Messin’ With the Kid
One of my posts apparently became the subject of a minor kerfluffle while I was away, so I thought I’d celebrate my return to bloggerdom with an appropriately pedantic response.
The offending piece – “Begrudgingly Submitted for Your Approval: My Annual Top Ten List,” in which I bemoan what I perceive as a lack of imagination among critics when compiling their annual end-of-the-year Top 10 lists – contained the following passage:
“How, for example, does John Hollenbeck’s Eternal Interlude—a perfectly fine, skillfully written yet formally conventional big band album released on a small indie label — show up on so many lists, while Graham Collier’s directing 14 Jackson Pollocks—a visionary and inspired work that’s utterly unlike any big band album released since the death of Gil Evans (except for, I assume, those made by Collier himself) — has yet to appear on a single one that I’ve seen?”
That paragraph stuck in the craw of David Adler, who wrote the following when discussing a separate blog post by Collier:
“Collier quotes my JJA colleague Chris Kelsey in calling John Hollenbeck’s Eternal Interlude ‘a formally conventional big band album,’ which nearly sent my morning coffee through my nostrils. If Hollenbeck is conventional, then maybe his friend and collaborator Meredith Monk is conventional. Her music employs consonant melody, after all. And that’s what I suspect Chris means. For ‘formally conventional,’ read ‘not free jazz,’ not explicitly tied to the post-Ayler school of skronk.
“We’re all entitled to our opinions — indeed, we critics live by them. But Chris’s remark seems pretty close to an outright error.”
The error … no, make that errors, are David’s. Let us set aside for a moment his ridiculous presumption that I value only dissonance and/or ‘free jazz,’ and the awkward non sequitur whereupon the name Meredith Monk is dropped into the conversation. Let us instead focus on Mr. Adler’s apparent misunderstanding of a fundamental aspect of music theory.
By gliding past the word “formally” and landing hard on the word “conventional,” David’s take begs one of two interpretations: either he ignored my reference to form in order to willfully distort my meaning, or he didn’t understand what I meant by the phrase “formally conventional.” I once would’ve found it hard to believe David would intentionally misinterpret a point in order to make one of his own. Now I’m not so sure. All things considered, however, I think the second conclusion is the one to be drawn.
“Formally conventional” in this context can mean but one thing: a conventional approach to musical form–form signifying the overall organization of the musical composition, i.e. the manner in which a composer orders his music in smaller sections to create a larger work.
In calling the music on Eternal Interlude “formally conventional,” I meant that John organized his compositions in more-or-less clearly defined sections in a fixed order, in a manner typical of composers trained in traditional, European-based styles. In the past John has used minimalist techniques, which are also derived from the European Art Music Tradition, U.S.A. Division. In any case, my point is that his approach to form is time-tested. In other words: conventional. This in contrast to Collier, in whose hands form is malleable, an element of improvisation in the context of live performance.
Of course, a case can be made that, within the confines of the tradition in which he works, John’s use of form is not at all conventional. For instance, his compositions are a great deal more formally imaginative than the typical Sammy Nestico or Phil Wilson arrangement.
But that doesn’t mean it’s not conventional in a wider sense, and that’s where the issue of context enters the discussion, for when I called John’s music formally conventional, it was in relation to Collier’s work, which in terms of form is decidedly unconventional — not just compared to Hollenbeck’s or the historical paradigm of big band jazz, but within the entire framework of Western composition.
It seems apparent that David misinterpreted “form” to mean “genre” or perhaps “style,” which is frankly a rookie mistake, not one I’d expect from an experienced jazz journalist. Speaking as a musician, it’s just the sort of gaffe that causes us to distrust and even disdain critics.
In the spirit of our esteemed POTUS, Let Me Be Clear. I consider Eternal Interlude a very fine album. Form for John is a vessel into which he pours melody, harmony, and rhythm (and, I might add, tonal color) – the aspects of composing that most incite his creativity. I prefer Graham’s approach, but there’s plenty to like about John’s music, as well. Certainly others can prefer the Hollenbeck and have very good reasons for doing so.
My original point was two-fold: first, Hollenbeck’s use of musical form is less inventive than Collier’s (which as far as I’m concerned is an indisputable fact); second, the presence of Hollenbeck’s album on so many Top 10 lists and the absence of Collier’s has nothing to do with quality and everything to do with extra-musical influences.
My lack of regard for critics who are overly susceptible to said extra-musical influences is easily inferred by reading the rest of the original piece. You might even speculate that such inferences prompted David’s criticisms. Of course I wouldn’t, but you might.
As much as I’m disappointed by David’s weird attack on my Hollenbeck/Collier comparison, and that he uses it as an excuse to bash my personal aesthetic (which he oddly – and mistakenly – feels qualified to define), it’s best looked at as a form of retribution for the blanket pan of critics in my Top 10 article. In other words, I more or less expected something like it to come along. In fact, I probably would’ve let it pass with minimal comment were it not for something he wrote later in the piece regarding a review I wrote eight years ago (!):
” … it puts me in mind of 2002, when one of my picks of the year was John Ellis’s Roots, Branches & Leaves. Chris Kelsey, reviewing for either JazzTimes or Down Beat, dismissed it as a neo-bop record, going so far as to suggest that the players sound like they perform in suits and ties. Perhaps he got this idea from the fact that Jason Marsalis was the drummer, I don’t know.”
He continues: “To me, Roots, Branches & Leaves remains one of the most poignantly personal jazz statements of the last 10 years. But Ellis got dogged for it in print, and I’d be surprised if it appeared on a single top 10 list besides mine. That’s life.”
I’d forgotten the album, except for the fact that I felt it unexceptional. Fortunately, the review is available on the JazzTimes site, so I was able to revisit what I’d written (it’s excerpted from a column, which explains the odd tone at the end). I encourage you to read it, and decide if it’s as cavalier a dismissal as David states. It’s clear that David takes personal offense to my criticisms of music he especially esteems.
What ultimately set me off, however, is the Marsalis comment. For the record, the personnel listings on an album don’t influence what I write about the music contained therein, and for David to suggest as much is B.S. in the extreme. If I sound angry, well, I am. My estimation of Mr. Adler, who I generally respected before (evidently without just cause), is now in the toilet.
Whee! I had a recent insight about all this stuff, I’ll try to hammer into something after I fully get out from under the stunning weight of an Albertson accolade.
What we are seeing is a conflict from one cohort which is ‘other directed’ and highly sensitive to socialization. That would be much of the floundering for hire jazz inc world. They are stuck in the teeming petri dish of NYC and get ruffled if the stars of this insular community are or seem slighted.
They are stuck with bailing out the titanic of a sinking music industry for a living and probably feel besieged.
The happy go lucky rest of us are more inner directed and are less impacted by ‘group think’. We approach the music much as we would a bird watching adventure.
We are trying to figure out what it is a tad more than why it is supposed to matter. That is implied by whatever effort we bring to writing about it in the first place.
We don’t have to answer as much to editors particularly in our own domains and can focus on enhancing discourse by calling attention to overlooked or under appreciated people without much regard to their pecking order placement in some Brooklyn neighborhood or the likelihood they have some role in saving what’s left of Jazz Inc.
The broader problem is that all of jazz inc’s incessant aditorial bias has degraded discourse to boiler plate cheer leading for whatever hair brained decisions are made in A&R departments or executive suites when merger mania began to wreck everything.
When we mess with this group think a plume of faux controversy erupts from the cone of jazz inc and we sweep away the ashes.
Comment by Chris Rich — January 26, 2010 @ 7:34 pmWelcome back, Chris!
Comment by Jason Crane | The Jazz Session — January 26, 2010 @ 11:03 pmIs this the jazz writer’s equivalent of a fist fight?
Comment by Matt LeGroulx — January 26, 2010 @ 11:20 pmHi Chris,
Thanks for your post.
I must admit that I, too, was puzzled by your description of John Hollenbeck’s music as “formally conventional.” As you say, that term has a very specific technical meaning — and so I don’t think that is really the kind of descriptor you can apply to music as formally ambitious as John’s without further elaboration. I was hoping you might expand on your reasoning a bit more in this post but I’m afraid I’m still not entirely clear what, precisely, you meant by that statement.
I mean, correct me if I am wrong — and I mean that sincerely; despite my admiration for Hollenbeck’s compositions (and, for that matter, Adler’s criticism), I am honestly trying to contribute light, not heat, here — but: it would seem to be your contention that any composition that employs “more-or-less clearly defined sections in a fixed order” qualifies, in your books, as “formally conventional.” Moreover, it seems like you are also asserting that _any_ formaly approach that is “derived from the European Art Music Tradition” (not sure whether “USA division” is an important qualifier there or not) is similarly formally conventional.
In other words, it sounds to me like you are saying that the entire European Art Music Tradition is, at this late date, formally conventional, and that in order to be formally unconventional, music must have a malleable (not fixed) form, and contain “an element of improvisation.” Do I have that right?
So — assuming I haven’t misinterpreted your position:
First off, I don’t accept your premise that only malleable/improv-based forms can be considered “unconventional.” Second, as someone with a passing familiarity with Hollenbeck’s scores, I can assure you that his music is quite often formally malleable and subject to the element of improvisation. (*Far* more so than my own, just to give a point of reference.) Finally, while I agree that form is a hugely important and under-discussed (in jazz, at least) element of music that is incredibly important to our aesthetic experience — I spend more time sweating about form than I do about anything else — the pursuit of unconventional form in and of itself feels a lot less important to me than the pursuit of *effective* form — in other words, the crafting of an emotionally resonant musical narrative. And, on that metric, Hollenbeck’s music is some of the most exiciting and powerful I’ve ever encountered.
Comment by DJA — January 27, 2010 @ 12:35 amHey Darcy,
Thanks for contributing.
Of course, all things are relative. One man’s convention is another’s launching pad for sublimity.
In general, form in large-ensemble composition is its most inhibiting and, dare I say, hackneyed aspect. For that reason, it’s the facet most open to innovation. Improv/chance is in my eyes a very interesting – perhaps the MOST interesting – area for exploration.
Needless to say, the use of “open form” is nothing new. It goes back as least as far as Cage and probably Cowell (who sometimes seems to have invented everything!). In jazz, you can go back to Tristano’s “Intuition” and “Digression.” Of course those tracks were wholly improvised, but they set the stage for later experiments in spontaneous form conducted by musicians like Braxton, Mitchell, Zorn, and, in the contemporary “big band” realm, Thompson, Morris, Parker, etc.
Doing it with a large ensemble is obviously problematic, which is why I find Collier’s accomplishment especially notable. Were it forced or self-conscious, I’d probably agree that it was of secondary import, but it isn’t. His work has a marvelously organic quality that I find extraordinary.
I would encourage you to read Collier’s book, The Jazz Composer: Moving Music Off the Paper, in which he expounds on his concept and philosophy in a far more enlightening fashion than I ever could.
Thx,
CK
Comment by Chris — January 27, 2010 @ 7:24 amHey Matt,
“I don’t want to belong to any club that will accept people like me as a member.” – Groucho Marx
Comment by Chris — January 27, 2010 @ 7:59 amIt seems the definition of ‘formally conventional’ may still be under discussion but, for what it’s worth, in my ‘jazz composer’ book I discussed the possibility that ‘jazz form’ exists: ‘that a composition should make its own form. That [what I call] ‘jazz form’, rather than following a predetermined plan, arises in some way from the DNA discovered in the initial idea during the composing process. The ‘act of composing’ has opened up the possibilities. The act of performing has shown one of the possible paths.’
Which is where jazz composing differs from the other kind. Or should, in my opinion. Some composers leave the finding of possible paths to their soloists, or by using different players on the same piece, or leaving the length of solos open to the flow of the performance, but the essential form of the piece stays the same. There’s no denying that great music can be produced in this way, but in most of my work I prefer to experiment with the actual form during the performance. It’s what Miles did with his Lincoln Centre version of ‘Stella by Starlight’, and there of course are many other examples I could have chosen from small group jazz practice.
As Chris says ‘doing it with a large ensemble is obviously problematic’, but it’s what I do. Although I am aware that if it’s done well it may not be apparent – unless you’re aware of the methods used, or hear more than one version of the same composition, which is why, when I can, I’m issuing alternate versions of some of my long works.
Comment by Graham Collier — January 27, 2010 @ 8:54 amHi Chris, I am a jazz tragic however have no formal musical training at all. However I understood what you meant in your original post. I love the blog and love the fact that as we would say in Australia you have some balls and arent afraid of a fight. Keep it real, jj.
Comment by Johnny Jazz — January 27, 2010 @ 8:22 pmWow, thanks Johnny. Much appreciated.
Comment by Chris — January 27, 2010 @ 8:31 pm