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Entries associated with the tag "Peter Brötzmann":December 4th - 7:01 p.m.
The 10th anniversary festivities for the Peter Brötzmann Chicago Tentet continue this week with performances by a number of killer spin-off projects. On Wednesday at the Hideout the superb reeds trio called Sonore (pictured) reconvenes. Brötzmann, Ken Vandermark, and Mats Gustafsson formed this configuration about four years ago and recorded an excellent album called No One Ever Works Alone (Okka Disk, 2004) that challenged the status quo of the all-saxophone group, keeping things fully improvised but generating pieces marked by the kind of compositional logic that arises when musicians share sensibilities and thoroughly understand one another’s art. Both on the record and at a stunning live gig back in 2004 at the Empty Bottle, the trio ran a sort of musical relay race, using spontaneous riffs as launch pads that the other players either embraced or rejected. But rather than the hot-potato back-and-forth, these guys focus on sustained development and intense interaction. Two nights later at the same venue Brötzmann closes out the celebration by playing in two powerful groupings that have both recently been documented on knockout albums. The Fat Is Gone (Smalltown Superjazz) was recorded live last summer at Norway’s Molde Jazz Festival, and the music delivers the kind of raw, explosive energy you’d expect from Brötzmann, Gustafsson, and drummer Paal Nilssen-Love, although there are some exceedingly pretty, restrained passages amid the din. Again, the rapport of the musicians is evident in spades—a sort of telepathic intuition you don't normally expect behind sounds this urgent and visceral. Finally, Guts (also on Okka Disk) captures a terrific 2005 gig by Brötzmann, multi-instrumentalist Joe McPhee, bassist Kent Kessler, and drummer Michael Zerang at the Bottle. The longtime cohorts of the rhythm section were seriously locked in during the performance, laying down deep, bluesy, highly elastic grooves or scraping out refracted harmonies streaked with grainy textures, providing excellent foundations for the aggressive yet often lyrically tender horn play on top. Today’s playlist: November 20th - 6:04 p.m.
It looks like M.I.A. is spending Thanksgiving in Chicago this week--not that it will mean much to a Sri Lankan who's spent most of her life in England. She plays tomorrow at House of Blues and she has a sold-out gig Friday at the Vic. When a couple of her collaborators spun here a few months ago, I waxed enthusiastic over her second album, Kala (Interscope), and many listens later my level of enjoyment hasn’t waned. It seems like a lock to end up in my top ten albums of the year. Her musical culture clashes only seem to take on greater resonance, both in the metaphoric sense and the beat-colliding one. I wish I were going to be in town to see if her stage persona has gotten any closer to the charisma and confidence she exudes on record. Today’s playlist: October 24th - 5:41 p.m.
John Corbett, co-owner of the Wicker Park art gallery Corbett vs. Dempsey, has a substantial history with the German free jazz saxophonist Peter Brötzmann. Back when Corbett was still booking jazz at the Empty Bottle he brought the horn player to town often, allowing Brötzmann to establish the kind of fervent following that’s exceedingly rare in his field, especially for someone so uncompromising. Corbett label has reissued many of the Brötzmann's key recordings for FMP Records through his Unheard Music Series imprint, and he’s also writing a Brötzmann biography. Brötzmann also happens to be a fine visual artist. Back in March of 2003, before he opened his gallery, Corbett organized an exhibition of Brötzmann's early work at 1926 Exhibition Studies Space, a small gallery owned by the School of the Art Institute, where Corbett teaches. Recently he’s been busy curating another Brötzmann show, this one devoted to new work. The show features “large format works on canvas and small scale assemblages, as well as an assortment of older pieces.” Corbett vs. Dempsey has also produced a 96-page catalog, 200 copies of which include a CD of previously unreleased music by Brötzmann and bassist Harry Miller. The exhibit opens on Friday, October 26, with a reception from 5-9 PM; it runs through November 30. Then on Saturday at 2 PM Brötzmann will give a brief solo concert on alto saxophone and clarinet; it's free. Today’s playlist: August 20th - 2:27 p.m.
Last night I dropped the new reissue of Machine Gun by the Peter Brötzmann Octet into my CD player. It had been a few years since I listened to the 1968 album, an indisputable milestone in the history of both free jazz and European jazz, but it still hit me with the same abrasive, ear-cleaning force as the first time I heard it. The German label FMP released the album with some alternate takes on CD back in the early 90s, but it failed to distinguish which were the masters and which weren’t. The new edition, dubbed The Complete Machine Gun Sessions and released on John Corbett’s Unheard Music Series label, not only makes that distinction clear, but ups the ante by adding a live version of the title track recorded two months earlier at the Frankfurt Jazz Festival, with additional saxophonist Gerd Dudek. (This performance was previously issued on the UMS release by Brötzmann called Fuck De Boere). The packaging also includes some great photos taken during the time and new essays by Corbett and Brötzmann. The personnel alone would guarantee this album’s importance—Brötzmann was joined by fellow reedists Evan Parker and Willem Breuker, drummers Han Bennink and Sven-Ake Johansson, bassists Peter Kowald and Buschi Niebergall, and pianist Fred Van Hove, some of the most towering figures in European jazz captured early in their careers. But the music itself is downright titanic, one of the most ferocious and simultaneously joyful examples of spontaneous expression ever recorded, pushing the screaming saxophone style of Albert Ayler well past the brink of volatility. Although “Machine Gun” was the nickname Don Cherry gave to Brötzmann, it also describes the staccato sax outburst that opens the piece, giving way to a scalding chaos, one brilliantly undercut by some post-R & B sax riffing here and there that was inspired by Lionel Hampton’s classic “Flying Home.” The other two pieces are just as relentless, channeling the same primal energy while mixing in discrete bits like the almost kwela-like section that intercedes Van Hove’s “Responsibility/For Jan Van De Ven.” There have been loads of manic free jazz records made over the last four decades, but nothing has yet topped Machine Gun. Tomorrow is the reissue's official release date. One more thing: I apologize for being AWOL last week—a burst hot water heater is my main excuse—but I’m back in full effect. Today’s playlist: Louie Ramirez, Ali Baba (Fania) |
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