Downstairs Monday nights

The Monday night series at The Cellar continues to get better and better. I've already mentioned the opening night with the Gord Grdina Trio.


Next up was the Aeroplane Trio. JP Carter is one of my favourite trumpeters in town, the antithesis of a stereotypical swaggering big band lead player. I've often seen him play with very introspective extended technique, and with Aeroplane, he has a chance to demonstrate a greater breadth of his range, not to mention a bone-dry wit. Russell Sholberg simply gets better every time I hear him, which has been fairly frequently lately. And Skye Brooks is totally solid on drums, unpredictable and supportive.



I've taken a fair number of pictures of these guys in the past, but I am particularly partial to this one of Skye.



Last week was the evening for Stefan Smulovitz and Viviane Houle. They have been working together as a duo for a few years now and it definitely shows. Viviane has always been a captivating singer, continuously refining her unique and very personal approach. They premiered an improvised song cycle, and I was suprised to find out after the fact that she had not let Stefan as much as look at the text, let alone rehearse it, until just before they performed. Could have fooled me, and it did, as I was sure that they had worked out a few sections in advance. That's just a real indication as to how close there musical and personal connections are, and it's certainly how free improvisation can be really elevated. Both of them have the confidence and faith in each other to leap into the abyss and know that the other will be there to support them.


I have to mention that I was really impressed with Stefan's continued evolution with his Kenaxis software, which he developed for laptop. In the wrong hands, and usually at the wrong volume, a laptop can totally usurp a musical performance with a barrage of samples and cliched processing - if I hear one more piece end with a sampled loop being speeded up and shifted higher in pitch, I will puke. Not to fear with Stefan at the controls though - he was always the height of sensitivity and musicality. I would go as far to say that he proved that in the proper hands, a Kenaxis-driven laptop in no longer technology, it is a musical instrument.


Next up, the inimitable Lisa Miller with her group edgeeffect. There is a greater compositional component than with our collaboration in ion Zoo. With Ron Samorth, Jeremy Berkman and Jesse Zubot on the bandstand, more great music can be expected this coming Monday evening.


For more info visit the NOW website.

Gongs and wayward girls: heavy metal redux

As exciting as the local improv scene is looking, our neighbours, er, neighbors to the south have us trumped in one department. They have a series that is being presented in one hell of a venue. Well, maybe hell is not the best choice of words, but then again...

Last night I played at Seattle's Good Shepherd Centre, er, Center in the Wallingford area. It's located in a former Catholic school for wayward young women, with the performance space located in what was previously the chapel. There are stained glass windows on two sides, a 28-foot high ceiling, and with a beautiful hardwood floor. Performance features include a slightly raised stage area, white backdrop, theatrical lighting and lots of pro PA equipment. And a 9' concert grand piano. And a beautiful natural sound in the room.

Since last January, 10 nights a month, Nonsequitur has been presenting new and improvised music. Seattle area musicians have embraced this space and it is now fully booked 9 months in advance.

I was invited down to play with Dean Moore, reprising the evening we did in May at 1067. Joining us was Sha'ari Garfinkle, also of Seattle, who also has an extensive and very impressive collection of gongs. In all, we had over 30 true gongs, plus dozens of bells, chimes and cymbals. Paiste should have been sponsoring the evening - we had so much of their gear. I don't have any of their gongs, all of mine being Chinese styles from Wuhan, but I do have over a dozen of Paiste's special percussive cymbals, ranging from 13" down to 4" in diameter. Dean and Sha'ari own Paiste gongs up to 40" across. Yet for all of the dozens of instruments onstage, the three of us only had one instrument in common, a 6" Paiste bell chime, and even those were pitched differently. In other words, there was a tremendous range of different metal percussion, set up in a large U shape around the audience.

We used this spatial arrangement to our advantage, the three of us moving around all of the racks, constantly shifting the sound around the audience. Many later reported having profound listening experiences. The great acoustics of the room permitted us to really explore the possibilities of the collected instruments.

We played two improvised sets, both with preplanned arcs. In the first, we were more frenetic and we introduced a few other instruments to give variety to the timbres. After about 20 minutes, I played an extended soprano sax solo, with Dean on a hand drum, then Sha'ari replaced me on a Native American flute. The other non-metal instrument I had was my pandeiro, but even with that, I played it in non-traditional ways, using rosined bamboo skewers to produce cuica-like moans out of it.

In the second set, Sha'ari drew upon her profession as a music therapist, guiding the audience through meditation and healing sound. Dean and I are not practitioners of this aspect of gong music, but were happy enough to participate in the process. Some of the audience were definitely into this sort of therapy and were quite moved by the music we created. Or maybe it was just the gut-shaking rumbles from Dean's massive Balinese gong.

Previous to the gig, we discussed some strategies for improvising, just making sure our varied approaches to the instruments would be OK with each other. And we were also OK with allowing each other to respectfully play each other's instruments. These gong guys can become pretty protective of their stuff.

Sha'ari is into the healing sound and Dean approaches it as a drummer who respects the tradition of gong music, both of them tending towards more beautiful consonant sounds, building up washes of overtones starting from the deep fundamental tones of the big gongs. I come at it as the free improviser, sometimes supporting the musical choices, sometimes subverting things. That may mean that I would choose to make sounds that were more "ugly", more random, more frenetic, yet still striving to be musical choices. Often that meant I would do these sorts of things at a considerably lesser volume than the other two.

The result was an interpenetration of sounds, exactly the sort of thing we did in the Vancouver New Music John Cage show last year. I was making deliberate choices to create a richer and more complex group sound. I felt at times that the other two players would pick up on what I did, and then they would change their playing accordingly. Examples of that would be simply rubbing my palm in circles on the pandeiro, or lightly tinkling my pin chimes, while Dean and Sha'ari were creating big washes on the gongs.

Given the great acoustics of the room, the audience was hearing many of these things, and afterward, I got several comments about how my playing in this manner added depth to that sound.

And yes I will gladly admit to whacking the bejeezus out some of my stuff, if that's what was called for in the moment. I now have a very large thin china type cymbal that has a ton of different dark trashy sounds in it, whether bowing, scraping or striking it, the harder the better. And it was very cool to play some of these very large or hard-to-get instruments that we all had collected.

In the end, it was a very satisfying show for audience and musicians alike. Definitely, there will be more performances for this group.

Before going back to Dean's for the night, I went over to check out my old pal Paul Rucker, who was part of an installation art show, not too far away, as the crow flies, from our gig. I, on the other hand, got lost and got stuck on Hwy.99 all the way downtown to Safeco Field, before I could turn around. He was at a place called the Bridge Motel, in Fremont, just off Aurora. It's Seattle's answer to our Downtown East Side. The Bridge Motel is about to be demolished, and for one night, artists and scenesters took over every room of the building. Paul had set a laser-controlled video piece playing in his assigned room, the same room where on the previous day, a meth addict had given birth. Maybe she could have benefited from the Good Shepherd Centre, had it still been in its original incarnation. I looked down - there was a crack pipe on the rug. Upstairs, another artist had ripped the ceiling and roof off of his room, in order to have some sort of campfire singalong, symbolic of something that escaped me.

I never saw it in full swing, getting there just at midnight as the organizers were shutting it down at the scheduled time. Good thing, as it was starting to get out of hand with hundreds of people swarming over every inch of the motel.

I was just able to help Paul load out, and we made plans to play together again in the near future. He's currently commissioned to do 50 solo cello performances during the course of year, all improvised, often playing at schools and other places where the concept of free improvisation is fairly unknown. He's being really well received, which doesn't surprise me at all, knowing his musical talents and generosity of spirit. We attended Banff together, and it was the definitive turning point in his musical life.

I drove home today, worrying (needlessly, as it turned out) about getting hassled by Customs about bringing my instruments back over the line. Yet again, I was bridling at the stupidity of governments, particularly the current US Administration, for putting up such hostile barriers to the growth of ties between the artistic communities in Seattle and Vancouver. There is no rational reason why there should not be free movement of artists between these cities, reaching all the way down to Portland, and beyond. This whole area, Cascadia or whatever you want to call it (I like "Canadian Southwest"), has the potential for being one of the great world centres for creative music, yet is stifled in the name of Freedom. Go figure.

It ain't over yet

People have been bemoaning the lack of a real summer here in Vancouver. Since I have no short term memory, once we get a half decent day, the summer seems pretty good to me. I am not one of those fatalists (though I am married to one) who sees one tree where the leaves have turned colour and immediately declares that summer is over. No, a cool evening breeze is just that, not the onset of winter. For me, summer ends sometime in October, then Gore-Tex season starts.


I made a deliberate choice a couple of months ago not to take on any new musical projects, and as a direct result, the last couple of months have been relatively light gigwise. Therefore I haven't been inclined to blog anything.


What I have been doing is practising - what a concept. It's the first casuality when I get busy with gigs because I usually practise in the evening. So it's been really great to just live with some things for a while. I've been working out of a couple of classical books (de la Sonorité -Moyse and 48 Famous Studies - Ferling) along with good ol' Top Tones, as well as a couple of Brazilian choros, then a bit of Bird and some blues to finish. This sort of approach is great for building tone and gaining greater control overall. I wish I had the time to get really deep into practice. I could get lost in the minutiae. Every nuance could be cut in half yet again. Time, time, time...


The most exciting musical moment of the summer was somewhat unexpected. I was accompanying my daughter on her summer camping trip in the Okanagan with Aché Brasil. It was the one hot weekend of July - high 30's for sure. Late one afternoon when most people were at the lake, I heard some snare drumming coming from across the campsite. Mestre Eclison de Jesus was showing a student some samba rhythms. I went over to listen and they invited me to join in, and I did as best I could on my pandeiro. More people joined in and the rhythms started getting deeper, and the music seemed to draw the people back from the lake. Then somebody started dancing and the samba kicked into high gear and everyone got into it. It felt like we were part of a street parade in Brasil.


After a while, I just couldn't keep up on pandeiro as my hands tired out. I switched over to a large double shaker, figuring I might be able to last longer, and the rhythms are the simplest. But after another hour, my arm felt like it was going to fall off. I couldn't come close to matching the endurance of these capoeiristas. I need to find some musical Viagra.


It went on with dozens of people dancing samba in the heat of the early evening and didn't let up until about 10:30 when the camp warden told us it was time to wind it down. They switched over to playing capoeira angola very quietly, with capoeira movements that were very slow and low to the ground, sort of the butoh version of this normally frenetic and athletic martial art, all illuminated by a single lantern on the floor. Capoeira angola is more about control and finesse, and how these people had the considerable strength needed to do it after all that dancing beats me.


With the heat, the dancing, the capoeira, the colour and the relentless rhythms, it was like a miniature trip to Brasil. And it had all been unplanned, growing organically from a few snare drum figures several hours earlier. It was totally cool to be part of it.


Too bad I didn't have my camera with me that evening - I probably couldn't have lifted it by the end of the samba. Here's a shot of the capoeira roda earlier in the day.


After that camp was done, we travelled down to Naramata to visit with some friends. I tried to talk Clara into stopping in at more that a few wineries, just for a taste, you know, but she has this thing about not getting pie-eyed at tasting rooms with kids in the car. Go figure. Oh, well, we will just have to score some gigs at some of those wineries...

Feeling more festive

Until last Saturday, I saw very little of the jazz festival. Earlier in the week, most of what I did catch didn't turn my crank all that much, regardless of the reputation of the performers. And there were qualifications on the things I did like. As a ferinstance, family commitments kept me from staying for the whole of the very engaging Chadbourne/Lovens show at the Front.

I enjoyed Kate Hammett-Vaughan's gig at O'Doul's, but even that was marred by a mediocre sound system. There was some lovely vocal duetting between Kate and bassist Adam Thomas that deserved to be better heard.

What's the deal with that? One would think that at least during the festival, they could put in a decent PA. There was a nice piano upgrade courtesy of Mike Allen, but when you can't clearly hear the singing, even if you're sitting 10 feet away, it's a disappointment. And O'Doul's is always too noisy. The only way to counter the constant chatter is to have a clean, clear sound system. Is that asking for too much?

Coming off the roller coaster ride that was Friday evening, I finally had some time to catch some music at the Roundhouse, after I took Marianne down to Tsawwassen to catch the ferry to Victoria for her gig that night.

I walked into Festival Hall not knowing who was on. After hearing just a few notes, I knew one of the tenor players had to be George Garzone. Andrew Rathburn is a very talented sax player and has to be commended for the confidence in bringing his mentor along on tour. Garzone must live on another planet - his total conceptual approach to the horn was incredible. More than manual dexterity, this was the whole package. Between these two guys, there was some seriously heavy playing.

Zipping over to Vinny Golia's workshop, I was very stimulated by listening to his approach to playing multiple winds.

I had to race over to 1067 to pack up and load out the rest of my gear. Still shaken about the previous evening's wild swings, I had elected to split the loading out over two days. Then, it was back to catch Garzone and Rathburn's workshop. The banter between these two was entertaining, and there was some very significant information being served up about how to play the saxophone, some very advanced concepts. Garzone figured it was something anyone could pick up as long as they practised their asses off the the next 10-15 years.

From there Bruce Freedman and I went over to the Cultch to see the ICP Orchestra. After one set, the consensus was that it was not rocking our worlds. I wanted to hear more of Tobias Delius, which I could do on Sunday. Garzone had blown away the both of us for the day.

I was back at Festival Hall the next afternoon in time to catch Marianne's set. It sounded great and was well received, and all of her cds quickly sold out at the merch table. I was really happy to reconnect with my Banff buddy from last year, Jon Stewart. He sounded great with Marianne. Kelby McNayr was fantastic on drums, with a light, inventive touch. It could only have been better had it been in a slightly more intimate venue.

As that was wrapping up, Lisa Miller was garnering attention outside, hobbling around on crutches. Fortunately she had been wearing some pretty skookum boots when the car ran her down. Turned on its side, the boot sole had actually supported most of the weight of the car. So instead of a broken foot, or even a sprain, there was damage to her foot, but nowhere as bad as it could have been. It was her pedalling foot, but she thought she could make it through her gig well enough later that evening.

After doing a few errands, I had a chance to hang with Vinny over at Clyde's place before his gig that evening. It was very cool and conversation turned to the late Bill Green, who was the master multi-woodwind player in LA, and mentor to Stan Karp. All of the LA guys seem to have a Bill Green story.

I had to make a difficult choice about what show to catch. Lisa was at The Roundhouse, Rathburn/Garzone at Iroworks, or Vinny at The Cultch. I drove him over for the sound check and that sealed the deal. We heard the Indigo Trio do their sound check and they were killing. I had the pleasure of working with Nicole Mitchell at VCMI a few years back, and this time she was fronting a killer group, with Harrison Bankhead on bass and Hamid Drake drumming. So the Cultch it was, and I planned to finish off the night at Performance Works with the Kate Hammett-Vaughan Quintet. Perfect.

Vinny's set was most interesting. I've always been a fan of his playing, but the real suprise was bassist Ken Filiano playing on a bass borrowed from Clyde. This guy was absolutely rivetting, so musical, such chops, always surprising and supporting. In my opinion, this was not the case for the drummer. Of the people I spoke with afterwards, half loved him and half hated him. I thought his playing lacked transparency. It was so dense that it didn't let any of the rest of the music come through. I felt it forced Vinny to continually match that density, and Bobby Bradford just seemed to pull back from it all.

In stark contrast, Hamid Drake was absolutely awesome, living up to his reputation. Despite being a constant whirlwind over the kit with unbounded power, he was able to play in such a way that there was lots of room for the bass and flute. These three gave us a full-on dose of Chicago-style energy, grabbing the crowd by the throat and not letting up for the whole evening. Nicole was fantastic, getting more from her flutes than anyone I have ever heard. The bass was absolutely relentless, despite some sound glitches early on. These guys kicked ass, kicking long and hard. They did not let go until after 11:00pm, perhaps a bit long, but a most satisfying pummelling nonetheless. After I said my goodbyes to Nicole, it was too late to get over to Granville Island, much to my disappointment.

Plan B was to go to Ironworks to see Tobias Delius, and he was a treat. His tenor sound can fill a room, even when he's playing quietly. The band was crazy and great, perfect for the wrapup of the festival. Marianne worked the room like a fiend. On her crutches, Lisa was testament to the fact that no mere carload of yahoos was going to spoil her evening. I managed to drag Marianne away sometime after 2:00.

The next morning we had a brunch for everyone in the house plus Marianne's band, just before they split for Montreal. As a birthday present for me, I could not have asked for anything more than to have everyone around the table.

The festival was done for another year, and though I may have seen less acts than in previous years, I managed to catch the right ones.

extremes at 1067

Marianne Trudel arrived at the airport Friday afternoon and the whirlwind began. In the midst of a national tour with her group, she has a talent at packing so much into her day that I can't keep up with her for too long. After a short rest at my place, she was off to the festival, catching up with people she hadn't seen in a year.

My main concern was preparing for the evening's ion Zoo gig at 1067. As per usual, I opted to go heavy rather than light. In addition to tenor sax and bass clarinet, I had to bring along our full sound system plus my full percussion setup. Despite arriving extra early at the venue, it took a couple of hours to clean up the stage area and then set everything up.

One thing that I was very sure of was that even though they had never previously performed together, Marianne and Lisa would be a great pairing. I have joked that 1067's pianos are in such bad shap that they are pre-prepared. Lisa and Marianne took quite a lot of time deciding how to alter each piano, then insert various objects between and on top of the strings, different ways of striking the strings, and talking strategies as to how to approach the modded pianos.

We had decided to play one extended set, starting off with just the two pianists. Other people would join in, as Bob Brookmeyer would put it, when it became inevitable. From the first notes, they established an immediate rapport and played a long time before I got the twitches and had to join in. The piece continued to evolve as Clyde and Carol came onstage. People would choose to lay out for extended periods and the music grew in a very natural way. It reached a very emotional peak, and then just as inevitably, it ended. A single improv lasted for an hour and half.

We all knew that something special had taken place, and the people in the audience (a reasonably good-sized crowd) all seemed to confirm our feelings. Our special thanks go to Blythe Polreis for handling the door and bar duties, and to Bruce Freedman who most unexpectedly show up with his .wav file recorder. I have yet to listen to it - setting aside another hour and a half to give it a careful listening is not something you do during festival time.

Everyone was feeling deeply moved, and we packed up feeling very satisfied with the evening's music. My thoughts centered on how to get this lineup recorded, and how we could ever set up a dual piano concert in future. To find a proper venue with two grand pianos, with permission to prepare them, is going to be a challenge indeed. And I thought it was hard enough selling Coastal on our standard lineup! No matter, the important thing was the fantastic music that was created that evening. From an emotional viewpoint, it was certainly on a level that surpassed the improv that I had seen during the Festival. We all had that buzz that comes from really connecting and creating something very significant.

As I was packing up, we heard a cry from the alley. We rushed out to see Lisa laying in the alley in great pain. As she was loading her Rhodes into Clyde's car, a carload of Granville St. yahoos drove by and hit her, stopping their expensive car on top of her foot. After some frantic discussion, they finally moved off her foot. The driver got out to check her out, and we got outside in time to see him jump back in the car and take off.

What a friggin day


Weatherwise, I swear this was the screwiest day I have seen in ages.

I watched the forecasts all week long, torturing myself about the prospects for a decent day for our gig at Victory Square. The forecast varied day by day, station by station. As with any typical Vancouver day with unsettled weather, there was no predicting exactly what would happen.

It soon became apparent that there was no getting out of the forecast of rain for Sunday. I decided on a course of action. It could rain like hell in the morning, then clear up by noontime. Everyone would be happy. That was the best plan I could muster.

Saturday night we played a private function, not one of our best outings. I was beat when I got home. My daughter had one of those nights where she crawled into our bed in the middle of the night, meaning nobody got a decent night's sleep. I had two separate dreams about playing a jazz festival gig with guys I used play with 30 years ago, having arguments with the piano players onstage, the dreams ending with them walking off midset. Not a restful night at all and morning came way too soon.

The rain was coming down so hard around 7:00am that it woke me up. Not to worry - it cleared up by noon. My evil master plan was working to perfection.

Throughout the morning, I had a slight melancholy feeling, partially due to lack of sleep, but also thinking about Banff. The Maria Schneider concert would have been last night, and by this time, everyone would be leaving, going back to the real world. The magic would be over for another year, all too soon.

From my practice room window, I can look out the window over Georgia Strait almost all the way down to Victoria. At noon, the blue sky was starting to come out overhead, but I didn't want to acknowledge the black cloud blowing up the Strait from the southwest. At 1:00, we had to do some shopping in Richmond and when we left the store, it was pissing again. By the time we got back home, a 5-minute drive, it was nice again, with the sun peeking out.

I called Coat as soon as he got offstage from his Coat Cooke Trio gig, to see how it was at Victory Square. He said the rain had come out partway through his set, but about a third of the people stuck it out. They all split as soon as the music was over, but came back for the next act.

I spent the next hour getting ready for the gig, ignoring the next black cloud racing up the Strait. At 4:00, there was no ignoring it.

The cloud was huge and directly overhead when I heard the first crack of lightning. fuck

Then the hail started. About the size of peas, the ground in our neighbourhood was suddenly entirely white. double fuck

Then the deluge began, and there was a small river running down our street. fuckety fuck fuck

I figured the gig was toast. The rain was was so intense, I thought there would be no way anyone would stay in Gastown. But I had to go down, at least to show my face and justify getting paid. My mood was about as black as the cloud lingering overhead. There was no promise of a break, looking out to the southwest.

We all piled into the car, my family being game enough to tag along, rain still coming down in buckets. Partway downtown, Cassandra spotted a break in the clouds off to the west. As we crossed the Cambie St. bridge, the rain started easing up. A couple more minutes to Victory Square, and it was tolerable. It was a dramatic change over the course of the 20 minutes it took to get from home to the gig.

As we started our set, it was down to a very light drizzle, and then the sun came out bit by bit. It was a very neat effect, being inside the tent, seeing the rain backlit by the emerging sunlight. Then suddenly, we needed sunglasses. The warmth from the change in weather was most welcome as my horns were very cold starting off, which made them a bit finicky as far as the tuning.

The set itself was one of our best ever, and even Leaf, which has been so problematic for us, sounded great. A sizeable audience somehow materialized, and were very enthusiastic. Wanda was on top of her game and did a great job entertaining the crowd. Our pianist, the estimable Mr. Crisp It, played his ass off, what ass he has left. Mark was solid on bass, and we've really been spoiled to have had Tom on drums as often as we have in the last month. We really didn't want to stop at the appointed time, but we were given the sign and that was that.

The picture here belies all of the meterological drama of the preceeding hours. In the end, it was all well worth it. What a friggin day.

On the Eve

With the jazz festival about to get underway, I have a unusual sense of ambivalence. Yes, I am really stoked about my Gastown gig on Sunday, 6:00pm at Victory Square with The Wanda Nowicki Group, if you must know. Fresh off our time in the studio, the band has never sounded better.

But nonetheless, I am not as excited about the rest of the Festival as I usually get. There are not any must-see shows on my list this time round. Maybe I should catch Sonny Rollins, but last time he was here at The Commodore, it was was a very disappointing gig for me, and though the circumstances now are very different, I just can't bring myself to pony up for him.

I usually have a ritual of going through the program with a pen and a highlighter and marking down everything that I want to see, a lot of out of town acts, but also a lot of the local acts. I really believe that it is important to come and support my fellow musicians when their talents are being showcased. Often it's proof (as if anyone really needs it) that we have world-class talent right here.

Although the list is very long, two examples immediately spring to mind. The first was seeing the Brad Turner Quartet open for Patricia Barber at The Centre. Their sound quality was absolutely exquisite, just like the music - I felt like I was sitting inside Dylan's kit, and I mean that in a good way. Then Patricia Barber had her own sound guy take over, and the sound turned to mush. (The folks at Rocky Mountain should be commended for the job they do year after year.) The other example was with the London Composer's Orchestra at the Cultch, the vanguard of London's improvising scene. It came time for Peggy Lee do her thing, and the guys just stopped and gawked. Not that Peggy was trying to prove anything. It was simply a deeply musical moment.

Every year, there are dozens of examples of how great the scene is here in Vancouver. I get a charge seeing my friends and acquaintances doing so well. And I know that there could be at least twice as many examples of it, if the festival was able to accomodate all of the great players in town.

And no, this is not a whine about me not getting more gigs this year. I am always thankful for what I get, if I do get any. I don't base my entire self worth on what I get or don't get.

Rather, I think that this year, I just have other priorities. The cd project with Wanda is in its final stages and it needs attention to move it to completion. Ditto for ion Zoo. I am very pleased with my playing on Wanda's cd, and I've always been critical of my jazz playing. The ion Zoo disc shows my other side, and I typically I am much more satisfied with my free playing.

I'm not connected in any way to VCMI this year, so that may also be a factor. I sponsored VCMI nights for the last two years at 1067, sort of an intro night for the participants to get together and hang on the night before the program starts. 1067 was booked up very early this year - I'm hopeful it will be the after-hours hang for the improv crowd during the festival.

But the main thing that's eating at me is a promise to myself that I broke.

I started this blog a year ago in May, when I attended the Hugh Fraser Jazz Orchestra Workshop in Banff. It has always been a memoir of my creative process. Originally meant just to run two weeks, I was encouraged to keep on blogging, which I have enjoyed.

The four HFJO workshops that I've attended have deeply changed and influenced my life as any steady reader would already know, and none more than the first one. I am still incorporating the lessons that I learned from Hugh and Maria Schneider. Having the rare opportunity to play her music and work with her changed everything for me. I have always vowed to do whatever it takes to be there again if she came back to Banff.

Chucho Valdez was originally scheduled to be the guest artist this year, but after the application deadline, word got out that Maria would be back. At Hugh's invitation, I had been planning to drive up to Banff to watch the proceedings and hang with Chucho and the orchestra for a day or two. No problem, I would do the same with Maria, and have the chance to thank her in person for being such a catalyst in my life. Then things got busy, the cd projects took longer than expected, and family and financial priorities gave me a reality check. There would be no drive to Banff this year.

Two weeks ago, Eli Bennett wrote me to ask what to expect up there. I've been a big fan of this young player and would have loved to have had the chance to spend some time up there with him. Then I started thinking about the people who return each year for the workshop, some who have become good friends of mine, some who have become musical collaborators. The opportunities missed. Just to see Maria lead the orchestra with her glorious music...

Instead, I've just been playing her cds all the time and moping a bit. I've had a fantasy about playing pandeiro with the orchestra while they performed her Choro Dancadao. She was the person who turned me on to this marvellous instrument.

I guess that dream will just have to wait.

Heavy metal and other debris

I put blogging on the back shelf for a few weeks. There was just too much going on. So, here's a bit of catch-up. Helsinki 8 had one of its infrequent gigs, this one being at the SFU School for Contemporary Arts grad show. It was in what once was the American Can factory, down on the Vancouver waterfront, a very cool building. We played a couple of fairly atmospheric sets, with a bassoonist sitting in for Soressa, one of our singers. It was sort of off-putting that one of the grad students had done a visual installation using the face of our guitarist Pessi, an image about 12 feet high. Pessi is already larger than life, standing about 6'7" or so, but this was BIG. At least we didn't have to play in front of it. The audience feedback was that my stab at conduction was the best received, so maybe we need to focus on more structured material.

The following night I played a duet set with Seattle percussionist Dean Moore at 1067. I thought I was over the top with my percussion collection, but Dean trumps me. He brought about four times what I have on my rack, with a number of very nice large Paiste gongs. Interestingly, in our combined assemblage of brass percussion, we had exactly one of the same item, a UFIP burma bell. Yet they sounded totally different.

Dean plays much more in the tradition of what I consider to be gong music, building up series after series of overtones from a beautiful deep fundamental tone. It's very reflective and somewhat sleep-inducing. It's not that it's boring, but the music is very meditative and has a powerful somnolent effect on people.

He played a couple of extended solo pieces, then we joined forces for the second set. I saw it as my role to be the destabilizing force, to create more tension and release. Sometimes we hooked up in very beautiful ways. Other times, I sought to find harsher sounds, or even random sounds. Once I threw a small chain at the rack, happy to let it create whatever sounds it wanted to. It bounced off of my stuff and ended up making a cool sound on one of Dean's gongs. So I came at this with a free improv aesthetic, and it seemed to work with Dean's approach. We're looking at doing a project in September in Seattle with a third percussionist in a cool new performance space, said to have really nice acoustics.

My only disappointment was that there was a very small turnout on the night. The previous night's attendance was similarly light. We chalked it up to being the Victoria Day long weekend. I resolved not to book 1067 on long weekends in future. Then I looked at my next booking there. It's going to be a fantastic night with Montreal's Marianne Trudel joining ion Zoo. Any steady reader of my blog knows how very highly I think of Marianne as a dear friend and a superlative pianist. She and Lisa Miller are going to start off with a piano duet set, two hugely talented musicians. The date - June 29, on the Canada Day long weekend. D'oh!!!

Next up was ion Zoo at The Cellar. Again, it was proof that this is a very fine group indeed, one that I consider myself most fortunate to be part of. I must admit that I was disappointed that this group did not land a spot in the upcoming jazz festival. I do realize that it's a difficult one to program, considering that we need a quiet and intimate venue plus a grand piano. As I pointed out in the jazz forum, there were at most a dozen slots available for local improvisors. A lot of good groups and musicians got shut out entirely. CJBS has gone a long way to creating and sustaining a strong improv scene here in Vancouver, yet can only offer a small number of spots in their festival. I guess we're in the same boat as all of the other various styles of jazz.

I'd hoped to get some useable shots for our upcoming cd cover, but the lighting at The Cellar was minimal. It was impossible to get a group shot in performance, particularly with the light on Lisa being minimal. I continue to morph into a Ross Taggart lookalike. Too bad that didn't include his chops...

Fortunately, sometime during his wedding preparations (congrats!!!), Cory has since gotten more of the stage lighting working. I got much better photos of The Fiddlers during their fine evening last Monday. There's only a few more Monday nights left in the current NOW series before the jazz festival starts. They are certainly worth checking out.

The balance of my musical time has been spent working on the Wanda Nowicki Group cd project. Rather than the DIY productions we have done in the past (I am sick of burning cds and printing up all of the labels and covers), we are going the full-blown release route, using a commercial pressing company, getting a graphic designer, etc. Getting all of the licensing done has been a pain, though as a composer I am totally supportive of making sure artists get their fair share for their efforts. By plugging away it a bit at a time every day, we are making progress, and it is beginning to feel less overwhelming.

Wanda have even come up with a title for the cd, always a challenging proposition. And she has found a graphic designer. We had a meeting with her and I think she has some exciting ideas.

I did a few hours of percussion tracks in the studio last night and I hope my efforts will enhance the cd. I wish I had the ability of guys like Pepe Danza or Jack Duncan to make the percussion sound really exciting at times, but face it, they are professional percussionists and it's a sideline for me. My aim is to enhance the music and I think by and large I accomplished that.

On one track, Leaf, I tried a different approach, laying down multiple tracks of various percussive sounds. Played back all together, they sound horrid. My hope is by eliminating 90% of them, just the tasty bits will be left. Leaf has been the piece that has been the trial for most of us, and I have growing confidence that it is coming together. Jeanette Lindstrom has asked me to send her a copy of it when we're done - now, that makes me nervous. She is just so great with her original material, it's a bit daunting to send her our version of it.

Tonight we're back at Riverside, hopefully for the last session before we start mixing and mastering.

ion Zoo at the Cellar May 14, 8:30pm

be there

info

Kvetch

There are times when I wish my life was simpler.

I recently got some grief from someone on the vancouverjazz forum, basically suggesting I was selling out for playing some straight-ahead jazz in the upcoming Vancouver Jazz Festival. I am pretty sure that he was trying to get a rise out of me and I wasn't going to go for it.

I've always believed that playing a wider number of musical styles enhances my development as musician, regardless of what my basic musical preference may be. Any reader of this blog for the last year would know that I've done a fairly broad range of things in that time.

There are moments, though, when I wonder if I would make more progress if I simply focussed on one instrument, one style. I would probably benefit by doing that, but I'm not sure I'd be happy. I certainly don't want to limit myself, but maybe I should be saying no more frequently to various offers to play on projects.

Maybe it's just everything going on right now. I have a gig tonight at 1067, the first set with Primord, lots of bass sax skronk, then the next set on clarinets. Monday at The Cellar, I'm really excited to be back with ion Zoo with at least 3 saxes, bass clarinet and percussion. Then next week I have a percussion duet set at 1067 (there's going to be a pile of gongs and bells and cymbals!). And a Helsinki 8 gig at SFU. And all the while, I'm finishing off the cd project with Wanda, at least three more studio sessions. Not to mention all of the artwork and paperwork required to move ahead that project and the ion Zoo release.

On reading this over, this is not really so bad. Sure, I have the rest of my life and all those other responsibilities to deal with, but there are many, many people juggling a lot more balls, particulary full-time musicians. People with serious health or personal problems. Accountants.

OK, I'll stop whining. Come to think of it, I'm doing exactly what I want to be doing. Hey, things are looking pretty good!

Down by the Riverside

I finally managed to haul out my camera to get some pictures of Wanda and the boys at Riverside, on what was the third evening of our current recording project.

This was the night where we recorded a couple of the most challenging tunes. It was a lot of work, and I'm still not sure that we won't need another night with all of us to get some better takes. A lot can be done with the odd judicious fix, and expert mixing and mastering, something that Rick and Dwayne are great at. So I will hold back on my judgment on the results so far.

As ever, I am rarely satisfied with my own playing in the studio. I am my own worst critic, and I will probably ask for a retake or two, for my sake. One of the things that was different last night was that I stood in the control room while laying down the tracks with the band. I knew that there was a certain amount of leakage on the previous nights when I played in the main room with the rest of them. I agreed with Dwayne that it may be best to isolate me in order to have a cleaner sound with the bass and piano. Drums were already in a booth, so it was the control booth for me.

An unexpected experience for me was when we did Hi-Fly, where the rhythm section was grooving really nicely. When we rehearsed in my living room, we were all together in a fairly cozy room and I could really feel the groove in my gut, standing between the bass and drums.

I had no problems with the other tunes we did last night, and with the isolation being so effective, I had to rely on the headphone mix. I had an Aebersold moment, feeling like I wasn't playing live with a band, just playing along with some disembodied music over the phones. I can't recall having a similar experience before. I was also OK for the previous tunes, but on Hi-Fly, I wanted to feel that visceral groove thing going on.

I felt my bari solo in that tune was not up to par with the energy that the rest of the band was putting out. I want to be as good as possible because it's going to be a a standout track on the cd. I wish I were a first take good sort of player, but that just ain't the case.

We were very pleased to have Tom Foster back with us on drums for the night. He has been our drummer of choice since our last recording project together, and he is our go-to guy whenever we have gigs at places where we can utilize a drummer. The next time will be at the Jazz Festival, June 24 at Victory Square, to put in a shameless plug. As I mentioned, a couple of the tunes were pretty challenging and it was a hell of a lot easier with Tom in the driver's seat.

One of those tunes was Jeanette Lindstrom's Leaf, which sounds deceptively easy on her cd. You may recall that I mentioned doing a lift of this tune a couple of months back and being surprised to find out that it was mostly in 5/4. It just flows so nicely. I don't know if we quite got that same flow, but it will sound pretty darn good.

Last week, Jeanette sent me her original chart for it. There were some chords on my transcription that were different, but very close in sound. We decided to go with my chords. Jeanette asked me to send her our version when we finished. I don't know about that - that's a bit scary. Her entire cd is so damn impeccable and her singing is absolutely great. You can hear what I mean when she returns to town for Festival Vancouver in August.

We did try two takes with acoustic piano and two with Rhodes. The inimitable Mr. Cliff Piffling was most anxious to get his mitts on the Rhodes. It sounded pretty good, but so did the piano. Somebody will have to make a choice.

Mark was as solid as ever on bass, always bringing his A game when we play. And when you're at a studio run by Rick Kilburn, you know the bass is going to have to sound good. I think this is the fifth project we've done at Riverside so everyone is pretty relaxed about things.

Wanda did great, and took care of us with some nice snacks and beer. She had a challenge with the timing in Leaf. There are 4 single bars of 6/4 sprinkled through the tune, just to keep everyone of their toes. It certainly kept us alert.













With the bulk of the recording done, next week Wanda and I will head back to Riverside for the final touches, then the mixing and mastering.

Primordial ooze


My daughter has been down with that bug for the last three days and I have been the primary caregiver during the daytime. When my wife gets home from work, we do a quick hand-off, then I am out and about.

Last Wednesday was memorable. Within minutes of the hand-off, I was on the way to Riverside for more work on the cd. On the way down, we listened to Abby Lincoln's take on Live for Life, with an arrangement that I wasn't particularly fond of. It started as a ballad and went to a latin feel midway through, but it wasn't entirely convincing, with the horns sounding a touch cheesy for my taste.

We had worked out a very spare arrangement for our version, mostly a piano/vocal duet. Unfortunately, our pianist, one Mr. Clint Porous, had the Lincoln arrangement stuck in his head and could not get away from the fromage-laden latin feel. The first couple of takes really didn't work, so we rejigged the whole thing there on the spot. The final take was even more stripped-down and far more effective. I wanted my tenor solo to come as a surprise, with nothing leading up to it, and then not to play again until the last chord. It took Rick Kilburn to point out that it was evocative of the John Coltrane/Johnny Hartmann cd, one of my favourites. I am very loathe to even mention Trane in any way with regard to my playing, because we are so very distant from each other on the jazz food chain. Nonetheless, I had to agree with Rick that there was an undeniable influence, totally unconscious on my part. Well, it's more flattering than finding comparisons between me and Boots Randolph.

We picked the good tracks from the previous session and got a rough mix of them so we could give them a listen. We also entertained ourselves with trying to get some lame quotes to help promo the cd. "They were all in the same room that night." - Rick Kilburn

We had to cut the session short as I had a 9:30 call at the The Cobalt. Walking through the doors for the first time in 21 years, I was struck by how small it was. The only thing I could remember from my gin-soaked previous visit was an electric blue room with a lit stage with stripper poles in the centre. All that remained of that was the circular housing for the lights on the ceiling, now unused and covered in spray paint. Piles of empties, likely left over from that same visit, were strewn about.

The carpet onstage was sticky and full of unidentifiable stains. The delicate tang of piss and stale beer wafted out of the men's can, which was just to my right.

That triggered a couple of olfactory memories.

The Basin St. bar, where I spent time chatting with a working girl about our families, while my business trip partner was out in the back alley, leaning up against a dumpster, getting blown by the bartender. He was an Australian, living in New Guinea, on his first ever trip to North America. We were visiting various coffee importers in the USA, the centers being San Francisco, New York and finally New Orleans. (They thought that new Seattle company may have an impact on the trade. Were they called Starbucks?) I could write a lengthy piece on our trip, but that will have to be another time. Suffice it to say that he was desperate to make it with an American woman before going home, and was driving me nuts about it. I passed up going to hear some real music on our one free night in New Orleans just to be able to shut him up. On his last night in the US, he considered it money well spent to be out in that alley.

The roadside redneck cowboy bar in Rocky Creek, Idaho. I was travelling with Clara and my brother and his wife, a Martha Stewart protegee. They needed an emergency pee break, so we pulled into the only place for miles around. That same putrid stench was wafting out the front door of the bar, but it didn't deter two women with bursting bladders. I advocated simply letting loose on the floor, just like the locals, judging from the smell. This joint's claim to fame was its upcoming annual Testicle Festival, a prairie oyster eating contest. Being married to a black woman, I figured I was pretty lucky to get out of there without being force-fed one of my own nards.

We were in Idaho the exact time that there was a famous standoff and shootout in Hayden Lake and white supremacists were flocking to the area to support their brethren. How charming. I always felt the way to keep these guys in check was to have a rule that you had to be able to spell the word "supremacist" before you could become one.

How easily I digress. The Cobalt has that same fragrant charm, with just about every available surface covered in graffiti and grindcore posters. The rest has been sprayed with beer and god knows what else.

Primord is as unique a lineup as I've ever been involved with. Two bari saxes, tenor sax (no bassoon that night, dammit), two guys playing half a drum kit, and me on The Beast. It was bloody loud and I'm glad that I had brought earplugs. That had a very interesting effect for me as I played by feel as much as by what I could hear. Low instruments have a very marked resonance back into the body of the player, made even more noticeable by the earplugs.

I admit that I do not practice The Beast on a regular basis. I only have call to use it a few times every year. I used to play it regularly with ion Zoo, but I prefer to limit myself now. My bass sax is from the 1920's and has an antiquated key layout. Certain notes are just plain funky and require alternate fingerings. Keys heights are significantly greater that other saxophones, making speed a challenge. And you have to be ready with a surplus of air support to get it to speak well. But it has a huge range of tonal possibilities and I can see why some improvisers choose to specialize on it.

When it came time for me to blow, I put as much energy as possible into it and tried to go for the unexpected. Adrian Rollini (1920's king of the bass sax), it wasn't. It seemed to be well-received, as was the band.

There is something meaningful to me about playing at a venue where so much music has been made by countless bands, often with people no less dedicated (often totally, maybe fatally committed) to the pursuit of their art. There is an undeniable significance to this place. When I first came to Vancouver, I missed out on going to places like The Cave, The Smiling Buddha and Rohan's before they closed. I am actually proud to add the Cobalt to the Commodore and the Chan Centre as places where I've performed.

Back in the saddle

This past Wednesday, I had a spring in my step that has been missing for the last month. I've talked to so many friends that also endured a lack of energy for a number of weeks as they dealt with that cold bug that's been going around. People have said that this year has been much worse than usual and I have to agree. I'm blaming it on global warming.

It was fairly timely as I've started getting active again. Last weekend was another Bugs Black Blood gig, this time at 1067. I considered it a victory that I didn't cough up a lung or two after the gig, for the first time in over three weeks. The group played its best that night and there was a decent crowd, with the beer selling out just at the end of the night. That's always a good thing.

Yesterday was a busy one. I had a rehearsal for a gig next week at The Cobalt. Aptly named Primord, this group features 2 bari saxes, one tenor sax/bassoon, me on bass sax, and my personal favourite, 2 guys playing half a drum kit between them. One of the things we are doing is an Iggy Pop/David Bowie tune, Tonight. There's a pretty high skronk factor. Gotta love it.

I've been to the Cobalt exactly twice in my life. The first time was in 1986 for my stag party, at the end of a very long night of double gin and tonics. I have a fleeting visual image, but no clue of how long we stayed there or what we did. I do know that we went home shortly after that and that I passed out embracing the toilet. My bride-to-be did what all supportive partners would do - put a pillow under my head, then took a picture which she gave to my alleged best friend and ringleader on the night.

The last time was earlier this year. We had a homestay student from Belfast with us for a few months and she enjoyed hanging out there with her mates. She would only have a few drinks each night, so she was a teatotaller by Irish standards. One night, somebody put something in her second beer and she was wasted. I got a call from her friends at 3:00 am to come down and pick her up. She was passed out, slumped on a chair on the sidewalk outside the front door. Nobody ever found out how it happened. Fortunately nothing worse transpired and her friends took care of her once they realized that she was in trouble.

I've not been to the Fake Jazz Wednesdays yet, so this should be fun. It's where free improv meets metal and noise. Perfect for the Cobalt.

Shortly after the Primord rehearsal, it was a fairly substantial stylistic shift as I was off to Riverside's new studio location to do the first session for the new cd project with Wanda and the boys. The plan for the first night was to lay down a number of the tunes that we have played at almost every gig we have ever done. All fairly straight forward, we may have five good takes in the can. We didn't spend much time listening to playback, so we'll have to wait for the rough mixes to be done.

I took my camera along, but didn't have a chance to take it out of the bag. We were pretty intent on getting as much recorded as possible. We were working with the same engineer as we've done with all of our sessions there, so things were very relaxed.

The Monday night series is back at The Cellar next week after a two-week hiatus. Featuring the Ben Wilson Quintet and nada, it promises to be a very good night. The dress code is "Tennis, Anyone?".

Bugs Black Blood

For the last week, I've been suffering from that bug that has been making the rounds and I'm getting bloody tired of it.

I didn't notice the early warning signs last Friday when I was playing with Wa and the boys at Seb's. I was having some difficulty playing some fairly familiar tunes, just mentally navigating the changes. From there, I raced over to 1067 to play until the wee hours.

The next morning I awoke with a very ominous sore throat and within a couple of hours, I was down for the count. I took it as easy as possible over the weekend, but I didn't want to miss playing the Cellar on Monday with a new large ensemble, Bugs Black Blood. We had a final rehearsal on Sunday night that I coughed my way through, then had a very tough night. On Monday, it was almost a coin toss as to whether or not to play, but I felt a touch better, at least until I reached The Cellar. Despite being warmly dressed, I got a severe case of the chills and just could not warm up all night.

I spent most of the night just sitting in my chair onstage as it was the warmest spot there when the stage lights were on. I was slightly less animated than Kenny Wheeler when he's not playing, in other words, catatonic. I just played my parts, stood and gave it for my solos, and otherwise just tried to get through the night without chucking.

I think things ended up OK, though my energy was seriously waning in the second set. The recording will tell the tale, for sure.

Anyways, I had to be there as the theme of the night was wigs. A bunch of people in the band and the audience wore goofy wigs. Never one to miss a chance to make a fool of myself, I opted for something much more elegant - the Austin Powers-style chest rug. There was a brief masochistic moment at the end of the night when I ripped the luxurious thatch off, with the glue ensuring that I lost what little chest hair I actually possessed.

That instance of self-mutilation done, I beat it for home as quickly as possible and had another very sleepless night.

There was only one time that I can recall being sicker onstage at a gig. It was many years ago and I was called to play a dance band gig in Chilliwack. The only reason I took it was because Dave Quarin was playing lead alto. He was the first guy in Vancouver I took lessons from and I'd never before had a chance to play a gig with him.

Mistake #1: I didn't own my own tux back then, and I borrowed a real nice one from a friend. It was a Christian Dior that he had bought in Paris. It looked great, it was just a inch or so too small in the waist and chest and two inches too long in the arms. (My friend has the build of a spider monkey.)

Mistake #2: I was running late so I didn't take a change of clothes

Mistake #3: I carpooled with some of the guys. Normally OK, but these were oldtimers who were the hardcore dance band types. The conversation was fairly limited to the various intrigues of the other bands on the circuit and about ricky-ticky arrangements. Dave must have gone up in another car - at least we could have had a fun conversation. It was a Friday evening gig, so the traffic was pretty bad. It made for a long drive.

Mistake #4: This was the killer. I wolfed down a very large meal before I left - Indian food. Rubina Tandoori was one of the best in the city, but it just wasn't sitting right.

By the time we hit the stage in Chilliwack, I had Stage One New Delhi Belly. As we played the first set, I started turning green. I hung on as long as I could, not wanting to look unprofessional in front of Dave (way too late for that!). But well before the set ended, I had to bolt right in the middle of a tune, and with my bulging eyes and cheeks, it was pretty evident to all what was happening.

Gentle readers, I will refrain from any detailed description of what followed, lest it put you all off of Indian food for the near future. I just remember feeling the incongruity of being so colourfully and violently ill while wearing a fine French tuxedo, which didn't escape unsullied.

I wobbled back onstage, only to dash off again. After a long break, I was able to play the remaining sets. As the elderly dancers would spin by, a number of grandmotherly types would ask "How you doing now, dear?" or offer advice.

The long drive home was punctuated by at least one bolting from the car. In all a miserable night. Dave wasn't inclined to hang out with a guy who was spending some serious face time with a public toilet - go figure. I don't even recall the pay being that great.

Maybe The Cellar wasn't so bad after all.

Futures: Microscores / October Trio + 1

It was a bit strange going to The Cellar two nights in a row without my camera. There have been a few times in the last six months when I arrive somewhere to see a gig and realize that I've left the camera home. Quite often those were the nights when there was something worthwhile going on.

For Tuesday night, it would have been inappropriate running around snapping off shots. Producer David Pay has set up things so that food and bar service are suspended during the performance in order for the room to be as quiet as possible. Typical of Dave's ventures, the room was pretty well full. People know that his events are of a high calibre and they turn out in good numbers. Having a full house in a room like The Cellar adds a great vibe to the performance.

Jessica Catron and Johnny Chang are to be commended for their dedication to The Microscore project. They now have over 260 pieces of no more than 30 seconds in length and will add to that total this coming weekend in Seattle. I loved the breadth of compositional techniques, going from whimsical to conceptual to extremely densely and carefully scored. Distilling the extended techniques for string instruments that are incorporated in all of these pieces could be the basis for a definitive book on this subject.

Ten Vancouver composers, myself included, had the priveledge to add to their growing repertoire. Nine of us were there. I thought Dave should have dipped into his life savings to fly Kelly Churko in from Tokyo, but apparently Dave didn't see it that way. Something about balancing budgets, I guess.

I appointed myself shop steward for the composers in order to bargain a nice fat royalty package for us, as Jessica and Johnny will be playing some of our pieces again. Dave and I are deadlocked between one drop and one glass of wine. He is one hardass negotiator. Either way, I feel I have a future as a negotiator for the NHLPA.

47 microscores were performed, bookended by four longer compositions by James Tenney. I was happy with how mine went. It was the second microscore on the program. I did think they rushed it a touch, maybe 29 seconds. Next time I will attach a $5 bill to my score. That should get me up to at least 34 seconds.

For the most part, I thought the evening was a success. Most of the audience liked it, but not everyone. I was too focussed on the stage to pay attention to some people who were making a bit of noise. It never fails to amaze me that people don't clue in to the fact that when everyone else in the room is being absolutely quiet, they should be doing the same. Apparently this was The Makeout Couple. Not only were they making out, but this guy was groping his much younger date, and they were making some noise almost as if they wanted everyone to see what they were doing. I guess contemporary string duets were making them hot, sufficiently so that they left on the first break.

I hope that this project continues for some time and that they (Johnny and Jessica, not the Makeout Couple) return to Vancouver sometime in the future with a mountain of scores. As for the MC, get a hotel room.

The MC were nowhere to be seen last night when the October Trio hit the stage. Eli Bennet filled in most capably until Evan Arntzen arrived fashionably late early in the second set. These two guys have a great rapport and play well together. They have a lot of fun onstage yet aren't above giving each other the occasional ass-kick, which motivates each of them to dig in a bit more. Eli raised the stakes with the last tune of the night. The group is playing an obligatory Monk tune each night now and Eli called the fiendish Four in One, which he had prepared. Evan had never seen it before and wisely opted out of playing the head right off the top. He comported himself admirably in the solos and did quite well taking the head out. Eli nailed it, and I could easily imagine Evan already plotting what to pull for the next meeting.

Seeing these two together broght to mind Cam Ryga's recent interview on www.vancouverjazz.com, about his history with Ross Taggart. I hope I've been witnessing the genesis of a similar musical friendship.

And I can't close off without mentioning Josh Cole and Dan Gaucher. The October Trio has played fairly steadily over the last couple of years and it shows. These guys were showing real depth as players and as composers. I've had limited chances to hear Dan drum, but this was certainly his best outing in my experience. I've previously heard Josh play only Christmas music when we did last years's Singing Christmas Tree together. He's got a future the other 11 months of the year.

These four guys are part of the future of jazz in this city. We are in good hands.

Confessions of a dangerous kind

At times, I can be a musical whore. Other times, merely a tramp.

Another busy weekend - Saturday saw me in two back-to-back gigs of the sort that I rarely play any more. First off was a wedding gig with a standard quartet. I can't remember the last time I played a straight-ahead situation with a full rhythm section. The groom had seen us gigging with Wa and liked our instrumental stuff. The reception itself was a good baptist affair, dry as a popcorn fart, but the groom wanted jazz and that's what he got. I was calling standards that I easily haven't played in at least 5 years and it was a refreshing change, and we had a nice young drummer on the job. Our pianist, Chuck Porea, always plays better on a real grand piano and this church hall had a nice one. No food for the band though.

From there I raced over to the local German club for a polka gig. The things I do for money. But the thing is that they really take care of you. I walked in the door and the leader had a schnitzel the size of my face waiting for me. Typically German, he'd figured out the time it would take me to arrive from the previous gig and had ordered up the food to be served up at just the right time. And even though he knows I don't drink at gigs, there were repeated offers of free beer. Everything was set up, charts in order, sound was set up nicely, even a new light for my music stand. At the end of the night, my chops were starting to go from 5 hours of steady playing. Then he paid me fairly well for the job. It really shows that European appreciation of musicians.

Another perfect example is at the local Austrian club. Right beside the stage door is one of the prime parking spots, with a sign that reads "THIS SPACE RESERVED FOR MUSICIANS". Where do you see that sort of thing nowadays? Ever?

So I end up doing a few polka gigs a year. I'm OK with it. For the last few, the dress code has just been all black. It's been a while since they've gone full dress.

There have never been, nor will there ever be, any pictures of me in lederhosen. It's my one stipulation with these guys.

I will fess up to having done drag once and only once, for a good friend's party where the strict dress code was evening gowns for everyone. The reason why is a long story. I asked a longtime friend of mine who's a drag performer to have his way with me, as it were. He looked me up and down and announced that I was a size 14. When he was done, I looked liked my mother had mugged Juliette. I stood about 7 feet tall from bottom of stiletto to top of wig (a reasonable standard for drag queens and NBA centers). There were photos, but nothing ever made it online. Even if it did, I could live with it. OK, I'll show you a well-turned ankle that may or may not belong to me, but nothing more. I promise. My favourite personal touch was a temporary ankle tatoo copying one of Kate Hammett-Vaughan's tats. (Some claim Kate is one of the city's finest queens.) I had a great back story as all good drag queens must. My name was Dixie Lexia, a failed country singer on yet another comeback.

All of that being said, pictures of me in lederhosen are verboten. Even a musical whore has some scruples, however flimsy they may be. But I must admit that the first time I put on the lederhosen, they felt warmly supple and inviting...

But I digress.

Sunday night saw me in rehearsal with a new large ensemble called Bugs Black Blood. I considered this the cure for the previous evening's dalliances as it was back to the more familiar territory of new and improvised music. We struggled with a score composed by one of the band members. I would guess it would be his first piece for such a group. It could have been more clearly notated and presented. We had to talk at length about different improvisational tactics that changed almost bar by bar. It became a group exercise in head-scratching and Coat did an excellent job in drawing the music out of it as he figured out how to conduct it. This sort of situation can bog a rehearsal down. I lost my temper when a brass player asked a question about a bar that we had just spent several minutes discussing, obviously not having paid a shred of attention to what we had just been saying. And he still didn't get it when I walked over and wrote it out on his part.

There is a general lowering of IQ in a room when things get derailed in this manner. I now have much less patience for this sort of thing, something I will have to work on. Coat showed a remarkable amout of patience and professionalism standing in front of the band working things out. I'm sure that in his shoes, I would have just asked the composer to take it home and fix it before laying such a thing on the band. As it was, he and I had a very productive talk on the way home about how to present complex conceptual pieces.

It was educational for me in a few ways. It showed me how not to present a composition. I also learned ways as a conductor to mine such a piece for the musicality hidden inside it. The bottom line is that it will be a good piece to perform, it's just taking way too long for the band to get a handle on it. I also had the insight that in my desire to write something that can be quickly understood and played (like a grid score), that when I write, sometimes I am willing to sacrifice a certain amount of complexity or detail. That's a good thing to keep in mind and address when composing.

Speaking of that, one of my compositions is being premiered tomorrow night at The Cellar. This is part of something called The Microscores Project. This is definitely the shortest thing I've ever written. As LA-based musicians Jessica Catron (cello) and Johnny Chang (violin) tour, they ask local composers to write a 30-second piece as a contribution to the project. Ten Vancouver composers have contributed and now the project has over 225 minatures in its collection. For details, see www.musiconmain.ca.

Wednesday night at The Cellar is also a must-see in my books. The artist of the month is The October Trio, one of the great young groups in this city that is garnering national attention. Saxist Evan Arntzen can't make the first set, so Eli Bennett is subbing in, then the two of them tear it up for the remainder of the night. As I documented a couple of weeks back, I saw their first-ever meeting onstage, and it was absolutely fantastic. Bassist Josh Cole and drummer Dan Gaucher round out the group, fine musicians both. For more, see http://cellarjazz.com/.

While I'm on the topic of The Cellar, last Monday was an interesting one. String trio LSB 21 continues to coalesce into a fine group. These guys just keep getting better every time I hear them. They've asked a number of local composers to write something for them. I've been stalled in writing a graphic score - the guts are there, I just have to take the time to lay it all out and assemble it. It'll be a full colour deal with images and notation, lots of fun to do but time-consuming. I really need a deadline to get off my ass, but these guys are way too nice to impose one on me.

The second group was The Microscopic. They had the most world music sound of any group we have ever included in the NOW Monday night programming. Neelamjit Dhillon plays tabla, Meredith Bates on violin, Alvaro Rojas on strat, and Aaron Joyce on Hawaiian guitar. It was all very well played and Neel's tabla playing really draws your attention. But just like VICO at the Cultch the week previously, the element of risk was way too low for my taste. There were some group improvisations, but they were pretty contained. This group will do really well in other circles - world, roots and folk - but in the paradigm of the NOW series, they were far too conservative.

Monday the 19th promises to be back to form. Stefan Smulovitz and Viviane Houle do a duo set and the Saul Berson Trio rounds out the bill. Joining Saul will be Gord Grdina and Paul Blaney, all of them top players in this city. I have high expectations. www.noworchestra.com has the details.

Now, back to transcribing a little shoeplattle ...

Of Silicone and Cialis

The middle of last week saw the return of Wa and the boys to a place I call the Yaletown Breastaurant. Now in its second incarnation, this place seems to be very indicative of a new pneumatic esthetic that seems to be in abundance in this part of the city. Every time we've played there, women seem to be bursting out of their tops. Even those of Asian heritage often are unnaturally curvaceous. For sure, in my next life, I'm coming back as a cosmetic surgeon and I'm setting up practice right at the corner of Davie and Mainland. The flip side of this phenomenon is that the men upon whose arms these women are found are often a decade older, usually more.

At our Valentines day gig at this establishment, our pianist, one Mr. Cross Pitter, was delighted to find a Cialis package in the men's washroom. He was devastated to find it empty, but we were thankful as had there been something in the box, it may have resulted in the keyboard being precariously tilted for the remainder of the gig. We amused ourselve to imagine the scene that would have occurred had we bothered to announce over the PA, "Would the ower of a lost box of Cialis come up to the stage?" and see all these guys checking their pockets. Dudes saying to themselves, "Whew, not me, I'm a Viagra man."

As we were taking down our gear at the end of that gig, Wa was accosted by a woman who wanted us have her friend sit in with us. Evidently he had a lounge gig or something in Europe and was certainly wealthy, and perhaps not too used to being told no. His friend certainly wasn't taking no for answer. She wanted to pay us to set up again and seemed oblivious to the fact that we were scurrying like rats to get packed up and the hell out of there. She just continued to use her enormous Teutonic chest to push her point home. Wa, ever the diplomat, was protesting that we couldn't do him justice without a proper arrangement of Just a Gigolo (seriously) in his key. At which point this gal said, "Come on, I used to live in Los Angeles. I know how they do it. Just count 1, 2, 3, 4 and go." We went.

The Breastauant really liked our group and had offered Wa a steady weekly gig, which we were happy to take. Unfortunately, and very typically, they hadn't really thought this thing through. They wanted to go with live music three nights a week, but never bothered to properly promote it (no advertising whatsoever) or to give it any time to build up an reputation as a live music venue. As a band, we do promote our gigs to our e-mail lists, but we cannot be counted upon to fill the place immediately. We certainly do fill places like Seb's every time, but it takes a while to build an audience.

Less than a month in, the Breastaurant decided to can the music. I wasn't surprised, but I was disappointed nonetheless. I really saw this place as great source material for this blog, along the lines of The Hotel Pianist. Oh well, it'll give us more time (but less money) to focus on our recording project.

And then at The Cellar

I've decided to split up my last post as it was too rambling. And I'll add some pictures.

The last few Monday nights at the Cellar have been uniformly entertaining. As this series progresses, the bar continually gets reset to a higher level. I'll have to see what I can do about that when I return with the Bari Blizzard next month.

<- Cat Toren, Russell Sholberg and Dan Gaucher

Cat Toren's In Magnolia continues to grow as a group and they show more confidence moving from the scored material into improv, then back. Their evening was opened by Attention Diamond Shoppers, consisting of Rachel Wadham and Lee Hutzalak playing a combination of found materials and altered instruments with a high degree of musical sensitivity. They held court on a table in the middle of the room which they covered with a piece of pink fun fur. In lesser-skilled hands, this would have been a train wreck, but on this night, it was mesmerizing. And when both groups joined together for an extended improv, the delicacy and spatial placement of sounds around the room created something that I could guarantee had never been been heard before within the confines of The Cellar.

Rachel and Lee under Cory's watchful eye ->

My one regret was that both Rachel and In Magnolia bassist Russel Sholberg both had musical saws but never played them at the same time. I was dying for a cutting contest.

<- edgeffect

The following week saw another fine double-bill. Lisa Miller's edgeffect had the talents of Francois Houle, Jeremy Berkman, Stefan Smulovitz and guest guitarist Gordon Fitzell. Lisa's fine compositions mined a taut emotional territory and these talented musicians had a focussed energy about them.

The second set was another first for the NOW series, a group that had as its focus spoken, or sometimes semi-spoken word. cleftpallet featured Jonathan Wilke, Darren Williams, Nikki Reimer and Dave Chokroun. They applied the principles of slam poetry to music and some rules of improvised music to their texts. They were challenging, clever and often quite funny, but never resorted to schtick.

Last week was the return of Coat Cooke's new electric outfit, newly-named The Fiddlers. With Tommy Babin on electric bass, guitarist Chad MacQuarrie, drummer Skye Brooks and JP Carter on trumpet and electronics, Coat and the boys got into some deep groove. It was aided and abetted by Coat's compositional skills, which lifted the group above merely chugging over some twisted riff, something which bores me to tears. These guys are forming into a fairly badass unit.

Next up on March 5 is LSB 21 and The Microscopic. Check out www.noworchestra.com for details.