And last week I was back at LPR for a great mixed bill: first, Sam Amidon made me remember that I do like some folk/americana-type music after all, then Daniel Bjarnason hit the stage with a 16-piece orchestra for a too-short set, and finally, the Danish band Efterklang played a set that kind of blew me away. Partly that’s because I had only heard a handful of their songs in relatively low fidelity versions online–a sure way to miss the richness and fullness of their sound. And partly it’s because they are a phenomenal live band–musicians periodically jump over to a mic to add unexpected vocal harmonies, drummers pick up trumpets mid-song to blow dramatic lead lines, gurgling electronic loops and squawks weave seamlessly in and out of lush acoustic arrangements, and everyone just generally dances and roams around the stage with tons of energy. There are some pics up at Brooklyn Vegan, and there are a couple of vids of the LPR show on youtube but I’d say this one, from Swedish TV, is pretty representative:

So why the frequent visits to Poisson Rouge? I’m glad you asked. It turns out that one can purchase a membership for a year or two at a time and, among various other perks, can attend certain shows–Branca and Efterklang, for example–for free. With a guest no less. Just another way the folks at this venue are thinking outside the box. And I dig it.

The Conservatory, housed in a striking Victorian mansion in Park Slope, offers a wide variety of classes and lessons–classical, jazz, and contemporary; theory, ear training, vocal, instrumental; etc.–for, as its site says, “students ranging in age from 18 months to adult.” And as if taking the lead in training today’s musically precocious toddlers weren’t enough, it also runs several outreach programs and hosts concerts; one tip: if you go in for the trad jazz thing and live in the NYC area, you should check out Kenny Barron on March 27.

Basically, after doing some research and stopping by to check the place out, I’m left wondering how I failed to notice such an amazing resource until now. So to make up for lost time, I’ve already enrolled in a Music Technology class, where I’m learning lots of sequencing and recording tips and tricks. I guess that what I lack in sleuthing skills I hope to make up for in audio engineering ability.

He also taught me for a while in 1998. I remember when my first piano teacher, Gary Ford, was taking lessons from Charlie back in the 80s. Gary, despite suffering from repetitive stress issues brought on by the 6 or more hours a day of practice it took him to work through Charlie’s exercises, could not say enough amazing things about Charlie’s teaching. Later, when I was studying in Paris in 1994, Gary recommended that I look up Katy Roberts, another former Banacos student, who also sang Charlie’s praises and continued my two-steps-of-separation Banacos-influenced training. Finally, that same year, I was rooming with Aaron Goldberg, who was also taking lessons with Charlie at that time. One day, Charlie called looking for Aaron and I decided to take the plunge, signing up for his waiting list myself.

Weeks went by, then months, then years. I moved several times and figured that Charlie either had had no way to contact me or, because of the informal way I “signed up” for the waiting list, had never put me in the queue. Silly me. In early ‘98, I got a call from Charlie asking when I could come in for my first lesson. He seemed to remember our conversation well, including our chatting about my other teachers, Paris, etc.–in fact, in all respects it was as if four days, not four years, had gone by since we had last spoken. Thinking back on it, I’m still not sure how he managed to get my then-current number.

So I ended up studying with Charlie in the spring and summer of ‘98, practicing to the point where the exercises tormented me even in my sleep, until I left for Philadelphia and law school. Charlie gave me some exercises for the road and told me to give him a call when I was back in Boston and ready for more lessons. But little did I know it was a fork-in-the-road kind of moment. I never went back to Boston. In fact, I barely played piano at all for several years and since I started playing again it’s been pretty much all rock (of one sort or another) all the time. I can comfortably say that law is much more my calling than jazz ever was, but I would have loved to study with Charlie again. I particularly regret not pursuing his “distance learning” program when I read about it a few years ago. This was no internet-based lesson plan–as I understand it, it involved Charlie creating and mailing tapes and written materials by snail mail. A pretty unique method for a one-of-a kind sort of guy.

It seems that a lot of people who knew Charlie a lot better than I have written about him elsewhere on the internets–Warren Senders at Daily Kos has a nice piece up with some links. But I particularly liked this one passage, taken from a post by Charlie’s family on the Charlie Banacos students Facebook page–it just seems so consistent with the bit that I came to know about him in my own experience and through my teachers and friends:

You should know that Charlie was of strong mind and in good spirits throughout his ordeal, and kept an unwavering positive attitude during the past few weeks. More than a few of the doctors and nurses commented on how much they enjoyed treating Charlie, for he was always quick with a joke and was determined to live each moment in a positive way.

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The most negative thing he said over the last few weeks was ‘What a drag!’ When the doctor told him his diagnosis he said “Good job with your diagnosis. Looks like I’m headed for the last round-up!” The doctor looked at him, after seeing Charlie in pain for a week already without it ever affecting his emotional strength, and said “Charlie, you’re a very strange man.”

So Sunday, after a day of apartment hunting and a tasty dinner at No.7 in Fort Greene, the lady and I headed to Roulette in Soho. Roulette is a pretty awesome, if surprisingly tiny (and, at least the other night, hot!), art and performance space that has been around for about thirty years putting on shows of, as they put it, “Experimental and Adventurous Music.” For the first set, the group played what I assume were largely songs from their new CD, This Brings Us To, Vol. 1. The second set was a longer-form piece commissioned specifically by Roulette, where Zooid, normally a drums-bass-guitar-tuba-reeds combo, was supplemented by a cellist.

The music is “free” in the sense that it’s hard to discern many static harmonic patterns in any give tune, and there’s a good amount of collective improvisation going on. But for the most part the feel is more hypnotic and angular than it is intense or chaotic. There’s a common rhythmic theme that runs throughout the tunes. Basically, the songs often have a strong groove, almost even a funk feel, to them, but the beats are disjointed and jerky–it’s as if one musician is playing a 4/4 groove, the next is playing the same beat but his 1 is on the other guy’s 2, another is playing a similar groove but in 5/4, etc. Everything matches up to create a loopy, head-bobbing feel, but trying to count out the rhythm is essentially a futile exercise. You could probably dance to it, but anyone watching might question your neurological well-being.

The show was recorded for Roulette TV, which already has probably a few dozen performances from Roulette’s archives available for viewing online. Check ‘em out.

Last October, Mosaic strayed from its usual, more traditional jazz-oriented approach, and released the phenomenal 8-CD Anthony Braxton box set. I listened to it several times over in the few days after my pre-order arrived, and many, many times since. It basically ushered in a full year (so far!) of me revisiting my more “out” musical tendencies (I did once have a radio show here that focused on avant-garde music, after all), much to the chagrin of my wonderfully patient ladyfriend. One of my recent re-discoveries has been Henry Threadgill, former member of the Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians, the group Air, and several of his own awesome combos.

And lo and behold, a recent email from Mosaic lands in my inbox announcing…wait for it…the Henry Threadgill Complete Novus and Columbia Recordings box set to be released in early 2010, featuring Air, X-75 (a nonet with 4 reeds, 4 basses, and a vocalist), and the “Sextett” (actually a septet with Threadgill, trumpet, trombone, cello, bass, and two drummers). Definitely pre-order material (when the time comes). Until then, though, there’s always youtube, which has this pretty awesome big band recording from 1988:

I was thinking about this most recently while watching an episode of Ace of Cakes (Food Network being by far the most frequently watched channel in our household). One second I’m cranking up the volume to try to understand why in the world anyone would order a cake based on the movie Independence Day for their wedding, and the next, with the remote having sunk irretrievably into the couch cushions, I’m shielding my ears from Guy Fieri promoting the next episode of his godawful show at about 140 decibels. By the time I get up and lower the volume, of course, the show is back on and Duff is whispering something about buying fireworks for some purpose I can’t quite make out over the dull hum of the dishwasher’s rinse cycle in the next room. Super, super irritating, right?!

Fortunately, Representative Ann Eshoo (D-CA) feels my pain and has introduced the Commercial Advertisement Loudness Mitigation Act. Yes, the CALM Act would forbid commercials from being broadcast more loudly than the program they accompany. And it appears that the House Communications Subcommittee has passed the bill and referred it to the full Energy and Commerce Committee. Take that, all you cynics complaining about Congressional inaction.

And Congress, if you’re reading–if you can pass only one landmark piece of legislation this term, PLEASE make it the CALM Act.

Was it parody? Misguided tribute? Alas, no, it apparently is the band Daemonia, fronted by Goblin’s keyboard player Claudio Simonetti. Daemonia is a metal band that covers old Goblin songs and, apparently, has a budget of not more than 100 euros per video shoot. Oh well. But the good news is that searching for that video led me to this one–some awesome footage of the classic Goblin: