Cagian interpenetrations

It's now Sunday at the end of a very long week and I am pooped.

Vancouver New Music presented a 4-day festival called Silence:John Cage. I was invited to be part of the large ensemble playing Atlas Elipticalis on the final evening. There were about 18 people in the group, a mix of the free improv crowd and UBC new music types. I'd played with many of them previously, so it was a comfortable fit for me. It was also very pleasant to be rehearsing at the Scotiabank Dance Centre, with floor-to-ceiling views from the 7th floor.

<- Giorgio Magnanensi and Marina Rosenfeld

It's always great to have a chance to work with VNM's artistic director, Giorgio Magnanensi, and he taught me an invaluable skill this time around, namely where to find the very best espresso in town and how to order it. He led the first day of rehearsals and it was fairly taxing, especially on him. Conducting this piece is akin to butoh dance, only slower.

<- Carol Sawyer, Clyde Reed and me at Rime

That night, I played a double-bill at Rime. The first set was with ion Zoo and it went very well. We are now a quartet, with Lisa Miller joining us whenever there is a piano available. Lisa is also part of the Atlas ensemble and at one point I became aware that she and I were both playing at that moment from a Cagian perspective. Afterwards, she confirmed that was the case. It was very cool to see that the Atlas experience had an immediate effect. It will be another tool in the ever-growing tool box.

The second set was with the Helsinki 8, just our third performance. The group has a lot of sonic possibilities, and gets stronger each time out. We did a set of mostly scored pieces, including my graphic score from Banff. It went well enough, though it did confirm my feelings that there is a much better piece hidden in there if I just use 10 per cent of the material. The gig was lightly attended. Blanche Norton, Rime's booker, told me that we were up against some stiff competition that night, particularly the Cage festival. That tickled me because half of the evening's performers were also in the festival. It was a fairly satisfying night on the whole, but getting in at 2:00 am just exhausted me the next day.

<- 7 of the Helsinki 8

Back bright and early at the Dance Centre, we were greeted by the guest artist for the Saturday performance. Marina Rosenfeld was described in this week's edition of Seattle's the Stranger as a "NY-based dub plate sorceress", and I thought the Georgia Strait had some flowery music writing... A quick visit to her website revealed her substantial credentials and she was indeed very stimulating to work with. She directed the group throughout the morning session, then had one-on-one discussions with each of us. She encouraged us to interpret Cage's performance notes to the word, and that definitely elevated the music as well as pushing our boundaries.

Many of the people in the ensemble remarked about how much work it took to perform the piece. Playing Cage requires a significant philosophical shift in one's approach to playing music, which in turn forces a pushing of technical boundaries. It just doesn't happen in a straight line, at least in the traditional sense.

<- excerpt from Atlas Elipticalis percussion 1 part

Atlas Elipticalis was composed by Cage in 1961. The visual device for creating the score was achieved by overlaying star charts and the i ching on top of manuscript. All notes were to be played as quietly as possible, with as short a duration as possible unless otherwise indicated. There was to be no repeated notes, no "extraordinary" tone, no intention of melody and an avoidance of ego in the production of the sounds. Cage encouraged the idea of interpenetrations, wherein an instrumentalist produces two different sounds at the same time, say a bassist bowing with one hand and tapping the top with the other. Wind and string players were to play microtonally. Not all notes on the score had to be played. The list went on...

In short, rather than just a random production of sounds, musicians had to really think out how to play each and every note.

I had three sections where I had to play 70 notes or more in the space of 15 seconds. In other sections, maybe 9 notes in 2 minutes. And I decided to play just percussion. I had put together my rack with items that were often loud, had very long sustain and extraordinary sound quality, just the opposite of what Cage specified. So I had my work cut out for me. I had to find different ways of playing the rack, and ended up using bamboo skewers most of the time instead of sticks or mallets. Marina also wanted more "skins and wood", so I pulled whatever I could find out of my closet. It was quite a mixed collection, which I dubbed the "Randy Raine-Reusch Starter Kit".

In the end, the concert went very well in my opinion. Atlas Elipticalis was broken up into three sections. Other Cage compositions overlapped the various sections, often playing concurrently, yet they were distinctly different while occupying the same space. The audience and performers were intermingled and the audience was encouraged to move around to hear different sonic combinations. The program ended with two versions of the final composition John Cage wrote, first in the original piano/violin duet form, then with Marina doing a very musical and compelling version on her turntables, something Cage would have approved of, I'm sure.

<- RR-R Starter Kit

As I was listening to those pieces seated behind my percussion, I had an interesting experience. The performance hall was dark except for the starkly lit soloists. I was looking through my rack in Marina's direction, but she was obscured by one of my bronze sound plates. The way the lighting was, it appeared that the plate was a black square, not between the two of us, but rather in the black curtains on the opposite side of the recital hall. Logically, I knew where the plate was hanging, but the more I looked, the more it appeared to be a black hole, square in shape, on the other side of the room. This black hole was absorbing the images of everything directly in front of it, cutting off human forms at the neck or wherever. This effect lasted for what seemed several minutes as long as I was caught up in the music. When it came to a point that was less engrossing, the effect ended.

I understand that Cage enjoyed his shrooms, so he probably would have approved of this as well.

Humbility

I think it's important for a musician to stretch his/her musical boundaries. Taken in the proper context, all experiences be they good or bad can enrich one's musical ability.

To that end, I've been doing some new things lately.

One of them was leading an improvisation workshop at the Western Front for the New Orchestra Workshop. I've participated in the workshops for years, now with thanks to Coat Cooke, it was time to teach one. I immediately broke my own prime directive for what I think constitutes a good workshop. I talked and encouraged discussion for a greater period of time than we played. The participants were are fairly experienced, and so I decided to spend time on a number of more advanced improv concepts and to share a number of the more important points that I had distilled over my years of taking these workshops. Since then, the feedback from most in attendance was positive, but next time I will work to severely limit the number of concepts that I present. As any regular reader of this blog can attest, I can go on for a bit.

Another one has been to start taking music classes at Ache Brasil. As a saxophone player, singing while playing is a great conceptual technique, but doesn't happen in the standard sense. So it is a very new thing for me to sing, in Portuguese no less, and play percussion at the same time. At this point in time, I can't really do it for any length of time without screwing up.

I can't help but think that this is one of the most ancient forms of music making, yet a considerable challenge for me. Capoeira music is very deeply connected to African music and operates on the same primal level. It's a relatively simple combination of percussion instruments and song that quickly becomes fairly complex, subtle and powerful.

No problem for a university educated jazz guy, like, we're supposed to be able to play everything, right? Riiiight...

I have no pretensions about where I fit in the local music scene, and consider myself relatively low on the food chain. Conversely, I have done a few things in my life at what I consider to be a pretty high musical level. Yet it really counts for very little when I walk in the door at Ache Brasil. I'm just another novice pandeiro player, and I'm quite happy to have it that way.

The next challenge this coming week is my participation in Vancouver New Music's presentation of John Cage's Atlas Ellipticalis. The performance is next Saturday night at the Scotiabank Dance Centre, part of a John Cage series being staged next week. It's a great privelege to be invited to play a composition by one of the icons of 20th century music. The score is a going to take a lot of work just to understand. We have 3 days of workshopping it into shape, led by Giorgio Magnanensi and visiting artist Marina Rosenfeld. Just to add to the degree of difficulty, I'll play percussion, maybe have one sax or clarinet ready if the music leads in that direction.

Here again, I expect to have my work cut out for me.

Finally, this coming Wednesday night at Rime, I will perform one set with ion Zoo, then a second set with Helsinki 8, where I'll conduct one of the pieces I wrote this year in Banff.

That's enough on my plate for now.

Gratitude

This being Thanksgiving Day weekend and all, during a long drive out to a rehearsal, I had time to reflect on what I have been grateful for in my musical life.

It struck me that I may not be unique in being thankful to a long line of people who helped me develop what has become a life-long journey. I assume most musicians whose careers extend beyond their bedrooms don't develop in a vacuum.

If long acceptance speeches during awards shows or lengthy acknowledgements on an album cover are not your cup of tea, then you might as well skip this post. I figure I might as well do it here, where I control the horizontal and the vertical.

First and foremost, my friend and partner Clara has been my strongest supporter for almost 30 years. During all those years, she has had near unfailing support for my musical misadventures, often giving me wise advice and the occasional well-earned ass-kick.

My very first band teacher, Don MacKay, started me off on recorder in Grade 6 . I was considerably less thankful when I joined his marching band and he gave me a beat-up euphonium to play. My first-ever public performance was a Santa Claus parade and the mouthpiece froze to my lips. I switched to tenor sax the next day.

Band teachers: grades 7-9 Ken Elloway, grades 9-12 Jack Armitage - very patient and dedicated men, to say the least.

My music teacher in junior high school was Sister Margaret. A key day for me was late in my Grade 9 year when she asked the class who was going to continue on taking music in high school. Nobody put up their hand and she was so disappointed that she started to cry. I knew right away that she felt like she had failed in instilling her love of music to her students. I felt guilty, as I hadn't disliked her music class, so I signed up, no big deal, if it helped make her feel a bit better.

My high school music teacher and choir director turned out to be a significant influence on my life. Jim Farmer loved to show the interrelation of all of the arts through history, and was the person who introduced me to the likes of Stravinsky, Stockhausen, Penderecki and Cage. He taught us many useful skills like how to cheat on university listening tests, by memorizing the labels of the records. He staged big musical productions every year, sometimes too ambitious. He coped with them by sneaking a drink or two or three. He told us how being a music teacher meant a constant struggle with school administration for funding and recognition - how times haven't changed. The way he managed to be successful was be having a top-notch choir which always won its class in the music festivals, and to put on the crowd-pleasing big productions. He was only a few years older than us, and had plenty of human failings, but he was one of those very few great teachers that had a profound effect on hundreds of his students. That choir was my life in high school.

Jim's former university roommate was also a music teacher in the city school system. Brian May recommended me as his replacement in what became my first pro band. I had a union card before I graduated from high school.

In university, I am very thankful to have had a couple of great professors. Dr. Alfred Fischer was my composition prof. He was a student of George Crumb and pianist David Burge. Al really opened my eyes to the avante-garde. Marie McCarthy was a fabulous voice teacher and choral director. The rest of the faculty taught me many of the skills I was later to use in business - petty back-biting, bitter politics and general discord. The less I say about my sax prof and other voice prof, the better. This post is about gratitude.

I had also formed another band with some high school friends that was probably the only bona fide prog rock band in the Maritimes in the 70's. We kept at it for 5 years and gained some measure of success, and a fair amount of debt. Kurt Haughn, Kevin Atwood, Bob Atkinson, Bill Elliott and later Glenn Wright, Terry-David Désprés and Mike Connor were all a key part of my life. We were into that band as only a bunch of young fanatics could be. It broke my spirit when that band split up and I put my horns away for quite a few years.

I moved to Vancouver with Clara and forgot about music for many years. When I saw Urban Sax do their thing at Expo 86, I knew I had to play again.

Dave Quarin led the community big band that I stayed with for 16 years. He passed the band on to late great Ray Sikora, who inspired us to the end. Once Ray's health was no longer sufficient to lead the band, on the recommendation of bandmate Lorae Farrell, I called Robin Shier to see if he would take over, and he continues to lead it to this day. I learned volumes from these leaders, and the many great subs who directed over the years, as well as the workshops they organized with the likes of Jeff Hamilton and Bobby Shew.

Music stores have been very helpful for me and a couple have certainly seen a fair amount of my income, disposable or otherwise. Gerry Prussin has been there for me for years, and also now Sandro and the guys at Mussullo Music. Bob Syme has been my number one repair guy forever.

Bob introduced me to Stan Karp over ten years ago. I was looking for a new sax teacher and Bob told me there was only one guy to see and he would rock my world. Bob was right. Stan has been a great friend and teacher and has been the single reason why my playing has gotten to where it is today. I hope I'm still studying with him when I'm 100.

The other guys I've taken some lessons with: Dave Quarin, Graham Ord, Mike Allen, Cam Ryga.

I also owe a huge debt of gratitude to three of the stalwarts of the new music scene in Vancouver - Kate Hammett-Vaughan, Coat Cooke and Ron Samworth. They have been movers and shakers in this city for as long as I've lived here. I've known Kate since our days together at Acadia and she occupies a special place in my heart. Even after all of these years, she continue to knock me out with each new performance. Ron continues to create amazing and inspiring music in a variety of situations. His words of support to me are valued. I have done what I can to support the New Orchestra Workshop's endeavours, especially when Coat has had a heavier workload in recent years. In return, Coat's support of my musical ventures has been invaluable.

I can't begin to list what I've learned from them personally, and also from the things that they have been involved with, especially the New Orchestra Workshop and the NOW Orchestra. I took my first improv workshop with them 12 years ago. Last week, I taught my first one for them. The list of facilitators over the years (myself excluded) reads like a who's who of the world improvising scene. I got something from every session I attended. The individual members of the NOW Orchestra have all been inspiring to me.

Another one of those giant debts of gratitude is to Hugh Fraser and Lorae Farrell. The first call to Banff five years ago was one of the major turning points in my musical life. The guest artists - Maria Schneider, Kenny Wheeler and Chucho Valdes in particular - what can I say. Words fail. The friendships and musical relationships that have come out of that experience - Bill Mahar, Michelle Grégoire, Paul Rucker and Marianne Trudel to name but a few.

All of my bandmates past and present. Even the dinks (rare as they may have been) - I am a better person for playing with all of them. In particular, the people in my two main current groups: Wanda Nowicki, Chris Potter, Mark Bender, Carol Sawyer and Clyde Reed. I am blessed.

In previous posts, I've given shout-outs to guys who present music in Vancouver: Cory Weeds, Cem Zafir, Tom Cone and David Pay, guys like Raymon Torchinsky, also at The Cellar. Ken Pickering, Robert Kerr (now at VANOC), Carl Chinn and everyone at Coastal Jazz and Blues. People like Stefan Smulovitz and Jared Burrows who organize annual events for the improvising community. Julie Smith, for organizing the Vancouver Creative Music Institute with an illustrious faculty - George Lewis, Evan Parker, Marilyn Crispell, Mwata Bowden, Nicole Mitchell, François Houle, John Korsrud, Giorgio Magnanensi, et all.

Then there's Brian Nation at vancouverjazz.com. The contributors to the jazz forum and blogs, trolls excepted.

So many good friends that I've made. I've written about many of them in this blog, many more still unnamed. My community in high school was the musicians, and they continue to be so today.

Yeah, I'm bloody thankful. Time to eat turkey.