Kenny Wheeler: A Sonic Alchemist in the Realm of Jazz
Introduction:
Kenny Wheeler, a name that resonates with both the luminaries of jazz and aficionados of the genre, stands as a paragon of innovation and artistry in music. Born ninety-four years ago today on January 14, 1930, in Toronto, Canada, and departing from the earthly stage on September 18, 2014, Wheeler’s life journey encapsulates a profound exploration of sound. This odyssey traverses…
If you've got the scratch (and the yen to hear some reimagined bop), this 11-disc exploration by Anthony Braxton of Charlie Parker's songbook seems like it might be a worthwhile dive. Sample the cuts on the Bandcamp page.
I like this album a lot. It has a combination of Braxton’s own ‘experimental’ compositions and standards that’s beautiful and consistently surprising (check out that music-critic prose there).
Duet (Other Minds) 2021 by Anthony Braxton and James Fei
Lurching starts and sudden halts — 2021 was the kind of year that could strip your transmission. The advent of a vaccine for COVID-19 made it look like things might go back to some sort of normal. The virus’s adroit pivot to a weaker, but more infectious variant, and humanity’s disinclination to let a moderately effective intervention do what it could, were enough to make anyone feel like saying, fuck it. But Anthony Braxton wears glasses that are tinted with a color that has no name, but is described by philosophers as “far brighter than seems possible, and better than we deserve.” Some guys in their mid-70s might have spent the fall of 2021 laying low. He spent it shuttling between gigs on a couple of continents in order to introduce a new musical system called “Loraine.”
I got to seen one such introductory concert at Skanu Mezs, a festival in Riga, Latvia. He, accordionist/singer Adam Matlock, and trumpeter Susana Santos Silva tore through intricate, converging figures at a daunting path, flipping madly through their respective scores while their instrumental voices forged through a flickering mist of electric sound. The next day, I got to sit in while Matlock taught a class at the local conservatory. A veteran of Braxton’s ZIM system, he described the task of navigating Braxton’s incredibly dense scores, with the composer joshingly admonishing musicians that if they play everything on the page, he’ll fine them $1000. The musician’s task, it seems, is to find a way through score, gleaning from it a passage that worked with what every other musician around them played. They improvised by navigating written material, rather than elaborating upon it.
The next week, Braxton played at another festival, Other Minds in San Francisco. His accompanist this time was James Fei, an associate since 1996. Each brought several saxophones — Braxton played sopranino, soprano and alto, and Fei played sopranino, alto and baritone saxophones — and a laptop operated by Braxton managed a program that generated long, glassy tones in response to what they played. They performed a new piece, Composition No. 429, which introduces the Loraine system to Braxton’s discography. One doesn’t need to know about all that novelty to be impressed; the experience of two masters executing precision maneuvers in close formation, then diverging, then pulling up close again, for nearly three quarters of an hours does that. Despite the pace, their progress through the piece is quite methodical, as they address passages of long tones, zig-zag melodies and prescribed attacks that range from pure tones to vocalized gargles. Phrases recur, signaling changes in approach. In one way, the music feels like it looks backward as well as forward, since the Braxton’s angular forms feel similar to music that he and Roscoe Mitchell each played during the 1960s and 1970s.
While the music’s form is rigorous, its execution is a blast to hear. It’s rather like witnessing a couple of barnstormers doing barrel rolls and buzzing pastures with their biplanes, then pulling up their noses to punch through a halo of electronic sound. Don’t say fuck it, this music seems to say. Instead, aim high, and see how far into the atmosphere a motivated human can fly.