• Tom Weeks •
"For in art we have to do not with any agreeable or useful child's play, but with the unfolding of the truth." -- Hegel
Uttered in his lectures on Aesthetics and reiterated in epigraph by Adorno in "Philosophy of New Music," this pithy chestnut also summarizes the ethos of Weeks' artistic and musical modus operandi. Make no mistake, the element of play is clearly an imporant aspect of his work -- his ability to land lines in an improvised setting bespeaks to compositional forebearers as diverse as Coleman, Mitchell, Parker, Blythe, Boulez, Dolphy, Stravinsky and Kaoru Abe -- but Weeks takes the notion of play very seriously. The truth unfolds in the blink of an eye as Weeks plays the history of jazz and improvised music, synthesizes it with his own singular compositional ideas, and breathes new life into music that has one foot in narrativism and one foot in abstraction. Through the adventure of play, Weeks arrives at truth.
This is not the truth of the solitary thinker, cloistered in the abbey of monastic thought, but a collective tribunal dispensing the Hard Facts of Life in a formalistic quartet format. Weeks has assembled an ass kicking band to ensure that these Hard Facts are not diluted by verisimilitude. Safa Shokrai on bass, Jose Fernando Solares on tenor saxophone, and Gerald Cleaver on drums operate in tandem with a complete empathy for these tunes. Rather than simply being Tom's band, the band's love for this music is easily discerned from a cursory listen. There is a certain ebuillent joy present in the music; even when the music is stately, plaintive, contemplative. Wallace Stevens once said that "Lenin was not the man for the swans" -- these artists, by contrast, are the band for this music.
I have spent many, many hours playing with Tom in settings of the free improvsatory and free jazz nature, and while his propensity for maximalism is clearly on display in those settings, these tunes play up his incredible sensitivity to melodicism. While these pieces are indebted to 20th century modernism -- they are largely harmonically dense, terse pieces of music -- Tom is developing melodic motifs from start to finish. Again, this is made even more apparent by an incredible sympatico band. The angular blues of a piece like "Oakland Rot" clearly takes a cue from one of Tom's favorite jazz classics, Julius Hemphill's "Hard Blues," and develops the melodic content behind a lurching blues vamp. This is interrupted by the stabbing riffs of the band setting ablaze that pages of the story Tom is writing. Like most of the record, it is a small aesthetic miracle.
There is much to say about the other tracks on this record. Why not investigate in media res? There's a specific narrative narrative here from start to finish, but there's little incentive to rob you from that experience. A good preface tells you not what you are to experience, but rather cobbles together the very material from the wellspring and gives you a cool drink of water instead of baptizing you in the river. "Sitting In The Catbird's Seat" is a piece of music that plays with your expectations. What should be a vehicle for soloistic expression is presented as hyperbole -- Tom's extended technique vocabulary is particularly well displayed on this piece. "Nailed," on the other hand, rests on no pretense. It is a tune designed to display some absolutely gorgeous Dolphy-isms.
The opening track, "Jerusalem" and the tune which sits smack dab in the middle, "Prometheus" both share a concern with the stately. Both pieces convey an almost Ives-like fascination with the construction of simple melodic content that conveys a sense of nation-building. While "Jerusalem" is content with its statement as such, "Prometheus Rising" turns into a fantastic jazz piece; the band opening up just enough space to give Weeks a lyrical solo.
The final two tracks of this album are my favorite. "Andrea" and "Kazuto Sato" bespeak to an artist's appreciation for an artist, not merely in the letter, but the spirit. Both tracks are rooted deeply in the blues -- the former wistful, the latter brooding.
What Tom brings to the table musically -- an open-hearted inventiveness that welcomes the past but is never restrained by it and is always taking it on new adventures -- is likely born from his attitude towards life. Partly through my own friendship with Tom, I have learned that this is the path, both musically and personally. "The Catbird Seat" is a special album. You do not necessarily have to enjoy it, you must merely accept that it expresses a certain truth: life is art. Occasionally, sentimentalism exists in a one-to-one correspondence with truth. In such cases, you must accept sentiment for what it is. A handmaiden of truth.
Tom Weeks - Alto Saxophone
Gerald Cleaver - Drums
Safa Shokrai - Bass
Jose Fernando Solares - Tenor Saxophone
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