CODA MAGAZINE
Issue 295
January/February 2001
Fragile Urgency
Ellery Eskelin
An Interview/Article by Yves Citton
Most musicians play saxophone with their mouth. And their lungs, of course. And their fingers, I guess. But when you watch Ellery Eskelin blow into his tenor, you realize that, at least in his case, a lot more is involved. It may be the firmness with which he holds his instrument away from his body, as if it were a powerful and wild snake to be kept at a safe distance. Or it may be the way he anchors his feet in the ground, as if an enormous weight was generated by the music, loading his legs with tons of concentrated energy. Look at how his knees are bent, as if he was sitting on air, or pushing his back against an invisible wall, to balance the weight and the tension born out of the saxophone. A plane could crash on the concert hall, a hurricane could blow it away, an earthquake could flatten it: Ellery would not move by an inch, he would probably not even notice it. The music he plays links him to the deepest layers of an underground urgency which remains unaffected by our superficial disasters.
You'd almost think it is the earth itself, the ground beneath his feet, which is the real source of the music. But it would have to be a very human earth, as passionate, fragile, and hesitant as it is determined to push its incertitude to its extreme limits. For Ellery's solos are a unique, and somewhat paradoxical, mix of irrepressible outbursts and constant doubts. Nothing can stop him, except his own urge to question whichever direction he may find himself taking. From one band, from one album, from one note to the next, you're never sure where he will be heading, except for the fact that he'll surprise you (and probably himself) with every move...
Where has he been so far? He has been spotted in the late 1980s with a quartet by the name of Joint Venture, featuring Paul Smoker on trumpet, Drew Gress on bass and Phil Haynes on drums, which released three albums on Enja. Recently, he has played in various bands led by Joey Baron, Mark Helias, Tom Varner as well as in the new Gerry Hemingway Quartet. To all these project, he brings a voice which is immediately recognizable, Whether he is closer to the big sound of a Gene Ammons, or to the seemingly-out-of-breath-but-all-the-more-tireless fury of an Archie Shepp, the way he phrases his interventions immediately brings the tunes to a higher level of emotion. As for his career as a leader, a solo project on tenor saxophone (Premonition, Prime Source, 1993) and a dialogue with sampled sounds (Green Bermudas, Eremite, 1996) and a hide-and-seek-party with drummer Han Bennink (Dissonant Characters - hatOLOGY) opened the widest spaces to his lyricism. A tribute album to the music of Gene Ammons with a tenor-guitar-drums ensemble brought him relatively wide recognition in 1996 (The Sun Died, Soul Note). But the core of his work as a composer has been put into ever more unusual trio projects. Early on, he stuck with bass (Drew Gress) and drums (Phil Haynes) for an album covering standards (Setting the Standard, Cadence Records, 1988), and for the splendid Forms (Open Mind, 1990), where every track is a radically original deconstruction/re-invention of a classic musical form (blues, waltz, ballad, latin jazz, be-bop). He then started exploring more puzzling combinations. Figure of Speech (Soul Note, 1993) staged his tenor against a tuba (Joe Daley) and a percussionist (Arto Tuncboyaciyan), while his current band builds on the accordion/samplers of Andrea Parkins and the manifold rhythms of the always-amazing drummer Jim Black (Jazz Trash, Songlines, 1995; One Great Day, Hatology, 1996; Kulak 29 & 30 Hatology, 1997; Five Other Pieces (+2) Hatology, 1999). A recent project has expanded the trio into a quintet with the return of Joe Daley on tuba and the addition of Erik Friedlander on cello (Ramifications - Hatology, 2000). In ten years, he has built a catalogue of works of amazing quality, which will probably soon be regarded as the most significant and original contribution to the jazz of the 1990s.
It is enough to look at the titles of his album (Forms, Figure of Speech, Jazz Trash) to realize how stylistically sensitive, and reflexive, Ellery is about his work with forms.
"I am very conscious of the forms I use. I want each composition to have a clear separate identity. I consider my work much more conceptual than most "jazz" musicians. Rather than take a certain concept (such as "head-solos-head") for granted and have all the pieces sound the same I try to create a different idea for each piece so that they all sound different."
Some of his pieces are completely written out, while others rely mostly on improvisation. In most of them, the listener is constantly surprised by the discreet presence of a main theme hidden behind an appearance of chaos, or by sudden unison lines between two players who were assumed to be soloing independently, while they were in fact sketching the backbone of the composition. Are we still within the universe of "jazz" or should we "trash" this very notion?
"As a player I have strong roots in the jazz tradition but I apply those roots to situations that may not be considered jazz (for example having a band with saxophone, accordion and drums). It would be disingenuous to deny the influence of jazz musicians in my work yet it is becoming increasingly difficult to characterize all of my work as jazz. There is really no single name to describe the music that I play. The word jazz is so large that it can mean completely different things to different people. It is not important to me that I remain rooted in any particular tradition nor do I believe that my work needs to be understood through any particular tradition. Music is listened to and dealt with on a personal basis by individuals in a personal way. Everyone is going to hear something slightly different. It may be helpful to some people to think in terms of these traditions and it may also be an obstacle to other people to think in terms of traditions. I think that my music can speak beyond traditions and be self contained as well as be connected to other musics."
This stylistic "openness" which characterizes his work, this freedom to explore new combinations and new grounds, without having to worry about maintaining an "identity" within the boundaries of a given tradition, he sees them as the characteristic of our age.
"The common factor today is the fact that each composer/improviser is free to do it as they please. There is no longer a dominant figure or trend which everyone must follow or react against. Everyone is free to develop their own way of approaching music. I see today's scene as fragmented, with no clear leader, and no single or dominant method for creating music. I see this as a great environment in which to create music. Now that the more or less major musical discoveries of the modernist movement have been made we can get on with the business of making a music out of everything at our disposal rather than being limited by narrowly focused philosophies of art and music."
In this willingness to use (and recycle) "everything at our disposal" to create new forms, one could readily see the imprint of "postmodernism".
"Yes, I identify with postmodernism. To me, modern music meant an attempt break with the past and be completely original with no reference to anything but itself, free of influences. I don't think that that is even possible but I think that's what composers were often trying to do. Post-modern means to me being free to draw on any or all past ideas and influences while changing the context for them, mixing them in unique ways and combining them with new ideas. This creates a new music that also addresses our current perspective on the world a little more honestly and accurately. It feels more like what life feels like to me. Although I've always admired modernist art, Jazz, I think has always been more or less a "postmodern" music, drawing in influences from around the world and creating something new out of them. Modernist music has influenced me but I do not subscribe to the theory as a musician."
Where does the creation of a new piece come from? A concept, the vision of a new form, a message, a feeling?
"Sensation versus ideas: that is a false dichotomy for me. We do not have to keep these things separate, they are really one thing, one experience. If a person is stimulated by hearing my music that is enough for me. I have no concept of ideal beauty. I simply try to make music that satisfies me on a physical level, the physical sensation of hearing things, their shapes, sounds, etc. I prefer to let the music lead me and discover things about life and the universe that way. I feel that rather than making discoveries through so called logical verbal thought processes I find better revelations through my own physical body through examination of my responses and feelings about various stimuli. Our bodies contain endless information built up over time. If we are open to that, we can find many revelations."
Ellery's music may be considered "difficult" by audiences raised and (un)educated within the mainstream. Is there something "elitist" in his art?
"Just because my music is not understood by the masses does not imply that I wish it to be so. Elitist implies superiority. I feel that anyone should be able to listen to and get something from my music. It is not designed to appeal only to elitists. Elitist also implies class distinction. I do not endorse that in my music. One must examine the reasons that mass culture is not exposed to nor seems receptive to new music. Corporations dictate in large measure what we will wind up hearing in general. Of course they claim to be responsive to the desires of the majority but there is a huge influence that is brought to bear on the culture when young people are exposed to only an extremely limited amount of options in terms of music (among many other things). To acquiesce to charges of elitism I would have to surrender to the crushing influence of purely capitalist forces. Why should I change my music to accommodate that? Heartfelt expression is not an elitist concept, it's a populist one."
There is no intrinsic feature of his music which makes it less "accessible" or popular than Kenny G's. Then why is it? Is it just a lack of education in the public? A fatality of truly creative artforms? A conspiracy?
"All of the above. A conspiracy to make money at the expense of every other aspect of human lives and endeavors is certainly a contributing factor. Conspiracy may seem to be a strong word but there is certainly at least a tacit understanding among most business men that they need not address social concerns or bear much responsibility to the public in relation to the profound effect their activities have on the culture. It's about making the largest amount of money in the shortest amount of time while looking the other way. If there is one thing to fight against, it is the mentality of reactionary conservative politics that assume that art is not really a necessity that needs support in the culture. The awareness must change. It's a constant battle."
Is there a place for art in our market-driven societies?
"I find ways to survive economically while having time to pursue the music. Currently I am able to do both. It has not always been this way, nor will it necessarily always continue to be this way. I am not completely against capitalism, just its excesses. It is possible to be creative in this society, it's just not easy. For me it's been the result of a long view of development. If you hang in there long enough you might develop the loyalty of an audience that recognizes the qualities in you that they admire such as stick-to-it-ness and the intensity that can only be achieved through devoting one's life to an endeavor. Even if they don't always like or understand the music they can recognize these basic human qualities. The only way I know is to keep playing heartfelt, sincere music. A steady grassroots approach will always sustain at least a modest audience. It's part of human nature (albeit a small part sometimes) to be interested in alternatives to the majority. There will always be at least a small audience for that. In a capitalist society there is always the temptation to abandon the sincerity of the work in order to appeal to more people and make more money. The trick is to slowly build your audience and realize that bigger is not always better."
Can music be a means to improve society?
"I hope to be a force for good in the world (as Coltrane once said) and I suppose someone could take that from my music but it's hard to say what effect any music will have on any person. Perhaps open-mindedness. Transferring the listening process to other aspects of life. But I am not responsible for anyone's personal growth. I have no specific goals in mind for influencing the behavior of individuals. My music is simply there for anyone who wishes to share in it. I view that as a rather private and personal experience. Beyond that the listeners are on their own in terms of their interaction with society and their relationship to music. It's rewarding when someone says that they have felt that listening to my music was a rewarding experience but that's something I have little or no control over. I might hope that someone would hear my music and realize that they cannot take much for granted in it and perhaps transfer that idea to life, but again, as much as I value the freedom to make music, I should allow the listeners the freedom to react in whatever fashion they want."
Ellery Eskelin's music certainly teaches us not to take anything for granted. But more than a "lesson", it conveys an experience. His feet are so firmly rooted in the ground because he manages to express a feeling which is fundamentally human : an unstable mix of urge and hesitation, of physical certainty and reflexive doubts. His playing is so powerful, his art so convincing only because he offers us a mirror in which we get a glimpse of our own fragile complexity.
FOUR FAVORITES: for those who are not yet familiar with his work, the best ports of entry may be the recent and sumptuous Ramifications (Hatology) for quintet, the splendid One Great Day (Hatology) with his working trio, the tribute album to Gene Ammons where his lyricism fully blossoms within more traditional song structures (The Sun Died - Soul Note), and the old but fundamental Forms (Open Minds) which allowed him brilliantly and lovingly to reconsider the past and open his own path of exploration.