yogurt or jazz

an old girlfriend introduced me to ecm records back in the late ‘70s. actually, she introduced me to pat metheny, or more specifically, his 1977 “watercolors” album.

metheny can be too slick for his own good. it’s easy to label him a lightweight given his country boy grin and a penchant for the melodic sweetspot. but “watercolors” was made after “bright size life” – the precocious 1976 debut that feels just a wee self-conscious – and before 1978’s “pat metheny group,” which marked the emergence of the signature metheny sound. you can hear the transition from semi-formal jazz approaches to a polished, distinctive sound that traded some rigor and perhaps respectability for broader commercial appeal. “watercolors” negotiates both worlds, encapsulating not only one of the themes metheny would repeatedly return to in his career, but also the sensibility of ecm’s founder and artistic guiding light, producer manfred eicher.

eicher is considered a deity in certain musical circles so my characterization of his sensibility is probably sacrilegious to some. what is undeniable is the contribution he had made to modern music. as a producer working primarily out of oslo’s rainbow studio with engineer jan-erik kongshaug in the late ‘70s and early ‘80s, eicher helped redefine how the studio could be used to advance a new sonic ideal, and in the process, captured some of the most affecting soundscapes ever recorded, like the chamber bossa of egberto gismonti, the electronic jazz of terje rypdal, jack dejohnette’s chromatic beats and the pre-bjork birdsongs of meredith monk.

eicher has an ear for emotional drama that at times takes on the bleak overtones of scandinavian existentialism. like any good psychodrama, ecm’s music can be maddeningly cerebral and difficult one instant and deliciously lyrical and accessible the next. the desolate sound of norwigean saxophonist jan garbarek is a typical fit, but so is the less obvious keith jarrett, whose tourette’s-like bursts of stunning clarity and gorgeous melodies punctuate the vast expanse of eccentricity and dense technique, imparting a sisyphean quality to his long improvisational passages.

ecm releases are multimedia experiences even on vinyl. the prestine sound is tactilely matched by the meticulously pressed high-grade vinyl, and dressed in designers barbara wojirsch and dieter rehm’s minimalist but emotionally potent and always unpredictable artwork. juxtaposed with eicher’s studio-conjured mood and space, the cool abstraction of the physical world into gracefully arranged lines, shapes, textures and colors creates a synethesia-like private reality, a vision of idealized beauty made almost real by the compelling presentation.

success breeds knockoffs. as i followed ecm releases throughout the early 80s, i noticed other labels catching on to ecm’s aesthetics and how it can help distinguish its music in a noisy marketplace. will ackerman’s windham hill records, for example, pretty much ripped the entire ecm thing off, from music to packaging. fortunately, it is easy to spot the difference: instead of keith jarrett’s soul-searching musing, you get george winston’s hot tub noodling; instead of designs seemingly inspired by epic possibilities of sounds and space, we find pottery barn-friendly stock photos.

because eicher is ecm and vice versa, short of cloning him, it is unlikely anyone can replicate so rich and singular a vision. it is not just a simple branding challenge; there is a flesh and blood personality involved. i heard, for instance, that as a student, eicher would eat yogurt every day so he can save enough money to buy records. for most people, that’s hard to understand much less something to aspire to; and i’m not sure there is a business model that can inspire that kind of, err, dedication.

i think a lot about music and food, but i must admit i never had to choose between the two. i’m not sure i can do what eicher did. but i’m also not sure if i would want to. music is not an insular experience; at least for me, sensory attachments and details of all sorts are tightly interwoven with each musical memory.

when i listen to metheny’s “watercolors,” i always remember a cold and damp early am drive down highway 1 south of santa cruz, with murky landmarks emerging from the receding fog like movie special effects, and the air a dull smell of burnt 7-eleven coffee. similarly, i can almost see the glorious bloom of the tulip fields of western washington state and taste the warm sweetness of cinnamon rolls from the calico cupboard cafe in laconner whenever i hear terje rypdal’s “avskjed,” a dream of a track infused with heavy electronics from 1980’s "descendre" album that held it all together for me one afternoon many years ago.

Posted by cellpharmer at October 20, 2004 06:53 PM