When I arrived at the Blue Room for a Roy Ayers performance in 2016, a member of the venue’s staff informed me my assistant already was inside. I didn’t have an assistant. The aspiring music journalist Aaron Rhodes used whatever limited cachet my name possessed to weasel his way into the show.

Of all the nerve! Rhodes’ impudence didn’t end there. Knowing Tyler, the Creator was in town, he invited the nonconformist rapper to Ayers’ show. I was consequently distracted from my work by the surreal sight of Tyler’s animated reactions to Ayers’ set.

Five years later, I teamed up with the jackanapes for the In My Headache music podcast. The premise- an old head spars with a young punk- is exemplified by an emotional argument about the merits of the new album by ILoveMakonnen in the latest episode.

In My Headache isn’t my first collaboration with Rhodes. I was featured in his vlog in 2017. I’ve since watched him forge a miniature media empire under the Shuttlecock Music umbrella. His initiatives include a print publication, an active blog and performance bookings.

I once told Rhodes’ father that I might someday find myself working for his ambitious son. The prediction will be fulfilled only if Rhodes leaves town or if Kansas City’s music scene manages to snap out of the doldrums. Until then, I’ll gladly continue to allow Rhodes to infuriate me on In My Headache.

William Brownlee

April 24, 2021

Album Review: Field Music- Flat White Moon

William Brownlee

April 24, 2021

Original image by There Stands the Glass.

Even though my brain tells me I no longer care about “this kind” of music, my heart compels me to keep Field Music’s Flat White Moon on repeat. Listening to the titillating new album by the self-deprecating British band is like riding on a magic bus with an AM radio tuned into a station playing nothing but melody-minded rock weirdos of the 1970s. The roll call of usual suspects discloses the DayGlo sound of Flat White Moon. The influences of Lindsey Buckingham (Fleetwood Mac), Jeff Lynne (Electric Light Orchestra), Ron and Russell Mael (Sparks), Bill Nelson (Be Bop Deluxe) and Todd Rundgren are present and accounted for. Those references may not mean much to younger readers. I’ll put it this way for them: should Death Cab for Cutie or Haim improve considerably they might one day create an album as rewarding as Flat White Moon.

William Brownlee

April 21, 2021

The Alleged King of Jazz

William Brownlee

April 21, 2021

I’m not particularly interested in condemning the overt racism and shameless cultural appropriation displayed throughout the 1930 film King of Jazz. The preposterous title of the Paul Whiteman vehicle exposes the absurdly disgraceful premise. Needless to say, little in the vaudevillian revue has aged well. Yet King of Jazz offers extremely instructive insights into the popular culture of 90 years ago. I learned a great deal when I watched it for the first time this week. The most essential segment- a visually lavish rendition of “Rhapsody in Blue”- begins with Whiteman’s terribly offensive introduction of George Gershwin’s composition at the 51:38 mark of the embedded video.

William Brownlee

April 15, 2021

Book Review: Adam Gussow- Whose Blues? Facing Up to Race and the Future of the Music

William Brownlee

April 15, 2021

Prior to reading Whose Blues? Facing Up to Race and the Future of the Music, I wouldn’t have given a second thought to my enjoyment of Chris Cain’s new album Raisin' Cain. The journeyman revives the classic sound of B.B. King with uncanny accuracy. Yet Adam Gussaw’s searing examination of the racial aspect of the blues permanently annihilated my capacity to nonchalantly indulge in such simple pleasures.

The implications of a white American- no matter how talented or well-intentioned- reworking a black art form inextricably linked to oppression of African Americans is fraught with complication. While I was initially resistant to Gussaw’s assertions, his profound personal experiences and exacting scholarship convinced me that unmindful appreciation of blues power is morally irresponsible.

Gussaw lays out cases for the competing claims about the music. The proprietary “black bluesist” camp is diametrically opposed to the historically agnostic and ostensibly colorblind “blues universalists.” The extensive research Gussaw references makes it clear neither side has it entirely right. Whites encouraged and contributed to the development of the music from the onset.

In addition to discrediting the commonly held notion that the blues was forged on Mississippi plantations, Gussow mocks the rockist mythology that elevated Robert Johnson from a virtual unknown into an iconic figure. Obviously, the cultural appropriation he documents recurred in additional forms including jazz, rock, soul and hip-hop.

While he generally treads lightly, Gussaw sometimes can’t hold back. He openly mocks the tone-deaf culture of blues societies and is unable to hide his disdain for white blues artists ranging from Janis Joplin to Marcia Ball. He suggests the likes of Aki Kumar and Komson represent the best hope for a meaningful blues revival.

More than a third of Whose Blues is dedicated to literary criticism. Gussaw’s extensive analysis of the writings of W.C. Handy, Langston Hughes, Zora Neale Hurston, Ralph Ellison, Richard Wright and August Wilson is a surprising but welcome tangent. Grateful for Gussaw’s insights, I’ve since picked up a Library of America anthology of Hurston’s work.

Gussaw would almost certainly be pleased by my interest in Hurston, but he’d surely find fault in my inability to adjust my sincere affection for the music made by white boogie-crazed blooze-rock stalwarts in Kansas City. Most of these artists are so far removed from the blues tradition that reflective self-authentication would be pointless. Should Gussaw analyze this thriving subgenre, I suggest he title the book What Blues?: The Whitewashing of America’s Musical Roots.

William Brownlee

April 9, 2021

Album Review: Max Richter- Voices 2

William Brownlee

April 9, 2021

Original image of a portion of Jose Vela Zanetti’s mural at the United Nations by There Stands the Glass.

I’m a Prius-driving, The New York Times-subscribing liberation theologist. Even so, I detest getting preached at by sanctimonious do-gooders. That’s why Max Richter’s Voices, an ambitious 2020 album dedicated to the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, repels me. Voices 2 rectifies the heavy-handed blunder with predominantly instrumental pieces based on the same theme. As a committed fan of the British composer, I’m swayed by the subtler versions of the purposeful music on selections like "Prelude 2".

William Brownlee

April 7, 2021

Album Review: Signum Saxophone Quartet- Echoes

William Brownlee

April 7, 2021

World Saxophone Quartet was a favorite among critics for publications like The Village Voice when I first committed to becoming conversant in improvised music. In the pre-internet era, terrestrial jazz radio was almost as stiflingly conservative as it is today. I was forced to imagine the sounds made by the collective of Hamiet Bluiett, Julius Hemphill, Oliver Lake and David Murray.

While my guesswork was entirely illogical, I was surprised at the sparseness of the music when I finally heard a World Saxophone Quartet recording. The lush sound of Echoes, the Signum Saxophone Quartet album released by Deutsche Grammophon in January, is more in keeping with what I’d expected.

Cellist Hila Karni joins the quartet on a breathtaking arrangement of Max Richter’s popular “On the Nature of Daylight” and Paul Hindemith’s melancholy “Trauermusik: IV. Choral.” A serene cover of Joep Beving’s “Ab Ovo” further validates Signum’s overt crossover bid. The voice of Grace Davidson fills out an interpretation of Gabriel Faure’s “Pie Jesu.”

Signum’s repertoire spans centuries. Echoes opens with John Dowland’s luminous “Lachrimae Antiquae” (1604) and closes with Guillermo Lago’s haunting “Ciudades: Sarajevo (Bosnia and Herzegovina)” (2011), the only piece specifically written for a saxophone quartet.

In spite of their different orientations, Signum and World Saxophone Quartet aren’t terribly dissimilar. A recent performance of selections from Echoes indicates the four Europeans are capable of brief bursts of freewheeling swing.

Having suffered through a time of comparative deprivation, I’m immensely grateful to live in an era in which the universe of recorded music that includes dozens of saxophone quartets is accessible with an internet connection. In 2021, limiting oneself to familiar sounds is a willful act of self-harm.

William Brownlee

April 4, 2021

Album Review: Dopolarians- The Bond

William Brownlee

April 4, 2021

The extended quarantine, along with the savage relentlessness of time, enhances my appreciation of past experiences. While it didn’t seem significant 20 years ago, I’m immensely gratified I had the foresight to catch a set led by the esteemed saxophonist Kidd Jordan at the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival in 2001. And joining an audience of a few dozen for a set by the Brian Blade Fellowship during the Kansas City Jazz & Heritage Festival in 2017 now seems like an impossibly glorious dream.

Jordan, 85, didn’t participate in the recording of The Bond, the new album led by his band Dopolarians. And following the passing of the eminent drummer Alvin Fielder, Jr. in 2019, Blade joined saxophonist Chad Fowler, trumpeter Marc Franklin, pianist Christopher Parker, bassist William Parker and vocalist Kelley Hurt for the deeply spiritual free jazz date.

Blade and Parker are renowned masters, but their lesser known band mates in the latest version of Dopolarians are worthy collaborators. Unlike similar recordings in which free-form vocalizing is a distracting hindrance, Hurt’s contributions enhance the sacrosanct tone. The six culturally cognizant musicians strive for- and repeatedly attain- spiritual epiphanies. There’s almost no chance Dopolarians will ever make an appearance in Kansas City, but I’m confident the stars will align to provide me with another unforgettable experience in a more hospitable environment.

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I catch up with three Mike Dillon albums at Plastic Sax.

William Brownlee

March 31, 2021

Album Review: Domenico Lancellotti- Raio

William Brownlee

March 31, 2021

I’m slogging through Finian’s Rainbow as part of my increasingly irksome pledge to become fully conversant in musicals. The gorgeous cinematography in the 1968 film directed by Francis Ford Coppola is the most compelling element of the jarringly dated Fred Astaire and Petula Clark vehicle. Raio, the latest release from the Brazilian artist Domenico Lancellotti, is similarly anachronistic. Tracks like "Vai a Serpente" sound as if the studio group Toto is further polishing the already refined songs of Antonio Carlos Jobim. Just as Finian’s Rainbow is salvaged by stunning visuals, Raio is elevated by glittering wall-of-sound production. Spectacular on headphones, the album has been added to my short list of audio reference recordings. (Tip via S.A.)

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Aaron Rhodes and I yack about the latest releases from Lana Del Ray and Benny the Butcher and vehemently disagree about the merits of a 1988 album by the Business in the latest episode of our In My Headache podcast.

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Recently at the Kansas City jazz blog Plastic Sax: an audacious proposal for a specialized music streaming service and appreciation for a nice surprise from the Wild Women of Kansas City.

William Brownlee

March 28, 2021

Album Review: Floating Points, Pharoah Sanders and the London Symphony Orchestra- Promises

William Brownlee

March 28, 2021

I was repeatedly reprimanded during a stimulating set by Pharoah Sanders at Blues Alley in 2015. I disregarded the prohibition on photos and my unruly enthusiasm was deemed disruptive by the staff of the refined Washington D.C. venue. I was simply unable to contain my excitement at seeing the cosmic jazz legend for the first time. The 80-year-old saxophonist continues to thrill. Promises, a new collaboration with Sam Shepherd, the British electronic musician who operates as Floating Points, is no less essential than Sanders’ work of the ‘60s and ‘70s. Rather than replicating those seminal grooves, Sanders soars through ethereal clouds of bells, bleeps and hums created by Floating Points and the London Symphony Orchestra. Vastly superior to the majority of pointy-headed third-stream endeavors, the celestial Promises is a launch pad for astral projections. Blues Alley’s bouncers no longer need to dread my return. Promises has me permanently blissed out.