|
| William Parker presents "Universal Tonality" |
|
 |
Author: Keith Scott, GothamJazz Correspondent at Large
Posted on: Tuesday, December 17, 2002
William Parker presents "Universal Tonality", Roulette, 12/14/02
Keith Scott, GothamJazz Correspondent at Large
Roulette is a modest, non-profit performance space which offers an ambitious program of experimental music three or four nights a week. One has to be buzzed into this second story venue, which is located next door to The Bubble Lounge, New York's swankest champagne bar. The aesthetic at Roulette is, in contrast, defiantly unpolished. To get from the front door to the performance space, one walks through what appears to be someone's rather haphazard kitchen. Seating (the space holds about 60) consists of metal folding chairs stacked on risers reminiscent of high school chorus. But the tweedy, NPR-ish crowd seems very much at home in this homemade space. Despite the fact that there is no bar service (or service whatsoever), Roulette has a speak-easy sort of feel, and a cocktail-party buzz fills the room as regular attendees greet one another by name.
This was the scene for the premier of "Universal Tonality", an original work composed by William Parker and performed by his 15-piece Organic Orchestra on Saturday, December 14th. In addition to the venerable avant-garde bassist Parker (heralded by the Village Voice as "the most consistently brilliant free jazz bassist of all time"), the orchestra presented a veritable United Nations of musicians, ranging from elder statesmen of jazz such as the trombonist Grachan Moncur III and hornman Daniel Carter to the Asian koto player Mya Masaoka and young brass players Cale Broadley (tenor sax) and Matt Lavelle (trumpet).
One was hard-pressed to predict exactly what manner of sound would emerge from this disparate assembly of personnel and instrumentation. "Universal Tonality" is composed of six sections, the first of these being, "Prelude (The Death of Death)". The first strains of the piece featured a forceful bass line from Mr. Parker, who was soon joined by the brass section in creating a dramatic, vaguely ominous tone accented by the urgent trombone work of Steve Swells. These first thirty or so measures provided a relatively accessible and jazzy point of departure for the piece as a whole. The prelude's prominent, prodding bass lines and the animalistic tones emerging from the horn section call to mind Mingus' savage, evolutionary allegory "Pithecanthropus Erectus". Daniel Carter played with conviction and sincerity throughout the piece, and made his presence known quickly (if unobtrusively) with some lovely, understated blowing on a muted trumpet during the prelude. Another consistent trait of the piece made itself known in the early going. Leena Conquest is blessed with a sure, strong, and soulful voice. Unfortunately, the lyrics and spoken word passages of "Universal Tonality" don't come close to doing this phenomenal voice justice. She sings with passion and certainty, but even these gifts are no match against the banality of lyrics like "When there's a will there's a way to survive" and "Hope is relentless, it never dies." While there is a clear break after the prelude and the fourth section, "Leaves Gathering", sections one through three are essentially an unbroken piece of music.
The first section, "Silk Clouds" begins with Ms. Conquest reciting a laundry list of highway imagery ("Truck with boat attached, Wendy 's, 11 miles, yellow house with green door, etc.") which distracts somewhat from the pianissimo, contemplative interplay between Parker and pianist Dave Burrell (an energetic player who has manned the keys for, among others, Archie Shepp, Phaorah Sanders, and David Murray). This section evolves into a swirling, dirge-like passage which decrescendos and gives way to the first notes from the Asian instrumentation. About two years ago, I caught the renowned pianist Randy Weston at the Jazz Standard. Weston is known not only for his impressive chops, but also for being a musical diplomat who integrates the music of diverse cultures into his sound. At that set, a Chinese woman of amazing technical proficiency joined his group for several songs on a stringed Asian instrument. But while the resulting sound was unique and intriguing, the instruments never quite meshed into a sonic whole (perhaps due to the different scale systems around which western and eastern instruments are constructed). Happily, in "Universal Tonality", the integration of such instruments was seamless and successful. To begin the section "Gong Desert", Jin Hi Kim produced a surprisingly groovy, foot-tapping solo on the Kumongo. Violins and then brass entered, building to a frenetically hypnotic sound which slowly morphed into a lurching, ten-note figure which eventually gave way to an extended free-for-all highlighted by a dissonant, grab-bag of a violin solo from Billy Bang, who played like a man gleefully possessed. This passage's complex rhythms and dynamic shifts provided one of many moments in the piece which benefited from the adept drumming of Gerald Cleaver, who waded through difficult material with steady rhythmic grace. This section closed with another Kumongo solo by Ms. Hi Kim. The decision to augment this solo with cheesy synthesizer effects was puzzling, bringing a synthetic, Casio edge to an otherwise authentic passage.
The next section, "Tails of a Peacock", continued to push the piece further and further afield. With the orchestra's assuredly hard-edged sound and the general compositional form of controlled disorder these sections resemble much of the avant-garde pianist Cecil Taylor's work (especially given the inclusion of violins in the ensemble). A truly unique sound was achieved, however, when Jerome Cooper (who also played keyboards and marimba) broke out the cheramia (or what I was thinking of as "that thing snake-charmers play" before I checked the program). This miniature horn creates a startlingly large, nasal sound, and Mr. Cooper used it to the piece's advantage, especially when he played two cheramias simultaneously in an impressive and inventive musical display. Ms. Hi Kim's intriguing work also continued in this section; her Kumongo was wired through an effects petal into a amplifier, and rather than simply being novel, this setup allowed her to create some truly compelling atmospheric sounds. "Leaves Gathering" began with some deft guitar work from Joe Morris, who up to this point had been playing quiet, tasteful figures in the sonic shadows. But he quickly made himself known with electric cascades of 32nd and 64th notes which echoed some of guitar whiz Pat Martino's work on his Arab-inflected album "Baiyina". This section continued in a similar vein as the previous two sections -- creating adventurous soundscapes long on tone and expression and short on melody.
The framing of "Universal Tonality" as a piece of High Art is reaffirmed in "Leaves Gathering" as a recording of Arabic drum chants is played while the musicians and audience sit silently. This sort of self-awareness permeates "Universal Tonality". The piece is undeniably bold, ambitious, and (clocking in at around two hours) lengthy. But it is more cerebral and serious-minded than purely joyful. In fact, only the two violin players seemed to be genuinely enjoying themselves. As such, the work's status as a commissioned artwork (it was commissioned by Roullette with fund from the Mary Flagler Cary Charitable Trust) is apparent, an impression strengthened by self-helpful lyrics like "the only real truth is that which is inside us." Fortunately, some of this self-consciousness is shed in the work's last section "Universal Tonality (Peace)", which begins with an uptempo, boppish bass line. Daniel Carter gets his most prominent solo of the evening here, engaging in a sort of call and response with the rest of the brass section. While the other horns sat in front of music stands upstage left, Mr. Carter stood downstage right, apart, and without a music stand or any sheet music in front of him. He plays like a man in a trance, swooning with his various horns, and while he conducts himself without a trace of showmanship, the sincerity of his blowing and his compelling body language made him the most visually compelling musician on stage this night. Once again, the last section benefited greatly from Gerald Cleaver's drumwork. Cleaver ranged between atmospheric garnish to driving, hard-bop beats with admirable fluidity and taste. As with several other musicians in the Orchestra (most notably guitarist Morris and Mr. Parker himself) I am left curious as to what sort of epiphanies Cleaver might reach in a more straight-forward jazz setting.
Another highlight of this final section was the violin of Jason Kao Hwang, who burst forth with a furious solo and nearly played his baton to shreds in the process. This is the final climax of the work, which dwindles to a sonic coda in which a few sweet notes by Parker on the shakuhachi bring the piece to a quiet, meditative close.
Despite its title, "Universal Tonality" is not all-encompassing in appeal. It is a long and challenging work, and like the compositions of Cecil Taylor and Albert Ayer, it presents excruciatingly delicious and tormentingly difficult moments in equal helpings.
|
|
|
|
|
|
