RVANews

Dave Douglas: Artist in residence

Taylor Barnett — Thu, 08 Apr 2010 10:00:34 +0000

All discussions about the pitfalls of modern jazz education aside, one good thing we can all agree on about jazz schools is their ability to bring masters like trumpeter Dave Douglas to perform and teach in places that they might not otherwise visit. Such will be the case next week when Douglas performs with the VCU Jazz Orchestra I. One of Richmond's own trumpet talents had a chance to ask the highly-influential musician a couple questions. --Ed.

Two-time Grammy-nominated jazz musician Dave Douglas is arguably the most prolific and original trumpeter-composer of his generation. From his New York base, where he has lived since the mid 1980s, Mr. Douglas has continued to earn lavish national and international acclaim including prizes from such organizations as the New York Jazz Awards, Down Beat, JazzTimes, Jazziz, and the Italian Jazz Critics Society.

His solo recording career began in 1993 with Parallel Worlds on Soul Note Records, and he has since released more than 30 recordings. In 2005, after seven critically acclaimed albums for Bluebird/RCA, Mr. Douglas launched his own record label, Greenleaf Music. The same year, he was honored with a Guggenheim Fellowship. On Greenleaf, Mr. Douglas has released albums with his long-standing quintet, the electronic sextet Keystone, and the mixed chamber ensemble Nomad. In 2009 he released A Single Sky, a collaboration with Jim McNeely and Frankfurt Radio Bigband.

Mr. Douglas will be an artist in residence at Virginia Commonwealth University from April 11-13th, presenting master classes and clinics for VCU music students. He will perform in concert with the VCU Jazz Orchestra I on Tuesday, April 13 at 8PM at the VCU Singleton Center for the Performing Arts (922 Park Ave., Richmond, 23284).

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In the liner notes to your new big band album "A Single Sky," Darcy James Argue writes that "For better or worse big bands are a staple of the modern jazz educational system -- you'll find them pretty much anywhere jazz is taught on any kind of formal level." Is this true of your curricular music education, either in high school or college and if so, in what ways do you feel that your musical growth benefited from and/or was hindered by large ensemble jazz playing?

Funny. That's a really good question. Playing in big bands was NOT part of my curricular music education and I'm not a particularly good section player. Also, "A Single Sky" is my first set of compositions for big band. In junior high I had a small taste of stage band playing, and then my interests kind of went in a different direction. I've developed my voice as a writer for small improvising groups and that has allowed me to pursue certain strategies that emphasize jazz's spontaneity and interaction. The music I am writing now is very much informed by my education as a small group player, and hopefully feeds some of what is good about that kind of playing back into a traditional big band context.

As you go out and perform residencies at universities in the United States and abroad, what differences have you noticed about the way jazz education is approached? What do you think is lacking in formal jazz education?

Jazz and music programs differ greatly. The differences are very personal and have a lot to do with the individuals running the program. Especially in jazz there is a lot of leeway in how it is taught, and the outcome of that education is wide open because the music itself is so broad. Music education is usually self-directed -- it takes the initiative of the student to find out how to apply his or her self. So I don't see any big problem as long as students are allowed to pursue the music that excites them.
If I had to point out one important thing that is sometimes missed it would be performance opportunities. Nothing like getting on stage to perform to demonstrate what needs to be worked on! That said, I see a lot of change in this direction. Programs understand that bandstand experience is essential, curriculum or no.

One of the things that I think characterizes your music is the acknowledgment of each musician's personal voice and the interplay that true group improvisation demands. Big band music, especially when the chart and soloist travel from band to band, would seem to be at a disadvantage in these ways compared to your working/touring bands. Can you talk a little bit about the process of rehearsing your music with musicians who you don't have a longstanding relationship with?

Yes, that is really an issue I have had with large ensembles. I do try to find a way to arrange that gives everyone a bit of a chance to be themselves. Or at least to take a stab at finding something of their own to add to the music. You know, I hear that in the great classical composers -- when a good orchestra plays Beethoven or Mahler I hear each player being orchestrated in a very personal way.
I'm not comparing myself to Beethoven or Mahler! I'm just saying that in their work as well as in the bands of Gil Evans, Charles Mingus, and maybe most of all Duke Ellington, the music itself invites a kind of unique response from each player. Good big bands should be like that, too. So to circle back to your question, yes, the rehearsal process sometimes does take a bit longer because I occasionally ask for some unorthodox things. And that can be slightly tense. But in music we have the luxury of working things out civilly, and it interests me to talk with players about what's going on and how they hear things.

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photo credit: Jimmy Katz

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From Spike Lee to Cornel West: A Conversation with Terence Blanchard

Taylor Barnett — Tue, 27 Oct 2009 16:00:46 +0000

Terence Blanchard is one of the most celebrated jazz musicians of his generation. Beginning his career with a tenure as trumpeter and musical director in Art Blakey’s Jazz Messengers and with nearly 20 albums under his name and more than 50 movie scores to his credit – including a long and fruitful relationship with director Spike Lee – he has proven himself to be one of the most prolific performers and composers on the scene today.

Blanchard was awarded the Grammy for Best Large Jazz Ensemble Album for his 2007 release "A Tale of God’s Will (A Requiem for Katrina)", a response to the devastation caused to his hometown of New Orleans by Hurricane Katrina. He is currently touring in support of his newest album, “Choices” released on Concord Jazz in August. “Choices” features Blanchard’s quintet joined by guitarist Lionel Loueke, vocalist Bilal, and writer, speaker, educator, and activist Dr. Cornel West. We recently spoke on the phone in advance of his quintet’s concert at the Modlin Center on Friday, October 30.

Thanks so much for taking the time to talk to me today. I’ve really enjoyed listening to your new record, and I’m looking forward to your performance next week. The articles that I have written for RVANews have dealt with composition and improvisation and the interesting relationship between the two and the implications on musical performances.

As a musician who has composed for movies and performed in situations where there is little or no collective improvisation and also as a composer, performer and bandleader of groups whose primary medium is spontaneous, conversational improvisation, I think you have a unique perspective on this relationship and I’d love to hear some of your thoughts on the subject.

Well, at this point they all seem to be one musical experience to me. It’s really all about telling a story and in one particular area of the story, I give a person room to give their own slant on that story. For instance, I’m working on a piece now for a film where there’s a lot of rhythmic stuff – big drums and things like that – and even inside of that, while I’m composing, I still give indications for the percussionists to add their own little spice to whatever it is they’re going to play. Now that’s not a total improvised featured solo, but it is a way that they can bring a certain type of freedom and excitement to the music. And then there are going to be other spots where there are also elements of improvisation.   I guess what it all boils down to for me is trying to mimic the human experience. Like when you’re having a conversation with somebody, all of a sudden there may be outbursts when one of you gets excited about a certain topic. Well, that same type of thing can happen musically and I think that those are the reasons why we respond to certain things in composition and improvisation because they mimic our own experiences in life.

Building on what you just mentioned about music telling stories, I’m curious about how your process for composing, and also for improvising with your band mates, is influenced by the subject matter; whether it’s a fictional story, a commentary on a historical or current event, or even just the theme of “Choices” as in your new record title. How directly does that external theme influence the actual music that you guys are making?

I think that it may have somewhat of an effect because it will set a tone, a scenario, will emit certain types of energy and when we start to play, I think we’re always influenced by those things. Like I said, the theme will set a tone and we’ll start to hear ideas within that tone and then start to develop them from there.

I think that probably the most interesting thing to me about your newest album, “Choices,” is the way you took your conversation with Dr. Cornel West that was recorded live in his office in Princeton and then took excerpts of that to create a metaphysical conversation by interspersing it with the music. And if I understand this correctly, you’ve continued this conversation in your live performances too, is that right?

Yeah, we have taken those fragments and sampled them, which I trigger during the live shows.

So, has your relationship and your understanding of the things that Dr. West said evolved in a similar way to how your relationship with the musical compositions – the melodies, chord progressions and forms – has evolved over the course of this tour?

Sure, I think that there are some words that he said that have started to really resonate with me. For instance he said, “Imitation is suicide. Emulation is a form of an adolescent mind.” That part of it really struck a chord with me the more and more I listen to it, because it started to really clarify my mind about the whole notion of being an artist, of developing. You know, one of the things that we call courage is really not courage at all in the sense of art, but it’s really a willingness to learn more and a failure to have the ability to constantly look back. So my relationship to that statement has been evolving over the course of time since we had that conversation.

I’d imagine that hearing him say, “Imitation is suicide” while you’re onstage playing would be inspirational, even convicting.

Oh yeah. I mean, it’s kind of hard hear that and then go back and try to play like Clifford Brown…

Yeah, exactly. And of course, two of the musicians that Dr. West mentions specifically, Beethoven and [John] Coltrane, both started as emulators, as we all do. And when they really began to pursue their own voice, it was a risky thing for them; they took a lot of heat for it from the critics.

Of course.

As a jazz musician, I think it’s so important to hear the melody of a tune in the back of my mind as I’m improvising so that I don’t approach the song as a generic set of chord changes. I’m curious, since you’re hearing Dr. West’s words either before or along with the heads of the tunes, do you perceive the words as a part of the musical composition, and do you and the other members of your band discuss how it could or should affect your group improvisations?

We’re not discussing it together too much anymore but when everybody first heard it we had a few conversations. All of these guys were influenced in their own way by Dr. West’s words and they all have a ritual that they go through to put them in the right space before a show. It’s pretty interesting but that’s a question that you would have to pose to the guys individually because sometimes I’m shocked by what they have to say. On the webisode Kendrick [Scott] talked about how he always writes on his drumsticks, “Lord, let me be an instrument of Thy peace.” I find it interesting because I always knew he was doing something but I found that out while watching the webisode.

I mean everybody has their own little thing; that’s the thing about these guys. I mean, Fabian Almazan [the pianist of the group] is not the kind of a guy who just comes up, sits down and says, “OK, what key do you want to play this tune in.” He’s really thinking of the type of expression, of the type of statement that he’s trying to make.

So, I’ve read in a few interviews about how your recent tour with Herbie Hancock was really inspirational. Specifically you mention how in spite of playing the same tunes every night, Herbie was able to approach them in a fresh way and was so open to what the other musicians were doing.   What I found really interesting about that is that here you have a giant like Herbie Hancock and one can draw the line directly from Bird [Charlie Parker] working with Miles [Davis] when Miles was much younger and then Miles working with Herbie when Herbie was much younger than himself. Now you have Herbie working with you and then you working with your band, which is comprised of mostly younger guys. Throughout this lineage, the older musicians were intentionally surrounding themselves by younger musicians who think outside of the box and challenge them and at the same time the older guys are mentoring the younger ones. I know that you have been a teacher to your band mates before they joined your band so can you talk about how this plays itself out within your band?

Well, it works in the way that I’ve always envisioned a jazz band working, in that it’s my name on the marquee but it’s really input from all of these guys that creates the sound. I give them a lot of freedom, you know. I’ve always taken the position that I don’t know it all and that I’m open to see what other people’s opinions are about a certain musical idea.   So with this particular band, although one person may create a tune, by the time we’re done with it, everyone has had some kind of input. You know, Wayne Shorter once said something in an interview that was very interesting. He talked about how all of this, all these records and all these concerts were just one continuous live performance broken into segments, which gives evidence of how life is everlasting. And I agree with that.

The Terence Blanchard Quintet will perform at University of Richmond’s Modlin Center for the Arts on Friday, October 30th at 7:30pm. For more information on the performance or to buy tickets, stop by the Modlin Center website.

Taylor Barnett is a Richmond, Virginia based trumpeter, teacher, and composer of jazz, classical, and commercial music. He is an active member of the creative music scene in Richmond as a member of No BS! Brass, Mingus Awareness Project Big Band, Baby Huey and the Babysitters, and as a leader of his own jazz 10-tet.

(Photo courtesy of Jenny Bagert)

Melody and Rhythm: Béla Fleck, Zakir Hussain, and Edgar Meyer in concert

Taylor Barnett — Tue, 06 Oct 2009 10:00:48 +0000

Often, when world-renowned artists team up to form a “super group” the result is somehow less than the sum of its parts. This was happily not the case with Sunday evening’s concert at University of Richmond’s Modlin Center for the Arts.

Banjoist Béla Fleck, bassist Edgar Meyer, and tabla master Zakir Hussain are the most famous and celebrated performers on their respective instruments. Though they each possess limitless virtuosity and a myriad of timbral and textural possibilities, it turns out that the most vital quality that the trio shares is the ability to listen and respond with humility and respect for each other and, more significantly, for the music.

From the opening notes of “Bubbles,” a Fleck composition that began the concert, it became clear that dialogue was the watchword for the evening. The trio carried on extended improvisatory conversations, communicating with each other and with the composition with such clarity and honesty that for much of the time, it was difficult to tell what was composed and what was improvised.

Hussain’s ability to play melodies on the bāyāñ – the lower pitched drum of the two tabla drums – freed Meyer up from the role of the sole bass voice so that he could function at times as a soaring soprano or a mournful baritone voice. In the trio’s adaptation of The Melody of Rhythm – the concerto for the soloists and full orchestra that is the centerpiece of the trio’s recent album – Meyer, Hussain, and Fleck built their collective improvisations into extended climaxes, using such a variety of textures and colors that the trio seemed to be more than compensating for the missing orchestra.

The trio are shrewd programmers as well -- not every song was an epic adventure that pushed the limits of possibility; one can only take so much of that before becoming numb to the music. Some pieces were lighter fare both in intensity and in musical scope, a welcome contrast to be sure. “Out of the Blue” with its funky backbeat feel and the occasional nod to Miles Davis’s “So What” from the landmark jazz album Kind of Blue was one of the most fun pieces of the evening. The casual and often silly banter between the performers as they introduced the compositions showed that they take the music seriously, not themselves.

Each member of the trio played a solo piece, demonstrating that they were more than capable of carrying the music by themselves. Most notable of these was Hussain’s exploration of melody, harmony and rhythm on his seven (yes seven!) different pitched tabla. He used a familiar pentatonic scale created by the six upper tabla and provided a wonderful harmonic context using the bāyāñ as a melodic bass voice. These interludes were a nice reprieve from the trio pieces, giving the audience a chance to focus on the one performer.

Impressive as the solo pieces were, the highlight of the concert was the collaborative process between the three artists. Some of the music had a strong flavor of India – a meditative droning bass with a set tonality – with Fleck and Meyer speaking the language of the raga with their characteristic American accents. Other pieces borrowed more from the American folk/bluegrass tradition and yet others were more reminiscent of European classical music. Throughout the night, Hussain’s keen musical instincts and understanding of all musical styles showed why he is a favorite collaborator for some of the West’s most revered musicians including John McLaughlin’s, Charles Lloyd, and George Harrison. On every song, each musician played with sincerity and was able to relate effectively not only to the musical genre of the moment but also to each other.

The epitome of this process was “Bahar,” a Hussain composition. The melody, though based on an Indian Raga is evocative of American folk tune. This piece was truly a universal musical statement, with each performer able to relate to the melody in a personal way and to work with each other to create a sublime blend of sound that was at once familiar and also unlike anything that I have heard before.

This was definitely one of the most amazing and enjoyable concerts in recent memory and for those reading this who were not fortunate enough to be in the sold-out crowd, the offerings of the upcoming Richmond Folk Festival will hopefully ease your pain.

(Photo by Jim McGuire)

Music As It Was Meant To Be

Taylor Barnett — Fri, 27 Mar 2009 12:00:58 +0000

Music is meant to be experienced. In fact, I would posit that music doesn’t actually exist until it’s experienced – in time, in space, in sound waves vibrating through the air. The old “tree-falling-in-the-forest” riddle is applicable here. Yes, the tree does make a sound, but only when someone is there to hear it does that sound have any meaning?

Lately, I’ve been thinking about how the experience of a particular type of music depends on its basic nature and what impact this should have on musical creation. One thing that’s been helpful in my thought process has been to consider whether a piece of music is essentially a monologue or a dialogue. I say essentially because most musical styles fit solidly in one camp or the other.

Monologic music is that which is entirely (or almost entirely) set in advance and represents a singular musical statement. The goal of monologic music is to present the composition as accurately and expressively as possible. Though there is some room for interpretation by the performer, ultimately the experience should be of the composition rather than of the performance.

Dialogic music is quite the opposite in that there is room for improvisatory dialogue between the musicians. What one performer plays affects the others and vice-versa. This dialogue can also exist between the performer and the listener in that the response and mood of the audience affects not only the energy of the performance but also the content of the music itself. The experience of this music is more about the performance than it is about the composition. These two types of music-making are quite different in intent and execution and this should be taken into consideration when composing and programming music.

It’s not necessary to choose one over the other since there are musicians who are great at both and individuals who equally enjoy monologic and dialogic music. However, there are circumstances and venues that benefit one more than the other. When NO BS! Brass (of which I am a member) performed at the VCU Department of Music’s BrassFest in October, we played on the concert hall stage for a very well-behaved audience. It was a pleasant change to not have people shouting over the music and to not have any televisions on in the room; however the closest person to us was 40 feet away and about 4 feet below us (and if you know anything about NO BS!, you know that we are not “above” our audience). It was weird. The fundamental characteristic of NO BS!’s music is that it encourages a dialogue among the band members and between the band and the audience. The concert hall stage is, quite simply, not an ideal place for music like that to be presented. How much communication can take place when the band members are spread out on a large stage and when the audience is removed from the performance both physically and through standard concert hall etiquette? The ability to perceive the communication among the performers and to communicate with them through dancing, shouting, clapping, and eye contact requires a smaller, informal performance environment.

The concert hall is much better suited to monologic music, where the ultimate experience for the listener would be to hear the music as the composer intended it. The separation that a concert hall creates is beneficial here, in that it allows the audience to experience the blended, final product without being distracted by the individual musicians and without the performers being distracted by the audience. It has become vogue for classical music organizations to present concerts by small ensembles in bars and clubs in an attempt to attract new audiences. A few years ago, I heard a very fine string quartet from Boston perform pieces by Mozart, Ligeti, and Webern at a bar in downtown Richmond. While it was a neat concept and an enjoyable show, that music doesn’t thrive in a setting where there is a lot of ambient noise (conversations, cash register, drink glasses, etc.) and where the instruments’ tones don’t have a chance to blend in the room.

Obviously the quality of each kind of music depends on the ability and vision of the creator(s). As I discussed in my last article for RVA News, the best monologic music can seem organic, spontaneous, and soulful; and great dialogic improvisation can have balance, structure, and cohesion. However, though the greatest examples of composed and improvised music can share all of these qualities – balance, structure, spontaneity, and soulfulness – the ultimate experience of these two types of music is still determined by which camp they fall into.

What I have just said is controversial. It probably doesn’t upset anyone to say that classical music doesn’t “belong” in a bar or club, but I’d imagine that some people will take issue with my saying that dialogic music – jazz, funk, salsa, jam band, and avant garde – doesn’t “work” in the concert hall or festival stage. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that there should not be a Jazz at Lincoln Center, or that the Keith Jarrett Standards Trio should only play clubs and not European opera houses, or that the gigantic jazz festivals shouldn’t exist. Those things are good for the promotion of improvised music and they have their virtues, to be sure. What I am saying is that those places, by their very nature, are less conducive to the social nature of dialogic music.

There’s a reason that individual venues tend to only present either monologic or dialogic music and it’s not because jazz or salsa isn’t good enough for the Paris Opera House or that classical music is too good for Bogart’s Back Room. Because music’s existence is inextricably linked to its real-time experience, a piece of music is quickly ruined when presented in a setting that does not respect its very nature.

Though, as I said, most music fits solidly into one camp or the other, there are many musicians (myself included) who are interested in taking best of what monologic and dialogic music have to offer. What I have found is that it is much easier said than done. It is a challenge to live in both worlds simultaneously as a performer (and as a composer) and even harder to find a venue and an audience that is ideally suited to music that at once draws from different worlds and yet does not fit in any of them. That said, I believe that it is a rewarding experience for both the musician and the audience.

Below is an example of my music that is both monologic and dialogic. It is an arrangement of a short (0:25 long) beginner piano piece by Béla Bartók. I expanded it by adding elements of New Orleans jazz, Duke Ellington, and free jazz. The piece is titled: Mikrokosmos #75: “Triplets.” It features myself on flugelhorn and Jason Scott on tenor saxophone. As you listen, think about where this piece might be best performed. Drop me a line if you figure it out.

Listen...

[audio:http://rvanews.net/sounds/2009/03/triplets.mp3]

Taylor Barnett is a Richmond, Virginia based trumpeter, teacher, and composer who is involved in jazz, classical, and commercial music. In 2001 he was awarded First Place in the Jazz Division of the National Trumpet Competition. Taylor was a founding member of Devil’s Workshop Big Band and has has performed with the Woody Herman Orchestra, the Dorsey Brothers Orchestra, the Charlottesville Oratorio Society, and with artists such as Gladys Knight, The Temptations, Frankie Avalon, Steve Wilson, Ray Anderson, John D’earth, and René Marie. As a composer, Taylor’s work is published by UNC Jazz Press and has been commissioned by trumpeter Rex Richardson for performances at international music festivals in Australia, Portugal, China, and the U.S. Taylor is an active member of the creative music scene in Richmond as a member of No B.S. Brass Band, Mingus Awareness Project Big Band, and as a leader of his own jazz quartet. In 2007 he formed the Taylor Barnett 10-tet, an ensemble that reflects his varied musical interests in jazz, classical, Klezmer, blues, and rock styles. Taylor’s self-produced album For Someone features original compositions and arrangements for the 10-tet and is available at CDBaby.com and the iTunes Music Store.

Live Together, Die Alone: The Value of Free-Improvisation

Taylor Barnett — Wed, 03 Dec 2008 14:54:53 +0000

Was that improvised or written? I’m occasionally asked this question by an audience member and it never fails to bring a smile to my face. I am an improviser (which is to say that I can improvise) and the question above addresses what I feel is one of the most important aspects of musical creation. It is usually painfully obvious whether certain portions of a performance are improvised or composed. Generally speaking, improvisations are more aimless, less cohesive, and seem esoteric to all but the most interested and informed listeners. Music that is being read from a score, on the contrary, is more clear, predictable (and I don’t mean that in a pejorative sense), and accessible. The flip side of these observations is that though improvisation lacks the clarity and concision of most composition, it has an immediacy and a conviction that is often lacking in the performance of composed material.

If the fundamental quality of improvisation is that anything is possible and the fundamental quality of composition is that only one thing is possible (the thing that has been chosen before the performance began), then the perfect balance of the two, whether a performance is improvised or not, is that seemingly anything can happen and when it does it feels perfect and inevitable. The question makes me smile because just by being asked, I know that I have succeeded in this musical mission.

Most musicians, even so-called improvisers, spend the majority of their time playing composed material read from a written score, where the room for freedom is limited to the arena of interpretation: tempo, vibrato, dynamics, phrasing, etc. In fact, most improvisation is best characterized as an elaboration of composed material. Furthermore, the improviser is subject to fairly strict guidelines, dictated by the role of his particular instrument. Almost no musician spends any significant time on the other end of the musical spectrum – playing totally spontaneous improvisation. I believe that there is great value to individual and collaborative free-improvisation, regardless of the qualitative success of the musical product. It is through this process that a musician can sharpen his senses and creativity, which positively impacts the rest of his musical life.

What happens when you strip away from music all of the elements of composition: harmony, melody, form, orchestration? You are left with the elements of performance: tone, inflection, feeling, space, and listening/responding; the last of these being the most critical.

Teachers and directors are often heard encouraging their students to listen, but the fact is that an individual doesn’t have to listen well to play written music in an ensemble. Great ensemble playing requires good listening but a group can create an acceptable, even enjoyable, performance without it. Even traditional improvisation doesn’t require the individual to keep his ear open to his fellow improvisers. Each instrumentalist has a role and (assuming a level of individual experience and skill) a group can improvise over a compositional structure and still create decent music without each member listening to what the others are playing.

When a group decides to make music outside the safe confines of a composition they are freed from their traditional ensemble roles. Inevitably the following thought process begins in each individual:

“What should I play? I don’t know, what’s he going to play? I don’t know that either…”

And thus the listening begins. This is not passive, disinterested listening but earnest attention to what one’s band mates will do so that a proper response can be made. Also, since it is nearly impossible to create a traditional musical structure, the performers are forced to compensate by relying on the often-neglected elements of performance mentioned above. Then, when they return to the world of composed music, the camaraderie and the heightened awareness they have gained will breathe life into the inanimate notes on the page.

Notice that I have so far ignored the possibility that the freely improvised music might actually be listenable or enjoyable. Reaching that point takes an enormous amount of trial and error (emphasis on the error!), even for a group of skilled improvisers. Free-improvisation is not something that need be performed publicly by most musicians, but should be a part of every student’s training and is an activity that ensembles of all styles of music should use to grow their skill and trust.

My own experience with group free-improvisation was with the Devil’s Workshop Big Band (DWBB), an ensemble that performed together weekly for almost five years. Most of us were students together in the VCU Department of Music before the DWBB existed and played together professionally in numerous groups of varying genres. Therefore we shared an uncommon level of musical trust and intimacy. Each gig started with the “Free Tune,” which lasted anywhere from a couple of minutes to more than a half-hour and could range from avant-garde gibberish to glorious, cohesive pop vamps. Much of the time it was not the most “listenable” music, but even at its most musically unproductive it put us in a place, individually and collectively, that set the stage for the entire night’s creation. The “Free Tune” was like a trust exercise, but instead of falling backwards into each other’s arms, we jumped into the musical abyss, having faith that we would either remember how to fly, or be caught by someone else who had.

If you were there, you know what I’m talking about; if you weren’t, don’t worry, here is a taste.

[audio:http://rvanews.net/sounds/2008/11/FreeTune-edited.mp3]

The above is an excerpt from the beginning of a 17-minute improvisation that was recorded on a Tuesday afternoon in Bogart’s Back Room in July 2002. It was the day after we recorded our first (and only) album and we spent the day playing free tunes, some completely unguided like the one above, and some with abstract themes like “let’s pretend that we’re all individual bars on a giant marimba.”

The personnel on this recording is:

Steve Norfleet (bandleader), JC Kuhl, Colin Killalea, Matt Scott, Tony Forgey – saxophones
Bob Miller, Mark Ingraham, Taylor Barnett, John D’earth – trumpets
Sam Savage, Toby Whitaker, Stefan Demetriadis – trombones
Daniel Clarke – piano
Nate Griffith, Colin McEnearney – guitars
Matt Hall – bass
Robby Sinclair - drums

Taylor Barnett is a Richmond, Virginia based trumpeter, teacher, and composer who is involved in jazz, classical, and commercial music. In 2001 he was awarded First Place in the Jazz Division of the National Trumpet Competition. Taylor was a founding member of Devil's Workshop Big Band and has has performed with the Woody Herman Orchestra, the Dorsey Brothers Orchestra, the Charlottesville Oratorio Society, and with artists such as Gladys Knight, The Temptations, Frankie Avalon, Steve Wilson, Ray Anderson, John D'earth, and René Marie. As a composer, Taylor's work is published by UNC Jazz Press and has been commissioned by trumpeter Rex Richardson for performances at international music festivals in Australia, Portugal, China, and the U.S. Taylor is an active member of the creative music scene in Richmond as a member of No B.S. Brass Band, Mingus Awareness Project Big Band, and as a leader of his own jazz quartet. In 2007 he formed the Taylor Barnett 10-tet, an ensemble that reflects his varied musical interests in jazz, classical, Klezmer, blues, and rock styles. Taylor's self-produced album For Someone features original compositions and arrangements for the 10-tet and is available at CDBaby.com and the iTunes Music Store.