1) ART LANDE/MARK MILLER

WORLD WITHOUT CARS

2 SYNERGY SMCD 80005.
Osmogulosis Pleontis/Nella/Ramona/Mavis/Mary Ellen Figment/Tender Feeling Pain/Penance
VI/Cars/Turaluralura/Unknown Whippet/Penance IV/Sous L’Ombre/For Our Fathers/Penance III/Penance
VIII. 53:39.
Lande, p; Miller, ss, as, fl. September 17 and 20, 1996, Wheatridge, Col.
2) CANVAS TRIO
MOMENTS
2 MUSIC & ARTS 999.
Moment 1/ Moment 2/ Moment 3 Moment 4/ Moment 5/ Moment 6/ Moment 7/ Moment 8/ Moment 9/
Moment 10/ Moment 11/ Moment 12/ Moment 13/ Moment 14/ Moment 15/ Moment 16. 54:47.
Joelle Leandre, b; Carlos Zingaro, vln; Rudiger Carl, cl, acc. June 23, 1996, Vancouver.
3) SCOTT FIELDS ENSEMBLE
STEPHEN DEMBSKI’S SONOTROPISM
2 MUSIC & ARTS 1007.
Sonotropism/Miss Notpoor/Prism on Soot/moo, snort, sip. 60:56
Marilyn Crispell, p; Fields, g; Larry Ochs, ss, ts; Matt Turner, cello. October 14 and 17, Madison,
Wisc.
There are various manners of integrating modern, classical (some would say
“European”) and contemporary improvisatory (some would say “American Jazz”)
techniques. These disks represent very different sorts of attempts at such integration. (1)
and (2) are successes of the highest order. (3) ultimately misses this admittedly difficult
goal.
In the end, what makes a great piece of music, written or improvised, is the
unanalyzable property of containing all and only the right sounds at the right times. This
characteristic is beautifully exemplified by (1). Of the 15 pieces, four are fully composed
by Lande, five are partly improvised, five are free improvs, and one is a moment of
silence. One of the five hybrid tunes contains overdubbings of spoken phrase fragments
along with a nifty, two-part canon; another is a dolorous song. (The singer is not
identified.) Each composition, in both its pre-conceived and spontaneous parts is, with
perhaps one exception, a perfect gem. (Miller’s “Cars” may be a hair weaker than
Lande’s wonderful pieces and the duo’s magnificent improvs, but it is still a very good
tune.)
This recording does raise some troubling questions, however: 1. Were Lande and
Miller once Siamese twins, physically (though not psychically) separated in childhood?
There doesn’t seem any other explanation for the way these artists communicate with
such intimacy and consistently anticipate each other’s every move. There’s a kind of
“improvisers’ precognition” that all Jazz players are familiar with. But it’s demonstrated
at the highest level on this disk. It’s quite difficult to tell which pieces were fully
composed and which were freely improvised without checking the liner notes. Miller
can do more than think, though; he can play. His considerable technical skills are
highlighted on the opening of “Penance VI.” But this fact leads to 2. Was this impossible
cadenza really written out?! 3. How many modulations occur in the exquisite “Sous
L’Ombre,” and why do they all work? 4. How did Lande and Miller happen to find a
tune by someone else (“Tender Feeling Pain,” by Khabu Doug Young) that matches their

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work on the rest of the disk for substance, subtlety and beauty? 5. Why does the
apparently crazy idea of a full minute of complete silence (“For Our Fathers”) seem so
eloquent in this context? And, of course, 6. Why aren’t these guys more famous? This is
simply a wonderful recording.
The written-out compositions on “World Without Cars” would fit equally well in
a classical recital format; they are elegant, tightly-constructed chamber works for flute or
sax and piano. But there is also plenty of dazzling Jazz blowing here. The style is
generally polytonal or pantonal, but never ranges far from the austerely beautiful (even
when unsettling or scary). On the other hand, the emotional territory covered is quite
wide -- from Barberesque adagios that may make you want to cry at human mortality, to
some rumbly, disconcerting stuff that makes you feel you may have already fallen among
the undead. Though I mentioned Barber, I hesitate to compare Lande’s writing too
closely to Barber’s (or Rorem’s), because I think Lande is a much more interesting
composer. His pieces are more adventurous and make use of a greater diversity of
rhythmic and harmonic means. But Lande definitely shares the Copland-Barber gift for
aching lyricism. His pieces deserve to be absorbed into the repertoire of classical
conservatories, and this excellent disk should find its way onto the shelves of modern
classical and Jazz enthusiasts alike.
There’s no written music on (2): it’s entirely improvised. So, where’s the
classical influence? First, there’s the finely honed classical technique demonstrated by
each member of the Canvas Trio. Given a free half hour, these guys seem like they could
learn (or sight read) any horrifically difficult Donald Martino or Elliott Carter piece you
threw in front of them. More telling than technique, though, are the sonorities. The most
accessible of these pieces (Moments 6 and 9) derive from the Bartok quartets and
Stravinsky’s “L’histoire.” But they take off from there. There are traces of Ligeti, Cage,
Stockhausen, Boulez, Penderecki, and the rest of that gang on this disk. I’ve criticized
artists in these pages for being too derivative. But that’s not what’s going on here.
While there has clearly been an absorption of many of the styles of the middle and late
20th Century masters, Canvas uses these elements to produce complex, integrated
edifices, gracing each with their personal stamp. Style, of course, always remains less
important than content. Great music can be produced in nearly every imaginable
clothing. And, in the end, as I suggested above, pieces simply work or they do not.
These do. There’s little of the aimless noodling so often found on avant-garde
recordings. (Check out (3) for some examples of this.) Instead, there’s a focus here akin
to that found on Double Trio’s recent “Green Dolphy Suite.” Perhaps because they are
completely ad libbed, however, the pieces on “Moments” are a bit more berserk.
Those unfamiliar with Joelle Leandre from her fine work with Irene Schweitzer
and Maggie Nicols are in for a real treat. Her prowess at contemporary techniques is
matchless, except perhaps by Mark Dresser, and her playing is more exuberant and
frenetic than his. Her mates on this disk aren’t left in her dust though. Each is a
mindboggling adept at lightspeed flutter, screech and scratch methods. When they really
get it going, Canvas sounds like a mid-sized chamber orchestra blowing its brains out (or
a lone - but feisty - schnauzer being chased by a flock of angry rheas). If you’re looking
for a quibble, Carl’s loony accordion solo on (15) might go on a minute too long, but on
a nearly hour-long recording, that’s all I can come up with. Who needs synths, samplers
or computers when wood, gut, wind and talent can produce moments of thick,

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transcendent cacophony, moments of blinding beauty, and even moments of what might
be called “crackle, spackle and wheeze”? Those who like this kind of stuff should not
miss this album.
Like the artists on (1) and (2), all the players in the Scott Fields Ensemble are
solid technicians and talented improvisers. In addition, they have complementary
approaches to their art and have played with each other for some time. So why doesn’t
(3) work? First, I think, because the fully composed sections aren’t particularly
interesting: they’re mostly hip-yet-safe, “contempo” stylings. But there is apt
opportunity for unconstrained, spontaneous music-making on Dembski’s 50-plus minute
“Sonotropism,” and even these patches seem to be something missing. There are
undoubtedly some terrific moments, but the whole project is too self-consciously eclectic
and “downtown” to allow the players to lose themselves in the music for sustained
periods. In music as in life, nirvana requires forgetting oneself. Here, both the writing
and the playing seem at certain times to fall into the refrain “Remember Me!....Me!” and
at others to reverberate loudly with a “What should I be doing now?” vibe.
I’m a big admirer of Marilyn Crispell. If she had done nothing else, her work on
Braxton’s monumental “Willisau” and her own “Santuerio” would place her among the
great improvising pianists of the past quarter century. But like a top-level athlete having
an off night (but still launching a truckload of off-balance jumpers), her performance on
this album brings the whole team down a notch. Partly, this is a recording problem. The
piano sound is too far forward and too brittle for much of anything but a solo or concerto
performance. This is fine when Crispell is being featured, as on her absolutely amazing
solo at about the 23-minute mark of “Sonotropism,” but her ensemble work on this
outing is often distracting. A good example of this can be found on the free improv,
“moo, snort, sip.” I couldn’t help wishing that I could somehow edit out the piano track
so I’d be able to focus exclusively on the intense babbling, scrubbing and flailing of
Ochs, Turner and Fields. (Fortunately there’s an excellent Fields/Turner duet of this
kind at about the 27-minute mark of “Sonotropism.”) When these guys let loose, their
playing reminds one of Muhal Abrams’ early, ecstatic “Variations and Degrees of Light.”
But, partly because of Dembski’s “conduction” (consisting, in this case, of his writing
and conducting), and partly because of the improvisatory work, which is sometimes
tentative, sometimes self-conscious, and sometimes both, there are few prolonged
stretches of brilliance on this disk. Fans of these players may want to pick up a copy of
(3) to document this intriguing band’s progress, but others should probably wait for their
next outing.
Walter Horn