Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts

Tuesday, January 01, 2013

Listening to music, 1965

Doing some year-end reordering of attic storage we came across a wayward album, an LP by Tracy Nelson with whom I was friends back in 1965. Within a day or so a family member mentioned that he had begun listening to Bill Evans, specifically his album, Everybody Digs Bill Evans. Another friend, Elspeth Leacock, gave me that album in 1965 and it's found with the rest of my old LPs in our basement. The two reminded me of yet a third friend and musician, Rodney Moag, who played in a bar I frequented in 1965. He hadn't cut an LP at that time and I didn't know about the 45 he'd made that year.

Back in 1965 Rod was the most versatile of the three. He did vocals and wrote many of the songs he sang accompanying himself on the mandolin. And he was also proficient on guitar, dobro, violin, and viola. The group he led was called the Front Porch Back Steppers. I don't recall any others in that group but they probably included Charlie Taylor on bass and keyboard and maybe Don Gale on banjo.

This video was made 45 years after I met Rod but it gives some idea of the music I heard him play: Rod Moag at Forest Grove
(Rod performing at the Forest Grove Music Show, Chandler, Texas, on December 19, 2009; YouTube video uploaded by Alvin Murphy on Jan 16, 2012.)

Rod is much more than a versatile musician. He's a linguist with a specialty in languages of the Indian sub-continent. When I knew him he was studying for his Master's in Indian Studies at the University of Wisconsin. This photo shows him at a Peace Corps training program where he gave instruction in speaking Malayalam, the language of the Indian state of Kerala.


Rod's blindness seems more an attribute than a liability. It certainly hasn't been an obstacle in his careers as professor and musician. When I knew him in Madison he moved easily around campus and downtown, using his foldable "elephant thermometer" as much to warn people that he was sightless as to navigate his way. He told me he liked to run foot races and that he could "watch" tv, not just listen to the audio component. He'd pepper his conversation with visual idioms such as "see you later" and "I saw him (or her) the other day."

I'd often sit with Rod's wife, Rachel, at Glenn & Ann's, the bar where the backsteppers played. She told me about Rod's ability to cook, clean, and manage his life so independently that there seemed little difference between him and her sighted friends. She did say, however, that she was taken back the first time she visited his apartment during the evening. When she saw all the lights were out, she thought maybe Rod had forgotten their date and almost left without knocking. But he'd heard her approach and called out a welcome. After that, he said he tried to remember to put a light on when he thought it might be dark outside.

I remember driving Rod and Rachel to Minneapolis one weekend. She was many months pregnant and the two of them thought it best that she not drive that long way. They owned a VW Beetle which fitted us well enough but without a whole lot of room to spare. I can't recall the purpose of the trip. Possibly to attend an event at the Guthrie Theater, possibly to visit her parents, probably both.

An internet search turns up this clipping announcing Rod and Rachel's engagement.

{Moag-Foley engagement, Wyoming Reporter, Thurs, Feb 6, 1964}

If Rod is the most versatile of my three musicians of 1965, Tracy Nelson is the best singer. When young, both she and Rod used radio programs as their source of inspiration. In his case it was country and bluegrass music coming out of Nashville and vicinity. In hers it was blues coming from the clubs of Chicago's South Side. Both of them nurtured their talents somewhat against the grain — he as a kid from upstate New York with a bent for the music of Appalachia and she as a kid from central Wisconsin with a talent for singing Black urban blues. She was an undergraduate in the School of Social Work at the University of Wisconsin when he was there studying for his Master's in Indian Studies.

They share a love for music that has deep roots in regional traditions, a kind of historical authenticity. For Rod this manifests as a love for old time country/bluegrass and Texas swing. Tracy's passion is two-fold: first for the music which grew from African-American field hollars and guitar blues and expressed itself in urban ghettos of burgeoning industrial cities, and second for the same Appalachian sound which Rod admires. In an interview Tracy once revealed how unsuited she felt herself to be in the Hait-Ashbury atmosphere of the early 1970s. She felt uncomfortable with the culture of drugs, hip spiritualism, and pounding rock rhythms and at that time she moved from San Francisco to Nashville, left her blues rock band and made a country album.

This is how she looked at the time I met her.

{Tracy Nelson, ca. 1965 from simplybek on Tumblr }

In 1964 she was able to make her first album courtesy of Sam Charters who arranged a recording session with Prestige. I came to know her at about that time. My flatmate had met her — I forget how — and after they'd started seeing one another she'd drop by and sometimes to sing but mostly just to share some beers and talk. My flatmate played stride piano, picked up from listening to radio broadcasts from his childhood home in Kansas. When Tracy put together the group that was to back her at the Prestige recording date she included him as pianist.

The recording is Deep Are the Roots. Released in 1965, it contained songs from the blues greats of the 1920s and '30s, including Bessie Smith and Ma Rainey.


You can hear four 30-second teasers from that record in a sampler put out by Prestige called The Bluesville Years, Vol. 7: Blues Blue, Blues White. The teasers show that Tracy's voice was powerful then but not as strong as it would become later in her professional career. They display the harmonica playing of her friend Charlie Musselwhite and the piano of my flatmate.

Tracy sang at a place called The Pub in Madison, but I don't recall going there to see her perform.

There are quite a few videos of Tracy on YouTube. One features a song she wrote in 1968. It's from The Lonesome Pine Specials of 1987 (The Kentucky Center for the Performing Arts): Tracy Nelson - Down So Low. Another comes from the 22nd Annual Simi Valley Cajun & Blues Music Festival on Memorial Day Weekend, 2011: One More Mile (Muddy Waters) - Mannish Boys Revue with Tracy Nelson - Live in Simi Valley.

She sings both blues and country in snippets played during this interview on the American Routes program (radio station WWNO, Aug. 4, 2010). This interview, which includes an excellent and succinct overview of Tracy's career, brings out a side of her music I hadn't known about. After blues and country, she turned to R&B for a while. Some of the songs she sang at this time were covers of ones by Irma Thomas and Tracy worked with Irma at least once. You can hear her with Marcia Ball doing backup vocals on this video:


Tracy showed a more popular country style in a segment of the Prairie Home Companion show of June 16, 2001: Got A New Truck - Tracy Nelson and Band, Live from the Orpheum Theater in Memphis. Before the show Tracy participated in an interview that's available here: Tracy Nelson: Living Well, June 12, 2001, by Russ Ringsak.

This image shows Tracy's first country album (and the one that turned up in our attic).


A few days ago, on the occasion of Tracy's birthday, a favorite blogger of mine — Bent Sorensen — linked to two of her songs, one from the earliest country album and the other from her San Francisco band, Mother Earth: (1) Tracy Nelson: I Fall To Pieces - from Mother Earth Presents Tracy Nelson Country, 1969 and (2) Mother Earth: Mother Earth (Memphis Slim) - from Living With the Animals, 1968. Of the former Bent says Tracy's version is better than Patsy Cline’s original and of the latter he says Tracy is "one of the most underrated female singers of all time." He also points out that the latter feature "Makel Blumfeld" on lead guitar, that man being the great Mike Bloomfield. It also features Barry Goldberg on keyboards.

If Rod Moag and Tracy Nelson have much in common, neither, so far as I know, has any connection with Bill Evans. His place in this blog post is really about the act of another 1965 U of W friend, Elspeth Leacock, who (as I say) put Everybody Digs Bill Evans in my hands. She gave it to me after I'd admitted that I enjoyed Miles Davis's Kind of Blue and Sketches of Spain, but did not really have much else in the way of jazz likes. Or much knowledge. I certainly didn't know that Bill Evans played on the former and didn't notice there was no piano on the latter. I've always been grateful to Elspeth for introducing me to his music. I've collected his recordings ever since and they've given me pleasure for close on fifty years.

I can't recall how I came to know Elspeth but suspect we met via mutual friends Carole Deutch and Phil Buss. Phil was another Madison musician. He played and sang at the 609 Club and Nitty Gritty and he had a shop where he made high quality guitars. I recall a time when he took me out for some target practice using rifles and a pistol that he owned. Carole was a friend of his. In the late '60s she married a fellow history grad student who would later become Chairman of the Board at John Wiley & Sons.

This shows Carole in the Bernal Heights district of San Francisco in the early 1970s.

{source: San Francisco's Bernal Heights (Bernal History Project, Carl Nolte, Arcadia Publishing, 2007)}

Here is a guitar Phil made for his younger sister.

{P Buss, luthier, Fretted String Instrument Shop, Madison, Wisconsin. Made in 1964 for Mary Lynn Buss, image source: Vintage Instrument Dating}

Someone with the handle hansgy1 has put Everybody Digs Bill Evans on YouTube. I'd link to it, but I'm not sure hansgy1 obtained rights before uploading.

------------

Side notes:

1. Searching Phil brings up reminiscences from friends of his. One mentions some of the musicians who also played the Madison clubs in the mid-1960s, including Marshall Brickman, Danny Kalb, Eric Weissberg, and Paul Prestopino. I think they are all still performing; Phil died young: 15 June 1988, at the age of 49.

Here's the text of one reminiscence of Phil:
Nitty Gritty bar: Re: Marsh Shapiro, RIP

Post by snoqueen » Wed Dec 26, 2012 3:59 pm
His original Nitty Gritty was the greatest place downtown. I can picture sitting in there on a Sunday night in about 1974 listening to Phil Buss play "In The Pines" with pinball games jingling in the background. One time Phil had a bunch of friends sitting in and they jammed on Folsom Prison. It was one of those performances that lifted the roof off the building and I still get chills remembering how it just would not stop. You could tell when Marsh was happy -- he'd jump up on one of the picnic tables. He did on that night.

The Gritty hosted an amazing lineup of bands. I think the State Historical Society has a definitive collection of street posters from the era -- the beginning of "postering" -- and if someone was interested they could assemble a nice little Gritty retrospective in Marsh's memory.

Thanks to Marsh Shapiro for a fine little bar and some good times -- and that's a nice legacy.

2. The web page that contains the photo of Rod doing Peace Corps language training also includes a photo of trainees drinking beer, Blatz beer. In 1965 a 6-pack of that beer cost maybe $0.99 at the local supermarket (and if you saved your Green Stamps you might get it for less). Though that seems cheap, I didn't always have the cash to buy it. A pocket calendar I kept then contains the statement "flat broke" in the box for September 15, 1965. (In fact 99 cents was probably a fair price for that beer in current terms; using the CPI inflator shows that a 1965 dollar is now worth more than $7.00.)

Sunday, March 13, 2011

make me a pallet


Mississippi John Hurt, Make Me a Pallet on Your Floor
I've been listening to this over and over. Like good poetry it gains from repeated hearings. As others have pointed out, this is not mean blues, it's graceful, subtle, and sweet. The music is more complex than at first it seems. The voice is whiskey mellow and the phrasing is relaxed rather than intense.

Although this recording is an old friend, it hasn't lost any of its appeal through familiarity. I first heard John Hurt sing it back in 1964 when a bunch of us drove to Newport for the Blues Festival. With crowds of other happy people we slept on the beach, ate hot dogs, and soaked up music. As it happens you can find me in a photo of the audience listing to John Hurt that memorable time. The image appears on the sleeves of the LP record set that Vanguard issued some months later and it looks like this.

I'm located at about 11 o'clock next to my brother, by two college classmates, and behind my best friend and suitemate.


Mississippi John Hurt had a face that showed his soft-spoken gentleness and dignified, poised bearing. To me it also showed his resilience, something of the hardships he'd endured, and the patient endurance often seen in photos that show sharecroppers of his generation.

{image source: mleddy.blogspot.com}


{source: Ordinary finds}


{source: delta-slider.blogspot.com}

He was a field hand, later a share-cropper in a tiny hamlet called Avalon, Mississippi. Hardly anything remains of Avalon today. There had to be a country store because, with just a mule-drawn wagon or their own feet for transportation, most share-croppers couldn't survive without one, and the remains of that store can still be found in Avalon. There's hardly anything else — a few houses plus his old home, now the Mississippi John Hurt Museum which looks like this.

{museum: msjohnhurtmuseum.com}

Like most institutions in the Jim-Crow South, farming on shares was exploitive, but, within that harsh environment, it was also a repository of many rural virtues. Share-croppers could easily move their few possessions from one shack to another, seeking better land, better land-owners, better contracts regarding the provisions needed before planting and the division of proceeds after the crop was in. The work required families to work together, each member except the very youngest taking part in running their borrowed bit of farmstead. Having little or no money they bartered and, in hard times, tended to give one another unselfish communal support.

There were many men and women who grew up with memories of rich black soil warming their bare feet and hot sunshine making intense shadows in the crop rows as they hoed out weeds or picked off weevils. And many of them felt privileged to have lived through that time despite the recurrent periods of suffering they were forced to endure.[1] Hurt himself turned down opportunities to leave saying he "just never wanted to get away from home."[2] Though hours were long, the life was not one of unrelenting work. When very young, Hurt found time to teach himself to play a borrowed guitar and later developed his skill while doing music for Saturday night dances near home. Once "discovered" and recorded, he spent time in cities and festivals like the one I attended, but always returned home and, at the end of his life, died in Avalon as he had long lived there.

The lyrics to Make Me a Pallet give you no sense of the art he brings to their expression. The story is fairly routine in the country blues genre — a man and woman together, each seeking to hide from a jealous lover — but there's nothing salacious in Hurt's treatment of the theme. He asks for comfort not ecstasy. He's tired and will be happy to be bedded down low, warm and safe, away from cold sleet and snow. He wants to keep close, to be kept close.

Hurt uses the song's broad vowel sounds to express a longing for a temporary refuge. He makes wonderful use of its long "o" sounds — low, door, and floor, along with more, snow, and go. The repeated sounds, words, and phrases subtly alter with each iteration. In its many variations, the word me attains something special that I find difficult to express, particularly when held, as they are in the last two lines of the chorus.
Make Me A Pallet On Your Floor

Mississippi John Hurt

Make me down a pallet on your floor
Make me down
Make me a pallet down soft and low
Make me a pallet on your floor

Up the country forty miles or more
I'm goin up the country while there's cold sleet and snow
I'm goin up the country while there's cold sleet and snow
No telling how much further I may go

Just make me down
Make me down
Make me a pallet down soft and low
Make me a pallet on your floor

Well, sleeping, my back and shoulders tired
Well, sleeping, my back and shoulders tired
The way I'm sleeping my back and shoulders tired
Gonna turn over and try it on the side

Oh make me down
Make me down
Make me a pallet down soft and low
Make me a pallet on your floor

Don't you let my good girl catch you here
Don't let my good girl catch you here
Oh she might shoot you, like to cut and starve you too
No tellin what she might do

Yes make me down
Make me down
Make me a pallet down soft and low
Make me a pallet on your floor

Make it baby close behind your door
Make it baby close behind your door
Make me a pallet close behind your door
Make it where your good man'll never go

Oh make me down
Make me down
Make me a pallet on your floor
Make me a pallet on your floor
-----------

Here are some photos that Dorothea Lange and Marion Post Wolcott took for the Farm Security Administration between 1936 and 1939. All come from collections in the Prints and Photos Division of the Library of Congress.


{Mississippi Delta Negro children by Dorothea Lange, 1936 July}


{Sharecropper's cabin and sharecropper's wife, ten miles south of Jackson, Mississippi, by Dorothea Lange, 1937 June}


{Negro sharecropper and wife. Mississippi. They have no tools, stock, equipment, or garden. By Dorothea Lange, 1937 June-July}


{Feet of Negro cotton hoer near Clarksdale, Mississippi, by Dorothea Lange, 1937 June}


{Negroes fishing in creek near cotton plantations outside Belzoni, Mississippi, by Marion Post Wolcott, 1939 Oct}

-------------

Notes:

[1] I've done a number of blog posts on aspects of share-cropping, including these: [2] The quote is given in the wikipedia article on MJH. It is taken from Lawrence Cohen's essay accompaying Avalon Blues: The Complete 1928 Okeh Recordings. (Columbia/Legacy, CD, 1996)

Tuesday, July 06, 2010

grazing

For web pages that lack RSS or ATOM feeds I use a little desktop app called webmon to discover what's been updated since I last checked. Most of the sites are tubmblr microblogs in the soup.io camp out of Austria.

Here's some of the stuff I found during this morning's grazing:


{Willie Nelson — Listen to Willie's Shotgun Willie on kivafree.}


{Wanda Landowska (July 5, 1879 – 1959) was a Polish (later a naturalized French citizen) harpsichordist whose performances, teaching, recordings and writings played a large role in reviving the popularity of the harpsichord in the early 20th century. She was the first person to record Bach’s Goldberg Variations on the harpsichord (1931). Photo of Landowska by Herbert Gehr, 1949 - LIFE}


{Albrecht Dürer 1471-1528; A Young Hare 1502}


{There's no caption for this photo; I like how it succeeds even though it doesn't have the usual aesthetic qualities.}


{This is by Nikanorovich Dubovskoy; I don't know where.}


{Some of the soup.io microblogs I follow are run by designers whose taste is severe, like this.}


{This comes from our local weekly freepaper, the Gazette. The caption: "Celebrating Independence Day the Takoma Park way. Thousands attend city's biggest annual event, including Fourth of July parade."}


{This shows a funicular in Lisbon: Elevador da Bica.}


{From a popular urban decay page by someone called ~grigjr.}


{This is called "A Moment Suspended In Time" by *angelreich.}


{Analogies on xkcd}


{The caption: "French Soldier with Gas Mask, 1914."}


{No caption given (or needed).}

This is typical of quotes that the microblogs sometimes contain:
Despite the title, the Heävy Mëtal Ümlaut is sometimes used in music genres besides metäl. Othèr unnæcessåry diácrîtiçal mârks, Faцx Cyяillic, and gratuitøus slashed ø's alsø shów up occâsioñally in mûsic, althøugh theý're Иot as pøpular or icônic of metäl as the ümläüt. Excessive use of this trope becomes £33†.
— Heävy Mëtal Ümlaut - Television Tropes & Idioms


{This says: "I want to do with you what spring does with cherry trees. Pablo Neruda."}


{Kingfisher}


Sources:
http://sealmaiden.tumblr.com/
http://i12bent.tumblr.com/
http://web.soup.io/
http://soup.johl.io/
http://halberd.tumblr.com/
http://ashe.soup.io/
http://kitchensoup.saigonmarket.org/
http://charlottinka.soup.io/
http://dansemacabre.soup.io/
http://fansinaflashbulb.wordpress.com/
http://gazette.net/montgomery/

Thursday, December 31, 2009

swell party

I like to wear my tux New Year's Eve & I'm donning it tonight for a wedding reception that's also a new year's party.



At the end of the piece, Satch says, "Now we're get'n warm."

Here's a bit of Anthony Lane's piece on Grace Kelly in the New Yorker:
It is customary to denigrate “High Society” by comparing it with its parent, “The Philadelphia Story,” but I knew the child first, when I was a child, too, and nothing can undo the movies that we are led to in our youth, or the skein of impressions that they leave. I remember my mother explaining to me, drawing on who knows what store of apocrypha, that Prince Rainier had watched the scene of his wife-to-be, droopy with drink, being lugged through the moonlight in Sinatra’s arms, both of them in towelling robes, and that His Serene Highness had bridled at the outrage and declared that her works be outlawed, henceforth and on pain of death, within the bounds of his kingdom. This struck me as precisely how a jealous monarch should behave, and the twin sense of Kelly as both sovereign and subversive was planted in my brain. I was told how remarkable it was that Kelly had deigned to sing, and therefore how natural it was that her yacht-borne duet with Crosby, “True Love,” should have sold a million copies on record. She fondles the end of his squeezebox as they harmonize, but that, I suspect, went over my head, as did their bizarre exchange beside the swimming pool:
“Gee, I didn’t know that you wanted a husband who would be kind of a high priest to a virgin goddess.”
“Oh, stop using those foul words.”
Best of all, my mother pointed out that when Crosby sang “I Love You, Samantha” he did everything—folded his handkerchief, tied his bow tie, wound his wristwatch, filled his cigarette case, and donned his tuxedo, crooning all the while—without a cut. I had never heard of a cut before, or a take. (And, if there is any actor alive today who could reach that extreme pitch of relaxation, I’ve yet to see him.) When the cut finally comes, it is to Kelly, listening at the window of her bedroom. She walks away, overwhelmed; we follow her, then pause, and pull politely back, as she turns and stands there, sheathed in her Oriental robe of yellow-gold. Downstairs, Louis Armstrong laughs and says, “Now we’re gettin’ warm.”
-- Two sides of Grace Kelly
High Society intro part 1

High Society intro part 2

High Society - Well, Did You Evah?

What a Swell Party this is

Who Wants to be a Millionaire

Now You Has Jazz

True Love

Original Trailer 1956

You're Sensational

Saturday, December 19, 2009

music and books in the journal of Hélène Berr

Hélène Berr was a brilliant student and talented classical violinist. She was first in her class at a small Parisian private school, the Cours Boutet de Monvel taking honors in both philosophy and in Latin and modern languages. Entering the Sorbonne in 1938, she received her first degree in English language and literature, again with honors. In 1942 she registered for a doctorate at the Sorbonne with a thesis topic of Keats's Hellenism. She worked in the library at the Sorbonne and continued to attend lectures and seminars until prevented by the risk of being arrested and deported. She also took music lessons as long as she could and both played and listened to music with friends and relatives.

Her Journal records many of the books she read and gives extracts from ones that meant most to her, particularly poems of Keats and Shelley and Les Thibault by Roger Martin du Gard.

Here are some of the books and pieces of music of which she wrote.

Books Quoted or Mentioned in The Journal of Hélène Berr
=====================

Music She Played or Heard

Beethoven Schumann second violin sonata: Schumann 2nd Violin Sonata: 1st mov. Gidon Kremer vl. Martha Argerich pf.

Bach 1st violin sonata: Nathan Milstein playing Bach Sonata #1, Adagio and Fugue only.

Ravel Trio: Audio recording of Ravel's Piano Trio by the Claremont Trio from the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, complete in MP3 format

Cesar Franck Sonata for Violin: Vadim Repin and Nikolai Lugansky Play Franck's Violin Sonata 2004, in Tokyo, 1st mov., 2nd mov., 3rd mov., 4th mov.

A personal note:

The Budapest Quartet was the first chamber group whose work I came to know and love. The version of the group that was active during World War II can be heard in two Beethoven Quartets listed above: Quartet No. 7, 1st mov. and Quartet No. 15, in A minor, Op. 132, Adagio, Heilige Dankgesang


{The Budapest String Quartet, from an early concert at the Coolidge Auditorium, Library of Congress; source: Library of Congress}


Tuesday, October 13, 2009

flow my tears


The image above is a web post entire by Daniel Merlin Goodbrey on E-merl.com. His immediate reference, on October 8th, was discovery of water on the moon and the spacecraft crash into the lunar surface scheduled for the day following.

The literary reference is primarily to Philip K. Dick's Sci-Fi novel Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said. Dick's reference, for the title and dark ambience of the work, was an anonymous poem from around the 16th century used by John Dowland in his music for lute and voice, Flow my Tears.

The belief in a moon made of green cheese is ancient, fanciful, fabulous, proverbial, generically mythical and widely known.

It's also a matter of poetic expression. Take for example:
Civile Conversation

They make them believe,
according to the Proverbe,
that gloe wormes are lanterns,
and that the moon is made of greene Cheese.

-Stefano Guazzo, 1574
The Dowland is in current repertoire: Andreas Scholl does it well:


Here are the words he sings:
Flow, my tears

Flow my teares fall from your springs,
Exilde for ever: Let me morne
Where nights black bird hir sad infamy sings,
There let me live forlorne.

Downe vaine lights shine you no more,
No nights are dark enough for those
That in dispaire their last fortunes deplore,
Light doth but shame disclose.

Never may my woes be relieved,
Since pittie is fled,
And teares, and sighes, and grones
My wearie days of all joyes have deprived.

From the highest spire of contentment,
My fortune is throwne,
And feare, and griefe, and paine
For my deserts, are my hopes since hope is gone.

Hark you shadowes that in dakrnesse dwell,
Learn to contemne light,
Happy they that in hell
Feele not the worlds despite.



{source: wikipedia}


{John Dowland; source: last.fm}


{Andreas Scholl; source: hometheaterhifi}


{source: eons.com}


---------

Afterthoughts:

Andreas Scholl has a surprisingly deep speaking voice and can sing baritone as well as counter-tenor. He talks about his voice here: Great Performers 2009-2010: Andreas Scholl talks about countertenors

Daniel Merlin Goodbrey says he is a comic creator and new media lecturer based out of St Albans, England. He says, "E-merl.com is where I catalogue my experiments in fiction and the comics form. If that all sounds a little dry, don’t worry - I’m sure something horribly violent and amusing will happen if you stick around long enough."

Thursday, October 08, 2009

Vivaldi on squeeze box

Accordions were popular when I was young. I remember an early evening scene from about 1950 near the tennis courts of our village's municipal park. The event was a local talent show in which a couple of girls roughly junior high or high school age showed off their ability on the instrument. From the vantage point of my eight-year-old self, the instruments looked half their size and much too heavy for them. I think they played a couple of popular tunes of the time.

In the U.S. during that period, I've since learned, there were more accordion students than piano students. However it wouldn't be long before Bill Haley and the Comets released Rock Around the Clock and soon after that the accordion was something you saw on the Lawrence Welk Show, which grand-dad was watching. Wikipedia's article on accordion music genres gives more info on this subject.

Like my friends I grew to see the instrument as the ultimate of un-cool. And in this, as with so very much that was thoughtlessly dismissive in my young life, I eventually managed to reevaluate my early prejudice and no longer recoil from, actually welcome, the presence of an accordion in, say, the band playing at a wedding reception.

All this came to mind this morning when I came across a link to a Youtube video of a young man playing the "Presto" section of "Summer" from Vivaldi's Four Seasons.

I'm not giving that link since it was accompanied by an annoying commercial promotion. Instead, a bit of searching turned up this plain version, marred only by the bizarre title given it by the uploader:


{Presto section of Summer from The Four Seasons. The young man is apparently a Romanian named Aleksandr Hrustevič (Александр Хрустевич).}


Youtube turns out to have quite a few versions of this piece on that instrument. I don't suppose it will surprise that they're almost all from central and eastern Europe. Here is a smattering of the many:


{Same, played by Ventsi Kolev in Plovdiv, Bulgaria.}


Quite a few are mobile-phone videos of street performers, such as:


{Solo performance by a street player in Rosental, Muenchen, Germany.}


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fEy9EwiBCmw

{Same, by three guys in a subway station in Sofia, Bulgaria.}


{Same, by an accordion quartet; performers and location not identified.}

And some are performances with other instruments like this:


{The whole movement, i.e., first movement, Allegro non molto of Concerto No. 2 in G minor, Op. 8, RV 315, "L'estate" (Summer), in a 1998 performance, played on three balalaikas and an accordion (from Russia).}




{Squeeze Box, a song written in 1974 by Pete Townshend, performed by The Who; source: wikipedia}


{source: someparade.blogspot.com}


{source: hiddenlosangeles.com}


{source: learning2share.blogspot.com}


{source: kdmkc.com/franknnancy.htm}


{At Pike Place Market, Seattle - a modern-day accondionist; source: www.dailyplunge.com}

Saturday, August 22, 2009

bill and miles, miles and bill

In my college years I had a couple favorite jazz albums: Sketches of Spain and Kind of Blue, both by Miles Davis. Many (many) other college students shared my affection for them and, though you might think our numbers marked us as somewhat unhip, there was no sense of this snobbishness at the time. The albums are still favorites; the latter, in fact, being the best-selling jazz album of all time.
{photo by Francis Wolff; image source: performingarts.ucla.edu}



As it happens, that — most popular — one was first issued just about exactly 50 years ago. The historian, Ralph E. Luker, celebrates the fact and gives this link:


There's a great deal written about Miles* and about this album. A current book — The Blue Moment: Miles Davis’s Kind of Blue and the Remaking of Modern Music By Richard Williams — is reviewed in FT and the New Stateman, the former giving brief and the latter somewhat more extensive details about the work and its time.
{image credit: zm-jazzrock.blogspot.com}





One academic critic, David Yearsley,** has written a tribute to the album which both acknowledges its greatness and gives some interesting side notes, particularly one involving another favorite jazz musician of mine, Bill Evans who would have celebrated his 80th birthday last week had his drug habit not killed him some 30 odd years ago.
{image source: wikipedia}


Yearsley points out that Evans had played on earlier albums that Miles cut and had since gone on to form his own group. Miles got him to come back for the Kind of Blue recording date. As Yearsley explains, Wynton Kelly, Davis's new pianist, was surprised to find Bill at the piano when he showed up for the first of the two recording sessions. Davis had Kelly play on only one cut of the album, "Freddie the Freeloader." Bill played on all the others and later wrote up the liner notes. For this work he got union scale, amounting to $64.67 for the day. Yearsley writes:
Given how much money the record made, [the vast amount Miles received] seems especially unjust in the case of Evans, whose harmonic sense and aesthetic vision were so crucial to the shape of the album, even though all compositions are credited to Davis, who was never shy or in the least apologetic about appropriating the work of others.*** How much his creation of the ostinato to the final track on the album, “Flamenco Sketches” is worth is hard to say, as are the tentative musing of Evans and Chambers that serpentine into the arid landscapes of “So What.” . . . Evans’s thing was never my kind of blue, but that unmistakable, searching sound so imbues the overall sense and effect of the album that the disparity between the earnings of Davis and Evans is far bigger even than the numbers of zeroes suggests. The blues have their price, too. The ghost in Evans’ melancholy chords will haunt Davis’s masterpiece recording in eternity. Given how much money the record made, this seems especially unjust in the case of Evans, whose harmonic sense and aesthetic vision were so crucial to the shape of the album, even though all compositions are credited to Davis, who was never shy or in the least apologetic about appropriating the work of others.

The ghost in Evans’ melancholy chords will haunt Davis’s masterpiece recording in eternity.**** . . .

Much is now made of the spontaneity of the recording, how all was done in the studio without rehearsal or reflection, how the tunes were new to all and that the entire effort is akin, as Bill Evans put it in his liner notes, to the “Japanese visual art in which the artist is forced to be spontaneous, [and] must paint on a thin stretched parchment with a special brush and black water pan in such a way that an unnatural or interrupted stroke will destroy the line or break through the parchment.”




{image source: undertheradarmag.com}


{image source: shareadictos.com}




Additional Links:

----------
Notes

*The wikipedia article provides a good starting point.

**His bio squib: David Yearsley teaches at Cornell University. A long-time contributor to the Anderson Valley Advertiser, he is author of Bach and the Meanings of Counterpoint His latest CD, “All Your Cares Beguile: Songs and Sonatas from Baroque London”, has just been released by Musica Omnia. He can be reached at dgy2@cornell.edu

***"Bill Evans assumed co-credit with Davis for "Blue in Green" when recording it on his Portrait in Jazz album. The Davis estate acknowledged Evans' authorship in 2002." — Wapedia v Wiki: Kind of Blue.

****To some extent, Miles wjould later acknowledge his musical debt to Bill. According to the wikipedia entry for Evans,
Davis wrote in his autobiography, "Bill had this quiet fire that I loved on piano. The way he approached it, the sound he got, was like crystal notes or sparkling water cascading down from some clear waterfall." Additionally, Davis said, "I've sure learned a lot from Bill Evans. He plays the piano the way it should be played." [In 1959] he recorded Everybody Digs Bill Evans, documenting the previously unheard-of meditative sound he was exploring at the time. However, he came back to the sextet at Davis' request to record the jazz classic Kind of Blue in early 1959. Evans' contribution to the album was overlooked for years; in addition to cowriting the song "Blue in Green", he had also already developed the ostinato figure from the track "Flamenco Sketches" on the 1958 solo recording "Peace Piece" from his album Everybody Digs Bill Evans. Evans also penned the heralded liner notes for Kind of Blue, comparing the improvisation of jazz to Zen art. By the fall of 1959, he had started his own trio.