Tim O'brien's Fiddler's green

Contemporary bluegrass music today is often stereotyped as being more of the same thing. Unfortunately Tim O’brien’s third album Fiddler’s Green does nothing to change that stereotype. It does however give bluegrass enthusiasts that reliable “same old thing” in a thickly layered, twelve-song tribute to all things bluegrass; drinking, traveling, murder, love and sorrow. Released in 2005 on Howdy Skies records Fiddler’s Green is a mix of O’brien’s genius song writing, and traditional arrangements. The opening track “Pretty Fair Maid in the Garden,” breathes new life into a traditional tune about a soldier gone for several years who finally returns to find his love who has been waiting for him for several years. Later in the album we are graced by “Long Black Veil,” the traditional song come folk favorite thanks to the Band’s 1968 debut album, Music From Big Pink. The title track, “Fiddler’s Green,” written by songwriter Pete Goble, is an ode to, according to the CD booklet, “A mythical place where old sailors go when they die.” Throughout the song a man searches for his fiddler’s green in this word, to no avail, and at the end warns, “Go marry your young girl, raise corn and your beans/ don’t waste your young manhood on fiddler's green.” Throughout the album O’Brien plays mandolin, guitar, fiddle and bouzouki and incorporates guests from bluegrass legends Stuart Duncan, Jerry Douglas and Edgar Meyer to the young Chris Thile who lacks legend status only because of his youth. The high point of the album comes in the form Peter Rowan’s classic melody, “Land’s End.” Featuring a djembe, fiddle, bass, low whistle and Mr. O’Brien on the mandolin, “Land’s End” offers a great new take on a classic instrumental that’s sure to please bluegrass addicts and introductory listeners alike. If ships were still the primary method of transport, and if whiskey was still the only thing to drink then Tim O’Brien would surely be a household name. Sadly he’ll have to remain a folk/bluegrass hero to those who have been lucky enough to hear him.

The Mel Brown Quartet

Straight-ahead, sixties-era jazz is not something easily stumbled upon these days. Especially in Portland, OR where the word jazz can define anything with an overly long guitar solo or a standup bass. One place where the word jazz couldn’t be more accurately used is Jimmy Mak’s. The dimly lit, très classy jazz club on the corner of Everett and NW 10th, has taken everything about the word quite literally as far their décor goes. Unfortunately, the only time they take that approach towards the music is on Wednesday nights, when drumming legend Mel Brown picks up his finest brushes to play three hours of your papa’s jazz. Straight off the page, but played with unsurpassable professionalism, it’s no surprise that Mel Brown, formerly featured drummer for Motown legends, The Supremes and The Temptations, is Jimmy Mak’s weekly artist-in-residence. Tuesday and Thursday you’ll find him with his Septet and B3 Organ group, respectively, playing slightly more rocking, jazz-fusion. Wednesdays, however, solidify Mel-Browns legendary status as a Motown kid cum jazz magician.
Performing with Tony Pacini tickling the ivory, Ed Bennett on standup bass, and fellow artist-in-residence, and Portland jazz staple, Dan Balmer(the Dan Balmer Trio appears every Monday), Mel Brown would blow even the hippest, pork-pie hat wearing jazz cat out of the water. I arrived on Wednesday night to the swift, up-tempo bop, of Clifford Brown’s Daahoud. Typically heard at an extremely, “up,” tempo, Mel held a surprisingly, “down” high hat and snare, four four beat, while Mr. Pacini demonstrated remarkable piano technique. If I wasn’t staring right at him I might have thought there were two piano players. One playing a very complex syncopation of oddly inverted jazz chords, while the other wailed through perfectly accentuated scales and arpeggios that changed keys every two bars. Dan Balmer’s guitar work seemed lazy and uninspired, as he appeared to sigh after taking the solo from the keys. Balmer stuck to a very basic pattern of embellishing the melody, before annihilating any sort of breathing room with a rapid fury of arpeggios.
In between songs, and while playing for that matter, Mel Brown left no doubt that he used to play for the Temptations. Charming the crowd with a quick remark about the tune and a smile that could melt Ghengis Kahn’s heart, Brown introduced Tony Pacini and the group launched into the medium swing of Duke Ellington’s Love you Madly. Bass player Ed Bennett took a rather guitar-esque solo at the end of the solo section, playing at the top of his neck and playing licks that sounded slightly muddy and hurried on his seven foot standup bass. While the bass walked away into the parallel dimension of bass/ guitar solos, Mr. Balmer turned the volume all the way down on his guitar and continued to comp the chords. No one in the crowd could really hear anything but the sound of a pick against strings, and every strum made the overall vibe a little more awkward.
The high point of the night came when Tony Pacini began his original composition, Inside a Silent Tear, with a piano vamp that made me feel a little like I was in a Disney movie. All cheese factors aside, the band eventually came in with a very solid bop groove, and Dan Balmer finally escaped the modal minefield he seemed to be navigating all night. Putting aside the intellectual side of his playing, he approached his solo on this tune, with what felt like real emotion, coming to hair bending climax that sounded slightly reminiscent of a Guns’ and Roses guitar solo. The crowd stared in awe hooting and hollering for the first time all night as Balmer and the band faded out and Pacini brought us back in for the closing credits of The Little Mermaid.

Raimbaut de Vaquerias and the First of May

The songs of the troubadours were primarily about love. Whether it is lost love, wanted love, waning love or searching for love; the original troubadours were some seriously love sick bachelors. One of these bachelors, and perhaps the famous of them all, was Raimbaut de Vaquerias. Oddly enough, his most famous work, Kalenda Maya is not about love at all, the beginning of summer and what that entails for all.
Raimbaut de Vaquerias, born in 1150, called himself the son of a, “paubre caviler,” or a “poor knight.” Despite his disenfranchised beginning, Raimbaut went on to serve as a troubadour for Margrave of Montferrat in Northern Italy during the 1170’s, and in Provence under Hugues I des Baux shortly thereafter. His notoriety as a troubadour eventually gained him knighthood and an election as leader of the fourth crusade. It was at his first post as troubadour, however, Raimbaut composed his most famous work, Kalenda Maya.
According to the liner notes of Minstrels Two, Kalenda Maya came to be when, “at the court of Montferrat [Raimbaut] was asked to write words for a dance tune which was then being played by minstrels from northern France.” The result, Kalenda Maya, is a perfect illustration of a medieval plainchant and an even better example of the work of a troubadour. The words read almost like a children’s book of today would read. They describe what various animals and people are doing, as they finally have to wait no longer for kalenda maya, or the first of May. The first as well as the second verses paint a typical summer day, complete with smiling people and sleepy dogs, while third verse celebrates summer time sports. “On foot and ball our strength expending/ we’re not intending to be offending/our bruised limbs home we’re wending.” A comical and slightly silly rhyme scheme intertwines itself among an enchanting, jig like melody, resulting in a dance song that could cure any peasant’s plague.
The AB form of the piece solidifies its self-classification as an estampida, a traditional dance tune sung by troubadours. The syllabic verses, accentuate the simplicity of the song, yet one can’t help but hum the tune. That being said, the validity of Raimbaut as a composer is certainly not verified with this song as it was composed to an already existing fiddle tune. Unfortunately of the thirty- three songs accredited to Raimbaut, only seven of them have melodies that exist today . As a result it is hard to determine the legitimacy of Raimbaut’s compositional skills. We can however safely assume that Raimbaut knew how to write a good poem.

New Grove
Sargeant, Brian. Minstrels 2. London: Cambridge UP, 1979.
Sargeant, Brian. Minstrels 2. London: Cambridge UP, 1979.

Monk Music

When the druids return from the dead to reclaim the earth as theirs, Meredith Monk's, "Dolmen Music," will be their battle cry; and after listening we'll probably just hand the earth right over. I never thought twenty four minutes of incoherent chanting be so effective but Ms. Monk has made the Gregorian chant hip again. The ability to convey raw emotion without words is something jazz players do all the time. The ability to convey raw emotion that really moves the listener without words, using only the human voice, is an entirely different feat. Ambient and very minimal flute and cello occasionally intertwine with the six part vocal tapestry that dominates the piece, ranging from hypnotic chanting to high pitched shrills that fade in and out, putting the attentive listener into a trance like state. Despite the drawn out length of this ode to the ancients and the hordes of East Village bohemians, I found myself actually wanting more. The abrupt end of the piece left me slightly uneasy, almost as if the druids didn't really like what the saw and decided to turn back last minute.

Crazy Parents

These kids can really play their instruments. It's too bad that they don't look very happy doing it. It's a shame when parents push their kids to excell at things to this degree when they're so young. I wonder if these kids will be playing music when they're twenty.

John Zorn: Short Stories

If Mary Shelley were to write a score for Frankenstein, or rather if she were to employ Frankenstein to do so himself, he might come up with something similar t0 John Zorn's "Cat O' Nine Tails." Listening to this piece was like walking through an insane asylum, sporadic busrsts of fervor followed by extreme sorrow or brief moments of extreme joy. Mostly however, the piece is filled with ambient bow attacks and the percussive beating of what sounds like a cello. Its second name "(Tex Avery directs the Marquis de Sade)" leads me to believe that maybe this is what hell is for the Marquis de Sade. An eternity of listening to this piece while watching Tex Avery draw Daffy Duck stripping. Maybe that would be heaven for the Marquis de Sade?