Carl Horton

The Times of Our Lives

The Geritol Follies http://www.geritolfollies.ca/ just got back from a couple of shows at the Stephen Leacock Theatre in Keswick, Ontario. Interesting stage setup- it puts the performers almost at eye level with a lot of the audience and the thrust stage http://theater.about.com/od/actorsinformation/ss/theaters_5.htm makes entrances and exits challenging for such a large scale show. We were debuting The Follies’ new production,

The Times of Our Lives. Judging by the enthusiastic reception of the audience, it’s a hit! Here’s the basic premise- 

Frances, is an older women- attractive, full of life, and, sadly, a widow. She’s lonely and does her best to keep active. She joins a local theatre group, meets a guy and falls in love. They decide to marry.

Annie is a younger woman- attractive, full of life, and, sadly, a little straight-laced…and she doesn’t yet know that her grandmother is going to get married again. That’s where the show begins and the fun starts. For a preview article by Gary Smith,

click here-
http://www.thespec.com/Entertainment/article/367532

As Annie and Frances try to come to terms with each other’s expectations, the Follies cast of 100 tell their story through singing, dancing, and comedy. For instance, Annie asks Frances to tell her about this new guy, and the cast sings that classic Rodgers & Hart tune, Bewitched. http://www.nodanw.com/biographies/rodgers_hart.htm

Frances confesses that she didn’t always go to her Ladies Auxiliary Meeting on Thursday nights. It was always a Ladies Night, but…that’s when 10 Follies men dancers come strutting on stage to Hot Stuff, dressed (somewhat) as Chippendales. http://www.chippendales.com/

You get the idea. This show is moving, exciting, beautiful, inspiring, but mostly, it’s a LOT OF FUN.

Our next stop is Kitchener’s Centre in the Square, a beautiful theatre, on May 15

 http://www.centre-square.com  and, in September, Stage West Dinner Theatre in Mississauga. http://www.stagewest.com/

But you can see it right here at the Follies’ homebase, Hamilton Place. That’s where The Times of Our Lives is playing May 28, 29, and 30 for 4 shows. You can call 905 528-8095 or go to 

http://www.ticketmaster.ca/artist/1195966

 

Okay, I have to say it- You’ll have the times of your lives at

The Times of Our Lives.

Jazz at the Corktown (totally NOT toronto)

It seems every other American town of 25,000+ population has a club or bar that supports a big band night. Often it’s a gaggle of old timers reliving their salad days for an audience of old timers reliving their salad days. Even then, you’ll often hear a head-turning solo or outside chord voicings, and you can’t help but smile. More often it’s a mix of younger and older players chugging through a variety of younger and older charts. But it’s with a single, age-neutral purpose- to make that big sound you rarely hear outside of educational institutions- Big Band. Ocassionally the music strays toward good old fashioned swing just to placate the few dancers, but you can see the musicians du jour, or I guess du nuit, impatiently eyeing the next chart coming up that’s a little more challenging, like a Thad Jones/Mel Lewis number.

The other night I ventured out with my friend Jim McKeracher to check out Jazz at the Corktown with Darcy Hepner and his big band. Let me cut to the chase. Here in Hamilton we have a big band du nuit that is stacked with great players and remarkable soloists. I’ll name just a few, with apologies to the rest.

Trumpeter Jason Logue, who’s every swing through the chord changes somehow tops his last for solid intuitive ideas. Pianist Adrian Farrugia, a commanding and exciting soloist who can also comp with great ears and sensitivity. Mike Stuart, a big classic tenor sax sound, brilliant phrasing, and a truckload of joy in his playing.

I had to give my head a shake. A classic bar in an historic part of a real city with a real soul (uh, CBC? Totally not Toronto), listening to outstanding musicians play through Thad Jones/Mel Lewis charts. Mike Stuart said on the break “I’ve listened to and read about this band my whole life. But to sit and read through these actual charts, it’s tough, but what a gas!” 

Some rough edges? You bet. You can’t expect to get all these great players together for a full rehearsal. All the same, it was inspiring to watch this band charge through some tough material and experience some exciting moments along the way. I’ve heard some big bands that were so perfect and antiseptic you wouldn’t hesitate to brush your teeth with them. No thanks. I’ll take the real thing, please. And the real thing is right here in good old Hamilton.

Darcy Hepner is a deceptively calm, serene guy. Don’t be fooled. He’s full of energy and ideas. In his playing and equally as important, in the projects he keeps coming up with that we all end up benefiting from. So, needless to say, get to the Corktown next Wednesday night and every Wednesday night you can.

Looking Forward

September rolls in and it gets so busy I feel like I could just pick my feet up off the ground and events would just carry me along.

Actually, I’ve been feeling a little overcome by a few events since my last post- the passing of a few friends, my kids growing up and away too fast, so much music, so little time- like I’m riding a very fast river of time. Once again, it’s like I could just pick my feet up off the ground and the current would just push me along.

http://www.isixsigma.com/forum/showmessage.asp?messageID=17065

Okay, enough musing.

The Follies are preparing for a swing through Ohio, debuting this year’s Christmas show. The Follies Christmas show will be at Hamilton Place December 5-7 for four performances. You can get info at www.geritolfollies.ca If you want tickets, get them soon because this is proving to be the Follies’ most popular show. I spend a good bit of time prepping for these shows prior to rehearsals so that means that in the heat of this past July I was sitting on the patio sunning, and scripting and arranging music for a Christmas show. Strange, that.

Classes are going well at Mohawk Music. Particularly interesting is my ensemble which is working on a piece we call Kolo Blues 1 & 8 . It uses a Serbian melody www.en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kolo_(dance) over a 12 bar blues routine by jazz organist Brother Jack McDuff. http://www.soulwalking.co.uk/Jack%20McDuff.html

This is definitely a Frankenstein-like piece, but the beauty of it is it plays well to the various strengths of the members of this ensemble and they sound great playing it.

What’s coming up? A crazy assortment of gigs from Hamilton Place to a hotel in Brantford, from a well-paying scoring gig to a pro bono ad campaign. I enjoy it all.

What am I most looking forward to? The Christmas season, when I can liberally and irritatingly quote from Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol at every opportunity that presents itself and my family and friends can’t object for fear of looking Scroogey.

So, let the games begin-

To sum up, I love what I do and am very grateful to “have had the lightest licence of a child, yet been man enough to know its value.”

-Charles Dickens

http://www.stormfax.com/1dickens.htm

NYC

Just back from a couple of days in Manhattan. Always a sublime rush.

Highlights in chronological order-

1- the very cool hotel at 30 E. 30th St. http://www.thirtythirty-nyc.com

2- the 3 thuggy looking guys on the subway who, when the doors closed, yelled, "IT'S SHOWTIME, FOLKS!" and had my girls cowering, expecting gunfire and not a totally respectable doo-wop version of Under the Boardwalk.

I gave them 3 bucks, it was so good.

3- the corner bodega/deli short-order cooks who hate how non-New Yorkers (especially Canadians) order- “Oh, gosh, it all looks so good…Is the bacon really salty? I don’t know… Trevor, what are you going to have?” New Yorker (actual order)- “Sesame seed roll, no butter, egg white omelet, provolone on top. Quick. Thank you!”

http://www.lewrockwell.com/callahan/callahan138.html

4- walking down designer knock-off central, Canal St. and hearing the constant murmur “Prada, Gucci, Chanel” and how that chant magically and instantly disappears when I leave my 3 female companions.

5- leaving my 3 female companions to stroll around the Lower East Side, http://www.tenement.org/Virtual_Tour/index_virtual.html boyhood home to many of my idols- George & Ira Gershwin, The Marx Brothers, Irving Berlin, etc… while listening to scratchy old 78s, ironically, on my ipod.

6- discovering that the amazing Eddie Gomez http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=obDxgY6T10Q&mode=related&search

will be playing with the Larry Willis Quintet at Jazz Standard http://www.jazzstandard.net/red/index.html just two blocks from our hotel in about 2 hours.

7- listening to this incredible quintet and adding one more reason to my already long list of reasons why I could never share a bandstand with the likes of these guys- I can’t keep a straight face that long. I have terrible “game-face”.

8- checking out the Annex’s antique and fleamarkets Sunday morning alongside Manhattan’s Sunday morning eccentrics. (Hear in the Hammer we can only afford to call them crazies)

http://www.hellskitchenfleamarket.com/index.html

9- the trip out of the city and up through the beautiful, green Poconos back to my big comfy house surrounded by trees, knowing that I’m actually living a New Yorker’s dream.

Instant Karma?

In this post I’m not going to reveal the names of others involved because the issue involved is of a highly sensitive and embarrassing nature- New Age music.

Okay, I confess. I played on a few New Age albums. It was just a few times and I’m not proud of it but I’m not ashamed of it. In fact, I think I’m stronger for having done it.

For those who may not know what New Age music is, it’s sort of relaxation/meditation (medication?) music that goes nowhere fast. Think of the sound of a babbling brook in the background with over-echoed piano plinks in the foreground, and you pretty much got a New Age hit right there. Suffice it to say, New Age never got a lot of respect, although its proponents claimed New Age was a link to the “Eternal”, the “Karmic”, the “Godhead.”  Whatever.

I had been hired to fly to Milwaukee to finish up overdubs on a New Age CD. I hated flying, but that was where the label was based, so there was no choice.

This particular label was owned and operated by a group of people who hailed from a particular North European country known for its cold, stark climate and its even colder and starker inhabitants.

On arrival in Milwaukee I was introduced to the project’s co-producer. Let’s call him Svend. Things went pretty smoothly in the studio once everyone got used to each other’s working styles and we all got used to the fact that Svend was from another planet, apparently.

We were working on the start of a track that had a delicate oboe line and I think some wind FX when Svend asked what I thought could be added. I had been playing around with a new hard-disk system that provided instant access to thousands of sounds and quickly dialed up this monstrous sounding stereo sample of a helicopter landing. Everybody got very quiet and looked at Svend. He said, “Where do you hear that, exactly?” Then everybody looked at me. I said, “I don’t know where exactly, but usually in wars and stuff.”

This cracked everybody up, except Svend.

Looking back, it seems that almost instantly Svend was driving me to the airport for my dreaded return flight to Toronto. I think it was actually the next day, though. He paid me and thanked me for my contribution to the “music freedoms” or something like that. No one could understand him half the time.

I was about an hour early, so I killed some time in this really cool used bookstore in the Milwaukee airport and almost missed my flight. Running through the terminal I dug out my boarding pass and flashed it at the gate. The attendants waved me down the ramp and said, “Hurry, it’s just about to taxi out.” I made it and nervously settled into my seat. As the plane rolled out to position I noticed a lot of cowboy hats and plaid shirts and thought “Huh, must be a convention or something.” The pilot welcomed everyone aboard and ended with “It’ll be about 10:00 when we arrive in Nashville.” NASHVILLE?

The flight attendant tried to calm me as I stuttered “To-ron-to, I’m go-ing t-too To-ron-to!”

The airline was great in making the connections for getting me to Toronto that day. I went from Milwaukee to Nashville, TN, to Dallas, TX, to Charlotte N.C., to NYC, to Toronto. Each stop I ran into the terminal, made a phone call home just to see it on my phone bill at the end of the month, and bought a newspaper for the flight. Each plane I boarded the flight attendants said, “Oh, so you’re Mr. Horton”, while they glanced at each other with a smirk, trying very politely to not laugh out loud at the obvious sad-sack standing in front of them. “We’d like to offer you a first class meal and free drinks for this flight”, they said on all five flights. Many hours, meals and drinks later my final flight landed in Toronto. I didn’t land till quite a while later.

I still can’t help but wonder if my little journey would have occurred had I not made a helicopter joke at a New Ager’s expense.

The Mouse That Roared

The next time you’re at a chain restaurant for someone’s birthday and the wait staff all gather round your table to do that particular chain restaurant’s birthday song, (you know, the doofus quasi-cheer with a lot of clapping parts and mildly bored faces “Ooah, ooah! It’s your birthday!” clap clap clap) remember this- it’s not some sort of homey tradition or endearing display of esprit de corps. It’s most likely a corporate directive to not, repeat, NOT  sing Happy Birthday.

Happy Birthday, written in 1893, is still under copyright and is not a cheap purchase. That’s why you rarely hear Happy Birthday completely sung in a movie or on TV- it’s too expensive to use and too dangerous to try to sneak in.

Happy Birthday owes its long copyright life to, among a few other bizarre factors, the Sonny Bono Copyright Extension Act of U.S. Congress, 1998. Bono was a copyright holder of many titles including I Got You Babe. Of I Got You Babe he said “I was just trying to sound like Dylan.” Hum it in your head, it’s hilarious!

Till the Bono Act the limited duration monopoly that defines copyright was the creator’s lifetime plus 50 years. It probably would have stayed at 50 if “Steamboat Willie” wasn’t about to fall into the Public Domain. That’s right. Mickey Mouse, Disney’s corporate logo, mascot, and number one star was about to become the property of everyone in the world, not just Disney. There were a lot of other lobbyists for sure, but Disney had the most at stake.

Like Sonny Bono and Disney I hold copyrights. And I’d like to see them retain as much value as possible. But the complete flipside to this way of thinking is the Internet’s premise that “Information needs to be free.” That we will all profit from the free exchange of information, ideas and even the free exchange of artistically creative works. On a philosophical level I agree. However, I think it’s essential for there to be a system of monetary incentive for people to continue to create music. And I do like getting credit for the music I write, and I do like the concept of my kids still cashing cheques earned by their old man’s music long after I’m gone.

But, then I think of the lyrics for Happy Birthday. They will have generated about $4,000,000 more for its publishers from now until the time its copyright lapses in 2008.

You’ll have to sing them through in your head because I can’t afford to type them here.

Go figure.   

Keith Jarrett

I first heard Keith Jarrett on the recommendation of Patrick Moraz. Moraz had just replaced Rick Wakeman in the prog-rock band Yes and I was anxiously learning all I could about this relatively unknown keyboardist. Moraz said in an interview in Melody Maker magazine that one of his biggest influences was another (to me) unknown keyboardist, Keith Jarrett.

I tore down to Harmony House Records (Detroit, where we lived in 1976) and bought a double white album with Jarrett’s picture on the cover. Back home again I put the first disk on my parents hi-fi. The Koln Concert. Listening to a rather long piano intro, I patiently waited for the band to join in, or maybe some synths to start winding up. (This was 1976, after all)

…piano, piano, more piano…I grabbed the record jacket to look for a listing of band personnel, or a listing of keyboards used. No band, just Jarrett, no synths, just a slightly ratty sounding Steinway. To my horror, I realized that I had just purchased, and was actually listening to… a solo piano record. Let me make this long story a little shorter. Two months later I was lying flat on my back between the speakers listening to the Koln Concert for hours at a time. (Mr. Boldt, Grade 11 Geography, now you know where I was all those periods.) In fact, I just listened to The Koln Concert again today, 30 years later while digging in my garden. No voice, no drums, no synths, just a player and a piano.

I’m still fascinated with technology- wacky inventions, computers, synthesizers, bells and whistles- all kinds. It’s taken almost 30 years, but I’ve come to see that the piano, when it comes right down to it, is just a big machine. A very solid and refined one, but a machine, nonetheless. I often tell my electronic music students that if you scuffle your feet across a carpet and touch a PC there’s a good chance you’ll scramble it’s nimble but fragile little brains, rendering it useless for a while. I tell them, if you want truly advanced technology, buy a piano. It’s been refined for 300 years and won’t stop working because of a little static electricity.   

Keith Jarrett continues to be an outspoken proponent of acoustic music. Whether it’s digging ever deeper with his jazz standards trio, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=io1o1Hwpo8Y&mode=related&search=

interpreting classical repertoire from Bach to Shostakovich, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NL9aEdOT_6s&mode=related&search=

(the critics were smacking their lips waiting to rip Jarrett to shreds, only to eventually admit that he is a profound interpreter of this repertoire), or if he’s playing extended solo piano improvisations like The Koln Concert,

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HPqK1JJOFxw&mode=related&search=

Jarrett’s output is staggering. Confession- the 10 disk Sun-Bear Concerts were released in 1978. Jarrett has added to his body of work at such an astonishing rate that I’ve only gotten through 8 of the 10 disks. Embarrassing, but Jarrett can produce music faster than I’m able to even listen to, or absorb.

Prickly, joyous, morose, obtuse, heartbreaking…thrilling.    

A New Clutch

This’ll be a quick one. Haven’t posted in a while and I had such a wild day I have to write it down to get my head around it.

1-    Uploaded a bunch of movie clips for my electronic music class at Mohawk College to begin their final scoring assignment. (Some of these kids are GOOD writers!)

2-    Held class and walked them through how to access and begin scoring the clips on their computer work stations.

3-    Discussed the previous day’s master class with Bill Dillon. Bill, a great guitar player, has worked with everyone from Bob Dylan to Peter Gabriel to Nigel Kennedy. Oh, and he is a master.

4-    Led my ensemble in the afternoon.  This group has grown a lot since the fall when I first heard them and thought, “Okay, let’s get to work. Now”.

5-    Had a budget meeting at Hamilton Place concerning upcoming Follies shows.

6-    Then off to a meeting at the Sheraton to discuss producing weekly jazz shows there. More on that later.

7-    Attended the Sears Drama Festival at Sir John A. McDonald and saw some really great student theatre. (Way to go Jill!)

I’ve said it a million times by now, and I’ll say it again. I love all of the many gears I find myself in on any given day. The hard part is not any particular gear I happen to be in. The hard part is shifting between them.

I think I need a new clutch.

Grant Murray

January, 2002, a.m.

“Hey, how’s it going?”

“Grant! Things are good. What time is it in Tokyo?”

“Oh, I dunno, night, anyway. Hey, I was just listening to the CD you and Jude (Johnson) just did. It’s real nice. Real nice. Anyways, I just called to say goodbye.” Click.

Then Grant hung himself.

I don’t know of anything written about the life and death of Grant Murray, so I’m going to use my humble space here to do just that.

Grant Murray was in the Hamilton folk-rock scene off and on through the 80’s and 90’s, and we worked together a lot. But he continued to be plagued by wanderlust. He’d settle in for a while, get an apartment, pick up gigs, start projects, and then suddenly, you’d get a call from Nairobi, Fiji, New Zealand, or, finally, Tokyo. He couldn’t stay put.

Grant was a tough football player, a great songwriter (I still love to play his ballads), thoughtful, and thoughtless, kind and mean. Grant was conflicted.

 

He told me (over the phone and long distance, of course) that he was marrying a woman named Yoko. “There goes the band”, I said to Grant. As it turned out, this Yoko was beautiful, genteel (you should hear her order in a French restaurant), and very kind.

Yoko sat with me for a very long time at his wake. She wanted to explain to me that Grant called me right before he killed himself to finally prove that he thought of me as a close friend.

Well, thanks, Grant.

(FYI-  star 69 doesn’t work on a call from Tokyo. I tried, desperately.)

   

I don’t remember when Grant and I first met, but I do remember him patiently teaching me to drive, angrily throwing CDs at my house, lovingly talking about his daughter, and threatening a mutual friend with death. Grant was troubled.

In one of his best songs, Romantic Fools, Grant asks the question

“Is there a place in the world for romantic fools like me?”

Grant, every January I think of you and that final long distance call. And the belated answer to your question is “yes”, and I miss you.

time+hope-death=redemption

People ask if I have a CD of my music. I don’t. My pat answer is “When I’m leaving a recording studio, I like someone to hand me a cheque, not a bill”. I’ve played on lots of other people’s albums, but I’ve never felt that particular compulsion that I’ve heard a lot of artists describe- “It was something I needed to say”, or “I have to see that I’ve built a body of work”. Never felt the urge. I have written and recorded many hours of material over the years but that music can be summed up this way-

1- instrumental music that sounds suspiciously like what you would hear in a newsroom, or info show (cityTV, life channel, ctv)

2- lyrics that contain the words “always there for you” or “a large and friendly staff!” (400 jingles and counting)

3- moody stuff “that would make a great soundtrack!” (done more B movies than I care to count)

In other words, I’m a commercial music writer. Long on dough, short on heart. Thus, no compulsion and no CD.

Each Christmas over the last 17 or so years I’ve recorded 1 or 2 Christmas songs and distributed them to friends and family. This CD now has 23 tracks on it, and…hey, wait a minute, I do have a CD! It’s just taken me 17 years of sloth-like compulsion to compile it, that’s all. My very own CD...

Being the end of the year, I scanned through my posts and was pretty surprised to see the same subconscious theme running through all of them. Here’s the formula for that theme-

Time passing + hope - death = redemption

So my born again rearing wasn’t a total waste of my parent’s breath after all. I actually believe in redemption and when Christmas rolls around it reminds me that there is always hope (minus death, of course). Thus my compulsion, thus my CD.

This clip is from a track called bi(north)polar disorder.

It’s called that because it starts out as a jazz reharmonization of Silent Night by a piano trio ala Peanuts, and quickly morphs into a sort of acid jazz montage complete with British radio air checks, circa 1935.

I don’t know why.

But it’s on my very own CD.

Merry Christmas, everybody!