The Miles Davis rhythm section vs. George Coleman

I've been listening somewhat attentively to the "Seven Steps" box set of Miles' 1963-64 recordings. As most of you know already, Miles spent the early 60s in a transitional period in which he struggled to find a tenor saxophonist who could replace Coltrane to his satisfaction. All of these guys did a fine job - Sonny Stitt (very briefly), Hank Mobley (the Blackhawk set is fabulous), George Coleman, and Sam Rivers - but supposedly Miles was holding out for Wayne Shorter, whom he had invited to join the quintet back in 1960. George Coleman had the longest stint in the quintet, and I've been paying special attention to his playing on this set for several reasons. First, I've always been stunned by the lyricism of his solos on "Maiden Voyage", and it's odd to me that he doesn't seem to have any other comparable moments.

Second, Tony Williams hated his playing, and it seems obvious to me that there should be some sign of this in the music, so I've been listening for signs. So far, I've just listened to the "Miles In Europe" album recorded in 1963, but I think I have perceived some of the tension that must have existed within this quintet. Tony is said to have hated him primarily because he wasn't spontaneous enough an improviser - he would supposedly practice his solos (or more likely, various patterns to throw in here in there) before going onstage. Oddly, listening provides no obvious indication of Tony's antipathy to Coleman's playing. But I can certainly hear what Tony was on about on "Milestones". It's difficult for some to play over modal tunes anyway, so I wouldn't get too down on Coleman's solo on this performance. It's slick and professional, with a few abrasive moments that demonstrate a tinge of New Thing muscle, but he quite obviously reverts to a handful of patterns throughout his solo.

The interesting thing is when Herbie Hancock solos immediately thereafter. I may be barking up some kind of a tree, but it sounds to me like Herbie is actually critiquing Coleman's solo throughout. He repeatedly uses ideas very similar to those that George Coleman had just played, but each time he extends them in more complex ways. To me the similarities are so close that there's no other reasonable interpretation - I really think Herbie was being a cocky little upstart, mocking Coleman's patterns while demonstrating how a much more creative solo could be constructed using the same materials.

This was such an entertaining experience that I'm going to be on the lookout for more. I vaguely remember thinking that on one of the tunes on the "Four and More" album, the rhythm section seemed to be speeding up and down dramatically on purpose in order to wrongfoot George Coleman. It'll be interesting to see if I can detect more of this subtle contempt.

Victory Of The Daleks

All right, I guess I'll revive this blog with an entry about Doctor Who, which is a subject I spend far too much time thinking about.

Three episodes of the new series of Doctor Who have aired, and while I have nothing but encomia for the first two episodes, written by Steven Moffat, "Victory Of The Daleks" is a precipitous drop into incoherence. I'm not going to rehash the plot holes (see gallifreybase.com if you're really interested), except to point out that although Moffat was reputed to be more soundly "plotty" than Russell T Davies, the reverse seems to be true with this episode. Alleged plot holes under Russell's regime usually turned out to be non-existent when you paid closer attention (admittedly this was, and still is, rendered difficult sometimes by the volume of Murray Gold's awful industrial-grade incidental music). There aren't actually any real "plot holes" in "Victory of the Daleks" - if you accept this episode's premises, nothing happens for no reason - but there is definitely some extravagant hand-waving going on. You have try hard not to think about certain things in order for even a basic thing like the time line of the episode to add up.

Everything we've been led to believe about Moffat would suggest that he could have thought up much more coherent and elegant solutions to the various plot issues of this episode. We learned from Russell's "The Writer's Tale" that he heavily rewrote almost every script. Gatiss' scripts in the past have been serviceable but not terribly original, provoking, or exciting. Presumably, any zip that his work possessed was imparted to it by Russell's rewrites. This time, zip is not in short supply, but I can't tell whether this script is a mess because Moffat took a hands-off approach - or because he didn't.

The larger question for me is, why is Moffat commissioning average writers like Mark Gatiss in the first place? Does he actually find his past work to be of such high quality, or does Gatiss' position in celebrity fan hierarchy have something to do with it? Is it actually so difficult to find five or six TV writers in the UK whose skills surpass mere competency? Sure, Gatiss is a fine comedian. His novel "Nightshade" was terrific, and the League of Gentlemen was a popular show with some merit (though I never found it that hilarious, and it certainly paved the way for the hideous idiot repetition of Little Britain with its "quirky character with a catchphrase" formula). In 2004, he would have seemed like a safe choice for a Doctor Who script, just as it would have seemed obvious to hire Paul Cornell and Steven Moffat, all three of them well-respected TV professionals and Doctor Who celebrity fans. But Gatiss' work doesn't have the slightly lunatic edge or the imagination that the best modern Doctor Who stories have. He's a journeyman. He's a placeholder. He's a guy to whom a producer would turn if he were on a tight deadline and had no chance of completing a script himself.

Coming up, we have Gareth Roberts - another guy who did some pretty good work a long time ago when Doctor Who was a series of novels, and who now writes workmanlike scripts. I've enjoyed all of his scripts so far in a mild way, just like Gatiss' - but now I'm wondering if those were watchable mainly because of Russell's input. And the example of "Victory of the Daleks" makes me think that Gareth's script might be a little bit subpar too. And then we have 2 episodes from the utterly dire Chris Chibnall, presumably another guy commissioned purely for his ability to turn in a professional-level script in time, rather than his ability to come up with an interesting story. I'll be interested to see whether, as with Gatiss and "Victory of the Daleks", these journeymen also fall short of the modest standard to which they previously attained.

So why is Moffat relying on B-level talent to such an extent in his first series? Was it just a matter of deadlines needing to be met? Or is it possible that he really finds their work inspiring? If so, does this mean we have years of unimaginative dreck to look forward to on this show?

It's amazing that these are the first negative thoughts I've had about this show since it came on the air five years ago. Maybe it's just because those new Daleks look TERRIBLE.

The Corp

Last night, my boys were discussing the CBC and there was some factionalizing. As you probably know if you're reading this (and if you are, you were probably part of that discussion anyway - why don't you go watch some more Bernard Purdie videos on YouTube and quit wasting your time on my stupid blog?), the CBC is in a financial pickle yet again. To me, this is where they deserve to be after being run completely into the ground by idiot executives who have all the worst ideas about what a public broadcaster should do.

I don't care too much what happens on CBC TV. Almost never do they produce a program worth watching (that Little Mosque show is for suburban mum types who will laugh at anything as long as it's bland enough (note to suburban mums: this is not a slam against you - you are the salt of the earth and the backbone of society - we love you)), although I liked a couple of the series of The Newsroom. A few years ago, they put in some money to help the BBC produce the revival of Doctor Who - only to completely piss away that money by scheduling it irregularly, interrupting it for months at a time, moving it from one dead zone (Friday nights) to another (Monday nights at like 1:00 AM). I love Doctor Who, but that's taxpayers' money that they tossed away for the benefit of the British viewing public. These people can't even be trusted to make intelligent monetary decisions, let alone artistic ones.

Where was I? Oh yeah, the TV network. News coverage has been getting worse and worse (see John Doyle of the Globe for a good example of this: http://www.friends.ca/news-item/7875). Coverage of the various 2008 elections, for example, was pathetic. I was embarrassed by all the inarticulate, time-wasting, amateurish bullshit on display (and I think Peter Mansbridge was too). I still like Don Newman, Henry Champ ("they're using their text-messaging machines!" God bless him), the gang of cranks who do that commentary roundup (Chantal Hebert and that lot - she is magnificently cynical) - basically, the older crew that I'm sure the current CBC executive cannot wait to push out the door so they can get more former MuchMusic VJs to do the news broadcasts, with theme music by Stephen Page. But they are not being replaced with younger people of equal calibre (well, Harry Forestall, but I'm sure he'll be replaced by Ben Mulroney or something). So fuck CBC TV. Maybe if they didn't piss away so much money making terrible sitcoms that no one watches - but that's unfair, all the Canadian networks do that. It's a tax writeoff, I have to assume.

CBC radio was all I was ever interested in, but since they started cutting back on the culturally valuable stuff - i.e. broadcasts of live performances, especially of Canadian "serious" music - in order to beef up their playlist of bland strumming troubadours from in and around Toronto, there's nothing I care to listen to anyway. This may seem like an egotistical position, and it's superficially identical to the solipsism of the Philistines and right-wingers who want to eliminate the CBC altogether - "it doesn't play anything *I* want to hear/see, so therefore no tax dollars should be spent on it" - but it amazes me that the case for having a reasonable representation of stuff that isn't otherwise going to be accessible in any way to the Canadian public on a public broadcaster even has to be made. Why even have a publicly-funded station at all if it doesn't offer alternatives to the stuff already available elsewhere? I know that the strumming faction will complain that they don't get airplay anywhere else - and I don't deny them the right to be heard on the CBC, but the executives are putting all this strumming and cooing on the air purely because they think that's going to attract people who don't listen to the CBC already, not because they think they're courageously championing a roster of significant but obscure Canadian artists (although this is unbelievably how they've been trying to justify it, calling the people who wouldn't mind keeping some of the non-pop stuff "elitists", as if there were anything more ghettoized than writing "classical" music nowadays). This latter is a well-travelled point over which I mustn't linger.

I think the CBC should be allowed to rot for the time being because the people who make all these decisions are probably departing soon. The CBC has been in a constant state of chaos for years, mainly because they keep getting in new managers and presidents who think that they need to shake everything up, reallocating resources to stroke their own egos. Their budget problems are not primarily about lack of money, but lack of judgement. The Corporation has been plagued by managers who keep making bad decisions with what is objectively a perfectly adequate amount of money, so I have no sympathy when they go snivelling to Parliament asking for an advance on next year's allowance. Let the CBC rot!

One memorable thing I've listened to on the CBC is a series of lectures on "The Rights Revolution" by Michael Ignatieff, broadcast on the program "Ideas" in 2000. Presumably, within a few years, Ignatieff will be Prime Minister, and I would be astounded if he didn't put the CBC back on track at least a little bit. Let the CBC rot for a while, and then let Mr. Philosopher King take the credit for trying to restore it to its mandate. Of course, he might end up treating it like most previous Liberal governments have, in which case, put the darned thing out of its misery, because it ain't never coming back.

It's all over

Okay, the cupcake thing is dead. They're stocking them at the Second Cup now. What's next, McDonald's cupcakes?

Oh well, it doesn't matter. A classic such as cake can never be killed by a trend.

Nobody knows how to behave

So last week I went to a performance by the Toronto Symphony Orchestra. I don't go very often - a couple of times a year at best - it depends on what they're playing, which often is not something I'll consider worth paying for and travelling to. I have to admit that the recent performances I've heard seemed pretty reasonable (Messiaen's Turangalila Symphonie, Mahler's 3rd), so I probably should go more often. A live orchestra is a wonderful auditory experience.

A less wonderful experience is that of one's fellow audients. Throughout the last show, there was an old (older, at least) couple behind us (us being the only people who read this blog, so not sure why I'm even bothering to go over this) who constantly made noise. Rustling, rubbing, blurted comments aplenty, krinkling (my God, the krinkling drove everyone nuts). Perhaps senility is a viable excuse for this, but aren't older people supposed to have manners? I thought it was only thoughtless youth, abandoned by their self-absorbed parents at birth and raised by cell phones, who were supposed to behave like they're watching TV at home at intimate public events. There is a manners crisis in the world today, and its causes are not what conventional wisdom would have you think. I actually can't imagine what the cause is - I hate blanket declarations about causality - but it's probably the case that people have never had any manners throughout history.

Sometimes selfishness is just a byproduct of what works

I was going to write a post where I tried to figure out the history of where all these cupcake shops came from. You know what I'm talking about. Nowadays, it would seem outrageous if you couldn't walk down a (reasonably trendy) street and not be able to buy a little batch of cupcakes for $3 each (intending to share them later on with your girlfriend, but ending up realizing that if you waited until later on they would be stale anyway, so you eat all four of them, and this is the real reason you're getting fat don't blame Christmas for all your problems), but believe it or not, just a few years ago there was no such thing. The first cupcake shop I ever encountered was called "Cupcakes", in Vancouver. I think this was in 2002, which was when I first noticed that Vancouver finally seemed to be looking a bit sharper (when I left in 1998, the whole town seemed to be vacant construction sites). Evidently, the presence of affluence is a necessary condition for the establishment of cupcake shops. In Toronto, the cupcake shops that I'm aware of are all in close proximity to money. The lousy knockoff shop near Yonge and Eglinton whose cupcakes taste like they were made from a cake mix in a box, the little bakery near Queen East and Leslie that's never open, and my favourite (partly because I live a block away), Yummy Stuff (1660 Queen St. West), which hangs out with antique shops, are all located in places where people with cash like to roam.

However, I didn't bother to do all the boring Internet research that would be required to produce something worth reading about the history of cupcake shops, because Zoe Williams of the Guardian has already written something:

(http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2009/jan/08/cupcake-food-williams).

It's not very penetrating, but mine wouldn't have been much better.

[The Guardian also printed a brief "reaction" blog - (http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/wordofmouth/2009/jan/08/baking-cupcakes)

- in which Sarah Phillips has this to say:

"But is it just me or are they actually quite nausea-inducing? Is it possible to consume an entire cupcake, including that fat wedge of spangly frosting (yes, that is pure sugar and butter), without feeling slightly sick?"

To which the only sensible response is:

Yes, god damn it, of course it's possible to eat ONE entire cupcake. Sarah, what makes you think you can write about cupcakes when you obviously don't even understand the whole idea of dessert? You can't even finish ONE? Ooh, pure sugar and butter, sounds awful. The only cakes you have any right to talk about are rice cakes.]

(There's a lot of embedding in this post; I think I'll stick with it and see what happens.)

The annoying thing about Zoe Williams' piece is the amateur sociology. She can't even seem to decide what point she's trying to make about "What Cupcakes Say About Our Society". First it seems to be that everybody is selfish and self-obsessed, so it's appropriate that we prefer single-portion cakes that aren't shared. Then it seems to be some vague idea, appropriated from a "real" sociologist (I don't like to be snooty about sociology - I know that being a real science isn't what it's about - but a lot of what accredited sociologists say in the press is pretty facile, and really, apart from her academic verbiage, what makes her insights any more authoritative than one's own mental meanderings?), that the impulse behind making and enjoying cupcakes is "infantile", that it makes manifest a brief nostalgic fantasy of 50s housemaking. No attempt is made to draw these two ideas together to create a cohesive opinion piece, or indeed to justify these assertions in any way.

Is it possible that just once, the explanation for a popular trend that is not that it reflects the empty venality and depravity that is us Western people, but simply that it's good and people like it? It's convenient to get a little self-contained piece of cake with a decent amount of icing on it! If you ordered a slice of cake in a coffee shop or a restaurant, it would cost you 5 or 6 dollars, you would need an awkwardly-shaped plastic container for it and a disposable fork, you would have nowhere to eat it unless you were going to sit in the coffee shop and eat it there. Contrast with a cupcake, which requires less packaging (you carry it in a recyclable paper box, or just put it in a napkin which you can also use to wipe off your chops), no utensils, and you can eat it while strolling down the street, or furtively while parked in your car. Plus - I know I mentioned this already, and I know this is something Sarah Phillips is unable to grasp, but it's of paramount importance - you get a nice hefty amount of icing on each cupcake, which is something you are not guaranteed with a slice of cake. Which option wins, from every conceivable point of view? Come on. Don't waste my time. It's the cupcake.

Sure, you could interpret the rise of the cupcake as a sign of selfishness and consumer-driven acquisitiveness - I haven't even addressed what the appearance of the cupcake might signify, because of course you want to eat something that looks nice - but doesn't the actual utility of this confection count for anything? The simplest explanation for a phenomenon is sometimes the correct one. The cupcake is a product that WORKS. That's why they're popular.

Sibelius, Enemy of Morpheus

Sibelius (www.sibelius.com) is just about the greatest tool for getting some music written. I can spend hours tootling around on the organ, but writing that stuff down is so painful and slow that I rarely manage to get more than a scrap or two notated before I give up in favour of something fun (like watering the plant). Last night I was up until 1:30, writing some sort of minimalist pastiche that I hadn't even planned on. It's so easy to get lost in trying out sequences of notes, changing odd ones here and there, and instantly finding out how it sounds when played through lousy MIDI. This is why composing is a full-time job. The piece I worked on last night isn't very long so far but at least it's a lot more than I would have gotten done farting around on the keyboard, although the music itself isn't worth much. It's a bit like some the stuff on this album -

mutant-sounds.blogspot.com/2007/04/david-borden-music-for-amplified.html

but not as good.

Plus I got down a nice chunk of a piece I've been slowly working on for King Rig for months. Maybe in an act of supreme self-indulgence I'll post the scores on this blog just to prove to myself that I'm productive. At this point it's just a question of working my way back up to at least a modest level of craftsmanship. I don't know why I said back just now.