One-Track Mind [1] “I Loves You Porgy” by Bill Evans

The first five notes of Bill Evans’s take on the Gershwin/ Heyward folk opera aria “I Loves You Porgy” are an intoxicating, atmospheric invitation to one of the most beautiful collaborations by a jazz trio, rivaled (in my mind) only by that same trio’s rendition of another tune from Porgy and Bess, “My Man’s Gone Now.”

The track begins with Evans playing a single note on the keyboard, and as the melody builds slowly upward, a line descends from the initial tone until the chord is fully realized on the downbeat.  The bass joins with a dull pluck balanced by the first of many extended shimmers from the cymbal.  It’s expected at this point for the musical tension of an introductory partial measure to be resolved, but in this case we gladly endure the suspense of an extra note (the first syllable of “Porgy,” if you’re familiar with the lyric).

5 – 10 – 15 – 20

Inspired by the Pitchfork interview model (in which people discuss “the music they loved at five-year interval points in their lives” with the goal of getting “a detailed roadmap of how their tastes and passions helped make them who they are” or learning something odd and obscure) and prodded by [ dan ], I hereby submit my list.

Like any exercise, this task reveals some trends but leaves out hugely significant ones.  I need a separate entry explaining the absence of pop culture influence through the typically formative years.  My family’s odd relationship with music (and most other consumer goods) as well as my inability to take a critical stance on this documentary will play into that entry.  Until then..exchange your grandma’s dollar for tokens…I’ve got a fever that’s driving me crazy!!

Age 5 | “Pac Man Fever” (Buckner & Garcia)

I don’t remember the presence of too many records in our house growing up, but I can vividly recall this album’s iconic cover and the giddy feelings conjured by hearing the sounds associated with Aladdin’s Castle in the Carbondale mall coming out of our huge record player/stereo console.

Clear evidence that I experienced this musical masterwork on vinyl: the first four songs are burned in my memory, while the last four are totally unfamiliar.

Age 10 | “Rock Me Amadeus” (Falco)

Regarded by some as the “the single worst pop song recorded in the entire decade of the 1980s,” I must have liked something about this mess of a synth-pop-chant tribute to Wolfgang.

My brother got me the cassette of Falco 3 as a present, and I gave it back to him when the other songs “weren’t as good” as “Rock Me Amadeus.”  Classic.

Age 15 | “Recipe for Love” (Harry Connick, Jr.)

While others were in the throes of adolescent angst and smelling teen spirit, I was happily swingin’ to the big band sounds of Harry Connick, Jr.  Sarah introduced me to this disc, and I eventually came to appreciate Harry as a piano player more than a singer.  He doesn’t play much on this album, and the tracks alternate “happy”/”sad” a bit too drastically and predictably, but I can trace my interest in jazz piano to recordings such as this one from high school.

And Miles to go…

A photo from a 2007 Allerton Music Barn jazz performance

I’ll admit having mixed feelings when Sarah got us tickets to the Allerton Music Barn Festival’s presentation of Beyond Cool.  To be sure, I was excited about the chance to hear some great (important, even) jazz performed by Illinois music faculty using the original Miles Davis nonet/Gil Evans orchestrations.  But an un-air conditioned barn in central Illinois is late August?  That sounded far from “beyond cool.”

I’m happy to report that the forces of global warming were held at bay, and the evening was actually quite cool –in the mid-60s, in fact– and there was much to admire and appreciate about the experience.  First, the venue is incredible.  It is, indeed, a formerly working hundred-year-old barn, fully and beautifully restored with an upper-level concert space that seats almost 200.  I must admit that I’m not certain why the space was converted: yes, it’s a chance to cross promote U of I initiatives with the School of Music hosting events at Allerton Park, but the 35 minute drive each way did make Smith Hall on campus seem just as appropriate.

The first half of the program featured several selections from The Birth of the Cool, the 1957 compliation of singles from the Miles Davis nonet (which includes a French horn and tuba, so seeing and hearing that instrumentation was an experience in itself).  The second half used the same instrumentation to go “beyond cool,” showcasing compositions or arrangements by the faculty.  I have an unabashed bias toward piano-centric bebop, so while the “cool” style played by such a large ensemble isn’t exactly my first choice, the commitment, skill, and passion of the players provided ample compensation.  Chip McNeill’s alto sax, Jeff Helgesen’s trumpet, and Chip Stephens’ keyboard (especially his solos in the second half) were all highlights.

As much as I listen to and love jazz, this performance made me realize how deficient I am in knowledge of history, movements, and styles.  I know the “cool” of this concert leans a bit too close to the “smooth” of jazz today, but I’m also a fan of Bill Evans, who you’ll find categorized as “cool” or “post-bop” as well.  So in addition to continued listening, I think it’s finally time to add a certain Ken Burns documentary to my Netflix queue.

Top Three Live Performance Events

In no particular order:

The Kenny Barron Trio, Village Vanguard NYC March 2005

Though I’d dabbled in jazz for a while, I was a very casual listener until my evening at the Vanguard.  My jazz exposure was limited a couple major discs by Miles Davis and John Coltrane and a few random things I’d picked up from friends. 

After a trip on the 1 Train down to the West Village, I found myself in the presence of an art form that I’ve grown to love:  the jazz piano trio.  Kenny Barron’s smart playing–neither too spare nor too showy in ornament and improvisation–was certainly the highlight of the experience, but I found myself appreciating the truly collaborative effort of playing in a jazz combo.  I was too new to the scene to remember what they played, but the evening was an important one, opening my awareness to great jazz pianists like McCoy Tyner, Cedar Walton, Thelonious Monk, Bill Evans, Ahmad Jamal, Phineas Newborn, Jr., …and all of their collaborators. 

Sweeney Todd, Eugene O’Neill Theater NYC March 2005

John Doyle’s actor-musician production of Sweeney Todd  brought the act and art of storytelling to the fore and managed to make Patti LuPone back into an ensemble member.   People unfamilar with score and story claim the plot and characterization may have been muddled in the process of the stripping the revenge tale to its core, but I didn’t find this to be the case.  In fact, the doubling of character and instrument actually enriched the experience for me.  I’d never had much interest in the young love/Anthony and Johanna story before, but the sonic and physical gravity lent by their twin cellos strengthened their presence.  (It also helped that Doyle stifled any audience response through applause until after the first rendering of “Johanna”).  There was so much to appreciate in this production–between the strength of the score and story themselves, the performances, and the “work” of the show being produced right in front of you–that I actually saw this twice.

Twelfth Night, The New Globe Bankside London July 2002

While I enjoyed all aspects of this original practices production at the Globe (meaning all casting, costuming, and music/effects choices must adhere to the practices of the Elizabethan theater), the experience was definitely made by Mark Rylance as Olivia.    Though there is much to call artificial about his performance, the rendering of Olivia’s sorrow that eventually turns to comic love was completely effective.  I remember his movements around the stage seeming as if the character were floating around instead of walking.  The cast erupting into a ridiculously festive dance after the performance added to the atmospheric perfection of the experience.  Being footsteps from the Thames in an open-air reconstruction of the Globe didn’t hurt, either.