The moment after a new art form emerges, it becomes codified; original ideas quickly devolve to cliches; bold discoverers give way to those who can reliably be called upon to fulfill expectations, rather than defy them.  Jazz rock fusion ended up becoming one of the most predictably bland forms of music ever devised but what were its early days like?  What was it like to be a fly on the wall as rockers discovered that they could play with expanded form and technical achievement?  And what did it feel like when jazz musicians found out that they could plug in?  Vernon Reid and I have some answers.   

The moment after a new art form emerges, it becomes codified; original ideas quickly devolve to cliches; bold discoverers give way to those who can reliably be called upon to fulfill expectations, rather than defy them.  Jazz rock fusion ended up becoming one of the most predictably bland forms of music ever devised but what were its early days like?  What was it like to be a fly on the wall as rockers discovered that they could play with expanded form and technical achievement?  And what did it feel like when jazz musicians found out that they could plug in?  Vernon Reid and I have some answers.   

The moment after a new art form emerges, it becomes codified; original ideas quickly devolve to cliches; bold discoverers give way to those who can reliablybe called upon to fulfill expectations, rather than defy them.  Jazz rock fusion ended up becoming one of the most predictably bland forms of music ever devised but what were its early days like?  What was it like to be a fly on the wall as rockers discovered that they could play with expanded form and technical achievement?  And what did it feel like when jazz musicians found out that they could plug in?  Vernon Reid and I have some answers.   

Trombonist Craig Harris was an aspiring student in the early Seventies when he encountered Charles Mingus’s then-current quintet.  Mingus had a trio of young incendiary devices— pianist Don Pullen, tenor man George Adams and baritone saxophonist Hamiet Bluiett— playing with him and his stalwart drummer, Dannie Richmond.   This did not sound like Goodbye Pork Pie Hat!  What happened on stage was unprecedented free improvisation with all of the craft and imagination of Mingus’s greatest bands.  Craig Harris was hooked: he knew what he needed to do and he has been doing it ever since.  He waited for that band to make a record but they never did.  Craig has been waiting for the emergence of that music for 40 years.  

It’s time.  

Trombonist Craig Harris was an aspiring student in the early Seventies when he encountered Charles Mingus’s then-current quintet.  Mingus had a trio of young incendiary devices— pianist Don Pullen, tenor man George Adams and baritone saxophonist Hamiet Bluiett— playing with him and his stalwart drummer, Dannie Richmond.   This did not sound like Goodbye Pork Pie Hat!  What happened on stage was unprecedented free improvisation with all of the craft and imagination of Mingus’s greatest bands.  Craig Harris was hooked: he knew what he needed to do and he has been doing it ever since.  He waited for that band to make a record but they never did.  Craig has been waiting for the emergence of that music for 40 years.  

It’s time.  

Hey, Bernstein, who was Don Cherry to you? Was he a “hero”? Was he a “role model”?  What happened when you met him?  What is unmistakably unique about Don Cherry? On Deep Focus Monday February 3, I will ask trumpeter/composer Steven Bernstein these questions.  Then again, maybe we’ll just listen to some great Don Cherry music that you’ve never heard.  Eh, maybe a little of each.  Come find out.

Hey, Bernstein, who was Don Cherry to you? Was he a “hero”? Was he a “role model”?  What happened when you met him?  What is unmistakably unique about Don Cherry? On Deep Focus Monday February 3, I will ask trumpeter/composer Steven Bernstein these questions.  Then again, maybe we’ll just listen to some great Don Cherry music that you’ve never heard.  Eh, maybe a little of each.  Come find out.

Hey, Bernstein, who was Don Cherry to you? Was he a “hero”? Was he a “role model”?  What happened when you met him?  What is unmistakably unique about Don Cherry? On Deep Focus Monday February 3, I will ask trumpeter/composer Steven Bernstein these questions.  Then again, maybe we’ll just listen to some great Don Cherry music that you’ve never heard.  Eh, maybe a little of each.  Come find out.