Chris Morrissey Quartet at the Artists' Quarter: Concert review

When: August 1 2009 • Where: Artists’ Quarter • Who: Chris Morrissey, bass; Michael Lewis, saxophones; Bryan Nichols, piano; Dave King, drums

Because I don’t follow indie rock, I don’t know Chris Morrissey the indie rocker, whose bands include Ben Kweller, Mason Jennings, the Bill-Mike Band, Wishbook (formerly Cowboy Curtis), and Haley Bonar. I first heard of Chris Morrissey the jazz musician/composer last July when HH and I went to Maude because Dave King was playing there with Chris Thomson, Bryan Nichols, and some guy named Chris Morrissey. Who turned out to be a tall, rather thin young man with long, elegant fingers who plays the bass like he’s serious about jazz. In fact, he calls jazz his “original passion.”

Back then the quartet was in the midst of recording a CD, and this weekend was the official Minneapolis/St. Paul CD release for The Morning World, just out on Sunnyside, not too shabby. Morrissey is from here, recently moved to NYC to “get another city under his belt,” came home to launch his CD and promises to return one day to live. We’ll see.

At the crowded AQ, we hear originals by Morrissey and just one standard. Something slow and measured to start; probably “The Skinny Part of Idaho.” “Midland Picnic Area,” which Morrissey introduces as “a tribute to a part of the country without a lot of songs written about it," is a high-energy piece that Nichols takes even higher with his piano solo, after which Lewis plays like a man possessed and King is two drummers or maybe three, and suddenly the air sparks and crackles with swing.

“The Morning World Is Waiting,” the title track, pulls the tempo back again so everyone can breathe. It’s a bright-eyed ballad, pretty and sweet.

The tunes are on the short side, like pop songs. The melodies aren’t familiar so it’s easy to think there’s a lot of improvising going on amid skeletal composition until you notice that Morrissey and Nichols, or Lewis and Nichols, are playing long runs of notes in unison. The music is tightly composed, compact, intricate, with room for invention.

“October Aught Four” starts off unhurried and thoughtful, then picks up speed and intensity. It feels sunny, optimistic. “Electric Blanket” is full of big chords and brand-new. “We learned it yesterday and played the world premiere” [at last night’s AQ show], Morrissey says. “This is the second world premiere.”

He introduces “The Curious Habits of Harold Hill” by telling us that he played the part of Winthrop in the Chanhassen Dinner Theater’s production of The Music Man “when I was young.” (Everyone laughs; he’s 28.) His father was Chanhassen’s music director. The tune is layers of repeated rhythm—first in eight pairs (da-da, da-da), then six—over which Lewis’s saxophone floats and soars. Most tunes seem to feature the saxophone, though that could be an illusion caused by the fact that Nichols, Morrissey, and King all stay in the same place while Lewis paces the rest of the stage, always on the move, so that’s where your eyes naturally go.

[Aside: While King is playing with the Morrissey Quartet at the AQ, the other two members of his band The Bad Plus are at the Village Vanguard, with Paul Motian on drums. Read Nate Chinen's review here.]

For “None is the Number,” Lewis starts on soprano sax (he plays soprano, alto, and tenor tonight) and Morrissey takes his first solo on the bass, accompanied by Nichols. This is the only tune of the night that sounds heavily influenced by Reid Anderson of The Bad Plus, not that I’m complaining.

Introducing “Mountain Don’t,” Morrissey tells us a story from his childhood, when he looked up to Lewis as the coolest guy he knew. (The two grew up together; their moms are friends and both are in the house tonight.) Trying to impress Lewis, Morrissey told him he drank Mountain Dew. Lewis replied “Mountain don’t, man,” and a song was born. “I wrote it ten years ago,” Morrissey says. Not bad for 18. The first half swings hard, Morrissey takes another solo, then there’s a sudden shift into a slow, thoughtful mood, as if another tune has been grafted on. Nichols spells out an old-fashioned melody, Morrissey bows his bass, King switches to brushes and now it’s something Bill Carrothers might play. (Carrothers, as it happens, is sitting at the bar.)

“The Sub Prime Sword Claims Another,” sharp and angular, gives way to “Take the Coltrane,” the one standard of the evening. Everyone stretches out in a lengthy solo—including King, in his first solo of the night—and it’s as jazzy as anything ever has been.

[For City Pages, Andrea Swensson wrote: "What blew me away at Saturday night's show was how each of the four players' talents were showcased without ever drawing too much attention toward one musician... Because of this, Morrissey's compositions themselves became the star of the show." What she said.]

“If Rushmore Should Fall” is the last tune on the CD and the end of the show. Starting out gloomy-doomy on arco bass and piano chords, with Lewis playing questions on the saxophone, it picks up speed and volume, has second thoughts, and sighs. Called back for an encore, Morrissey says, “That’s all the songs we know.”

There's a feeling all night that we're hearing something special and new, something that can go places. It's hard to make a full-time commitment to jazz these days, especially when, like Morrissey (and now Lewis, who has been playing with Andrew Bird), you're in demand by rock bands that draw bigger crowds and paychecks and can tour. So it's understandable that Morrissey is playing this Saturday (at Tiffany's in St. Paul) with Wishbook and the Bill-Mike Band, and will soon go out again with Kweller and then Jennings.

But I hope The Morning World isn't a one-off. Jazz needs people like Morrissey, who can move between genres with confidence and sincerity, commitment and joy, without compromising.

Photos by John Whiting. T to B: Morrissey, Lewis and Morrissey, Nichols, King

Bill Carrothers: One of a kind

When: Friday and Saturday, Dec. 26–27, 2008 • Where: Artists’ Quarter • Who: Bill Carrothers, piano; Gordy Johnson, bass; Kenny Horst, drums

Maybe it’s because he makes his home in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, where he rides snowmobiles and goes blueberry picking with a shotgun in case he and a bear meet at the same bush, that Bill Carrothers’ playing is full of space, even when his notes are stacked in chords and linked in long glissandos. Maybe it’s because he lives outside an old copper mining town called Mass City (population around 600, one general store, one blinker light) and plays mostly in Europe that it doesn’t feel tied to a particular place or time.

Hearing him over a weekend at the end of December at the AQ, I’m reminded again of how unique Bill Carrothers is. He’s avant-garde and traditional, serious and playful, free-flying and grounded in history (maybe because his full name is William Gaylord Carrothers III—thanks for that fact, jazz.com). You never know where he’ll go next, whether within a live set or on his recordings.

This weekend he has three new CDs available for sale, which he mentions only in passing but Davis will gladly tell you about at the door. The Voices That Are Gone: The Music of Stephen Foster is an art-songs collaboration with cellist Matt Turner and Carrothers’ wife, Peg, a vocalist. Play Day is a children’s CD that includes a loving ballad arrangement of the old Oscar Mayer song (“Wiener Mood”). Home Row is straight-ahead piano trio goodness; recorded in 1992, it features Gary Peacock on bass and Bill Stewart on drums. Writing for the New York Times, Nate Chinen suggests we treat Home Row like a modern recording and forget that it sat on a shelf somewhere for 15 years.

On both nights we hear standards transformed into originals by Carrothers’ passion, improvisational skills, vast musical knowledge, far-ranging intelligence, and sly wit. “Wrap Your Troubles in Dreams,” “Billie’s Bounce” (which ends with a quote from “In Walked Bud,” played fast and loose), “Blue Evening,” Billy Strayhorn’s “Blood Count,” “Moonlight Serenade,” and a delightful “All of Me”—dusted off, reinterpreted, and kicked in the pants.

Then “Nature Boy.” Carrothers thinks about this one before he begins, fingers poised, head bowed. He becomes very quiet. It starts as a solo piano piece, a beautiful rumination. Kenny Horst comes in with mallets and a soft, persistent beat; Gordy picks up the melody on his bass. It’s breathtaking—a song everyone has heard countless times yet it feels like the first time, yet it’s suffused with the past and tradition and all who have gone before. Played with reverence and grandness, it ends with a wordless poem. No disrespect to the AQ’s piano but I’d love to hear Carrothers on a Steinway someday.

“Just You Just Me.” “Call Me Irresponsible” (with lots of notes). “This Is Worth Fighting For,” a WWII recruiting song that blends “America the Beautiful” with “Amazing Grace” and “The Christmas Song.” “So in Love.” A lush and lengthy series of chords that seems headed toward “When I Fall in Love” but ends up somewhere else. Gordy and Kenny are hyper-watchful; it’s clear this night is going wherever Carrothers wants to take it, not by a set list. “Con Alma.” “Rhythm-a-ning.” “One Hand, One Heart” from West Side Story.

Sometimes Carrothers seems to forget he’s part of a trio and plays like he’s alone. Perhaps he forgets us, the audience, as well. Maybe it's because he takes off his shoes and performs in his stocking feet that he seems so comfortable, so at home. The night ends with “Thanks for the Memories,” and I think of Bob Hope and his USO Christmas shows and our service men and women still overseas and I’m pretty sure that’s where my mind is supposed to go.

We can stay for only the first set on Saturday, long enough to hear “You and the Night and the Music” (tender, reflective, tinged with sadness), more “Moonlight Serenade,” a not at all wistful version of “Autumn Leaves,” “My Old Kentucky Home” (a tune from his new CD with Matt Turner), a “Let It Snow” that morphs into “I’ve Got My Love to Keep Me Warm.” Whatever Carrothers wants to play. A phrase from Kenny Werner pops into my head: Effortless mastery.

Watch Don Berryman's video of "Blood Count" from Friday night.




Photos to come.

Red Planet with Bill Carrothers

When: Friday, August 1, 2008 • Where: Dakota • Who: Dean Magraw, guitar; Chris Bates, bass; Jay Epstein, drums; Bill Carrothers, piano

Warming up for his next European tour, pianist extraordinaire Bill Carrothers is playing three gigs in the Cities this week: at the AQ on Wednesday, at the Dakota on Thursday (a solo show), and again at the Dakota on Friday as part of the late-night series. I’d see all three if I could but we can only make the late-night show.



The longer they play, the happier Magraw becomes. I learn later that this is the first time his trio has played with Carrothers, and Magraw loves every minute. (Toward the end of the evening, he sits behind Carrothers, points at him, looks out at the audience, smiles from ear to ear, and says “Bill Carrothers! That f****** guy!”)

The music is amazing. Playful, creative, tuneful. Blues, standards, Monk’s “Let’s Cool One.” Improvisations during which Epstein plays the edges of his cymbals with knitting needles, or something close to knitting needles. Magraw and Carrothers negotiate with each other about what to play, and no matter what they decide, Bates anchors it and holds it steady.



As the evening progresses—this is after all the late-night show, this is Minneapolis—the audience becomes smaller and more devout. An exquisite solo from Carrothers ends it all. That guy.


Photos by John Whiting.

Jim Rotondi

When: 4/5/08
Where: Artists' Quarter
Who: Jim Rotondi (trumpet and flugelhorn), Bill Carrothers (piano), Tom Lewis (trumpet), Kenny Horst (drums)

New York trumpeter Rotondi doesn't make it to St. Paul very often, and neither does Carrothers, so when the two perform together it's must-see jazz.

On the first tune, "It's You or No One," Carrothers is already playing as if he has spent the past several hours practicing scales and doing finger push-ups. He alternates between explosive runs and Zen-like calm.

On "What's New," Rotondi swaps trumpet for flugelhorn and Carrothers quotes "Honeysuckle Rose." I'm reminded of the need to pay close attention when Carrothers plays. As with all jazz (all music, for that matter), you can choose to sit back and let your mind wander while the music becomes background and still have a fine time, but you'll miss a lot, including the entire history of jazz and pop culture, which Carrothers brings to every performance and tosses in as if it's no big thing.

He is one of the least self-conscious performers I've ever seen. He sings out of tune while he plays in his stocking feet. He's a handsome guy but doesn't care if you can see him or not. Tonight he spends part of the first set behind a black metal music stand that blocks him from view by a large part of the crowd. Howard Gitelson, who wants to shoot pictures (as many of us do), takes advantage of a break between songs to ask if he can move the stand. Carrothers says sure.



"Easy to Remember" starts out as "But Not for Me," Monk's "Evidence" includes some "April in Paris." Clifford Brown's "Gerkin for Perkin" (great song title) gives way to "They Can't Take That Away from Me." Rotondi sounds terrific and he's enjoying himself.

Carrothers takes a solo and it's Mr. Toad's Wild Ride through the James Bond theme, "The Meaning of the Blues," Civil War tunes, and who knows what else; by the time my brain searches my memory of tunes to identify a theme or passage I'm hearing, it's long gone and has been followed by five more. I imagine if I were sitting closer, behind his chair (Carrothers never uses a bench, always a chair), I would hear his synapses firing.



The night ends with a fresh take on a familiar standard, "Without a Song." Carrothers storms the keys and Rotondi's brass is high and clear. Horst takes his big solo, starting on the high hat and cymbals, moving to the bass and toms. I wonder (as I have many times) why the drum solo always comes at the end. Carrothers closes with the "Jeopardy" theme.

Get a taste of the evening with Don Berryman's video:



Photos by John Whiting. Top to bottom: Rotondi, Carrothers, and Lewis, who's usually (like most bassists) in the shadows. Nice shot, Johnny.

And the Band Played On

I'm not having the musical hallucinations Oliver Sacks describes in Musicophilia. But I can't get the old song "The Band Played On" out of my head. Not the melody itself, but the lyrics of the chorus:

Casey would waltz with a strawberry blonde,
And the band played on.
He'd glide cross the floor with the girl he adored,
And the band played on.
But his brain was so loaded it nearly exploded,
The poor girl would shake with alarm.
He'd ne'er leave the girl with the strawberry curls,
And the band played on.

Most recently, I heard this song when Bill Carrothers' Armistice Band performed it as an encore at the Artists' Quarter. It was written in 1895 (words by John F. Palmer, music by Charles B. Ward) and dedicated to the New York Sunday World newspaper.

The waltzing part I understand, and the band playing part. But what does "his brain was so loaded it nearly exploded" mean? What an odd phrase. Sometimes "loaded brain" is used to describe an intellectual, but the other lyrics don't give any hint of that meaning. Casey is a guy who forms a social club and hires a hall where he and his friends can dance with their sweethearts every Saturday night.

I sent an email to John Kenrick, author of The Complete Idiot's Guide to Amateur Theatricals and webmaster of Musicals101.com. He replied:

As I've understood the lyric, it meant that dancing with his "strawberry blonde" gave Casey ideas -- so many ideas that his brain nearly exploded.

The song itself was a Tin Pan Alley creation that became famous in the early years of vaudeville. In fact, the inventor of vaudeville, Tony Pastor, made the song a trademark feature in his own stage appearances.

Thank you, John.

The music. Verses are in 2/4 time, the chorus is in 3/4 (waltz) time.

Bill Carrothers' Armistice Band U.S. Premiere

When: 1/5/08
Where: The Artists' Quarter
Who: Bill Carrothers (piano), Peg Carrothers (voice), Jean-Marc Foltz (clarinets), Matt Turner (cello), Gordy Johnson (bass), Dre Pallemaerts (drums), Jay Epstein (percussion)

After previewing this show for MinnPost and reading Britt Robson's glowing article about in the Strib (which I would gladly link to here, except you'd have to pay to read it after three weeks) and Andrea Canter's piece on Jazz Police, I expected a crowd. In fact, it was SRO at the AQ, something that doesn't happen nearly often enough. Much of the audience was other musicians. Laura Caviani, Pete Whitman, Mary Louise Knutson, Phil Aaron, Chris Lomheim and his wife, Emily, Lucia Newell, James Buckley, Michael Lewis, Chris Olson, Mac Santiago, Miguel Hurtado, and Javier Santiago were all there—and those are just the ones I saw. We tried to imagine who was left to play piano gigs around the Twin Cities that night. Peter Schimke was at the Dakota; he came to the AQ after. Tanner Taylor must have been all over town.

Carrothers' Armistice 1918 suite was even more powerful in person than on the recording. We journeyed through optimism, death, and despair. While I love the more traditional piano-bass-drums trio, the other instruments—Turner's eloquent cello, Foltz's expressive clarinets, Epstein's limitless percussion array (which included a tart pan, beans in a bowl, goats' toenails, what looked like vacuum cleaner hoses, and something he later told me is called a Remo Spring Drum)—added great texture and dimension. And Peg's voice rose pure and clear above the music, even when it was buzzy and dark. Her version of "I Didn't Raise My Boy to Be a Soldier" was devastating.

As an encore, they gave us "And the Band Played On" in a spooky David Lynch version. It was perfect, and in response, we gave them a standing ovation. Which was small thanks for a concert so epic and virtuosic and satisfying that it should have commanded and filled a much larger space. I heard the band had approached other venues and been rejected; Armistice 1918 was judged too old-fashioned, too anti-war, irrelevant. I heard the Walker turned them down. I recently read an article about a dance series at the Walker (again in the Strib, sorry, no link) in which performing arts curator Philip Bither said, "We consciously did not want to go back. These are the artists you see in the future." Maybe to Bither, programming Armistice 1918 would have meant "going back," but to those of us who sat still and silent, taking in as much as we could, it was about as modern and immediate and forward-looking as music can be.

Bill Carrothers' Web site is the only place you can buy much of his music including Armistice 1918.

Photos, top to bottom: Carrothers, Foltz, Turner. Photo of Matt Turner by John Whiting.

MinnPost: Bill Carrothers's Armistice Band Preview

Minnesota native turned Michigan resident and world traveler Bill Carrothers brings his Armistice 1918 project to the Artists' Quarter on January 4–5.

I previewed this show for MinnPost, before which I spent a lot of time listening to the double CD (thanks to Don Berryman for loaning it to me). I'm glad my editor let me write about it because it's not exactly a ho-ho-holiday program or theme.

In an email interview, Carrothers (who was in Italy at the time) told me about the band he's bringing to the AQ:

"The bass chair is being played by Gordy Johnson.... The European musicians [Jean-Marc Foltz on bass clarinet, Dre Pallemaerts on drums] are coming to the USA to record a CD of children's music with Peg and I. We thought it would be nice to play the AD1918 music since everyone will be there. It will be the US premiere.

"Dre Pallemaerts and I have been playing together for over 10 years, in trio, with AD1918, and in other people's groups. Matt Turner lives in Appleton so it's not that big a stretch for him to come. He was on the original CDs (as a blind date, I had never played with him before) and I loved his playing from the moment he picked up the bow. Jean-Marc Foltz was recruited for the AD1918 project when we started touring in Europe. I had heard him play before and he's incredible. Jay was on the recording and I picked him because I knew he would provide the perfect sound effect backdrop for the music, which he did. I knew Jay would be committed to the emotional content of the music and his participation was, and has been, vital to the success of the music.

"Peg was the logical choice for the vocal part because she sings great, and she understood the material and how to float over it as the Angel of the Battlefield. I had to be on it because they needed someone to look sexy on the cover and to make the sandwiches and beer for the session."

On the recording, the track called "Christmas 1914 (Silent Night)" (about the brief truce that took place between British and French troops and the Germans on Christmas Eve) was performed by the Knob Creek Choir, which consisted of the musicians who made the album (Carrothers, his father, Jay Epstein, etc.), the engineer at the studio, and several of Carrothers's friends including Davis Wilson, the longtime doorman at the Artists' Quarter. Carrothers explained that the choir was "named for the bourbon we were drinking the night we sang."

First must-see of 2008: Bill Carrothers' "Armistice 1918"

Originally published on MinnPost.com on December 21, 2007

Jazz pianist and composer Bill Carrothers has been a history buff since childhood. At age 10, he spent time with a World War I veteran and friend of his grandfather, taking in the old man's stories. As a boy growing up in Excelsior, he was fascinated by World War II. His interest in the Civil War was piqued by the Ken Burns documentary that first aired in 1990, and the fact that his great-grandfather was a lieutenant in Robert E. Lee's Army.

Meanwhile, Carrothers became a musician, taking piano lessons from the family's church organist, studying with Twin Cities legend Bobby Peterson, spending a year in the jazz program at North Texas State, moving to New York to try out the jazz scene there, then returning to the Midwest to settle in Michigan. (Listen to some of his work here.)

Today he makes his home in the Upper Peninsula but plays most of his music in Europe, where he tours frequently. (MinnPost caught up with him while he was in Messina, Italy.) Like many American jazz artists, Carrothers has found European audiences more accepting and supportive.

His early recordings include "The Blues and the Greys" (1993), a collection of Civil War-era songs. "One might think that Civil War music would be a rather abrupt change (from jazz), but it's not," Carrothers explains. "One of the things that makes jazz standards so appealing is their open-endedness and malleability. The same can be said of Civil War music."

Raves from the French

And for World War I music. In June 2003, Carrothers brought a group of musicians to Creation Audio in Minneapolis to record a two-CD set for release on the now-defunct French label Sketch. Supported in part by funding from a war museum in France's Somme region, Armistice 1918 won raves and the 2004 Grand Prix de l'Académie Charles Cros, France's Grammy. Writing for The New York Times, Ben Ratliff called it "an ambitious work of repertory and imagination." Jazz magazines around the world included it in their Top 10 lists.

Armistice 1918 will be performed in the United States for the first time on Friday, Jan. 4 and Saturday, Jan. 5 at the Artists' Quarter. Forgive me; it's not exactly holiday cheer we're spreading here. But MinnPost goes on break the week between Christmas and New Year's, so this is my first chance to alert you to the first must-see jazz event of 2008.

Inspired by the work of Great War poets including Wilfred Owen (killed in action in Belgium at age 25), Armistice 1918 is a two-disc tone poem to World War I, poignant and deeply moving. It begins with the relative innocence of 1914 and songs of a man and woman in love ("Hello Ma Baby," "Cuddle Up a Little Closer"). The sweetness ends with the call to arms, separation ("Say Au Revoir"), and a sense of hope and purpose ("America, I Love You") that turns quickly to foreboding.

Disc 2 takes us to the front with popular tunes ("Roses of Picardy") and haunting, jarring originals and group improvisations ("Trench Raid," "No-Man's Land," "Funk Hole"). We hear death, disillusionment, devastation and despair. The closing track, "Armistice Day," is the sound of distant bells and, finally, silence.

A family affair

The recording features Carrothers on piano and his wife, Peg Carrothers, on voice. She sings on several tracks; her pure, clear soprano floats and soars. Bill calls her "the Angel of the Battlefield," and I couldn't imagine Armistice 1918 without her. Also on the recording: Matt Turner (cello), Drew Gress (double bass), Bill Stewart (drums), Jay Epstein (percussion), and Mark Henderson (bass clarinet).

For the Artists' Quarter engagement, Peg Carrothers, Turner and Epstein will return. Gordy Johnson will play bass, and the other two musicians — Jean-Marc Foltz (bass clarinet), Dre Pallemaerts (drums) — are coming from Europe. They'll record a children's CD with Bill and Peg during their stay in the States.

Plans are to play Armistice 1918 straight through in two sets, just like the CDs. With apologies to Artists' Quarter owner Kenny Horst, who's trying to make a living while keeping covers low, this may not be for you if what you want is a night of jazz as entertainment and background music. But if you're willing to listen quietly and intently — and if, as Carrothers hopes, you "come with an open mind and heart" — you'll experience the musical equivalent of a great war movie: moments of tender nostalgia, horror, irony, loss and regret, exhaustion and grief.

Armistice 1918 is about then, and of course it's about now, as increasing numbers of Americans and people around the world speak out against the war in Iraq. "I think if people studied history a bit more," Carrothers told MinnPost, "we wouldn't be so shocked by the events of today, and might be able to have a bit more perspective about our modern problems."

What: Bill Carrothers' Armistice Band U.S. premiere
Where: The Artists' Quarter, 408 St. Peter St., St. Paul
When: 9 p.m. Friday, Jan. 4, and Saturday, Jan. 5
How much: $15
Phone: 651-292-1359
Website

Upcoming picks

Sisters in Song: A holiday show by three terrific local singers: Vicky Mountain, Dorothy Doring, and Lila Ammons. Proof that you don't have to go downtown for jazz, they will perform at the Dakota County Music Café at the Holiday Inn in Burnsville. Friday, Dec. 21, and Saturday, Dec. 22, 7:30 p.m. No cover.

Frank Morgan Memorial: The great alto saxophonist Frank Morgan died on Friday, Dec. 14, not long after returning home from a European tour. Expect a brief service followed by music from those who knew and loved him. The Artists' Quarter, 3 p.m. Sunday, Dec. 23. No cover, but donations will be accepted.

The Bad Plus: Pianist Ethan Iverson, bassist Reid Anderson and drummer Dave King have made an annual tradition of performing here at Christmas time. Do not expect a holiday show. Then again, you never know what to expect from this iconoclastic trio. The Dakota, 7 p.m. and 9:30 p.m. Wednesday-Saturday, Dec. 26-29 ($28—$40).