Slippery Rock! (Hot Cup Records)
Mostly Other People Do the Killing
Released January 22, 2013
AllMusic Favorite Jazz Albums 2013
YouTube:
https://music.youtube.com/playlist?list=OLAK5uy_kbj2eoxH-mgpxaCfJ_xzWAagr5wzRcghQ
Spotify:
https://open.spotify.com/album/11Vab4buL4l1gh98a4ULbK?si=oxWYJ8RZQou_PgTPhuKh2Q
About:
Mostly Other
People Do the Killing is frequently typecast as one of today’s most humorously
irreverent young jazz groups, based in no small part on their provocative name,
which was inspired by a quote attributed to inventor Leon Theremin—a survivor
of the Soviet gulag who exonerated Stalin because “mostly other people did
the killing.” Bassist and founder Moppa Elliott (born Matthew
Thomas Elliott) has repeatedly insisted in interviews that the band isn’t
actually intended to be irreverent however, as much as it is anti-hero worship.
The quartet’s rebellious spirit and wry sensibility is deeply rooted and
readily apparent, well beyond its name. Released exclusively on Elliott’s Hot
Cup Records imprint, the band’s four previous studio recordings offer a
maniacally post-modern take on the tradition, willfully embracing the DIY punk
aesthetic to “kill yr idols.” Reinforcing this attitude, its album
covers have repeatedly parodied iconic jazz sessions from the past:
2007’s Shamokin!!! recasts the bold typeface design of
drummer Art Blakey’s A Night in Tunisia (Blue Note, 1960);
2008’s This Is Our Moosic restages the group portrait of
saxophonist Ornette Coleman’s This Is Our Music (Atlantic,
1960); and 2010’s Forty Fort sends up the pastoral scenery of
drummer Roy Haynes’ Out of the Afternoon (Impulse!, 1962); while
its sole live release for Clean Feed Records, 2011’s The Coimbra Concert,
emulates the stark chiaroscuro of pianist Keith Jarrett’s The Köln
Concert (ECM, 1975).
Despite the high-brow tomfoolery, the group boasts a truly phenomenal cast,
whose quicksilver interplay has been perfected by years spent together on the
road. Trumpeter Peter Evans and saxophonist Jon Irabagon, 2008
winner of the Thelonious Monk Saxophone Competition, make a wickedly
capricious frontline, while Elliott and drummer Kevin Shea form an
elastically resilient rhythm section. Evans’ staggering instrumental virtuosity
and affinity for experimental extended techniques is paralleled by Irabagon’s
chameleonic delivery; together they seamlessly juxtapose circular breathing
motifs, multiphonic outbursts and vocalized textures with contrapuntal
harmonies, minimalist refrains and familiar quotes, referencing the entire jazz
continuum all at once. Playing both in and out of time, Elliott and Shea
further amplify this maximalist aesthetic, with the leader’s robust bass lines
underscoring Shea’s ramshackle trap set deconstructions at every turn. Heading
into previously uncharted territory, Slippery Rock! is the
self-described “terrorist bebop” band’s fifth studio recording.
All About
Jazz: Almost all of Mostly Other People Do the Killing’s (MOPDtK) album
covers (other than its self-titled 2004 debut) mimic the appearance a classic
jazz title, yet the newest release, Slippery Rock!, does not, instead
parodying a tacky, fluorescent-colored 1980s vinyl record jacket. Why the
change?
Moppa Elliott: Well, there was no specific album I wanted to parody for
this one, so we did a parody of an entire era. The idea was in part inspired by
the colored suits that graphic designer Nathan Kuruna found at Target…
AAJ: Although Slippery Rock! is purportedly inspired by
“smooth jazz,” it sounds as strong and uncompromising as the rest of
the group’s oeuvre. When interviewed by Kurt Gottschalk in the spring 2011
issue of Signal To Noise, there was mention that these new pieces were
first premiered live using keyboards and electric bass. Can you elaborate on
how the tunes changed from inception to recording?
ME: I originally thought that the keyboards and electric bass idea would
lead to some new musical material for us, but instead it was a barrier. Peter
felt most strongly about this, but after we talked about it for a while, I came
around and agreed that the interaction between the four of us can continue to
grow and develop without changing instruments or having Jon and Peter play
keyboards. I wrote the original versions of most of the tunes on Slippery
Rock! with that instrumentation in mind, then rewrote them for the
original instrumentation. I found that very little changed when I took out the
keyboard parts and that the stronger tunes worked in both contexts. There were
a few that I wound up cutting since they didn’t work without the keyboards or I
just wound up not liking them.
AAJ: Most of the new numbers are aesthetically consistent with previous
efforts, yet there are definitely a few that break from convention. The slinky
ballad “President Polk” unfolds with piccolo trumpet and sopranino
saxophone soaring high over a sinuous groove, emulating (according to the press
release) the erotic R&B of artists like Prince and R. Kelly. The conceptual
touchstones for that track are fairly obvious, but perhaps you can illuminate
some of the album’s more obscure references, such as the Chris
Botti and Kenny G elements that are supposedly part of the
opening cut, “Hearts Content” or the driving melodicism that
underscores the tuneful closer “Is Granny Spry”?
ME: I bought about 30 smooth jazz albums and immersed myself in that sound
world for a while (that sounds hilarious to say). So the R. Kelly tune is the
most obvious, but all the tunes are an attempt to write in the idiom, but
without specific references. I listened to a lot of Kenny G, Chris
Botti, Dave Koz, Najee, David Sanborn, Grover Washington
Jr., etc., and tried to write the kinds of songs they wrote, just like I
usually do for ’50s and ’60s-style jazz on the previous albums. I think that
finding the “obscure references” in our music is like an Easter egg
hunt for the listener in which the harder you look, the more you’ll find. I’m
surprised to hear that the last tune has “driving melodicism,” but
that’s cool. I also think that when a composer or musician tries to explain
their music by telling a story about what it “means” that it takes
away from the music. I could tell any weird story I want right now about what
“Is Granny Spry” is about, and some of it might be true, and some of
it might provide some insight into “how I compose” but none of it
would make the recording sound any different in a fundamental way… it would
just be playing with listeners’ subjectivity. That was the whole point of
naming the songs after towns in Pennsylvania… that way I can completely avoid
the subject of what the songs are “about.” That might be escapist or
pretentious, but I like it. Honestly, does me telling you that
“Sayre” was inspired by a lick that Gerald Albright plays
tell you more about the music than the fact that I am related to the Sayre
family? Either way, the tune sounds the way it sounds and different listeners
will hear different things.
Jon Irabagon: I just wanted to add that from my perspective, it’s been
interesting using the groove/funk/smooth jazz material and reference points as
a home base as opposed to the departure material. In the entire history of the
band so far, various eras of swing and more traditional jazz have been the
starting points, and the members of the band allow (or don’t allow) themselves
to reference other genres or eras. However, with Moppa’s writing
on Slippery Rock!, the home base now is the former departure material. It
has been both a challenge and insightful into my own playing/improvising/point
of view to flip the script.
Peter Evans: As a trumpet player there are a lot fewer reference points
for me in the music you mention than for the other guys. There’s not too much
trumpet in a soloistic context in pop-jazz after the 70’s other than the
obvious reference points, like Miles Davis’ ’80s work and subsequent
clones of that type of Harmon mute-with-reverb thing. Then there’s the more
recent stuff like Rick Braun and Chris Botti. But I certainly don’t
feel I can do much of anything on the trumpet that will immediately “dial
in” a reference to erotic R&B the way the rhythm section instruments
or the saxophone can. I feel in this newer set of music my role is mainly some
sort of running commentary from outside the music-material universe we’re
dealing with. I’m not really a fan of smooth jazz trumpet other than as an
economic and cultural curiosity, so there’s not too much of a reason I would
reference it. I played a Harmon mute-with-reverb solo on “East
Orwell” from This is Our Moosic and told Moppa that’s the only
solo like that he’s going to get from me, ha ha.
AAJ: Considering the band’s debt to the all-inclusive, post-modern jazz
continuum initiated by such artists as Rahsaan Roland
Kirk and Charles Mingus, do you ever worry that the quartet’s
perceived reliance on humor might overshadow the individual members’ merit as
innovators, or do you see a parallel with movements/scenes like New Dutch
Swing?
ME: I don’t think we rely on humor at all. There is certainly levity and
humor in our music, but a lot of that is based on the listener’s knowledge and
perspective. I don’t think a listener completely unaware of jazz and improvised
music (i.e., a Justin Bieber fan) would find any humor in our music at all. We
think certain things are funny, and some people think those same things are
funny, and other people don’t. I think the music is strong enough and complex
enough and interesting enough to be captivating to people on a variety of
levels, and hope that no one is simply listening to our music to find
“jokes.” Juxtaposition can produce humorous effects (check
out Whose Line Is It Anyway), but it can also produce collage and
abstraction. The Dutch were and are a big influence on us, but their humor is a
bit different. Willem Breuker can be “silly” in a way we
rarely are, as can Han Bennink, but we have a different perspective
because of our childhoods and education. Not as much ’80s pop with them…
JI: As Moppa said, humor (in this case) relies on a person’s references
and what they might view as “normal” or “acceptable” in a
jazz performance. A jazz musician not familiar with the Dutch history would
find something that, say, Kevin might do completely weird, unnatural, or
“incorrect.” But even a layman that has investigated that type of
music or performance art or something of the sort could see that some of his
actions may be part of a continuum of thought, or an extension of a philosophy
behind music or performance. The said jazz musician would simply dismiss this
as humoristic, but the person with the wider view on what art can or should be
wouldn’t find it funny.
PE: I agree with a lot of what the other guys have said—humor, like a lot
of things, is just a matter of perspective. I have definitely been frustrated
by all the talk of our music being “funny.” Humor, or why something
is funny, is a notoriously hard thing to talk about so I won’t try to define
our band’s sense of humor or why we think playing “All Things You
Are” like comatose West Coast Jazz guys for 15 minutes without variation
is compelling to us. It seems like part of what you are referring to is deeply
related to our collage approach; the humor for us and for a lot of people has
to do with the juxtaposition of unexpected elements.
Juxtaposition isn’t necessarily meant to be “funny,” and it has
broader roots than just comedy. In the case of music by Jaki Byard or
the Art Ensemble Of Chicago, it seems to me that part of the idea was to
articulate a continuum of Black music—in other words, elements are thrown into
collision with one another because they belong together, not because
they don’t. I feel that way about the Don Pullen/George Adams music
as well. And all this stuff had been hugely influential on me and I suspect
other guys in the band, although I wouldn’t say that’s how we always conceive
of juxtaposition. We are coming from a much different place. I always cringe a
little when the Dutch scene is brought up as if it’s a uniform club of
musicians all doing the same thing, i.e., a movement. Kevin Whitehead’s book is
very detailed in its attempts to distinguish the different musicians and their
histories. A collage-type of approach is talked about quite a bit though, and I
think it’s this aspect that leads people to think music by ICP Orchestra or Clusone
Trio or the Ab Baars trio is “funny.”
What bothers me is how this often equals “insincere” for people. A
classic example of juxtaposition or collage playing is My Name Is Albert
Ayler (Black Lion, 1963), the Albert Ayler live session with the
Danish rhythm section (Ab and a few other musicians cite this as an influence
in New Dutch Swing), and it’s definitely something to think about. Ok,
from a traditional standpoint it “doesn’t work”; the rhythm section
can’t meet Ayler even halfway and there is a profound disconnect. From an
“artist intention” point of view, it’s a failure. From a more
sound-object oriented way of listening, it’s great. At least I think so. For me
the importance of the advances made in collage based or high-risk juxtaposition
improvisation from all the people I mention above is that they have helped
reclaim these kinds of structures as things that can be intentionally worked
with and deliberately employed to create new music. It requires that everyone
is on the same page and understands (as Jon talked about) that ignoring
everyone else and playing something totally contradictory to the other three
guys actually serves a larger purpose in opening up the large scale structure
and sound-world of the music. And yes, it can also be funny.
AAJ: Although founded in 2003, the unit’s roots can be traced back to the
late 1990s, when you and Peter Evans studied together at Oberlin. Moppa, how do
you manage to maintain the ensemble’s collective identity, while still serving
as its primary composer and leader
ME: MOPDtK’s origin is in 2003, since the quartet is dependent on all four
members for its identity. Peter and I had some fun precursor bands in school,
but nothing like what MOPDtK was or has become. The collective identity IS the
group, so I don’t need to manage it in any way… actually, I’m not sure I
understand this question. I write tunes for us to play, but we never play what
I wrote exactly anyway. I pick the set list, but sometimes get overruled within
the first measure. I count the tunes off, but that tempo might not ever
actually happen. So I’m not really sure what I manage to maintain. I guess as
the bandleader I have to deal with hotels and interviews and logistics and
setting things up, most of which involves sending emails, not exactly an
artistic expression.
AAJ: In a similar vein, how does each of the band member’s different
personalities and stylistic predilections influence your writing?
ME: Ah… well, I learned pretty early on that if I write anything that I
want to be executed exactly, I’m in the wrong band. I take for granted that
nothing I write will ever be played as written, but all of the elements will be
used… so I try to write simple melodies and harmonies and forms, so that the
tunes can be broken up into recognizable pieces and rearranged. I assume that
Kevin will never play straight time, except when we least expect it, that Peter
will ignore the melody from time to time and launch into screechy or farty
noises, and that Jon will pretend to play what’s written but change harmonies,
articulations and timbres constantly. Oh, and I will usually play the root, but
not always.
AAJ: What are your thoughts on studio recording versus live performance
and how does that affect your playing in each situation.
ME: Both are very different. On this last recording we were all in the same room,
which helped create a little of the energy we have playing live, but every
situation is different. In the studio, there are obvious barriers between the
musicians, which tend to make studio recordings more risk-averse, but in live
situations the sound can be just as challenging. Sometimes we can hear each
other really well, and sometimes not, and we’ve all learned how to perform with
this group in pretty much any context. Each environment will alter the music in
major ways, but we try to find a way to make any situation we are in work.
JI: The collage pieces that we play live don’t work in the studio,
especially when we are trying to get new material down. However, the other elements
that MOPDtK use regularly are still in play, like genre-shifting, sabotage, or
insertion of standards, pop or classical songs.
PE: Part of it is the classic problem of atmosphere, energy and
hard-to-define things that differentiate playing in a silent box from playing
in a crowded room with people we don’t know. We have never been a band that’s
rehearsed much so by default most of our time playing together is in
performance. It takes some effort to get used to the studio vibe and for
whatever reasons we seem to play better in short, focused bursts rather than
sprawling collages. In a performance the time limits of the pieces are often
felt/determined by the set length, whereas in the studio we are often looking
at four or six hour oceans of time. It doesn’t help us much in terms of
concision.
AAJ: Recalling MOPDtK’s dynamic live performances, Kevin is the most
explicitly absurd (an heir apparent to Han Bennink, even), Peter is the most
subtly subversive, while you and Jon tend to fall somewhere in-between. Despite
the comedy, your roles are obviously incredibly technically demanding, as
demonstrated by kaleidoscopic juxtapositions of multiple tunes. Can you explain
the basic parameters of that collage-oriented concept?
ME: Well, there are about 40 tunes of mine in our repertoire, and any of
them is fair game at any time. That being said, I think we all get a lot of
satisfaction out of playing very cohesive music sometimes and very chaotic
music other times. We do that by listening to each other and maintaining
awareness of what everyone else is doing. Frequently someone will try to cue
one of the tunes and no one will go with them, which is fun, so we all have to
have faith that each person can make something cool happen on their own, even
if they are abandoned by the rest of the group… that happens a lot. There are
also a ton of standards that show up in our sets, some of which are
arrangements we have and others are spontaneous. Since we all listen to a lot
of the same music, we can choose to go with someone or against them when they
reference a specific composition, mine or otherwise.
Kevin Shea: I want to respond to the Han Bennink reference. I love Han
Bennink… however, it seems whenever a drummer does something
“theatrical” in a jazz environment they are accused of being an heir
to Han Bennink. As a kid, before I even knew who Han Bennink was, I was going
to Motley Crüe concerts—Tommy Lee had a drum set on a platform that would float
out over the audience and then turn upside down during his power rock drum
solo. Tommy Lee would also bungee jump off of his drum platform into the
audience. That was far more “explicitly absurd” than anything I have
ever seen Han Bennink do. I was also a fan of Samuel Beckett’s plays growing
up, and his “explicitly absurd” choreography has been far more
inspiring to me than Han Bennink. In addition, before ever knowing of Han
Bennink, I was performing compositions like John Cage‘s Theater Pieces—succumbing to theatrical
consequences that may have often appeared “explicitly absurd,” but
were in fact to me very compassionate, without intention, and ZEN.
When I finally learned of Han Bennink, I had already been doing
“explicitly absurd” theatrics based on a variety of influences—Han
Bennink seemed normal to me. Other drummers don’t hump stage monitors and do
headstands on bass drums because they are too intimidated by their context and
have absolutely zero background researching, investigating and
participating in the broader spectrum of modern art… their close-minded,
god-fearing educators should be fired—for, little do they know, they are
in practice perpetuating a student-base unconsciously indoctrinated with not
only a lack of compassion but a deep disgust for diversity—these are the
beloved tenets of warmongers, and everything I protest against as a drummer,
artist, human. In any case, I love me some Han Bennink.
AAJ: As a related follow-up, although individual solos are part of the
group’s aesthetic, collective improvisation is even more predominant,
especially in regards to the frontline’s thorny interplay. Can Jon and/or Peter
elaborate on their alternately complementary and contrasting approaches?
JI: The main goal in this ensemble for me during the improvisation is to
keep things moving forward, never letting things settle (unless that’s a
temporary proactive choice). Further, I’m not necessarily into the idea that a
solo or improvisation has to make a consistent linear line, definitely not all
of the time. So choosing to jump in, in the middle of one of Peter’s ideas, or
laying out for an excessively long time when it might make sense to join in, is
an attempt to keep shifting the flow of a piece. Sometimes it works out really
well, and sometimes it creates a hole that we (or I) have to dig myself out of.
But that kind of tension/weirdness is supported, accepted and sometimes looked
for in this band.
AAJ: A common complaint about post-modern music is the potential for
eclectic artists to lack a consistently recognizable sound (tone, phrasing,
etc.). Although sonically fascinating, do you ever worry that so many
schizophrenic shifts in mood, style and technique could be counterproductive to
developing a distinctive voice on your respective instruments, or do you see
such approaches as their own means to an end?
ME: I completely disagree with the premise of the question. I think that a
musician’s “distinctive voice” is easier to hear in a wider variety
of circumstances… you can hear the same musician from different perspectives.
I think that the way in which a musician navigates the changes of mood and
feeling, however rapidly, exposes more of their inner thinking about music than
only performing in controlled situations does. If we are lucky enough to have
“distinctive voices,” and I think we do, it is because we are able to
expose so many of our influences and move beyond them. Every musician is just a
walking collection of influences and exercises, and we have all tried to use
elements from as many sources as possible, so our voices emerge as personal
edits of all the music we have heard and played. A lot of jazz musicians are
limited by their education and narrow musical world view, and I think that
makes a distinctive voice more difficult to come by… I mean, come on, how many
indistinguishable jazz tenor saxophonists are there?
JI: I completely agree with Moppa on this.
PE: I actually do think that the growing trend of musicians trying to
“be able to do anything” poses some real problems along the lines you
are referring to. I find myself less and less concerned with this as time goes
by (I think I felt pressure to be able to “do anything” as I was
leaving music school), and although I still play in a fairly broad range of
situations, I’m more interested in cultivating and developing something (a
voice? a sound?) that’s flexible and adaptable (very important if I plan to
continue improvising) while at the same time allowing me to feel like I’m being
myself. It’s hard for some people to believe but navigating through a variety of
material in one piece actually feels very natural for me and I don’t have to
“step outside of myself” in order to oscillate between diatonic
melodic shapes and white noise on the changes to “Misty.”
Sometimes I do think about multiple perspectives or narrator voices (like
shifting between first person narration and an omniscient 3rd person) as a way
to access the material in different ways. This stuff crosses my mind not while
playing but more when just reflecting on why certain things feel natural to me
and why others don’t. I recently watched John Butcher play a solo
concert and it really blew my mind—he worked with a much narrower range of
materials than I was expecting and somehow instead of presenting an
encyclopedic range of saxophone sounds in the course of his pieces, he
presented some kind of metaphorical representation of that same thing. This
kind of “deepening” rather than “broadening” approach
appeals to me very much. I know I’m not explaining this idea of instrumental
performance as a metaphor very well… still working on it.
AAJ: Jon, you’ve just launched your own label, Irabagast Records with two
very different inaugural releases: Unhinged, the sophomore effort from
your newly revamped Outright! Quintet, following the group’s 2008 self-titled
debut for Innova Records); and I Don’t Hear Nothin’ But The Blues
Volume 2: Appalachian Haze, the visceral follow-up to your powerhouse duet with
drummer Mike Pride, I Don’t Hear Nothin’ But The Blues (Loyal Label,
2009). Considering Moppa has run Hot Cup Records since 2001 and Peter founded
his own imprint, More Is More Records in 2011, did you derive any wisdom from
them on how to run a label?
JI: Yes, I’ve asked them for a lot advice and just a general view on what
that whole world is like. It’s a completely different thing than trying to get
gigs or working on music, and the only way to figure that stuff out is to go
through it, though having people around who have done this same type of thing
definitely helps.
AAJ: As label proprietors, what are your thoughts on the state of the
recording industry at large, especially in regards to archival hard copies
versus ephemeral downloads?
ME: I really like the idea of music contained in an object. The idea of
“collecting” appeals to me and others, and even as files replace CDs
in the marketplace, vinyl is making a comeback, and I think there will always
be certain people who want to collect music as an object. That duality
(object/vibration in air) has been around since notation began, and I think
that objects will be around for the foreseeable future, just not as the primary
drivers of the music economy. As archival devices, everything but vinyl is
pretty temporary, and even that has a couple of centuries, max, so as
technology changes, so does the archival strategy.
In a certain sense, MP3 files are just as archival as LPs or CDs; they are
storage mechanisms for a thing that exists really only as vibrations in air.
The challenge for the recording industry and for us is to continue to find ways
to make money making music. If the sales of recordings are no longer enough to
sustain a career, other revenue streams need to be explored, and the live
performance is still the most consistent for us… it’s really only The
Beatles that can get away with never performing, and they were already
retired road warriors when they stepped off stage…
JI: I think one of the advantages to running a smaller label is that you
aren’t dealing with the sheer numbers that a huge label deals with. You can be
(and have to be) smarter about the budget, etc. because it’s most likely your
money that’s going into the product, not some company’s. There will always be
people out there that want to have a physical copy of a record, and you can
cater to them by having just a few hundred or a thousand or so copies of your
record to sell at shows or over the internet. I think that the duality of
having both physical and digital music available is a good thing as different
people like receiving and listening to their music in different ways. So far,
I’ve sold just as many physical copies of my new records as downloads, so I
wouldn’t be too quick to pull the plug on a physical product as of yet.
PE: I’ve only put out one thing and it sold out, although there were only
1000 copies. We’re on a very small scale. I have two things coming out soon so
it will be interesting to compare. I really like listening to recorded music
and I still buy and listen to a lot of it, so I’m making records partly to
generate work but also just because I really like making and listening to
records. Commercially available recorded music has been around for only 100
years but people act like it’s a naturally occurring phenomenon and can’t
believe it’s going away. It was nice while it lasted, but obviously things are
changing. Unfortunately the systems surrounding the recording/music industry
(studios, recording equipment, booking agencies, music magazines) still exist
and seems fairly intact—which makes it hard to figure out how to work if you
don’t put out records!
KS: I don’t have a record label, but I want to chime in. Record labels
should stop releasing the CD/LP formats, and instead offer objects that people
can actually use in real life with download codes. In my opinion, there is no
reason why there shouldn’t be a MOPDtK line of socks or totebags or t-shirts
with download codes sewn in them. For the people who want to pay more, they
could get a rake with a download code. If I ever start a label, my idea is to
have one copy of my release available… it will be a download code tattooed on
a pig somewhere on a farm in eastern Slovakia. The person who wants to hear the
record will have to go on a quest to find this pig in order to hear my label’s
release. Labels need to be more creative with their merch, and by doing so they
will inspire consumers to think differently about the nature of their hollow
desires. I’d rather inspire a person to be a consumer and a member of
society, rather than just a consumer isolated with a record in their den. Put a
download code on some sunglasses, encourage a person to go outside…
AAJ: And finally, beyond jazz, are there any contemporary non-jazz based
artists you find inspiration in?
ME: El-P, Mastodon, R. Kelly, Punch Brothers, The Neptunes, MF Doom,
Ludacris, Meshuggah, Janelle Monae.
PE: Right now: Gene Rodenberry, Anton Webern, David Foster Wallace.
KS: Composer Jonathan Harvey died recently… I’ve been having a hilarious
time listening to his piece “Wagner Dream” (Cypress). Also I’ve been
enjoying the piece “Dienstag Aus Licht” by Stockhausen (CD number two
from Karlheinz Stockhausen’s album, Dienstag Aus Licht Vol. 40). It looks
like it was a totally nuts production/staging as outlined in the extensive
liner notes.
Troy Collins (All About Jazz)
Track Listing:
1. Hearts Content (Moppa Elliott) 06:25
2. Can’t Tell Shipp from Shohola (Moppa Elliott) 06:00
3. Sayre (Moppa Elliott) 07:06
4. President Polk (Moppa Elliott) 04:36
5. Yo, Yeo, Yough (Moppa Elliott) 04:41
6. Dexter, Wayne And Mobley (Moppa Elliott) 05:27
7. Jersey Shore (Moppa Elliott) 05:49
8. Paul’s Journey to Opp (Moppa Elliott) 03:34
9. Is Granny Spry? (Moppa Elliott) 08:55
Personnel:
Peter Evans: trumpet, piccolo trumpet
Jon Irabagon: alto saxophone, sopranino saxophone
Moppa Elliott: double bass
Kevin Shea: drums
Recorded April 9 – 10, 2012, at Oktaven Audio
Producer: Moppa Elliott
Engineered and Mixed by Ryan Streber
Mastered by Seth Foster
Artwork: Nathan Kuruna
Review:
Mostly Other
Peopele Do the Killing is back! And with it the rightly slandered genre of
smooth jazz. This quintet’s fifth studio album was penned by MOPDtK
bassist Moppa Elliott after a lengthy immersion in the smooth jazz
recordings of the late 1970s and ’80s. Elliott extracted certain idiomatic
phrases, harmonies and embellishments from this superficial and commercial
style, incorporated into his own compositions and used all the quartet members’
encyclopedic knowledge to shed new light on this often maligned sub-genre.
Fortunately, Elliot and the other virtuoso co-conspirators of MOPDtK—
trumpeter Peter Evans, saxophonist Jon Irabagon and
drummer Kevin Shea—never surrender to smooth jazz clichés or conventions,
except for the shocking colors of their suits, captured on the sleeve photos.
The group capitalizes on almost a decade as a working band, enjoys breaking
down structural elements, sudden changes in tempo, feel and meter, and sneaking
in some surprising references, this time ranging from composer Joseph Haydn to
minimalist icon Philip Glass.
As on its previous studio albums, MOPDtK opens with a drum solo over a vamp on
“Hearts Content,” later turned into a fiery call-and-response between
the two horns. On this composition already MOPDtK signal that it is about to
trash any known Kenny G clichés and expand the vocabulary of the
genre to unimaginable territories. The composition titles are still inspired by
the funny names of towns in Pennsylvania, as “Sayre,” that was
founded by relatives of Elliot, a compositions based loosely on transparent
compositional conventions of smooth jazz, but the quartet’s tight, often
chaotic interplay avoids of turning these conventions into a caricature.
Other
compositions are kind of left-of-center tributes. “President Polk”
draws inspiration from R &B artists like Prince and R. Kelly, but mutate
the idiomatic use of extreme high registers to connote emotionality in this
genre with inventive and playful solos from Evans, on piccolo trumpet, and
Irabagon, on sopranino sax. The energetic, Lenny Pickett-inspired
“Yo, Yeo, Yough” features solos from everyone in the quartet, while
“Dexter, Wayne and Mobley”—obviously another tribute to great
saxophonists Dexter Gordon, Wayne Shorter and Hank
Mobley—is but a platform to express Evans and Irabagon’s innovative language
and extended techniques.
MOPDtK even mange to root “Paul’s Journey to Opp” in a muscular,
swinging four-bar vamp, rare in its repertoire—or, for that matter, in smooth
jazz. Elliot’s schizophrenic compositional style is emphasized on “Is
Granny Spry?,” jumping from a typical smooth jazz vamp to Evans’ clever
quotes from Haydn’s Trumpet Concerto, spiced with Irabagon’s nervous sax
squawks.
This wild and playful reinvention of the often dismissed genre of smooth jazz
takes its clichés to another level. But more important it establishes MOPDtK as
one of the most original and resourceful bands of our day.
Eyal Hareuveni (All About Jazz)
