By Nathaniel Friedman
Good luck finding an article on Tom Harrell that doesnÃÂÃÂÃÂÃÂt mention his schizophrenia. The fifty-five year-old trumpeter is known as much for his condition as his pellucid playing and composing, despite the fact that his music rarely invokes the ravages of mental illness. Yet for many, his preeminent standing in the world of jazz makes his condition even more compelling. If a mentally ill artist produces incoherent, demented music, itÃÂÃÂÃÂÃÂs at best valuable as "outsider art." But in Harrell's case, you have someone producing work that's inspired by any set of standards--inevitably introducing the myth that mental illness and creativity are somehow linked.
Harrell's recent Paradise, a ravishing set of "with strings" experiments, offers some of his most nakedly emotive music on record. When I read one reviewerÃÂÃÂÃÂÃÂs rather indelicate assessment of Paradise as "a window into a tortured mind," it struck me as childish--if not a bit offensive. Though certainly a introspective record, Paradise is by no means turbulent or brooding. In fact, the album at times threatens to make introspection into something generous, even interpersonal (a hard pill to swallow for us more solipsistic listeners). This is wisdom about joy and sorrow, not field recordings of the disturbed. Still, Harrell himself is by no means opposed to discussing his condition, or even its potential relationship with this music.
"I'm sure that some of the emotions I feel during different times in my life come through in the music that I write, play and improvise. I want my music to be autobiographical and refer to my life. Every song you write can be about something in your life; there can be inspirations from everywhere in your life."
With titles like "Sunrise," "Daybreak" and "Wind Chant," it often seems as if the writing on Paradise aspires toward the concrete. Some, like the two-part "Morning Prayer," are virtual emotional snapshots. One of the albumÃÂÃÂÃÂÃÂs most plangent tracks, "Morning Prayer" is as much about a specific time and place as a generalized mood.
"When we [Harrell and wife/manager Angela] first moved into our new apartment, I started writing "Morning Prayer", and it was a kind of melancholy piece to begin with, but then it went into a more hopeful mood towards the end. So I wanted to express that these were two of the emotions that were associated with my life at the time--and still are, actually." Perhaps this is what Harrell means in his insistence on the "autobiographical" quality of music: even if music does not communicate objects or events, the mood it produces is always tethered in a specific emotional experience, not an abstracted generality.
Just as the mood of Paradise relies on perspective, HarrellÃÂÃÂÃÂÃÂs approach to the strings is admirably omnivorous. The trumpeter was well aware of the potential pitfalls of the project; to prevent the strings from becoming little more than atmospheric window dressing, he insisted they be recorded live with the basic sextet. And, although the material required a certain amount of the instrumentsÃÂÃÂÃÂÃÂ familiar gentleness, Harrell had no desire to deploy them simply as a sweetener--or to let them set a low-key tone for the session.
"[Strings] do lend themselves beautifully to a romantic sound, or a subdued sound. But they also can be extremely vibrant and energetic. Like in the string quartets by Bartok, or the orchestral writing by Stravinsky. They both write very innovative and driving music for strings. And strings work very well in the jazz idiom. There have been many great violin players in jazz, and also the string sections can play jazz rhythms, so they can be a component in a jazz orchestra. Strings are in a way a universal kind of instrument. You find stringed instruments in all cultures, and the sound of the stringed instrument is kind of an international sound."
There was one sound, though, that Harrell kept in the front of his mind throughout his work on the project--one which, in its blurring of the line between joy and sorrow, left an indelible imprint on the personality of the music.
"Pretty much the entire album was in a way inspired by the Mediterranean, and the feelings that you have when you visit the coast: the beautiful winding roads, the trees. . . I heard some flamenco singing a couple of years ago, and I was really drawn to it. ItÃÂÃÂÃÂÃÂs really music that you can feel how itÃÂÃÂÃÂÃÂs coming from the earth. The sound of the music is really heartfelt, and I tried to put that into the songs on the album."
Which might explain why, as a friend of mine put it, Paradise so often verges on a kind of hyper-charged Sketches with Spain, the emotional sweep of Miles' classic rendered streamlined and whip-smart. This may be the quintessential "with strings" project, but Harrell has rewritten the rules and shrewdly expanded the definitions. If you can imagine tenderness with a pirate hat and a doctorate, you're halfway there.
