So, Jim Kaczmarek asked me to write some notes for his band’s new album. And I wasn’t sure at first how to approach it. Sure – I could paint some historical background on the music, draw comparisons to the reedy tonality of Kaczmarek’s soprano to Rahsaan Roland Kirk’s manzello, or the airy expanse of Mertens’ piano to Herbie Hancock’s keyboard work in his Blue Note period or how some of these compositions stick in your head like songs you heard as a kid that you find yourself whistling unconsciously while sorting the laundry. But after receiving the disc, I just did the most radical thing I could think of. I sat down, without my phone or computer and listened to the music.
While researching my biography Bright Moments – The Life & Legacy of Rahsaan Roland Kirk, I found a stage recording of the late/great multi-instrumentalist telling the crowd to interact and become one with the music in some way – “Sing, dance, talk, tap a pencil in time,” he said. Beat writers Allen Ginsberg and Jack Kerouac wrote to the rhythm of life, whether heard in spinning tires, coffeehouses or jazz bars. Improvisation in music, writing or art is all about taking risks. And this music does just that, subtly… I unexpectedly found myself plunged headfirst into a fresh, mysterious sonic sea, while the firm of Kaczmarek, Mertens, DeSanto and Vitek, dared me to harpoon some strange sparkling creature that none of us knew was down there.
Below you’ll find a couple of my interpretive dances inspired by listening (there’s that word again!) to Consternation. Like my old friend and mentor Atlantic producer Joel Dorn (who wrote some of the best non-sequitur liner notes of all time) always said… “Enjoy the music!”
- John Kruth, NYC – Bastille Day, ‘25
1. “Spring Was Here”
Once I was driving my car along some pale white jagged coast, laughing as the world flashed past my window when suddenly the first raindrops of spring, splashed on my windshield like piano notes, cold, silver and mercurial, reminding me to always stay in the moment ‘cause thoughts only get in the way when you’re improvising. Just ask the bass player sculpting those big marbly notes as the saxophone swoops across the sky until landing fierce and light as a red tail upon your shoulder.
2. “Consternation”
While cars, buses and trucks usually follow the roads built for them, traffic finds its own pattern, weaving, winding down black tar paths through this cavernous city, honking frustrated fugues on a steamy July afternoon as the short order cook sweats behind the grill, frying eggs sunny side with potatoes, peppers and onions as he thrusts and parries with his spatula, flipping flapjacks onto a cold white plate, while notes splash and spill like coffee down the side of the cup, leaving black amoebas on the diner counter. With the first sip, the drums pick up the rhythm, towing away grey heavy clouds of emotions as the melody gently creeps again, like a cat brushing against your leg, waiting for supper.
3. Tumbling After
Dawn is a strange time of day. Sometimes you’re awake for reasons you can’t fathom, whether driven from your bed by memories, or the need to make more. And then the sun pops up just as you reach the deep end of the dream pool. The soprano sax suddenly leaps in intervals, zigzagging across your ears like dragon flies as the bass leads you into the silver gloaming. Piano notes sweet as picnic watermelon drop into your ears, swirl like a Ferris wheel on a summer afternoon, tumble like fireflies illuminating heart and spirit, giving hope that us crazy humans that we don’t burn down the world in a moment of mad greed and lonely rage.
4. Ballad DiSienna
Draped in black lace, she tangos with the ghost of her dead lover, with a withered rose he placed between her teeth, with the thorns out, to make sure she’ll never kiss another. She needs no dance step diagrams. Her feet don’t even touch the floor.
5. Going Home
I was watching Raiders of the Lost Ark the other day when Indiana Jones was about to get flattened again by that giant boulder, after trying to make off with the great golden “Chachapoyan Fertility Idol.” The sight of that big ball of doom conjured visions of ugly COVID spheres with their protruding deadly red spikes which mowed down seven million worldwide. And then I remembered Cannonball Adderly’s famous plea for compassion in the intro to his soul/jazz hit "Mercy, Mercy, Mercy":
“You know, sometimes we're not prepared for adversity
When it happens, sometimes we're caught short
We don't know exactly how to handle it when it comes up
Sometimes we don't know
Just what to do when adversity takes over…”
No matter how Cannon preached, COVID had no mercy… none! But it did inspire some of us to express ourselves in ways we never imagined. A friend of mine, locked in his tiny Manhattan apartment decided it was time to learn sword swallowing. Next, he went to the park on windy days to juggle flaming batons. And after the epidemic finally ended, he moved on to skydiving. So, you never know where dire circumstances may lead… even to going home again.
6. JC in the Club
C’mon and step into the ring and throw a punch. Bold and brassy as a horn section. Sweet and strong as a single malt on the first day of Autumn. Notes falling. Sliding down leaf strewn cobblestone lanes. The bass throbs like a pair of lover’s hearts after strong espresso at a Village café, as the drums tick tock exotic rhythm and cymbals splash like car tires striking rainwater puddles, spraying oily rainbows across the new shoes of your perfect afternoon.
OK Sir Kacz has informed me I’m nearing my word limit… Now it’s your turn….
7. I Have No Idea…
