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I was
reticent about the idea of translating the trends of preclassical
European music into the modern idiom as suggested by Creed Taylor, but
the temptation to do so became irresistible and finally I have accepted
the challenge.
The
difficulty of such a project rests in the apparent divorce between the
old traditions and the new approaches. We have been told many times
about the resemblance of baroque music with contemporary jazz, but we
could also point out their tremendous differences (phrasing, rhythm,
attack, dynamics, form, etc.). Besides most of the previous experiments
trying to merge both idioms had not been completely successful, and
where they were, their success was only on the surface; the use of
clichés from the 18th century or the addition of jazz rhythm
sections to a Bach fugue have proven in my opinion to be very naïve.
The real
task was to go to the heart of the matter and transform the styles of
the old masters with a new perspective without losing either spirit or
“swing” and keeping both intact after the inevitable chemical reaction
that their merger would produce. Old memories of my years of classical
training came doubly to mind. I realize now to what degree I have been
unconsciously absorbing the discoveries of certain melodic contours or
harmonic progressions that have impressed me because of hidden
similarities in both idioms.
Above all,
there is the inner freedom, the spontaneity and the complex simplicity
that is common ground for what I have always called “good music”,
regardless of labels, schools, or movements. Finally, let us not
underestimate the importance of the old practice of improvisation that
has been almost forgotten in our century. Only jazz musicians have kept
it alive and become masters of its technique.
This album
does not represent a pretentious attempt to superimpose two eras of
music history. It is, rather, a collection of impressions of my split
musical personality and most of all should be approached with tolerance
from both sides since my only ambition was to play a musical game, a
sort of “divertisement” . Fun, sense of humor and a harmless secret
perversion are its basic ingredients.
“The Blues
for Johann Sebastian” is dedicated to the memory of J.S. Bach’s youngest
son, J. Gottfried Bernhard (1715-1739). It represents an attempt to
express the dramatic lyricism of the baroque school within the 12-bar
minor blues format. The piano solo expresses painfully its joy while
the brass, as a distant echo of the organ, ascends like a climbing vine
through the columns of the Gothic cathedral.
“The Wig”
is another composition of mine. I was trying to write a sonatine in the
classical style while I was listening to recordings by Ramsey Lewis, the
Rolling Stones, and Count Basie. I must admit that the final result is
quite shocking.
“Renaissance” is based on a harmonic progression characteristic of that
period. The flute, piano, and electric guitar improvise the variations
on the theme exposed by the lute.
“Troubadour” is patterned after the modes of secular music in the middle
ages and honors at the same time the poet-singers from the 12th
century and their contemporary version, the jazz musicians.
“Aria” was
the product of a delirious experience. I was playing at the piano some
fragments of “Dido and Aeneas” by the outstanding English composer,
Henry Purcell (1659-1695), while my wife was reading Aztec poetry in
loud voice. After the recitativo, the theme of the aria apposes its
tragic serenity to a driving 9/8 rhythm pattern.
“Marquis de
Sade” is written in memory of one of the fountainheads (together with
Aeschylus, Shakespeare, and Freud) of modern psychoanalysis. I imagine
that these are the sort of melodies he used to hum during his
hallucinations.
“Bossa
Antique” is based on a ground bass pattern of which Carl Phillip
Emmanuel Bach was very fond. I am quite sure that this is the way he
would have written this piece if he had had the opportunity to visit
“Beneath A
Weeping Willow Shade” is a transcription of a song by one of the first
American composers, Francis Hopkinson (1737-1791). I have changed the
melody and the lyrics of this piece with the purpose of conveying my
musical impressions of the Mona Lisa’s moustache.
“Versailles
Promenade” takes as a point of departure the charm and elegance of the
Rococo Period; there is no doubt that this kind of music was the real
cause of the French Revolution. Finally, I dedicate “Old Laces” to my personal manager, and friend, Clarence Avant, a known dilettante with profound inclinations toward the Late Baroque music. It is based on a Fantasy by Georg Philipp Telemann (1681-1767), who is enjoying today a degree of popularity never before achieved. Lalo Schifrin |
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