A New Way of Hearing

New Ways of Hearing

Force Controls Movement
Direction of the Constant
Yielding to the Pressure
of Resistance that is Futile

you see, somewhere in between Blues and Jazz lies Psychadelica  ...  the Dream State, the union of conscious and unconscious.
Treo doesn't take you there.
Treo opens the door for you.
and then, to your utter and complete amazement, makes you aware that in that space we call the door jam, both worlds exist simultaneously.  In this world of always making choices, we forget that choosing to 'do nothing' is a legitimate choice. 

"Be the branch", I always tell my daughters, "that blows in the wind and you will never break."

The show started slowly.  It was like I was in a rainforest that was awakening to a new day.  There was sounds.  There were sounds.
Coming from everywhere.  Slowly building sounds, upon each other.  Like wings rubbing the dew away in preparation of flight,  like the cracking of twigs and leaves as creatures great and small raised their nostrils and antennae into the air  ... all of these sounds, unique to each other, but organically a part of the greater whole.  For this is the jungle, itself a living and breathing entity composed of flesh and blood, of earth and vine.
This is how the show started.
If it was 1967 and I was a part of the Doors entourage and after the show at the Whiskey, we all went to some party down in Venice, this is the band that could have been playing.   These were musicians with obviously some training and some practice; but these were also some musicians, who seemed to have walked away from some of those classrooms in disgust and dismay.
These musicians had elevated themselves to the level of artist.  For it was no longer about the paint by number practice sheets, it was now about communication and reaching out.
It was mind expanding.
Time warping.
Elegantly psychadelic.  Serious Happy Music.
Simple modals, like mushrooms on the sides of tree bark, digging in and giving back to the host, the processed juices turned into magic
mushroom flesh.  I can see.  I can truly
     see
Joy.

There was no title to the opening number.
In fact, up until the last minute before they started, they had no idea that what they played would be the opening number.
I was hesitant speaking to them before they started, but now, afterwards, especially as I contemplate while I write, perhaps that brief conversation altered or empowered the direction the show would gravitate towards.

Whatever it was, it was good.
The opening number established a mind-set.  A bench mark.  This is where it all begins and this is where it will all return.
An organic crescendo, a creek turning into a stream and then into a waterfall and then into a reflecting pool and then back into a stream. 

Before the show started I told Nick, "don't play any jazz."
Nick looked at me.  He doesn't say it but I can get the feeling he's saying, "Mike, you're telling me this 5 minutes before we go on?"
And so I respond to the unspoken.
"We don't want to sound like Steamers over here."
Steamers being the Jazz club next door.  "Please, no Bee-Bop.  This is an NO BE-BOP zone.  If the first notes that come out of your instruments are freaky augmented diminished sevenths or ninths, you're done.  It's over.  If Treva hears a D-minor seventh she'll likely break the bowl of the wine glass she's holding."
"Ok Mike, we can do some blues and make some jams around that."
I took the palm of my hand, flattened it horizontal into an slicer and then cut the air in half.  "No Jazz."
So Nick turns to his other band mates, Dave on guitar and Ken on drums,  and they have a quick huddle.  Out of the corner of my eye I see a wicked smile curl on the edges of Ken's mouth.

You see I like these guys.  They've been coming on and off to our Thursday Jam [2] for a while.  I knew they wanted their own show, but knowing Treva's disposition towards Jazz, I was afraid of the possible repercussions.  "And it's not that I don't like Jazz", said Treva, "it's that for the most part it's the musicians that drink alcohol while the audience oriders water and coffee and hot tea.  And I can't stay in business selling hot tea and giving away bread and water.  The rock n' roll people, they drink.  Rock n' roll is good for business."
I'm not quite so sure that I agree with that logic but I do understand where she's coming from. 

Jaz is passion.  It's a process.  One doesn't pick up a guitar and play Jaz.  You study Jaz.  You practice Jaz.  You live and breathe Jaz.  Sure, with rock n' roll, you live it and you breathe it, but rock n' roll isn't so much a process.  Rock n' roll is not that complicated.   Nor is it that serious.  Maybe that's one of the problems of Jaz.  It's easy to take it to serious.  You put all of this work into it and then in order to justify all that time and energy, you have to think that it somehow transcends other musical genres.  And therein lies one of the greatest mistakes a musician can make ... thinking in terms of whose better?  Who's got the fastest fingers?  Who's got the most mind numbing licks?  Who knows Green Dolphin backwards in the key F-Sharp?  For some, this sort of internal competition means something.  But I'll tell you, the most important traits of an artist are; one, being able to make oneself vulnerable; and two, remaining humble.  You see, art is a balance between the personal integrity of the artist and it's manifestation as an object beheld by an audience.  It doesn't matter wether you're a painter, a sculpter, a poet or a way wicked guitar player.  It's not about you.  It's about how the audience perceives you.  If you've got something to say then you want people to hear.  Now you don't have to make it too easy for the audience; but at the same time, if you 're presenting a pretty serious and heavy message, you gotta get that audience to a mental state where they'll be ready to receive the message.

That's the problem with a lot of Jazz Musicians, young and old, new and been around ... they clobber you over the head with their chops and then expect their audience to bow down on their knees in praise.

Not these guys. 
The second song was a bluesy jam.  The slow sinewy groovy mind expanding psychadelica of the first number had already  created a pallet of satin and velveteen bass and treble, offset by the childlike radiance of percussion, like monkeys in the forest, dancing happy and almost unable to control their tails; or perhaps, childlike enough to allow their tails the freedom to make choices.  The bass had already established itself as the Python of this jungle.  Charming and Hypnotic.  And the guitar was the Jaguar.  Brooding.  Purring.  Piercing.  And penetrating.  The three, together, Monkey, Snake and Jaguar became our guides on this journey into our selves.  For we could choose to, linger in the communal unconsciousness that had been made into public domain; or, we could rise like bubbles from the depths of this shared dream state to the surface of consciousness.  And here on the surface we could smile while watching the money play with snake and jaguar.  We could look at our feet in amazement, realizing that the forest floor, wether it be of earth or of concrete is like the skin of an onion.
Layers upon layers upon layers.

After the second song, I walked up to Nick and whispered in his ear what my smile was thinking.
"You won her over", I said. "She loves this."
Nick smiled back.  "No worries Mike", he said, "we're not playing it any different.  This is what we do."
"It doesn't matter what you do now."
"So", says Nick smiling, "it's cool if I bring the trombone out?"
Treo takes you to the happy place inside your shoe [1]

The ultimate beauty of this band and this show lay in the choices and non-choices that both audience and band could make while in the moment of the show.  Yes, we were all on a collective journey together, but we each had a unique perception of the experience.  The filters through which this experience passed were of our individual choosing.
The dynamic of this band cannot be duplicated like a cookie cutter.  This band is a painting, a unique piece of art that could be painted a thousand different ways, but never would any of these paintings look exactly the same.

And ironically, and perhaps not though, the very essence of the the Jaz we were trying to get away from, is really the truth we all came back to.  Jaz is not always easy.  Nor is it always pretty or happy.  But if all journey together, even if on a dirt road detour  taken off of the Jazz Highway, in that journey, community is born and created and reinforced.
We share our unique experiences because the music has open our consciousness to all.

The portal slowly closes, but not for a while.
Even after the band is gone, the electricty and the magic of that performance lingers in the air.  It impacts even those who did not hear.  It calls out to those far away who are willing to hear.
Come here.
There is something here for you.
And that something is good.

TREO will play at Table Ten again on Monday December 22 at 7:00

[1] you know that happy place well.  It's the place in your shoes where all that tapping takes place.   The part of your foot that taps is connected directly to your heart. ie- the Happy Place.
[2] THE TEN SESSIONS, every Thursday from 1030-1am

Comments

[Ken]

Hey Mike, I can't thank you enough for writing all this about us. I have to say that every word you wrote is really amazing and beautiful, and you are so true about it. You have a really deep understanding of music, art and I think life, and having somebody like that listing to us was very satisfactory. You were not only witnessing, you were there, in the same place, with the 3 of us. Please, if you have anything else or pictures, email it to me.

Thanks again.

[Nick]

Mike,

Your writing is wonderful and it is very satisfying. Much of what you have said, if not all is/has/and will continue to be a musical goal of mine as well as my bandmates. Please continue to write as your words come as inspiration to anyone's ear who wishes to take the time to LISTEN=) THANK YOU MIKE!

-Nick Medina-