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Ken Vandermark: Raw and Refined

By Published: March 13, 2006

The Rigors of Touring

AAJ: Looking at Hoxha's tour, starting in Canada, playing Seattle the next night and then playing Portland the night after that...That's a huge stretch of miles between shows.

KV: Oh that's easy! [laughs] Yeah.

AAJ: With the travel time and overnight accommodations, don't they eat up whatever you've got to make the thing go?

KV: Yeah, that's the reality of the touring.. And sometimes it would seem to me that in some cases, people want to overlook that or ignore it, or not really acknowledge the impact it has on the music and the musicians and the availability for the music to grow.

AAJ-e: Physically and emotionally speaking, how have you managed to keep your busy schedule for such a long period of time? Is there a danger of burnout? And if so, how do you combat fatigue and renew your level of creativity?

KV-e: In all honesty, the work sustains me, it's what I love to do. Even though it can be a real struggle, and is a painful experience when I fail creatively, my favorite place to be is on stage playing with great musicians. I learned very early that in order to get on stage more often it helped to put together bands, compose music, and organize concerts. Yes, I get tired, but I also get to collaborate and am challenged by very passionate people on a daily basis, we're given opportunities to present our work to people who want to hear it, and am supported and loved by my wife Ellen. I would say that if I can't continue under these circumstances I don't deserve to be doing this job.

AAJ-e: Are the day-to-day realities of maintaining a band shut out from your creative process, or do these realities serve as inspiration?

KV-e: I believe that to be an artist in the United States it's impossible to ignore the economic reality here—there is hardly any government support for the arts. The challenge, for me, is how to create the work I need to make and then figure out how to get it heard in concert and on record; building a system that is self-sustaining without sacrificing any creative decisions. class="f-right s-img"> Return to Index...

Music with Hyphenated Feelings

AAJ: To return to the idea of dissonance and chaos for a moment, there's an optimistic feeling that comes from the music of the '30s, with the melodies and chord sequences that, for example, Lester Young and Ben Webster worked with. But that really changed with Ornette and Cecil, and now we have a music with hyphenated feelings, optimistic-anxious for example. Is that right, does that makes sense?

KV: I think I understand what you're saying. I don't know if, and I don't honestly disagree with the idea that the sort of levels of complexity on the surface of the music of someone like Cecil Taylor is quite a bit different than the music of, let's say, Lester Young. I would say that the content of the music of Lester Young is no less complex than what Cecil Taylor's music is about, and I'd be surprised if you talked to Cecil if he would disagree. It would be interesting to find out his perspective on it as an example. But I think that all art is complicated and all art, great art, art that stands the test of time and has meaning to people generations after it's made, is complex. Otherwise it's just a superficial statement, a superficial communication about experience that has nothing to say to people from another country, another time period.

I think that certain kinds of complexity that developed in the course of the twentieth century in the music of the United States and into Europe connected to jazz and improvisation in some ways, and it's certainly been said before that it's almost a compressed version of the developments of Western composed music that happened over several hundred years. But I think the components that are surface—and by surface I don't mean superficial, I mean the construction, the components, the language types, the grammar—are, to use an analogy, quite a bit different and in some cases quite a bit more dense than music that was earlier in the century. But for every example of those kinds of differences you can find exceptions and I think that it's very easy to find examples of someone like Peter Brötzmann being incredibly lyrical and introspective, and beautiful in his playing in a conventional way, almost out of a Coleman Hawkins, Sidney Bechet style. The same thing is true of Cecil Taylor, same thing's true of Albert Ayler, people that are associated more with let's say aggressive expressions in a music that has dissonance, that has many rhythmic layers to it that in terms of its surface, is seemingly more complex than, say, someone like Lester Young to use the same example. I think the more you come to appreciate and be able to hear the music of Lester Young, the deeper and deeper it goes and the more reference points and complexity become clear.

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