Yeah, I should have checked the fine print on your links, Scott. Posting a review from before his tenure with Lincoln to prove that she wasn't mentioned in almost every MC review is a bit flakey. Obviously, I meant during and since his time with her. I think that was far more important to exposing his talents and elevating his profile than time with Art Taylor, whom I've heard of but never heard, heathen that I am. He probably didn't mention her in his high school yearbook, either. The discussion wasn't about whether or not he was 'an already accomplished artist' in 1994, but anyway...
let's get something straight--I love that you appreciate the work of mine you've heard, and I think you're a good guy. But you fight too hard, too quickly sometimes. And you seem to have a strong need to alter other peoples' comments when you respond to them. For example:
"Did he intentionally put her name in the title of his new album strictly for marketing purposes? Sorry, I still don't buy it."
Strictly for marketing purposes? No one ever said that, especially not me. Not even close. I was very careful to explain away this suspicion too.
"If nothing else, let's look at the simple fact that she is no longer with us. To use the name of the deceased for marketing purposes is despicable. Do you not agree?"
I absolutely do not agree that doing a tribute to your deceased beloved ex-mentor is despicable. Where do you get this silly moral code? Anyone else can do a tribute to her, but HE can't because it's despicable? Are you pulling my leg now? That might be it...
There have been hundreds of albums featuring living artists performing the compositions of dead artists. Maybe thousands. I hope there will one day be at least one that focuses on my own compositions when I'm gone, and in fact I'm this close to setting aside some money and a suggested track list for one of my favorite trios in the event that I'm survived by them. Do you actually think there is a living artist who wouldn't be tickled at the prospect of a posthumous tribute album?
What do you think Glenn Gould playing JS Bach's "Goldberg Variations" was? Get real--people revisit the work of dead composers constantly, and no one bats an eye about it. As well they shouldn't. And in the case of a former band member like Cary (better, Uli?), I think those albums have more emotional impact than some stranger doing it. We know he was informed about her likes and dislikes and her musical sensibilities. Like I said, he's earned the right to be listened to, when it comes to telling her story.
There really is no other way to say it. It's a beautiful idea, and also one that I'm sure the record label hopes will give potential customers just the nudge thy need to pull the trigger. And I bet Cary hopes so too. I'm not saying it's the ONLY reason he did it, nor even the main reason. But it was probably in the top 3 or 4 reasons for everyone concerned.
YOU DON'T GO THROUGH WHAT IT TAKES TO RECORD AND RELEASE A CD IF YOU DON'T THINK IT WILL SELL. Unless you've got money to burn, that is.
Branford Marsalis blindfold test
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Re: Branford Marsalis blindfold test
Ever hear this album? If so, you've heard Art Taylor.Jazzooo wrote:Art Taylor, whom I've heard of but never heard, heathen that I am
Re: Branford Marsalis blindfold test
Scott Dolan wrote:You aren't actually reading my posts for comprehension, so let's just end it here.
Peace, Doug.
I think we could all be accused of that (me included). Don't avoid looking in the mirror on this one.
"If humans used their tongues for cleaning themselves rather than talking, the world would be a much better place." - Henri, Le Chat Noir
Re: Branford Marsalis blindfold test
"Trust me, I'm my own worst critic."
Not while I'm around!
Not while I'm around!
Re: Branford Marsalis blindfold test
This discussion seems to have reached a conclusion of sorts, but I was reading a long interview of Ellery Eskelin and part of it was doing a sort of blindfold test of different versions of the tunes that were on Ellery's most recent organ trio album. What struck me was the difference in respect for the music that Ellery exudes, here's an excerpt that relates to Branford:
Branford Marsalis Quartet, “My Ideal” (from FOUR MFs PLAYIN’ TUNES, Marsalis Music, rec. 2012) (Branford Marsalis, tenor saxophone; Joey Calderazzo, piano; Eric Revis, bass; Justin Faulkner, drums)
EE: This is a different chord than I’m used to hearing at that part. I remember thinking that when I heard it the first time. I wonder if that was a decision on their part to change it, or if it’s a different of changes that I know, but that’s interesting.
He’s using his sound very effectively on this. From the very opening notes, it kinda grabs you by the throat, his tone. He’s really connected sonically with his delivery and everything with this song. I appreciated that the first time I heard this.
Do you have the Coleman Hawkins version on there? Just put that on for a couple of minutes.
Coleman Hawkins acc. by Leonard Feather’s Esquire All Stars, “My Ideal” (from COLEMAN HAWKINS: THE BEBOP YEARS, Proper, rec. 1943) (Coleman Hawkins, tenor saxophone; Cootie Williams, trumpet; Edmond Hall, clarinet; Art Tatum, piano; Al Casey, guitar; Oscar Pettiford, bass; Sid Catlett, drums)
EE: I’ll say this: Branford was impressive, but Coleman Hawkins makes me want to cry. And that’s taking nothing away from Branford.
JW: What do you mean?
EE: It’s just a different... I don’t know. Okay, you can turn it off. I just wanted to touch on it in that context. I don’t mean to pit those two. Compared to Coleman Hawkins, I mean, come on, the conversation’s over. It takes nothing away from anybody to talk about how great Coleman Hawkins sounds and delivers that.
JW: This is something new for you, right? 20 years ago you probably would’ve been more interested in Branford.
EE: Yes. Because Branford, to my ear, what I was hearing there was much more in the world of...there’s a certain kind of punch in his delivery that was more like Sonny Rollins. That sort of bold, strong, brash and yet very full sound. I was impressed by his tone on that. To me, it’s an association that I have with a different period in the music. And my appreciation of Coleman Hawkins now...I don’t know when that was recorded – do you?
JW: I don’t. I think it was the ‘40s. [December 4, 1943.]
EE: He’s bringing with him his experiences from the beginning of what we often trace as the jazz tenor saxophone. And you’re right: that is new to me; my appreciation, my love of it is very new. And maybe that’s why I get so excited just to hear a few notes. Because it is something that I think I appreciated more as an idea when I was coming up. In the ‘60s and ‘70s, that music sounded old-fashioned. It sounded like some kind of earlier version of what we were trying to do, or what I heard people doing that was hipper or newer or more developed. In some ways, I maybe felt like this earlier music was somehow, not obsolete, but like a relic of its time, and that it had been improved upon somehow by virtue of all the great players that came since then, all the people that I was interested in who made their mark in the ‘50s and ‘60s — which is more where I place what Branford was doing on that cut.
I’ve told this story before, but it’s worth mentioning in context that my discovery of this earlier music came in a way kind of accidentally or unintentionally. It came through a process of trying to change my sound on the saxophone.
JW: Because you got a different instrument?
EE: The process started before I got the new horn — or the old horn, I should say. I had been playing a more modern instrument, a Selmer Mark VI, and over time began to feel like my sound was not as full and deep and rich as I would like it to be. So I started, even with that instrument, trying to play it a little differently. One thing led to another. I changed my mouthpiece; ultimately I changed the horn and bought a 1927 Conn. And this 1927 Conn was so different from this 1960s Selmer than I had been playing that I felt like I was starting over from the beginning in learning how to play the saxophone again.
I didn’t know who or what to turn to for guidance. So I thought, well, Lester Young did pretty good in terms of playing this thing in tune and getting a sound out of it. So let me go back and listen to Lester Young records, and [other] records of guys who played these horns and see if I can’t get any hints by listening to this music that might clue me in on how to approach playing this instrument so I can control it.
Because it was totally out of control; it was like playing the violin. It was like, where are the notes, the pitch — it’s everywhere. But that was also the beauty of it, because you had so much flexibility with these instruments. So after listening from a purely technical standpoint, after a period of several months of immersing myself into this music recorded in the ‘20s, ‘30s and ‘40s, listening for no other reason but to try figure out how did they get that sound — not because I wanted to sound like that stylistically, but they had a certain richness to their tone... I felt like if I can get some of that richness in what I do, it’ll make my sound better, to more how I like it. But I’m still gonna play the way I play; I’m not gonna try to play like Lester Young. That was not my intention.
I wasn’t interested in the style or anything. But because of that, because I wasn’t hung up about the style, because I was listening from a technical standpoint, it allowed the music itself to come in without the same kind of filters that I’d had before — those filters of old-fashioned-ness, obsoleteness. Those filters I wasn’t even thinking about on those terms whatsoever. And because of that, the music kind of got in me in a way that it never had before.
After about three months, I realized that I was getting quite emotionally attached to this music and that it was sounding exciting. I was hearing the creativity that went into it and it was starting to sound just as modern as anything that could’ve been played today. I was astonished by that, and I was trying to figure out why. Ultimately, I came to feel that that music was complete in and of itself; you couldn’t improve upon it if you wanted to. It was never made obsolete — that was just a fallacy in my mind because of the cultural generation that I grew up in. That was just the prevailing mode of thought. In the ‘60s, it was all about new and improved. Old shit? Nah, we’re done with that — it’s all about new. We’re in the space age, technology, blah blah blah. And that just affected how you thought about everything, music included.
Now when I hear Lester Young or Ben Webster or Coleman Hawkins or any of these musicians, it’s such an amazing experience to hear that as new music knowing that it was done in the ‘30s or the ‘40s or whenever and realizing the history. It’s completely mind-blowing.
JW: Do you listen to your peers at all? You had heard that Branford Marsalis...
EE: I do. I keep up with what’s going on. I’m not gonna cut myself off.
JW: How do you do that? Do you go to shows?
EE: Any way I can. It’s not that hard. I’m out there playing; I’m curious. I hear people, especially when we go out and travel on the road. You play festivals and you get to hear people. If I hear a person’s name a couple of times or if a person that I know says a person’s name — like, you should hear so and so — I take that seriously and I go out of my way.
I think especially in the last five or ten years, due to the fact that now I’ve been around in New York for 30 years, there’s a whole new generation or two that is younger than me who are doing great things and different things. I’ve been making an effort to find out who’s doing what, and in fact calling people to play with me. Because I think that’s it’s not only important on a lot of levels — it’s just great. I’m in New York with people coming up thinking about things different than me because of their experience. That’s just as valuable to me as reaching back to Coleman Hawkins or whoever it is, being up on who’s doing what now.
I’d like to feel that I’m pretty much in the know as to what’s happening today, but I’d say in the past three years 90 percent of my listening has been to music recorded prior to 1950.
Branford Marsalis Quartet, “My Ideal” (from FOUR MFs PLAYIN’ TUNES, Marsalis Music, rec. 2012) (Branford Marsalis, tenor saxophone; Joey Calderazzo, piano; Eric Revis, bass; Justin Faulkner, drums)
EE: This is a different chord than I’m used to hearing at that part. I remember thinking that when I heard it the first time. I wonder if that was a decision on their part to change it, or if it’s a different of changes that I know, but that’s interesting.
He’s using his sound very effectively on this. From the very opening notes, it kinda grabs you by the throat, his tone. He’s really connected sonically with his delivery and everything with this song. I appreciated that the first time I heard this.
Do you have the Coleman Hawkins version on there? Just put that on for a couple of minutes.
Coleman Hawkins acc. by Leonard Feather’s Esquire All Stars, “My Ideal” (from COLEMAN HAWKINS: THE BEBOP YEARS, Proper, rec. 1943) (Coleman Hawkins, tenor saxophone; Cootie Williams, trumpet; Edmond Hall, clarinet; Art Tatum, piano; Al Casey, guitar; Oscar Pettiford, bass; Sid Catlett, drums)
EE: I’ll say this: Branford was impressive, but Coleman Hawkins makes me want to cry. And that’s taking nothing away from Branford.
JW: What do you mean?
EE: It’s just a different... I don’t know. Okay, you can turn it off. I just wanted to touch on it in that context. I don’t mean to pit those two. Compared to Coleman Hawkins, I mean, come on, the conversation’s over. It takes nothing away from anybody to talk about how great Coleman Hawkins sounds and delivers that.
JW: This is something new for you, right? 20 years ago you probably would’ve been more interested in Branford.
EE: Yes. Because Branford, to my ear, what I was hearing there was much more in the world of...there’s a certain kind of punch in his delivery that was more like Sonny Rollins. That sort of bold, strong, brash and yet very full sound. I was impressed by his tone on that. To me, it’s an association that I have with a different period in the music. And my appreciation of Coleman Hawkins now...I don’t know when that was recorded – do you?
JW: I don’t. I think it was the ‘40s. [December 4, 1943.]
EE: He’s bringing with him his experiences from the beginning of what we often trace as the jazz tenor saxophone. And you’re right: that is new to me; my appreciation, my love of it is very new. And maybe that’s why I get so excited just to hear a few notes. Because it is something that I think I appreciated more as an idea when I was coming up. In the ‘60s and ‘70s, that music sounded old-fashioned. It sounded like some kind of earlier version of what we were trying to do, or what I heard people doing that was hipper or newer or more developed. In some ways, I maybe felt like this earlier music was somehow, not obsolete, but like a relic of its time, and that it had been improved upon somehow by virtue of all the great players that came since then, all the people that I was interested in who made their mark in the ‘50s and ‘60s — which is more where I place what Branford was doing on that cut.
I’ve told this story before, but it’s worth mentioning in context that my discovery of this earlier music came in a way kind of accidentally or unintentionally. It came through a process of trying to change my sound on the saxophone.
JW: Because you got a different instrument?
EE: The process started before I got the new horn — or the old horn, I should say. I had been playing a more modern instrument, a Selmer Mark VI, and over time began to feel like my sound was not as full and deep and rich as I would like it to be. So I started, even with that instrument, trying to play it a little differently. One thing led to another. I changed my mouthpiece; ultimately I changed the horn and bought a 1927 Conn. And this 1927 Conn was so different from this 1960s Selmer than I had been playing that I felt like I was starting over from the beginning in learning how to play the saxophone again.
I didn’t know who or what to turn to for guidance. So I thought, well, Lester Young did pretty good in terms of playing this thing in tune and getting a sound out of it. So let me go back and listen to Lester Young records, and [other] records of guys who played these horns and see if I can’t get any hints by listening to this music that might clue me in on how to approach playing this instrument so I can control it.
Because it was totally out of control; it was like playing the violin. It was like, where are the notes, the pitch — it’s everywhere. But that was also the beauty of it, because you had so much flexibility with these instruments. So after listening from a purely technical standpoint, after a period of several months of immersing myself into this music recorded in the ‘20s, ‘30s and ‘40s, listening for no other reason but to try figure out how did they get that sound — not because I wanted to sound like that stylistically, but they had a certain richness to their tone... I felt like if I can get some of that richness in what I do, it’ll make my sound better, to more how I like it. But I’m still gonna play the way I play; I’m not gonna try to play like Lester Young. That was not my intention.
I wasn’t interested in the style or anything. But because of that, because I wasn’t hung up about the style, because I was listening from a technical standpoint, it allowed the music itself to come in without the same kind of filters that I’d had before — those filters of old-fashioned-ness, obsoleteness. Those filters I wasn’t even thinking about on those terms whatsoever. And because of that, the music kind of got in me in a way that it never had before.
After about three months, I realized that I was getting quite emotionally attached to this music and that it was sounding exciting. I was hearing the creativity that went into it and it was starting to sound just as modern as anything that could’ve been played today. I was astonished by that, and I was trying to figure out why. Ultimately, I came to feel that that music was complete in and of itself; you couldn’t improve upon it if you wanted to. It was never made obsolete — that was just a fallacy in my mind because of the cultural generation that I grew up in. That was just the prevailing mode of thought. In the ‘60s, it was all about new and improved. Old shit? Nah, we’re done with that — it’s all about new. We’re in the space age, technology, blah blah blah. And that just affected how you thought about everything, music included.
Now when I hear Lester Young or Ben Webster or Coleman Hawkins or any of these musicians, it’s such an amazing experience to hear that as new music knowing that it was done in the ‘30s or the ‘40s or whenever and realizing the history. It’s completely mind-blowing.
JW: Do you listen to your peers at all? You had heard that Branford Marsalis...
EE: I do. I keep up with what’s going on. I’m not gonna cut myself off.
JW: How do you do that? Do you go to shows?
EE: Any way I can. It’s not that hard. I’m out there playing; I’m curious. I hear people, especially when we go out and travel on the road. You play festivals and you get to hear people. If I hear a person’s name a couple of times or if a person that I know says a person’s name — like, you should hear so and so — I take that seriously and I go out of my way.
I think especially in the last five or ten years, due to the fact that now I’ve been around in New York for 30 years, there’s a whole new generation or two that is younger than me who are doing great things and different things. I’ve been making an effort to find out who’s doing what, and in fact calling people to play with me. Because I think that’s it’s not only important on a lot of levels — it’s just great. I’m in New York with people coming up thinking about things different than me because of their experience. That’s just as valuable to me as reaching back to Coleman Hawkins or whoever it is, being up on who’s doing what now.
I’d like to feel that I’m pretty much in the know as to what’s happening today, but I’d say in the past three years 90 percent of my listening has been to music recorded prior to 1950.
"If humans used their tongues for cleaning themselves rather than talking, the world would be a much better place." - Henri, Le Chat Noir
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Re: Branford Marsalis blindfold test
pig pen wrote:I was reading a long interview of Ellery Eskelin and part of it was doing a sort of blindfold test of different versions of the tunes that were on Ellery's most recent organ trio album. What struck me was the difference in respect for the music that Ellery exudes, here's an excerpt that relates to Branford:
Here's a link to the whole interview by Ellery's student Jacob Wunsch (JW in the transcript); it was posted just a few days ago at Do the Math. And Ellery wrote about the interview and linked to it at his blog Musings from a Saxophonist.
As Scott might say, "Werd to your mutha," pig pen! Thanks for posting the interview excerpt.pig pen wrote:What struck me was the difference in respect for the music that Ellery exudes
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Re: Branford Marsalis blindfold test
Carrying on with the Ellery Eskelin theme, please remember that Ellery has his own thread on jazztalk. Click on the hyperlink below.
Meet Ellery Eskelin
Meet Ellery Eskelin
"Timing is everything" - Peppercorn
http://500px.com/rpthorne
http://500px.com/rpthorne
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