Ken Vandermark

Photo by KV.

Artist statement

“I think the destructive element is too much neglected in art.”

- Piet Mondrian
from “The Dada Painters And Poets: An Anthology, Second Edition,” (The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press: 1981), edited by Robert Motherwell, pg. xviii.

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Notes from the Field Jun 07, 2009

NOTES FROM THE FIELD: Chicago Tentet, May 2009

There are some things a person just knows. When you've spent the majority of the last 10 years on the road, you know that if the itinerary for a tour arrives the day before you fly overseas it's a very, very bad sign. And this proved to be true when on Tuesday, May 19th, I received the final performance plans for the Peter Brötzmann Chicago Tentet tour in Europe, 24 hours before heading to O'Hare airport. The information had been due 2 months earlier, but never arrived. Now I found that in the 10 day travel period, 7 concerts were cut back to 6, and 2 of these concerts had been shifted to new locations/dates, one had in fact been moved to a entirely different country. Yes, a very, very bad sign. Particularly when the logistics of putting together a tour with 11 musicians (Yes, “Tentet” is now a bit of a misnomer, but who is going to argue with the return of Jeb Bishop to the band? To keep the numbers right, should Johannes Bauer have been asked to go on vacation? Perhaps I could have been fired but still no pink slip. So we stick to the fact that the Tentet can add up to 11.) is a nightmare on every front, and that plans to book concerts with European presenters usually need to take place a year in advance. So, again, receiving the final itinerary the day before stepping on a plane to start a tour like this is a very, very bad sign.

I celebrated the pending catastrophe by going to see the new Modern Wing of the Art Institute of Chicago with Ellen right after I got the final information in my email in-box. As I walked into the spectacular new building I completely forgot about the peril ahead. Instead I took in all the changes and additions to the permanent collection of art now on display at the A.I.C.: use of natural light on the 3rd floor, flow of their 20th century European collection, all the Matisse; then the positioning of some of my favorite American painters on the 2nd floor, space afforded to large works by De Kooning, Pollock, Rothko, Kline; and even though the new wing was completely packed (entrance was free for the entire opening week courtesy of Target) the flow of visitors moved easily, there was always room to view specific works in near peace. Unfortunately, there wasn't time for the photography (even when I worked as a lackey at the museum in the early 1990's, this was always one of the outstanding departments A.I.C.) or architecture, but there was a chance to look at the Cy Twombly show, “The Natural World,”- all work starting in 2000, much of which felt like a departure from the somewhat “fragile” character of his earlier work, here large swashes of color covered broad imagery.

On the morning of Wednesday, the 20th of May, it was necessary to face the cold fact that I was heading to Europe to play concerts that, in some cases, would hardly be advertised. There's a limit to what can be done for publicity by posting gig changes on a website and myspace page... Somehow I crammed my A clarinet into my suitcase (would be the first tour I used it), along with Tentet cds, my now standardized system of clothes (everything but concert shirts and pants, black and simple to wash in a sink), and the other necessary odds and ends. Then I grabbed my tenor and book/computer bag, and was off to the airport with Jeb Bishop. Typical beautiful flight, with fantastic food and brilliant films (who can turn away from the cinematic merits of “Transporter 3” when it's screened the size of a postcard on the back of a seat jammed 6 inches in front of your face?). This time my airline experience was further enriched by being stuck next to a passenger who felt the need to get up every 45 minutes for the entire flight. Oh, I felt fresh when we arrived in Vienna.

Spent Thursday afternoon resting a bit, getting some practicing in, wandering around, then I met Joe McPhee, Kent Kessler, and Jeb to have dinner with Heinz Henning, who picked us up at the airport and coordinates concerts at a venue called the Martinschlossl. At around midnight I met DD Kern and Lisi at the Rhiz, and talked the merits of James Brown and Stax drummer, Al Jackson, among other things. DD had been making some cash playing drums for a Freddy Mercury impersonator, the only other musician on stage, everything else supplied by backing tracks. There were complaints about the noise (not the content) of the show, so they had to bring the volume down to under 75 decibels. This meant that DD's first and only entrance on electronic drums was a near silent, “pap, pappy, pap-a-pap,” not the thundering beat necessary to make Queen come across “correctly.” The audience's laughter at this drum break was louder than the music on stage.

Friday morning I went to the Albertina museum, hoping to see the Batliner collection along with some Rembrandt. But it seems that the Batliner permanent loan doesn't mean permanent display. So there was a fine Rembrandt self portrait and a very expensive espresso to enjoy. Frustrated, I decided to go back to the Wien Museum Karlsplatz and revisit the “Big City Photography” exhibit. Once again I was blown away by the pictures of Saul Leiter and Gary Winograd, but this time I was also really impressed by Louis Faurer and Charles Harbutt, 2 black and white photographers that I was unfamiliar with. Back to the hotel to be driven to the town of Rudersdorf, outside of Graz, to meet the rest of the band for sound check, dinner, and concert [the ensemble's regular lineup has been: Peter Brotzmann (reeds), Johannes Bauer and Jeb Bishop (trombone), Mats Gustafsson (baritone), Per-Ake Holmlander (tuba), Kent Kessler (bass), Fred Lonberg-Holm (cello/electronics), Joe McPhee (on this tour- pocket trumpet, flugelhorn, alto), Paal Nilssen-Love and Michael Zerang (drums), myself]. The weather was lousy, with bad thunderstorms, but things cleared up well enough for the show, and people dealt with the conditions, giving us a nice audience to start the trip. Met Michael Haberz and Erika, who talked of their visit to the West Coast of the States and his impressions of the architecture out there; plus other listeners who had made the trip from Graz and elsewhere in Austria (one fan, Lennart, had come all the way from Stockholm). I felt that the band played well. Our last concerts, in Oslo during February, had been a turning point for the ensemble, I think. Peter's request that the group use more discipline in its individual choices had put the ensemble into a considered mode which occasionally, in my opinion, caused the music to momentarily stall; people were being too cautious about over-playing, hesitating sometimes when the music needed a constant flow of ideas to work. The show on the 22nd seemed more confident as a whole.

The next morning it was back to Vienna, some lunch with Heinz, Joe and Jeb, but then too late to make it to a camera shop near the Westbahnhof to check out their old Leica collection. Was thinking of trying to buy one while I was in town, but as things turned out, it was probably fortunate to be unfortunate in this case. The band's 2 sets at Porgy & Bess were superb, the group moved effortlessly between duos, combos, and full ensemble interplay; a huge variety of textures and ideas, improvisations filled with surprise. The full hall shared its enthusiasm for the music, and their energy fed back into the creative systems on stage A really great night of music. Afterwards I met up with DD and Lisi again, plus a bunch of the Nickelsdorf crew, and Guenter Werner from the Blue Tomato. Too much fun to call it a night, so I continued on with some of the folks and Joe McPhee at Guenter's place, figuring the train trip to Krakow would give me a chance to catch up on sleep. This chance to talk more directly with Joe was the first of many on the trip, our discussions about the struggle to remain creative in our search for new artistic ground kept me inspired during time when I have been feeling immense personal frustration over my playing, and my contributions to the Tentet's music.

A late night usually correlates with a long train ride, and the journey on the 24th from Vienna to Krakow was no exception, but at least it gave me a chance to get some rest- something I know never happens in Krakow. The Tentet played that evening at Mangha Hall, the same venue where the Resonance Ensemble had played a year and a half ago. This concert was perhaps the highlight of the tour, a completely sold out room and a thoroughly captivated audience, which gave as a standing ovation at the end of the performance. The musicians kept a strong focus going throughout the 2 sets of music, breaking apart into smaller fragments of the ensemble at a moments notice, or turning into an 11 piece juggernaut when the time was right. Marek Winiarski of the Not Two record label asked to record the show, and thankfully Peter agreed to the idea. With this music down “on tape” the group now has at least 3 excellent concerts in the can: the 10th anniversary performance from the MCA in Chicago from November, 2007; the 2nd concert by the complete band in Oslo in February this year; and now the May gig in Krakow. There is talk of making a box set of the days in Oslo, combining the best aspects of the small group performances along and the Tentet. In addition, the band is coordinating a tour in Europe for next May (always living a year in the future these days...), and the goal is to have a new release by the ensemble to coincide with that trip. So, there will be more albums by the group in the near future.

After the concert the band packed up our instruments and headed to Alchemia for some dinner (thanks to Ania's planning skills) and some time to hang out with the friends who had arrived from all over Poland. There are certain cities where I feel that I'm home, and Krakow is definitely one of them; so much work has been created there, developed there, performed there, embraced there. An extraordinary place, so going to bed is more or less out of the question. The next day, when the band was preparing to head to the train for an overnight trip to Mulhouse, France, someone asked, “Who was the last one home from Alchemia?” Peter spoke up, “Ah, that would be Ken. I was walking in at 8am to get coffee, he was walking out to go to bed.” Sometimes sleep doesn't seem like much of an option.

As always, the overnight train was brutal. Even when you can sleep it still feels like you've been hit with another bout of jet lag when the train pulls in to the final stop, and the trip to Mulhouse was no exception. We had an hour wait in Warsaw, everyone in the band searching around for something to bring onto the train to eat since there was no indication that there would be a dining car in our information. Luckily, there was a restaurant on board and Mats, Paal, and I stayed there as long as possible to kill time with cans of beer and pierogies, laughing and exchanging stories about various madness on various trips, now this one would be included in future bull sessions. We continued (without the Polish food) in our sleeper car, Mats playing music from his computer play lists after the restaurant shut down at 10:30pm. Things progressed until quite late, people slowly getting to the point of sleep as the train jostled its way along European tracks in the dark. Suddenly, there was some kind of panicked talk in the hallway- Per-Ake was having an allergic reaction to something he ate, he started to have trouble breathing, and it looked like things were going to get worse. To any outside observer, the scenario must have seemed absurd: 5 fairly drunk men, speaking Swedish and English, trying to figure out what to do about the 6th as they surrounded him and who was turning bright red at an alarming rate. Thankfully Mats had some antihistamine pills, and Peter had an inhaler as well. I called Ellen, who slowly tried to explain to me what to do to make sure Per-Ake didn't collapse in front of us; the advantage of having a wife who's a doctor. In the end everything proved to be okay, which was evident when Paal, Per-Ake and I went to lunch after arriving in Mulhouse that afternoon. Despite the fact he could hardly see out of allergically squinting eyes, Per-Ake downed a fairly huge chaucuterie plate. All was again well with the tuba master.

Adrien Chiquet, the presenter in Mulhouse, tried to pull off a miracle by coordinating a concert with 11 musicians traveling with their equipment and luggage throughout Europe, in about a week. We owed him quite a lot for putting things together at such impossibly short notice. In the end the band had a respectable and appreciative audience, but economically it was a loss for everyone involved. And then promise of a workable tour began to unravel. The first 3 gigs, in Rudersdorf, Vienna, Krakow, made things seem like the trip was actually going to be on track. Our final gig, in a few days, was going to be in Linz, Austria, one of the Culture Capitals of Europe for this year. The belief in the group was that the Linz concert would be the economic fulcrum for the tour, covering the financial holes caused by last minute changes in the itinerary, travel costs, and accommodation expenses for the days off. Things began to go amiss in Mulhouse, however, and not because of the impossibility of pulling of the impossible through reaching out to set up a last minute gig for a band this size. Word began to get around the ensemble that people weren't receiving the same funds from the tour manager, and this was a bad sign. Standard practice- everyone is paid equally as the gigs go along, with considerations being made for the expenses before and during the tour in order to calculate what each band member is owed as the concert schedule progresses. With the money payouts being irregular, and the sense that the next show (in Geneva) might also be problematic (the concert date had changed quite late in the game), the band's morale began to fray.

Despite the circumstances, a visit to the Tongueless Museum in Basil with Mats, Per-Ake, and Fred, on the band's day off in Mulhouse proved to be inspiring. I'd been lucky enough to visit the museum a couple of times before, it's impressive as hell. The combination of sculpture, movement, and sound, and the way that the museum presents Tinguely's art is stunning. Almost all of the pieces can activated, essential to being able to appreciate what Tinguely was trying to accomplish- these works were meant to be seen and heard and to be put in motion. The standout piece in this regard is probably “Meta-Harmonie II,,” a huge construction of metal, artifacts, color, and noise producing items, from keyboards, to drums, to junk. Maybe no other artist other than Calder can convey such a sense sculptural joy. Unlike Calder, however, Tinguely explored extremely dark themes and these were on display as well. In particular, “Mengele,” seemed to have been transported from the “Garden of Earthly Delights,” by Bosch.

The Tentet arrived in Geneva on the 28th. There was time to grab some lunch with Paal, Mats, Jeb, and Johannes, which seemed like a good thing until I realized that the pizza I ate cost the equivalent to $40 in Swiss francs. I knew I was in trouble before I looked at the bill because Paal was shocked by the cost of his meal, and he lives in Oslo, perhaps the most expensive place on the planet. As we ate lunch it became clear that the brewing issues connected to the problems of the tour's economics had to be addressed that day, too much confusion and conjecture was happening. Walking around near the train station while taking some photos, I bumped into Peter and mentioned the discussion over lunch. He agreed it was time to deal with the situation, and that we'd sort out any problems after the gig that evening. Somehow the band ended up playing after what I'm guessing was a Jazz conservatory recital, an odd combination which meant that we didn't start our set until after 10:30pm. Despite the growing frustrations, the band once again played a strong concert; on stage the whole reason that we were there together was what mattered- to play the best music possible. At the sound check in Mulhouse Peter suggested that it wasn't necessary to continue one piece of music for an entire set, if the music was ready to finish, let it end. The main point, he stated, was to sustain the tension in the music, whether the material was long or short. For me, and I think for others in the group, this simple statement (which is obvious, but can easily be overlooked while trying to spontaneously create material with 11 people) liberated the types of construction the group would work with for the rest of the trip. A piece of music could be comprised of nothing more than a 10 minute quartet, or it could be a full ensemble construction cut in half by a quiet duo. Now anything seemed feasible. These more open strategies were employed for the 2nd half of the tour. So, despite what was going wrong with the money, the creative aspects of the band continued to grow.

After the gig, the group met to discuss what was going on with the funds and what was going to happen with the reimbursements owed for expenses that had been paid out of pocket (in my case, $1000 for the round trip flight to Europe). The general outcome of the meeting was devastating.. The financial situation was much, much worse than anyone had been told or had imagined. It was now clear that it would be impossible for the members of the group to be paid their promised fees. In the end, people's expenses were covered, but the musicians were paid little more than one third of what they had been promised by the tour manager before the trip. It is a testament to the character of the individuals involved that, to a man, everyone decided immediately to take this economic blow as a band; the ensemble chose to weather this problem as a unit, then we'd move on to a better way of doing things in the future. On stage and off, the Tentet remains one of the most remarkable group of people I've ever been lucky enough to be associated with. After all was said and done, and the meeting came to a close, most of the group met at the bar and spent whatever francs they had left tying one on and using gallows humor to shrug the economic catastrophe of our backs.

The next morning brought us another long travel day, heading to Linz by train; it seemed to take forever. I think I read more that day than I have in years, pages and pages from “The Shape Of Content,” by Ben Shahn, “Radio Happenings,” conversations between Morton Feldman and John Cage from 1966 and 1967, “black mountain: An Exploration In Community,” by Martin Duberman, and “Agamemnon,” by Aeschylus; heady and inspiring stuff. The trip also gave me my only opportunity to have any kind of real conversation with Peter on the whole trip, over lunch in the dining car. Even so, not much was said. The frustration over the current circumstances, occurring at this point late in his career, was etched into his face. For the most part we watched the beautiful landscape move past as the train cut across the countryside. I wondered if this situation would bring him home to Wuppertal with the goal to do more artwork, to focus on the visual aspects of his creativity. It would be a tremendous loss for the music world, but after seeing what had happened over the last 10 days I wouldn't blame him for making such a reasonable choice.

The final date of the tour took place in Linz on the 30th, a free concert at the Stadtwerkstatt that started at midnight, the band would have to wait for nearly 6 hours after our setup/sound check to start the gig, and everyone was pretty wiped out from the stress, work, and traveling we'd been through since arriving in Rudersdorf on the 22nd. All was not bad, however. Laurence (Wawrzyn) Makinia and Marek Wajda had arrived to see the concert, driving 10 hours from Poland, to hear the group and to show me the artwork for the duo/solo recordings I did with Tim Daisy, called “Light on the Wall.” Marek's design for the Resonance lp was outstanding, and he did another beautiful, though quite different, job on the layout of the double lp (one of duo music recorded in concert at the Dragon Club in Posnan, one of solo material by Tim and myself, a side each). These guys were then going to get back into their car and drive the 10 hours back home directly after the show. Something is just different about the people in Poland, and it's wonderful. Also in the audience that night were members of the Wels crew, and Lisi from Vienna. Seeing all of them lifted my spirits and gave me the motivation to find the energy to focus on the gig. The Tentet walked on stage to a room filled wall to wall with people, who cheered us on before we had played our first note. And, once again, the band rose to the occasion, playing another strong, yet completely different, gig. The frustrations we faced off stage in the last days fell away, with all of the musicians were working together as we have done for so many years. My feeling that night was that, despite the recent non-musical setbacks, there were still years of work left to do together. And already, changes were being made to insure that the music of the Tentet would continue, with 2 tours planned for next year. But these trips would be organized in a completely different, and more effective fashion.

There was almost no time to say goodbye to the friends who made it to the show, or to Mats, Per-Ake, and Joe who left for Vienna immediately after the concert. I'd head to Vienna with Jeb and Fred at 4:30am; basically, there was time to get back to the hotel, have a nightcap with the rest of the band and say goodbye, then take a shower and pack before the driver arrived. We threw our things into the back of the van, and pulled away from the hotel. Moments later, as driving along the streets that head out of Linz, a tune from Monty Python's “Life Of Brian,” came on the radio. It was “Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life,” I kid you not.