Tag Archives: Matt Munisteri

A SUMMER NIGHT, EIGHT YEARS AGO (June 7, 2009)

Good times, fine sounds.  the calendar says they’re gone; we know they aren’t.

The Ear Inn has been host to gatherings of joyous insight on Sunday nights since July 2007, and I think I was there for the second gathering of The EarRegulars — who may not have been named just yet (Jon-Erik Kellso, Howard Alden, Frank Tate): I was converted rapidly, although going to work with an early teaching schedule has made me at times a lax postulant.

Here’s a delightful interlude from the summer of 2009: SOME OF THESE DAYS, played so buoyantly by Matt Munisteri, guitar; Duke Heitger, trumpet; Harvey Tibbs, trombone; Dan Block, clarinet; Neal Miner, string bass.  And the final minutes of this — with Duke evoking another New Orleans boy who made good — give me chills of the best sort:

You don’t need to climb the Himalayas for spiritual uplift: visit the Ear Inn on Sunday nights; your pilgrimage requires only the C or the 1 train or perhaps an automobile . . . see you there sometime soon!  In the interim, watch, hear, and marvel.

May your happiness increase

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THE WORLD IS MAD

Count Basie and his Orchestra recorded this fast blues, two sides of a 78, on August 8, 1940.  They had good reasons for that title: look up the date in a history of the Second World War and you bang into the Luftwaffe and the Battle of Britain, its thirtieth day.

And if you’d want other evidence of cosmic distress, Johnny Dodds died on that day, age 48.  (How come no one writes about him as short-lived, one of jazz’s early deaths?)

But here’s Basie.

Part One, with that glorious rhythm section, Buddy Tate, the trombone section featuring the under-featured Vic Dickenson, the saxophone section leading in to Lester Young (with Jo Jones commenting behind him):

Part Two (with apologies for the intrusive advertisement) with a little more Lester, Walter Page and that rhythm section, then riffing alongside a very explicit Jo Jones, more from Walter, Lester out in the open over stop-time chords, trumpet section hosannas, more Jo . . . . and a s low-motion ending:

I write this post — oddly enough — with only a tangential although reverent nod to Basie.  If you are a sentient informed adult, you might think at many points during your day that, yes, the world IS mad.  If you think everything is just peachy, I envy you your sweet oblivion.

For me, Basie’s title is correct but one consonant is off.  I propose, rather, THE WORLD IS SAD.  Thanks to Matt Munisteri, I read this article this morning:

https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2017/09/has-the-smartphone-destroyed-a-generation/534198/?utm_source=nextdraft&utm_medium=email

It is terrible, and terribly worth reading.  The answer to the rhetorical question posed by the title is YES.  Now, it would be easy to shake our heads at “those dopey kids and their phones,” and since I have taught 17-21 year olds for decades, I know the difference between THEN (pre-phone) and NOW — the article says that 2012 was the tipping point, when more than fifty percent owned a smartphone.  I see the manifestations as attention deficit disorder, inability to concentrate, unwillingness to have what we used to think of as normal social contact (i.e., speaking to the person next to you), a world shrunk down into a tiny bright screen.  What the article says that is new and saddening is that the young people who are addicted to their phones are not only socially crippled and terminally insular, but that they are depressed and world-weary: weary of a world they don’t care to engage in.

And I see the manifestations in my generation: the couple at dinner who are silently staring into their phones; the couple I once saw on the subway, all snuggly, she half-asleep on her handsome Beau, who took the opportunity to scroll down and see what had happened in the four minutes he’s been away.

I wonder where this willful isolation will lead us as a culture.  The smartphone world is the complete antithesis to dancing to Basie, listening to Basie on the radio, playing your new Vocalion 78 for your pals, or even (heaven forbid) learning a musical instrument and starting a band.

At one point, when cellphones were new, I said whimsically to a friend that I wanted them to be prohibitively expensive, with certain exceptions: you could call and say, “I’m going to be late,” “I miss you,” “I love you,” “Is there anything you wanted me to pick up on the way home,” “You don’t sound right.  Is everything OK?” — those calls would be free OR the provider would pay you for making them.  Now I think that my whimsy was too tame.  I’d like to see people’s smartphones self-destruct if they took them out in the middle of a conversation. I’d like to see smartphone use socially relegated to private places, in the same way that flatulence, onanism, and inside-the-nose interior decorating are (among those who have some tact).

It won’t happen, but now when I go back to teaching in September, I will get to add another toxic side-effect to the smartphone’s power, not just boredom, inertia, narrowness — but despair.  Who would have thought?

I’m a relic, so I seek the company of other people rather than my phone.  Human contact — with the right people — is my joy.  But don’t tell anyone.  I don’t want the authorities to arrest me for rampant archaism.

May your happiness increase!

THE SUPERMOON IS GONE. THE GLOW REMAINS.

In the middle of November 2016, we were closer to the moon than we had been since 1948 . . . and we won’t be this close again for a long time, making that huge orb in the sky something to remember.  I hope my readers were able to glance up, whether through their windows or, better, being out in the mystical moist night air, to see this wonder for themselves.  Here is a shot of a Supermoon over Rio de Janeiro.

super-moon-3

The Supermoon made me think of all the music and poetry associated with lunar ecstasies, all the love songs: GET OUT AND GET UNDER THE MOON, MOON SONG, WHEN THE MOON COMES OVER THE MOUNTAIN, MOONLIGHT BECOMES YOU — a very long list.  We love the moon because she is mutable, that is, ever changing, and she reminds us to cling to what brings us joy, because we know that it’s all rapidly moving towards us and away and towards us again. And a phenomenon like the Supermoon reminds us, I hope, of the possibility of joy in our lives.

Of course this post is based in a memorable performance of a memorable song. But first, a four-bar prelude.

Video fetishists, with long lenses and wide-open apertures, will find what follows visually inferior to my best work. I bought my first video camera (a treacherous Sony with many whims) in 2008, and started bringing it to gigs soon after. That camera was not the most sophisticated, so both image and sound are slightly dull.

But not the music, which has an on-the-spot compositional beauty.

Sunday night at The Ear Inn — where the great lunar worshippers gather — with The EarRegulars: Jon-Erik Kellso, trumpet; Matt Munisteri, guitar; Neal Miner, string bass; Duke Heitger, trumpet; guests Tamar Korn, vocal; Dan Block, clarinet; Harvey Tibbs, trombone.

“I’ll always remember / That Moonglow gave me you.”  What could be nicer?

May your happiness increase!

THE GOLDEN AGE IS HERE AND NOW (PART TWO): JON-ERIK KELLSO, SCOTT ROBINSON, MATT MUNISTERI, GREG COHEN at THE EAR INN (May 15, 2016)

EAR INN sign

I was at The Ear Inn last Sunday night, delighting in the sounds so generously offered by The EarRegulars.  So it seems the most natural thing to share with you the second half of my post on the beauty laid before us on May 15, 2016, and its implications for people devoted to that beautiful phenomenon, jazz as created by living musicians in front of an appreciative audience.

In that post, you’ll hear two glorious performances by Jon-Erik Kellso, trumpet; Scott Robinson, tenor saxophone, octavin, bass taragoto; Matt Munisteri, guitar; Greg Cohen, string bass.

Here are two more extended musical journeys — with a small travelogue by Scott Robinson about his unusual instruments in the middle.

Mister Morton’s WOLVERINE BLUES, beautifully presented. Pay close attention to the closing minutes, where the gentlemen of the ensemble add some wonderfully surrealistic ornamentation to the familiar themes.  At the close, you’ll hear an excited voice adding an unexpurgated affirmation: that’s the young reed wizard Evan Arntzen, seated to my right at the bar:

That deserves more than one viewing / hearing.  And I agree with Evan.

Scott Robinson is always asked about his magical musical implements, and this time I captured his words and gestures on video:

And, finally, the wistful question, DO YOU EVER THINK OF ME? — served hot:

I think that what the EarRegulars (and many other noble strivers) create is life-enhancing.  But without getting too didactic, such beauty deserves and needs our tender care, which takes the shape of active participation and personal support. You know how to do that.

May your happiness increase!

THE GOLDEN AGE IS HERE AND NOW (PART ONE): JON-ERIK KELLSO, SCOTT ROBINSON, MATT MUNISTERI, GREG COHEN at THE EAR INN (May 15, 2016)

EAR INN signMany people devoted to certain art forms are afflicted with incurable nostalgia. “What wouldn’t I give to hear Henrietta McGillicuddy play the blues on her Eb alto horn?  They say she could play a whole year without repeating herself!” And it doesn’t limit itself to jazz.  “Oh, yeah?  Pergolesi could kick your guy’s ass! And on a bad day Stuart Davis was better than anything now hanging in MOMA.”

I could go on, and possibly I already have.

But I remember a refrigerator magnet I saw in the very early Eighties, that had these words on it:

TIME TO BE HAPPY

Sage advice.  I understand the deep longing to hear one more note of Bix, of Bird, of Billie — to time-travel back to hear Louis in 1929 or Blanton with Jeter-Pillars.  But while some are busily dreaming of such things (I think of Miniver Cheevy with his collection of Black Swan acetates), the present is both glowing and going.  As in going away.

So I am always urging the people who love this art form to enjoy what is happening in the present moment rather than licking the dust off the statues. A hundred years from today, should we survive as a species, I suspect that cultural historians will be writing about the Golden Age of the early twenty-first century. And if they aren’t, they will be ignoring some irreplaceably precious evidence.

Here are two glorious examples (with two more to come) of the superb art that is happening now.  The artists are Matt Munisteri, guitar; Scott Robinson, tenor saxophone and unusual reeds; Jon-Erik Kellso, trumpet; Greg Cohen, string bass — recorded just this month at the Soho Savoy, The Ear Inn (326 Spring Street, New York City) at one of the regular Sunday-night epiphanies from about eight to about eleven PM.

WHEN I  GROW TOO OLD TO DREAM:

 

A “peppy” LOUISIANA:

Yes, we could all sit at home and play our records.  But beauty, completely satisfying, is happening all around us.

May your happiness increase!

“WOULD YOU CARE TO SWING?” (Part Three): JON-ERIK KELLSO, SCOTT ROBINSON, MATT MUNISTERI, PAT O’LEARY, and ELDAR TSALIKOV at THE EAR INN (March 20, 2016)

It was a truly glorious evening of musical camaraderie at The Ear Inn (326 Spring Street, Soho, New York City) but that’s completely typical of what happens when the  EarRegulars get together on Sunday nights from around eight to around eleven.

EAR INN 2012

Here and here are wonderful highlights from earlier in the evening — marvels created by Jon-Erik Kellso, trumpet; Scott Robinson, tenor saxophone and mellophone; Matt Munisteri, guitar; Pat O’Leary, string bass.  I call them “marvels” with complete confidence: listen closely to the inspired conversations that take place in each performance (this is a listening band), the sonic variety — each player making his instrument speak with a wholly personal voice — the melodic inventiveness, the wit and tenderness, and the swing.

For the closing three performances, Scott Robinson also brought out his rare Albert system “C” clarinet with the Picou bell — rarity upon rarity (Clint Baker owns one — it was Tom Sharpsteen’s — and Alan Cooper handmade his, but how many others are there on the planet?) which has a lovely persuasive sound.  And the young Russian reed wizard Eldar Tsalikov spent his last evening of his New York trip, happily, here, playing alto saxophone and clarinet.

For Lester and Buck and the Kansas City Six — in some subliminal ways — a romping ‘WAY DOWN YONDER IN NEW ORLEANS with some of the same lightness:

For Herschel, Lester, and the Decca Basie band, BLUE AND SENTIMENTAL*:

And for pure fun, IT’S BEEN SO LONG:

Lovely, fully satisfying inventiveness.  Every Sunday night at about eight.

Two footnotes.  One (*) is a small mystery that so far I haven’t found an answer to.  When Herschel Evans died in 1939, he was not yet thirty.  And somewhere I have read that he was married and that his wife was around the same age.  What happened to Mrs. Evans?

Two.  Some viewers comment acidly (here and YouTube) that people in the audience are talking. But to rage in print at people on a video seems ineffective. I delete these comments, because there’s enough anger in the world as it is.

I hear the chatter, too, but I am grateful for the music, no matter what is happening around it.  As an analogy, I think of someone finding an unissued Louis test pressing and then being furious because the disc has surface noise. “People will talk,” as the expression goes.  Accept what you can’t change, and bring your silently appreciative self to a jazz club to reset the balance.

May your happiness increase!

“WOULD YOU CARE TO SWING?” (Part Two): JON-ERIK KELLSO, SCOTT ROBINSON, MATT MUNISTERI, PAT O’LEARY at THE EAR INN (March 20, 2016)

Through the generosity of the musicians, I present some more glorious music created and recorded at The Ear Inn just this month, on March 20, 2016.  And for those who missed the first helping, here it is: swing happiness with great feeling created by Jon-Erik Kellso, trumpet; Scott Robinson, tenor saxophone, mellophone, and more; Matt Munisteri, guitar; Pat O’Leary, string bass.

EAR INN 2012

All of this happens when the EarRegulars assemble for one of their Sunday evening raptures (around eight o’clock to around eleven, flexibly) at 326 Spring Street, Soho, New York City.

And I now present two more delights from that evening.  (I was going to call this post THE EGGS AND YOU, but the legal staff was not amused, so I dropped the idea.)

I’M PUTTING ALL MY EGGS IN ONE BASKET is the EarRegulars’ nod to Easter, and to Irving Berlin, and to Fred Astaire, and to Louis (whose 1936 Decca recording of this song also features brightly popping drum accents from Stan King).  No drums here, just floating improvisations:

IF I HAD YOU — very groovy, very mello(w), but also sweet and tender:

There’s more to come.  Bless these musicians and their Spring Street shrine.

May your happiness increase!