2003: [liner notes for MotherMing's eponymous and only record.]

Reasons.  They wanted liner notes and liner notes they shall have (though more than they bargained for at that).  About the music, there’s not much to say.  Say what?  Some heads won’t get it.  And hell if I care.  If it’s about anything, it’s about going places — and even that meek attempt at an explanation is cryptic.

 

I think too much and it’s not worth my time.  But that’s a fix I’ll never kick.  My folks are just proud I haven’t cursed yet.  

 

Music is a simultaneously soothing and agitational artform and these cats can play.  Straight ahead, funky or hip-hop… phantom distinctions here… with Mo’Ming it’s about doing what they do.  

 

And these tunes are barely a taste.  Chosen mostly because they were easy to record or sickeningly catchy (…I wonder if they’ll actually print that…).  But moms always say put your best foot forward.

 

And break it off in someone’s ass.

 

(Sorry Mom.)

 

Apologizing for execution, not intent.

 

So be moved.  Be moved to dance, be moved to jump — to shout, to laugh, and cry.  We dedicate this to influences and role models.  The music isn’t abstract, but it is real.  I just hope some heads do get it.

 

Call us funk, call us jazz, call us hip-hop — Whatever tickles.  It’s a love thing, you know.  They wanted liner notes, and liner notes they got.

 

They can find their own reasons.

 

– akie bermiss 2/21/03  12:45am

 

insurgency. emergency. back at the desk.

Bermiss, Akie. 2008.

From blogstuffs

good morning all.  its the year 2009.  and i, your hapless neighborhood musician and blogger, am back on the horse.  its been a difficult few months.  what with brokeness and hunger and electical bills being damnably high.  and i haven’t been writing.  not on the blog.  and this, now.  when i should most definitely have been writing on it.  so much going on.  so much happening.  so many things coming to fruition.  i feel, now, like everything i should have said is over.  and now i am left trying to express further things further in the past.  more and more irrelevant.  or unnecessary.

***

last night was the completion of a year+ long project.  the premier (and only appearance in that incarnation) of Belinda Swaby’s Grace And Mercy Me.  the play for which i have spent precisely the last twelve months writing original music.  Belinda met me at Saje back when i was playing Sundays with the Mimetiks there and told me she wanted to put on a musical.  she gave me the script.  i dug it.  we decided to make it happen.  so using her lyrics i put together five original songs: My Advice, Looking For Love, It Hurts, Perfect Harmony, and Fly Away (which i still refer to in my mind as: Darkest Day).

Last night, at the Black Spectrum Theatre in Jamaica, New York.  We put the show on.  After a year of trying to do a full-on production we had to face facts and just go with a shorter hour-long skit version of the play.  including all the original songs, but significantly fewer cast members and a sort of abridged plotline. i put a band together of Kyle Jaster, Aaron Steele, and myself.  Couldn’t swing any back-up singers for what we had… so i sang the back-up lines while Music Directing.  and the play came off well.

its always nice to finish a project.  close the book on it, so to speak.  next may come a recording of the music.  or some sort of film version of the script.  or an attempt to make the production bigger… we’ll see, dear reader.  we shall see.

***

Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday of last week was the aabaraki studio recording session.  that is myself, Brian Forbes (on guitar and mild horn), Ari Folman-Cohen (on bass and argyle sweater), and Aaron Steele (on drums and, of course, Blackberry.) I think it was back in September that Aaron first asked me to come out to a session in the Bushwick/Williamburg.  We drove over to the spot and i was introduced to Mr. Forbes and Mr. Folman-Cohen.  we set up our respective instruments.  and played.

aaron ‘juse’ steele

out of this session came three tracks of varying lengths (though 8 minutes is a fine average).  no singing.  all playing.  there’s a funky one… an outSide one… and then a sort disparate, mid-melt cohesive one… a sick combination of our four sounds.  a month later (?) we met again, this time to try our hand at putting some tracks together possibly.  we set up a mic, went back into the room, turned on the instruments and reShaped sound once more.  eidolon, the shaping, the summoned-forth spirit-walker is called Aabaraki.

ari folman-cohen

so four months and some 12 or thirteen tracks later.  we set up to record at The Gallery.  and went to work.  twelve hour days is no thang when you’re recording in this fashion.  trying to get a whole album done.  not just a single or EP.  and this was just the beginning.  working out tempos.  playing to a click.  doing scratch vocals.  making several takes.  and then going on to the next number.  energy is high, then low, focused, then diffuse… but all the while music is getting churned out.  in between, there is some driving and some sleeping (and i had to run out and do a tech rehearsal for Grace and Mercy Me on thursday night for two hours).  i don’t remember much.  but word is, from B, that the music sounds good.  and so now… the long dark night of editing and mixing.

Me.
but remember this, dear reader, Aabaraki is.

***

then there is the small matter of Daniel Jose Older and his mysterious musical worlds.  Burundanga contiues to play.  in fact, we played once again at 169Bar on friday night (after a full day of recording for me.  i honestly have almost no recollection of the event — so exhausted was i.)  And Daniel working up for a big show called the City of Love and Disaster in march at the TriBeCa Performing Arts Center.  so big gear u.  learning alot of new music.  alternately through-composed and openly improvisatory.  i really only know the music end which is cool enough, but it seems like he’s got a crack team working on the staging and such.  it is probably going to come off spectacularly.  so i’ll keep you posted.  otherwise, look for Burundanga around the city at 169Bar and Le Toukeleur (in the BK) and sitch.

***
akiebermissquartet ’08

***

that said, all the other projects are still on as well.  a couple of song-writing projects, a possible independent film score, FacetheMusic, the akie bermiss quartet*, et cetera.  and then, of course, the UNknown.  which too may present itself and alter the courses of all things.

evidence, at last.

i’ll make this brief.  a while back i might have mentioned working with a singer named Mika in Harlem.  or i mentioned meeting her after a truncated mimetiks a la steele show at The Shrine club.  several weeks later, i came to a rehearsal of hers at UltraSound Studios and met the soon-to-be erstwhile keyboard player while they practiced for an upcoming gig.  i sort of listened.  played along a bit on acoustic piano.  and took some notes (it was this encounter that sent me sprawling homeward to finally learn how to play SWV’s “Weak”).

the following week.  i played my first gig with Mika et al.

… and it went a lil’ sumpin’ like this:

Mika @ SOLOMON’S PORCH from M Jean Baptiste on Vimeo.

aamir and the complete works of william shakespeare

two full months later: i’m still here.

today, i turned my suitcase rhodes keyboard into a very awkward black desk.  i like desks.  let it be known.  few things give my soul a sense of greater satisfaction that sitting a well-made, open, sprawling desk.  its my favorite spot in any hotel room.  i got to it first.  some people like the beds.  or the bathrooms (in a really nice hotel this can be pretty ridiculous).  others check-in and go straight to the pool and/or fitness room.  others still find happiness in a t.v.  not I, good sirs and lady-sirs.   i go first, and promptly, to the desk.  wipe away the advertisments or television channel guides.  and i set down my books, my papers, and my computer.  i immediately scout for the complimentary pens.  these usually suck.  but occasionally you’ll get a good one — even in a not-so-shishi place (Country Inn and Suites… i’m talking about you.  good work on the stationary and pens.)  i like to have something to write.  so its fortunate that i am often in the enviable position of needing to write something.  i’m normally in a hotel or motel for musical purposes.  meaning: charts, lyrics, setlists… i like to write them out.  less efficien? yes.  more fun? absolutely!

as a senior in college i rented a personal carrel (i thought they were spelled carrol, for quite some time) before classes even began.  and even though i had to do most of my work in front of the piano… any time i could work with just pen, paper, and reference materials: i was up in the remotest section of the Bard Library (periodicals, my friends) listening often to Paul Hindemith or Sonny Rollins… and writing.

so how, you ask, could i have gone so long with out one?  in deed!  well its all about quality.  i don’t like rinky-dinky desks.  if that’s all that available.  i think i’d just rather not have one.  i’ll use a cleared-away table as a desk for a while.  that can be nice.  but i really like desks.  the three or four stints i’ve had in regular office jobs i have always been delighted to have my own desk.  a well-stocked desk is a bonus.  rubber bands, paper clips, pencils, reams of printer paper, an assortment of pens and pencils, bookends (very fancy!), maybe a complimentary coffee mug.

oh i do so love a good desk.  and i have alot of trouble writing with out a spacious desk which to sit at.   (ya like that?!)  2008 is drawing (however slowly) inexorably to a close.  and i want to hit ’09 running.  this year started out ALL fucked up.  and there was just not way to get it right.  it was like you’ve started a race, but missed the gunshot and tripped and there was mud in your lane.  there’s no starting over.  so you just have to run this race out.  on the other hand, i am still quite trepidatious.  all my masterful plans of late ’07 came crashing down unexpectedly.  i hope for better fortunes this winter/christmas/newyears.

it begins, simply, with a nice desk where my computer can sit while i use it.  or while i listen to podcasts or watch MSNBC and write correspondences with my siblings or jonathan ronsani. where i can pick about 10 – 15 books to be at the ready for whatever should come to pass (inevitably, i pick some grouping that does not betray my more casual more, more genre-loyal reading).  I like a good bit of nonficition.  but only the kind i expect to read again or to read bits of again.  this includes bios, histories, and music law consultations.  if there is to be fiction, it will most like be the next few books i am meaning to read.  so that i know, when i finish whatever i am currently on, i can grab the next quickly.  also, a few articles, plays, and books of poetry (currently Milton and Rilke are holding it down).  and my piece de resistance?  no long my La Roche Oepdipus trilogy, my Forsyth Orchestration book, or the article Emma gave me: “The Problem With White Hipness: Race, Gender, and Cultural Conceptions in Jazz Historical Discourse.”  though these have all been past title holders.

it is now, my brandspankin’ new The Complete Works of William Shakespeare.    yes… i like shakespeares.  i gets down on it.  if you think i don’t read Shakespeare aloud to Biggie… then you had the great fortune of not living near me during the winters of 2004 (when Bill gave me the BBC King Lear with Gielgud) and 2005 (when i discovered Throne of Blood, Ran, Pacino’s Merchant of Venice within a few weeks of each other).

back then: i really knew how to make a racket.

***

its morning.  and i’ve gotten up.  made the coffee.  turned on the news.  and, of course.  right away: dolly jumps into my bed and steals into my residual warmth.  oh what dames these cats be!

From blogstuffs

evidence to the contrary

they say its all grit, grime, and gruesomeness.  and they are not entirely lying.  the whole pricture is hard to paint precisely.   but suffice it to say, one could get a good impression of the state of things from looking at my room on any given monday morning… a splay of seemingly endless sheets of hand-scrawled leadsheets.  fakebooks galore.  half-wet, half-drowned mugs of coffee.  broken pencils and spent pens.  single socks every couple feet or so.  and a severely depressed futon mattress.

that tells most of the tale.  of evenings and afternoons.  of long drives and stubby cigars.  thrice as many failures as successes, but something approaching (if asymptotically) satisfaction.

and occasionally, there are brilliant happy nights where great things go down.  toward that end — i give you this, the full video of Burundanga’s Farewell To Jud party from a few weeks ago.  i only hope it is as enjoyable to you as it was to me to play it.

akie

Burundange – Up On The Roof

ps. more mirror cleanings to come soon.  i took a brief Olympic break from writing.  but i’m back.  square and wistful as ever.

the resettling of vespucci

it was: good. very very good. insofar as working weekends go… it was pretty much tops. everyone knows that… no matter how good the gigs are… a weekend with multiple musical outtings can be pretty exhausting. hauling your gear first… to the car, then to the gig, unloading, playing, then reloading… then driving home (probably at like 1 in the morning) only to get up the next day… probably didn’t sleep right, right? probably went to be around 430. should have just stayed up til the 530-6a sweet spot and then slept till 11 or so. but no… down at 4…. maybe 5. up at eight. first things first… coffee. emails… (especially if, like me, you have yet reasoned out how to save up and make an excuse to buy an iphone just so you can check your emails ANYWHERE!) then… you got that second gig later, so you better go over the music (unless its like a jazz hit or something and you can just show up and play some standards.) do that. try to find everything you’ll need. then a little time with the sweetheart. sometimes difficult to remember where you are if your seeing notes or lyrics or fretting over a 13 bar verse section into a sudden tumbao. but with enough coffee, one can be in two places at once and mostly stave off anxiety for later… for later. maybe a shower? eh. maybe not. then into the car, to face city traffic… perhaps half of Flatbush is closed down. and you’re trying to hit three succinct spots in Brooklyn… all on opposite sides of the Park. better light a cigar for that. make it one place. make to the next. haul the gear back out. maybe up four flights? to a roof. (if you’re doing this with your new keyboard… the heavy metal and wood one… well be prepared to be sore on Monday) set up, perhaps. well maybe just block out positions then have a beer and some food. then cigar number 2? then set-up. well, then it might rain. you might try to rush the small stuff in and cover the big stuff. wait it out for a couple of minutes. then come back. check the clouds and re-engage. at this point you’ll likely have to deal with a slightly wily (perhaps very uncomfortable) landlord who is worried about cats being on the roof AND partying. so then there’ll be restrictions. and reasons to change the blocking. then maybe, reconsider. reblock. and then maybe one more time. then play. stop. drink, chat. play again… contemplate cigar number three. but then decide not to be totally decadent. play again. stop? well…. another tune… and then a finale… and then: stop. rap with the band. shake the hands. cards, numbers, promises. and then hit the gear again. call the sweetheart? say goodnight or try for a quick midnight rendez-vous (make sure you spell the french right and get the tense right [rhymes!]– cause she may be reading…)? ah… go for it. so pack up like a madman. and try to get the keyboard down alone. it goes in first. always. then back up for the rest of the stuff. the sundry accoutrements: keyboard stand, mic stand, music stand (and people ask me why i’m alway standing), amp, and bookbag (with the as yet unsmoked third cigar… let’s just say its a… what?… CAO Gold, maybe?) get that down. in the car. and drive back PAST the park. the downstairs is locked. so not sweetness at midnight. but a forlorn call, while you gun it back up to home. buy some crap food. park… about .333 miles from house. gather the bookbag (with all the music, clothes, and toiletries from this weekend), the box of cigars UPS delivered on friday that you just brought on the road with you, and — oh yeah! — the food. cover the keys with… blanket, sheet, winter jacket, some detritus from the floor (anything to make it not look like a keyboard… but like a crappy ford car with nothing of worth in it). come home. eat. tabulate. disrobe. and sleep.

yes, it can be pretty exhausting. that’s for damned sure. but… what if the gig on saturday night was at a great little bistro in Upstate, NY. tucked up in the ____(?)____ Mountains. and the band is a couple of cats you’ve played with before and are glad to see. well, even without a bass player and having to be creative with the two-hands (and the dwarfy.. late-to-the-instrument technique) but that all in all it sounds good. and even at times (dare i say: most of the time?) it sounded really good. well you’ll be pretty damned happy. and you’ll all be saying, “damn. we should play more often. we’d be killing this shit!” so that even the late drive back to brooklyn (a good 2.4 hours) is not so bad. (there IS a cigar involved, of course).

bedtime is cool. you’re ready to stay up til the come-up (sunshine, that is). but sleep ain’t halfbad. and its twice as nice with non-feline company. then, an early wake up could mean that you have to go it alone for a few hours. still feeling pretty good from the gig. you float over to the local cafe and get some frackin-serious Brooklyn coffee. drink. type. drink. type. then hang.

the second gig is private rooftop affair. not bread-a-la-bread, but its in Brooklyn. so bread is secondary to the pleasure of: Brooklyn Rooftop House Party for a Friend. and the view will kick your ass for days and weeks (even yours truly… afraid of heights over six feet and heights under… that part of the atmosphere where you start falling up. the music, is beautiful. a combination of cuban, soul, and the fire of many minds fusing. a particular sound: drums, el. bass, keys, congas, djembe, cello, and trumpet. many things are possible. one finds oneself singing. and then singing unencumbered. and the stark emergency exity lights, and the height, and the industrial/urban soul of the roof seems to take over. wind, and moon, and night press in. and, yes, the ancestors come down to this place. and dance. spirits. spirits. won’t you come on in the room?!

ah. when you finally get to sleep sunday night (its actually 605am Monday morning… just in case, he says.) you wake up just before noon. its monday. and, it seems like, a whole different America has come. and gone. he says.

find the cats. find the couch. and take it: slow.

—-

tomorrow night, i’m playing an Obama benefit in New York. at the Beechman Theatre up on W. 42nd St and 9th Avenue. Underneath the West Bank Cafe (think of Yishay’s photographs for some reason). and though its only for about 30-35 minutes, i’m pretty excited. got a couple of, as yet, unperformed arrangment of Stevie and Donny… that’ve been bouncing around the apartment (and my head) for sometime.

information?

http://my.barackobama.com/page/event/detail/4gjvw

and now: some colorful lights and meaningful sounds to lull me to sleep.

beauty in strangeness

Beauty In Strangeness

track listing:

1. Alive and Burning

2. Leave Autum (alone)

3. Beauty In Strangeness

4. Interlude # 1

5. the pequod

6. trio (for the end of time)

7. Tuesday Night Lights

personnel:

akie bermiss, fender rhodes keyboard

daniel beiber, upright bass

constantine anastasakis, drums

engineered by: Zach Dunham at Blum Studio April 2006

Co-Produced by: Zach Dunham and Akie Bermiss

(all compositions by Aamir Bermiss ‘Akie’ except: “Alive And Burning” by Daniel Beiber; and “Leave Autumn” by John Esposito; “trio (for the end of time)” contains material from Oliver Messiaen’s Quator Por La Fin Du Temps

cleaning the mirror

wow, well, i feel a little bad about this. a good week since the last post. and what do i have to show for it. a little less broke, perhaps. but wearing my month heavily about the shoulders. and even now, as i write this, i am readying to go out and get some food. maybe browse for books.

its the end of July and i am staring down the barrel of 2008 with, seriously, great trepidation. whenever i do get the opportunity to sit down and work on my own music i don’t seem to have much to say. i feel a constriction in my mind. like a pressure. is it past? is it present? i can’t certainly say. the tension of knowing that for all that has come before, there is greater pressure to do even better in the future. and to say what? to sing what? to be whom?

but then, while driving through CT on I-95 the other day i had a revelation. clean the mirror, clean the mirror, clean the mirror. every piece of work, every gig, album, blog post, journal entry… they are all bits and pieces of the reflection of the artist. and with each attempt to get back down the path comes the necessary cleansing of the pallette. but what would happen if, say, with each attempt one created a finished product that never saw the light of day? here is this path full of the shattered detritus of unseen semi-miracles. how can the mirror be cleaned? there is mess everywhere.

like a cluttered desk, nothing can be done here. i need to make some room for the new shit.

and so — to that end — begin the mirror cleansing series. hoping that by throwing out these things, i may find my mind a wider place. all these so many aborted foetuses! attempt upon attempt upon attemp to do each on to the best of my ability with those whom i deemed the best candidates as collaborators but almost everyone of them… snuffed out too soon. or finished, but never given the chance to shine. dead that. today we open up the annals and let the debris have its day.

first up was an easy one. while, to be blunt, there is enough aborted material in here (my mind? my harddrive? my cd book?) to cause a right-wing riot — its best to start with the completed works. the ones that smacked of “almost finished” and then came to no future. the best example is the trio date: beauty in strangeness.

sometime ago i wrote about this in my other blog. to save you the trouble of having to read my tortured musings here i will post the actual musical content above this… in an entry of it’s own. you know… just as music. here i’ll satisfy my need to explain… by explaining.

sometime in the winter of 2005, i was living in the rectory. making my rent every month by some miracle of saving, hoarding, and wishing. i was otherwise living ostensibly on $50 bucks a week from Bard College for accompanying jazz singers. Esposito scored me the gig and to him i am eternally grateful. i’d most assuredly have withered away to nothing in those chill and lean days. i was drinking a liter of sweetened, but dark coffee every morning for breakfast (i know it was a liter because i would wake up, brew a pot and pour the entirety of it into my large green Nalgene. then go to Bard to borrow John’s office and practice. i know it was sweetened but dark because i know i couldn’t really afford milk — i mean at 22 who really needs milk? — but i had bucketloads of sugar). Zach Dunham was working on his studio engineer chops and asked me if i wanted to try and put something together for him to record in the spring. like… some music and a band…and play in the studio… free of charge? AND he wanted me to use the rhodes… i mean we’re talking hog heaven. i, of course, first imagine way too much at once. spent all my numerous free hours with a bottle of wine (was giving piano lessons by that point. a little more bread for the creature comforts: heavy cream, red wine, and various edible meats) and my Casio Privia. my original intention was to do a trio with singer and then an electric quintet with sax and trumpet (essentially the senior project Sorce Band… with trumpet instead of trombone). but something happened. i wrote too much material, spread myself too thin. couldn’t hear it. and one day i was thinking about the piece Dan Beiber had written for Zach in his moderation concert a year earlier (entitled: For Zach, Alive and Burning)… and then i stumbled across an old CD Kyle Gann had give me of Messsiaen’s Quartet Por La Fin Du Temps (or some such thing as that, he says)… and the glorious finally violin/piano duet. ah… sublime, for sure. and it hit me. a fenderRhodestrio. yes! spoke to zach about it. he was game. rhodes, acoustic bass, and trap set.

now… the perfect band for this vision. had to be fresh. had to be new. had to be challenging. when i think about it now… its so very simple. Dan, Constantine, and me. in the studio, for a good two days. perfect. the dynamic had a beautiful blend in my becurs-ed head. that, i’d been to see Constantine play a number of times around campus. always really dug his playing. ears like no drummer should ever have. inexplicable timing. and a completely impregnable demeanor. and he played with a sudden shifting shunting changing time. hyper… fast… slow… incredibly loud… incredibly soft. like a man with a wheel-barrow going slightly uphill and then slightly downhill and the back up… and then back down…and the way up… and the suddenly — BLAM! — down. meanwhile Daniel played and, likely still plays, like a man being dragged down hill by a very heavy wagon. the further a song goes the deeper, it seems, his store of energy. his willingness to play out. his intensity. already, this would be a potent combo (in fact, i considered trying to initiate a duet… but i am wiser now than i was then, i suppose. and then i couldn’t figure out how to create the musical context). then add to it, me. i play, almost always, like a man trying to push an ass up a very steep ravine. blame it on my lack of technical prowress. i’m slow. got big, slow, clumsy fingers. but… they seem to find the rear part of the beat of the beat pretty easily. so i let them fall there. fat, slow, and deliberate. so, really… we had the whole beat covered, i guess.

and then, it was just a matter of material.

long story short: i wrote five pieces and arranged that tune of Dan’s. most of the songs were just expanded versions/forms of music from my senior concert: Beauty In Strangeness – my attempt to reconcile… well, much of what is in me. but, call it… over romanticism meets Sun Ra…; Leave Autumn (alone) – my extreme reduction of a John Esposito composition based on the melody of Autumn Leaves … backwards. that is, he turned it backwards. played it for us a couple of times. and i loved it. so i “sampled” without telling him for my senior concert. he was… surprised.; the pequod — essentially my sorrowful retelling of the story bits of Moby Dick. you know… but like… as if it were a level of some 8bit Nintendo game… like, i always think of MegaMan for some reason. underwater. its strange, i know. i apologize, i guess; and finally, the aptly named: trio (for the end of time) – is like what might happen if Messiaen and Ornette had jammed for bit. probably i was trying to emulate the terrific triple-meter masterpiece that was the Brad Mehldau trio playing She’s Leaving Home on Day Is Done. close? well, no. not really. but sort of its own, weirdo epic thing. which is probably, honestly, what i actually should have been going for. thank goodness for good collaborators.

for Alive and Burning, i basically just turned the chords around. slowed it way down. removed about half the changes. and kept Daniel’s beautiful melody, essentially, in place.

the only other track was an interlude Zach and I came up with to try and do some crazy mic-ing fo the rhodes. its… sort of worked… sort of didn’t… and we were basically being kicked out of the studio at that time. it was april 2006.

—-

later on, Zach did a quick mix of the tracks. all the blemishes still in tact. no splices or anything. some eq-ing, i’d bet. some compression? panning? not sure. he did his thing. and what remained. was this. which quickly… fell to the wayside. every now and again, i stumble across it. and i want to listen. and i’m pretty impressed with this thrown together conglomeration of individuals. it would have been cool to ever have played this music before an audience. it begged to be performed live.

i admire, more than anything, the three way counterpoint that comes through in the recording. the times sort of gliding in and out of synch. and yet, there is a remarkable — if somewhat forced — cohesion there.

today, i think, it might have sounded better with a real pianist. but wouldn’t have been nearly as fun for me. i am thrilled by the sounds herein. sorry — oh so sorry — that nothing came of them. and so… here i place them. part I of Cleaning the Mirror. i release this out into the world. in full form. though, not quite fully developed. not quite fully come of age.

may it bring you some… joy.

akie.

a NORDer country[part 1]

HELLO friends!

it has been quite the couple of weeks since our last rejoinder here. so much has happened. the second Burundanga show (now with Sita!) — making it two for two. more music is up on the site (myspace.com/burundangamusic) from that show. my younger sister graduated from Dartmouth College making it 4 for 4 for the bermisses and college. an essentially unprecendented percentage. and finally, the purchase of a long-awaited new keyboard. ever since about early fall 2004 (when my old Korg kicked the bucket after i flipped my car on the NY Thruway at 2 o’clock in the morning after the whitespace recording session AND all the older cats were making fun of me for trying to gig out with my rhodes) i’ve been using the first edition of the Casio Privia keyboards. lightweight (extremely light-weight), weighted keys, on-board speakers, and usuable (if not fantastic) acoustic and electric piano sounds. for a while that worked. i spent most of ’04 – ’05 using the Privia as my practice keyboard in my apartment. and i gigged with theFoundation on the rhodes exclusively. good thing to since the Privia was not really made for gigging. it was great for at-home use though. i remember writing “tuesday night lights” on it. in something like October of 2005, when i was just… ridiculously broke… mostly jobless… after John had put me in as the accompanist for the Bard Jazz Singers Workshop and i was getting a little bread… Bugalu called me to play the gig at the Black Swan in Tivoli. it took me a while to figure out how to connect my keyboard to an amp (it had 1/8″ inch outs… most instrument cables are quarter inches… i had to find a suitable adapter. it was a frackin’ nightmare). well after a couple of gigs there, i learned how to make the Privia sound, at least, acceptable coming through an amp. and have used it since on jazz gigs, blues gigs, weddings, and all that.

but in the winter of 2006 i saw the new keyboard player for the Eric Person band play a tiny red keyboard that, when he was finished with the gig, he put in a little red bag and put on his back. that was the first night i heard the Clavia Nord keyboard. in hindsight, i think he must’ve been using an electro, cause it was super-tiny. 66 keys. but the sounds this thing could make… i mean: wtf?! (to borrow from the hipsters). and this was in a jazz setting. anyway, i was jealous, but knew my place. and, at the time, had no idea what keyboard he’d been playing. just been amazed. a year later, i catch Aaron Steele’s Group A at a little dive in alphabet city, and his keyboardist is using the same little piano. richly, sexually red and a beauty in sound. some of the sounds were obviously home-made. mmm… it was good stuff. Aaron put me on the Nord Electro. and when it came time to buy (its been time for years): i looked to Nord. the stage pianos seemed the thing. not so light as the electros… but great power in processing… and weighted keys (which is a creature comfort of mine).

anyway… all this is pretty boring, i guess. the point is. i bought the 88 Nord Stage model yesterday. bit a hope and a prayer. but its about time i had a real keyboard. i love pianos… but i don’t get to play them often. and i certainly can’t drag my sustain-pedal-less rhodes out to every gig. so the Nord. mm-mm! i got it home yesterday afternoon… and basically haven’t stopped playing it. sent my eldest brother a happy birthday recording. and, in the heat of the excitement, started recording all sorts of things. things for the Mimetiks. things just for me. things for no one at all.

anyway… there’s this whole story i could tell you about Bach and the Well-Tempered Clavier…. but i won’t bore you further. instead… how about a reflection of my ecstaticness with this new instrument. the singing of songs, i wouldn’t dare have sung on the Privia… and only quietly sing in my room on the rhodes. please enjoy. there are more to come…

prettygirl (nordstuff)

akie

wired man. tired wren. many wrongs.

i face 4am with a steely resolve to wake up despite the nearness of dawn. though i have much to say, i think more can be gained by forestalling the saying to make you listen. last time i wrote about Burundanga. today: i give you the means to hear the past.

myspace.com/burundangamusic

be thou, then, satiated.

akie