Posts Tagged ‘Mobtown Modern’

In Conversation: Composer/Arranger Darryl Brenzel on Re-Arranging Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring for Jazz Orchestra

Posted by Brian on Monday, May 10th, 2010

Composer/arranger Darryl Brenzel
This Wednesday, the Contemporary Museum‘s Mobtown Modern Music Series will present the world premiere of the Rite of Swing, an arrangement for jazz orchestra of Stravinsky’s iconic 20th century masterpiece the Rite of Spring. When I hatched this idea, there was one person who came to mind as someone who could do justice to such an arrangement—Darryl Brenzel. I’ve known Darryl for several years and have always been a great admirer of both his improvisational ability on the saxophone and his beautiful, thoughtful, and extremely hip compositions and arrangements. When I’m asked to describe Darryl’s compositional or arranging “style,” I always say that his music sounds like if Bob Brookmeyer’s music and Maria Schneider’s music had a baby. Beautiful sonorities, approachably cerebral, and overflowing with hipness. I recently spoke with Darryl about the arranging process, self-doubt, and the philosophy of Huey Lewis.

Brian Sacawa: Okay, let’s get the question out of the way that everyone wants to know: Who plays the opening bassoon solo?

Darryl Brenzel: That would be Pat Shook. Oh, you mean what instrument. Pat plays tenor sax. For the real music geeks, the line starts on a concert C, which is a high D on the tenor, a note that just really sings. It works well on that horn.

BS: Will you be bringing riot gear to the performance? Actually, in all seriousness, classical music lovers can be especially protective of music considered to be “iconic” and have a tendency to be a little critical of experiments with these pieces of music, as I’m sure you’re aware. Did these issues cause you any hesitation when you began the project?

DB: Good question. About the riot gear, I mean. About the other question, I realize there are people that feel that way about certain pieces, even outside of the classical realm. I know of an arranger that tried to update “In The Mood.” A lot of people were upset. Personally, I didn’t worry about those folks that would be upset. I’ve been in this business long enough to know that some people won’t dig what we’re doing and that’s fine. We’ll be playing to the people that want to hear something new.

BS: What was the hardest part about “translating” the Rite of Spring from orchestra to jazz orchestra?

DB: There was a great number of obstacles. But I think what made it hardest was to treat the piece with respect while turning it into a work for modern big band. I certainly didn’t want it to be campy or become a caricature of the piece. I feel that some of the “classics” that were done by big bands back in the late 1930s and early 1940s were more like novelty numbers. Neither did I want to just make it into a catchy tune that is just a framework for jazz improvisation. I wanted to maintain the character of Stravinsky’s work and at the same time make it sound like a true jazz composition. So there was a balance of using Stravinsky’s harmony versus jazz type chords changes. Stravinsky’s original melodies versus making changes to sound like a jazz melody. It’s a fine line.

BS: How long did it take you to complete the entire arrangement?

DB: I think that depends a bit on how you do the math. But I guess we’ll start from when I first put pen to paper, or input notes into the computer, as it is generally done today. I got 13 of 14 parts done in just under seven months. Then I got derailed a bit by some other projects with looming deadlines. When I got to the last parts it took me about three and a half weeks. So just over seven months work time or about nine and half from when I started.

BS: Was there ever a point when you said, “Screw it. I can’t do this.”?

DB: Yeah, like the first time I took a serious listen to the original Rite of Spring after being asked to do this arrangement. But I thought, “It will be okay once I get the score.” Then I said it again once I got the score. Then after a bit I thought it would be okay. Then I said it again once I started writing. But after getting through the first part I realized it could be done. My only concern at that point was if I could finish it in time.

BS: Your arrangement of the Rite of Spring traverses many different musical styles. Why did you decide to do that and what was your thought process for choosing the style of any particular movement?

DB: Three of the first four parts seemed pretty obvious to me with some repeated listening regarding how I wanted to treat them. The other of those first four had a time signature that made me think a certain style could work. Some other parts were fairly obvious as well, but after the first four I began thinking about what styles I would like to use and how I might make them a part of the whole work. So I did make a concerted effort to use a wide variety of styles that have been incorporated into the jazz cannon over the last 50 years.

BS: Stravinsky: hip or square?

DB: In the words of Huey Lewis, “It’s hip to be square.”

The Contemporary Museum’s Mobtown Modern Music Series presents the world premiere of Darryl Brenzel’s Rite of Swing , featuring the Mobtown Jazz Orchestra this Wednesday, May 12 at the Metro Gallery (1700 North Charles Street). Show times are 7:30 and 9:30 p.m. Tickets are $10 general admission and $5 for Contemporary Museum members and students with a valid ID. For more information and to hear sound samples of Darryl’s arrangement visit mobtownmodern.com. Mobtown Modern’s presentation of The Rite of Swing is funded in part through Meet The Composer‘s MetLife Creative Connections program.

Improvisers Anonymous

Posted by Brian on Monday, March 1st, 2010

jackdaniels2
Sometimes I feel like experimental improvisers can be a lot like alcoholics—they don’t know when to stop. I was going to keep these thoughts to myself but something happened during Mobtown Modern’s performance of Cobra last week that made me want to put it out there: I think I became the person that you’ll read about further down in this post. We’d been playing for close to an hour—not quite by my watch—and the performance could/might have reached a logical conclusion point. But I was so excited about what the group might be able to do if we did just one more cobra, I turned to the audience and asked, “Should we do one more?” And then there was this line from Baltimore Sun critic Tim Smith’s review of the show:

It might have been wiser to quit while they were ahead, though; by the time they played the last round, the diversity of contributions had lessened considerably.

Ugh. Let me explain a little more. I go to a lot of improv shows and there has been a high frequency of times I leave vowing to never speak of what I’d just witnessed and wishing for that 2 hours of my life back. Now that’s not to say that there couldn’t have been some supremely beautiful or bona fide compelling moments within that two hours, but I think that the old adage “you should leave your audience wanting more” should start being heeded. Maybe I’m being a little unfair, but if I’d heard a coherent, cohesive one-hour, or 45-min, or hell, even a 30-min improvisation recently I’d be less inclined to raise my voice.

In most of the long form improvisations I’ve heard in the not so distant past there seemed to have been several moments when the session could have ended to make a cohesive statement. Instead, these cadence points arrive and inevitably someone on stage gets a little too self-indulgent and mistakes the natural end of a piece for a big solo opportunity. What follows is generally a very similar process to what had just unfolded: 1) the players start mimicking the sounds that are already happening, 2) then they gradually begin introducing something contrasting, 3) and commence a really long build-up that may peak up to 10 times, 4) followed by a very slow decrease in activity and volume, and finally 5) the audience sits rigidly during an uncomfortably long silence praying that no one on stage is inspired any more. I love it when the musicians finish one of these long pieces and then look around at each other on stage and then invariably say, “Should we do another one?” That’s the best. Though I believe that nearly every audience member wants to scream, “NO!!!!!!” nobody ever says anything. Then the players decide to do a “short one.” And the band plays on. And on. And on.

But rather than just complain here, I’d like to make a sugggestion: what about a time limit? (David Byrne makes a really great point about time constraints here. Thanks to Bill Mill for that tip.) Rather than basking in the comfort that you can ramble on for over 30 minutes hoping that inspiration may strike if it’s failed to up to that point, why not try and aim to create a solid, focused, complete, and meaningful statement in, let’s say, 10 minutes? Hardcore folks probably won’t like this idea since it imposes an unwelcome parameter in a musical genre that tends to shun any kind of constraint. But I think that would be more challenging for the players. And likely more engaging for the listeners. Parameters like duration (of the shorter variety) might be worthy considerations for free improvisers who haven’t matured enough yet to sustain a long form session.

There are two types of experiences to keep in mind here—the experience of the audience member and the experience of the performer—and I’ve been on both sides. The joy and excitement you feel as a performer during an improvisation might not translate to joy and excitement to an audience member. How do you know when you’ve reached that point? Are audiences just stupid if they don’t “get” what you’re playing and can’t stay focused? Whose fault is it? When does self-indulgence become over-indulgence?