3/22

Was up for a while around 4. Read my chunk of W&P, played a piano-orchestra piece by Vivian Fine on Spotify. Skimmed a pdf of a card magic book. Not sure when I got back to sleep; up for good at 9. Texted Jean for Tomeka’s info. Starting the day too late to grade, but did some course admin. Left room at noon. Listened to 1/2 of the Carla Bley best-of I bought yesterday walking around over the course of the day. Knox County Library book sale - came away w/ a book on symbolist poetics, one on “mathematical discourse,” and the hardcover of Donald Barthelme’s The Dead Father (the same edition I remember from Upland Public Library growing up), + CDs of Poulenc and Samuel Taylor-Coleridge. $8. (No interesting vinyl, many discards of ’20-‘30s popular novels by utterly forgotten authors — I could imagine being interested, another time.) Bijou Theater, program of Joan LaBarbara, and then an ensemble of younger players, performing Alvin Lucier. I only grasp a little about this kind of work; it depends on slow shifts in pitch and timbre, and the effects of their interaction. Lucier took the stage at the end to perform “I Am Sitting in the Room,” the famous tape-decay piece that’s ground zero for one kind of post-Cagean line. Hearing an old man’s unsure voice (he has always had a stutter) disappear with repeated playbacks of the tape he’s just recorded gives the piece flesh, and a “literary” content about mortality that perhaps weren’t imagined in the original conception (like Ashbery’s interview line - “All that time I thought I was writing about nothing, I was writing about aging.”) He got a standing ovation (for sitting in a room!) Walked to the other end of downtown for Code Girl. I don’t know if Halvorson and co. will ever do another album in this song-based format, but it’s a very solid, memorable body of material; seemed like the improvises sections, esp. a drum/trumpet duo, have become longer and more dramatic since the Jazz Standard set I saw last year. Saw Gary Ostertag (who was at Carla Bley last week), Eric Weisbard, and Tomeka - met her boyfriend (who’s named David Brown, exactly like Jean’s husband). Took a break for a deli wrap, some mint chip ice-cream, and a coffee. Called my dad, and my aunt Rosalie (meaning to do that for a week or two). Walked to the museum (didn’t get quite as lost as yesterday afternoon, but had walked the wrong direction during phone calls) for panel w/ Mary H., Tomeka, and Larry Grenadier (Brad Meldhau’s bassist, whose recent ECM solo bass album I enjoyed). “Agreeable” conversation (as MH put it) on themes from Nate’s book, and some trio improv. Kind of a forced situation. Jean showed up just before the talk started - will presumably see her later this wknd. Tried to find a record store but the address in my app was wrong; it’s moved too far to walk. Went to one of the smaller/divier festival venues, Pilot Light, watched 1/2 a set by Sima Cunningham, a Chicago singer-songwriter w/ Tweedy ties. Hot and tired won out - came back to the room before 10. Read another chunk of the Rossouw book - a v. long documentary poem working off an inventory of Dutch slave holdings in early 18th c. South Africa (pre-apartheid per se). Author is the descendent of Huguenot immigrants “eager to benefit from slavery,” so it’s a work of historical guilt, which of course overlays present-day sections as well (“I stumble and pause/to remove my Adidas/as if I had the right/to even your blisters”). Also a good deal of apostrophe directed at a kind of idealized rebel figure, Lena van de Caab, extrapolated from the sketchy (decayed) historical records; she functions exactly like “Lucy” in the dance-theater piece I saw 2 nights ago. The poetry, in any case, is polyglot, fragmentary on the page in that Susan Howe working-w-documents manner, but oddly readable.

Knoxville, at least the part of it I’m seeing, is very New South — there are many bars, and it’s hard not to wonder where the broke part is. Speaking of historical guilt.

3/21

Up a bit before 7. Put on some cable channel w/ The Joey Bishop Show and Sgt. Bilko. Misplaced the remote for a while. Breakfast buffet; serviceable, but I think I’ll look around town the next few mornings. Made myself grade for an hr. Read W&P. 100 p. to go — we’re into the strange (given what the “novel” has become since) mostly non-narrative fatalistic philosophy of history epilogue. Meditated 15 min. Went into town - weather changeable all day, had bought umbrella at hotel. Checked in for festival, bought 2 Carla Bley CDs in the merch area (I might go back, but there were single copies of these). Found the small indie bookstore, nice enough but didn’t buy anything; meat + 2 at a lunch room; spend 2+ hrs at coffee near the bookstore, taking some notes and drafting a graf of what’s coming. (Actually wrote in notebook quite a bit during the day). Took a while to find the art museum at the University for the first night/set of festival - passed library w/ a book sale I’ll go back to. Saw the vocal ensemble Roomful of Teeth (I realized it was the best-known member, Caroline Shaw, I’d been on the plane with yesterday). I think they only do their own compositions. Good, though there is a Swingle Singers side to it. (Not that that’s not valid enjoyable, but to preen about it being avant-garde…) Closer to the main drag, saw Joan LaBarbara in an Episcopal church. Meditative, not particularly big on structure. Of her time, in some ways. Theo Bleckmann at a theater nearby, doing Kate Bush songs w/ a four-piece band; liked the violinist and (particularly) the pianist, but the rhythm section was just kind of serviceable — sounded like arrangements recently learned, more than a band, though I could be wrong (is there a record of the project)? Artifacts Trio back at the church, w/ Nicole Mitchell (flute), my acquaintance Tomeka Reid (cello), and Mike Reid (related? drums). Great. More conventional jazz structures (head-blow-head) than I might have guessed given the AACM imprimatur, but Mitchell plays the most convincing blues-based flute I’ve ever heard personally, and Tomeka is a fucking monster player, both as “bassist” and soloist. Ended at 11, had a bite at the same place as last night. Read a bit of Mark J. Butler, Play Something Had Runs (had started during coffee period), but need to take it slow, make notes — serious EDM scholarship, w/ theoretical discussions of repetition and ontology that have implications beyond that genre. Relevant to my interests as they say. Back to hotel, lights out 12:30. Very little human contact, which is fine for a couple days.

3/20

Up at 8. Took tax material to p.o + overcoat to dry cleaners. Coffee at E77, read in Rossuw, drafted loosely in grey notebook. Did a few small tasks for Bree and home, tried to pack and organize. My printer/scanner is totally non-functional. Played through “Kentucky Volunteer” - interesting song, but I’m not sure I can arrange it in time for States of Country next Wed. Called a car to LGA at 1. Flight uneventful - did crossword, read Chinen. Started to watch Billions, some HBO show about the rich w/ Paul Giamatti, couldn’t take more than 10 min. Forced, awful writing. Switched to the first episode of Sharp Objects, which I’d watched some of in CA. Also kitsch, of the small-town-secrets/family-trauma-recovery variety, but I like the visual style. Cab driver told me there had been flooding from the TN River a few weeks ago, that a major bass fishing competition had just been held, and that he himself played competitive darts. Checked into hotel. Read for an hr. Walked 8 min. through the pleasantly redeveloped commercial downtown to the Tennessee Theater (gorgeous, Bree would love it) for Lucy Negro Redux, a ballet based poems by Caroline Randall Williams w/ music by Rhiannon Giddens (and an Italian drummer pianist). Some of this was pretty tough going: the actress reciting Williams’ lines (and Shakespeare’s) was just bad, the choreographic interpretations tended toward the literal, and the bravely empowering text seemed to me equal parts of racial fantasy projection and strategic essentialism. Enjoyed Giddens’ playing (banjo and violin) and singing, though (I recognize the criticism that she’s mannered, but it rests on a presumption about what persona a black woman should project). Had a bite nearby, finished Chinen. Relentlessly boostery, but I learned quite a bit and have a daunting list of musicians/records to explore. Went back to the room, read quota of W&P, lights out 11:30.

3/19

Up 6. Left 7. Read Nate Chinen’s Playing Changes on the train up (will probably see him in TN.) Caught/corrected an error in my midterm before I printed/copied it, also d/l’ed and printed “Kentucky Volunteer.” Wrote to Dave Schramm offering to back him on piano for the 4/15 set. Gave exam. 12:30 train home, mostly zoned out but listened to some Hines. Lunch in GTC, bought a sweater finally. Home at 3, read a bit of W&P but was interrupted by call from an associate of my dad’s. Spend 2 hrs on phone w/ Blue Cross, trying to figure out the application to add Bree to my policy. Inconclusive. Meditated 15 minutes. Packing for tomorrow. Dug out LP of Dave Holland, Conference of the Birds, b/c it came up in Chinen. Left at 8:15, read an underwhelming JAAC article about artistic integrity. Heard Carla Bley trio, w/ Steve Swallow and Andy Sheppard at the Jazz Standard. Two new, long suite-like places called “Life Goes On” and “Beautiful Telephone,” + 3 older ones, closing with the lovely “Lawns.” Her music isn’t easy to describe. Was seated by a woman, maybe early 30s, who turned out to be a composer/pianist named Mara Rosenbloom - says she gives lessons. Started looking at a book-length poem called Xamissa, by South African poet, Henk Rossouw, but didn’t get far in. Lights out midnight.

3/18

Up 7. Meditated 15 min. Took something Bree is returning to UPS Store. Sent files to band. Worked on a “complete” project/to-do list for a while. Left at 11. Therapy. Lunch, finished Deveaux. Looked in an Urban Outfitters for sweaters (unlikely). Bought Bree an Ethernet cable. Sat over coffee for an hr., wrote a couple of pages of “free” notes.

Listened to the rest of Mark Turner s/t on train home. Subtle to a fault (it’s an early record as a leader). Read a tiny UPD chapbook by Sareeta Morgan. Sort of a semi-abstract second-personal-plural young-and-confused-in-the-city poem. Looked for sweaters in outlet stores on 82nd, also to no avail. Bought a new stock file folders. Took care of a tax detail, put in laundry, read 30 p. Brecht (see below), put laundry in drier. Left at 7:15. Met Pete Galub at Le Poisson Rouge, watched opening band, a heavily processed guitar/loops/drum duo called Yvette. Not bad, and a couple of decent tunes in the vein of “difficult” Wire, but they looked exactly the way they were supposed to for how they sounded, esp. in the club’s hi-contrast lighting, and what is the point of being “noisy” if everything’s going to come down to 4-bar periods anyway? Followed by This is Not This Heat: 6-person lineup, with I guess one orig. member in addition to Charles Hayward, ‘cos the other 4 were younger. I liked that one played out clarinet as much as guitar — gave it that non-idiomatic Brit texture. Some pieces “rocked” more than others, would liked to have been more familiar w/ the words; one was a kind of Arabic-dub groove over which bits of the Preamble to the Constitution was sung, presumably to say it would have been nice if they’d meant it. Got tired of standing at the front of the crowd about 1/2 way in, sat in back, ran into Chris Nelson, talked about doing some kind of duo situation, possible for Che Chen’s series at Outpost on 4/18. Read quota of W&P on the way home, listened to the Thermals first album and a little bit of an Earl Hines compilation. Lights out midnight. Seem to be out later than I’d like the nights before I have to teach.

Brecht, from “Letters on recent reading,” 1944 (901)

With pleasure I read
How Horace traces the evolution
Of Saturnian verse from rustic farces
Which did not spare the great families, that is until
The police banned mischievous songs, and
The taunting writers were forced to develop
A more subtle art and to taunt
With more elegant verse forms. That at least
Is how I construe the passage.

[This conceivably bears on the transition from blues to popular-song forms as a basis for jazz - very rough analogy, but a striking passage.]

1st stanza of “On the critical attitude,” c. 1945 (1927)

The critical attitude
Seems to many unfruitful.
That is because in the body politic
They can achieve nothing with their critique.
But what seems in this case an unfruitful attitude
Is simply a weak attitude. A critique with weapons
Can smash the state.

[To which I add: Can weapons without a critique?]