Jul 09 2008
Sad news this morning on CBC Radio 1: Toronto fiddler Oliver Schroer died from leukemia on July 3, 2008.
I had only recently discovered Oliver’s music and blogged about it at length. Sensitive obits from TheStar.com here and here.
Jun 09 2008
The medieval concept and practice of pilgrimages stretching over months or even years - to Jerusalem, Rome or Santiago de Compostela - sits uneasily with today’s package tours and motorised travel. For the original pilgrims, though the destination (both physical and metaphysical) was important, the journey was the thing, with all its physical hardships, the hazards along the way and the shared experience, occasionally violent but mostly convivial. Today there are less onerous, probably safer and certainly faster ways to visit the magnificent abbeys, priories and cathedrals that criss-cross southern France and punctuate the various routes through northern Spain. Yet something is missed if we are accorded only the briefest of glances before the tour guide summons us on to the next step in the itinerary. Medieval men and women had the time to become absorbed, the capacity to be enraptured. (John Eliot Gardiner, from the sleeve notes to Pilgrimage to Santiago)
There’s been a slew of recordings in the last few years from musicians making the pilgrimage (the ‘Way of St. James‘) to Santiago de Compostela, a city in Spain where the remains of St. James are said to be kept. This medieval pilgrimage of potentially 1,000km or more has been made for more than 1,000 years from various originating points across Europe. Pilgrims typically walk; many cycle and a few ride on animals.
John Eliot Gardiner, renowned British conductor of choral music, and his Monteverdi Choir, undertook to walk the camino and sing in many of the churches and cathedrals along the way. These performances of 12th century choral music were recorded and released as Pilgrimage to Santiago.
In 2004, Canadian violinist/fiddler Oliver Schroer chose to walk 1,000km of the camino through France and Spain with his wife and two friends. He carried his violin in his backpack, wrapped in socks and underwear (as described in the sleeve notes (PDF), which are great). Over the course of two months, Schroer recorded himself playing beautiful improvised music in 25 different churches and cathedrals, using a Sony DAT recorder.
The result is Camino, one of the most intriguing and beautiful records I’ve heard in recent years. For me, the comparisons are the solo violin architecture of Bach’s Sonatas and Partitas for Solo Violin, the improvised classical/jazz fusion of Jan Garbarek and the Hilliard Ensemble, or even Keith Jarrett’s solo improvisations. The music is of the same ethereal quality. While it seems that Schroer’s more often associated with playing a slightly left-of-centre version of Canadian ‘Celtic’ fiddle music, there are only limited traces of that in this work. His 5-string violin soars and sings, establishes musical structures involving counterpoint and other ‘baroque’ devices, and inhabits a sonic space that can only be described as ‘classical.’ There are pieces, such as ‘The Garden of Birds and Flowers,’ where a Celtic fiddle/bluegrass sensibility comes a little more into the foreground. But it’s always tempered by what I can only call ‘the opposite of Celtic fiddle music’: the naturally beautiful acoustics of the churches put this music firmly in a spiritual light - there’s none of the rhythmic, foot-stomping, dance music intensity (not that there’s anything wrong with that…) of Ontario fiddle music.
And then I stumbled on another kind of tune. What I call the fractal tune. The material that became O2 and Camino. It had a very different quality to it. It was less of an entertainment, and more of a sacrament. This was music that came to me from a different place. Very deep, unexpected, inexplicable and spiritual. Talk of keeping me amused. It had progressed beyond amusement into spiritual practice for me. And getting back to the search for meaning, there was a lot of meaning in this music. It connected with people, it connected with soul, it expressed something profound for myself and apparently for others. It was a mystery, and a beautiful mystery at that. So that, for what it’s worth, is a bit of the story of my musical journey thus far.
Schroer’s camino music is an interesting hands-on illustration of how closely related ‘old’ music and ‘folk’ music really is. Ultimately, the similarity between Bach’s rigorous partitas and Schroer’s spirited improvisations are a matter of what informed them. Both require incredible technique, focus and musical invention. The fact that Schroer’s compositions were not written down (at least I assume they weren’t, even though his liner notes indicate that some pieces are ‘recycled’ from past projects) is actually the least significant point of difference. Going through some samples of Schroer’s earlier recorded work (http://www.oliverschroer.com), it feels as if the cathedral locations and the spiritual focus of walking a thousand kilometers in the footsteps of pilgrims have caused a shift - away from secular solo violin music (much of which already had the same technical elements as Camino) to playing music for the glory of God. (In a fitting parallel, Gardiner’s new independent record label is called Soli Deo Gloria - for God’s glory alone.) Even if Oliver Schroer notes on his website that his dialogue with God has been incomplete at best (not unlike my own, I think):
The meaning I was looking for I didn’t see or find meaning in religion either. Not that I didn’t see other people finding a lot of meaning and solace there. But somehow it was not cut out for me. And that is not to say that I didn’t have an ongoing dialogue with God my whole life long. I used to read the Bible in secret as a teenager. Always 17 verses a day. I ‘m not sure why. So I was not ill disposed toward religion. It’s just that I never found that oomph of certainty that other people seemed to get from it.
Camino is more than a violin solo recording. It’s also a clever audio document of the pilgrimage: every so often, there’s a short ambient track featuring the sounds of the trail. There are church bells, the sound of footsteps on a sandy path, voices of other pilgrims, cathedral doors. I initially thought this would be an unpleasant distraction from the music but I’ve since decided that these brief interludes are sort of like the pickled ginger when you’re eating sushi: they clear your head before the next beautiful morsel of music.
Schroer’s technique never ceases to amaze. I still remember being transfixed, as a child, by my parents’ old Yehudi Menuhin recordings of Bach’s partitas. I remember that I had previously thought of the violin as an instrument that was only capable of activating a single string at a time - I recall thinking that’s why you needed so many of them in an orchestra. Hearing the Bach sonatas and partitas jolted me out of that belief and helped me see the possibilities of coaxing harmonies from violins. Of course, Bach also opened my eyes to many other things. (And I once, during my university days, opened a guitar-player friend’s eyes to “where Deep Purple got all those guitar solos from” by introducing him to Bach’s sonatas and partitas - but that’s another story entirely…).
Oliver Schroer combines elements of classical technique with controlled harmonics (which are only enhanced by the suberb natural reverb of the Spanish cathedral acoustics), subtly ‘Celtic’ harmonies and rhythms, and a meditative, circular way of arranging his melodies - the 8-minute opener, ‘Field of Stars,’ doesn’t seem long at all. If anything, you experience a sudden longing for more once it’s over.
The recording quality also deserves commentary. It’s nothing short of remarkable what can be done with a single Audiotechnica stereo microphone and a Sony DAT recorder. This is the sort of recording that’ll make you want to get out the good headphones, or finally upgrade your stereo. I would say it’s as close to impeccable as recording a solo violin can get in a natural recording space. And it’s especially remarkable that it was made by Oliver himself without any assistance from a professional recording engineer. Even if it didn’t contain some of the most extraordinary improvised music you’ll ever hear, this record would be worth hearing for its acoustics alone.
Oliver Schroer has been diagnosed with leukemia and appears to have spent the last two years in and out of various Toronto hospitals undergoing chemotherapy. His website’s ‘Leukemia‘ section has all the details and his thoughts on this weighty subject. Suffice it to say that I hope his treatments are successful and that we’ll have Oliver Schroer around for many, many more years.
(Camino and Oliver Schroer’s other CDs are available directly from his website. Amazon.com availability seems a bit patchy.)
Feb 20 2008
Dave Matthews, particularly with the Dave Matthews Band, isn’t recognized enough for his songcraft. It gets lost under the weight of popular perception about Dave’s music, live shows and achievements: touring jam band, incredible musicianship, big sound, long shows, lots of dope smoked at every show, generally appealing to those who once followed the Grateful Dead (how those two were connected I’ve never understood). Dave’s songs also get lost a little because people say they don’t understand what his lyrics are about, and perhaps because the songs have a certain tentative complexity of rhythm and melody - a quality that makes them sound experimental but that’s actually very planned, calculated and predictable.
I’m a dedicated listener to DMB, regardless of whether it’s their studio or live records. I also tend to order all of their Live Trax releases, which are only available from the Dave Matthews Band website. And while I appreciate the bigness and crispness of the band’s sound (Stefan Lessard’s phenomenally powerful and groovy bass, Carter Beauford’s tight and tireless drums, LeRoi Moore’s muscular saxophone, Boyd Tinsley’s sweet violin and Dave’s acoustic folk guitar that somehow glues it all together), I also love Dave’s songs in their lyrical craziness and melodic, fearless musical invention (he sounds like so many singer/songwriters we know, yet completely unique, all at the same time). Dave’s songs are love songs, sad songs, happy songs, crazy party songs; songs about women, history, life, being on the road and alternate life outcomes. It’s a canon of work as varied, strange, richly developed and textured as many other great songwriters’ - Springsteen, Dylan, Paul Simon, James Taylor.
Live at Radio City, like the earlier Live at Luther College, is that rare Dave Matthews live record that leaves all the musical pyrotechnics at home and foregrounds just the songs. Tim Reynolds, Dave’s long-standing acoustic live cohort, is certainly an excellent guitar player and shines in the acoustic solos here (and, of course, Dave himself is also an under-recognized master of the acoustic guitar, providing pulsing, driving rhythms). But this is about the songs, proving that they can hang together beautifully without 15-minute jams, create their own strange poetry and be compelling, even if you don’t really always know what they’re about.
Favourites for me are “Gravedigger” with its embedded nursery rhyme, a beautiful cover version of Daniel Lanois’ “The Maker” (which is of course also incredible in full DMB live regalia), and “Crush,” to name but a few of many. Over the years, Dave’s voice has begun to sound more and more like Peter Gabriel’s in tone and timbre - it has a dark and quiet but clear command of the musical space set up by the song. It’s an expressive and instantly recognizable voice (like Sting’s or Phil Collins’) that doesn’t really fit into any specific genre. Much like Dave Matthews himself doesn’t fit into any genre, I suppose. Maybe he creates his own.
I can’t really recommend this ‘acoustic’ set strongly enough. It’s best heard together with Live at Luther College because it provides a continuation of sorts - old songs versus new songs, old sound versus new. I could sometimes do without the talking between songs (strangely, Dave - writer and singer of such deeply intelligent songs - doesn’t sound either witty or particularly bright in his ‘announcements’…) but that’s a very minor drawback.
Feb 14 2008
Tina Malia is a singer-songwriter from California who writes and performs beautiful songs at the nexus of folk, world music and new age. That may not sound terrifically appealing at first glance, but somehow she manages to circumvent cheesiness by a wide, safe margin. Instead, she dresses up her earnest (and sometimes touching) folk songs with incredibly skillful arrangements drawing on a variety of excellent acoustic musicians using traditional folk instrumentation augmented by instruments like djembes, didjeridoos and marimbas.
I can hear traces of Peter Gabriel’s world music production heyday in the title track, Sarah McLachlan in “Beholding,” a pan-Celtic sensibility in “All Roads,” and so on. While this is proudly derivative music in the sense that it acknowledges its roots and wears them honestly, I also think that Tina Malia’s songwriting and production skills are so highly developed that she more than stands on her own. For somebody this talented, it’s a conscious, intelligent choice to release her records on an independent label (best place to buy is either in Amazon’s MP3 store, link above, or at CD Baby). Those who still think major labels are the measure of quality should take a close listen and may realize this is better than much that’s come out of a major label in years.
On CDBaby, Tina is billed as a “tribal folk goddess,” which may be a good description, and her own website describes her background and history like this:
After studying sound engineering and classical vocal performance, she began her professional music career at age 18 as a producer, engineer and vocalist for a children’s music label out of Northern California. She then went on to produce two of her own recordings, and has just released her third “the Silent Awakening”. It features a rich, groove oriented, acoustic and electric feast […]
Some listeners may love the musical depth and beautiful singing and playing on this record but be skeptical about the ‘new age-y’ tone in the lyrics. There’s a Sanskrit chant (track 8, “In Sunlight”) and a lot of lyrics about love, freedom and nature (the CD booklet’s cover page says, “To those who serve beauty”). But there are also lyrics a-plenty that seem to allude to sensuality, sexuality and faith. I think there’s depth here that I’m sometimes willing to let in, and sometimes not. The overall effect is tasteful and I never feel like I’m being hit over the head with consciousness. I’ll admit that lyrics tend to be less important to me than music, though, so your mileage may vary. I’m recommending this for the music - it’s some of the best playing and production I’ve ever heard in an independently produced record.
Tina Malia’s website has more, and her albums are available at CDBaby.
Feb 11 2008
Leah Salomaa is a Toronto-based folk singer who has made two excellent CDs of folk songs for children. This is tastefully sung and played music that’s engaging for children and adults alike: it’s not saccharine like other children’s CDs I’ve heard. Leah’s voice has great clarity and beauty, and there’s an elegant simplicity to this music that’s made me listen to it again and again.
I went to see Leah Salomaa on the weekend at the Toronto Waldorf School, where she was performing a children’s concert. Leah sings and plays the bodhrán and piano while Chris Gartner accompanies her on guitar. This is done almost like a song circle, involving children and adults actively with gestures, movements and dance. Everyone gets to sing along, and Leah is excellent at getting even the most withdrawn to come out of their shells a little.
Back to the CDs, though. Both are exceptionally well recorded and sound great. The arrangements are simple and leave a lot of space for the songs to really shine. The music is a mix of Celtic, folk and bluegrass tunes, many adjusted lyrically to be more digestible for kids while not losing their charm for older listeners. For example, “Drunken Sailor” becomes “Bow Down Belinda” on I Like to Rise and Father Sun’s “Mary Mac” has lyrics that are a little less, well, bawdy than the Irish original (then again, there seem to be so many variations on the lyrics that saying anything is ‘the original’ version seems a little meaningless).
Speaking of “Mary Mac,” it’s a fabulous tune and beautifully executed here - definitely my favourite and, I think, deserving of a place in any Celtic music compilation. The verses are sung to only the beat of the bodhrán (she has fantastic pitch!) and are interspaced with superb pipes and accordion playing. It’s a toe-tapping reel for sure, and one that I’m finding myself listening to over and over again.
Leah Salomaa’s website has information about how to book her. Her latest CD, Father Sun and Mother Moon: Soulful Songs for Children (2007), is available through CDBaby. I can’t seem to find I Like to Rise (2004) anywhere online anymore (you’ll have to go to a concert to buy it). Finally, I see traces online that there was a third CD in 2000 called Celtic Trio (I’m assuming this was ‘for adults’) but nobody seems to have it for sale anymore.
Update: Leah Salomaa has since written to me to let me know that I Like to Rise is available at http://www.firetheimagination.ca (her distributor) and http://www.parentbooks.ca, a Toronto store that also sells online. The Celtic Trio album was in fact never released (the record label didn’t make it), which explains why it’s not for sale anywhere. And “Mary Mac” was in fact originally recorded for that album, so maybe that’s why it has a sound that’s more appealing to my grown-up ears :) What a treat to get mail from the artist herself!
Dec 20 2007
A few weeks ago, on a Saturday morning, I woke up to CBC Radio 1. That’s what my clock radio is set to play every morning at 6. Even though the hosts’ accents are a bit pompous and there’s a daily quota for news items about Stephen Harper’s foreign policy, I prefer these bits of highbrow programming to the canned, predictable and formulaic play lists of corporate music stations.
That morning, they were playing new Canadian music. Still half asleep, I heard a strikingly good song called “These Roads” by Dave Gunning, a singer/songwriter from Nova Scotia. I grabbed my Blackberry and keyed in ‘Dave Gunning’ so as to not miss it :)
A few days later, I went to Dave’s website at http://www.davegunning.com and ordered his latest CD, “House for Sale,” which arrived within the week (I only figured out later that it’s all available at my friendly local HMV, thinking - obviously - that I was onto something cutting-edge and indie :). It’s an exceptionally well-produced, great-sounding album. If I were pressed to peg the style, I’d say it’s somewhere between Blue Rodeo and Great Big Sea with a little Hank Williams Jr. thrown in as seasoning. It’s got a certain East Coast earnestness to it, but also a wonderful melodic clarity and precise, crisp songwriting. The arrangements are well-judged and played.
This doesn’t happen to me often, but this CD has been playing in my car practically nonstop for a few days now. I may just have been in the mood for something with a little twang (I have times in my life where no particular genre in music satisfies me and I meander around aimlessly but frustratedly until something random really resonates and I really get into it). But I’d certainly recommend Dave Gunning warmly to anyone interested in that Canadian folk-country-rock nexus or good singer/songwriters. I think it’s good enough to transcend any genre-skepticism you may have associated with ‘country’ or ‘folk.’
In the meantime, I’ve also bought Dave’s previous album, “Two-Bit World,” and it’s just as good. Very impressed. (Yes, I know the album covers are a little cheesy :)
