert happened. It's a weird split release, with 'Doughnut' and 'The Ark' showcasing the trio, 'Sadness' being the string quartet + Ornette, and 'Dedication to Poets and Writers' being the quartet alone, though composed by Coleman. This makes the whole thing feel a bit disjointed and ambitious, like Ornette was trying to stuff all of his interests into one concert/record. The trio work is bright and sassy, though the recording is very much a live concert hall feel. Both cuts are drenched in natural reverb; the sharp sonorities of the sax cut through which leave Izenzohn and Moffet a bit underrepresented, but if you listen for them it's pretty rewarding. The side-long 'Ark' moves through a variety of shiny textures and bold motifs; it gets chaotic and ellipical at points, and there's one passage where it sounds like someone whistling but I think it's just Izenzohn bowing his strings to generate harmonics. There's a lot more bowing in his approach to bass playing (as compared to late-50's Haden) which might be another reason I enjoy this band so much. It's a very open sound, and somehow busier than the quartet recordings I just listened to. Now, the string quartet pieces are both beautiful and severe. 'Sadness' is aptly named - a somber, mournful integration of saxophone and strings, which doesn't so much cry as brood. 'Dedication' is lengthy but fluid - rooted in minor keys, constantly ascending and descending - it is far more contrapuntal than other Ornette classical-influenced compositions I've heard, though I guess that would only be Skies of America, which I haven't heard in ages (though I remember fondly). 'Dedication''s busyness comes as a sharp contrast when paired with 'Sadness'; I like the more minimal approach to string pieces, but the many glissandos and runs of 'Dedication' allow it to attain a thunderous, psychedelic quality. Town Hall 1962 is never a record I hear anyone talk about, despite it's place as an early ESP side, as I guess the neoclassicism puts it slightly out of step with the thunder of New York Eye and Ear Control, Spiritual Unity, etc., but I think there's a lot of joy (and 'Sadness') to extract from it.

Don Cherry - 'Blue Lake' (Get Back)

Here's another unearthed trio recording from '71, relissued on Get Back with nice thick vinyl and unreadably Japanese gatefold liner notes. This is the Dyani/Tamiz band we heard on Orient, recorded live and recorded well. After Cherry's title track (a bamboo forest of strange swampy delights), we embark into 'Dollar and Okay's Tunes', which Cherry introduces through a friendly, conversational spoken section. It sounds like we're getting some of Dollar's tunes first, though it's all a big medley -- at least I'm assuming Dollar Brand writes the more cyclical, melodic piano-driven tunes. It definitely veers into the 'Eagle Eye' territory we heard before, except the sound is much more huge - perhaps things are recorded better, or the band is better at multi-tasking. Regardless, it's a swirling ball of sound that sounds great - unified, cohesive and luxurious. Tamiz is a great percussionist who can ride the waves, driving things forward while still containing them. The melodic structures, resembling (in some ways) Chris McGregor's Brotherhood of Breath with the repetitive, simple melodies and ebullience, are departure points. When Cherry pulls out the trumpet, suddenly we're skirted away into uncharted Oriental depths. But it shifts a bit; over the 1.5 sides of this suite, we're taken through worlds of childlike simplicity and then thrust into staggering dynamic complexities. There's a nice interaction between Dyani's bass and Cherry on vocals and I think xylophone near the end of side two, and it sputters into a bit of vocal babbling (or maybe its perfectly lucid and I just don't understand the language) -- which has soft, rubberised edges and is extremely welcoming, even though the music stops and Cherry thanks the interior designer of the venue. It's a bit of a strange ending, but all muscles are relaxed by this point. Platter two is one long piece, 'East', which begins with a bouncy groove and some sinister bass played, using deep bow strokes and occasional fiber scratches. Cherry is again on piano for most of this and by this point I've started to really feel his doubletracked vocal/ivory stylings. While 'East' at first suggests a more avant-free exploration, it doesn't take long til we've fallen back into the same song-based stuff heard on the first record, and indeed on the last one as well. But it's not a comfort zone, it's a truly passionate musical communication. The band really gets cooking around one of those chanted four-note melodies that Cherry's fond of; it sounds strangely familiar, like maybe something from Mu or Orient, but it's always evolving so much that it's hard to say. Maybe I'm feeling Cherry's eternal rhythm, or maybe it's just somnambulant melodies.

Carla Bley Band - 'European Tour 1977' (Watt)

I've listened to this one about four times in a row now, hestitating to jot down these thoughts for some reason. There's nothing controversial about European Tour 1977, yet it's the only other Carla Bley record I own which means I will be leaving her work after this record... at least until the great Liberation Music Orchestra album which I have filed under H for Haden. So I'm savouring it somewhat. I think Bley is one of the most underrated of American composers. There's a liveliness here, cause it's a strong band (Andrew Cyrille and Hugh Hopper as a rhythm section, Michael Mantler, Terry Adams, Elton Dean as lead alto, etc.) and Bley's compositions are quite exuberant. She's actually rather uncompromising, despite the (relative) accessibility of her work. When separated from Paul Haines' lyrics, the pieces take on a much more freewheeling vibe. This manages to walk the ede of jazz and fusion pretty well - Dean and Hopper certainly give it that edge (plus the electric bass in general) but side two in particular has a more jazzy feel to it. 'Drinking Music' is named probably due to it's swerving, elliptical melodies. One can imagine these guys in some Bavarian beerhall during the recording of this. European melodies are all over Mantler's trumpet lines, which scream like a drunken toreador. But if you're thinking this record is going all Eurotrash, the closer, 'Spangled Banner Minor and Other Patriotic Songs' will dispel that. This is the avant-jazz deconstruction of 'The Star-Spangled Banner', and, you know, I think it gives Hendrix's version a run for the money. This track in particular does it for me, not that I really love these melodies in their original form but because I'm a sucker for big band jazz with large, strident melody lines. Ten people is big enough for me, and no one overplays. The middle movement of this slows to a crawl before building up around a piano arpeggio and sputtering towards its climax. I have a real tendency to associate good music with left-wing politics, and particularly to look for minor key themes in conjunction with overtly American imagery (such as John Fahey's America album). It's certainly easy to think "this music mourns the decline of morality in an empire" (or something like that) and I fear that this post may opt for that easy critical eye. But I also know what it's like to be an American in Europe, struggling with the conflicts of identity politics in a strange, chunky sea. And perhaps the American members of the Carla Bley Band in '77 were feeling that too - for me, I think it would come out sounding something like this, at least if I were a large jazz ensemble. But back to the music: I don't think there are any parts of this record that are completely improvised; in fact, most of side 1 feels tightly wound (and beautifully languid at the same time). Bley's organ blasts some funky clouds, especially when over the more rock parts -- perhaps this is something she developed in the Escalator days w/McLaughlin and Bruce. If so, they were great help because she's mastered the balance, at it all feels so seamless.

Art Ensemble of Chicago - 'Live at Mandel Hall' (Delmark)

Hey everyone, the kids have come home! Back in the town where they belong, and on the label where they probably belong too. And just look what they've learned from their lengthy Euro residency! This is the 8th consecutive Art Ensemble album I've listened to in a row, and the second double live album, but it still sounds fresh. I feel my love of All Things AACM growing with every recorded moment. See, this is the first AEoC I ever heard, tho on the CD format (which I believe concatenated this one long performance together as one 75-minute track). On vinyl things can open up and breathe a bit, though there are some awkward pauses in the middle of the jams, when you have to change records in the middle of a squaking horn freakout. But it's all here, pretty much. Almost every trick and idea we've heard in the Paris recordings comes back at some point in this long improvised melee. The weird hulking vocals are there, some hypnotic traditional African percussion, and some proper jazz as well. It's all so dense, yet it feels light as air. By the time the record is over, it's like it never even happened. And even a slight warpage on the outer regions of plate #2 can't stop me from being totally amazed at music this 'of the moment' - music that has evacuated my brain already and making me struggle to describe it, just minutes after it's been experienced. So I'm going to cop out on this one, figuring I deserve it by now.