I offer this music as a tangy alternative to songs of Frosty and Santa, but it sounds good all through the year. This post is also for Maurice Kessler and Amber Cosmos Chubb and all the Micro-nauts out there.
To send 2022 out of here with vigor, here are the final selections from the Microscopic Septet’s July gig at The Jazz Forum. Nobody is like them, and that is a great compliment to them.
Back in New York after a five-year absence, The Microscopic Septet wowed us in two sets at Tarrytown’s hidden jazz oasis, the Jazz Forum on Sunday night, July 17, 2022. The Micros are Joel Forrester, pianist, composer, arranger, co-leader; Phillip Johnston, soprano saxophone, composer, arranger, co-leader; Richard Dworkin, drums; Dave Hofstra, string bass; Dave Sewelson, baritone saxophone, vocal on I’VE GOT A RIGHT TO CRY; Michael Hashim, tenor saxophone; Don Davis, alto saxophone.
Here are the last selections from the second set.
A little Monk:
and an original:
and another:
and a classic Micros classic:
and the official Micros set-closer:
Bless them! They are bright lights of originality, wit, and fervor.
Accept no substitutes: the Micros make Merry in Tarrytown.
This post is the fourth in a series documenting the 2022 New York reunion of the Microscopic Septet: Phillip Johnston, Joel Forrester, Don Davis, Dave Sewelson, Michael Hashim, Dave Hofstra, Richard Dworkin, at the Jazz Forum in Tarrytown. Fewer words, more music.
LET’S COOLERATE ONE:
SUSPENDED ANIMATION:
MY, WHAT AN UGLY BABY (The Unattractive Child Two-Step):
YOU GOT THAT:
A REALLY GOOD QUESTION:
MIGRAINE BLUES:
And there’s one more substantial helping of Microscopia to come.
This post is the third in a series documenting the 2022 New York reunion of the Micrscopic Septet: Phillip Johnston, Joel Forrester, Don Davis, Dave Sewelson, Michael Hashim, Dave Hofstra, Richard Dworkin, at the Jazz Forum in Tarrytown. Fewer words, more music.
NERVE:
BOO BOO COMING:
THE MIRROR (should I be startled that an audience of adults still laughs at jokes that have “dam(n)” as the payoff? Good clean fun:
A recent blues, DON’T MIND IF I DO:
And the Micros’ unequalled set-closer, Maestro Sewelson’s impassioned take on I’VE GOT A RIGHT TO CRY:
This post is of course for the Micros themselves, creators of dense translucencies, stomping minuets, and for Mark and Ellen of the Jazz Forum, and loyal listeners Maurice and Amber. All hail! We hope for a Micros reunion in New York sooner than 2027.
When my current thoughts about “The Scene” — the scope of live jazz performance — are dire, because some of the people I admired and heard in 1974 or even 2014 are no longer on the planet . . . in Eddie Condon’s words, “the parade’s gone by,” I think of the Micros, sweetly durable. And that they came to Tarrytown to play. There are fifteen or so more video-performances to come from that night, so watch this space.
For the first performance of the evening and the full introduction, please seehere.
Our business today is musical, not verbal: more from the wonderful Sunday gig at The Jazz Forum.
Monk’s FRIDAY THE THIRTEENTH:
WHEN YOU GET IN OVER YOUR HEAD:
PARIS BLUES:
BABY STEPS:
PANNONICA:
This post is of course for the Micros themselves, creators of dense translucencies, stomping minuets, and for Mark and Ellen of the Jazz Forum, and loyal listeners Maurice and Amber. All hail! We hope for a Micros reunion in New York sooner than 2027.
And there are fifteen or so more video-performances to come from that night, so watch this space.
Halley’s Comet comes back every ninety years. By those standards, The Microscopic Septet is a frequent visitor to New York: 2017, then now. But five years is a long time by earthly standards, so the return of the Micros is a jubilant thing.
News flash: the Micros will be playing their other New York gig at Smalls, Christopher Street, Thursday, July 21. Be there if you can or become a member for free, or better, make a donation here and watch the live-stream.
Michael Hashim, Dave Sewelson
Co-leaders, composers, arrangers Joel Forrester, Phillip Johnston
I know it’s odd to start with still photographs, since the Micros are such a mobile group, but they are terribly photogenic, so I couldn’t resist. One more:
Phillip, Don Davis, Dave Hofstra, Michael
And now to more words. The Microscopic Septet wowed us in two sets at Tarrytown’s hidden jazz oasis, the Jazz Forum (a wonderful place!) on Sunday night, July 17, 2022. They are Joel Forrester, pianist, composer, arranger, co-leader; Phillip Johnston, soprano saxophone, composer, arranger, co-leader; Richard Dworkin, drums; Dave Hofstra, string bass; Dave Sewelson, baritone saxophone, vocal on I’VE GOT A RIGHT TO CRY; Michael Hashim, tenor saxophone; Don Davis, alto saxophone.
And if you are new to the Micros — who have been visible and audible for thirty-and-more years — they are more expansive than my words could convey. They have energies in profusion, and they rock. Their rhythm never falters, and you’ll hear elements of the last hundred years of jazz mixed in a savory stew, always surprising: reed-section unisons and backgrounds, riffs and stop-times, passionate soloing that owes much to early rhythm and blues on one end, free jazz on the other. Strong melodic lines and lots of drama, leavened with humor, futuristic and earthy all at once.
Here’s the first performance of the first set, Joel’s MANHATTAN MOONRISE:
Oh yes, there will be more! But get yourself to Smalls on Thursday night, two sets.
The Microscopic Septet is one of the most imaginative jazz groups it’s ever been my privilege to encounter. The last time that happened five years ago, since co-leaders Joel Forrester and Phillip Johnston live far apart, but they are reuniting in New York for four sets, two nights, in July 2022.
The Septet is Joel Forrester, piano, compositions, arrangements; Michael Hashim, tenor saxophone; Don Davis, alto saxophone; Phillip Johnston, soprano saxophone, compositions, arrangements Dave Sewelson, baritone saxophone; Dave Hofstra, string bass; Richard Dworkin, drums. If I tried to describe what they did, it would be inaccurate because narrow: let’s just say they lovingly take the past and send it Priority Mail into the future, with surprises thrown in free of charge.
Here’s a taste of what they did (and I captured) in 2017.
WHEN YOU GET IN OVER YOUR HEAD (you’ll forget the noisy audience immediately):
Phillip’s LET’S COOLERATE ONE:
HANG IT ON A LINE:
And here’s Phillip’s commentary on the return / reunion:
Active for a dozen years, the Microscopic Septet were widely recognized as “New York’s Most Famous Unknown Band.” The group started with a basic reeds-and-rhythm texture (soprano, alto, tenor and baritone sax, piano, bass and drums) that was sonically similar to the sound of the Swing Era. However, they employed these textures to address a widely eclectic range of styles, from free-form music to R&B, rhumbas and ragtime.The result was a brilliant blend of fresh-sounding orchestration and inspired soloing. Beloved in New York, where they generally drew capacity crowds, “The Micros” were one of the most celebrated of the many cutting-edge units associated with experimental music’s best-known venue, the Knitting Factory, during the peak years of the “Downtown” music movement in the mid 1980s onward.Beginning in 2006, the Micros came back together again, sparked by a re-release of their 1980s LPs on a series of CDs on Cuneiform, eventually releasing a series of highly regarded CD, also on Cuneiform, featuring both new and earlier, unrecorded Micros music.Beginning with Lobster Leaps In and followed by Friday The 13th: The Micros Play Monk, Manhattan Moonrise and Been Up So Long It Looks Like Down to Me: The Micros Play the Blues, the Micros began playing once or twice a year in New York, despite the fact that the two band-leaders, Phillip Johnston lives in Sydney, Australia, and Joel Forrester in Lyons, France, until the pandemic made travel impossible. . . . until now. In July 2022, for the first time since the 2017 concert ‘Forever Weird’ at The Kitchen (with generational fellow travelers Jazz Passengers & Kamikaze Ground Crew), the Micros are gathering in New York to play two gigs, at Jazz Forum and Smalls Jazz Club.
“The Micros skip merrily through the century, finding an avant-garde side street branching off from a trad-jazz Main Street…. As always with the Micros, it’s gloriously, delightfully and inappropriately right. Welcome back.” – DOWN BEAT
And the gig details. Sunday, July 17, 2022, The Jazz Forum, Tarrytown, New York, two shows, 4 and 6 PM. Tickets:https://jazzforumarts.org/.
Certain simultaneous experiences resonate in my memory even though they happened decades ago. I believe that I heard Louis sing and play CHINATOWN, MY CHINATOWN in the same year that I was first introduced to that downtown New York City neighborhood, through the kindness of S.N. Zimny, so a hot performance of that song always tastes like the first bite of roast duck chow mei fun to me.
Louis loved Chinese food, by the way.
More recently, through the good offices of Joel and Mary Forrester, I found out about XO Kitchen Restaurant on Hester Street, pictured above and below.
They are open for business! I don’t have the psychic energy needed to go there, but I can dream. (If you go, know that they don’t take credit cards.)
WordPress is not yet sophisticated enough for me to send you dinner through this blogpost — you’re on your own — but I can and will share a hot performance of CHINATOWN that was created right in front of me on November 14, 2019, by Jon-Erik Kellso, trumpet; Chris Flory, guitar; Evan Arntzen, clarinet and tenor saxophone; Neal Miner, string bass, at Cafe Bohemia, 15 Barrow Street.
Returning to the culinary thread for just a moment, Google Maps says it’s a 1.7 mile walk from Cafe Bohemia to X O — either way — that would take 12 minutes. They haven’t seen me walk, but no matter.
Here’s the music: as satisfying as any meal I could imagine and then some:
Perhaps 2021 will be the year when both these pleasures are once again available to us, freely and easily. For now, you can change the dinner menu in intriguing ways — perhaps add stir-fried broccoli? — and you can watch and listen, I hope joyously in both cases.
I’ve been taking as many opportunities as I can to see, hear, and sometimes record pianist-composer-inventer Joel Forrester in this summer of 2018, because he and Mary will be in France for much of the next year, from September onward. If you take that as an undisguised suggestion to go to one of his gigs, none of us will mind.
JOEL FORRESTER, photograph by Metin Oner
Joel is a remarkable explorer: not only does he follow his own whimsies, giving himself over to them as they blossom in sonic air, but he also is curious about forms. He casually said at this gig (last Wednesday night at JULES(65 St. Marks Place) that one composition came about, decades earlier, when he was deciding to be a bebop pianist or a stride one. I think the two “styles” coexist nicely in him to this day. Here’s some evidence. And if “traditionally-minded” listeners can’t hear and enjoy his wholly loving heretical embraces, more’s the pity. Or pities.
Joel is also full of various comedies, and some of them come out in wordplay. So this tune, which makes me think of Chicago, 1933, is called THE SPERM OF THE MOMENT. Imagine that:
Celebrating a tender domestic return (as Joel explains), BACK IN BED:
NATURAL DISASTER, which happily does not live up to its title:
GONE TOMORROW, a meditation on the passage of time, which makes me think of 11:57 PM on my wristwatch:
SHELLEY GETS DOWN, complete with siren, in honor of singer Shelley Hirsch:
An entire tradition of improvised music passes through Joel while he is busily making it his own. We’d be poorer without him.
Another Sunday afternoon with pianist-composer Joel Forrester at Jules, 66 St. Marks Place in New York City.
JOEL FORRESTER, photograph by Metin Oner
This afternoon, Joel brought along a dear friend and deep colleague, string bassist David Hofstra, who has been a mainstay of the Microscopic Septet for years. Joel and David have been playing alongside each other since the Seventies, and their first recording is from 1980.
My readers have already heard or read me being seriously enthusiastic about Joel’s original compositions and his improvisations: they honor many traditions but fit neatly into no shoebox-sized category. But since I don’t think I’ve ever witnessed Joel and David together as a duo, may I call your attention to the latter’s beautiful choice of notes, his steady unforced time, his gentle lyricism? David is no antiquarian (I’m older than he is, if the online data is right) but he harks back to a time when the string bass was both treated with respect and known as the harmonic and often moral foundation of the music in which it worked. Just beautiful — and the two players here are in splendid intuitive harmony.
PHILLIP’S BLUES (which I presume is in honor of Microscopic Septet’s co-leader, saxophonist / composer Phillip Johnston):
Gentle meditations on the finite, NOTHING LASTS FOREVER:
A compact Frolick, LOOK TO YOU:
Joel will be at JULES all summer — solo, duo, trio. He and Mary are off to France for a year in September, so savor this music while he — and friends — are here.
Pianist, composer, writer Joel Forrester invents scores for silent films and has done so for decades. But we don’t associate him with the megaphone and director’s chair, nor does he have credits as a producer or director. Yet I’ve come to think of some of Joel’s more evocative compositions and performances as the scores for films that have not made it to the screen. Soundtracks to our own imaginings.
Here are three such cinema-without-cinema creations, invented and re-invented on Sunday, May 6, at the delightful French bistro / jazz club JULES (65 Saint Marks Place, an easy walk from several subways). Joel is playing at Jules every Sunday this summer from 4-6:30, sometimes solo, sometimes with guests / friends: a day ago, he had a trio of himself, David Hofstra, string bass; Vito Dieterle, tenor saxophone. JULES is lovely, by the way — good food, interesting wines, and a truly friendly staff. And the latter means more to people like me than I can say.
From May 6. Close your eyes and imagine the film — this one is easy, because it is Joel’s idea of music to be played while the credits roll:
This Middle Eastern sound-portrait is named for Joel and Mary’s son, the illustrious Max. I met him — not in the desert — and he deserves this song:
Finally, one of Forrester’s many selves, among them the swing pianist, the eccentric / novelty / stride pianist, the Powell-and-Monk through a bright prism, and the 1933 Chicago blues pianist, half in the dark, a half-finished beer on top of the piano which is of course a little assertive in the upper octaves:
Did you like Cinema Forrester? More to come. And come visit Joel at Jules.
For the story behind this riotous explosion of joys, please visit part oneand part twoof JAZZ LIVES’ exclusive multi-media coverage, where I posted all of The Microscopic Septet’s set. Very little could follow Dave Sewelson’s passionate singing of I GOT A RIGHT TO CRY, but saxophonist-visionary Phillip Johnston did not want us to go out into the snowy night feeling lachrymose.
He’d asked members of the other two bands, the Jazz Passengers and the Kamikaze Ground Crew, to hang around for the finale if they felt like it (and no one wanted to miss anything the Microscopic Septet was playing) so at the end, he assembled a giant “JATP-style” jam session on a blues in F he’d written, DON’T MIND IF I DO, for the three bands.
It was clear that if everyone took even twenty-four bars apiece, we would be at the Kitchen well past closing time, so the musicians quickly arranged to play solos in tandem, trade choruses or parts of choruses — a heartwarming reminder that improvisation is more than simply playing one’s instrument, and a delightful reminder of the great players of the Thirties and Forties who could create a whole short story in eight bars.
Here’s the result, first a few minutes of jovial rustling-around, which I think is priceless, then ten minutes of rocking cheerful collective improvisation:
and a lovely postscript, an appreciative review by “TG” in THE NEW YORK JAZZ RECORD:
What a gift to everyone at The Kitchen, which (with the permission of the three bands) I am now able to share with you.
Here’s Part Two of that glorious evening at The Kitchen in New York’s Greenwich Village with the Microscopic Septet and friends. Part One, for those who want to review their notes (and the Septet’s) is here. But here’s the personnel for those who, like me, need to know the names of our heroes: Joel Forrester, piano, composer, co-leader; Phillip Johnston, alto and soprano saxophone, composer, co-leader; Dave Hofstra, string bass; Richard Dworkin, drums; Dave Sewelson, baritone saxophone and vocal on CRY; Michael Hashim, tenor saxophone, Don Davis, alto saxophone. Incidentally, for some listeners who like their jazz only one or two ways, the Micros may sound “avant-garde.” I urge them to listen: this band loves the blues and has its own ferocious swing. They seem to me to be taking traditional forms and approaching them with loving zealous individualities.
The Microscopic Septet, if they are new to you, is a long-lived improvising ensemble — devoted to “serious fun,” as my friend John Scurry terms it.
Phillip Johnston’s LET’S COOLERATE ONE:
From The Middle Period, LOBSTER IN THE LIMELIGHT:
If you need directions, just TAKE THE Z TRAIN:
Finally, I GOT A RIGHT TO CRY (vocal Dave Sewelson) — originally performed by Joe Liggins but sounding eerily and happily like a Joel Forrester composition:
The Grand Finale, deserving of initial capitals, where the Micros, the Jazz Passengers, and the Kamikaze Ground Crew, jammed on DON’T MIND IF I DO, will appear in the last post of this series. Look for it wherever better blogposts and videos are given away for free.
Extra! This post is in celebration of Micros co-leader Phillip Johnston, who yesterday won the 2017 Johnny Dennis Music Award:
The 2017 winner of the Johnny Dennis Music Award, which acknowledges great achievement in Australian music composition, is composer/performer Phillip Johnston.
Outgoing Australian Guild of Screen Composers’ President, Guy Gross, said “The AGSC Board were delighted with the choice of Phillip Johnston as the 2017 recipient of this major award which carries a cash prize of $20,000.”
“This award gives the recipient the creative and financial freedom to work on a project of their choice. The project chosen by Phillip Johnston will expand the knowledge and understanding of the history of the Australian film industry, both in Australia and internationally, as well as create new and innovative fusions of film and music.”
The JD Awards were established in perpetuity through the will of Dennis John Mole, whose stage name was Johnny Dennis.
Phillip Johnston’s winning proposal was to conduct research at the National Film and Sound Archive with the purpose of creating new original scores for historical Australian silent films that would help to make the films accessible to modern audiences.
On receiving the Award Phillip Johnston stated “Receiving the Johnny Dennis Award will support my new original scores for silent film project, which involves both research into the rich history of Australian silent film and the creation of new musical scores to be performed live with the films.”
“After 25 years of composing and performing new scores for American, European and Japanese silent films worldwide, I’m very excited about turning my attention to a new exciting project combining two of my major interests: new relationships between music and film, and Australia’s great contribution to world film history.”
For me, 2017 has been a year of wonderful music, meeting and hearing Nancy Harrow, interviewing Dan Morgenstern, and more. The “more” includes hearing and recording The Microscopic Septet twice.
I know I am late to the festivities, since the Micros have been changing the world one song at a time for more than thirty years, but I am certainly enjoying them.
The facts, or what they resemble: the Micros are co-led by pianist / composer Joel Forrester and saxophonist / composer Phillip Johnston. The five other nobles in the crew are Richard Dworkin, drums; Dave Hofstra, string bass; Dave Sewelson, baritone saxophone and vocal; Michael Hashim, tenor saxophone; Don Davis, alto saxophone. They make uplifting, always surprising music.
The first time I had the pleasure was on June 6, at the Astor Room in Astoria, New York, and the results are hereand here, gloriously.
Six months later, I very happily found myself in a reserved seat in the front row of The Kitchen at 512 West 19th Street in the West Village of New York City, waiting for the music to begin. Phillip had gathered the Micros and two other bands from the same time and place — the Jazz Passengers and the Kamikaze Ground Crew, for what he called FOREVER WEIRD.
At times, the music was weird, but in the most friendly ways. To attempt to “interpret” it would be an impudence both to the musicians and this audience. I will indulge myself in only one metaphor: imagine a train rhythmically moving through a constantly shifting multi-colored landscape, changing, morphing, returning. Just as we’ve gotten comfortable with the purple stalactites outside the window, they are replaced with three (not four) upholstered kitchen chairs. And we are happy.
Not knowing the two other bands, I did not video-record them (although we might get to see the finale, when everyone gathered onstage and played DON’T MIND IF I DO — in a future post) but I devotedly captured the Micros. The premise of their hour-long set was a quick retrospective through their collective history — too rich to compress into eight performances, but what a satisfying jaunt. Here are the first four:
Phillip’s A STRANGE THOUGHT ENTERED MY HEAD:
LIEUTENANT CASSOWARY, by Joel:
Joel’s SECOND AVENUE:
A “seasonal favorite” for the “generic holiday season,” recomposed by Joel:
The second half will come soon. I know this offering is but a fraction — one-half of the closing third, but it’s a very rewarding sixth.
Thanks to Phillip Johnston, Don Davis, Dave Sewelson, Michael Hashim, Richard Dworkin, Joel Forrester, Dave Hofstra, and to the kind people at The Kitchen, who couldn’t have been more welcoming.
“I’m Joel, and these are my tunes,” is the way pianist-composer-bandleader Joel Forrester might announce himself at the start of an evening.
JOEL FORRESTER, photograph by Metin Oner
He isn’t pugnacious in the way some musicians are, who assertively say that they are going to play their compositions all night long. No, Joel says it quietly, mixing a wry offhandedness with just a touch of pride. “Here are my children, and I like them myself, but you needn’t. However, no substitutions are allowed, no ordering off the aesthetic menu.” His quiet statement tells us that the pianist and the composer really occupy the same space, seamlessly mingled.
I was at one of Joel’s gigs where a woman — pleasantly but forcefully — told Joel that she wanted to hear him play TAKE THE “A” TRAIN. Joel politely said no, and the woman, undeterred, pressed: didn’t he know it? Joel played the first few bars of the famous introduction to show that his was a choice, not an inadequacy, and then politely explained to the listener that one of the reasons he had this particular gig was that he wouldn’t be obligated to play “A” TRAIN. I don’t think the woman understood the distinction, but she stopped interrogating the pianist-composer.
Here are several of Joel’s “tunes” — more than that to my ears — as he performed them on August 3, 2017, at Cleopatra’s Needle, which occupies its own original space around Broadway and 95th Street. The Players are Michi Fuji, violin; Michael Irwin, trumpet; Dave Hofstra, string bass; Matt Garrity, drums. In form and in performance, Joel’s creations don’t contain cliches, nor do they inspire them.
Incidentally, a serious Joel-alert: he will be at Cleo’s on Thursday, October 19, 7-11, with bassist Hofstra and drummer Garrity, with Irwin coming by and even tenor saxophonist Vito Dieterle. I will be sans camera for once, I think, so you will have to make the scene on your own.
But back to the August revelry and reverie, with three selections: KIRSTEN’S NEW MAMBO, YOUR MOVE, and a melding of FLIP FLOP and a very slow NO QUESTION. This is music you could pensively, happily get lost in. I’ve retained Joel’s banter with the audience because it is part of the presentation, verbal preludes to the music.
A mambo (when was the last time you heard one) for the mysteriously inspiring Kirsten. Explication du texte from Joel:
K’S NEW MAMBO, written for the Chicago wedding of my son’s best friend, caused Henny Youngman to exclaim, “Forrester, you got a hit on yer hands!” forgetting that he’d said that about an earlier tune of mine.
and a tune featuring Michi Fuji, YOUR MOVE. Of this performance, Joel says, “Michi Fuji really hears it!”
A set-closing combination, FLIP FLOP, featuring Dave Hofstra, and Joel’s “break tune,” performed with new slowness, NO QUESTION.
FLIP FLOP arose out of a high school desire to pen a tune like OLEO or BILLIE’S BOUNCE: i.e., one that bites its own tail. NO QUESTION has long been my break tune. It was dedicated to David Sutter of the band Fish ‘n’ Roses (and Creed Taylor’s biographer). Denis Charles used to tell people, “It’s a riff on Monk’s ‘Rhythm-changes.” As indeed it is:
Not the usual, and I am among others who celebrate that. And I hope to see the Faithful at Cleopatra’s Needle on the 19th.
Some more music from my hero Joel Forrester, captured live at Cleopatra’s Needle on August 3, 2017, which is the THEN of the title. Joel brought with him Vito Dieterle, tenor saxophone; Dave Hofstra, string bass; Matt Garrity, drums (and other noble participants, their identities to be revealed in future JAZZ LIVES’ posts).
Two selections struck me most strongly as wordless evocations of tenderness, overlaid with grief. The first, YOUR LITTLE DOG, Joel’s elegy for a beloved pet, is incomplete: I arrived late to this Musical Offering and the quartet was taking its leisurely melancholy route through this composition, one of Joel’s that is most dear to me. Here is the closing minute. I wish I’d arrived earlier, but this minute-plus remains emotionally powerful:
Later in the evening, Joel and the quartet offered a slow ballad, ABOUT FRANCOISE, which has much of the same mood:
I’ve lingered over these two performances because they present a sound, a mood, a tempo that I don’t always encounter, in a world where some musicians feel pressured to be brighter, quicker, more attention-getting. Joel and friends know that music that mourns can also elate and uplift, and I hope you feel those emotions here.
That was THEN, as they say. The NOW is, of course, the minutes you are spending absorbing the sounds.
SOON is not yet here as I write this, but it will come . . . you know the rest.
Joel, Vito, and Dave have a new trio gig in Riverdale, New York, this coming Sunday, which is September 10, from 3 to 7 PM, at MON AMOUR, a coffee-and-wine cafe at 234 West 238th Street, two doors to the east of Broadway. Take the #1 train to 238 (its penultimate station stop) and you are THERE. No cover or music charge.
And Joel has promised me a full version of YOUR LITTLE DOG for my camera and my audience. You could spend Sunday afternoon searching for your autumn-winter wardrobe, but that can wait a few days.
Something relevant and perhaps not coincidental: I am reading with great pleasure OPEN CITY, the 2011 debut novel by Teju Cole — the book a gift from tenor saxophonist Sam Taylor, and after beginning this blog, I had to leave my computer but could take the book with me. The narrator says, early on, of a younger friend in his neighborhood, “My friend was especially passionate about jazz. Most of the names and styles that he so delighted in meant little to me (there are apparently number of great jazz musicians from the sixties and seventies with the last name Jones). But I could sense, even from my ignorant distance, the sophistication of his ear. He often said that he would sit down at a piano someday and show me how jazz worked, and that when I finally understood blue notes and swung notes, the heavens would part and my life would be transformed. I more than half believed him . . . ” (24-25).
One of the happinesses of 2017 has been reconnecting with the singularly multi-talented Joel Forrester: piano, compositions, arrangements, thoughts, and feelings. I’ve been changed by his music, and I don’t write those words casually. It’s serious and playful, sorrowful and hilarious all at once.
JOEL FORRESTER, photograph by Metin Oner
I was happy to be on the scene for another appearance by Joel’s quintet — this time at Silvana, oat 300 West 116th Street in New York City, on July 24. Along with Joel, the quintet is old friends Dave Hofstra, string bass; Matt Garrity, drums; Michi Fuji, violin; Michael Irwin, trumpet. No cliches, no trickery. Just deep feelings and deep improvisations in an hour-long set that felt rich and spacious . . . and filling: I didn’t want to hear any more music that night.
DON’T ASK ME NOW:
FINDING MY WAY BACK HOME:
SOME THINGS DON’T WORK OUT:
SOLDIERS IN THE ARMY (the rhythm section only, but joined by the enthusiastic audience):
AFTER YOU, JOEL:
SILENT NIGHT BLUES:
FLIP-FLOP:
You’ll notice I wrote “another”: my first encounter with the Five was at the Shrine, also in Harlem, on July 17, captured here. Since the Five performed a few of the same tunes at both gigs, you can compare and contrast. Comparison is said to be odious, but not with this small expansive traveling orchestra.
Hereis the first set of the Microscopic Septet’s performance at the Astor Room on June 6.
What follows might seem self-indulgent (the reference is back to me, not the band) but here is what I wrote for that first post. I don’t think the Micros are as widely admired as they should be, and although Milton’s “Fit audience, though few,” still is true to me, I’d like to extend the circle of admirers just a little . . . through words as well as videos.
Had you told me, several decades ago, when the Microscopic Septet came, gently ferocious, out of the speakers of my stereo system, that I would be spending a June night in 2017, sitting in front of them with a video camera, I would have said it was cruel to tease me. But it happened. And to me, it’s one of the half-dozen accomplishments of this blog-endeavor I’m most proud of.
A brief digression. I’m coming to the realization that most categorization has nothing to do with the subject. Of course, at the farmers’ market, it is useful for the purchaser to know what kind of kale or apple or cucumber that unlabeled beauty is, because the purchaser might have certain tastes. But music is thankfully more expansive than the space between the Ida Red and the Jonagold. So those jazz listeners who wish to debate whether their favorite band plays postmodern-New Orleans-Second Line-funk OR you could call it retro-modern-Creole-trad are encouraged to go outside and play, if the weather is nice.
I confess that I, too, have fallen into the categorizing urge (or is it prison?) now and again, and I even did it for one moment with the Micros, when I whimsically categorized their music to Joel Forrester (to whom I apologize) as “super-intellectual-rhythm and blues,” and the politely pained look that crossed his face as he said, “Well, I don’t know,” was the look you give to a dear friend or relative who has just said something quite surprisingly foolish. So I gave that up and simply revel in the music: its energy, its surprising twists, its rollicking momentum, its dramatic shapes, its tender musing sadness. They are too large and luscious to fit in any Facebook group, and that’s something to celebrate. (Incidentally, I hope any readers who might get scared away by “modernism” give the Micros an attentive few minutes. They’re not “the Dixielanderini,” but they certainly swing.)
I apologize for the brutality of the image that follows, but when someone asked William Carlos Williams why he didn’t write sonnets, he said, “Forcing twentieth-century America into a sonnet–gosh, how I hate sonnets–is like putting a crab into a square box. You’ve got to cut his legs off to make him fit. When you get through you don’t have a crab anymore.”
The Microscopic Septet plays within forms — the blues, other people’s compositions — but they also extend and stretch those forms, with ingenuity and love, so that no metaphysical animals are harmed.
For this New York gig, the Micros are Phillip Johnston, soprano saxophone and articulate announcements; Don Davis, alto saxophone; Mike Hashim, tenor saxophone; Dave Sewelson, baritone saxophone and vocal; Joel Forrester, piano; Dave Hofstra, string bass; Richard Dworkin, drums.
Here’s the first set of their evening at the Astor Room. By choice, I sat as close as I could without joining the band, so occasionally the players on either end are bisected or in the dark, but I trust that the closeness of the sound recording makes up for this.
Now, here is the second set (I’d moved back several feet, so all the players should appear in the video as they do in life).
CAT TOYS:
DARK BLUE:
LOBSTER IN THE LIMELIGHT:
PANNONICA:
LITTLE BOBBY:
STAR TURN:
WHEN YOU GET IN OVER YOUR HEAD:
WHEN IT’S GETTING DARK:
I’VE GOT A RIGHT TO CRY, with vocal chorus by Dave Sewelson:
Rushing time away is never a good thing, but I hope the Micros visit New York again — soon — if not sooner.
This post isn’t about painting or poetry, but about music that — in its own ways — enacts what those other arts do.
I SAW THE FIGURE FIVE IN GOLD, painting by Charles Demuth, in tribute to William Carlos Williams’ poem
I’m referring to the music created by the Joel Forrester Five at the Shrine in New York City on June 29, 2017. The Five is Joel, piano and compositions; Michi Fuji, violin; Michael Irwin, trumpet; Dave Hofstra, string bass; Matthew Garrity, drums. I encourage you to enter in to the world of the Five, the bubbling of their collective imaginations.
DON’T ASK ME NOW:
SOME THINGS DON’T WORK OUT (a grieving masterpiece):
AFTER YOU, JOEL:
YOUR MOVE:
ABOUT FRANCOISE:
WITHOUT HER:
SILENT NIGHT BLUES:
FLIP-FLOP:
If you missed this afternoon concert, do not fret; you can see and hear the Five on July 24 for another uptown gig. And an hour with the Five can be more (ful)filling than longer gigs with other ensembles.
I’ll let Joel explain it all in jocular style:
Monday July 24th is special! My new quintet, the JOEL FORRESTER FIVE, will play a ONE-HOUR gig, 6-7 pm, in a Central Harlem bar. …You say: we did that LAST week. Well, yes, we did; but this is a DIFFERENT bar. It’s call SILVANA (not to be confused with a 50s make of tv), 300 W.116th St. at Frederick Douglass Blvd. Take the C train to 116th. I just like playing with these folk in ANY circumstances: Mike Irwin on trumpet and Michi Fuji on violin. And SILVANA is a jolly joint. [I recall that a close friend who’s an animator became himself quite animated when a Forrester band last played SILVANA, two years in arrears.]
Had you told me, several decades ago, when the Microscopic Septet came, gently ferocious, out of the speakers of my stereo system, that I would be spending a June night in 2017, sitting in front of them with a video camera, I would have said it was cruel to tease me. But it happened. And to me, it’s one of the half-dozen accomplishments of this blog-endeavor I’m most proud of.
A brief digression. I’m coming to the realization that most categorization has nothing to do with the subject. Of course, at the farmers’ market, it is useful for the purchaser to know what kind of kale or apple or cucumber that unlabeled beauty is, because the purchaser might have certain tastes. But music is thankfully more expansive than the space between the Ida Red and the Jonagold. So those jazz listeners who wish to debate whether their favorite band plays postmodern-New Orleans-Second Line-funk OR you could call it retro-modern-Creole-trad are encouraged to go outside and play, if the weather is nice.
I confess that I, too, have fallen into the categorizing urge (or is it prison?) now and again, and I even did it for one moment with the Micros, when I whimsically categorized their music to Joel Forrester (to whom I apologize) as “super-intellectual-rhythm and blues,” and the politely pained look that crossed his face as he said, “Well, I don’t know,” was the look you give to a dear friend or relative who has just said something quite surprisingly foolish. So I gave that up and simply revel in the music: its energy, its surprising twists, its rollicking momentum, its dramatic shapes, its tender musing sadness. They are too large and luscious to fit in any Facebook group, and that’s something to celebrate. (Incidentally, I hope any readers who might get scared away by “modernism” give the Micros an attentive few minutes. They’re not “the Dixielanderini,” but they certainly swing.)
I apologize for the brutality of the image that follows, but when someone asked William Carlos Williams why he didn’t write sonnets, he said, “Forcing twentieth-century America into a sonnet–gosh, how I hate sonnets–is like putting a crab into a square box. You’ve got to cut his legs off to make him fit. When you get through you don’t have a crab anymore.”
The Microscopic Septet plays within forms — the blues, other people’s compositions — but they also extend and stretch those forms, with ingenuity and love, so that no metaphysical animals are harmed.
For this New York gig, the Micros are Phillip Johnston, soprano saxophone and articulate announcements; Don Davis, alto saxophone; Mike Hashim, tenor saxophone; Dave Sewelson, baritone saxophone and vocal; Joel Forrester, piano; Dave Hofstra, string bass; Richard Dworkin, drums.
Here’s the first set of their evening at the Astor Room. By choice, I sat as close as I could without joining the band, so occasionally the players on either end are bisected or in the dark, but I trust that the closeness of the sound recording makes up for this.
MANHATTAN MOONRISE:
LET’S COOLERATE ONE:
WE SEE:
MIGRAINE BLUES:
TWELVE ANGRY BIRDS:
BRILLIANT CORNERS:
HANG IT ON A LINE:
Thrilling, no? Also lyrical, pensive, multi-textured, raw, hilarious, moving . . . you can fill in your own praises.
In W.B. Yeats’s poem “In Memory of Major Robert Gregory,” a memorial for Lady Gregory’s son who had died in the First World War, these lines appear: Always we’d have the new friend meet the old / And we are hurt if either friend seem cold.”
I’ve been following the quietly explosive creator Ray Skjelbred for some time now, always shaking my head in silent admiration at the dynamic worlds he manifests at the keyboard and elsewhere.
So when I began to have friendly conversations with another man of large imagination, pianist / composer Joel Forrester, I talked with him about “eccentric” pianists I thought he would enjoy. We shared a love of Joe Sullivan, so I felt comfortable speaking with Joel of Frank Melrose, Alex Hill, Cassino Simpson, Russ Gilman, and a few others.
When this video (captured by RaeAnn Berry on June 24, 2017 at the 27th Annual America’s Classic Jazz Festival in Lacey, Washington) of Ray playing Alex Hill’s composition (most thoroughly inhabited by Louis Armstrong and Earl Hines) BEAU KOO JACK, I sent it to Joel to see what he thought.
His reaction was perfect.
Terrific! Utterly surprising!
Here it is:
Blessings on Ray and Joel, on RaeAnn too. On Alex Hill and Louis and Earl. And on every viewer and listener who’s in the spirit. And even those who aren’t.
I hope that the imposing but warm figure in the portrait below is becoming known to JAZZ LIVES’ readers. That’s Joel Forrester, pianist / composer / arranger / bandleader / occasional vocalist.
JOEL FORRESTER, photograph by Metin Oner
I’ve been making regular pilgrimages to Forrester-shrines (find out for yourself here): most regularly his Saturday-afternoon performance at Cafe Loup on Thirteenth Street near Sixth Avenue, 12:30 – 3:30. That place has the friendly coziness (and none of the dust and clutter) of my living room — thanks to Byron and Sally, thanks to the careful people in the kitchen, and thanks to Joel.
In between sets, sometimes Joel and I talk about people, and music, and literature . . . which might have made me — not all that whimsically — characterize each performance of his as a wordless short story. He is a writer, by the way. But that metaphor came to seem a little too pretentious for me, and on the way home from this Saturday afternoon’s recital-with-friends, I thought, “Postcards. That’s it.” It has occurred to me more than once that Joel starts out on a journey of his own each time he begins to play, whether the material is his or not, and thus I could see individual improvisations as brightly-colored souvenirs from the Land of Boogie-Woogie, the visit to the Country of Cheesy Fifties Pop Tunes that have real music embedded in them, Joel and Mary’s visit to Paris, his homage to Fate Marable’s riverboat music as heard by Meade Lux Lewis, and so on.
I offer five more such delights from Joel’s recital of June 3, at Cafe Loup.
A lightly swinging blues, SWEET AMNESIA:
Soundtrack music for a short film about improvised dance, LUNACY:
Proper Kerning, CAN’T HELP LOVIN’ THAT MAN:
A visit to Fats Domino, I WANT TO WALK YOU HOME:
Gershwin and W.C. Handy play gin rummy, SUMMERTIME:
I encourage the musically-minded to come visit Joel at Cafe Loup, but something quite rare and unusual is happening later this week: the Joel Forrester Five is playing a one-hour gig on Thursday, June 29 — from 6-7 PM at The Shrine (2271 Seventh Avenue between West 133 and 134th Streets. The Five is (are?) Joel, piano, compositions; Michi Fuji, violin; Michael Irwin, trumpet; David Hofstra, string bass; Matthew Garrity, drums. (It’s the 2 or 3 train to 135th Street.) I’ve never heard this band before, and I look forward to this gig.
I now have another regular Saturday-afternoon gig to go to, which for me is no small thing. Every Saturday afternoon from noon to after 3:30 (the music begins at 12:30) I’ve been at Cafe Loup, 105 West Thirteenth Street, near Sixth Avenue, to get a good seat for the solo piano recital of Joel Forrester, one of the most consistently imaginative — often playfully so — artists I have ever heard and witnessed in person. What I offer here is the last set (only four performances) of Joel’s offering of May 27, 2017. And here are videos and commentary about the first two sets. And for those of you who are unfamiliar with Joel’s work, this should remedy that deficiency easily.
JOEL FORRESTER, photograph by Metin Oner
Joel’s compositions, his approach to standard material — all of his music is as far from formulaic as one could imagine. He knows the tradition, and it’s not simply “the jazz tradition,” “the bebop tradition,” or “the jazz piano tradition,” and the breadth of his knowledge and his affection for all kinds of melodic music, subtle and powerful, bubbles through every performance. So here are four more:
His original, SERENADE, in honor of a now-defunct club of the same name:
Another original, I WONDER, that begins as if the ghost of Tatum had beguined into the room for a few minutes, then transforms into a swirling dance:
A respectfully quirky reading of Monk’s WELL, YOU NEEDN’T:
and finally, the Beatles’ YESTERDAY, the soundtrack of my early teens:
Gigs do not last forever, as we all know. If you’re in the vicinity of Cafe Loup on a Saturday afternoon and you don’t get a chance to witness what Joel is doing, you’re missing the Acme Fast Freight, to quote Mildred Bailey. That’s an unsubtle admonition or is it a solicitation? — but true nevertheless.
JAZZ LIVES 