 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
Cellist Peggy Lee is a cornerstone of Vancouver's
Cello Talk Top Jazz Players How different the course of jazz history, and 20th-century music as a whole, would have been had the great tenor saxophonist Coleman Hawkins stuck to his original ax—the cello. Had he played the cello on just one of his many history-making recordings, the instrument would have been assimilated into mainstream jazz music decades ago. But until the 1970s, the cello was very much a marginal jazz instrument. It had high-profile exponents in the ’50s and ’60s, but they were musicians who made their reputations as bassists, like Oscar Pettiford. At the same time, classically trained cellists like Fred Katz—a member of the Chico Hamilton Quintet, the seminal chamber-jazz ensemble of the mid-1950s—flew, for the most part, under the radar of the critical establishment. So the appearance of several innovative jazz cellists in the ’70s had a revolutionary impact. Cellists such as Abdul Wadud and David Eyges found inspiration from Delta blues guitarists as often as from bass players, and they gave the cello a new flexibility in moving between lead and support roles within small ensembles. Unfortunately, seminal Wadud recordings, like his self-produced solo album By Myself (Bisharra BR/101), are out of print, but the period is well-represented by a new Eyges compilation of early ’80s recordings, Crossroads (Cadence Jazz Records). These performances with two free-jazz legends—drummer Sunny Murray and Byard Lancaster, who plays alto and soprano saxophones, flute, and piccolo—have lost none of their fire. On these pieces Eyges played a standard cello instead of the electric instrument he now uses exclusively. His current instrument has its strong points; like an electric bass, it can cut through the surges of Synergy (In & Out 77033-2), a recording by Eyges’ cooperative power trio of the same name, with alto player Arthur Blythe and drummer Abe Speller. It also projects warmth in intimate duo programs such as Today’s Blues (CIMP 158), which also features Blythe, and Night Leaves (Brownstone 9708), with the late pianist Jaki Byard. Still, the twang on the bluesy "Crossroads" and the dark arco luster on the evocative "Oasis" make a case for Eyges’ periodic return to the acoustic instrument. The other striking aspect of the album is the low-keyed intensity of Eyges’ compositions: he knows how to keep a tune simmering without boiling over, and as a result Lancaster and Murray’s notorious maverick sensibilities are channeled into sharply focused performances. Crossroads is an intersection in the cello’s jazz history that’s well worth revisiting. Cellist Diedre Murray and the late bass giant Fred Hopkins formed one of the great jazz strings collaborations of the ’80s and ’90s. Prophecy (About Time 1009) is a newly released 1990 quartet date with electric guitarist Brandon Ross and drummer Newman Baker that, perhaps for the last time on record, confirms their unique rapport. Murray’s compositional fluency allows her to incorporate everything from calypso to doo-wop into smart, memorable tunes, but the quartet’s distinctive string-based sound prevents the program from dissipating into a hodgepodge. As a soloist, Murray swings hard on the up-tempo pieces, her arco technique often nailing the cry of a horn; on ballads like "Song for the Lost People," she endows each note with yearning and heartbreak. Yet the most satisfying aspect of the date is the give-and-take between Murray and Hopkins, two consummate artists who brought out the best in each other each time they played. On Skin (Siam 50008), Erik Friedlander’s second recording with Topaz, his quartet with alto saxophonist Andy Laster, electric bassist Stomu Takeishi, and percussionist Satoshi Takeishi, Friedlander pays homage to Wadud and Hemphill with two pieces from Hemphill’s seminal mid-’70s album, Coon Bid’ness (reissued in the late ’90s as Reflections on Black Lion). Built upon a tersely bowed vamp, keening alto lines, and a compelling rhythmic undertow, "Skin 1" is classic Hemphill-Wadud; Friedlander’s arrangement benefits from the supple electric bass and alto unisons (Laster’s cogency stems, in part, from his membership in the sextet that still bears Hemphill’s name). Friedlander engages the Atlas Cello Quartet for a powerful recasting of Hemphill’s "Reflections," one of the composer’s great adagios, with breathtaking results. Though the program ranges from a suave take on Henry Mancini’s "Susan" to Balkan-tinged pieces, Friedlander doesn’t dabble in mere eclecticism; he is a passionate soloist, a versatile composer, and an able ensemble leader who is putting considerable distance between himself and the other emergent cellists on the New York scene. Rufus Cappadocia and Tomas Ulrich are two cellists on the downtown scene equipped to make career strides similar to Friedlander’s, given the right breaks. Cappadocia is best known for his work with reedman Matt Darriau’s Paradox Trio (actually a quartet rounded out by guitarist Brad Shepik and dumbek virtuoso Seido Salifoski), a leading exponent of the Balkan music boomlet of the past few years. While Source (Knitting Factory 237) adds Klezmer (and guest singer Loren Sklamberg) to their usual confluence of Bulgarian, Romanian, and Turkish materials, the emphasis is still on technically exacting dances and seductive off-speed pieces, all of which are in odd meters. Cappadocia’s precision serves him well on the more deliriously paced tracks, and his expressive arco work adds effective, exotic color. Ulrich’s recent recordings include Tag (CIMP 175), with pianist Yuko Fujiyama’s String Ensemble (a trio with violinist Mark Feldman), and For Guy Debord (Barking Hoop 001), an adventurous album-length composition by percussionist Kevin Norton. Fujiyama’s compositions meld Impressionism, Neoclassicism (as in Stravinsky, not Wynton Marsalis), and postmodern jazz, allowing this empathetic trio to shine both as an ensemble and as soloists. Ulrich also rises to the many challenges of Norton’s heady nine-part work, holding his own in heavy company that includes saxophonist Anthony Braxton. Many of the innovative cellists in jazz and improvised music, however, are based as far away from New York as Vancouver and Amsterdam. Tristan Honsiger and Ernst Reijseger are central figures on the A-dam scene but have rarely recorded together; their tumultuous trio with bass player Ernst Glerum is one reason pianist Misha Mengelberg and the ICP Orchestra’s Jubilee Varia (Hatology 528) is a notable release. Their other recent projects also merit attention. Honsiger performs with violist-composer Ig Henneman’s Henneman String Quartet (which includes violinist Mary Oliver and bassist Wilbert de Joode) on the perspective-shifting Pes (Wig 05). Though they are closer in temperament to 20th-century string-quartet literature than the jazz tradition, Henneman’s works incorporate improvisation, which yields unexpected pleasures; the notated passages veer and change gears like an improviser in mid-flight. Cello Voche (Winter & Winter 910 037-2), Reijseger’s collaboration with the traditional Sardinian vocal group Tenore e Cuncordu de Orosei, blurs the line between postmodern improvisation and folk music. The beauty of the music is greatly enhanced by a sumptuous recording made in a Sardinian cathedral. A cornerstone of Vancouver’s thriving improvised-music scene, Peggy Lee has gifts as a free improviser that have been well-documented on two duo albums—Western Front, Vancouver 1996 (Hatology 513), with Portuguese violinist Carlos Zingaro, and These Are Our Shoes (Spool 102), with her husband, percussionist Dylan van der Schyff. So it is unsurprising that the recent The Peggy Lee Band (Spool 105) is a thoroughly engaging album. The surprise, however, is Lee’s compositions, which are varied and pungently arranged for a sextet featuring trumpeter Brad Turner, trombonist Jeremy Berkman, electric guitarist Tony Wilson, electric bassist Chris Tarry, and van der Schyff. On several pieces, Lee’s well-honed melodies and her feathering of brass and strings prompt comparisons with Bill Frisell, Kenny Wheeler, and others; elsewhere, her quick cuts between spiky notated materials and wide-open improvised space create jarring juxtapositions. On this debut, Lee the composer has a good bead on making her ensemble her instrument, but not at the expense of Lee the improvising cellist. Frances-Marie Uitti and Matt Turner also create compelling improvised music. Uitti’s calling card is the use of unconventional bows and bowing techniques; she has, at different points in her career, used a curved bow and two regular bows to build contrasting accents, timbres, and dynamics into stunning multiple-voiced statements. Her two-bow technique dovetails with the vivid textures of bass player Mark Dresser on Sonomondo (Cryptogramophone 104) to create a series of bracing soundscapes. Though it is a thoroughly abstract program, it doesn’t keep its emotional distance. Turner employes only one standard bow on The Mouse That Roared (Meniscus 002). Still, he not only demonstrates a consistent ability to construct sturdy pieces with such techniques as rapid switching between arco and pizzicato, and tapping cross rhythms with the bow and the left hand, but he deftly handles jazz cadences and Middle Eastern folk materials as well. If the last work in a program is somehow defining, Turner’s Adagio marks him as having a romantic core. Together, Uitti and Turner offer a composite view of where the cello is headed in free improvised music (a genre not synonymous with jazz): a strong emphasis on extended technique; a diminution, but not an elimination, of jazz and ethnic music from the materials mix; and the ability to push emotional buttons that keep audiences engaged. —Bill Shoemaker
|
