By Michael Friedman

MF: Explain the title 'modern cool.'

PB: Modern is a wonderful word in that it has two connotations. It recalls the 20th century as artistic/cultural era. Modernism, modern, those heady days at the beginning of the 20th century when idealism was palpably in the air. And then you have the constantly 'now' meaning of the word modern - the wonderful excitement of the new. But the twist here is that the term 'modern' now has a bittersweet quality to it because of the nostalgia we are all feeling as we watch this century come to a close. So for me, 'modern' means old-fashioned and new-fashioned. And the bittersweet relationship between the two. Cool - well, is just cool.

MF: There is a strong reference to the modern era on the record. Can you explain your preoccupation with that?

PB: Years ago, I told some friends that I would only leave the 20th century kicking and screaming, I have loved it so and felt so at home there. Now, of course, I find that life itself is precious and I am glad for the opportunity to experience all that I can, including the unknown that this new century has to bring us. 'Modernity,' the movements that swept a century with what were then new political, artistic, and economic concepts, has left us here...and where is that? Trying to discover how the brilliance and brutality of 'modernism' left us in this particularly eclectic, fragmented, and possibly dangerous 'Postmodern' era colored much of the work on this CD. Imagine the sense of inspiration and hope those working at the beginning of the 20th century must have felt when the ideas of 'capitalism, socialism, and communism, were still relatively untested, shiny and new, when nobody could have imagined that the dominant ideology would be an empty materialism. Millions and millions died in this century fighting for their ideals. It just can't be that they fought for this. We are capable of better and part of that process, of finding a better place, is to live for a while in ruins, which is where we are now. And then we have to express dissatisfaction with it, careful not to drown in cynicism. Keep what we cherish. Throw out the rest. And rebuild. I'm cautiously optimistic.

MF: Was there a specific audience in mind when you recorded 'modern cool?'

PB: Well, the audience I'm hoping to reach with "modern cool" would be very much like myself. I composed the music for 'modern cool' to appeal to my own ear. My ear has been asking for an independent voice in music and in jazz, a rugged individualist, an independent artistic entrepreneur, somebody who respects and has absorbed the art form of jazz, but who then develops a personal statement from that foundation. The personal statement would then include in the mix any and all influences the artist has ingested over a lifetime. It should be a very personal, unique recipe with jazz as the most basic ingredient.

MF: What do you hope people will get from 'modern cool?'

PB: jazz, contemporary classical music, a friend, poetry, loneliness, sincerity, cynicism, prophecy, hope, well-crafted form, inspiration, love, sex, and entertainment …

MF: What inspired you about E. E. Cummings?

PB: I'm not always inspired by E. E. Cummings. Sometimes he's just fucking with us and I resent that. However, the poem I adapted on this recording is one of the best he has to offer. It is inspiring arrogance in the face of death's inevitability. Hope and despair wrapped in perfect artistic form. The triumph of life over death. This is an example of why we need art. I certainly needed this poem.

MF: Why is there a gospel choir on this record?

PB: The gospel choir is for my sister Ann. She gave up on her battle with cancer just as I was about to record this CD. In fact I pushed the recording date back a few months thinking that her family would need to be with her in October and November for some of the hardest parts of the therapy. She didn't wait for us. Ann asked for a gospel choir for her memorial service, which was not done at the time and so, they are singing for her. Choral Thunder knew for whom they were singing and why I wrote this piece, and I will forever be grateful for the love and strength they gave me. And they know, and I know, that my sister is listening.

MF: "Winter" is clearly a pop/rock song of this era, as was "Too Rich For My Blood" from café blue. Do you see what you're are doing as pop/rock? Do you see what you are doing as more pop than say Diana Krall or Harry Connick, who are both selling well in the popular realm with records of pop music from another era or pop music that is original but sounds like it is from another era?

PB: "Too Rich for My Blood" is a blues. I based it on a Duke Ellington blues and I took the groove from a Kenny Werner performance I heard while performing at the North Sea Jazz Festival. Then I wrote lyrics for it. There might be an emotionality to it that is accessible because of the lyrics, and certainly the drum part at the end is unusual in jazz arrangements. And it did get airplay on a pop station in Canada. There is also an improvised acoustic bass solo that is prominent in the cut, a bold choice that would never be made if I were intentionally trying to fit into a pop/rock category. "Winter" is a sophisticated rhythmic puzzle (7/8 against a 4/4 quarter note thing) that goes down more easily because of a lyric that paints a picture. Fitting the lyric into this rhythm and then making it sound natural was a bit of a feat. The middle guitar solo is improvised and the ending improvisation between the voice, guitar, and trumpet might be said to sound like contemporary classical music. So, there are contradictions here. Good. The task I designed for myself with this music was to give it complexity so that it is satisfying musically, and give it human drama so that it satisfies emotionally. All I can say is that this music is being performed by accomplished jazz musicians and I can think of no other 'category' of musicians who could play it. It takes rhythmic, harmonic, and emotional sophistication, as well as improvisational expertise. This was my intention as a composer, to create a music that was very individual, and to satisfy my own frustration at what was lacking in the current music scene, which is so rigidly compartmentalized. And never, ever to underestimate the listener. Again, whether or not this music speaks to today, is not for me to judge. I hope so.

MF: I think you are an extremely gifted lyricist. How did this happen? Do you work on writing lyrics in the same way as you do to improve your piano playing? or your arranging?

PB: No, it's not quite the same technique. It's more mysterious. There is, of course, some crafting involved, and editing, but the actual creativity of the process, of lyric writing is more gut-wrenching than practicing piano or arranging. It is the same process as composing and that I can't explain either.

MF: You once told me that in live performance you can feel when you are losing an audience and you know how to get them back. I think this is a quality that is missing in many of today's jazz performers. How do you feel about that? What is it about you or your career development that has brought you to this place?

PB: There's such a fine line between pleasing yourself as an artist and pleasing the audience. It's a difficult line to walk and I can't fault any musician that chooses not to worry about whether or not the audience is understanding his/her work. The first choice must always be to please yourself as an artist, always. Otherwise the work will be drivel. The musician's job is to first create the best music he/she can, then perhaps worry about communicating it. Let me reiterate that if this order is switched, the music is worthless.

My situation is that I worked for many, many years in the clubs and it was simply a knack I learned by paying my dues, the knack of communication. At first, it was survival, and ultimately it became unsatisfying for me to leave an audience behind so I worked hard at walking that line. Sometimes in my mind I imagine myself physically handing somebody in the audience a key. Once they have the key, I feel that they will follow me anywhere. And more often than not that gesture in my mind works somehow to bring them closer to me.

MF: You've been on a major label and had other offers to be with major labels. Are you happier on an independent? Why?

PB: I'm happier to be independent. It's sad to watch artists' surrender their artistic soul. A big house, or two or three, will never replace the part of themselves that they gave away. The 'producers' can be seductive in their smarmy way. They fly you around, they pick you up in limos, they wine and dine you, they promise that if you just surrender your artistic autonomy for a while somehow you'll become empowered later and be able to get it back. So you're asked to gamble with your most precious possession, the reason you get up in the morning. You're trusting these frustrated musicians in the guise of producers who want to use you as a musical instrument to fulfill their tarnished dreams and also to boost the sales of the company. One out of a million of these contracts-with-the-devil works out to the benefit of the artist and we all suffer from the lack of creativity being recorded. Certainly independent labels offer us a desperately needed outlet for interesting and creative work, as do independent films, or independent companies of any kind. these artists and companies should be nurtured and supported. They might be our only hope in this corporate vortex of a culture. To be, as Milan Kundera put it, "truly and ruthlessly independent" is the only form of revolution left to us.

MF: Who are your favorite writers? filmakers? visual artists? photographers?

PB: Cezanne, Samuel Beckett, Nabokov, Tarkovsky, John Donne, Picasso, David Mamet, Egon Schiele, Henry Moore, Henri Bresson, some Lawrence Durrell, some Maya Angelou, recent prose by Sam Shepard, some Susan Sontag, Camille Paglia is a blast... interestingly...these artists came to my mind the most quickly...and with the exception of John Donne, they are all 20th century artists-including Egon Schiele, who straddled the two centuries. ..I'm clearly a freak for the 20th century. Music, perhaps obviously, inspires me the most. Among composers, my taste spans from the Medieval period until the present day.

MF: It has been 3 1/2 years since cafe blue. What have you been doing? How has that led you to this point?

PB: I attended graduate school at Northwestern University and attained a Masters Degree in something called Jazz Pedagogy. The faculty at the Music School were wonderful in that they allowed me to custom design my program. I focused on 20th century classical music and culture and taught a lot of jazz. This CD is the offspring of that course of study in many respects.

MF: Comment on your feelings about 'cafe blue,' its success and how you feel about coming out with a new record following it.

PB: If I had been asked to follow 'cafe blue' without a lot of preparation time, I would have been intimidated by my own work and the success of 'café blue.' However, I had time between these two projects. Time to go to graduate school, to study, to work, to travel and perform, to think. So "modern cool" came very organically. The music had been written over three years and the usual journeys of emotion that three years would encompass so in that way, I was ready for "modern cool." I was feeling as if I had something to say, and was confident in the way that I wanted to express it.

MF: Comment on 'modern cool,' how it reflects where you are musically today and how it is an evolution of your previous work.

PB: There is an audible line of progression between "cafe blue" and "modern cool." They are clearly from the same artist and what "cafe blue" started "modern cool" has developed. I would say, though, that my artistic voice is perhaps more fully evident with "modern cool" because so much of the recording consists of my own compositions.

MF: What happened to your vision of having a place named cafe blue?

PB: I'd still love to own a special jazz club, I just can't afford it. People need music now. They need music that speaks to their souls, not just their heads. Being 'impressed' by music is not the same as being 'moved' by it. They need music that grabs them where they didn't know they needed to be grabbed. I stare into their eyes at night and too many of them are empty. It's frightening. They need art desperately. Jazz could give them what they need.

MF: What is the story with you and Sara Peretsky?

PB: I'm a big fan of Sara Paretsky. I've read all of her V.I. Warshawski books- they gave me great comfort on the road and in airplanes. I have become such a fan, in fact, that I've started fancying myself a sort of private investigator. I've even taken two investigation gigs that were given to me by my friends. I wrapped a sandwich up in tin-foil and made myself a thermos of coffee specifically for a stake-out one afternoon. Well, I had the style right, but I failed miserably at both investigation jobs. That has not diminished my enthusiasm for the profession, however one bit, and you'll notice the P.I. attached to my e-mail address. I continue with this tiny fantasy. So, one day I decided to write Sara Paretsky a letter and tell her how much her books have meant to me. I sent her my CD, "cafe blue," and described how I've become a sort of lousy investigator myself. Jazz musician by night, investigator by day. She wrote me back explaining that she had been a fan of mine for a while (she had been sneaking in to see me at the Gold Star Sardine Bar without ever introducing herself) and taking my alter-ego teasingly seriously. Since that time, she has given me the thrill of a lifetime by putting me in her new book, "Ghost Country." I'm sure she did that just to thrill me, and she's so sweet to remember me that way. I feel now that I've arrived, and the rest of my life is just tying up loose ends.

MF: Where do you see yourself in the lineage of jazz? Describe your place in the ongoing history of jazz?

PB: Where I see myself in jazz history and where others might place me could be two different things. I can tell you that I would like to see myself as an integral bridge that helps take jazz from the 20th century to the 21st century. Whether or not I will accomplish that, and then be recognized as such, are questions I can't answer.