October 2001

Open Ears
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By Laurence Donohue-Greene One of the most distinctive guitarists to come around in a while has been Marc Ribot, who can pride himself in accomplishing the accolade by performing in anything but a specific style per se. His refusal to be pigeonholed has set him head and shoulders above his contemporaries and colleagues alike. Ribot’s work has been fairly well documented as both a leader and sideman, and with each new project, Ribot takes yet another step of originality as player, composer, and interpreter.

His latest release, a solo outing, recorded for Atlantic Records (his third for the label and ninth or so as a leader), is entitled Saints. The record release was coordinated the day after its official release--and what turned out to be a week and a day after the tragic World Trade Center attack. Pre-show conversations revealed the lingering effects of the tragedy, which of course continue to carry over to this day and will do so for many days to come. Pre-show music mixed Marley and reggae remixes. And as Marley did during his day, Ribot too inevitably would serve as the focus of bringing a group of people together for a night of music (some would say the ultimate of healers), and perhaps even something more. Ribot, in his respectful manner, as if to acknowledge the emotions circling the room, simply walked onto the stage of Joe’s Pub, took his seat around the various microphones, and without a word began his solo set. His ensuing music served as both an escape from the recent reality and state of mind everyone has had to deal with, as well as a music parallel to the actual current events both in mood and even song title(s). He basically left it up to each individual listener to decide for him/herself whether they wanted to interpret the sounds and intentions from his set or simply take it for what it was worth, potential underlying intentions aside.

With a décor sparsely lit by candles, purple neon glow lights, and dimmed modern chandeliers over the bar area, Joe’s Pub here in Manhattan turned out to be quite the appropriate venue for the moody occasion. You could hear a pin drop during Ribot’s many quiet and subtle moments in the normally social and rambunctious nightspot located in the East Village. Just to give you an idea--hearing the subway rumble underneath the club was actually a new sound that I had never realized existed from my previous visits! During the acoustic moments, Ribot’s rocking back and forth with the subsequent creak from his chair gave the impression of a front porch music gathering. With his head shrunken over his shoulder stance and eyes shut, a mysterious Nick Drake, Lenny Breau quality shadowed the sounds from his fingers, guitar strings, and silhouette.

There was a relentless concentration Ribot exhibited even between tunes--he certainly didn’t have the option, in this case, to resort to band members for a reprieve. He seemed on a mission, a mission to continue without pause the soundtrack for that night’s collectively felt emotions. Whether the World Trade Center was at the forefront of Ribot’s and/or the audience’s minds or not, it went without saying that the thought existed in each and every one of our minds. Ribot did an excellent music therapy job for listeners and, judging by his expression after the night’s music festivities concluded, for himself as well. As Ribot admitted after the night’s worth of music, “We’re all effected”.

Ribot covered all states of emotion during the course of the evening with his admirable use of tension along with the melodic fingering style he showed off both on his electric and acoustic guitars. The softer segments were given an additional element of beauty for listeners’ ears, if not relief from his occasional white noise tendencies. Revealing his garage and punk rock roots, Ribot revealed a similarity to what both Archie Shepp and Pharoah Sanders were renowned for during the ‘60s civil rights movement and days of the Vietnam War. He created a medley of intense and almost irritable sounds and followed them eventually with the more “breathier” side of his guitar playing in a tension and release vein.

From his Django influence from the Reinhardt-Grappelli days of the Hot Club of France to his own “Noise”-like themes (heard to great extent on several tunes found on his earlier solo recording effort, Don’t Blame Me)—Ribot evenly worked his way between innocent child-like playing, as if he were discovering the guitar for the very first time, to settling into the beautiful melodic playing of a true seasoned master. Opening with “Our Love Is Here To Stay”, Ribot thundered in like a spaceship landing. The correlation between last week’s surreal events and the introductory sounds was almost eerie, and the song title and theme within the well-known lyrics hit home, as well. His duct-taped guitar was a similar sight to Eugene Chadbourne’s experimental prepared guitars. Actually, his acoustic and electric guitars looked very much like they had been through a war of their own and assuredly each had interesting survival stories for Ribot to tell maybe at another time and place.

Surprisingly, leaning towards the mic for the opening lyrics of “Our Love Is Here To Stay”, Ribot in his best Bob Dorough slurring phrase impersonation, recited the “passing fancies” lyric. Once he got to the “Rockies may crumble, Gibraltar may tumble” line, the intent seemingly became obvious. His foot pedal effect gave a slo-mo feel while his unamplified fleet fingered solo gave off the impression that Ribot was, in effect, performing a duet. His use of textures and layering of parts over one another while soloing unamplified atop, was utilized to more than convincing effect.

Moving from electric to acoustic in a Flamenco opening of quick repeated chords, Ribot turned to the Paul Robeson special, “Ol’ Man River”. On his new recording, as a matter of fact, he performs another spiritual, “Go Down Moses”. Incessantly shaking the body of his guitar after each run, Ribot rattled out each and every possible remnant vibration. With pick in mouth, he finger-picked a beautiful melody reminding me, as Ribot often does in his quieter moments, of Lenny Breau’s acoustic playing (check out Breau’s Cabin Fever solo acoustic stream-of-consciousness recording towards the latter part of his shortened career). At various other times during the evening while Ribot concentrated on the acoustic, his hard to find solo acoustic guitar tribute recording (from the late ‘80s and early ‘90s) to his old teacher, Haitian guitar master Franz Casseus, came to mind.

Ribot then suddenly gave reason to the various colored balloons gathered at his feet since the beginning of the performance. He jolted his amp up a notch or two, moved from acoustic to electric while providing gun-shot like exclamations by bursting one balloon after another at the most “opportune” times. He added an occasional slide effect from his ring finger in conjunction with a unique use of amplified and non-amplified produced sounds. And in a somewhat split decision he directly moved, without pause, into another piece with a country music-like vibe of old. Ribot’s total unpredictability and diversity within this 15 second time span is case and point to why there is no other Ribot and why such leaders diverse as Tom Waits, Laurie Anderson, John Lurie and the Lounge Lizards, Elvis Costello, and John Zorn continuously ask for his unique contributions to their various projects.

Again, without pause, Ribot offered up one of the all time jazz staples, his previously recorded solo guitar rendition of “Body & Soul”. The suspense created by his use of space was literally awe-inspiring. His awkward fingerings, tunings, variation in volume, intensity, and occasional and strategic hit and miss of notes make Ribot truly an individual on his instrument. This latter element of Ribot’s playing brought to mind many musicians of today whose original intention is hitting a particular note, but unintentionally missing them either due to technical non-prowess or to not allowing so-called “missed” or “wrong” notes become part of their music. Ribot has obviously become a master of the so-called “wrong” note and the understanding of its omnipotent presence and function.

Moving to the electric once again, Ribot placed each set of fingers at their respective extremities of guitar from beyond the highest fret to off the fret board altogether, as his left hand plucked away at the strings near the tuning knobs (or machine heads, as they are technically known). Utilizing a blue Bic pen as a capo of sorts, though inserting it under the highest fret, he gave off a Hawaiian slack key effect. He moved the pen down a few frets and then added the slide on his ring finger. Fingering the strings on both sides of the pen, Ribot presented possibly an altogether foreign facet of the prepared guitar (though maybe not when you think of all the various elements folks like Chadbourne and Fred Frith have introduced to the world of prepared guitar). In either case, Ribot licked his fingers and rubbed the body of his guitar, producing a percussively effective squeaky sound.

Musicians inventive as Ribot and, say, a William Parker never cease to create something seemingly new each and every time they perform. There is guaranteed to be some new trick up their respective sleeves with cliché being the farthest thing from mind. Not many guitarists have the resources to perform as Ribot does, and unaccompanied at that, avoiding any set predictability or style, though David Tronzo and Bill Frisell certainly come to mind.

Giving off a feedback and wind chime effect of unamplified metal strings from his electric, Ribot manipulated the electric sounds via foot pedals before reaching over for his acoustic. The familiar theme of Albert Ayler’s “Ghosts” featured a drone like the Star Wars’ Star Destroyers of Darth Vader, slowly but massively approaching—or was that the subway making its rounds again? Conveniently enough, the number 6 train coincidentally contributed appropriately on many occasions throughout the night, especially when Ribot featured his electric guitar, as such was the case.

Ribot gave a twisted and bent rendition of a standard, which as Ribot played it, seemed to cross the melody of “I’m In The Mood For Love” and “I’m Getting Sentimental Over You” (the latter which is on his new record), rocking out ala the Sex Pistols and Kid A Radiohead. The encore brought forth the Beatles’ “Happiness is A Warm Gun” (another feature on his new Saints recording), which Ribot played in a very contemplative and almost tearful, or at least tear-jerking manner. It was a bluesy prayer that seemed to go out to everyone who lost something, which, in a sense, included all of us in the room.

Be sure to check out Marc Ribot’s new solo statement, Saints, as it is sure to make not only a lot of top pick lists for records of the year, but perhaps even for the decade. His new recording features twelve tracks, three of them being Albert Ayler compositions interestingly enough. The free jazz giant’s compositions are so rarely played and especially for instruments other than the tenor sax for obvious reasons. Georgio Gaslini successfully transcribed Ayler’s music for solo piano in the early ‘90s (Ayler’s Wings), and Ribot certainly has succeeded here in his Ayler translations for guitar (“Saints”, "Holy Holy Holy”, and “Witches and Devils”). Other tunes feature the compositions from his bosses John Zorn and John Lurie, as well as two traditionals (“Go Down Moses” and “St.James Infirmary”), two jazz standards (“I’m Getting Sentimental Over You” and “I’m Confessin’ That I Love You”), and one original by Ribot himself (“Empty”). Though you may hear hints of John Fahey, Derek Bailey, Charlie Byrd, Al Casey, and even Bill Frisell—Ribot gives a unique lesson in solo guitar that serves as a beautiful reflection of what makes Ribot truly a one of a kind.

Keep your ears open to the music!