Michael Ducey NY to Portland » Other Writers

Allan Holdsworth Plays Portland – guest writer Andrew Gorny

admin — Thu, 21 Jan 2010 14:56:04 +0000

One can never know what to expect from progressive rock side projects. Sometimes you hit a golden era in music, such as Bill Bruford’s (King Crimson, Yes) sensational fusion band, “Bruford.” Sometimes, you get a project like Liquid Tension Experiment (Dream Theater, King Crimson) whose fan base is limited to the die-hard fans of the bands it spawned from. Sometimes you get just a halfway decent set of output from musicians you appreciate, as is the case with A Perfect Circle (Tool, Primus), or Les Claypool’s Fearless Flying Frog Brigade, which although decent, doesn’t match the excellence of Les’ beloved brainchild.
There is one thing we can count on. If Allan Holdsworth gets hired, everyone gets excited.
Allan Holdsworth, one of the most underplayed guitar sensations in the world, has teamed up with Terry Bozzio (Frank Zappa), Pat Mastelotto (King Crimson, Mr. Mister), and Tony Levin (King Crimson, Peter Gabriel) for an improvisational tour which began last month.
“So you know, we were [on stage] completely unprepared, and just played whatever came to us. That’s why you probably didn’t get it.”
This sounds like a fancy way of saying “they have no idea what they’re doing,” which might be in the case of Tony Levin, which I’ll touch on later in this review, but any short look into Allan Holdsworth’s career will make it very clear that he is more than comfortable in highly advanced jazz settings, playing blistering lines through Coltrane’s “Countdown,” and writing his own tunes which consist of harmonies built from superimposed modal colors (think about George Russell and his ultimate aspirations realized), such as combining altered dominant 7th and major 7th harmonies. Theory buffs and traditionalists in music beware, these guys are not easily analyzed. These artists have worked out their own understanding of music theory, and it is nearly 100 percent incongruent with traditional practices.
It isn’t quite accessible music, especially since the only pitched contributions are being made by an extremely musically “over-sophisticated” artist (Holdsworth), and an artist who favors expressionist and dissonant sonorities (Levin). Bozzio, however, had his massive stage drum kit, filled with pitched percussion to the point of obscuring a good view of his playing. Dissonance aside, paying close attention, the deliberation from every musician onstage was absolutely clear. They meant what they were playing.
I was clearly going to this show to see Holdsworth play blasting lines the whole night, since I had waited roughly a decade to hear him live. Unfortunately most of the people in the audience were hoping that one of their heroes would shine on and on for the whole night, but none of us ever really received that treat.
Tony Levin played two roles tonight… bassist, and, for a lack of a better word, “texturalist.” His facility on both instruments is astounding, especially on the upright, which he played with such fluidity as Edgar Meyer. Much of what he played in this role as bassist seemed to be more rhythmically charged than musical. He played in typical Levin fashion, finding just the right amount of dissonance, turning it into a riff, and providing subtle but tasteful variations. Think Melvin Gibbs’ playing in the Power Tools project with Bill Frisell. After all, Tony Levin is an expert riff writer first, and improvising artist second. On the stick, he sounds as good as it gets, seeing as he set the standard for textural playing on the stick. His stick was equipped with several midi interfaces and looping effects, to help fill up space as Allan Holdsworth took the melodic role.
Allan Holdsworth was of course better than ever, as it seems his playing has taken a very sensitive side in the past 4-6 years. Especially in his soloing, Allan has become particularly expressive and melodic, playing less flourishing sheets of sound and more melodic material (think “In The Dead of Night” by UK). Nevertheless, most of Holdsworth’s output at this gig was harmonic; playing large chords harmonized at various intervals. His extensive effects unit seemed to have several intervallic settings for harmonization, and to hear him play these huge sonorities correctly shows not only how well he knows his fretboard, but also how well he knows his transpositions. Some of his voicings were harmonized on a Major 3rd. And not one of these chords sounded out of place or incorrectly voiced.
So while we have this strange Burnout-style improvising, the two percussionists are hard at work. Neither player necessarily took a solo, but were more concerned with preserving the time for Levin and Holdsworth to play over. A closer listen will reveal the necessity for two drummers, with lots of polyrhythmic concepts, to be expected from Bozzio, and hundreds of great percussive tones from Mastelotto.
The improvisation was unbroken, and there were two sets. The first set seemed to be more exciting for me, since it was more about the spontaneity than about creating good music. All of the great improvisational moments were in the first set, especially between Bozzio and Holdsworth, who have extensive experience as improvisers. Many times Holdsworth was rhythmically comping to Bozzio’s cymbal hits. And the two seemed to phrase off of each other pretty well.
One of my favorite moments was a short rubatic duet between Holdsworth and Levin. This showed both musicians’ true colors. As an expert improviser, Holdsworth seemed to let Levin take the lead and find harmonic material that would make Levin’s bass lines more musically interesting. Though the roles switched right towards the end of their duet, and Levin lucked out, ending on a wonderful inverted major 7 sharp 5 chord, eliciting a mesmerized response from the audience.
It is difficult to give a very cohesive idea of the musical content that happens at this show, since some of it is entirely experimental, and some of it is too sophisticated by my ears. For most, I think it would be difficult to tell which is which. A basic explanation is that the drummers laid down lots of syncopated 4/4 rhythms, reminiscent of Indian and eastern European music, while Holdsworth’s sensibilities gave the concert a Bartok solo violin concerto type of feel, while Levin really ushered in the dissonance that King Crimson is lauded for (think of their improvisational “Providence,” though Levin was not the bassist on that recording).
Would I recommend this show to a friend? Most definitely, but with the disclaimer that I can’t tell them what to expect at all. After all, this is improvisation. If you want to hear one of these other players really shine, then this is not the project you want to see. But expect short moments of artist profiling from each player, but mostly democratic music making for a very ambient, virtuosic but subdued, altogether exciting musical experience.

Listen to Allan’s Playing on “Looking Glass”

Hot Guitar – by Jack Wilkins

admin — Sat, 02 Jan 2010 18:04:46 +0000

By 1982 I’d been playing my Gibson guitar for over 20 years. I love this guitar! I know her and she knows me. It’s a relationship based on trust, understanding, and time. Don’t tell her this, but she was not my first or even second love.

Imagine this scenario: Eighteen years old, just out of high school, and trying to decide what to do with my life. I knew I wanted to play guitar but should I go to college and get a degree “to have something to fall back on” as my parents used to say- kind of a built-in failure mechanism if you think about it- or should I begin getting experience playing?

Colleges in those days (1962) didn’t offer degrees in jazz guitar. I couldn’t see spending four years at a college where jazz wasn’t accepted and you had to study classical guitar to get a degree. It wasn’t for me. I decided to learn by playing local jobs, practicing and asking questions, which I still do today. To supplement my income, I took a job at a local music store where I gave lessons. Not bad for the time, about $8 an hour, and 15 or 16 hours a week.

Something was wrong though. I was improving my technique by leaps and bounds. Practicing 5 hours a day can do that. The guitar I had at the time was not up to my level of play, however. I think it was an old Kay guitar. It was all right before, but I was now ready for a great instrument. Mind you, I was still too young to realize I needed a better instrument. Things I practiced, however, would not come off quite the way I heard them in my head, and I felt as if I were coming to a dead end. The answers were never far away though.

One day, as I came into the music store to teach, I saw a guitar that spoke to me – a beautiful blond pre-war, non-cutaway Gibson L-5. Rare and exceptional! Where did it come from? Was it for sale? Could I borrow it for the rest of my life? When I picked it up to play it, I couldn’t believe it! The things I practiced that couldn’t quite come off before were now perfect! I had to have it.

I asked the owner of the store, “What’s the deal here?”
He said, “If you like it so much, why not buy it?”
“How much?” I said
“Fifty dollars.”
“Fifty dollars?” I said, “Oh ok, I guess that’s fine.”

Okay? It was worth $500 dollars. I bought it and took it home and played and played and played. It was amazing. It wasn’t just great, it was divine. It was really mine and like a part of me that was just beginning to be discovered. Still, how could it only be worth $50 dollars? I took it to my repairman, guitar builder and inventor friend Ray Mattey. (Ralph Matteo was his real name). He was kind of a mentor to me and I liked him very much. He was always encouraging and helpful, you might say from the “Old School”. I love people like that. A little like Fezziwig in Dickens’s “A Christmas Carol”. He discovered a serious crack in the joining of the neck and body and told me it had to be fixed or it would fall apart some day. I trusted his judgement and said, “Okay Ray, see what magic you can perform.”

Magic is the only word for people like Ray. I didn’t care how much it would cost and Ray would always be very reasonable with me anyway. I remember that it cost $200, but it was worth every penny to have my guitar in good shape. It would be a massive repair job, however. The problem was that I wouldn’t get my guitar back for about two months. That hurt!

At about the same time in my life, I took occasional lessons from another wonderful person named Sid Margolis. Between Sid and Ray, I had two of the finest mentors a young man could have. Sid taught me many valuable techniques and shared a certain awareness that only a seasoned professional can give. Sid hadn’t heard about my new guitar so I was very anxious to tell him about it. As usual with Sid, he was very kind and listened with care and interest. As soon as I started to describe the guitar, his face went ashen. As gently as he could, he said. “Jack, that sounds like the guitar that was stolen from me some time ago.”

Now it was my turn to be ashen. I kind of panicked. If it were Sid’s guitar, I’d have to give it back to him. But what if it wasn’t? The only way to find out was to bring it to him. There was no serial number on the guitar to prove anything but Sid would know. Co-incidentally, Ray completed the repair on the guitar that day. I left Sid’s not thinking about the lesson and raced to Ray’s shop. The guitar was ready and it was beautiful! It seemed to glisten and almost seemed alive. (Wood is alive) I told Ray what a masterful job he did and explained about Sid. Ray said, “Oh no, it can’t be true. This is your guitar.”

When I arrived back to Sid’s with the guitar, my heart was beating so fast I thought I’d pass out. When I opened the case, I focused on Sid’s face to see his reaction. It was joyful. Then it was sad. I knew he felt badly about me. I realized I must give up my guitar. I suppose some people might say, “Well, you bought it fair and square and there was no proof of ownership” and so forth, but the truth was, it was his and he was my friend. The details about the man who owned the music store aren’t really important. Suffice to say the shop owner had purchased the guitar in an unsavory fashion. That’s why it was only $50.

Sid settled with Ray. Poor Ray! He had put his heart and soul into fixing the instrument for me, not that he wouldn’t have done an excellent job anyway, but somehow when you do things for someone who’s especially close, it seems to have more meaning. I felt sort of lost after that. I couldn’t go back to the music store, and I couldn’t go back to playing my old guitar.

Sid called me a few days later with a solution to everything. “Teach for me,” he said. I wasn’t sure he really needed me but I readily accepted. He would give me invaluable guidance and I would make some money. Sid had another idea. Why don’t I buy this other Gibson L-5 that he bought to replace the stolen one. It was a sunburst 1961 cutaway with a floating DeArmond pick up. Nice guitar! Very nice! “Okay,” I said, and he sold it to me for $250, the amount I would have spent on Sid’s stolen guitar anyway. Everything worked out perfectly. I taught at Sid’s and learned a great deal. I played my new 1961 Gibson and learned to love it as much as my first love. This 1961 Gibson would qualify as my second true love.

Sometime after that, a good friend named Burt Linden gave me an old Gibson L-7. It needed repair and as usual, Ray Mattey did his magic. I hardly played the L-7 because of my second love, the 1961 L-5. I kept the L-7 as a spare guitar. Of course, this L-7 is now my third and true love. What happened to my second love, the once new L-5 that Sid Margolis had sold me? Six years after I purchased it, it was stolen. I’d like to think that someday someone will give it back to me the way I returned Sid’s guitar to him. “What goes around, comes around”- right? I’m waiting.