Alex Ross

The New Yorker's really excellent music critic Alex Ross has just written a very big book, And The Rest Was Noise, which gives an account of classical music in the 20th century. He's a terrific writer; I've learned quite a lot from him. He's also an unabashed geek. Example: he put up juxtaposed photos of a recent vacation on his website; one of was of a gloomy, blustery, industrial dusk in St. Paul, Minnesota, the other was palm trees and bright blue water on a sunny day in Miami. The awesome caption is, "Possessing a Sibelian mentality, I felt more at home in St. Paul." Ha ha! The loveable nerd-dom of it. (Also, mentioning you're into Sibelius is going to win me over every time).
Anyway, I definitely recommend you pick up the book, and then lend it to me when you're done so I can stop reading 15 pages, doing a whole bunch of other shit, then having to take it back to the library.
Also, check out Sibelius' 4th Symphony and you'll see what he means.

grasping for words about Nicole Mitchell

Hello. My name is Jennifer Swanson and I play the flute and I am a big music nerd.

This is my first of hopefully many guest posts on this lovely idea for a blog that I sincerely hope becomes something that many Chicagoans, or at least those in our widespread group of friends, frequent and add to. !!!

I want to write about a recent musical experience I had that taught me about the beauty of instrumentation and instrumentalists and how choosing a good combination of both things will make music a beautiful adventure.

I had the amazing and lucky opportunity to play with the Nicole Mitchell Large Ensemble last Monday. Nicole Mitchell is one of the few jazz FLUTISTS, pure flutists, in this country, maybe the world, and she is a brilliant composer-performer-flutist. Her sound on the flute is one of the best I know, and I believe this is largely due to the freedom she has when she plays. Jazz=improv=freedom=no limitations, or at least not a constant awareness of them. She has all this plus a complete and utter lack of ego- she exudes an innocent and soulful beauty in all of her endeavours.
She comes from an initial education in Classical music, but has since separated from it, though still holds it in great regard.

The concert on Monday was a tribute to her father who loved Classical music. The compositions thus made use of her Classical knowledge, but allowed for times of improvisation. In the Nicole way, everyone got to solo, and all solos were played energetically and fearlessly.

What was so wonderful about this gig was to play with this technically and musically amazing person who can see the beauty in everyone and who seems to truly believe that every musician has something to say and just needs to find their way of expressing it. I think that playing for someone who believes that makes it happen.

There was a certain "specialness" to the gig that I believe stemmed from that.
And, on a personal note, I don't think I could have soloed for my first time with a group of professional jazz musicians like that for anyone else. Which is why I feel so very lucky.

The instrumentation was innovative and made for some surreal moments--- 3 flutes, 3 violins, 2 vibraphones, trombone, bass clarinet, and double bass. Unusual, but it worked. There were moments where we had an almost Bach-like chamber symphony sound. The harmonies Nicole wrote highlighted this beautiful and unusual instrumentation and made for some great sounds.

Nicole has been criticized in the past for writing too much melody, AKA cheesiness. I have criticized her in the past for the same... but at the same time, when watching her play it, I don't really care because she sounds so damn good.

The music she wrote for this gig threatened to be "cheesy" as it was supposed tribute music to her father; but I would say that very much due to the unique instrumentation, and the musicianship and accepting personalities of all musicians involved, the music was only exciting, emotional, and beautiful.

Anyway, there's my first post... it's been awhile since I've written anything of substance, so pardon the low level writing style. Thanks for reading if you made it this far. :)

A Few Propers and Dust From 1000 Years

Welcome! I spose it would be reasonable, as I embark upon this thing, to lay out a few of the broad goals I have in mind, though I'm sure I'll waste no time in veering happily off topic. I'd like this page to serve a few main purposes: to articulate, in some detail, my experiences of live music in Chicago as well as of various sounds of the recorded variety; to direct readers' attention and eventually affection towards groups who are producing terrific and flavorful music and making a totally vital contribution to the life of live music in the city without being much recognized for doing so; and, maybe most ambitiously, to provide a forum where I, at times, become just a contributing voice and moderator in a larger conversation among and about Chicago artisans of sound. Essentially, bring something to say about the sounds around you and about the sounds you make and that should do the trick. This would be a way of getting us, the music making community into a dialogue with us, the listening community. Make any sense? Yeah!!

Well then, maybe I should get right to it. Friday night I had the pleasure of hearing a stripped down, even thoroughly hushed set from frequent Chicago visitors Dust From 1000 Years of Bloomington, IN at a house-show in Logan Square. First of all, there is no venue quite like someone's living room. The hugely diminished sense of distance, both physical and metaphorical, between musicians and audience gives rise to this sort of personal, privileged, and immediate "living" of the music passing between performers and listeners that can just not be realized in a traditional concert setting. And the way "Dust" crafted their set and their sonorities to this distinctive dynamic was thoughtful and effective. Main vocalist/guitarist Ben (last name unknown--by me) made no pretenses of being too absorbed by the music to notice the several dozen people crowding in upon him on couches, stools stolen from the kitchen, or sitting tight packed on the living room floor. Explicit nods to this brand of audience included leaning his head back in feigned(?) ecstasy when an exuberant fan and friend of the band gave him a shoulder massage mid-song and taking (without asking) healthy swigs from paper-bagged 40s and PBR bottles borrowed from the scrum of generally silent, attentive, even enthralled listeners. The rest of the band acknowledged the at times irritating (and drunken) banter from a few of the listeners with smiles and genial, measured, comments that were neither dismissive nor over-indulgent.

One indicator of how good a band is is their ability to depart in all kinds of ways from their "bedrock" or recorded sound and still deliver coherent renditions of their tunes. One gets a sense of just how good Dust is by comparing the sound of amps, varied instrumentation, and complex layers on their three full-lengths to the utterly soft-spoken, bare-bones set they delivered Friday night while drawing largely on the same pool of songs. The drums were graced (and "graced" is definitely appropriate) by soft-rattling brushes alone; the two acoustic guitar parts at times sounded like a single, subtly contrapuntal instrument, so restrained and precise was the playing; and the keys were kept to such a low level, even when they carried the melodic line, that they sounded almost underwater, or wafted in from far-off. Even when Dust's folk-hearted, plaintive strains reached a rare climax in volume, everything was in proportion to both the small size and, perhaps, the easy, downright familial atmosphere of the room. I think it's well to remember that these sorts of musical experiences can be just as vital and just as transporting as their big-stage, big-venue counterparts. Dust From 1000 Years certainly seems to know it.

Dust From 1000 Years on Myspace