This is free improv music. We all know, of course, that there is no such thing as free (neither in lunch nor in personal decision making). But there is freedom. And these guys work it.
The is primarily about discovery – the spontaneous discovery thing. At times, it has been referred to as spontaneous composition. The gesture in the opening 3 seconds on the first track could be transformed into a symphonic work by using it as the overarching structure. And the only way these first three seconds could have come about is through the realm of the spontaneous.
I’ve known both these men for a while. Denman was my composition teacher in the mid-70s, and we each spent time as pianist in the Fourth World Quartet. He showed me lots of potential directions, but, like a good teacher should, he never told me what to do. His class took me on my first trip to NYC to the Charles Ives 100th Anniversary Music Festival, which was quite an ear-opener. Or more recently, we were driving in Boston and I happened to have Ornette’s “Science Fiction” on my car stereo and we grooved heavily, especially on its two songs. And I’ve played with Mat many times in Club D’Elf, both in clubs and at the MFA in Boston: it’s always a pleasure (I hope as much for him as for me). Sink into the groove, pull it and bend it into a new shape – this is where it lives. It’s the answer to the big “why” if you have to have one.
There are no rhythms in the traditional sense in this music. But rhythm runs through it. Like the pulsing of a pond in summer. Living, non-linear (life is constantly full of non-linearity). Try track 7, “Span” – this is a pretty wet environment – the stability of land is nowhere to be found. But there is plenty going on for those who have ears to hear it. This is a lot closer to representing life than Beethoven’s 5th or Madonna’s “First Time.”
As a pianist, I have delved into the “prepared” world, and I find Denman’s technique fascinating. His hyperpiano is, essentially, heavy metal. There is no heavier instrument (you try moving one of those!): the plate, the tuning pins, the strings are all metal. You can hear the metal in Denman’s work; it is as much like machinery gone haywire as the cells in a tree dividing during the first warm days of spring.
If Denman’s metallic glissandos obliterate any sense of dividing the octave into 12 discrete parts, then Mat’s micro-tonalities eradicate superficial civilization every bit as much, even when he’s not the one leading the glissando slides down those slippery slopes. And the two together create an extremely pleasantly disorienting reorientation of the hearing system.
What exactly was that? Which instrument are those harmonics coming from, anyways? On the other hand, why does one have to know exactly what it was that they heard? At times when I listen to this disk, I’m pretty sure I can hear Harry Partch laughing happily with what is going down.
It doesn’t have to be mentioned that both these guys are terrific technicians, right? No, it doesn’t seem important to mention that. Or that frequently it sounds like there are 4 or 5 musicians playing? No, that’s pretty obvious.
Ok, so I’m biased. I really like free improv. I engage in free improv. And I find lots of what is really good about free improv on this disk. So I happily write these liner notes, hopefully not too embarrassingly to anyone.
Roger C. Miller, Quincy, Massachusetts, July, 2006