EricLectic's Golublog

Pilgrimage of aloha to 'ukulele makers on O'ahu

2006-09-10T00:12:00.000-07:00

Recently I was in Honolulu for my first time in almost 5 years. The highlight was visiting KoAloha, and meeting Alan Okami, who made the concert low-G 'ukuleles (in 2003 and 2004) I love and play the most. It was a thrill to meet Papa KoAloha too. A big mahalo to them and to the rest of the Okami family and extended KoAloha 'ohana...I'll be your ambassador in China or wherever!

I didn't get to see my friend Joseph Souza this time, who made my beautiful Kawaonahele 8-string tenor in 2001, but I happened upon a store where his Kanile'a and Nalo ukes are sold, and had fun playing them, as seen above.

p.s. I just discovered a good Honolulu Star-Bulletin article on the Okami family story:
http://starbulletin.com/2005/10/09/travel/tsutsumi.html

In the Blue Balkan mode

2006-05-08T14:29:00.000-07:00

I've enjoyed a close working relationship with San Francisco's great jazz pianist Larry Vuckovich, for over 25 years now. Larry emigrated to San Francisco in the 1950s from his native Yugoslavia, where he'd grown up hearing jazz broadcast over Voice of America, and quickly became a fixture on the then-burgeoning jazz scene here.

Vuckovich is a standout at bebop, latin jazz, and Lester Young's late swing-era stylings, and is a masterful accompanist and arranger for straight-ahead jazz vocalists. But perhaps his most distinct specialty is his original music blending the Balkan folk melodies and rhythms from his youth with the improvisational American bebop of his adopted homeland. I was featured, along with jazz vibes immortal Bobby Hutcherson, on Vuckovich's debut album as a leader in the US, the "Blue Balkan" LP in 1981 (which was released on CD with added new material in 2001 as "Blue Balkan; Then & Now"), and I also played on 1983's "City Sounds, Village Voices."

Here are some recent pictures taken in performance with Larry's Blue Balkan Ensemble at Pearl's, located in San Francisco's fabulous North Beach district, on April 16, 2006. In the top photo, Larry can be seen at the piano, in the background. Below, I'm improvising free jazz on the viola, and at bottom, in the Balkan gypsy style on the violin.

I will be what I will be

2006-02-20T08:40:00.000-08:00

God's Name YHWH, in whose Image we are created.

John 8:57-58

--courtesy of yhwh.com

My start in Hawaiian music

2006-02-11T15:27:00.000-08:00

Between 1984 and 1992 I was based in Honolulu, where I earned a BA and MA in Asian Studies at the University of Hawaii, concentrating on Japanese language and modernization and also the music of Chinese Peking Opera.

Looking back, it seems amazing that I didn't fall hard for Hawaiian music while I was there. But I was pretty busy studying Chinese opera fiddle with a master player from Shanghai, and rehearsing and performing at the U.H., as well as playing in the Javanese gamelan and studying Japanese koto. (OK, OK, I also played viola in the Chamber Orchestra and violin in the Symphony Orchestra!)

I remember being moved, my first Christmas in Honolulu, by hearing two fellow students sing Honolulu City Lights at a party --- and I had never heard the Beamer Brothers' record! I was certainly exposed to some good Hawaiian music right on campus, as I recall seeing Dennis Pavao, Led Ka'apana, The Peter Moon Band (I think with Cyril Pahinui), and the Makaha Sons of Ni'ihau featuring both Israel Kamakawiwo'ole and his brother Skippy. Got serious 'chicken skin' hearing them sing White Sandy Beach that day, I believe in '88.

As soon as I had left the Islands in '92, I knew I'd made a mistake, and I really grieved for a long time. By 2000, I'd been back in California almost as long as I'd been in the Islands to begin with, but still hadn't gotten over my longing for the smell of plumeria and ginger blossoms, the feel of tropical heat cooled by tradewinds, and the sight of azure skies over turquoise seas. My slack-key records including those of my hero, Dennis Kamakahi, gave me some comfort, but I didn't see myself taking up guitar at this late date. I was attracted to the ukulele: sweeter, smaller, cheerful-sounding and easy to play with the thumb or fingers, with no need of a pick. I finally bought one and taught myself in short order to play it, strumming the chords of my favorite songs along with records by Gabby Pahinui, Ray Kane, Aunty Genoa Keawe, The Sunday Manoa and of course Eddie Kamae and the Sons of Hawai'i, featuring young Dennis Kamakahi.

It was summer 2001 now, and at a UH Alumni Association event in San Francisco, I met Saichi Kawahara and his Kapalakiko Hawaiian Band. To my amazement, he was interested in my expressed desire to sing and play Hawaiian music, which I figured my fledgling abilities at the ukulele would make possible. But his real hook was the fact that I was an accomplished player and improviser on the viola and violin, as well as the Japanese and Chinese 'fiddles.' Soon after, I was invited to apprentice with the Kapalakiko Hawaiian Band, and pretty soon after that I was performing in the front line with the group every Friday and Saturday night.

Over the next 18 months, I performed at least 150 gigs with the KHB, including 10 as bass guitarist, learning and singing hundreds of classic old and not-so-old songs from the traditional Hawaiian repertoire, and accompanying terrific artists such as the Lim Family featuring Sonny "Kohala" Lim (see photo below), Willie K, Bill Tapia, and Patrick Landeza. It was always exciting to accompany and provide music for several hula companies and artists, especially Patrick Makuakane and his Na Lei Hulu I Ka Wekiu.

It was a thrill singing unison and harmony vocals on all the numbers, and even some lead vocals, and using my viola or 'fiddle' as though it were a steel guitar, playing the sweet characteristic fills or 'oli' between each verse repetition, and also taking a lot of the improvised solos or 'pa'ani.' Once a booking agent complained to Saichi about presenting a Hawaiian band with the 'inappropriate' front line instrument of viola, only to be sternly reprimanded by our leader, with a lesson about the historical precedent of the violin in Hawaiian music, which was set by the legendary Sam Li'a and others.

I will never forget that my first performance with the band was on September 9, 2001, and my first rehearsal after my debut with them was as always on the Tuesday following: 9/11/01. Passing San Francisco International Airport on that rare evening, en route to band headquarters near Candlestick Park, itself a place holding lots of memories for me, one couldn't help getting an eery feeling indeed, as entry to the airport terminals was blocked by extensive law enforcement and governmental presence.

My last performance, at the start of March 2003, came right on the eve of the Iraq War. Along the way there were lots of memories, like being right in front of the TV by the bar in the old Hukilau (Japantown SF)--- and in the middle of singing Ulupalakua --- as Barry Bonds hit his 71st homerun. It turned out I had not only predicted when I arrived that night that he would hit it, but even nailed the time!

Anyway, I'd like to say mahalo a nui loa to Uncle Saichi for all he taught me, and for the chance to sing and play my 'slack key viola' with the KHB. I really got alot from some of the others in the band, too, such as Vern Fernandez, Vince Fernandez, and Lola Tortolero. And I'll always be grateful to kumu hula Patrick Makuakane, who let me attend his oli (chant) classes.

Most recently it was my pleasure to introduce hundreds of English students in the greater Beijing, China area to the ukulele, and to Hawaiian music and culture. I taught most of my classes to sing such classics as I'll Remember You, by the late lamented Kuiokalani Lee, Honolulu City Lights by Keola Beamer, and Dennis Kamakahi's Maui Mountain Home. Oh, and White Sandy Beach, of course!

But the ukulele is great for singing any kind of song, and I was compelled to learn the songs that every student in China knows: Yesterday Once More (The Carpenters) and Hotel California!

--eg

A (not so) brief musical history

2006-02-10T15:03:00.000-08:00

I always was attracted to all different kinds of music, hearing my mom's Nat King Cole and my dad's Dmitri Shostakovich with equal fascination. I had my first violin lesson on my 8th birthday, started playing bass guitar in rock bands at 13, and had toured Australia with the California Youth Symphony, and performed concerts with Duke Ellington and Jack Benny, before entering high school. I wanted to play bass with The Doors or Jimi Hendrix, and play like Jack Bruce or Phil Lesh, but at the same time I was starting to emulate guitarists and keyboardists like Carlos Santana, Jerry Garcia and Ray Manzarek on my electric violin.

In my freshman year, I quit classical violin lessons, and just then discovered the viola. Right on the heels of that, I heard Miles Davis for the first time, specifically his Bitches Brew album. That changed everything for me, and from that point, I was most interested in improvising that way on the viola. Under the influence of that album in particular, I also took up bass clarinet in my junior year, and got to join the Foothill Youth Symphony (Band) on that instrument for its tour of Costa Rica that summer.

I attended Berklee College of Music in Boston for one year, right out of high school. I was the first viola major in the school's history, and ended up studying theory privately with vibraphone great Gary Burton in lieu of a string specialist on the faculty. Briefly lived in NYC after that, playing in my Berklee buddy Craig Hollander's band Cosmos Deck. Craig's massive, polyrhythmic drumset anchored the band, which also featured Alex Prokofieff's virtuoso bass guitar and composer/savant John A. Quinn on electric piano. I never played in a more brilliantly original group in my life, and nobody's ever heard of them. My electric viola was the perfect lead voice for their group, except I was a little too far behind them in my musical development to catch up in time! They had already broken up, and only got together again because of my enthusiasm --- so I came back to the Bay Area.

Up to 1977 I continued to play bass guitar in my own group Rainbow Feel, but increasingly electric violin or viola in other groups ranging from psychedelic rock to modern jazz. My group was a volatile mix of those two styles, and introduced drummer/vibist Joe Caploe, in whose group Neck N Neck and album "Hearsay" I would be featured many years later.

In the mid-70s I was active in Bay Area avant-garde jazz unit Smoke, recording one unreleased LP, and later with proto-world fusion band Solar Plexus, appearing on their 1979 album "Earth Songs," including an Indian raga on violin. San Francisco's celebrated Yugoslavian emigre jazz pianist Larry Vuckovich heard that violin solo of mine played for him over the telephone, and soon after that we began working together on his debut LP "Blue Balkan" (actually recorded early in 1980 but not released until mid-1981). "Blue Balkan" featured one of my idols, vibes immortal Bobby Hutcherson, playing marimba together with my violin for a unique blend of Slavic folk melodies and driving modern jazz, and has since been re-issued on CD with additional 2001 recordings that also feature me, as "Blue Balkan; Then & Now". I also appeared on Larry's following album, "City Sounds, Village Voices," and continue to perform with Larry's Blue Balkan Ensemble to this day.

During the late 70s and early 80s I attended San Jose State periodically, playing viola in combos and even the big band there, winning an Outstanding Soloist award at the Pacific Coast Collegiate Jazz Festival. I got my first hands-on experience with Indonesian music there too, in the Javanese gamelan that resident composer Lou Harrison built. In a contrasting note, I performed Charles Ives' Second and Fourth Violin and Piano Sonatas in a 1978 recital with the late pianist/composer Michael McCandless. Harrison, who had been an acquaintance of Ives, believed it might have been the first such performance (of the 4th most likely, but perhaps even the 2nd) in San Jose or the Bay Area.

In this same time period 1977-1983 I was playing fiddle in several country and folk groups, toured Alaska with celtic/bluegrass group Banish Misfortune, and once was voted Best Fiddle by the Northern California Country Music Association. I also was nominated for a Bammy for my jazz violin work with Solar Plexus, and twice received honorable mention in the category Talent Deserving Wider Recognition, Violin, in Downbeat Magazine's International Critics' Poll --- most likely on the strength of my appearance on "Blue Balkan."

From 1981 on, I have performed all over California with world-jazz multi-percussionist Ian Dogole, as a member of his group Global Fusion, alongside him in the group Ancient Future, and in featured roles on four of his CDs. We also collaborated for much of the 1990s with bassist Bill Douglass in a trio called Sultans Of Swatch, and my CD features both players as well. I've done some of the best playing of my career over the years in support of Dogole, who's also an innovative composer and dynamic performer, based in Mill Valley, CA.

Recently, the group called Smoke has re-emerged in a new incarnation, CAJE (California Art & Jazz Ensemble), and I'm featured on viola and electric viola on their 2004 release "Opus de Funk Vol. 1." Other notable CD appearances include "The Crossing" by guitarist-composer Tom Taylor, "Asian Fusion" by new age/world beat artists Ancient Future, and "Tokyosphere" by American ex-pat John Kaizan Neptune, the shakuhachi (bamboo flute) master. On that album's "Tokyo Blues," I made what is thought to be the first jazz performance on the Japanese 3-string fiddle called kokyu. I've since played it on CDs by Ian Dogole, Ancient Future, Neck N Neck and others, as well as on "Pluck!"

Through the 1980s and into the early 1990s I was based in Honolulu, majoring in Japanese Area Studies and Ethnomusicology, but also studying and performing Beijing Opera. In 1986 and 1991 I toured the People's Republic of China as concertmaster with the University of Hawaii Beijing Opera Company, playing the 2-string fiddle called jing hu. I might have been the most accomplished 'red-haired devil' on that instrument, or even the only one, at that time.

I've also gone pretty far into multiple Indonesian musics, including Javanese, Balinese and especially Sundanese. Since the 1980s I've specialized in performing the Sundanese violin style called biola, studying with Andrew Weintraub, and performing in his group with the master musician Burhan Sukarma. Over the years I have incorporated this music into original jazz improvisations on my own CD "Pluck!" as well as on recordings by Ian Dogole and Ancient Future.

I'm proud of touring the West and Midwest with the pioneering San Francisco Mime Troupe on its 1994 Offshore tours, performing on viola, Japanese kokyu and Chinese jing hu in the band.

Though I returned to California in 1992 after almost 8 years in Hawaii, it wasn’t until 2001 that I took up Hawaiian music, singing and playing the ukulele. Within 6 months, I was performing every weekend with the Kapalakiko Hawaiian Band, probably the busiest and best-known Hawaiian band outside the Islands. But I wasn’t playing the uke --- I was playing viola! That’s right, in the Hawaiian paniolo style descended from Sam Li’a. I sang all unisons and harmonies, and some lead vocals, while my viola took the role typical of a steel guitar, supplying the traditional fills between verses, as well as solos. I also played several gigs as a bass guitarist with Kapalakiko (my first paid gigs on bass in 25 years!), and in all I must have sung at least 500 different classic songs. I’d guess that there at least 100 songs that I performed at least 100 times with that band. (See also my post below, "My start in Hawaiian music".)

It’s fun in the last few years to be performing songs that I’ve learned under the direction of a living legend, Kapalakiko's main man Saichi Kawahara, but also using skills on ukulele and vocals that I had to develop on my own. Maybe that’s why for me, the ukulele more than anything else is something I did just for myself, all by myself. It came purely out of my love and longing for Hawaii, but at the same time it tapped into a lifelong interest in plucking strings. It was as though I had been looking for the ukulele all my life, without knowing it. I have plucked the viola live and on record since the 1970s, and it was just as I discovered the ukulele and begun concentrating on Hawaiian music that I conceived the idea of summing this up on my 2003 CD “Pluck! (Directions In Jazz Viola).”

-- eg

Joyful sounds

2006-01-10T10:51:00.000-08:00

One of my current activities that is really exciting is playing in the band with Vanessa Van Spall, an original singer-songwriter in the pop/rock/gospel genre.
Here we are at a recent San Francisco gig.

Beijing and Beijing Opera

2005-12-31T16:13:00.000-08:00

In 1984, at the University of Hawaii at Manoa in Honolulu, I began studying the music of Beijing Opera fiddles jing hu and er hu, with Beijing master musician Wan Ruixing. In 1985, I played these instruments in the University of Hawaii's production of Feng Wanchao (The Phoenix Returns To Its Nest). Subsequently, we received a high-level government invitation to tour China, and in the summer of 1986 we made an historic month-long concert tour of Beijing, Xi'an and Shanghai. In addition to The Phoenix, we also performed an evening of American musical theater in those cities, for which I played jazz violin and co-wrote some music.

I continued to study jing hu with Honolulu resident and Shanghai ex-pat Yan Ren'an (George Yan), and occasionally to perform Beijing Opera music in Honolulu.

In 1989, the University of Hawaii Beijing Opera Company began mounting a new production, Yu Tangchun (The Jade Hall of Spring), which I now learned from Nanjing-based jing hu master Shen Fuqing, and which we performed in Honolulu in 1990. Shen "Laoshi" is the person who honored me by bestowing my Chinese name, Gao Yuefeng. Once again, a tour invitation to China resulted, though in the aftermath of the 1989 Tian'anmen Square government crackdown, we elected to accept private sponsorship only. We made a triumphant tour of Shanghai, Wuxi and Nanjing in the summer of 1991.

The University of Hawaii's renown for presenting Beijing Opera is largely attributable to the vision and direction of Elizabeth Wichmann-Walczak (Wei Lixia), the first foreigner to study Beijing Opera with an established diva in the People's Republic of China, in the 1970s. Her expertise at libretto and at every nuance of the theatrical and musical aspects of this classic art form, along with her indefatigable enthusiasm, have earned her and the U.H. a considerable reputation for excellence in the area of Asian theatre. I'm grateful for her inspiration, support and friendship over many years in Honolulu.

Finally, in the fall of 2004, I returned to China to teach English in and around Beijing. There were some memorable experiences in those classrooms, arguing about communism and Taiwan, laughing about the US Presidential election, answering questions about Jesus, and mostly singing songs with ukulele. Lots of songs: I wish you could have heard my 8th grade Bayi Middle School students belt out "I Left My Heart In San Francisco"! Another highlight of this sojourn in China was a reunion with Wan "Laoshi," my first jing hu teacher from nearly 20 years earlier.

I'd like to read anything from my Chinese friends, the students and teachers from Bayi Middle School in Beijing, from Langfang College City and from Nankou Beijing Business School.

--eg

Eric is quoted in a recent article about Beijing Opera:
http://priceless.com/articles/a159.html

Natsukashii na! (Nostalgia for Japan)

2005-12-25T16:12:00.000-08:00

CHRONOLOGY OF MY JAPAN EXPERIENCES

Japanese language, San Jose City College, 1983

*Exchange student representing San Jose, Okayama, June through December 1983 (perform with Takeshi Inomata & Force, Tokyo, chamber orchestra Zephyr and techno-jazz unit Control Flex, Okayama, study and perform on KOTO and SHAKUHACHI)

Japanese language, Foothill College, 1984

Japanese language, University of Hawaii at Manoa, 1984-1990

**Visit Okayama on way home from China, summer 1986 (perform with Toshiyuki Honda featuring Rikiya Higashihara, Kurashiki [pictured below], record with Control Flex, Okayama, violin performance and interview in Japanese, Setouchi-TV, Okayama)

***Teach English in Isumi rural district, Chiba prefecture, August 1987 to July 1988 (perform and record with John Kaizan Neptune, Tokyo, and debut jazz on 3-string fiddle KOKYU)

****Masters Research on Japanese Jazz Musicians, Tokyo, and Japanese Language Intensive at Inter-University Center, Yokohama, summer 1989 (performed with Himiko Kikuchi & Himiko Band)

receive MA in Japanese Area Studies, U.H., 1990

*****one measly day in city of Narita on way to China for second time, summer 1991

guest performer on KOKYU with John Kaizan Neptune & Tokyosphere in Hawaiian Islands concert tour, 1991

--eg

above: Eric playing the kokyu.
See Wikipedia page on kokyu: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kokyu

Japan & Western Culture: Modernization and All That Jazz

2005-12-24T10:57:00.000-08:00

(This is an essay I wrote in spring 1986 while an undergraduate in Japanese Area Studies at the University of Hawaii)

It is a continuing marvel and a source of wonder to see what Japan has been able to do in such a short period of time: Japanologists, scholars in many disciplines, and of course the general public, remain slightly mystified, at a loss to adequately explain how an Asian people, a nation not only separate and distinct in its heritage from the countries of the Western hemisphere, but one which had steadfastly and resolutely maintained near total isolation from those countries and the tremendous developments thereof, could in the space of little more than a century assume such a formidable stature in the world. Just as Japan in its isolation had been relatively untouched by the revolutions in the scientific, industrial, and political fields sweeping Europe, and by the expansion into newly ‘discovered’ lands that such advances made possible, so too in the artistic areas such as music Japan developed in rather solitary fashion.

The Tokugawa period was a time which saw a great flowering of music in Japan, and the crystallization of an aesthetic refinement characteristic of true classicism, even as Europe was simultaneously evolving the harmonic forms, structure and style which make it identifiably Western, from the medieval through the baroque, classical and romantic stages. Because of mutual ignorance of one another’s musical traditions, it could obviously not be said that Europe and Japan consciously followed opposite paths in the formulation of their respective art musics, or that they deliberately pursued antithetical rationales as to what constituted fine art. Rather, the inclination of each culture was permitted to lead to its own conclusions, culminating in totally distinct traditions of artistic expression.

As a consequence, when the Western world, led by the United States, brought an ostensibly superior or at least technologically ‘more advanced’ culture into forced interaction with Japan, the Japanese could not help but call into question the validity and worth of their own arts, and wonder if their musical system, for instance, which was so different from that of the ‘more advanced culture,’ was not itself inherently inferior, as well. It is therefore of great interest to me, and will be my objective herein, to discern, if possible, how it is that the Japanese did not come ultimately to view their own culture as inferior to that of the West, and moreover, how they were at the same time able to adapt to and prosper on the West’s terms. The ability of the Japanese, despite early ambivalence, to absorb and to assimilate Western cultural forms such as music in particular, is a model of Japan’s modernization process in general, and I would like to briefly examine the historical situation regarding the introduction of Western music into Japan, before discussing music and culture of the West and Japan comparatively.

The first introduction of Western music to the Japanese, upon the arrival of the Americans’ warships to Japan, and especially following the British ‘adventures’ in Kagoshima in 1863, was military bands. According to tradition, the rulers of the Satsuma domain were fascinated by the strains of music coming from on board the enemy vessel, and later employed European and American musicians extensively to train Japanese officers in just such music, so that before long this genre had a firm foothold in Japanese military life. Although one might expect pride to get in the way of adopting this music whole-heartedly, given the circumstances in which it was introduced, by the time of the Meiji Restoration drum-and-fife bands and the like appear to have already become widespread indeed. These were followed by official bands under the auspices of the national military ministries, from which program emerged the national anthem of Japan, composed by a musician of the Imperial court, in the gagaku tone system. This anthem, then, composed by a man who had no apparent interest in Western music, is an interesting albeit atypical example of Japanese traditional forms taking precedence over Western ones.

The history of music education in Japanese schools, however, in which character-building, maintaining good order, promoting good reading ability and enunciation, as well as a general moral training were the desired ends, was to be characterized by the pragmatic use of music as a means to that end. Izawa Shuuji, a young normal school director who nearly single-handedly established the basis for Meiji music education by courting the Ministry of Education’s interest in the influential American educator Luther Whiting Mason and his methods, and working to apply them to Japanese songs and instruments, exemplifies the ambivalence of the Japanese on cultural matters in this volatile period.

In his initial proposals to the Ministry of Education, Izawa shows great reservations concerning the appropriateness of using Japanese music as such in the classroom, citing gagaku, or refined music, as being too high and inaccessible to the common people, and zokkyoku, or popular songs, as being vulgar and unedifying. Since this is leading up to his avowed ultimate aim of compiling a Japanese national music, Izawa’s argument here would appear to be one advocating a new, egalitarian attitude towards society:

“By the national music is meant an establishment of such songs and musics as to be sung and played by us all, the Japanese people, whether high or low, at any place and at any time, without such a distinction of ‘refined’ or ‘common,’ by an assimilation of the best of our music and song proper of old and modern time, with those of the western countries, in case of our deficiency.”1

More significant than any possible egalitarian impulse in this thought is an earlier passage in the same official letter (which was signed solely by Izawa’s superior, of sorts, Foreign Student Supervisor Megata Tanetaroh), in which Western music, having originated in ancient Greece, is put forth as based on nature, and as being therefore in all qualities precise and unchangeable. Japanese music, gagaku notwithstanding, though also descending from a distant origin, is not founded upon natural principles, the letter goes on to say, and is correspondingly incomplete, and somehow unscientific. So in this light the search for a national music is clearly if implicitly to be based primarily upon Western forms and theory. As a phenomenon indicative of the era it is parallel and comparable to the proposal, a few years earlier, by Mori Arinori, Japan’s first diplomatic representative to the United States, that the Japanese language be abolished and replaced by English.

By the 1880s, however, a growing nationalistic consciousness combined with the restoration of Imperial authority and prestige evidently inspired Izawa to modify his stance somewhat regarding the superiority of Western music; in particular, gagaku, with its close moral and religious connections to the court, could not be made to suffer such a devaluation, or be dismissed out of hand. In response to this, and in search of a more solid theoretical basis for the compromise (setchuu) between West and East which was at the heart of the national music ideology (kokugaku), Izawa worked out a fanciful hypothesis to reason how Japanese music, at least the refined music (gagaku), and Western music as well, actually derive from the same source after all. By tracing the ancient roots of classical Japanese music beyond Korea and China to India, endeavoring to establish ‘Hindoo’ elements in certain gagaku compositions, and by implying that Greek music, already having been called the source of Western music, had itself come from India, Izawa managed to create a justification for all of the ‘purer’ forms of Japanese music.

This argument that Japanese and European musics have common ground is reminiscent not only of the earliest Japanese state’s incorporation of Buddhist doctrines, imported from China, into the native Shinto beliefs -- partially to justify the various kami as in actuality incarnations of Buddha -- but also the manner in which Confucian morality was embraced as a means of validating Imperial authority, in the Nara period. Perhaps, also, there is a certain amount of this belief in a shared origin between Western arts and Japanese arts, in the Japanese consciousness, or subconscious, if you will, and if so this might serve to facilitate their learning of Western music.

Let us turn now to the question of Western music itself, and in particular jazz, to see if, in the context of language and culture, there can be any persuasive clues as to whether or not Japanese should become proficient at it. Jazz is an especially interesting topic because of its being perhaps the most quintessentially modern, individualistic, and hence Western, artform. The music known today as modern jazz traces its roots in America back to before the turn of the 20th century, when an amalgam of Negro spirituals and hymns, worksongs and ‘field hollers,’ together with the popular tunes of the day, began to be incorporated with the musical instruments of the military bands, of which some, like the saxophone, were recent inventions. Black Americans, then as now, were the primary innovators of this form of music, which was characterized by the ability to unify disparate elements through the musicians’ skill at improvising spontaneously. This improvisation upon a melody, or later on, quite freely over the chords of a song, independent of the melody, naturally developed its own vocabularies as the music style evolved, and the sound and the feeling of this sort of improvisation not only came to be regarded as the essence of the style known as jazz, but it was precisely those artists who possessed this special talent for coherent improvisation who defined and expanded that vocabulary. Although over time, nearly one hundred years, jazz has splintered off into a seemingly endless number of varieties, from ragtime to Dixieland to swing to bebop to cool to free-jazz to jazz-rock and so on, and has been expressed in all sizes of groupings, from a solo vocalist or pianist up to 20- or 25-piece big bands and jazz orchestras, what is referred to usually as modern jazz originates in the genre known as bebop.

Bebop, or simply bop, is a style which was developed around the time of World War II, usually involving four or five players, typically a saxophone and/or trumpet, piano, bass and drums, in which standard show tunes and popular songs from the 30s and 40s provide the point of departure for elaborate and sophisticated harmonic and melodic variations. While the form of the standard tune is usually retained, theoretically advanced chord substitutions and the highly evolved and virtuosic melodic vocabulary render the tune, to the unfamiliar listener, to be at times completely unrecognizable. To excel at this style of jazz, whose originators were Charlie Parker, Bud Powell, Dizzy Gillespie, Thelonious Monk, and Miles Davis, one has to be thoroughly well-versed in the popular song forms and their harmonic structures, fluent enough on one’s own instrument to manage the complex, abstract but well-defined vocabulary, and to apply it to those harmonic structures, and yet in the final analysis must be able to spontaneously express it according to the whim of the moment.

In short, much must be learned and mastered, as in a foreign language, but the forms and patterns must be merely a jumping-off point for improvisation, and for expressing one’s own personality, or point of view. Despite the particularly specialized demands of this music, in which all players, not just those on the lead instruments, must be adept at improvisation with essentially strict harmonic parameters, and despite (or maybe because of) its beginnings during the war, outstanding Japanese artists have been achieving fairly considerable prominence in the world of modern jazz. A survey of significant contributors to jazz among contemporary Japanese recording and performing artists would have to include Watanabe Sadao, Ichikawa Hideo, Hinoh Terumasa, Itabashi Fumio, Honda Toshiyuki, and above all the by-now legendary pianist and composer, Akiyoshi Toshiko, who alone, remarkably, had already made sufficient inroads in New York in the 1950s to have played with some of the aforementioned American bebop innovators. It has been my privilege, while in Japan, to have met and performed with several of the better-known jazz artists there, and have found nothing in their particular lifestyles which reveal them to be iconoclastic, or the sort of social ‘misfits’ which one might expect, given their occupation in a society which has such clear delineations and consciousness of status levels as does Japan. Indeed, not only do the Japanese seem to be more interested, by and large, in jazz than the American public generally is, compared to other forms of entertainment, (in the same way as could be said for another American import, baseball), but it is the jazz musician of America who appears more alienated from his own society.

It remains, then, for us to examine the various social and cultural factors that might be relevant in determining the naturalness or likelihood of this sort of cross-cultural expression. On the surface of it, of course, there would seem to be a prohibitive degree of difficulty for a Japanese to be able to play jazz, or at least to be fluent, certainly. For starters, the ego of the Japanese person is said to be not as clearly developed as that of a Westerner, such as an American. A child in America is brought up from infancy to perceive itself as an autonomous entity, apart from and distinct from its parents, and to learn to be independent, within defined limits. Already there is a parallel here to the jazz artist’s function, in that his mastery of the improvisational techniques involves responding in a free and individual manner to the requirements of the song form, and within the boundaries of the chord changes. Because the jazz performer must be able to improvise, to play something of his own invention, and in a context others have also done so in, he is aware that he will be compared in his improvisation against others, and so his sense of individuality is necessarily rather well-defined.

He is an artist, or a performer, and so of course his sense of ego may be stronger than average, even in his own culture, but by and large he is the product of his upbringing in this respect, having been left to go to sleep by himself, from infancy, sometimes to cry by himself, and having been expected to eventually make decisions and be responsible for them. His parents, through encouragement as well as through criticism, served to strengthen his sense of separation from others. By contrast, the Japanese child is brought up in an atmosphere in which his own will is not in opposition to another’s, and his closeness and identification with his mother is so strong that the sense of ‘other-ness’ is not developed. In school in Japan, he will be trained to realize his sense of identity in the group, or the class, just as he has earlier been merged with his mother, and the sense of ‘other-ness’ he does acquire will be that of his family as a unit, as set apart, through the use of keigo, from that of his classmates. In addition, because the Japanese child is taught to fit in with the group, and to subsume his identity into the group, and because this is enforced by the use of shame and fear of ridicule, there will be an inherent reticence on the part of the talented individual toward displaying his virtuosity. Thus, there exists something which could be likened to a double-edge sword, serving to inhibit the sort of personal statement that jazz soloing calls for: on the one hand, there is a lack of the willful directness or self-assertion deemed essential in the West for making any really committed creative statement; on the other hand, a profound sense of wanting to blend harmoniously in one’s group, rather than making waves and so risking censure. To the extent that the cultural generalizations put forth by Japanologists such as Tamura and Goldstein hold true, this is then a situation in which the old proverb, ‘nails sticking up will be hammered down,’ aptly applies.

The nature of jazz groups and their formation is, it could be argued, incompatible with Japanese modes of organizational structure. Part of this is resulting from the peculiar nature of artistic or musical enterprises, to be sure. It would not make sense, probably, for a musical group to be based on seniority alone, and in the absence of any sort of criteria for rank, other than seniority -- which would mean length of service in the particular group, length of active career, or simply age -- merit and ability are the overriding concerns. The leader of a jazz group is not necessarily the oldest, but is very possibly the most advanced, from a creative point of view. If he is not the most gifted, or the most successful musician in the group, he will still need to supply adequate leadership to the organization, such as providing the compositions or arrangements to be played, the stylistic direction he has chosen to pursue, in which case the other members are participating simply because they share that aesthetic intent, or finally, the worthwhile lucrative proposition necessary to attract good players in lieu of a viable artistic potential. From a strictly musical standpoint, there is not an inherently vertical or pyramidal structure to a group, as since a musician’s role in a group is according to function, such as ‘bass player,’ there need not be any profound instability if he leaves the group, nor is any of the given musical roles in the group the most crucial. If the bass player leaves, another can be found, and although this subjectively affects the nature of the music, because merit is the primary criterion, in principle, the insertion of an even more talented bass player will make the group sound even better. More significantly, perhaps, in relation to the Japanese capacity to make this style of group work, is that in jazz, each player gets his turn to solo, at which time the others follow and support him; in other words, in a group in which the saxophonist is the lead instrumentalist, and the creative leader as well, when the piano is taking a solo, that player then is ‘holding the floor,’ and is for all intents and purposes leading the group. In any case, then, there is seldom an instance of players being chosen for, or remaining in, a group, for any other reason, or by any other means, than merit, that is, clear and proven ability.

Japanese who are away from home, say in the United States, are able, quite often, to get comfortable with more egalitarian behavior patterns than are the norm in their own cultural background. To an extent, I think it is possible that although the Japanese tend to feel that non-Japanese cannot enter into their world or truly understand the Japanese and their culture, they simultaneously feel on the other hand that they can enter and understand the society of the West. I think this is due to the reciprocal nature of most of English communication. Granted, a Japanese person’s awkwardness at not making the distinctions in verb forms he has long since learned to do automatically can be unsettling to him, this is more than made up for by the fact that by speaking English, he is free from what Herbert Passin calls ‘emotional resonance,’ which I take to mean all the psychological, interpersonal baggage that defines him to be Japanese. When using a foreign language, nuance and connotative value may be present which are unavailable in one’s native language. On the contrary, it is almost inevitable that a certain degree of the attitudes that may be alien to or at least inexpressible in one’s own language are picked up in the process of learning that new one. The consequence is that the use of English, in this case, by Japanese, can be sort of liberating; that is, one can express things in English which would come across rather badly in Japanese, specifically those concepts concerning the self. The existence of such expressions as mai-this and mai-that, Passin suggests, is evidence of increasing individualism, or at least more interest in self-fulfillment, and I am inclined to agree:

“The result is that it is often difficult to express this new individualistic spirit without sounding offensive. The overuse of the term for ‘my’ – watashi no, or ore no, or uchi no – smacks of selfishness. ‘Self’ (jibun) quickly becomes ‘selfishness’ (jibun-katte). It is easier, therefore, to use English, because the words do not evoke the same associations and resistances that Japanese does. The term maihomushugi is therefore a brilliant invention that skillfully expresses the modern notion that the individual and his own private circle or sphere are important…”2

By the same token, then, I imagine that for a Japanese musician, as for a Japanese person visiting America and speaking English, playing jazz could be a liberating experience, giving him an opportunity to express an individuality which might come across as brazen, if applied, for instance, to developing an outlandish new koto style. Whether the individualistic spirit comes first, and impels Japanese to learn English so they can express it, or whether the learning of English itself inherently fosters this spirit, is open to conjecture. As in the earliest Japanese state’s swallowing up, as it were, whole chunks of Chinese language for use as the basis for expressing concepts necessary and fundamental at that time, and in the Meiji period’s turn towards English words for their connotative value, and later evolving subtly different, uniquely Japanese meanings to them, so too it will be fascinating to see if jazz music finds a place of assimilation into a future musical language of Japan. This would be a far-reaching manifestation of wakon yohsai (“Japanese spirit, Western skills”) indeed.

One manner in which Japanese approach interpersonal communication, in fact which their language demands, is the systematic use of keigo forms, to affirm and respond to rank and status differences between people. Although this has been seen already as a contributor to the Japanese self-group awareness that is opposite the Western ego orientation -- and by implication, a capacity to learn and master jazz – in its use of formulae and special vocabulary keigo may provide a clue to the understanding of Western music. Chie Nakane says of keigo that “…the words are there to express what is required in any given situation if only the appropriate forms are part of the awareness of the speaker. In Japanese the awareness of the speaker is the most important element.”3 Similarly, in the learning of bebop jazz a most crucial emphasis is placed on the master of a melodic vocabulary, and a lexicon of harmonic formulae for substituting chords and applying the vocabulary to the various song forms is the tool by which an instrumentalist can eventually, with practice and creativity, achieve fluency at it. With mastery of these forms, a musician can move on to the business at hand, which is expressing himself, just as by skillful use of keigo a speaker of Japanese can impart the meaningful gradations of tone which are so much a part of social interaction.

As far as the transmission and cultivation of jazz ‘culture’ and a jazz community go, it could be argued that similarities to Japanese group structure exist. There is a tendency for jazz musicians, owing to the great diversity of style types under the general banner called ‘jazz’ and the consequent controversies over what constitutes ‘true’ or ‘pure’ jazz, to follow a particular artist and to emulate exclusively that artist and those of his bent. In this manner, a young musician may develop a relationship with an older or more advanced musician, preferably one who has studied with the artist who is the role model of both of them, and this can be a mutually rewarding arrangement. While this may be typical of mentor and protégé relationships in general, the narrowness of focus, and exclusive loyalty, as it were, to a particular ‘school,’ resembles oyabun-kobun relationships, I feel. A retired or semi-retired artist of some esteem will often set up shop, so to speak, as an instructor, gathering around him by the pull of his prestige in the music community a coterie of kobun-like disciples. The services the kobun, in this case, might be expected to provide for the oyabun could include taking over the instruction of less advanced students, performing certain concerts or engagements the senior man doesn’t care for or hasn’t time for, and so on. This sort of relationship among aspiring artists and their superiors also bears a distinct resemblance to the institution of iemoto, as it applies to the traditional Japanese art forms such as noh drama and hohgaku. This is a bit more extreme in rigidity than the sort of relationship ordinarily seen in the jazz world I’m familiar with, which I have been alluding to, but is close enough in principle that it could well be characteristic of the Japanese version, for which it sets a precedent, as described by Chie Nakane:
“The members of different schools hardly ever play together, although they share basically the same texts, and one will not attend the plays of other schools than his own…Not only do they not mix with members of other schools in the same field but also they do not change their master within the same school. It is highly appreciated if every individual keeps the vertical line once established between the master and his disciple….One realizes here the far-reaching structural implications of the golden rule of Japanese ethics ‘No man can serve two masters.’”4

In the traditional Japanese instrumental music known as hohgaku there are qualities which are to me seemingly at variance with the Japanese cultural patterns we have been discussing, such as the subordination of the individual ego into the group. Pieces involving two stringed instruments such as koto and shamisen, for example, make use of effects in which notes in unison are deliberately plucked out of phase, so that the timbre of each instrument can be appreciated distinctly. The well-known classic for koto and voice, Chidori no kyoku, features a counterpoint between the two in which, after being in synchronization for some time, one or the other will lag pleasantly behind, or dart ahead. Shakuhachi (bamboo flute) is used to give a lonely, highly individual personal statement, when played unaccompanied, as it often is.

I have often been puzzled with, and have long wondered at, the fact that in some ways the musics of East (including, but not exclusively, Japan) and West reflect opposite attributes to their cultures’ respective social or personal behavior patterns. Specifically, in the West, where individualism has been exalted as a value greater than that of the society, and harmony therein, music since the Middle Ages developed harmony, and continued development raised it to exceedingly great sophistication, be it in ‘classical’ or ‘jazz,’ while in the Eastern lands such as Japan, where a premium was placed on harmony and the subservience of the individual will to the greater good of society, music follows a solitary, if equally worthwhile, path of refining pure melody and rhythm alone, in which the yearnings of the human heart and soul are expressed in one voice at a time. Could it be that music expresses a side of a people’s character in a counterbalance to its societal needs or inclinations? I see the Asian’s innate ego-group self-image in close correspondence to the symphony orchestra of the West, in which no one part is important enough to stand alone, yet some are more crucial to the power of the unit than others, and are all devoted to the whole, the totality of the group. As suggested above, the strong will and well-defined individual ego of the West, one could imagine, if expressed aurally in music, could be very much like the lonely monophony of a shakuhachi or koto solo. Ultimately, it makes me suspect that on balance there are deeper intrinsic qualities in music that can touch people, and as language can sometimes be most profound by leaving something unsaid, or by giving a shading of a nuance or tone, so too music is functioning to please, push, and also to probe into the nature of human life. That Japan, in the final analysis, is indeed learning and adapting from the world outside herself, I take as a given, and it is with a similar spirit of willingness to absorb and expand, while remaining zealous for continuity, to what enables the Japanese to make jazz ‘their own,’ that I hope and expect America will face the future.

Notes

1. Ury Eppstein, Musical Instruction in Meiji Education: A Study of Adaptation and Assimilation, in Michael Cooper, ed., Monumenta Nipponica, Sophia Univ., Tokyo, spring 1985, vol. 40, no. 1, p. 13

2. Herbert Passin, Japanese and the Japanese; Language and Culture Change, Kinseido Ltd., Tokyo, 1980; p. 27

3. Bernice Z. Goldstein and Kyoko Tamura, Japan and America; A Comparative Study in Language and Culture, Tuttle Co., 1975, p. 144-145

4. Chie Nakane, Japanese Society, Univ. of CA. Press, 1970, p. 58-59

My Favorite Giant

2005-03-15T13:05:00.000-08:00

Bobby Bonds, 1946-2003

I've loved baseball ever since Tim, the boy next door, invited me over in spring of '63 to see his glossy photos of Willie Mays and Willie McCovey, and to listen to Giants baseball on the radio.

Those two living legends were heroes of mine as a boy, but the baseball player whom I loved the most arrived when I was in my teens, as Mays and McCovey were aging, but still around. Bobby Bonds ran like the wind, on the basepaths as well as patrolling right field at Candlestick Park. He had a great arm and fine instincts along with his speed and batting power. He struck out a lot, but also bashed homers, including leading off the ballgame, putting the crowd in a dither before they had unwrapped their hot dogs and taken their seats.

Giants fans often talk about the sad day when Willie Mays was traded, but for me the trade of Bobby Bonds, in his prime, was really heartbreaking. Nobody generated that much hope and excitement in the orange and black for me anyway, until, well, Barry Bonds. It made me happy that Bobby returned many years later to serve as Giants batting coach, and got to be close at hand as his son Barry toppled record after record.

My CD Review of Luis Garay's "Sacumba" on jazznow.com

2004-06-17T14:03:00.000-07:00

Luis Garay Percussion World
Sacumba
Percumba Records LG2209
Luis Garay, Wilbur Wood, Leon Eynatyan, Miguel Alfaro, drums, marimba, Argentinian drums, Afro-Latin percussion, etc.

This is an adventurous and highly enjoyable trip around the world of Afro-Latin percussion through the eyes, ears and hands of multi-instrumentalist Luis Garay. Perhaps most notable about Sacumba is Garay's fashioning a cohesive and satisfying musical ensemble from a unit of four players, playing nothing other than percussion instruments. It's a tribute to his leadership and artistry that his own individual virtuosity was de-emphasized in favor of the ensemble sound itself, and that the arrangements manage to sustain interest throughout. Even those not fanatical about drums and percussion will find something fresh and enjoyable here.

A native of Cordoba, Argentina, where he was highly accomplished both as a performer and an educator in symphonic, Latin and other musical fields, Garay has continued his successes since emigration to the U.S. Now based in Washington, D.C., Garay brings a special focus and orientation to percussion, and to "Afro-Latin" music. There is an exposure to Argentinian instruments and approaches (as distinct both from non-South American ones, and from those of neighboring Brazil) which is different from what might be heard from many or most such ensembles. Not to worry, as Garay also is quite adept and knowledgable regarding the Brazilian aspects too, so he is able to bring an original fusion of elements together to convey what he calls "the passion and inspiration of the drum."

A particular favorite of mine is tuned percussion instruments such as the marimba, a wooden keyboard played with mallets, and this instrument is used evocatively in a number of settings. It conveys an Asian flavor on "Afro-Chin," and just as effectively brings Mexico and Central America to my mind on "Marimba Azucar."

This release is one well worth seeking out, both for percussion lovers interested in a new twist or two, and for anyone else open to something crisp and tastefully different. Neither bombastic nor monotonous, Sacumba provides us a compelling introduction both to a noteworthy artist in Afro-Latin music, and also to the vitalily of percussion ensembles themselves.

by Eric Golub

My CD Review of Andy Narell's "The Passage" on jazznow.com

2004-06-17T12:50:00.000-07:00

Andy Narell
The Passage
Heads Up International HUCD 3086
Andy Narell, tenor, double second, and quaduet steel pans, with Calypsociation (34-player steel orchestra including bandleaders Mathieu Borgne, drums and percussion, and Laurent Lalsingue, tenor and double second); plus guest soloists Michael Brecker, tenor sax; Paquito D'Rivera, alto sax; Hugh Masekela, flugelhorn

Even if you have never been to the West Indies, or haven't yet come under the spell of the sound of the magnificent steel pan orchestras which originated there, this release may be an exceptional introduction. But if you have already been enthralled by steel pans, with their shimmery tones and calypso syncopations, or by the pioneering work Andy Narell has done for decades in applying them to Jazz, you will find The Passage a non-stop delight.

Narell says he's "trying to redefine the art of the steelband recording," and indeed this new project is the fruit of the best technical, musical and creative efforts coming together. Part of the impetus for this is that listeners to a pan orchestra often are free to walk inside the band, finding space to stand and listen in between the sections. This is really the way steel bands are best heard and appreciated, but apparently they have never before been recorded so painstakingly, with the intent to convey this sonic pleasure. So the result of this labor of love --- even in my standard stereo version (the CD is also available in surround sound) --- is a breathing, truly "panoramic" sound, enabling the listener to really feel the spatial spread, depth of field and clarity of inner parts which these large orchestras offer in the live setting.

Best known in the U.S. for his many albums and record appearances as a gifted soloist and arranger for the instruments, Narell has been a creative and tireless advocate for their inclusion in Jazz and other not-strictly-Caribbean idioms. Significantly, he has been acclaimed in their birthplace as well, garnering unprecedented invitations as an outsider to arrange for the Panorama steelband competition there.

Complementing and justifying its sonic and technical achievements, which are remarkable, there is Narell's musical vision. Increasingly concentrating on advancing the tradition of arranging and presenting the classic steelband, even more than his already widely-acknowledged Jazz brilliance as steel pan soloist, Narell has added a third element of interest: the showcasing of fine Jazz soloists with steelband accompaniment. Noting that "a lot of Jazz musicians don't take steelband music seriously," Narell wanted to assure that these soloists experienced themselves as playing with "a tight, swinging big band," as his 34-person Calypsociation demonstrably is. For listeners such as this writer, who most enjoy hearing fresh improvisations, particularly in stimulating settings, The Passage is a big winner most of all because of the success of these showcases, a feature of the 3 standout cuts on the CD.

On "Song For Mia," Michael Brecker on tenor saxophone is warmly sinuous and gruff, yet wittily urbane, making this fresh treatment of the biguine dance beat perhaps the album's most striking sonic surprise. Paquito D'Rivera's exuberant and inspired alto saxophone solo on the 3/4 mazooka rhythm on "Mabouya" was a revelation to me. D'Rivera manages to combine the best woody aspects of clarinet tone with the best reed-and-brass boldness of the saxophone in his soloing, and his spontaneity is a joy to hear. Finally, on the haunting "Dee Mwa Wee," Hugh Masekela delivers a wise, wistful and deeply soulful flugelhorn improv over an irresistible 12/8 African groove.

The Passage is enthusiastically recommended on musical and technical grounds, as well as the "freshness factor."

by Eric Golub

Jazz Now Interactive June 2004 Vol 14 No. 2

My book review of E. Taylor Atkins' "Jazz Planet" on jazznow.com

2004-04-17T12:42:00.000-07:00

Jazz Planet
Edited by E. Taylor Atkins
University Press of Mississippi (Jackson), 292 pages
Includes Notes, Bibliography and Index

An ambitious collection of more than a dozen essays which raises a good deal of questions, Jazz Planet may serve for many people as a first look at the study of Jazz as a global, or rather transnational, phenomenon. Nearly equal parts ethnomusicology, socio-anthropology or historiography, this collection won't be an easy read for the uninitiated or non-academic. But for the editor who spearheaded the collection, E. Taylor Atkins, a lauded scholar on Jazz in Japan, it's a labor of love. Indeed, for those of us interested in such questions as what is or isn't Jazz, or whether Jazz is uniquely American (or even uniquely African-American), there is plenty of food for thought here.

Though Atkins takes as a given that the African (and African-American) roots of Jazz are primary, in his introduction he persuasively argues that Jazz has not only been used as an "instigator" of globalization, but has also been a product of it. And his and other essays in this book demonstrate how this global or transnational trend of "cultural hybridization" has been taking place at least as long as there has been "Jazz." That is, thanks to the rise of the recording and entertainment industries as a worldwide development, Jazz was introduced nearly everywhere as a product of the United States, or of "the West." In no time at all, Jazz was not only embraced abroad as a sound of modernity or freedom, but also resisted as an agent of colonization or cultural dominance. Meanwhile, as the existing music cultures in these countries interact with Jazz, it's only natural that new interpretations will arise. One reward of delving into Jazz Planet is tracing how new hybrids of Jazz take shape, as musicians reflecting that interaction seek an authentic voice which can be related to the local traditions or context.

Aside from his own fine introductory essay and overall thematic guidance, Atkins' book benefits most from the analysis of several of the non-U.S. writers here, including insightful views of "Local Heroes" in places such as Brazil, Cuba, and Europe. Rather than merely present narrative histories about Jazz in these locales, these writers use Jazz to explore how non-American artists "heeded the Jazz aesthetic's demand to constantly "innovate" and transform the music," as Atkins puts it. In other words, important individual voices and contributions to the Jazz idiom also have come from outside the U.S., just as organically as in the original African-American context, wherever divergent musical traditions intermingled and exchanged inspiration.

by Eric Golub

Jazz Now Interactive April 2004 Vol 13 No. 11

My book review of David Bradbury's "Armstrong" on jazznow.com

2004-04-17T12:40:00.000-07:00

Armstrong
by David Bradbury
Life & Times paperback, Haus Publishing (UK), 170 pages
Includes Notes, Index, Chronology and Further Listening references

In this new biography of Louis "Satchmo" Armstrong, British author David Bradbury deftly balances history and hearsay, musicology and sociology. The result is a quick and fun read which enables us to feel how Louis Armstrong was shaped by his times and circumstances. Even more than that, we can see how deeply he touched and transformed music, and his world.

Bradbury draws upon the first-person accounts of the legendary Jazz innovator, which over the years contradict one another at times, as though the legendary Jazz pioneer fashioned new takes or interpretations of events over the years. Fortunately, many other sources were also sought out, including quite a number of fresh interviews the author was able to obtain while working as a British journalist in New York. What emerges is perhaps not a surprise to Armstrong's legions of fans and admirers, but I was struck by how his flexibility as a musician and entertainer was matched by his decency as a man. That Satchmo was never belligerent and seldom strident, in the face of pressures from many sides, and in the context of turbulent times, is remarkable.

Indeed, Armstrong increasingly saw himself painted as "behind the times" as far as the social consciousness and advancement of African-Americans. Bradbury handles this nicely, succeeding in showing us a man whose frankness in speaking, on occasion, about injustice or dishonesty, could rival that of his singing and cornet playing. It is a treat to savor how Louis could cut to the heart of the matter without prejudice, whether it be in his relations with Presidents, pimps or promoters.

The best part of this concise but rich account is how Louis absorbed and applied musical ideas and styles from all around him, effortlessly synthesizing them and expressing them so naturally in his horn and voice. As expected, there is abundant evidence of how much Armstrong influenced so many others musically. More than that, I was impressed by the loyalty Louis demonstrated towards key individuals in his life story, and by a sense of trust he had in his own path, his own voice. My best recommendation for this book is that this total picture, for me, makes his music resound even more brightly.

Blue Balkan CD review in Vintage Vinyl

2002-01-23T09:28:00.000-08:00

Larry Vuckovich, "Blue Balkan Then & Now," Tetrachord Music. This is a perfectly fine album of solid jazz. Vuckovich plays piano, and has a nice firm style. But the most distinctive musician here is Eric Golub, who contributes a stirring violin on eight of the thirteen cuts. The idea of this CD is to reissue a 1981 album, and augment it with a few newly recorded tunes by many of the same musicians on the original. I can't really tell the difference offhand between the two eras of recording.

--- Steve Pick, 1/23/02

http://www.vintagevinyl.com/cs_i.asp?ArticleId=012302.htm