ALEX CLINE/KAORU/MIYA MASAOKA /G.E. STINSON

Cloud Plate
Cryptogramophone CG 121

DEREK BAILEY/AMY DENIO/DENNIS PALMER
The Gospel Record
Shaking Ray SRR-CD004

Using the human voice in improvisation can be tricky. Singing words brings with it the fear that metrical qualities will overtake spontaneous interaction; used wordlessly, its proper place among other instruments is suspect and sometimes redundant.

CLOUD PLATE and THE GOSPEL RECORD deal with variations of these snags and neither fully overcomes the obstacles. On the first CD, Kaoru – no last name – so diffuses her vocal timbres through electronics that often you lose track of the human element, especially when she seem to be expressing herself in ethereal tones that are neither Japanese nor English. Conversely, Amy Denio intones the lyrics of the gospel songs on the other session with such bright-eyed conviction, despite the instrumental mayhem behind her, that you’re not sure how much is parody and how much Pentecostal.

One leans towards the former. That’s because Denio, an on again-off again member of the Billy Tipton Memorial Saxophone Quartet, usually plays saxophones, accordion and bass, writes film soundtracks and chamber pieces, and has worked with bands like Curlew and The Pale Nudes.

Her associates here are British guitarist Derek Bailey, whose religion is more Free Music than Christianity, and The Shaking Ray Levis (SRL)’ Dennis Palmer, a avant gardist from the American South, who plays rhythmic synthesizer and samples and contributes the odd Carter Family-style harmony vocal. Still Palmer is based in Chattanooga, Tenn., where as a child he used to watch a particular religious program which featured the famous gospel quartet, the Stamps. Furthermore, while the songs may be taken from a hymnal found in a five-and-dime store, gospel music has always had an influence on innovators, with everyone from Elvis Presley and Johnny Cash and Albert Ayler and Duke Ellington having recorded religious material.

THE GOSPEL RECORD is much more POMO than any of those examples, however. Denio’s timbres may sound more like Dale Evans than ex-rockabilly turned gospel singer Wanda Jackson, but considering her vocals are frequently double tracked, separated into disparate voices, or in the case of “Joshua Led God’s Children” sung in an uncomfortable falsetto, the effects seem a little less than reverent. Also, considering that she vies for aural space on that tune with Palmer’s samples that are mid-way between sousaphone drone and Bronx cheer, it’s not likely that Denio or SRL will ever be heard on evangelical broadcast.

Throughout, Bailey produces amp-shaking distortions in higher pitches, harsh flanged guitar runs and jumbled, oscillating tones that are as mocking as the lyrics are sincere – it’s not likely he’ll be on the gospel train ay time soon either. His eccentric approach to the material combined with Palmer’s instrumental work, which includes signal-clipping in and out of focus, and rumbling, bouncing near-percussive beats, lifts the program instrumentally.

An engaging and wacky trifle, THE GOSPEL RECORD is tongue-in-cheek fun, but at barely 14 minutes, no major statement.

CLOUD PLATE may be envisioned as one though, and that’s part of its predicament. At almost 66½ minutes – with three tracks around the 13 minute mark – the otherworldly, atmospheric timbres sometimes get a bit wan. Contributing to this pallid wash is the instrumentation of the Los Angeles-based musicians.

G.E. Stinson, who co-founded the Jazz/Rock/World Music band Shadowfax, brings guitars and so-called implements to the session. Miya Masaoko who performs traditional Japanese, notated contemporary, performance pieces and improvisations with musicians such as trombonist George Lewis, uses an electric koto to produce miasmic sounds. Only percussionist Alex Cline, who has worked in bands with Stinson as well as reedist Vinny Golia among many others, brings a concentrated rhythmic sensibility to the eight tracks filled with reverberating strings and vocal tones from Kaoru, an ongoing Stinson collaborator.

Using what sounds like a vocoder to turn her voice robotic and synthesized, Kaoru’s contributions often seem barely there, and as if she’s reciting prose rather than singing. With the buzzing of so-called electronic effects and the projection of string drones dominating most tracks, much of her vocalizing is out-of- earshot mumbling. Infantile cries and ethereal tones, often distorted, are heard as well. Periodically it may be that words are part of her disconsolate sounding plaints, but precise language and sense are lost among the musical mists.

These include abrasive reverb, intentional distortion and scratched string runs from Stinson’s guitar, and ricocheting cymbal claps, metallic pings and hollow resonation from Cline’s percussion. When all these sounds, real and sampled, link to the cascade of scrapes and wiggles that characterize Masaoka’s koto turns, the effect is that of skewed gagaku music. Replication or crinkling rice paper is heard on both the first and final tracks, serving as connective tissue for real-time improvisations.

Among the ruffling chords and chromatic picking the most satisfying performance is “Naming”, which clocks in at fewer than three minutes. Yet all the tones stretched to excessive length elsewhere are presented and accounted for here. There are multi-tracked cries, whispers and shouts from the vocalist, bells and gong rattling from the percussionist, singular finger picking from the guitarist and sweeping colors from the kotoist.

“Assisted Collapse” is the other track that makes more of an impression since it’s much livelier than the rest. Mixing slanting arpeggios from Masaoka, ratcheting flams and ringing bell tones from Cline, and an underlying guitar drone which accelerates to fuzz tones and down to finger picking action, the tune logically reaches a climax then dribbles away to silence.

No one is suggesting that CLOUD PLATE could or should have been as condensed as THE GOSPEL RECORD. But briefer tracks and more succinct idea elaboration may have produced a more memorable session.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Gospel: 1.Let The Little Sunshine In 2. Heaven Will Surely Be Worth It All 3. I Miss A Friend Like You 4. The Ole-Time Religion 5. Joshua Led God’s Children 6. I’m Gonna See Heaven 7. I’m Bound Fort Land of Canaan

Personnel: Gospel: Derek Bailey (guitar); Dennis Palmer (voice, synthesizer, samples); Amy Denio (voice)

Track Listing: Cloud: 1. Ions 2. Robot Mudra 3. Mountain 4. Cloud 5. Naming 6. Visual Drift 7. Assisted Collapse 8. Face

Personnel: Cloud: G.E. Stinson (guitars and implements); Miya Masaoka (koto and effects), Alex Cline (percussion); Kaoru (voice, percussion, sound toys and effects)

August 22, 2005

DEREK BAILEY/SHAKING RAY LEVIS

Live at Lamar’s
Shaking Ray Records SRR CD-003

LIMESCALE
Limescale
Incus CD 56

Getting a handle on Derek Bailey’s recorded and performing output is like trying to grab Jell-O with a catcher’s mitt -- some sticks, but most slips away. The length and breath of the British guitarist’s almost 40 years of musical associations just as a committed improviser is staggering in breadth and unconventionality.

Bailey has said that he considers ad-hoc musical activities essential, and he always appears to be ready, willing and able to play with anyone at any time. Over the years his partners have ranged from those as recognized as fellow EuroImprov theorizers such as drummer Tony Oxley and saxophonist Evan Parker and Peter Brötzmann to unique throw downs with a potpourri of lesser-known solo players, dancers, DJs and even head-banging rhythm sections.

These two CDs fit snugly into the later exploratory category. While some may find it odd that he’s on a live date recorded in Chattanooga, Tenn. with a weirdly named local duo, in fact Shaking Ray Levis’ Dennis J. Palmer on synthesizers and Bob Stagner on percussion are veteran improv associates. Not only have they worked with Bailey previously, but they were also the first American group on his record label.

More notable is the creation of Limescale, a cooperative group featuring Bailey on side with two British Free Jazzers -- clarinetist Alex Ward who is also part of bassist Simon Fell’s SFQ band -- and bass saxophonist Tony Bevan, who in his solo and trio outings has created a modern voice for the unwieldy beast usually confirmed to Dixieland bands. But it’s the other two participants who really show Bailey’s acceptance and courage. Fancifully named T.H.F Drenching improvises on the Dictaphone (sic), while Sonic Pleasure hits the bricks in a way most striking unionists wouldn’t recognize.

Unmasked, the two actually come from other musical areas that admix with jazz and Free Improv. Sonic Pleasure -- real name Marie-Angélique Bueler -- is a Manchester-based composer of so-called serious music, who has tested her improv chops with Fell and woodwind master Mick Beck. A fellow Mancunian, T.H.F Drenching is the stage name adopted by Stu Calton, guitarist in alt-pop band Pence Eleven, when he creates freely improvised musique concrète with his Dictaphones. He too has had improv experience with Fell, Beck and trombonist Gail Brand, who is also part of SFQ.

Back in the U.S.A., despite some sonic overlap between Bailey’s electric guitar and Palmer’s synthesizer, the sounds are more-or-less clearly delineated. Still there are points where it appears as if being near the birthplace of Southern Fried Boogie Rock adds a harder and more metallic cast to the guitar’s solos. He won’t be mistaken for Duane Allman, but then again he’s never been mistaken for any other guitarist during his more than 50 years professional career.

On “Dietrichson”, for instance, the distorted oscillations from his volume pedal eventually mate with the distended reverb washes arising from Palmer’s synth. No beat monger, Stagner varies his strokes from standard time to irregular beats, occasionally crackling the ride cymbal for effect. Sanguine, with stuttering rhythm guitar chording elsewhere, there’s one section just before the end where it appears as if Bailey is using delay to transform himself into a flat-picking guitar army as Palmer lays on the organ chords.

A churchy organ riff completes the penultimate section of “Catfish Night” as well, but for most of the tune the keyboard man relies on less conventional tumult. There’s the spinning massed drone that seems to include the whap of a fan belt that he often shows off. However, that sound often resolves itself into atmospheric rocket launching suggestions and burbling space tones when the guitarist goes the opposite route, worrying single notes with Appalachian thoroughness. If Palmer extends his undulating sound base, Bailey merely uses his reverb to amplify top-of-fretboard investigations and Old-Timey flailing, letting the synth create the feedback that by rights should come from his effects pedal. The distortion pedal is only on tap at the end, raising the volume for some buzzing feedback, complementing similar wavering aural data from the keys, and completing the rhythmic thump from Stagner. Before that, the drummer mostly confines himself to cow bell pealing, brush strokes on the hi-hat and friction between two wooden drumsticks.

Throughout this concise CD of a little less than 27¾ minutes, the mood reflects the more mellow properties of Free Improv.

LIMESCALE would never be described that way. There’s so much happening at the same time during the six titles on the disc, that at intervals it appears as if there’s no central focus at all. Luckily Bailey & Co. are able to keep these tendencies in check.

One of the overriding truisms on this almost-61-minute CD, is how absolutely distinctive and individualistic Bailey’s guitar licks are. There’s never any doubt as to who is holding the plectrum. Conversely it’s surprising how conventional Dictaphone and brick sounds appear in this context. Drenching’s appliance simply becomes another horn along with the two reeds; while Pleasure’s bricks provide the rhythm, with her technique striking them the way a percussive vibist like Lionel Hampton or Terry Gibbs would treat his axe. Resonating rattles and crashes put her output midway between that of a limited drum set and a vibraharp with the motor turned down very low.

The only real departure from this occurs on “Charity singles ball”, the CD’s longest track. Here there are points when the chiming tones of the masonry resemble those from glass test tubes, a carillon, or a wooden desk. Meantime the horn section is respiring out a Greek chorus of honks, with Drenching adding a queer, high-pitched vocalization to Ward’s shrill timbres ranging from double-tongued trills to upper register screeches on top of multiphonic, huffing mouth percussion from Bevan. Irregular staccato picking is Bailey’s contribution, at least before he ends the tune with arching feedback distortion, while Pleasure somehow replicates the sound of log drums and unselected cymbals spinning on the ground.

Elsewhere it’s probably the Dictaphone noises that suggest the squeals of a miniature pooch, the gasping of a monkey, and sibilant Daffy Duck timbres. That links the fowl trills, ear splitting whistles and frequent elongated squeals to clarinet territory. That is, except for a time when Ward creates a liquid laughing solo, expanded with key clicks and ghost notes on “The army stuffing its drum”, and on “French archive”, where his tone turns so legato that it almost resembles that of an outside Buddy DeFranco.

If there’s one disappointment here it’s that far too often Bevan’s parts seem limited to puffing out subterranean rhino snorts, creating split-toned, liquid raspberries evidentially forced from the bow of his horn, or producing rhythmic tongue slaps to emphasize the beat. Segregating him in traditional bass territory means that the octave jumps and higher-pitched pyrotechnics he’s displayed elsewhere are kept under wraps.

Then again, there may be enough cacophony on call, considering that when Drenching’s Dictaphone manipulation doesn’t result in either a whistling wind section role -- shared with Ward’s unattached gooseneck altissimo blowing -- it exhibits the static oscillation of mass-produced office machinery. Drenching’s heavy-breathing mouth refrains passed though the miniature item could be dispatches from Bedlam as well, and perhaps that’s all the anarchy in the U.K. the five wanted on the session.

Between the anvil-like offbeat rhythm of the bricks plus the horns’ shrieking undulations when colored noises aren’t being forced through them, this could be the perfect soundtrack for a very British political demonstration. Yet whether he’s playing expressive rhythm guitar fills or sounding out irregular tones from beneath the bridge, Bailey, in contrast, goes about his job as distinctively, competently and unperturbed as an old time Bobbie.

As a left winger Bailey would likely despise the comparison. But that’s what happens when you, like the Bobbies, have evolved a distinctive persona unaffected by the different situations in which you’re found.

It’s also why investing in these examples of Bailey’s collaboration is as valuable as picking up any of his other CDs.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Lamar’s: 1. Dietrichson 2. Catfish night

Personnel: Lamar’s: Derek Bailey (guitar); Dennis J. Palmer (synthesizers); Bob Stagner (percussion)

Track Listing: Limescale: 1. Bürger plus 2. French archive 3. The army stuffing its drum 4. Charity singles ball 5.Academy now! 6. Titles by drenching

Personnel: Limescale: Alex Ward (clarinet); Tony Bevan (bass saxophone); Derek Bailey (guitar); T.H.F Drenching (Dictaphone); Sonic Pleasure (bricks)

November 17, 2003