One of the reasons that the Duo Chronicles project has been so much fun for me is that Clay and I have similar approaches to playing jazz and similar influences that guided us to that approach. “Common Roots,” for example, has a modern-gospel style, similar to something you might hear from Russell Ferrante and the Yellowjackets (the working title was “Ferrante-ish” while I was composing it).
It’s not meant to be a complex song — it’s just meant to feel good. While experimenting with complex harmonies, rhythms, and melodies can be fun for us to explore, it’s nice to occasionally play something that feels good without pushing into something esoteric just for the sake of complexity.
“Aurora” is an attempt to do something new in the Duo Chronicles project — a way to use some techniques that we haven’t yet explored in the 48 previous tunes.
The song is based on a simple melody (in fact, the sheet music we used had the temporary title “Simple Melody”) with an equally simple harmonic underpinning. If one wanted to analyze it from a jazz point of view, the form is derived from the blues, although you might not realize it without stretching your ears a bit.
The first track we recorded was acoustic piano and flute, but we layered on quite a few other instruments to fill out the sound, including piccolo, alto saxophone, bass clarinet, and electronic keyboard (playing a celeste type of sound).
If you listen carefully to the opening sound, when the screen fades to white, the chord that sounds like a synthesizer is actually a technique that Clay suggested that we record after we happened upon it by mistake while warming up. The chord is actually made by recording the resonance inside the piano made by playing saxophone pointed towards the piano while holding down the sustain pedal. It took quite a bit of audio editing to make it audible in the mix, but I think it was worth it for the interesting texture.
As we head to the final few weeks of the Duo Chronicles project, musically we have covered many different styles of jazz. This weeks tune, “Law Of Averages” has a meditative-gospel sound to my ears. Often music defies one singular category so descriptive terms are piled on and on like, acid-electronic-fusion-contemporary jazz, for example. At a certain point too many adjectives render musical description more confusing than useful. This descriptive process usually varies quite a bit from individual to individual.
The form is based around a repeated six bar chord progression that repeats and is varied somewhat to give a more through-composed feel. Subtle, but effective I think. Just to give a little bit of forward momentum. John and I both take short solos. The music doesn’t necessarily need virtuosic-type solo improvisations, shorter more thematic solos do just fine. Also, I added a track of organ, just to fill out the overall sound, a little bit of musical “glue.” John had a nice idea to trade soloing over the the final chords of the composition; some musical dialogue.
This New Orleans-inspired piece is a blues of sorts (in the Kind-of-Blue sense) with a second-line type groove. If I remember correctly, I wrote it just before a jam session, where I tried it out for the first time. Despite the simple sounding melody and chord changes, it can be a challenge to keep together on the first performance because of a time signature change in the middle of the piece. It makes perfect sense in context with the melody and the chord changes, but it can throw people for a loop the first time they read it.
Clay and I have been playing this song for a few years now, in a number of different formats, including in an acoustic combo (including with Clay’s group, the Upper Left trio), in an electric fusion group, and as a duo. In fact, we played this song on our first appearance on a podcast, when I appeared on Strange Love Live for the first time.
For this performance, we rethought the form a bit, but all of the familiar elements are still there.
True North, is thought of as the direction along the earth’s surface towards the geographic North Pole. This the title for this weeks composition. Throughout this project it has been more challenging to write about the music than to work on the music. There is no time really for analysis in the moment, one can be more objective after the fact. Not to say that I haven’t found ideas in words and their combinations, because I have. I think of true north as a metaphor for looking for truth in a direct way. In this case, true north being the path and the North Pole the destination, or the direction of travel at least. In general my aim in composing to capture the essence of a time, place and thought, which also is what recording happens to do.
In thinking about the music from the music point of view, there are elements from classical, jazz and pop in this composition. The influence of jazz, in the harmonies and improvisation, classical, in the through-composed form, and pop, in the repetition of a musical “hook” throughout. That’s just me looking through the lens however, you the listener can draw your own conclusions, and decide what sound means to you.
In the bebop era, it was a common practice to take a popular song and write a new melody over the familiar chord changes. Charlie Parker wrote many of his tunes this way, including Donna Lee (the changes are from Indiana), Ornithology (on How High the Moon), and Koko (Cherokee). For “Affirmation,” I chose to write my own “contrafact” (the technical name for a song written using this method) on a tune of Charlie Parker’s called Confirmation.
The primary motivation for playing a song like this was to have a bebop song that we could play as a clarinet and piano duet — I wanted a challenge for myself (clarinet has never been my strongest instrument, although it is the woodwind I started on) as well as a new color for the Duo Chronicles project. It turned out simple and straightforward, but at the same time fun and exactly what I was going for.
The title “The Road Taken” is based on of one of more popular Robert Frost most poems, “The Road Not Taken.” The whole idea for the music stems from a particular chord that I like to use, a major chord with the 4th added so a kind of consonant dissonance occurs between the 3rd and 4th steps in the chord. In improvising one would usually refer to the mode, in this case the Ionian mode, which is the 1st mode of major scale harmony. I like the contemplative nature of this sound, open to me, and good place to start the music from. The melody then ascends and descends alternating between major and minor chords. The improvising takes place over the form of the melody with the 1st chord extended for a bit at the beginning. I liked how this distinguished the piano and saxophone solos. If one looks at the written lead sheet there is a two measure ending. On the take that we used however, I liked just fading on two repeated chords, an ending just seemed too final. The aspect of recording influenced the form and arrangement of the composition which I find interesting. Recording becomes part of the composition process.
Quadrivium — from Latin, meaning “a crossroads. A place where four roads meet”
This composition is a modern choral of sorts, with four clarinet parts playing what might be more traditional sung in four part harmony, or played on an organ. My inspiration came from the fabulous ECM recordings of saxophonist Jan Garbarek improvising over the top of the incredible four-part vocal group called the Hilliard Ensemble. But, unlike their work, which sticks to very authentic early-music compositions, I chose to write a new piece with some modern twists thrown in.
Clay gets to play the part of Jan, using the melodica’s bright sound to cut through the darker sonority of the clarinets and bass clarinets below him. Most of his part is improvised, with a short melodic hook that happens once in the middle and once at the end.
This is a special week for Duo Chronicles — not only do we have a regular duet video to present, we also have a video of a different performance of the same song featuring a spoken-word performance by writer Lynn Darroch.
“The Memory of Water” (the title is co-opted from Lynn’s story, featured in the other video), is divided into two distinct sections. The first section has a melodic statement that repeats twice, each time through a different progression of chords. The second section has what is called a “pedal point,” meaning a repeated common tone, usually in the low register.
When Clay and I set out to record the piece, we decided that the second section of the piece might fit will with some extended techniques. In particular, Clay experiments with using different percussive effects on the piano, including an idea taken from modern classical “prepared piano” pieces that involve putting objects inside of the piano. In this case, it was a piece of paper on top of the strings.
This is a special video project, featuring a collaboration with writer/journalist/musician Lynn Darroch, who has been following our project since the beginnings and has been kind enough to feature us on KMHD and in the Jazz Society of Oregon’s JazzScene magazine. Lynn has been working on his own video projects, pairing his spoken-word pieces with jazz performances from artists such as Randy Porter, David Evans, Pere Soto, and others.
This particular video features a composition of mine from week 42 of our project, called “The Memory of Water.” The piece was actually untitled until Lynn wrote the words to accompany it, at which point I co-opted the title for the song as well. Clay and I would both like to thank Lynn for working with us on this piece.
Here’s what Lynn has to say about the piece:
When Clay and John asked to write a story to go with this composition, I immediately thought of water. And my desire to develop a magic realism suited to the Pacific Northwest. I also thought of singing whales, and though this story’s not about whales, what we know about them may well apply here …
Every year, when humpback whales gather off the Mexican coast, the males arrive singing. Early in the season, each whale’s song is short, simple and different from the others. But as time passes, they adjust; by season’s end, every whale is singing the same long, complex tune. The next year, each returns with only fragments of the previous song, but all leave singing in unison again, though the collective tune is slightly different every year.