In this year’s listening, the balance swung back from classical toward the popular a little again. In the non-classical arena, the focus for me is still on acoustic music, real instruments and warm, open production. The year has also been full of delighted rediscoveries and re-connections with ‘old friends.’ For instance—even though she doesn’t have a 2011 release—it’s clear to me now that I haven’t spent nearly enough time over the years listening to Laurie Anderson, who remains a singular creative talent and political voice in American music.

As before, I will limit my lists to records released in 2011. I won’t add re-releases that came out in 2011, though there were many (like U2′s Achtung Baby, or the Smiths box set).

Best new music – Popular, jazz, world, etc.

Alison Krauss & Union Station – Paper Airplane: Finally, another Alison Krauss & Union Station album! Even though I liked her excursion with Robert Plant, it didn’t really ‘stick.’ Krauss’ clear soprano is still best framed by the inimitable “newgrass” sound of her original band of ace instrumentalists and harmony singers. Another impeccable collection of modern country songs wrapped in traditional dress, this is well worth owning and listening to repeatedly. There is something very wonderful and grounding about this band’s output—a world where such musicianship can exist cannot be all bad, despite what the news may suggest.

Amos Lee – Mission Bell: Amos Lee is a talented songwriter and, as a vocalist, sounds somewhat like the young Cat Stevens. This is his fourth solo album and constitutes a sort of emergence from under the yoke of having been typecast as a sort of Norah Jones alike in his early recording career. On Mission Bell, he teams up with the producer-musicians from the wonderful Calexico (a perennial favourite of mine in their own right, and competent instigators of making others sound cool on a number of different records, for example on the I’m Not There soundtrack). Mission Bell is well worth hearing and becomes more rewarding as you listen repeatedly.

Helge Lien Trio – Natsukashii: I haven’t written nearly enough about Norwegian jazz here. Every jazz musician in the country seems to have a unique, Nordic take on the genre. And while the roots of this trio are clearly somewhere between ECM’s spacious acoustic and the minimalist groove of E.S.T., the focus here shifts from having bebop as its base to something simpler, less technical, more emotionally resonant. Perhaps it’s a conscious further development of the moment when Keith Jarrett is said to have brought ‘folk’ elements into his solo improvisations, perhaps it’s the influence of Scandinavian mythology (or heavy metal?), but this trio sounds like the architect rock stars of what jazz will turn into eventually—and increasingly, this is the kind of talent jazz needs in order to continue to be a vital genre in the 21st century.

Iron and Wine – Kiss Each Other Clean: I deliberately listen to very little ‘indie’ music these days, having somehow grown tired of it in the last few years. Rock rarely grabs my ears the way it once used to. But this caught my ear by surprise and hasn’t really let go. Bright, intelligently arranged songs full of strong melodies. There’s a kind of 80s sensibility to this record which seems different to anything else I’d heard by Iron and Wine—it’s more ‘pop’ than the more folk/country-oriented, subdued work we previously heard from Sam Beam.

Sierra Hull – Daybreak: Sierra Hull is a very young and very talented bluegrass singer and mandolin player. As an Alison Krauss protegé, she benefits from the same widescreen production values and outstanding musicians her mentor employs on her own albums. But there’s something so singularly well done about this that it doesn’t really fit into the “sounds like” category. She plays and sings with the confidence of someone much more experienced, and her songwriting is also excellent. And there are two mandolin-focused instrumentals here that’ll make your speakers smoke.

Nitin Sawhney – Last Days of Meaning: Nitin Sawhney is a UK producer/composer/DJ who originally came to fame as part of a late 90s wave of “Asian underground” DJs who were pioneering a multi-culti dance sound (then) unique to the UK. Since that time, his songwriting ambition has steadily grown through a series of subtle and exceedingly well-produced records featuring guest vocalists from various cultural backgrounds (East, West, and everything in between). Lately, his albums have included more cultural/political commentary—usually told through fictional characters and their stories. In this latest effort, veteran actor John Hurt plays a hermitic old man with conservative, xenophobic views who’s been sent a tape containing songs that—at the surface—sound like everything he hates about the world. Listening to them, he gradually softens and gains new insights. Sawhney’s songs are outstanding miniatures, intelligently written and true to their specific genres. Highly, highly recommended (as is virtually everything else Sawhney’s ever released, including his soundtrack for the BBC’s Human Planet).

Coeur de Pirate – Blonde: My original review is here.

Tinariwen – Tassili: Another fantastic record from Mali’s most amazing musical export (currently living, that is). This is the blues in its original form, all two chords of it, and you can clearly hear where John Lee Hooker’s inspiration came from. Tinariwen are an excellent band with strong rhythm, a rock ‘n roll attitude and an uncompromising musical vision. The fact that Tinariwen are joined here once or twice by some people from TV on the Radio is only a minor distraction (and actually quite good). What’s consistently awesome is how sophisticated and engaging this trance-inducing music with the sing-song melodies and limited harmonic development is. It’s the sort of world music that gives back a mile when you give an inch.

Tedeschi Trucks Band – Revelator: I think Derek Trucks is currently the world’s best blues guitarist. He’s an unfailingly tasteful and minimalist player who seems to have no technical limitations and effortlessly puts simple licks into strategic spots in songs where they genuinely matter musically. Formerly a touring guitarist of the Allman Brothers Band and fronting his own outfit, the Derek Trucks Band, Trucks has now joined forces with his wife Susan Tedeschi (a superb blues singer/songwriter) and a cast of 11 or so others, including two (!) drummers. The results are astounding and exhilarating, half blues, half soul, all played true to the idiom with perfect phrasing on guitar and vocals. Two giants, really, at the top of their respective game. You should totally buy this.

Steve Earle – I’ll Never Get Out of This World Alive: Another accomplished album by Steve Earle. Continuing the “new Steve Earle” trajectory he started in the mid 90s, this record reaffirms the departure from ‘country’ and mines an immense number of related genres: alt-country, folk, roots rock, Irish reels, even Tom Waits (who, let’s face it, is a genre unto himself). I’ll Never Get Out of This World Alive is merely a solid Steve Earle record (certainly not the greatest he’s made), but as such is one of the better albums of the year virtually by definition. Deeply credible, critical of the political status quo, committed to social justice without being preachy, able to wield a simple lyric like a sharp weapon, and capable of connecting to a broad spectrum of listeners: Earle has become the social conscience of roots music lovers everywhere.

Patricia O’Callaghan – Matador: The Songs of Leonard Cohen: O’Callaghan is a Toronto-based, classically trained vocalist whose considerable skills are typically brought to bear on interpreting other people’s songs. On this record, she focuses entirely on Leonard Cohen songs—music, I’ve often thought, that benefits from being performed by people who are not Leonard Cohen. O’Callaghan’s performances (one or two of which have been previously released) are so assured, so incredibly well worked out, her phrasing so spot-on, the arrangements so good, they stake a reasonable claim for being better than the originals. Her version of ‘Who By Fire’ is astonishing, her ‘Hallelujah’ impeccable and her ‘Everybody Knows’ is clean and—without Cohen’s grit—takes on a different inflection entirely that’s just as good as the original. Highly recommended. I’ve also enjoyed Patricia O’Callaghan’s album with the Gryphon Trio from earlier this year, Broken Hearts & Madmen. It’s perhaps not completely worthy of a “best of 2011″ mention (or maybe I just think there are too many songs sung in Spanish on it), but it’s also outstanding and more than deserves to be heard. I love its version of Laurie Anderson’s ‘Pieces and Parts.’

Best new classical music

Eric Whitacre – Light & Gold: Eric Whitacre is a young American composer of mostly choral music. He has, in recent years, built himself quite a reputation on Youtube (virtual choirs and the like), and his last two records genuinely ‘crossed over’ into the outer layers of the mainstream. My inclusion of this album as a “best of 2011″ pick feels slightly tentative because I can’t entirely shake the sense that there’s something ever-so-slightly cheesy populist about some of Mr. Whitacre’s pieces… or maybe, I find myself reacting to the unbridled enthusiasm with which he’s embraced by all sorts of listeners who otherwise don’t know classical music from a bar of soap. His crossover ‘pop’ status puts him in close proximity (at least physically, in music stores) to the Susan Boyles and Andrea Bocellis of this world. Yet his music is often astonishingly beautiful, interesting and deserves a serious audience.

Kristian Bezuidenhout, Freiburger Barockorchester, Gottfried von der Goltz – Mendelssohn Piano Concertos: Mendelssohn’s early piano concertos are delightful confections of “Early Romanticism,” all pretty melodies and a string orchestra. Pre-Sturm und Drang, this reflects much of Mozart, Beethoven and Hummel’s technical advancements without yet carrying the weight of Romanticism. Bezuidenhout, who’s from South Africa, plays the fortepiano, a predecessor of the piano we know today, whose character is brighter, nimbler—but also more brittle and less ‘full’ than your Steinways and Bösendorfers. It works beautifully here (whereas I struggle with some of the piano solo material when it’s played on a fortepiano). The Freiburg Baroque orchestra does a lovely job. This is an immensely listenable release that continues to delight time and again.

The Choir of Trinity College, Cambridge, Stephen Layton – Beyond all mortal dreams: American a cappella: This is a panoramic traversal of some very fine American choral music, exceptionally sung by one of Britain’s foremost choirs. All of this material is form the 20th century, but is about as far from serial music or other modernist art musics as one can imagine. Though harmonically advanced and interesting, this isn’t dissonant music. While it can sometimes be quiet, the recording’s dynamics demand your attention (this isn’t ‘casual listening music’). I hear connections between this and Arvo Pärt—much of it comes from within a distinctly religious tradition. If you’re looking for introspection and a wonderful showcase of the fine harmony human voices can produce, look no further than this.

Stephen Hough – Chopin Complete Waltzes: Stephen Hough, it strikes me, is one of the few pianists who seem to have absolutely no technical limitations. Like Marc-André Hamelin (the other pianist in the small group that immediately springs to mind), Hough appears able to focus all his energy on interpretation—on providing us with musical insights into the work. I say “appears” because I know that much of the dynamics of performance spring from “doing battle with” one’s own technical limitations, and I’m also aware that suggesting someone doesn’t have technical limitations implies that their performances would be particularly light (or that they don’t need to practice). Neither applies here or is in any way an issue (and Chopin’s waltzes certainly deserve a certain lightness of touch). This is a beautiful record—just like everything else I’ve ever heard Hough play. I would say these are definitive performances.

Heinz Holliger, Camerata Bern, Erich Höbarth – Bach Oboe Concertos: A lovely collection of well-played, well-recorded Bach concertos and sinfonias rendered for oboe and Baroque orchestra. Heinz Holliger’s research really shines here, rendering what are more often performed as works for the violin on the oboe (a legitimate transcription, and sometimes performed like that in Bach’s time), and surrounding them with sinfonias/chorale transcriptions to give them a longer arch, better shape and create a program that flows better. If you’re looking for one instrumental Baroque disc this year, this should probably be it. (Although I feel like I could have a whole separate post on “best Baroque recordings of the year.”)

Jean-Guihen Queyras, Akademie für Alte Musik Berlin – Vivaldi Cello Concertos: Queyras is a young French cellist whose tone is more like that of a dark viola d’amore than a cello, and he has the same lightness that someone playing a handheld instrument could achieve. I was first drawn in by his remarkable Bach Cello suites a few years ago which showcased his dexterity, lightness of touch and depth of thinking about Baroque music. Performing Vivaldi may not require the same erudition as Bach’s solo works, but these works are rendered flawlessly (even if the recording has the tiniest bit too much treble). There are also some sinfonias here by Caldara, providing a bit of balance and welcome diversion between the three-movement sets of the concertos. The Akademie plays true to its usual fiery self.

Joyce DiDonato, Karina Gauvin et. al, Il Complesso Barocco, Alan Curtis – Handel Ariodante: This is hands down the best new opera recording of the year for me. Alan Curtis has been rendering Handel operas with his hand-picked European orchestra and an ever-more-amazing roster of singers for many years. This recording now also includes the incredible new Baroque mezzo-soprano Joyce DiDonato who sings this music so flawlessly that one might imagine it was written for her. What makes this even more special, though, is that every singer here is equally accomplished—so the whole enterprise never sags, drags or lags. Even if you think you don’t like opera, this may be good enough to get you into it. Handel wrote the pop songs of his era, staged with as much fanfare as a Lady Gaga appearance, and this album renders them terrifically.

Leif Ove Andsnes, Christian Tetzlaff, Tanja Tetzlaff – Schumann Complete Works for Piano Trio: The Tetzlaffs and Andsnes have established a kind of new European chamber supergroup through a few years of collaborating at Lars Vogt’s Spannungen chamber festival in Heimbach, Germany. Christian Tetzlaff, of course, is one of the current violin greats playing on modern instruments, equally at home in this repertoire as in Bach’s Sonatas and Partitas. The close ensemble work here is an expression of the three musicians’ finely honed listening skills, high musicianship and excellent preparation. I don’t feel equipped to say that these are definitive recordings (I love the Florestan Trio, too), but it’s an amazing complete compendium of Schumann trio music and consistently of an excellent standard. If you don’t know Schumann’s chamber music, you ought to hear this.

Alina Ibragimova, Cédric Tiberghien – Beethoven Violin Sonatas Vol. 3: The final volume in Alina Ibragimova’s Beethoven sonata cycle, this deserves being included in this year’s best of list: the whole cycle, which appeared on three discs over the course of the last few years, is the result of a series of very well received live recordings at Wigmore Hall. I had my heart set on not liking this as much as the Isabelle Faust/Alexander Melnikov Beethoven sonata cycle from a couple of years ago (which I thought was unbeatable), but Ibragimova and Tiberghien convinced me piece by piece. It is especially remarkable that these are live recordings; the consistent perfection delivered by these two young musicians is simply amazing. Ibragimova is rapidly becoming the new violinist to watch.

Honorary Mention

Adam Gopnik – Winter: Five Windows on the Season (CBC Massey Lectures 2011): Honorary mention goes to Adam Gopnik’s 2011 Massey Lectures which are a delight in terms of both content and delivery. In five one-hour lectures, Gopnik takes us on a whirlwind tour to explore how one might think about the ‘meaning of winter’ from various cultural and historical perspectives. He covers everything from Scrooge to fighting in hockey, arctic explorers to skating as courtship, and the intellectual enjoyment of it never lets up (if anything, he can be a bit of a fast-talker and I occasionally found myself struggling to keep up and had to go back). The book, which appeared before the audio lectures were broadcast on the CBC, is much longer and more detailed. If you want to learn something this season, try these.

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A review of Myriam Alter’s ‘Where Is There’ (2007)

Myriam Alter is one of those musicians about whom the Internet seems to know very little. What Google manages to dig up more or less tells the same story: Alter hails from a Belgian family of Sephardic Jews. She started piano lessons at age 8 but abandoned the instrument at 15 for other preoccupations. After studying psychology at university, she worked for an advertising agency and later ran a dance studio. When she was 36, she rediscovered the piano and slowly but determinedly built a career for herself as a jazz performer and composer. She has made a number of well-reviewed records — with carefully hand-picked band members and frequently someone else at the piano — that are little-known but quite beautiful.

Alter’s music — like that of Enrico Rava, for example, or Stefano Bollani — reflects a typically European jazz sensibility pointing back all the way to Django Reinhardt. Unlike American jazz, it incorporates a myriad of influences that aren’t based in the blues, such as Italian folk songs, the oddly dichotomous happy/melancholic melody lines of the Klezmer tradition of Eastern Europe and a sense of (melo)drama that may stem from French chanson or cabaret.

Adding to this eclectic mix is the cello of Jaques Morelenbaum, an increasingly well-known Brazilian instrumentalist who regularly appears with his own ensembles and the big luminaries of Brazilian popular music, like Gilberto Gil and Caetano Veloso. Apparently an integral part of the Brazilian musical establishment by birth (he’s married to a well-known singer, his sister plays clarinet for the Brazilian Symphony Orchestra, etc.), Morelenbaum has unique musical abilities as a classically trained cellist who’s worked in popular world music and jazz all his career. More rhythmically oriented and less stiff than Yo-Yo Ma (whose efforts in playing Brazilian music always left me cold — similarly to a lot of the rest of his recorded work), Morelenbaum has an innate empathy for Myriam Alter’s melancholy flirtations with the strong Sephardic/Moroccan percussions she offers in ‘Was It There’ and other tracks. These rhythms may, in the end, not be that different from what centuries of the slave trade brought from Africa to Bahia (musicologists, I imagine, may have definitive ideas about the migratory patterns of rhythms and instruments through the various diasporas, intersecting in North Africa, the Middle East, the Mediterranean and the Iberian Peninsula).

For music that is essentially through-composed (possibly with room for improvisation/cadenzas for some of the solo instruments such as the clarinet and solo saxophone, both excellently played here), Alter’s pieces have a spontaneous character and remind us of many different musical traditions at the same time. In general, they have a “old world” sensibility and — unlike other experimental world music and much jazz — do not require an ‘open mind.’ One reviewer perceptively notes that “[i]t’s the kind of music that for once will not chase the family members out of the room, it may even attract them.”

Myriam Alter’s ‘trick,’ of course, is her ability to pack musical interest, complexity and challenge into deceptively light-sounding fare — something she does with unfailing certainty on Where Is There. At the surface, this music is only fleetingly ‘sad’ or ‘melancholy.’ In fact, it’s packed with the same kind of minor-key joyful abandon that we know and love from Django Reinhardt’s gypsy jazz from the 1930s which also disregarded all the rules of the blues and in so-doing established an authentically European and unique voice in popular music.

The recorded sound is of the highest order and reminds me of recent ECM records of a similarly acoustic nature. Highly recommended.

I was doing some reading about the inimitable Jon Hassell the other day (an appreciation of his mysterious and powerful music should be another post here one of these days) and came across mention of Mati Klarwein, an artist whose work has been used on a number of epoch-defining rock and jazz records of the 70s and beyond.

Klarwein is one of those artists you’re already familiar with if you have an interest in music — you may just not be aware that you are. One of his best-known covers was for what’s commonly thought of as Santana’s best album, Abraxas (1970). The picture is called ‘Annunciation,’ and by his own description, it was his first after his “New York awakening” in 1961. (He described the one just prior — ‘Flight to Egypt (Benares),’ shown above — as “romantic nostalgia.”)

Another important cover art painting was for Miles Davis’ Bitches Brew. This psychedelic, ‘fantastic realist’ masterpiece is particularly striking because of how modern it looks — almost like it’s been digitally rendered. Many of Klarwein’s paintings have this quality. It comes out in the sheen of the skin of his subjects, in the carefully rendered, almost Baroque nudes that grace many of his fantasies. (The common story is that the Austrian painter Ernst Fuchs, whose student Klarwein was, taught him “how to paint like the old masters.”)

After the successes with Bitches Brew and Abraxas, Klarwein worked on a cover paining for a new Jimi Hendrix record with Gil Evans. Unfortunately, this project was never completed, but the painting exists and is striking in the same style as the ones above (the equestrian marauders are both bizarre and amusing — and what exactly is it that’s attacking Jimi’s face like that? Has his afro gone rogue?):

The cover art for Miles Davis’ Live-Evil double album (‘Live’ was the front and ‘Evil’ the back cover) followed in 1972, striking in its contrast of Afrocentric fertility imagery with “J. Edgar Hoover as a toad in drag” (Klarwein’s description of Evil). The toad in drag, strangely, also looks a lot like a newly invented Hindu god, with its carefully coiffed hair and muscular limbs.

I think Mati Klarwein’s art was a key influence for certain directions in contemporary design. His schooling with some of the leading surrealists of the 50s coupled with his interest in graphic design, popular culture and Eastern spirituality resulted in work whose influence can be seen in today’s manga and 3D-rendered gaming images.

I imagine opinions vary widely across the spectrum of gender politics when it comes to Klarwein’s depiction of women’s bodies. I choose to think that his subjects are powerful, empowered women, comfortable with their bodies and frequently depicted in regal or dominant positions (angels, queens, matriarchs, warriors etc.).

Men, in fact, tend not to do very well in Klarwein’s paintings — in images where both men and women are shown, the women are always the focal point, and the men fade into the margins or are shown as clowns (the portraits — many presumably being commissions — show this quite clearly). Klarwein clearly admired women’s bodies and sought to depict them in the most flattering way.

Mati Klarwein died in 2002 of cancer. There are sadly very few books available collecting his work (those published in the 70s are out of print but available provided one can afford them). Fortunately, many of his works are collected online at The Life and Art of Mati Klarwein. As for prints — those seem to be even rarer than books. eBay may be your best bet.

Thanks to the extremely reasonable legitimate image usage policy of the Mati Klarwein site, I am able to reproduce some of his art in this post. All images are links back to the site as requested, and of course are © Copyright Klarwein Family.

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A review of Food’s Quiet Inlet (2010).

In its web review, the BBC calls this “a magical hybrid of technology and improvisation, Europe and America, ambience and dance.” It’s definitely all those things.

I find myself especially excited about this release because there have been so few genuinely successful jazz/electronica hybrids worth listening to. This music manages to be idiomatic and credible in both genres. The genre transcendence achieved on this disc has a magical, mystical, almost spiritual aspect that – in an interesting way – places it firmly into the tradition of ‘acoustic music’ regardless of the actual sounds and instrumentation used. It’s not really jazz, not really electronic music, but it’s not world music either. It’s what Miles Davis tried to do in his electric days, only in 2010, there are no more limitations to instrumentation, sound design or the possibilities of arrangement.

Food is Thomas Strønen (drums, live electronics), Iain Bellamy (tenor and soprano saxophones), Nils Petter Molvær (trumpet, electronics) and Christian Fennesz (guitar, electronics). A super group of sorts, at least in the areas of European improvised jazz and brainy, glitchy electronica. Strønen and Bellamy have been at it for a while as Food. Molvær had a short but intense brush with fame in the late 90s when he released a few reasonably successful electronica/jazz crossover records on ECM (only to leave the label when it couldn’t get its head around the openness of remix culture, preferring to think of albums as complete artist statements). Fennesz has enjoyed a surprisingly high profile given that he has released only a handful of records of ambient, glitchy, noisy guitar-driven electronica in the last 10 years (his latest, Black Sea, is brilliant and very listenable; Venice and Endless Summer are quite brilliant but not terribly listenable).

Quiet Inlet is a collection of fiercely rhythmic ambient jazz, partially composed and partially improvised. The overall profile of this ensemble is saxophone, trumpet, electronic pads and textures, and electronically treated drums.

Thomas Strønen is a fantastic drummer – the booklet images (in typically stylish black and white ECM photography) show him using a huge amount of electronics, possibly greater in number than actual drums – with a fail-proof sense of groove and the uncanny ability to shoe-horn any amount of polyrhythmic detail and ornamentation into a track without cluttering it. He strikes me as a sort of contemporary Manu Katché, an impossibly groovy and musical drummer, but with an embrace of the full spectrum of electronic enhancements, sampling, loops, and so on.

Iain Bellamy sounds like a very focused free jazz improviser. Given that this is an ECM release, his sound often comes across as not entirely unlike Jan Garbarek‘s, but with more Celtic (and obviously fewer Nordic folk) influences. I really find myself appreciating the restraint he exercises in these pieces – there’s a great economy in his playing, not dissimilar to Jon Hassell‘s, maybe.

Nils Petter Molvær has a beautiful, subdued, muted, yet sharply-drawn Miles Davis trumpet sound that blends easily and effectively with Bellamy’s. I recall not liking his previous ECM efforts all that much (they seemed like the explorations of someone fascinated by electronic music who was nonetheless not entirely able to make the jump), but here – since he’s not setting the agenda (I assume) – he’s an outstanding session contributor. Of course, it’s hard to say which of the four musicians is responsible for which electronic texture, so it’s quite possible that Molvær is much more instrumental to this than I think. (I should also say that I haven’t heard anything of his since Solid Ether.)

It’s even harder to say where Christian Fennesz’ noises on Quiet Inlet begin and end. His guitar mostly acts as an ‘input’ instrument and he hardly ever plays a lead part (although you can hear his guitar clearly on ‘Fathom’). Knowing his other work as I do leads me to imagine that quite a lot of the textures, pads and ‘bass lines’ here may be his.

ECM’s sound, as always, is impeccable – clear, crisp, spacious, great imaging, full, present without losing any of the dynamics of the music. I love this label (I’ve been listening to a lot of ECM lately), and this release may be one of its best in 2010. Highly recommended.

What’s left now is L’Atelier Grigorian, a small specialist classical and jazz CD store (very well curated but unfortunately expensive), HMV’s flagship store on Yonge Street (whose classical department upstairs focuses more and more on Naxos, Brilliant and other budget releases), and the classical sections in stores like Soundscapes (whose classical buyer is either myopic or schizophrenic, or both; it appears that only a small selection from mostly major labels gets brought in – surprising in a store that is so ‘indie’ in all other genres). There are classical departments in an ever-shrinking number of second hand CD stores in Toronto but they’re typically not really worth visiting.

Naturally, my eye has drifted online. Amazon.com, Amazon.ca and its various independent sellers have generally been a good, speedy – and cheap source. ArkivMusic (with its very useful catalogue containing syndicated reviews from Fanfare and other premium online review sources) is also very good (though pricier on average, and shipping can take a while).

One of the more exciting options these days is buying music digitally. While I remain deeply skeptical about iTunes (or anything that comes in a low-ish quality and with DRM), there is now an increasing number of credible and accomplished indie labels selling high-resolution digital files directly. In some cases, these are actually higher-resolution than a CD – up to actual studio master quality (SACD resolution or better). Even though I don’t have equipment that would easily allow me to play back high res audio files like that, it’s exciting to imagine that – as computer-based audio becomes cheaper and less niche-y – it’ll be possible one day to fully enjoy a studio quality master at home.

First up in the classical digital download offerings has to be Linn Records. Founded as an off-shoot of the Scottish high-end stereo manufacturer in the early 80s, Linn Records is a boutique audiophile label that is slowly emerging with a limited but excellent catalogue of classical recordings (as well as forays into jazz and singer/songwriter material). I’m a big fan of some of Linn’s Baroque releases, such as the truly outstanding and unanimously well-reviewed Bach Mass in B minor by the Dunedin Consort, a Scottish group that performs this work with one-to-a-part voicings (only one singer for every voice in the choral parts – this has the distinct advantage of showing off Bach’s intricate part-writing and illuminates the music’s overall architecture).

Other Linn releases I love are by various other Scottish Baroque players, many of whom have made big names for themselves in their various specialties since (and, sadly, moved on from Linn Records as a result). Particularly wonderful recordings are by the Palladian Ensemble (featuring the wonderful Rachel Podger, my favourite Baroque violinist) and by Pamela Thorby (who plays the recorder). Thorby’s Garden of Early Delights, performed together with Andrew Lawrence-King on harp and psaltery, is one of the loveliest selections of early Baroque music I’ve heard, beautifully played and recorded with an immense clarity, resonance and a width of sound stage second to none.

In fact, the audio quality of Linn’s work – there’s an interview with Linn’s chief producer/engineer, Calum Malcolm, here – is outstanding on every release. I’ve now bought and downloaded 320 kbps MP3 versions of a number of releases, and everything is breathtakingly well recorded.

Linn offers its own Adobe Air based download manager application, which works very well. The only complaint I have is about the somewhat awkwardly done digital booklets (they are PDFs of the print versions, so the pages are out of order in the PDF) and poor MP3 metadata. This latter issue is somewhat inexcusable for a download store – and while I understand that my 320 kbps MP3s are at the low end of Linn’s offerings and price point, there really is no reason why I should have to spend 10 minutes after every download importing and re-working the metadata in iTunes to ensure that it’s complete and accurate.

Another excellent digital music seller is Hyperion Records. Hyperion is primarily known for its outstanding efforts in chamber music, Lieder and the pre-classical repertoire. Its greatest claim to fame so far is probably the complete edition of Schubert Lieder (something I aim to own – and listen to – one of these years…).

Hyperion offers digital downloads either as VBR MP3s (targeting 320 kpbs) or FLAC (FLAC is generally emerging as the audiophile download format of choice – I grab FLAC where I can for archiving and down-convert to 320 kbps MP3s for the time being, in the interest of portability).

I’ve bought several excellent digital selections from Hyperion Records. Particularly enjoyable have been releases by Stephen Hough, an English pianist whom I admire greatly (and who also has an always intriguing and occasionally amusing Twitter presence). His Mozart Album is a wildly successful recital of Mozart and Mozart-inspired music, and I highly recommend it. I’ve also grabbed two very special Rossini releases – the Soirées musicales song cycle and an otherwise out-of-print edition of the String Sonatas in their original chamber version played by Elizabeth Wallfisch and ensemble.

Downloading from Hyperion is less convenient than Linn Records because Hyperion doesn’t offer a download manager (it references a few on its website, but alas – I use Google Chrome and none of the Firefox plugins support my browser) so you have to actually download each file separately. On the plus side, though, Hyperion’s metadata-labeling is superb and I have no completeness or accuracy concerns to report.

As I build my classical library, lingering doubts remain after every digital-only purchase. “If only I had bought the CD instead. What if MP3 or FLAC aren’t the last word yet for digital audio? If I owned the CD, at least I could re-rip it at a future date into whatever format will then be de rigueur.”

For right now, convenience wins out. 320 kpbs MP3s sound quite wonderful to my ears on most equipment (barring, perhaps, my main stereo in the living room, where they sound merely somewhat above acceptable but lack the fullness and depth of my CD player), and their portability-to-audiophile-to-economy ratio on a 160GB latest generation iPod is quite excellent (especially with one of these line-out iPod dock cables for the car).

There are other classical digital download options. Notably, Deutsche Grammophon offers some 3,500 of its releases, as well as some of the Decca catalogue (both now owned by Universal Music) as 320 kbps MP3 downloads. I haven’t tried this yet, but at first glance, the online catalogue seems somewhat confusing (you can always trust the corporate behemoth to create the dodgiest e-commerce offering). I was a little sad to see that the DG website doesn’t offer all of the newly merged Universal classical labels – I would have liked to be able to access the Deutsche Harmonia Mundi catalogue in this way, as it contains many gems I’d like to get my hands on digitally. Finally, I’m keen to see whether Harmonia Mundi itself, the fantastic French indie classical label, has digital sales plans of its own. Now that would be something…

Two perfect McFerrin videos: the first one has him singing the Bach part while the Montreal audience sings the Gounod bits of the famous ‘Ave Maria.’

The second one is together with Yo-Yo Ma, apparently on Japanese television. This is probably the best version of ‘Hush Little Baby’ you’ll ever hear.

The second performance is an extension of this brilliant McFerrin/Ma collaboration:

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Hush is quite unlike anything else you’ll ever hear. I highly recommend it. It’ll make you feel the wonder you felt as a kid when you first heard certain kinds of music.

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A review of Brad Mehldau Trio’s Day is Done (2005)

This is a surprisingly remarkable record. I’m not sure why it’s surprising, exactly: Brad Mehldau is one of the foremost young jazz pianists working today, and I enjoy most of his work that I’ve heard. But sometimes, a record will sort of insinuate itself in your consciousness; make its way to the top of where the fingers go to click on my Zune when I’m in the mood for a piano trio. I think it’s probably a combination of the quality of the music and quality of the audio.

Both are superb here. I’m especially fond of the two Beatles songs Mehldau tackles here (“She’s Leaving Home” and “Martha My Dear”). They’re intelligent, musical, intricate and hamonically adventurous. Mehldau is know for his utilization of pop songs as jazz standards. This has been, of course, standard practice in jazz almost since the beginning (taking popular tunes and performing them in innovative ways, treating them as frameworks for improvisation). Where Keith Jarrett’s standard trio, for instance, steadfastly stays away from amalgamating any new material into its repertoire, Mehldau actively seeks it out. He’s produced, over the years, some extraordinarily fun ‘new standards,’ such as Oasis’ “Wonderwall” and Radiohead’s “Exit Music (For a Film)” and Soundgarden’s “Black Hole Sun” (holy cow, what a great pick for a ‘new standard’ :) On this record, other outstanding covers include “Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover” and Radiohead’s “Knives Out.”

The trio interplay is flawless, intimate and conscious, which is all the more interesting given that this was the first studio album in a new trio formation. Sound clarity and balance is flawless. Highly recommended. And for those who are on the fence about jazz or piano trios, it’s a good basis for playing “guess the song.”

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A review of Manu Katché’s Neighbourhood (2005) and Playground (2007)

Manu Katché is a French drummer (born 1958), originally famous for being an in-demand session and live drummer on the 80s/90s ‘world fusion’ circuit (Peter Gabriel, Sting, etc.). Now, his proclivities evidently run more in a jazz direction, and he’s released two stunning and eminently listenable albums on ECM (the German “Edition of Contemporary Music” label that some call the 21st century’s Blue Note). Apparently, he’s also the French Simon Cowell: Wikipedia reports that between 2003 and 2007, he was the mean judge on Nouvelle Star, the French equivalent of American Idol (“He was the most feared of [the judges] for his wit and his severe judgement about the groove and the rhythm of the singer-wannabes.”).

While I’m only beginning to listen my way through ECM’s oeuvre of the past 20 years or so, it’s clear that German producer/owner Manfred Eicher‘s vision is distinctive and singular. No matter whether his releases contain jazz, contemporary classical (‘serious’?) music, or various flavours of world fusion, they are infused with a particular aesthetic – spacious, present, clear audio; a minimalist approach to arrangement; often an angular sound that requires listeners to really pay attention; but also a warmth that draws us in and captivates our imaginations – for me, many ECM releases are interesting lab experiments positing, “What would happen if…”. The label’s output is, in many ways, representative of an ‘alternate’ musical reality, a realm of possibilities that ‘mainstream’ record labels never really had, where jazz, classical and world music coexist and fruitfully collaborate without skepticism or genre constraints. ECM is one of the few ‘older’ independent labels that grew, and continues to maintain, its audience organically. (Some interesting points in this interview with Eicher.)

ECM’s typical jazz output is maybe best characterized as the dominant European jazz aesthetic: a postmodern type of jazz, rooted in the traditions of acoustic instrumentation (piano trios, classic quartets, quintets, septets, etc.); not typically groove-driven; deeply cognizant of all harmonic possibilities; interested in space and texture over melody; not ‘free jazz’ exactly but definitely exploratory-minded; and actively affirmative of European players’ (often names North American jazz listeners do not recognize at all) decades of experience that should receive more exposure than they do.

Recording Manu Katché’s solo records in that context creates – either deliberately or by happy coincidence – outstanding music because it juxtaposes ECM’s minimalist approach with his pattern-based grooves. The result is a sort of European ‘soul jazz’: Katché gives these players (and there are some truly formidable ones: Neighbourhood has Jan Garbarek on saxophone, Tomasz Stanko – whose music I have previously reviewed here – on trumpet, Marcin Wasilewski on piano and Slamowir Kurkiewicz on bass) the freedom to explore what it is like to play with firmer, more articulated, steadier rhythms carrying them. The compositions (all courtesy of Katché) make lovely use of the horn front-line (particularly beautiful, interestingly, on Playgroud, where Garbarek and Stanko are replaced by two younger players, Mathias Eick (tp) and Trygve Seim (sax)).

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From the point of view of a listener who comes to this music from rock, what’s particularly interesting to me here is that – despite the instrumentation (soprano saxophone?) and provencance (Katché’s world music background) – I don’t perceive this as ‘fusion’ or have any Kenny G. associations (I have felt those before, particular when listening to some of Jan Garbarek’s less experimental solo work). While it’s always melodic, the rhythmically propelled, acoustic nature and non-ingratiating authenticity of these records make them equally ideal to listen to in the car (where other ECM jazz releases, like Thomsz Stanko’s records or the Marcin Wasilewski Trio, really don’t work at all) or pay attention late at night wearing headphones.

I also really enjoy how these CDs bring out a more optimistic, positive side of the “ECM sound”: while I find Stanko, Warcilewski and others endlessly fascinating and engaging in their abstractness and angular, ‘important’ musical explorations, they can also, at times, have a bit of a ponderous and depressing effect on me, all cold Scandinavian textures, hints and silences. When Katché’s groove emerges, as it does beautifully at around 1:45 in “Morning Joy” on Playground, my ears perk up and my toes start tapping. I suppose even a label like ECM, with its programmatic approach to musical exploration, ultimately affirms the power of a pattern-based groove. It is, in the end, what makes most popular music work. (I thought of discussing here whether ECM’s is, indeed, ‘popular’ music but decided against it…)

Other perceptive reviews to read: the BBC about Neighbourhood, All About Jazz about Neighbourhood, The Guardian about Neighbourhood, Budd Kopman on All About Jazz about Playground, John Kelman on All About Jazz about Playground.

For someone who thinks of himself as both musical and deeply interested in listening to all kinds of music, I had, previously, studiously avoided listening to jazz. While I had been taught about jazz in high school (Improvisation! Dissonances! Drugs! Trumpets!), I think I had mostly seen New Orleans jazz as interesting but limited, swing (and its various revivals) as quaint and melodious but not very fulfilling and been put off by bebop’s endless “noodling.” Really put off.

My aversion wasn’t a blanket refusal, of course: I had explored certain things because I had found a connection to them, and – as a voracious music listener – it wasn’t particularly hard to find exposure even when I wasn’t looking. So I did have, in my collection:

• Billie Holiday: Because you can’t avoid her as one of the most, if not the most, compelling singer in the history of recorded popular music;
• Louis Armstrong: Because the Hot Fives and Sevens transcend their time and audio limitations completely;
• Django Reinhardt: Because he was an extraordinarily interesting guitar player and his story is one of the craziest of any musician I’ve come across;
• Nina Simone: Because it was easy to find a connection to her through my interest in the blues;
• Bill Frisell: Because he created an interesting, challenging hybrid between jazz and country/folk, and it was a sound that strongly appealed to me (still does), a sparse exploration of popular music in a style not unlike Ry Cooder’s in a way;
• Cassandra Wilson: Because she has a fantastic voice and sang Son House and Robert Johnson songs as if they were standards and created an entirely new, eerie kind of music;
• Keith Jarrett: I didn’t really explore very much of his oeuvre, but I was familiar with The Köln Concert and a few other solo recordings – I thought this was interesting and unusual music that had strong rhythmic and folk/New Age elements that I really enjoyed;
• Madeleine Peyroux: Because on a good day, she manages to sound very much like Billie Holiday, which is to say a lot. She’s an excellent performer of other people’s material and creates a lovely, warm, entertaining sound that draws you in (although I’m not so sure about her most recent effort which features her own compositions);
• Miles Davis: Because, as someone interested in the history of rock, you couldn’t exactly ignore Miles’ late 60s/early 70s electric recordings, particularly the live material, featuring various bands that, frankly, rocked harder than Jimi Hendrix and Led Zeppelin put together;
• The Mahavishnu Orchestra: Because, after exploring Miles Davis’ Bitches Brew you can’t really ignore some of the stuff that came in its wake, and this seemed approachable (although, I have to say, I never felt entirely sure why this was classified as jazz and not prog rock).

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Lately, I’ve been exploring jazz almost exclusively (for a month or two, anyway). I’ve discovered countless hours of fantastic music. I’m starting to piece together the history of it as I read Ted Gioia’s The History of Jazzand I feel like a kid in a candy store, discovering this great genre to which I had been closed all these years.

I’ll be reporting my thoughts about my discoveries right here on Teabowl.

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A review of the Tomasz Stanko Quartet’s Lontano (2006)

Tomasz Stanko is a Polish jazz trumpeter who sounds a little like Miles Davis without anger. Lontano contains a series of thoughtful, quiet and slightly angular (maybe geometric is a better word) pieces made with a young trio consisting of Marcin Wasilewski (p), Slamowir Kurkiewicz (b) and drummer Michal Miskiewicz. (These three have also made two very good piano trio recordings of their own that I’ll write about another time.)

This is a particularly European form of jazz – a specific interpretation of the American tradition, fused not with classical forms as one might expect, but rather imbued with a cinematic quality that results in a sort of abstract mood music whose melodies, harmonies and modality are rooted in jazz but which, at the same time, is largely disconnected from jazz history. Its connection to the blues is as abstract as, say, Ennio Morricone’s might be.

It’s a spacious, still music, this. I found myself paying very close attention to the finest details, the smallest plink of a piano key, bru shes against drum heads, the sound of the piano’s sustain pedal being depressed, the breathiness of Stanko’s muted but crystal clear tone. Much is expressed by virtue of not actually being played; it’s hinted-at, barely there, suppressed because it’s not really necessary. Where many jazz ensembles focus their improvisation on filling space (by trading off between soloists, for example), this quartet is primarily about getting out of each other’s way. Its economy is its great strength.

When they do decide to play more conventionally (like, for example, in the middle of ‘Cyrhla’, for me the standout track here), the effect is immense and uplifting: a simple blues-based improvisation suddenly seems like the most musical thing you’ve ever heard. And it’s not an effect that wanes on second and third listening. Even though you now know what’s coming, it’s still spectacular.

This is a very powerful band, led by an outstanding trumpeter. It may take you a listen or two to connect with it, but it’s quite rewarding.

The Esbjörn Svensson Trio sounds like the most balanced and smartest modern ‘jazz’ piano trio of the ones I’ve heard. It’s post-everything: it’s not ironic, not ‘fusion’ in any way – it feels like a logical growth path for jazz. It’s sad that Svensson died in a scuba diving accident last year. This tune sounds more like Kruder & Dorfmeister than Bill Evans.

Thelonious Monk, from Library and Archives Canada via Wikimedia Commons

Seen today on Wikipedia:

Bassist Al McKibbon, who had known Monk for over twenty years and played on his final tour in 1971, later said: “On that tour Monk said about two words. I mean literally maybe two words. He didn’t say ‘Good morning’, ‘Goodnight’, ‘What time?’ Nothing. Why, I don’t know. He sent word back after the tour was over that the reason he couldn’t communicate or play was that Art Blakey and I were so ugly.”

I find myself wondering what the two words were that he did say. Maybe I have too much time on my hands.

This is a truly great Thelonious Monk record to hear if you have the chance:

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Cascading, effervescent, energetic, virtuoso, surprising, accomplished. You’d need a stream of adjectives to describe how these two play together. An easier way to say it might be to think of four hands attached, somehow, to the same brain. An orchestra of pianos, perfectly conducted by a single musical mind. This record is the result of

1 night, 2 pianos, 2 sets, 4 hands, 12 songs, 20 fingers, 176 keys, about 600 people in the audience and thousands of ideas exchanging between the two pianists and the audience,

…as Chick Corea says in his liner notes. It’s certainly showy – these are two seasoned jazz pianists, and their technical skills are impeccable. Chick Corea needs no introduction (Miles Davis, Return to Forever). Hiromi Uehara, a month away from being 30 years old, is a Japanese piano Wunderkind – trained at Berklee College of Music and known for her energetic live performances with the Hiromi Uehara Trio. Corea says he found her playing inspirational and suggested they record a set of duets together.

If you spend any amount of time listening to this, though, the showiness becomes less important, and the music speaks clearly. Full of delightful subtleties, surprises and curve balls, Corea and Uehara both hold each performance down tightly while challenging each other in a what-else-can-you-do-with-that kind of way. The program is mostly jazz and pop standards, well known material, but, as with any jazz improvisation, the pleasure is in the moment of surprise, and in how the moments, together, form a lasting musical whole. Each tune’s lines are beautifully concluded, and nothing is allowed to ‘fizz out’ in the din of improvisation.

Instead of discussing it more, here are two Youtube clips of Hiromi and Chick playing:

If you have a chance to hear the CD, you should.

What I can’t quite figure out is whether they practiced before performing, and how much. With this level of musicianship, it’s entirely possible that very little was rehearsed and agreed beforehand. One guesses that they shared creating the setlist at least (hard to imagine that one would kick off a tune and have the other guess what it is). Either way, once you’ve absorbed the pyrotechnics a bit, this is quite a transcendent musical treat.

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A review of Jill Barber’s Chances (2008)

Jill Barber is a Halifax-based… traditional jazz singer? Swing singer? Country singer? Torch singer? Maybe “western swing,” antiquated as it sounds, is a good genre for her. I had previously heard, and loved, her album For All Time, which was a little more country and r&b, and a little less jazz.

This record is “fully orchestrated,” meaning that she’s accompanied by a band and an orchestra. This open up musical opportunities: her voice lends itself well to this slighty twangy big band canvas. And what a lovely voice it is: Jill Barber’s tone is straight-up like Norah Jones, full like Fiona Apple (but not as angry), playful like Marilyn Monroe (why not use her as a comparison…?), and she has the sort of sure-footed pitch and phrasing that indicates a professional singer’s long apprenticeship. She also has something magical that can’t be articulated easily: her voice is engaging, interesting and – ultimately – unforgettable.

Three songs are co-written by Barber with Ron Sexsmith, who elevates Barber’s already quite fabulous game to an entirely new level. These are gems – songs that would have been chart hits 50 or 60 years ago and that will inevitably deserve a much wider audience than they’ll get.

I love the ‘widescreen’ production on this – the production values, recording quality, the mix and the mastering are fabulous. This CD has one of the widest soundstages I’ve heard in a while. Kudos to producer/arranger Les Cooper. The musicianship is flawless, too, and there are some nice touches in the instrumentation (flute, fiddle, vibes).

Standout tracks for me are “Chances,” “Oh My My” (which I think is completely fantastic in a sort of secular gospel way and imagine to be great live) and “Never Quit Loving You.”

Where Susie Arioli (swing chanteuse from Montreal whose neo-traditional swing is not entirely dissimilar to this) can sound sleepy at times, the quality of the songcraft here, Jill’s unique voice and the slow but muscular arrangements kept me interested and excited throughout.

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Billie Holiday changed how we hear women sing. In recorded music, she essentially redefined vocal pop music by introducing a more personal and immediate singing style. She also changed how we think about phrasing, basing hers on instrumental music rather than the rhythms and cadences of pronunciation. But quite apart from all that, Billie Holiday is just an absolute joy to listen to – one of those timeless artists whose music can be enjoyed in any situation, surroundings and at any time of day. Everybody should have some Billie Holiday in their CD collection. Hers is an instantly recognizable and likable sound, so deeply embedded in the fabric of popular music that pop itself is no longer imaginable without Billie Holiday. All subsequent jazz singers, and most subsequent blues and r&b vocalists, owe her a tremendous debt of gratitude. This four-disc box set is dirt cheap and contains all the seminal early records from the 1930s and 40s – the decades when she was at the peak of her vocal power and invention. Everything has been restored impeccably from the best copies available. (Subsequent recordings sound better because recording technology had improved considerably, but Billie’s voice began to reflect her drug and alcohol consumption, and her performances were no longer as elastic or accomplished.)

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I know people say “Snorah Jones.” But I like her music – I think it’s mature in a good way: music that begs to be listened to, music that’s firmly based in craft (she’s a very fine pianist) and sung with a clear, expressive voice. Yes, it’s subdued and acoustic and, as such, has been embraced by dinner party hosts and easy listening FM stations everywhere. I also like her selections; it’s music that occupies the space vacated by Aretha Franklin (when Aretha lost her bluesy grit sometime in the mid 1970s) as much as it addresses the listening public’s need for a less austere, horsy (dare I say, less ‘white’?) Diana Krall. And all of it is delivered with more than a small helping of country twang because – despite the fact that her dad’s an Indian classical music superstar and world music hero – Norah’s really from Texas.

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Sometimes, the music you don’t understand is the music that touches you most deeply. I’ve never been much of a jazz listener; I’ve skirted around it for years, essentially avoiding bebop in its myriad permutations, and enjoying traditional jazz, some fusion and a lot of the more postmodern artists influenced by hip hop or country, such as Medeski Martin & Wood and Bill Frisell – music that’s technically jazz, but also, in some fundamental way, not. Kahil El’Zabar’s Ritual Trio falls into this category. Originally a trio but consisting of four musicians for a decade or so, the Ritual Trio features amazing, African, tribal-sounding percussion, a deep, rumbling and melodic double bass, a tenor saxophone and an electric violin. The music has lots of space and passion. It’s very spiritual and soulful, develops slowly and unfolds into moments of extreme beauty and power, similar in impact to Fela Kuti maybe, or the spirit of Miles Davis when he played an improvised sort of ‘voodoo funk’ on 1970s live records like Dark Magus and Live-Evil.

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The wonderful first album from Madeleine Peyroux, a jazz singer whose music and voice sound somewhat like Billie Holiday. This is very well-recorded and engaging music.

Her two subsequent albums are also good. I like this for dinner parties, in the car and on long, sunny summer weekends (which we’re currently experiencing).

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This is simply incredible music. I dearly love really old, pre-bebop jazz, and Louis Armstrong invented much of it. More than a trend-setter, he was an inspiration to generations of musicians (of any genre). These British remasters of the early recordings are flawlessly done (an example of how Europe’s ‘lax’ copyright laws drive technical innovation foward and prices down, but let’s not get into politics here :)

Sad news: Jeff Healey died of cancer on Sunday.

Jeff, who was blind, first became famous for playing electric blues guitar, holding it across his lap. He had always been an avid collector of old jazz 78′s, and released two superb ‘revivalist’ traditional jazz albums in recent years, where he played the trumpet and guitar.

He leaves behind his wife and two children. News stories at Reuters and on the Jeff Healey website.