Peter Kuhn / Dave Sewelson: Our Earth / Our World (PFMCD097)

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[playlist ids="866"]

Peter Kuhn: alto and tenor sax, Bb clarinet
Dave Sewelson: baritone and sopranino sax
Larry Roland: bass • Gerald Cleaver: drums

1) Our Earth 25:22
2) Our World 12:36
3) It Matters 11:07

Our Earth / Our World

“Just because you don’t see me, it doesn’t mean I am gone.”

The music on this CD is beautiful. It moves me to stand on one foot and hop in joy. It's laced with a dark and searing lyricism that one finds on those hot summer nights when the freedom bell tolls and all the heavy weight players would pick up their horns and blow all night. Dave Sewelson, Peter Kuhn, Larry Roland, and Gerald Cleaver are creating their own tradition and it is reborn each time they play.

The music swoops and soars into inner and outer space. Cane reeds vibrating and living in both the urban and celestial worlds at the same time. The sound re-enters with the earth touching it’s own root then resurfacing as colorful flowers made of soil and mud wrapped in a shell of hope that rests on a cradle of freedom. Then the phrase, “Just because you don’t see me, it doesn’t mean I am gone.”

Peter Kuhn who is back on the scene meeting with Dave Sewelson who still remains one of the best kept secrets on the music scene but is a hero in the tone world. Here they cross paths with Larry Roland’s mystical bass and Gerald Cleavers Saturday morning Detroit thrust. I would suggest you clean your palate and give this music a big listen. Veterans are in the house bringing in some of that old time religion. No time to experiment they know exactly where they are going into the unknown where pure creativity lives. 

—William Parker, 2015


 

If I had to choose a way to describe the music that flows through Our Earth/Our World that description would begin with intuition and conversation. The best of freely-improvised music is always rich in these details, and the dialog between Kuhn and Sewelson has obviously stood the test of time.

This disc, recorded on a brisk April evening at the 2015 Arts for Art Festival begins with the sonic swirl of Dave Sewelson’s rough-hewn baritone saxophone jostling against the slinky sinew of Peter Kuhn’s Bb clarinet. Right away, the melodic interplay between the two musicians, (an association that began some 40 years ago) rings true and devastatingly clear. Themes and riffs wrap around each other with serpentine grit and gristle, all with the surety of notated material – yet nothing was written down. “No discussion, no plan, no charts or even concepts,” Kuhn related, via email. “I had never met Larry or Gerald before the set, and they hadn’t played together before this either.”

Kuhn was making reference to the sterling rhythm section of Larry Roland on bass and the marvelous Gerald Cleaver on drums, who both leap into the fray of the 26-minute opener, “Our Earth,” with muscled dialog and multidirectional waves of motion, including a brief drum and bass duet that precedes Kuhn’s screaming essay on tenor saxophone, which wails in the best of the post-Ayler traditions – a sermon of great extremes joined at its orgiastic apex by Sewelson’s equally committed spiraling altissimo pealing. All of this flows atop the crisp martial cadences and precise control of dynamics initiated by Cleaver’s snare and the depth of Roland’s arco and pizzicato accompaniment. Sewelson returns on the tiny sopranino saxophone – his sound is dark, fat, and swollen with sonic fertility. Once again, the horns entwine and spiral into deep conversation. A joyous beginning.

Cleaver, an acknowledged master of subtle gestures, opens the second selection, “Our World,” with a stunning drum narrative that leads both hornmen into a writhing jostle of overtones on sopranino and clarinet, respectively, over the relentless ostinato of Roland. Back on baritone, Sewelson whinnies and squeals, all while alluding to an almost Motown-like pocket as Kuhn’s tenor reengages, stoking the fire with chortling repetitions and bone-chilling eruptions into the upper register.
That sense of joyful audacity deepens when Roland unleashes a monstrous solo to introduce the final selection, “It Matters,” where Kuhn’s lithe Bb clarinet burrows a serpentine course deep into the heart of the music, all the while guided by the ebb and flow of Cleaver’s drums, which both explode and illuminate.

You can feel the enthusiasm of the packed house – not just in the applause that peppers each selection – but in the spontaneous gasps and groans that accompany several unforgettable moments of deep listening. Turn it up. Enjoy. Repeat.

—Robert Bush, 2016

© 2016 Dependent Origination Music, ASCAP

Recorded at Arts For Arts Our Earth/Our World series, NYC, April 2015

Mastered by Wayne Peet, Newzone Studio, Los Angeles

Photos ©2016 Michael Klayman. Used by permission.

Layout, Jeff Kaiser

pfMENTUM CD097

PFMCD097

PFMCD096_Back

Michael Vlatkovich: Elasticity (PFMCD087)

Louis Lopez 1 Comment

[playlist ids="562"]
Mark Weber: poetry
Michael Vlatkovich: trombone and compositions

with

Ion Zoo
Carol Sawyer: voice
Steve Bagnell: tenor sax, bass clarinet
Lisa Miller: piano
Clyde Reed: bass

Track 1 • Poem 1 • 2:15
Track 2 • Poem 2 • 2:18
Track 3 • Poem 3 • 1:49
Track 4 • Poem 4 • 2:35
Track 5 • Winter Things • 4:41
Track 6 • Poem 6 • 2:21
Track 7 • Poem 7 • 3:07
Track 8 • Poem 8 • 2:59
Track 9 • Poem 9 • 3:12
Track 10 • Poem 10 • 2:54
Track 11 • Poem 11 • 3:07
Track 12 • Poem 12 • 10:35
Track 13 • Poem 13 • 7:07
Track 14 • Poem First Day of February • 5:05
Track 15 • Poem 15 • 3:05

© 2012 Mark Weber and Michael Vlatkovich
Recorded at Studio Le Shedde in Vancouver, BC March 7, 2012
Recording by David Sikula
Edited, mixed and mastered at Newzone Studio
by Wayne Peet in Los Angeles April, June 2012
Jeff Schnabel, Art • Jeff Kaiser, Design

pfMENTUM CD087

PFMCD087

Michael Vlatkovich: Multitudes Telepathic (PFMCD078)

Louis Lopez 0 Comments

[playlist ids="541"]
Multitudes Telepathic

Michael Vlatkovich: trombone and percussion
Clyde Reed: electric upright bass
Dave Wayne: drumset and percussion
Mark Weber: poem cycle

(4:16) 1. 2a
(8:47) 2. Poem 2
(3:45) 3. Always
(2:24) 4. Writing
(5:09) 5. Poem 5 is a Dance
(6:04) 6. Cycles
(7:41) 7. Trees
(4:27) 8. Clicking
(2:48) 9. Breathing Pyramid Cyclotron of Watermelon
(3:44) 10. The Circle

Recorded in Santa Fe at the home of Dave Wayne and Cindy Geist, on the afternoon of September 22, 2o12 by Steve Schmidt

Mark Weber’s poems over-dubbed at Newzone, August 10, 2o13
Mixed and mastered by Wayne Peet/Newzone/Los Angeles

Photo by Mark Weber
Artwork by M. Vlatkovich
Layout by Jeff Kaiser

pfMENTUM CD078

PFMCD078

Michael Vlatkovich and Dottie Grossman: Call & Response & Friends (PFMCD060)

Louis Lopez 0 Comments

[playlist ids="501,503"]
Artists: Los Angeles Recording:
Dottie Grossman: poems
Michael Vlatkovich: trombone
Rich West: drums/percussion
Anders Swanson: bass

L.A. Recording 7/09: Killzone Studio, Los Angeles, CA

Corvallis Recording (indicated by *) 11/05:
Dottie Grossman, poems; Michael Vlatkovich, trombone;
David Storrs, drums/ percussion, toys; Jim Knodle, trumpet

Corvallis Recording: Califas Studio, Corvallis, OR

engineer: Wayne Peet
producers: Michael Vlatkovich, Dottie Grossman
front cover art: Billy Mintz
design: Ted Killian

1. Benjamin Called (1:38)
2. I Wish (1:49)
3. Tumbleweed (:57)*
4. Early Wednesday morning (1:20)*
5. Veterans Hospital (1:18)*
6. Mendocino Coast 1967 (2:21)
7. Merry Christmas, Michael (1:12)*
8. Two Henny Youngman Poems (1:57)
9. This Winter (1:38)
10. Two Appropriations (1:39)*
11. The Two Times I Loved
You The Most In a Car (2:37)
12. Two Poems About Trucks (2:20)
13. Africa (1:29)*
14. Melting Pot (2:35)
15. Zoey Steps Out (1:18)*
16. Quotation (1:56)
17.Little Rock (2:03)*
18.Two More Henny
Youngman Poems (1:48)
19. Helicopter Noise (:50)*
20. This Is What I Do Best (1:33)
21. The People Who Hate Wind (1:22)*
22. Just Before (1:45)
23. Noon Concert (1:36)
24. Another Nose Poem (1:52)*
25. Definition of Happiness/
If I Were Directing This Movie (1:27)*
26. From Iceland (1:36)*
27. Alaska (1:49)
28. What Henny Youngman Loves
Most About America (:47)
29. Vince Salvino (1.16)*
30. Fortune Cookie (3:11)
31. Henny Youngman’s True
Confession (2:06)*
32. Sorry To Disappoint You (1:39)
33. Future Past (1:42)
34. Mark Weber-Type Poem (1:41)

Track 1

Benjamin called
from Long Beach Island,
New Jersey.
I said, “I can hardly hear you;
the ocean’s so noisy.”
He put down the phone
for a second
and screamed,
“Atlantic, will you please
shut up? —
I’m talking to Dottie.”

Track 2

I wish there was a town
called Nirvana
in Nevada.
It would be
a beautiful place,
in a valley,
where the only industry
was happiness.
Wouldn’t it be fun
to send a letter there —
addressed to
“Nirvana, NV”?

Track 3

Something is draped on a fence
until it is time to be tumbleweed.
In this room,
you are heroic,
tasting of summer and vitamins.
Step outside
and the tumbleweed rolls.

Track 4

Early Wednesday morning,
nobody’s kicked up any dust,
nobody’s made a dime, yet.
All the pet dogs
have left-alone faces.

Track 5

Veterans Hospital

The uniform white buildings
shine as pointlessly
as dead men’s teeth.
Here, everything is slower,
even southern,
as they dance to mark
the time between the palm trees
and forget in the clean cut grass.

Track 6

Mendocino Coast, 1967

Inland, where the grasses and grapes lived,
we could not have imagined
the rocks, the cold clouds —
the surf that would surround us
like a headache,
and those long tubes of kelp
like noodles
from another world
where, with the music of foghorns
and wind chimes,
even the kind moon
seemed dangerous.

Track 7

Merry Christmas, Michael

You remind me of a dolphin,
navigating the waves
with your own mysterious sonar
that sounds a lot like a trombone.

Track 8

2 Henny Youngman Poems

Henny Youngman On National Poetry Month

Henny Youngman hates National Poetry Month;
it gives him performance anxiety.

Henny Youngman To His Priest

Forgive me, Father,
for I have sinned.
I’m sexually aroused
by sacred music.

Track 9

This winter feels colder than ever,
or maybe I’m just more sensitive
these days,
when the wind is
a fire engine
and the moon is sinister
and blue.
I’m all bundled up for it,
stamping my feet,
drinking rum,
counting the days
until the yellow flowers.

Track 10

(two appropriations)

Tuna Fishing

“A March 22 “Outdoors” article
about tuna fishing
inadvertently identified an angler
as Rusty Johnson.
His name is Frosty Johnson.”

The Rhythm of Commercials On The Discovery Health Channel

Will a new nose help Wendy
rediscover her self esteem?

Track 11

The Two Times I Loved You the Most In A Car

It was your idea
to park and watch the elephants
swaying among the trees
like royalty
at that make-believe safari
near Laguna.
I didn’t know anything that big
could be so quiet.

And once, you stopped
on a dark desert road,
to show me the stars
climbing over each other
riotously
like insects;
like an orchestra
thrashing its way
through time itself.
I never saw light that way
again.

Track 12

Convoy

Tonight on the road,
the trucks are majestic;
they sashay like elephants
through the turns,
with jewels on their heads
and tails.

Night Convoy

The trucks are wearing rubies in their hair.
They are like beautiful movie stars,
walking carefully in high heeled shoes,
making whooshing noises in the dark.

Track 13

Africa:
its vowels are so seductive,
I get dizzy.
I’ve no wish to deplete
the wildebeest,
I only wish to eat the wildebeest.
Last year’s skeleton crop
set a new record.
The air is succulent
with lions and mahogany.

Track 14

We were sitting around the melting pot
(which is what I call my hairdresser’s):
a Korean, a Vietnamese, and myself (the American)
discussing our homelands calmly
like three women anywhere,
with no mention of bloodshed or memories.
I told them I’d been reading
about Angor Wat
and the Cambodian jungles
where heartless nature
buried the ancient temples
and we all agreed
that could never happen here
in Santa Monica.

Track 15

At eight months old,
Zoey steps out,
wearing a new tooth
and a rose
in her purple hat.

Track 16

“I don’t own an exquisite way to move around in the night.”

Doug Benezra, 9/18/05

It occurs to me that,
when I die,
they might find the necklace
I dropped behind the bed
and wonder
how long it was there,
and whether I’d missed it.
But will they care
about my favorite color,
my long-range plans,
or my habit of searching myself
for signs of rust?

Track 17

“The town has several antique shops and fruit stands, in addition to restaurants and gas stations.“
…from the Little Rock, CA website.

Little Rock

No, not that one —
This one’s in the desert,
about a two hour drive from here
It’s the color of western movies
(blue skies, brown horses).
There’s even a mirage —
rare water and
big Medjool dates,
a fruit stand in the uncomplaining dust
on the way to Valyermo,
to Saint Andrew’s Abbey,
where the dead monks sleep
in the tight-packed earth
of The Holy Land
off the main road.

Track 18

Henny Youngman doesn’t understand
why camping is not permitted
on the cemetery plot
he just paid for.

Henny Youngman On National Public Radio

Once again, I made it through the pledge drive
without contributing a dime.

Track 19

When I remember
how quiet you used to be,
the helicopter noise
in my head
disappears.

Track 20

This is what I do best:
I phone you
and say Congratulations,
Merry Christmas, Happy Birthday,
Happy New Year,
How’s your sister?
Are you better?
Is it hot enough for you?
Thanks, I love you, too.

Track 21

The people who hate wind
are insulated, inland;
they wear hats to keep them safe
from
flying poems.

Track 22

Just before I killed that bug,
I had the guilty thought
that it might be you, reincarnated,
but I told myself that,
if you did return,
it would be as a much higher life-form,
maybe a hummingbird.

Track 23

Noon Concert

These frail, white widows
who get their hair done weekly
in tight curls,
like little flowers
bend their heads
until the applause
says it’s time
to be brave, again.

Track 24

If the bridge of the nose
is really the seat of wisdom,
yours is The Britannica,
edited by Einstein,
illustrated by Picasso.

Track 25

Definition of Happiness #302

Yellow plates on a black table,
and my new curtains,
dancing a tango
in the open window.

If I were directing this movie,
we’d be walking through clouds
wet as dogs’ breath.
Just a dot of pink, for excitement,
and no music, just ice where the wind was.

Track 26

Since she was from Iceland
and didn’t know any better,
she said, “I miss the green of the east.
It’s so yellow here.
Of course, at home, we don’t have any trees.
Once, in New Jersey, I could see Manhattan
across the river,
as if it was a picture of Manhattan.”

Track 27

Alaska

Once, I got into a taxi
whose driver wore a turban.
We chatted about traffic and travel
and he said he absolutely loved Alaska,
where he’d worked on the pipeline for five years.
He blushed when he told me, “You know,
I’m a Muslim. We’re supposed to pray
five times a day, facing Mecca.
But sometimes, when nobody’s watching,
I face Alaska.”

Track 28

What Henny Youngman
loves most about America
is that anybody can
grow up to be the Pope.

Track 29

We were all sitting around,
talking about what kind of animal
we’d like to be,
and Vince said, “A gorilla,
because they’re the most like us.”

Track 30

Fortune Cookie

You are going to look exactly
like your father —
one of those draped,
semi-ecstatic old Jews
you see framed
on the mantel
in grandmothers’ houses.
Like him,
you will lapse into Yiddish,
throwing your hands up
in mock surrender.
And your lips will move
when you read,
and your children will
imitate you.

Track 31

Henny Youngman’s True Confession
(thanks to M.B.)

I think that, if I were to talk to a rabbi,
he’d listen and all,
but then we’d just end up
with him asking me
to explain the Internet.
I went to a palm reader,
said, “I’m in love with a straight guy
who can’t love me back.”
She said, “Why would you
want to do that?”
I’m, like, exiled,
all the best people are.

Track 32

Sorry To Disappoint You

As the elder in your Chinese house,
I have almost no wisdom to offer:
A few books, a few poems –
I’m not sure there’s anything else,
except that I once shook John Coltrane’s hand,
and sex in the morning is more fun
than cereal.
The rest you already know.

Track 33

Future Past

If I had stayed asleep
I would have missed
the fun of speaking English,
the quiet satisfaction
of appointments kept,
the way dreams change
when you try to describe them.

Track 34

Mark Weber-Type Poem

So my latest rejection comes from Iowa,
about a week before Christmas:
“Thank you for allowing us
to consider your work…”
I picture the writer
at a desk overlooking a corn field.
There’s a droopy plant
on the windowsill
and a volume of Yeats or Keats
nearby.
It has been a tough day,
and here I come,
galloping into that landscape
with my palm trees and deserts,
coyotes and surfers.

pfMENTUM CD060

PFMCD060

Jeff Kaiser and David Borgo: KaiBorg / Harvesting Metadata (PFMCD058)

Louis Lopez 1 Comment

[playlist ids="484,486,487,488,490,492,493,494,495,497,498"]
KaiBorg

David Borgo: soprano and sopranino saxophones, chalumeau,
dudukophone, whistlophone, mijwiz, slide whistle and laptop

Jeff Kaiser: quartertone trumpet, flute, voice and laptop

1. Harvesting 1:24
2. Flow Control 8:19
3. Maladaptive Optimization 5:32
4. Nodular 2:41
5. Exception Conditions 5:28
6. Threshing 2:46
7. Resumption Tokens 4:48
8. Postural Schema 4:05
9. Hypernymic Entailment 16:56
10. Intereaction 4:15
11. Reaping 4:47

(Click on any track for excerpt)

Recorded by Tom Erbe, 1-2 July 2009, Studio A, University of California San Diego
All performances are improvisations with live electronic processing
Mixed and mastered by Jeff Kaiser and David Borgo, November 2009
All music © 2010 by David Borgo Music, ASCAP and Jeff Kaiser Music, ASCAP
For more information:
kaiborg.com
davidborgo.com
jeffkaiser.com
pfMENTUM CD058

PFMCD058

Steuart Liebig / The Mentones: Angel City Dust (PFMCD057)

Louis Lopez 0 Comments

[playlist ids="482"]
The Mentones

Tony Atherton: alto saxophone
Joseph Berardi: drumset, percussion
Bill Barrett: chromatic harmonica
Steuart Liebig: contrabassguitars

this is an uprising. intonations that the physical world is meaningless tonight and there is no other. liebig with the sound of pianos in his head walks the city creating a logic not to be distinguished from lunacy. his stanzas hang like hives in some fauvist hell where berardi flaps the fire’s bellow, the wind that stokes, the actual bite; where barrett’s flitterings sparkle like eyesight falling to earth, scribbling a primitive astronomy amongst atherton’s groaning expletives, reed as beast of light.

this is an uprising. a kind of elegy found in space, more than an imitation for the ear. it’s in the hues not chosen or chosen quickly in an elemental freedom, flying as insects of fire into a cavern of sound where all have converged upon a common image, illimitable spheres, the law of causation suspended. liebig, brown as bread dreaming of birds. barrett, shrill as glass that will not melt in the heat. berardi, bottles clanking, water fluttering. atherton, a diviner of foam. this is a tour of shifting scenes, voices in the clouds, lion in the lute, articulate fangs, salvation through barbarous chanting. the discord ferments as liebig, a damned universal clock existing in multiple time zones, wields his groove, totemic, a hammock, monolithic. berardi, unrelenting saboteur toppling boats. and listen to that, barrett’s ululation in the city of a burning cloud, where atherton deals in the sweet vertical.

this is an uprising. of metaphysical wailers, crazed rhapsodical sound poets in the hot blast clatter of invention, where liebig, the steward, the sober man still dancing, calls ravens down from the sky.

– scot ray, montana, 3.09

fingeroo – – 1:02
wool – – 5:27
all gone – – 4:10
empty – – 2:48
locustland – – 3:52
fire & ice – – 4:21
lonelyheart – – 7:13
slow burn fever – – 5:30
kingfish – – 4:03
out, down and over – – 5:30
headlock – – 3:12
peach tree – – 2:53
topped off – – 5:32

gear thanks: fodera basses,thomastik-infeld strings,
nordstrand pickups, mike cooper,
rick turner and raven labs; seydel harmonicas, ben bouman and pat missin; paiste cymbals

photos/montages/layout
by steuart liebig
band photos by wayne peet
recorded at newzone studio, 10–11 january 2009, by wayne peet,
assisted by ellington peet; mixed at newzone studio,
by wayne peet and steuart liebig, mar vista, california, 2009

pfMENTUM CD057

PFMCD057

Steuart Liebig / Tee-Tot Quartet: Always Outnumbered (PFMCD053)

Louis Lopez 1 Comment

[playlist ids="473,475"]
Steuart Liebig/Tee-Tot Quartet

Joseph Berardi: drumset, percussion
Dan Clucas: cornet
Scot Ray: dobro
Steuart Liebig: contrabassguitar

Tracks

07-04-00 4:58
serenade 5:06
wrong how long 4:00
stutterstep 4:26
fearless 7:49
clean, shaved and sober 3:52
bobtail 1:54
cooked and chopped 3:15
chucktown 4:17
mercy kitchen 7:26
sunshine candy 4:24
barrelfoot grind 4:26
lonewolf 4:28

© 2008 steuart liebig/
sisong music (ascap)
www.stigsite.com

artwork and layout by Steuart Liebig
cover photos by Scot Ray
band photos by Tee-Tot Quartet
recorded by Wayne Peet, assisted by Aaron Druckman, at Newzone Studio, Los Angeles, 19–20 May 2007
mixed by Wayne Peet and Steuart Liebig, July–August 2007
Steuart Liebig uses Fodera basses and Fodera roundwound strings, the Raven Labs PMB-1 and pickups by Rick Turner
Joe Berardi uses Paiste cymbals and attack drums heads
big thanks to Tee-Tot, Wayne Peet, Jeff Kaiser, and Leslie Rosdol, Anya Liebig and Aron Liebig

Always Outnumbered

. . . is an unholy transfiguration of the jazz and blues canon—a perverted translation of the sacred 78s of Chicago jazz and blues circa 1920–1950 into a more sinister modern dialect. On the opening track, 07-04-00, you can hear some noxious sonic concoction brewing, an aural hormetic designed to make you stronger if you can survive the cocktail.

Tee-Tot are expatriate pioneers that flew a few light-years past Europe and landed in a neighboring multiverse with fewer happy endings. These four veterans of the Los Angeles new music scene bring something completely different to each tune, different from the last tune and different from anything you normally hear on their respective instruments.

Joe Berardi is a medium for myriad gods of groove. He’s a maniacal Baby Dodds wielding his contraption for the dark side on Sunshine Candy, an angry Fred Below demonstrating primal scream therapy through the art of the shuffle on Chucktown and on Serenade he’s a fallen military snare player tapping ‘help me die’ in Morse code in vain.

Steuart Liebig constructs wide melodic avenues through the hostile landscapes of convoluted tunes like Wrong How Long. As heard on Cooked and Chopped he uses compelling melodies to drive the band from beneath instead of walking the well-worn footpaths of predictable chord progressions. He reinvents the bass role as an interactive melodic instrument in contrast to the bebop obsession of “chasing a melodic rat around a harmonic maze.” He’s also comfortable playing little or nothing at all for large patches, as on Fearless, an oblique tribute to Mingus—a “Goodbye Pork Pie Hat” for a lost and dispirited Lester Young.

Dan Clucas channels a deranged Cootie Williams, commands a gaggle of nuclear geese and employs various subsonic pitches possibly responsible for climate change. He employs all manner of ornamentation and virtual pedals from a very ill-mannered velar growl to a vibrato that would have made Clara Rockmore nervous. On Clean, Shaved and Sober, he celebrates the decline of a late-stage Bix Beiderbecke suffering from years of poor-grade Prohibition-era alcohol.

Scot Ray possesses a wide arsenal of portamento that would make any carnatic pandit blush. A seemingly infinite variety of sounds come out of his dobro’s resonator, from distressed ermine lamentations to the wailing of the damned. Considering today’s totalitarian atmosphere, Scot’s frenetic picking, rubbery phrasing and anxiety-provoking note choices on Stutterstep alone should earn him a place on a government list. Somewhere in hell an unfortunate freshman soul attempts to decipher his solo on Barrelfoot Grind.

Contemporary jazz and blues music lies wasting in a gurney of predictable mimicry, its circulation gone sluggish, its pulse nearly arrested as it grows more necrotic by the year. Tee-Tot debrides the bed sores of the sedentary modern roots scene.

Steuart has more than a few bands. They are all distinct from one another, draw from disparate sources and are all degenerate—in the best sense of the word. The dozen or so albums from these groups have explored everything from Muddy Waters to Anton Webern. There’s never a shortage of great melodies or superb improvisation, and this disc is no exception.

–Bill Barrett, Los Ageles, January 2008

pfMENTUM CD053

PFMCD053

Colter Frazier and Rob Wallace Duo (PFMCD048)

Louis Lopez 1 Comment

[playlist ids="463"]
Tenor Sax: Colter Frazier
Percussion: Rob Wallace

1. Prelude (5:38)
2. The Creek (6:55)
3. Banana Sandwich (5:56)
4. Ballad (6:12)
5. TGC (8:03)
6. Factory (8:33)
7. Vignette 1 (1:46)
8. Vignette 2 (1:30)
9. Vignette 3 (1:16)
10. The Window (3:40)

All Music © 2007 Colter Frazier Music (ASCAP) and RNAWALLACE MUSIC (ASCAP)

Special thanks to Steve Jay, Miles Jay, Wayne Peet, Jeff Kaiser,
Tessa Dickinson, Ted Coe, Danielle Siano, and YOU.
These improvisations were recorded by Miles Jay at Muse Ranch on March 18th, 2007. They were mixed by Miles Jay and mastered by Wayne Peet at Newzone Studio, Los Angeles, on July 30th, 2007.
CD tray photo by Ted Coe. Inner sleeve photo by Tessa Dickinson. Graphic Design by Danielle Siano.

pfMENTUM CD048

PFMCD048

Brad Dutz: When Manatees Attack (PFMCD042)

Louis Lopez 1 Comment

[playlist ids="450"]
Paul Sherman: oboe, english horn

James Sullivan: bass clarinet, G clarinet

Rachel Arnold: cello

Brad Dutz: marimba, vibes, xylophone, congas, bongos, bones, cajon, riq, doumbec, darabuka, and other percussion products he hit when the computer was on

special guest
Jasper Dutz: Bb clarinet on Insulated Potato Wedges

recorded by Wayne Peet at NEWZONE studio july 24 and 25, 2006
mixed and mastered by Wayne Peet a bit later
thanks very much to these groovy companies for
product support and endorsements: Yamaha, Paiste,
Vic Firth, Roland (Aaahh! Steve Fisher), Factory
Metal Percussion, Mountain Rythym, Remo
cover painting by Kaoru – To Osaka Airport
graphic assistance Ted Killian

the tunes:
1. Spongy Bark (7:22)
2. I’m Thinkin’ About Buyin’ A Chainsaw (8:50)
3. Insulated Potato Wedges (5:52)
4. Mutilated Grass (13:55)
5. Biff The Salesman (9:21)
6. Soiled Palm (8:37)
7. Hiram Becomes Ulysses (10:26)
8. When Manatees Attack (8:48)
total: 73:32

all selections composed by Brad Dutz except Insulated Potato Wedges
by Jasper and Brad Dutz
© Copyright 2007 Leakyspleen Music, BMI
to contact brad about bookings or comments: bdutz@dslextreme.com

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