Gary Chapin, Don Phipps and Lee Rice Epstein will be looking at Anthony Braxton’s 10 Comp (Lorraine) 2022 over the
next few days.
By Gary Chapin
I saw a birthday message to Anthony Braxton in his Facebook group, recently, and someone wished him a “creative” year. That’s a wish that I think will be granted. I’m all for celebrations and wishes of good fortune, but if there’s anyone who reliably has creative and productive years, especially in his late career, that person has been Anthony Braxton.
Witness the current release, 10 discs focused on the Lorraine compositions. Ten discs. Ten compositions. Ten performances. Ten concerts. Released as if this is just a normal thing a person does. It is not. It is a normal thing a Prometheus does, and Braxton has been bringing us fire since 3 Compositions of New Jazz in 1968 (with Muhal Richard Abrams, Leroy Jenkins, and Wadada Leo Smith).
The first six tracks of Lorraine feature Braxton on saxes and electronics, Adam Matlock on accordion and voice, and Susana Santos Silva. It’s an interesting chamber group, with the accordion and electronics supplying the miasma everyone swims in, while the sax, accordion, and trumpet do the swimming. It would be too much to call it synchronized swimming, but they are swimming in conversation. A lot of kinetic call and response going on.
Track one, 'Comp 423,' begins as Braxton means to go on. The structures are languid and move at a regular pace, while the melodic voices dart all over the place. The textures leave a lot of space and no one rushes in to fill a vacuum. Trying to think of how to understand this music, how to grok it, my first thought was that it was somewhat rhetorical—there are sections where it feels like the three voices are having an argument and making points. The second thought was that it was theater or dance. My mind generates a choreography for this without even being asked to, a plot expressed with bodies and not words. After about ten minutes, Matlock comes in with wordless utterance, which only makes all the rest of it sound more organic or biological. It immediately brought to mind Roscoe Mitchell’s work with vocalist Thomas Buckner.
Track two, 'Comp 424,' opens in a more playful space—although each track is a disc or around 45 minutes, and each traverses a number of “spaces”—and makes it a good time to mention that Braxton’s constant solo/obbligato is a wonderous unfolding of melodic ideas and inspirations. None of the musicians here explore the screeching edge of their timbres. They all play within the advertised parameters. But they play with a lightness and, much of the time, dry humor that is a trademark of Braxton’s recent chamber work.
Track three, 'Comp 425,' continues in the same multi-variant vein. I would be lying if I told you I entirely understood the shared qualities that make something a Lorraine composition. There is a space and a set of rules around “how to be in the world and how to be in relation with each other” that unifies the set and encourages each voice. There’s a sense of ease, also, which is very welcome. It’s a quieter kind of love. No one gets whipped into a frenzy. There’s enough of that going on in the world.
This review will continue tomorrow and the next day.
3 comments:
The word "miasma" in the third paragraph seems a bit confusing. Could you please elaborate your thought further?
Hey there, in this case I'm using miasma as a metaphor for an atmosphere of mystery and uncertainty, filled with potential.
Well, I understand your point now. Thank you. My problem was that miasma mostly relates to an unpleasant or unhealthy athmosphere, so I would rather be using the word "fluid" or "in limbo". However, the English is not my mother tongue, so I rely on your better feeling. Thank you once again.
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