CAA Artist-In-Residence: Erez Dessel – Gestural Mapping

Track 3 (Fig. 1.1) The Ethnic Heritage Ensemble is one of my favorite trios to come out of Chicago, and one of the longest-running creative music outfits (it was originally formed in 1973, and its current lineup features Corey Wilkes, Alex Harding, and Ishmael Ali alongside the group’s leader Kahil El’Zabar). This early iteration of the band finds El’Zabar joined by Joseph Bowie and Ed Wilkerson Jr., a formidable group of musicians (Wilkerson Jr. is still with us and active in Chicago). My favorite thing about this group is how they’re able to create so much sound with only three people. I would posit that, like with most small groups, there’s a quantum effect occurring here, and their ability to play with and against each other is what creates the greater-than-the-sum-of-their-parts effect that contributes to their large sound. I think there’s also something to be said for the creation of a sound world, and how a commitment to aesthetic, when done with purpose, can aid in making the music larger than life. I hear a common thread throughout many of the group’s songs, but I’m never bored, instead the world they’ve built always feels inviting, with new rooms to discover and strange hallways to get lost in.

“An interpretation of street hipness, green dolphin style.” This is how El’Zabar describes the opener of this 1988 set at Links Hall. Jazz fans might recognize it as a reconstruction of the standard “On Green Dolphin Street” though from the jump it’s distinctly done through the Ethnic Heritage Ensemble lens. Take note of the opening, and how the train noise blends seamlessly with El’Zabar’s percussion intro (I wasn’t around to see the old Links Hall, though listening to these recordings it’s clear that the CTA featured heavily in most performances). The blending of external environment and band sound is important, it emphasizes the group’s careful ear and sense of space, and highlights how Chicago creative musicians really investigated sound in all its forms. The band gets things going with a simple two note vamp, though once the horns have locked in with the percussion, the depth of groove feels so unstoppable I could imagine the whole room felt they were a part of the vamp. El’Zabar’s vocalizations are a unique aspect of this ensemble, and again feel like something done in the name of environment, they never take center stage, instead forming a glue that fills the gaps between percussion and horns.

I love the way Bowie and Wilkerson approach the “tune”, shadowboxing and throwing light jabs rather than fully committing to a punch, but with a knowledge and playfulness that lets you know they could dance around each other all night. Again, sound is the priority here, Bowie’s gravelly trombone plays a perfect foil to Wilkerson’s high, haunting saxophone. Eventually, El’Zabar joins the melody as well, allowing Bowie to solo, and Wilkerson to wax and wane between the simple vamp and the more complex intervallic melody, bare structure but fertile ground for improvisation. Throughout all of this the percussion is an engine on the open road, nowhere to go but forward, all momentum and purr. Wilkerson moves into the spotlight at some point, taking a gorgeous solo. His voice is one of the most unique on the instrument, on this track it shifts between sounding like speech, clipped and phrase-like, and resting on the the groove, howling over the top of the trio. Towards the end, El’Zabar gets a solo moment, leaning into the drum in a way that makes his solo feel like an extension of the beat, as if these rhythms were there all along just waiting to burst forth. Like the trio itself, the palette is somewhat sparse, just bells and hand drums, but El’Zabar’s brilliance makes everything sing. We get another lilting rendition of the melody at the end, truly I’ve never heard the song played like this, in the best way, it seems that we’ve left behind any connection to the 1947 American songbook classic and are invoking a new sound. In a final moment of serendipity the band fades perfectly with another passing train, the environment wiping the slate clean, clearing the way for more music to be made.

Coda: I want to give a special shout out to Track 12 (Fig. 1.2) in the name of environment. The first sound we hear after the applause dies down is a chair scraping the ground, seemingly incidental noise. However, ever the astute listeners, the ensemble grabbed on to that sound, and once El’Zabar’s bells and cymbals die down, we’re treated to an intricate creaking improvisation pitted against a whirly tube drone. Chair scraping, squeaking, someone stomping or knocking on the floor (?), an exploration of woody noises provides an unexpected intro to this song.

As an improvising musician, I feel that it’s important to be amenable to all types of sound/music sources, and I’ve often found new music to be a great source of inspiration. It was hard to pick just one piece from this concert, so I’ve given a brief survey of a few of my favorites from this New Music Chicago set from 1987. Along with the great music, I find it interesting to listen to older recordings of new music, as this is an idiom that has often progressed linearly and has a well-documented written history, and is a modern progression of an older art form. It’s fascinating to see what was considered cutting edge in 1987 and use that as a marker of where we are now. I’m also looking at this unabashedly as an improviser and composer of creative music, so it’s always an engaging exercise to try to learn things from this music (instrumental ideas, textures, formal concepts) purely by ear, even though presumably all of this music was scored. 

Track 3: The idea of sustained intensity can look very different depending on the musician attempting it, to me this lengthy solo cello piece is an excellent example of how to achieve that energy. Granted, the cellist is playing a composition, though sometimes that can make it more challenging, if a piece is rehearsed too often, it can lose some of its edge. The beginning of this piece uses intervals in a concerted way, keeping the momentum going and establishing a real bite to the music without any extended techniques or even variations beyond single-note lines. Gradually the piece opens up; fast passages and space, chords, and a variety of rhythms come into play. Still, something about the pace the performer takes makes everything feel like it’s simmering in the best way, there’s drama in each line. It’s not until halfway through the piece that we get bow slaps and pizzicato, and the restraint here makes all the difference. There’s an effect at play that I hear with best improvisers as well, being able to use somewhat conventional technique on the instrument to truly wring out all possible ideas and explorations, only using extended techniques when the music actually calls for it, rather than as a crutch to artificially buoy the drive of the music. Fans of this might want to check out Diedre Murray.

Track 7 (Fig. 2.1): Oftentimes with electronic music I find myself looking for the possible acoustic origin of what’s happening (maybe a bad habit that shows by bias towards acoustic music, but I find that even the best, most digital-cyborg-esque electronic musicians have a good handle on the acoustic principles of music, and haven’t let the simulacra overtake the origin point of sound). The initial organ sound here is nice, almost reminiscent of mid-century radio drama soundtracks, and the sounds that follow, though computer-ish, feel very vocal to me. Fans of this might want to check out George Lewis.

Track 9 (Fig. 2.2): I was captivated by the opening of this clarinet piece, a sweet melodic fragment that’s vaguely manipulated, until a sudden repeated note brings the performer into a sudden burst of distortion. This mixing of styles, something that appears traditionally classical but takes an experimental turn, and so quickly, is effective, and for an improviser, a good example of how to push and pull with audience expectation. It also sets the stage for a sort of conceptual motivic development, the rest of the piece follows with groupings of similar ideas, classical passages intertwined with contemporary fragments, often with textures being continually brought up and reworked. Intensely staccato phrases, long notes stuttering and distorting, trills, overblown notes; all of these are familiar sounds in the toolkit of a woodwind player, so then the game becomes one of execution and ordering. Here, I feel a great sense of narrative from the composer, and (knowing nothing about the score) am really struck by the performer’s sense of rhythm, especially with the long note effects. The jumps from more legato phrases feel like they have a very organic sense of movement, and I wonder how much room the composer made for the performer to dictate things in this piece. Fans of this might want to check out John Carter.