Anthony Braxton Sextet+1 The Iridium New York City March 28-April 1, 2007
Democracy is alive and well, or at least it was on the stage of the Iridium under the beneficent gaze of maestro Anthony Braxton at the end of March 2007. While Braxton is responsible for choosing the primary compositions for his ensemble and starting and finishing proceedings, guided by his giant hourglass, he bestows equal authority upon his collaborators as to how they choose to navigate between the two points. He likens this model to the U.S. political system, where individual states operate autonomously under the umbrella of the federal government. If this sounds somewhat academic, the resultant music was anything but in its braying excitement and casual virtuosity.
Braxton had brought his septet, or rather Sextet+1, to the Iridium for four nights as an encore to his already legendary engagement at the same venue in 2006, documented on the massive 9 Compositions (Iridium) 2006 box set (Firehouse 12, 2007). The core bandTaylor Ho Bynum on assorted brass, Jay Rozen on tuba and euphonium, Mary Halvorson on guitar, Aaron Siegel on percussion, Carl Testa on bass and bass clarinet, and Jessica Pavone on viola, violin and bass guitarwas augmented by a changing cast of guests, drawn largely from Braxton's graduate students, each night. The added firepower increased both the complexity and the options available within the ensemble. Over the four nights, the youthful band essayed an enthralling ensemble music combining jazz, contemporary classical music, and all points in between, in a display which defied genre categories and sounded completely unlike anything else. This sextet is the nearest thing Braxton has to a working ensemble and, together with related line-ups using the same cast, to my mind represents yet another peak in his creativity, equal to the classic quartets of the seventies and late eighties/early nineties.
Each hour-long set was centred on a single piece from Braxton's self-styled "Ghost Trance Music"a compositional framework, which allows integration of any other of Braxton's compositions, along with great space for individual expression, within the narrative of the main piece. The ensemble would follow the score in unison for the first five minutes or so, before spinning off in a dizzying quilt of interlocking and overlapping episodes by subsets of the group, based on graphic or standard notated material or improvisations, none lasting longer than three or four minutes. Alliances would form and briefly follow their individual courses before disassembling and reforming in new unions, exploring all possible instrumental combinations, a gambit expanded to virtually limitless possibilities by the multi- instrumentalism of almost everyone in the band. Come to think of it, the Italian political system with its never-ending series of ephemeral coalitions might be a better simile than the U.S. governance system. Braxton himself stood amidst a veritable saxophone showroom, switching between alto, soprano, sopranino, baritone, bass and contrabass saxophones: the latter three on stands which he manhandled into position, occasionally coming perilously close to toppling off the stage amidst the thickets of brass tubing.
The music evolved like something from a sci-fi movie laboratory, where speeded-up, catalytic transformations took place, producing new species at a bewildering rate. Such organized chaos is only possible with musicians as skilled as these, sufficiently schooled in Braxton's methods to be able to meld staggering improvisational prowess with the ability to pilot through the complex charts. Watching the drama unfold, a spectator could only guess as to which of the musicians might take the lead in setting the direction for at least part of the ensemble, cueing in their colleagues by use of hand signals, whiteboards or simply waving scores. In other words, Braxton doesn't know what additional composition will be introduced, when, how or by whom. He frequently stood listening, nodding his head: a priestly master alchemist sagely overseeing his acolyte-lab assistants. Rarely was the whole ensemble playing at the same timethose not playing would be plotting another interjection and either wait until one of the current episodes drew to a close or choose the best moment to unleash their respective fancies. It was great fun to observe the communication and interaction, and this visual element helped the listener make sense of the shifting musical sands.
I love jazz because it is in my blood. It is the only original American art form. It is sacred. The greatest musicians are jazz artists.
I was first exposed to jazz in 1961 listening to my father's records of Duke Ellington, Billy Strayhorn, Count Basie, Nat King Cole, Ben Webster, Coleman Hawkins, Lester Young.
I met Sonny Stitt, Wayne Shorter, Branford Marsalis, Joey Calderazzo, Michael Brecker, Cannonball Adderley, Walter Booker, Dave Liebman, Joe Lovano, George Benson, Mike
Stern, Stanley Turrentine, Billy Harper, Skip Hadden, Charlie Haden.
The best show I ever attended was Joe Lovano with Soundprints at the Wexner Center in Columbus Ohio in 2014.
The first jazz record I bought was Miles Smiles.