A new borderline jazz (low-funk) side: Zuma Time (However Far You Say, I Will Jump It)
Zuma Time. I was going to get fancy and add a few flutes to this extended jam from Alchemy in Dumaguete, but I think we'll just stick with the 3:25 of multilayered flutes at the beginning, that studio ace John got out of me.
This was the very first time I played with these cats, John and Rocky, and it just clicked. We recorded the basic tracks for Fly Away Home just after this jam (I told him just roll the tape, man) properly loosened up.
The song, as it begins, is off of a pattern I hummed to them for a few bars, based on some techno song I've been hearing lately, with a chorus that goes something like "summertime sadness." (If this ever makes it to court, Stairway to Heaven style, I will be very gratified). I kind of morphed this into something that sounds like zuma time.
I waited with anticipation for two weeks, through a wake for an inspirational local musical figure, to get the last 14 minutes of the jam and can say that it was worth it. The contrast between that initial multi-level soundscape and the more linear progression that follows is interesting, not jarring.
I've listened to the track about 20 times on my little portable Bluetooth speaker and each time I enjoy it more than the last. I am pretty picky about jams––Miles Davis (in a number of situations) is my cornerstone and the Wailers "Live At Leeds" (November, 1973) my foundation. Jams at their highest are valuable because they take the musicians out of the everyday mindset into an area where the sound (some kind of future?) is the thing. As Jimi said, forget the past, the hang-ups, let's make our own little world here.
Just live.
There are some changes within all the modality*, you can pick up on me at one point (6:35) conversing with Rocky, asking him to transition to another progression of his choosing. It works well, I think because I happened to pick up the right flute for the palette he chose. (Or did he see me going for Jils' six-hole monster and key into the mode that would highlight the sound best? He is at that level).
The middle parts see me experimenting with a lot of improvisational techniques I have picked up from playing the flute and singing, as a rhythmic counterpoint technique. Plus what I see around me in the Philippines, which sometimes resembles what I imagine of Jamaica of the early 1970s, 3 O' Clock (Roadblock). We don't need no trouble.
The last bit I actually find the most interesting, because I am breaking free and creating a new little musical sketch. I am actually thinking of turning it into a song, a new low-tone standard. The righting of wrongs. However far you say, I will jump it.
I have had a few people I respect give me encouragement that I am on a worthy path, musically. Not those I would have expected, when I began this journey––Paul Rogers, David Reichbaum, Julieane Lacsina, Nils Sens, David Robert Saxton, Chuck Vicuna.
Zuma Time. I was going to get fancy and add a few flutes to this extended jam from Alchemy in Dumaguete, but I think we'll just stick with the 3:25 of multilayered flutes at the beginning, that studio ace John got out of me.
This was the very first time I played with these cats, John and Rocky, and it just clicked. We recorded the basic tracks for Fly Away Home just after this jam (I told him just roll the tape, man) properly loosened up.
The song, as it begins, is off of a pattern I hummed to them for a few bars, based on some techno song I've been hearing lately, with a chorus that goes something like "summertime sadness." (If this ever makes it to court, Stairway to Heaven style, I will be very gratified). I kind of morphed this into something that sounds like zuma time.
I waited with anticipation for two weeks, through a wake for an inspirational local musical figure, to get the last 14 minutes of the jam and can say that it was worth it. The contrast between that initial multi-level soundscape and the more linear progression that follows is interesting, not jarring.
I've listened to the track about 20 times on my little portable Bluetooth speaker and each time I enjoy it more than the last. I am pretty picky about jams––Miles Davis (in a number of situations) is my cornerstone and the Wailers "Live At Leeds" (November, 1973) my foundation. Jams at their highest are valuable because they take the musicians out of the everyday mindset into an area where the sound (some kind of future?) is the thing. As Jimi said, forget the past, the hang-ups, let's make our own little world here.
Just live.
There are some changes within all the modality*, you can pick up on me at one point (6:35) conversing with Rocky, asking him to transition to another progression of his choosing. It works well, I think because I happened to pick up the right flute for the palette he chose. (Or did he see me going for Jils' six-hole monster and key into the mode that would highlight the sound best? He is at that level).
The middle parts see me experimenting with a lot of improvisational techniques I have picked up from playing the flute and singing, as a rhythmic counterpoint technique. Plus what I see around me in the Philippines, which sometimes resembles what I imagine of Jamaica of the early 1970s, 3 O' Clock (Roadblock). We don't need no trouble.
The last bit I actually find the most interesting, because I am breaking free and creating a new little musical sketch. I am actually thinking of turning it into a song, a new low-tone standard. The righting of wrongs. However far you say, I will jump it.
I have had a few people I respect give me encouragement that I am on a worthy path, musically. Not those I would have expected, when I began this journey––Paul Rogers, David Reichbaum, Julieane Lacsina, Nils Sens, David Robert Saxton, Chuck Vicuna.
* Doing modality well, in a way that sustains interest over however many minutes is an art form in its own right, as Miles Davis and Jerry Garcia can attest.
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