An Interview with Dave Holland

On March 23, legendary jazz bassist and composer Dave Holland will issue his latest work, Pathways, introducing the first document of his eponymous Octet on his own Dare2 Records label. Culled from performances recorded at Birdland in New York City, the album features Holland’s regular working band—Robin Eubanks, Steve Nelson, Chris Potter, and Nate Smith—with the addition of three horn players in Antonio Hart (alto sax), Gary Smulyan (baritone sax), and Alex Sipiagin (trumpet).

For Holland, a three-time GRAMMY® winner, the album is but the latest manifestation of the ingenuity he’s contributed to his craft and encouraged in his fellow musicians for over 40 years. As well, his proficiency on the bass has augmented collaborations with such artists as Stan Getz, Wayne Shorter, Pat Metheny, Herbie Hancock, and Miles Davis, the latter having summoned Holland to his band in 1968, culminating with such landmark recordings as In A Silent Way and Bitches Brew.

In anticipation of the upcoming release of Pathways, Holland offered insights to the album’s origins as well as his perspectives on jazz.

What does adding three horn players bring to your sound?

Certainly the individuals help. Their improvising style and approach to playing is a great addition to what we already have there in the Quintet players. Of course they bring some new approaches that they particularly like to work with in their music. I really like to integrate that into the music of the band. On a compositional level, it’s given me a chance to expand a little bit on the writing side of the music and to create some more full context for the music to be heard in the orchestration.

On Pathways, you revisit two songs that you’ve done in the past, “How’s Never?” and “Shadow Dance.” Why did you choose those to interpret with the Octet?

We actually had quite a big selection of music we were performing that week. There were several other pieces that we played that we didn’t decide to put on the record. I was looking to make a good album of the band. That was a strong track and it seemed to fit and work with the other pieces. And I was looking, of course, to be able to feature people in certain situations and settings. That tune fulfilled that. It’s a song anyway that I’ve revisited several times in different groups; it’s the gift that keeps giving, you might say. [Laughs]

Given the nature of improvisation in a live performance, as the bandleader how do you distinguish between a fruitful performance and of someone just winging it?

Well I’m glad to say nobody in our band wings it. Everybody goes for it no matter what they’re doing. Most musicians that have any self-respect try to do the best they can in every situation they’re in. Now, this is the nice thing about live recording, that in the course of performing for a week you have several choices often of which performance to use. And so there are times when a musician will be particularly inspired on a night or on a particular tune. And the nice thing about recording live is that you’re then able to capture it, to document it. So you make a choice. For me it’s based on which performances sound the best, which performances present the musicians who are playing and being featured in the best possible creative situation.

Do you have a preference for your bandmates as far as them having technical skill over intuitive playing?

No, I think the technique should serve the creative need. If technique is used for the sake of it, then of course it becomes meaningless. But certainly technique as it serves the creative impulse and ideas is important in order to express them. When we’re playing, we’re all listening to each other and being very, very intuitive about the music and anticipating where we’re going and what’s happening and really communicating on every level. To me, that’s really the most important thing, that everybody’s connected that way and listening and communicating in the music.

There’s long been a spirit of mentorship in jazz. Is that something you’ve tried to do as well?

It’s not a self-conscious thing; it’s just a part of the way that the tradition is in the music. I was helped by musicians when I came up and I’m still being helped and informed. I’m learning from my fellow musicians as we go—people coming up with new ideas or somebody’s heard something—and we talk about it and they turn you on to it. So the mentoring goes on all the time. Do I seek it out? I have some teaching activities that I certainly take very seriously. I’m an artist in residence at a couple universities and that part of it is an important part of my activities, to pass on experience and try to communicate what I’ve learned and pass on the heritage just as has been passed on to me.

So that’s how it continues. And I’m certainly interested in keeping in touch with young players and what they’re doing. But when it comes down to it, it’s about the player and what they’re doing and the quality of their work. That’s the most important thing for me. Of course mentoring is part of the tradition of this music in all kinds of forms, sometimes in a formal way when you’re teaching in a classroom or sometimes in a discussion with a player after a gig…[Though] if you’re talking about mentoring in terms of instructing, I don’t do that at all really. Robin Eubanks—one of the guys in my band—said something like, “Dave just winds the band up and lets it go.” I thought that was kind of an apt description in a way.

That entails a lot of trust, doesn’t it?

Of course. It’s all about trust. Any leader, whether it’s in business or in music or whatever, you need to trust the people who are working with you. You need to feel confidence in them and empower them and give them a chance to show what they can do. This is the same thing, really. I’m just trying to create a setting where everybody can explore their creativity. And I choose the musicians. That’s the big choice to make, finding musicians that are sympathetic to the music that we’re going to be playing and who have the ability and the generosity to support other players in a collective way. So all these qualities are things that I think about before I ask somebody to be a part of a project. Once they’re in the band, for me it’s an important thing then to trust them, to trust my decision on asking them to be there, and to give them as much room creatively as is possible within the music.

Do you still get the same sort of rush you’ve always gotten when a live performance goes over well?

Oh yeah. When the band’s really clicking on a high and intuitive level, you come away from the performance that you’ve really achieved something as a group as well as individually. That’s the greatest feeling.

Read on...

An Interview with Sonya Kitchell

Only when the topic turns to guys and their heartbreaking ways does Sonya Kitchell sound like any other nineteen-year-old girl. In all other respects, the Massachusetts-native singer/songwriter conveys a sense of purpose and self-awareness that belies her youth.

She evoked aspects of that sophistication on her eloquent 2006 debut, Words Came Back To Me. Yet, as illustrated on her current sophomore effort, This Storm, Kitchell has broadened her creative canvas to explore a wellspring of sound and substance. “I wanted to make a record that felt more expansive,” she says, “and more interesting musically and [one which] had a little more depth politically.”

Her versatile talent and fortitude resonated early on with Herbie Hancock, in whom she found an invaluable source of insight and assurance. “He’s been a really big mentor and person in my life in the last year or so,” Kitchell says. She’s toured at length with the jazz legend as well as having worked with him on River: The Joni Letters, his 2008 Grammy-winning Album of the Year.

Presently headlining her own tour, Kitchell discussed This Storm, expounding on the craft and conviction with which she invested the work.

This being your second album, how do you measure your progress as a songwriter?

A lot has changed. And one of the more obvious changes is that when I wrote my first record, a lot of the songs I hadn’t yet experienced. There were life things that I was writing about—from and about the people around me or things I projected or things I imagined or things I’d seen—[but] hadn’t lived myself. As two or three years went by, I started to live all of those songs and understand them more deeply. And then on this record, it was more from personal experience.

Also, it’s very important for me that songs make people feel and that there’s a political element in records, because I feel there is a lot that needs to be touched upon right now and a lot that’s going on that needs attention. That’s always been a desire of mine to focus on. And I think on this record, moreso than on the last one, that’s present. Hopefully, on the next record, it’ll be even more present. But as a writer I’ve been able to incorporate that a little more this time.

You recruited Malcolm Burn (Peter Gabriel, Emmylou Harris, John Mellencamp) to produce the album. What did he bring to help facilitate your creativity?

He brought a huge amount to the table. He has a way—I wouldn’t say he has no patience for things—but, [more like he believes] you just do it. Whether it was getting a take or anything, it was all about the raw emotion rather than the perfection. We didn’t fuss around with things forever. The vocal take, I was singing it the same time that the band was playing. And it was fun working with someone who’s just such a mad scientist, who pushes you in a great way.

There seems to be an underlying theme of impermanence, fleeting love as well as the shortness of life. Was that a theme you consciously wanted to write about or is that something that just came out?

That just came out. I did not consciously mean to do that, and you’re absolutely right that that’s something I tend to focus on. But no, I didn’t mean to do that.

In songs in which the lyrics don’t explicitly convey a sadness or melancholy, your vocal often does.

That’s unintentional, too. Yeah, that’s just there.

Even on songs like “Here To There,” songs that aren’t necessarily sad…

Well, even that song is sad, actually [Laughs]. It’s about a lover who’s far away and it’s like, you’re here and I’m there or I’m here and you’re there. Who knows what’s gonna happen and how it’s gonna work out?

“Robin in the Snow,” with its imagery and the sentiment—“Who will miss you when you’re gone?”—is quite evocative.

I was sitting in the kitchen, looking outside. It was February, I think, and it was snowing, freezing cold. I saw this bright red robin and it was really beautiful. Then I realized it was going to die… because it was February and cold. How could it possibly survive? So that was the trigger for the song, the idea [of] who will miss you and who will miss me? It’s definitely a question we ask.

How has working with Herbie Hancock affected you?

He always encouraged freedom and freedom of expression. He would say to me, “That’s what I love the most about your singing is that you’re not afraid to experiment and you’re not afraid to fall on your ass, even though you don’t.” That’s the way he plays and that’s what he really loves in other people’s playing: that abandon and trying and not being afraid. To have someone like him tell you that you can do that and you’re good at it is huge and very liberating.

It’s got to be encouraging.

Very encouraging. He gave me a lot of confidence. When I started working with Herbie was when I went into the studio [for This Storm]. And even though I made a rock ‘n’ roll record, I was getting from the jazz end of things that if it was good music and you’re true to it and you’re passionate about it and you’re honest with yourself and not afraid, then [the album] will be good. That was really huge for me.

What’s the sentiment behind “Soldier’s Lament?” It’s certainly sympathetic to the soldier.

It’s about the idea that we don’t want to see something that we believe to be glorious fail. We only want to think about the accolades and wonder that goes with winning battles and fighting wars. When someone falls, we look the other way because it’s a reality we don’t want to accept.

In “Borderline,” you seem to be dissuading against apathy. Is that a fair analysis?

Sure, yeah.

Do you think that that mood is changing—in the context of the election?

I hope it’s changing; it’s hard to say. Elsewhere in the world, I think people are almost more excited for Obama to be president than they are here. I hope that’s not true, but you do get the feeling.

Is there a particular story behind “Fire?”

I was on a really terrible tour and I was really mad. [Laughs]

It comes across.

It’s about a few people rolled up into one, really. I wrote that song about those kinds of guy musicians who go around breaking hearts. And I always like to warn my friends who aren’t musicians and don’t know them and don’t know what they’re in for: Watch out!

Dates and venues for Sonya Kitchell’s current tour can be found at the artist’s official website. This Storm is available at all retail and online outlets.

Read on...

Do It Again: Top Cover Songs of 2007

Something intriguing occurs when an artist or band takes on someone else’s song. The interpreter may cover that song by adhering to hallmarks of the original version, but hopefully enough distinctiveness shines through to make it a worthwhile performance and not merely a facsimile. Here are ten of the best cover songs from this past year.

10) “Can’t Get It Out Of My Head” – Velvet Revolver
Album: Libertad

One of ELO’s sweetest brews gets spiked with something a bit more virulent. Velvet Revolver plays in hard-rock mode yet preserves the original track’s melodic sensibilities. Slash stirs in a beguiling guitar performance, and the song sounds intoxicating in a whole new light.

9) “Paper Moon” – Erin McKeown
Album: Sing You Sinners

Ms. McKeown plays it cute and sassy, turning this swingin’ old song into a bouncy little ditty that would’ve made Sinatra blush.

8) “Goin’ Out West” – Queens of the Stone Age
Album: Sick, Sick, Sick [EP]

One of Tom Waits’ most fuel-injected tracks shifts into high-octane overdrive with QOTST behind the wheel. One can almost picture Waits and QOTST racing cross-country, barreling toward the same squalid destination.

7) “Stuck Inside Mobile With The Memphis Blues Again”: Cat Power
Album: I’m Not There OST

At times it seems like she’s trying to inject Bob Dylan’s inflections on this, but Cat Power can’t escape the viscous essence of her own voice. For a woman known for delivering remarkable covers, this one ranks as one her finest.

6) “Court And Spark” – Herbie Hancock featuring Norah Jones
Album: River: The Joni Letters

Norah Jones slips into this song with sophisticated ease, her sultry voice wafting above Hancock’s sparse and measured arrangement. Joni Mitchell’s songs pose a certain amount of complexity for any interpreter, but Norah Jones consummately succeeds.

5) “Longer” – Babyface
Album: Playlist

Babyface’s tender rendition of this timeless love song would have made this list by its own merit anyway, but now it holds added poignancy in light of Dan Fogelberg’s untimely passing.

4) “You Sexy Thing” – Stereophonics
Album: Radio 1 Established 1967 [UK import]

To start, Kelley Jones wails his raspy voice over a crude guitar and it almost feels like we’re in for a slow, folksy rendition of this Hot Chocolate gem. Then, at the 25-second mark, Stereophonics lay down the proverbial funk and proceed to get their ever-loving groove on.

3) “I Am The Walrus” – Bono & Secret Machines
Album: Across The Universe OST

Chaotic music and trippy effects swirl and scrape as Bono brings an unbridled ferocity to one of The Beatles most psychedelic compositions. Goo goo g’joob.

2) “Gimme Shelter” – Patti Smith
Album: Twelve

The Rolling Stones made an ominous apocalypse sound erotic and eerie. Patti Smith, with her unembellished yet poetic gravitas, makes such a prospect seem unnervingly imminent.

1) "(Just Like) Starting Over" – The Flaming Lips
Album: Instant Karma! The Amnesty International Campaign To Save Darfur

By distilling John Lennon’s original to its quintessence, the Flaming Lips impart this song with ethereal tenderness. Wayne Coyne sings it almost with a lump in his throat. His vulnerable sincerity will surely put a lump in yours.

Read on...

Picture Postcard Charms: Herbie Hancock - River: The Joni Letters

One could trace Joni Mitchell’s jazz sensibilities perhaps as far back as Court and Spark, certainly by the time of The Hissing of Summer Lawns. In the mid-to-late 1970s, many of Mitchell’s compositions utilized jazz musicians due, in large part, to the instrumental dexterity required to play them. One such musician, Herbie Hancock, now leads a brilliant tribute to Mitchell on his latest release, River: The Joni Letters.

The album features an impressive guest list, including Leonard Cohen, Luciana Souza, Norah Jones, and Corinne Bailey Rae. Also involved is saxophonist Wayne Shorter, who, in addition to having played with Hancock as far back as in the Miles Davis Quintet, has also lent his talents to some of Mitchell’s recordings. Mitchell herself even makes an appearance, reinterpreting one her past works, “The Tea Leaf Prophecy (Lay Down Your Arms).”

Rather than presenting literal translations, Hancock takes liberties in spacing out the sound of each song, giving the musicians license to improvise or perhaps to allow a vocalist to slip into a groove. A prime example of this occurs on “Court and Spark,” during which Norah Jones sings in a sparing yet sultry manner while the music sprawls on for nearly eight minutes.

Another facet of this album is how the music, even in its more liberal variations, arcs to the sonic contours of Mitchell’s lyrics. On “Amelia,” for instance, Luciana Souza’s voice, which sounds eerily like Mitchell’s on the original track, serves as a through line for Shorter, particularly, to play around. As well, Tina Turner’s refined performance on “Edith and the Kingpin” is the centerpiece of the song, while the musicians deftly compliment its sophisticated phrasings.

No one song on this album signifies Mitchell’s command with language better than “The Jungle Line.” Lyrics once buried by Burundi drums now resonate in lucid and striking fashion, as Hancock’s lone piano accompanies Leonard Cohen’s cadenced recitation.

Lyrical in their own right by way of their musical structure and sound, four instrumentals fill out the album. Although not written by Mitchell, two of those compositions, Duke Ellington’s “Solitude” and Miles Davis’ “Nefertiti,” were included because they influenced her as an artist. Incidentally, Hancock and Shorter played on the Miles Davis original, from the album of the same name.

On each song, Herbie Hancock conducts a compelling rendering of Joni Mitchell’s music and muse. River: The Joni Letters not only represents an exceptional album, but also an appropriate tribute to the most influential female singer/songwriter of the 20th century, the quintessential Lady of the Canyon.

Read on...