There are plenty of prose and poetry journals in the world — we profiled one just a few weeks ago — but what about a comics journal? Award-winning anthology series Papercutter is just such a publication; this ongoing series is “dedicated to showcasing the best young, underexposed, and emerging comic-book artists.” Published quarterly by Tugboat Press in slim black-and-white volumes, the Portland-based zine has just released its 17^th issue of original comics stories.

Jason Martin provides the seven autobiographical stories for this issue, each illustrated by a different artist. Using a different artist for each story seems a bit unorthodox, but the effect is rewarding; a cohesive thread of thought runs through the book, but the art shifts in style and medium with each artist. Each story takes on a slightly different tone depending on the type of art used in it. Stories set earlier in Martin’s childhood have looser, more cartoon-ish art, while the college-era tales use tight pen-and-ink strokes.

Martin opens with a childhood story of his own beginnings in comic-book writing, in the affecting “The Weeper.” He connects his early days of writing Batman stories with a personal “self-control” problem at school. Martin’s shifts between his real life and the life of his character, “The Weeper,” are well handled, as is his realization that he roots for his “villainous” analogue more than for Batman. He writes about missing out on childhood mainstay Nickelodeon, and about seeing a pretty girl singing in her car at a streetlight. The latter story, “Streetlight,” is only six panels long, but the dynamic art really pops, and a relatable sense of after-school camaraderie says everything about this memory for Martin.

“Scenes from the Fire” is the longest and most interesting of the tales. The story describes a house fire in the author’s college years and really packs an emotional punch; there’s hopelessness in the face of totally unanticipated danger, college students perhaps too young to deal with something as scary as a house fire, and the aftermath of an event that, though not physically violent, has shaken our writer to the core. Martin is brutally honest in showing his attempts to cope with the fire and, afterwards, his realization that he can’t deal with it. Details, like Martin’s reaction to the smell and even mention of fire, will ring true for anyone who has had to deal with a trauma like his. The story, however, ends on a hopeful note of emotional recovery.

Artist Calvin Wong provides some innovative art for “Scenes”; his interest in experimentation appears in the way smoke wreathes around all of the panels on a page, or a character is seen through the fish eye of a front-door peephole. Even the opening page plays with the usual format of a comic; three panels show our protagonists being mistaken for homeless people in a café, before showing the burnt-out shell of their house looming behind and around the final panel with the note, “which I guess we were.” The juxtaposition is heartbreaking and surprising.

Three shorter stories close out the issue. “Avo” recalls a touching visit from Martin’s aging grandfather, while “Meditations” shows a recommendation from a stranger on a John Coltrane album. Finally, “The Weaving of a Dream” returns to childhood with a grade-school visit from a local author. Small moments give these stories an authenticity for which all personal comics should strive — such as Martin saying of his grandfather’s visit, “It was the first time he’d recognized me in years”; or the author in the final story saying that she added blood to a painting because she wanted to be a part of it, and a concerned teacher jumping in with, “But you shouldn’t try that at home!”

Basing a whole issue around one writer’s stories may stray from the usual purpose of an anthology, but Papercutter seems to have no problem with experimentation. Though most of its earlier issues have been organized more or less like a traditional anthology or journal, others feature “parallel stories” from different authors or stories structured around a certain theme. Papercutter provides an important service to young comics writers — after all, don’t most prose and poetry writers start their careers by submitting to journals? The other result, however, is a beautiful zine collecting a lot of great stories.

For Gloucester, MA-based Mystery Train Records, vinyl is the name of the game — it always has been and probably always will be. In fact, the store doesn't order any new records. If you're in the area and want to thumb through some carefully selected records — and maybe unearth a true vintage gem or two — look no further. We spoke with one of Mystery Train's employees, Tim, and he gave us the lowdown on how the Train just keeps on runnin'.

Tim holds The Rock Ensemble 77's Faces

What are the origins of Mystery Train?

Mystery Train began 30 years ago in Harvard Square, Cambridge selling only used vinyl (CDs did not exist), expanded over the years to five stores, then settled back to one large (most vinyl in New England) store in Gloucester, MA. Jack Evans, who originated the business, is now partners with Tim who will continue to focus on providing interesting vinyl for current and future generations of record fiends.

What does the store do particularly well — any specialty genres or formats?

I would say that vinyl is the main focal point of Mystery Train — although we carry other formats — vinyl is really the core of the store. I should also say that, as of now, we do not order any new records, so we are constantly unearthing interesting used records. We really try not to emphasize one genre over another. We aim to get exciting records in the store, regardless of genre, to keep the collectors, enthusiasts, learners, beat makers, DJs, and everyone in between satisfied.

Jack holds The Curtis Couce Quintet's Exploring The Future

How would you describe the music scene in Gloucester?

Gloucester is a bit outside of Boston, about 45 minutes north, so I would say that it allows some breathing room. The music here does not seem to feel as much pressure to follow the newest trends, creating some heartfelt and honest musicians, from rock-and-roll hero Willie "Loco" Alexander, to power-pop die-hard The Boyfriends, and a quiet but bubbling DJ and beat-making scene.

Which albums has your store sold the most over the past month?

Really, we have been selling a wide variety of records, ranging from a steady stream of Zeppelins and Dylans, to people in search of the soft soul and psych of Italy and France, deep southern soul, classic power pop, Coltrane and his many disciples, synth rarities, and again, everything in between.

Joey holds Nick Lowe and His Cowboy Outfit's The Rose of England

Does Mystery Train support local musicians and visual artists?

We do always have a local section where musicians sell their releases for no charge. We also have on display paintings by John Sarkin and collage works by Willie Alexander, two local artists. These guys are ingrained in Gloucester's deep artistic history, and their energy and enthusiasm seems captivating to many customers.

Any big future plans for the store?

We plan to keep unearthing vinyl gems for the store and satisfying the ravaging, vinyl-hungry masses.

Raga Bop Trio: s/t (Abstract Logix, 7/20/10)

Raga Bop Trio: "Tug of War"

Carnatic and Hindustani music, the classical music forms of North and South India, provide the base for the Raga Bop Trio. Saxophonist George Brooks is an established fixture in the Indian fusion scene as a devout student and purveyor of Hindustani music. He has collaborated with India’s most respected artists and his deep understanding of raga is a vital element to the trio’s melodic force. Guitarist Prasanna brings an avant-garde approach to the table by taking the ornamentations and tones found in South Indian Carnatic music and transferring them to the electric guitar. While he is able to mimic the subtle microtones of the sitar, he is also able to incorporate within them modern shape-shifting technology, demonstrated by his 2006 Carnatic/rock tribute to Jimi Hendrix, Electric Ganesha Land.

The rhythmic component of the trio is found in drummer Steve Smith, best known for his work with Journey. The virtuosic drummer, however, is a jack-of-all-trades type of player, providing the rhythmic foundation for jazz greats such Ahmad Jamal and Victor Wooten. While working with these two in 2002, Smith became fluent in the rhythmic underpinnings of Southern India.

Together, these three musicians put many different influences into play. Elements of rock, funk, and calypso find their way into a few tracks on the album. But ultimately, Raga Bop Trio is a thoroughly composed record that shows the effects of Indian music on jazz in full breadth.

John Coltrane was the first jazzman to truly fuse Indian music and jazz in dramatic fashion. Starting from Giant Steps and encompassing albums such as Impressions, Om, and Ascension, Coltrane’s stylistic transition is marked by the total abandonment of traditional harmonic structures. As he broke the Western harmonic boundary, his compositions integrated the elements of Indian music: rhythmic and metric variations, the sustain of the drone, and the use of one key which allowed movement between major and minor modes (much in the same way as raga).

The Raga Bop Trio is a descendent of this brand of jazz, finding new ways to push the East-meets-West dichotomy first made by Coltrane in the late 1950s. At the core of Indian classical music are two essential, interrelated basics: the raga, or melodic structure, and tala, or rhythmic cycle. Though the exclusion of the bass may be unusual in the Western jazz trio sense, the drums and saxophone/guitar duo adequately comprises a full sound.

Brooks and Prasanna strike a delicate balance in the melodic makeup of the music. On tracks like “Tug of War” and “Dubai Dance,” the saxophone and guitar meet in assaulting fashion, as the instruments are butted together, playing the same ascending and descending raga simultaneously. Prasanna is able to hit notes with a ferocity that only can be accomplished on guitar, but somehow has found the right configuration and technique to imitate a sitar. Surprisingly, with two high octave melodic echoes, Smith is able to give the tracks a full sound by accentuating the tom-toms, only using the snare to emphasize certain melodic phrases.

“Love and Hunger” proves the trio’s versatility, a track that begins in the East and slowly incorporates Western sounds to become a hybrid composition. Brooks lays down some rich alto saxophone lines over an Indian drone which takes form in Prasanna’s arpeggiated chords. But by the middle of the song it all begins to break down as Prasanna switches gears to play bass riffs on guitar and Brooks’ saxophone becomes attracted to the same modal phrase but with varied notes.

The album’s boldest track is “The Geometry of Rap,” a tune where Smith shows his Indian scat singing skills. Known as konnakol, it is the South Indian art form of performing percussion syllables vocally. Smith extends the track’s funk-induced drum beat by vocally soloing over it. Although the word “rap,” in the Western sense, gives the vocal performance all kinds of wrong connotations, it does add an unexpected dimension to the track.

The beauty of the Raga Bop Trio is that they are not exclusively North Indian or South Indian. Each musician’s passion for Indian music has played a huge role in creating a well-defined and controlled vision. By taking new approaches to an established musical structure, they have found a certain groove that is deeply rooted in classical Indian music while remaining within the Western harmonic.

As Helen Money, Chicago-based cellist Alison Chesley transforms a commonly known classical instrument into a mighty weapon for composing and arranging furious one-woman rock concertos. But unlike the explosive and menacing songs on her second album, In Tune, Chesley is unassuming in person, speaking softly in the basement chill-out room at the Empty Bottle in Chicago before performing later that evening.

The subterranean location seems fitting, considering Chesley’s ability to push the sonic boundaries of the cello and journey to the depths of the heart and mind. “I want to make the cello sound like anything but a cello,” she says. “I’m looking for that one feeling, and then I dig in and see what I can discover. I love that dark sound and going to a serious place where I can work with darker emotions. I have to feel what I’m playing.”

Born and raised in Los Angeles, Chesley became a cellist serendipitously. “In grade school, I had to pick an instrument for a part of a public-school music program,” she says. “I can’t remember exactly why, but I ended up picking the cello.

"Then I remember my dad buying me Antonin Dvorak’s Cello Concerto in B Minor. That’s probably one of the best cello pieces ever written, and I still don’t know how he knew to pick that out. I listened to that Dvorak recording over and over. Eventually, I came to love the midrange sound of the cello, and it’s unique from all instruments because it’s most similar to human voice. It hits you right in the chest.”

As she grew up, Chesley continued to mix in varied musical influences like the music of pop star Shaun Cassidy. But it was the epic rock of The Who and SST punk bands such as The Minutemen (which she covers on In Tune with “A Political Song for Michael Jackson to Sing”) that formed the nucleus for the style of aggressive rock-based and minimalist cello that she wanted to play.

In 1994, Chesley came to Chicago to study for her master’s in cello performance at Northwestern University. She met fellow musician Jason Narducy, with whom she eventually formed alternative-rock band Verbow. After recording two albums with Verbow, Chesley left the band in 2001 to embark on a solo career.

In addition to Helen Money, Chesley works as a composer, arranger, and instructor for Chicago’s Old Town School of Folk Music. “I love teaching at the Old Town School of Folk Music,” she says. “I had a student with multiple sclerosis who wanted to learn to play cello, and it was inspiring to see that type of determination from a student, because it makes me appreciate my gift and think back to when I was a kid and I used to hide in the backyard when I didn’t want to practice my cello.”

Chesley also composes for theater and film productions and has leant her talents to bands including Disturbed, Anthrax, Mono, and Russian Circles. Chesley says that creating music for other projects is “more about the dance,” where she focuses on complementing, enhancing, or responding to visual elements like actors or sets in theater or film.

The challenges change when it comes to her own music, where it’s up to her to decide where she takes the mood of a piece. “As Helen Money, I try to present an idea, tell a complete story, and have structure,” she says. “When I left Verbow, I wasn’t really interested in playing pretty cello. I didn’t want to be just a string player in a band. I had gotten to the point where I didn’t want to play with anyone because I was really curious to see if I could write and perform on my own. I also wanted to challenge myself to see if I could create a whole cohesive piece.”

The first Helen Money record, a self-titled album that she released in 2007, was about discovery. “I was thinking more along the lines of Bob Mould’s Workbook,” Chesley says. “So over time I added effects pedals and took the aggressive cello I was playing with Verbow to a different level.”

As for her sophomore album, Chesley says that she pushed herself to develop an idea. “I recorded my first album live, but when I started recording In Tune,I had just started working with Pro Tools,” she says. “I wanted to see if I could get away from relying on my loop stations’ pedals and worry about how to pull it off live later.”

For In Tune, Chesley took a different approach to recording. Working with engineer Greg Norman (Pelican, Russian Circles, Neurosis), she was presented with new challenges in the studio. “Once of the things I was cautious of when recording on tape was to figure out how to play things from beginning to end,” she says.

“Learning that was difficult. When I screwed something up, I wasn’t sure if I could do that again. But Greg helped by telling me to just get one good take, not four or five. Working like that in the studio was hard, but it allowed me to learn to be okay with mistakes, and I’m glad I did it that way.”

That edge and struggle can be felt on the album. Her placements of percussive plucks and violent pushes and pulls of the bow back and forth across the strings immerse the listener in songs that are rigid and gritty, sleek and graceful. It’s a jagged juxtaposition of metal textures and rock rhythms that’s terrifying as much as it is tender and vulnerable.

For example, as inspiration for her song “Untilted,” Chesley explains, “I was listening to John Coltrane’s ‘Alabama.’ I knew that song was about the girls who died in a bombing during the civil-rights struggle in the ’60s. I love that song because it’s so naked. Coltrane evoked a strong feeling. I wanted to do the same thing in the middle section of ‘Untitled.’ On all my songs, I’m searching for a feeling or a sound more than melody because I’m not very good at writing melody."

“And that feeling is usually dark,” Chesley adds, “because I’m not scared to explore the darker emotions. I don’t mind being in a dark places. I don’t know why that is. For some reason, I don’t like music that you have to think about to appreciate. I’m hesitant to listen to albums like that. I like the rawness and immediacy of music that hits you quickly.”

Chesley wrestled with artistic uncertainty during the recording of In Tune and as she prepared to tour. “There’s so much music out there now that it’s easy to ask yourself ask yourself, ‘Why am I doing this? Why would anyone listen to my music?’” she says. “There are so many good musicians today that you really have to believe in yourself and be confident even when you have doubt.

"For me, I realized that if I’m not playing my cello or writing, then I’m not really happy and I get depressed. Being aware of this makes me realize that I should be making music even when I’m struggling with the fear that nobody will want to hear my music. Sometimes I play cello just for my own emotional health or to sort things out.”

Listening to Chesley work out her struggles and express herself on record is only part of the equation. Experiencing Helen Money live adds completeness to her albums. But after two years of performing on her own, Chesley feels that she is coming to the limits of what she can do on stage solo.

“I feel self-contained when I’m on stage,” she says. “I don’t move around a lot. It feels sparse. I like that I’m intimately connecting with the audience, but I’m hoping to make it a bit more epic. I’d like to play and share the stage with other musicians too. It’s a lot to deal with everything yourself, like driving to the venue, dealing with other bands when someone tries to move me up on the bill, and when things like my effects pedals don’t work right. At times like those, I really need to rely on another band member.”

Even so, Chesley’s solo performance that evening at the Empty Bottle erupted with power and strength, filling the venue with an undeniable force. Chesley’s performance was raw, naked, and revealing, and it provides inspiration by showing how a cello can rock, roar, and growl gorgeously when in the hands of Helen Money.

Website
Myspace
Facebook

Perhaps the poster group for its genre, Sunn has spent the past 10 years experimenting in epic, doomy sound and noise.

Now, with Monoliths & Dimensions, the core duo of Stephen O'Malley and Greg Anderson teams with guests galore to create, in the words of the group, "the most musical piece we've done."  Guest musicians Eyvind Kang (John Zorn, Bill Frisell), Jessika Kenney (Eyvind Kang, Asva), Oren Ambarchi (Burial Chamber Trio), Dylan Carlson (Earth), Julian Priester (Sun Ra, John Coltrane) and others help make that so, while retaining the creeping, end-of-the-world vibe that persists thoughout Sunn's work.

Khanate: Clean Hands Go Foul (Hydra Head)

As the belated swan song for the super-group collaboration between Stephen O'Malley (Sunn O)))), James Plotkin (Phantomsmasher), Alan Dubin (OLD), and Tim Wyskida (Blind Idiot God), Clean Hands Go Foul is a fitting endgame for Khanate's aural presentation of desolation and despair.  Evil ambience crests and falls, working with ominous chords and soul-shredding screams; naturally, fans of O'Malley's other work will love this.

Khanate: "Wings from Spine" (excerpt)
Khanate: \"Wings from Spine\" (excerpt)

Grizzly Bear: Veckatimest (Warp)

Unconventional indie darlings Grizzly Bear have pushed three years since their last full-length release, and the passage of time hasn't diminished the band's creative stroke.

On Veckatimest, Grizzly Bear's trademark vocal harmonies and layered orchestrations are still present, but the album features a slightly heavier touch of electronics and chamber elements.  By and large, however, this is the same Grizzly Bear, and preexisting fans won't feel alienated by this disc.

Sir Richard Bishop: The Freak of Araby (Drag City)

In his solo creations and many collaborative endeavors, ex-Sun City Girls guitarist Richard Bishop weaves through Arabic, Indian, flamenco, African, and Gypsy influences in both composed and improvised settings.

With his new album, he employs a clean, reverberated electric guitar in place of his usual acoustic sound, and he adds a bit of percussive assistance. For spring and summer tour dates, Bishop will perform with a full ensemble, which should make his ethnic creations even more compelling.

Master Musicians of Bukkake: Totem One (Conspiracy)

Milky and Don McGreevy of Earth, producer extraordinaire Randall Dunn (Secret Chiefs 3, Sunn O)))), Bill Horist of Ghidra, and other noted Northwest musicians comprise this collective that designs psychedelic, ethnically inspired folk freak-outs.

With Totem One, the group begins a musical trilogy while expanding and maturing its expansive sound.  The album's guests include Alan Bishop of Sun City Girls and Timb Harris of Estradasphere and Secret Chiefs 3.

Vieux Farka Touré: Fondo (Six Degrees)

The son of musical Malian icon Ali Farka Touré, guitarist/singer Vieux Farka Touré has garnered international distinction since the release of his self-titled debut album, issued the year after his famous father’s death.

That disc, which was remixed later in the same year, featured kora virtuoso Toumani Diabate on a pair of tracks and combined Mande and Sonrai folk styles with pop and a touch of reggae.  Diabate is back to help with Fondo, which finds Vieux taking more of a distinctive direction while improving his songwriting chops.

A Sacramento resident and founding member of spazz rockers Hella, Hill is among the most accomplished and prolific drummers in the avant-rock community.  Yet before August, he had not achieved two of his oldest goals: transitioning into a bandleader and releasing a solo album.

With the release of Astrological Straits on Ipecac, Hill begins this new journey. Borne from a vision that dates back to when he picked up sticks, this solo life finds Hill changing how others view the role of drummers — as capable of being more than a melody-free cog in the musical wheel.  With Astrological Straits, Hill pushes the boundaries that other drummers-turned-leaders have set before him, and he does so in the form of a demented tech-pop oeuvre.

“Drummers don’t normally put out solo records unless it’s just drums, improvisation, or avant things,” he says.  “But in the sense of being a bandleader in the spirit of Frank Zappa or any of the great jazz bandleaders, it’s really not that common.  Very early on, a goal of mine was trying to achieve something like that.”

And though Astrological Straits is rife with high-profile guests — Les Claypool, Chino Moreno, and Marco Benevento are among them — Hill is the overriding force behind its direction, responsible for vocals, keyboards, guitars, basses, horns, and drums.

The hour-long opus, with a 33-minute freeform bonus disc, is an epic space-math conception. It draws from visionary artists like Devo and Captain Beefheart, laying warped, warbling, alien vocals over the majority of tracks, and employs squeaky effects evocative of electronic artists like Dan Deacon.

Its springing synth sounds, tweaked guitars, fuzzy bass, and convulsive drums lay a strange foundation for bits of classic instrumentation; notably, the saxophone and piano on “Tick On,” the penultimate track, result in one of the album’s most interesting stylistic convergences.

Yet despite Hill’s lengthy instrumental credits, listeners may be surprised to find that his influences are spawned primarily from non-drummers.

“There are so many amazing drummers that I’ve learned from, but I relate to the emotion of certain guitarists or composers,” Hill says.  “The emotion that they can convey through their instruments, I envy so much.  That stuff strikes such a deeper chord with me, but I’m a drummer.  There’s a certain lyrical quality to a more melodic instrument.”

That inspiration led Hill to experiment with harmonics on his drums, creating “inaudible” melodies around which he wrote other melodic parts.  And for as experimental as Astrological Straits is, it stands in stark contrast to Church Gone Wild, his solo effort as part of Hella’s 2005 double-disc release.  For Church Gone Wild, Hill penned a 59-minute, single-track noise jam; for Astrological Straits, which he jokingly refers to as “Church Got Dialed,” Hill scaled back the frantic freeform moments.

“In the past, if there was some crazy shit or some real alien thing going on, I would have been looser about it and more careless,” he says.  “On this album, I was very hands-on and particular about what I wanted to hear.  There are a lot of the same ideas, and in some ways I have a sound of my own, but I feel that I’ve refined [the sound] and what I’ve wanted it to be.  [Astrological Straits] is really intense, but dynamically, it’s a lot broader and a lot smarter of a record.  It’s a lot more advanced.”

And it’s that dichotomy that causes Hill to struggle with his musical creations.  His trademark free-spazz beats come naturally when he’s behind the kit, but when he’s pulled outside of his musical world, he often finds himself listening to more straightforward or poppy albums.  So for his proper debut album, he opted to make something to enjoy when he’s not that obsessive, zoned-in drummer — when he’s simply riding his bike or doing normal activities.

“It’s weird,” Hill says.  “Sometimes the way that I express myself isn’t parallel to the kind of music that I like to hear.  My personal taste is much different than 70% of the records that I’ve ever made.  It’s bizarre, because everything that I’ve made I love and I’m super proud of, but it doesn’t necessarily line up to my tastes.”

Thus Hill’s confliction between id and ego may ultimately define his legacy as a solo artist.  Known for his dozens of experimental projects and collaborations, and with another proper band in the works, the drumming prodigy plans to maintain his other efforts.

But he is already planning for his second solo recording, which could begin as early as the end of his summer/fall tour, set to feature the Astrological Straits material.  To be orchestrated with a live band that uses samplers, sequencers, and keyboards to fill in the blanks, that tour could captivate audiences with its unorthodox presentation.  More importantly, however, it could redefine Hill as an artist.

“Horn players and guitarists — people like Jimi Hendrix, John Coltrane, and Ornette Coleman — are so expressive,” he says.  “That goes back to that attitude when you start playing the drums: ‘No, you have to stay in this small fucking box, just chopping wood out there so that other people can do their thing.’

“There’s so much to do with [drums] that hasn’t been done yet; the roles can be reversed.  You can’t do anything outside of the box on the drum set — or go freeform in a pop-structured song — without someone going, ‘Drum solo!’  But if you’re a guitar player or a horn player expressing yourself in free time while others are holding it down, it’s some brilliant shit.  In my mind, that just equates to brainwashed propaganda.”

Drummer Jean-Paul Gaster talks with Kim Manning about the recording industry, performing in both configurations, and what's in store for each.

Many band members have side projects, but what made you guys decide to have an "alter-ego" with all the same members (with the addition of Opeth keyboardist Per Wiberg on the new album)? How does Bakerton differ from Clutch?

We originally started The Bakerton Group in the '90s. Neil actually moved to Denver for a short amount of time, and we found ourselves with downtime and wanted to try the instrumental thing.

We're all way into jazz and the blues and wanted to play that style of music, so at the time we played some Thelonious Monk and [John] Coltrane covers. More than anything, it was an experiment.

We decided that when we started Weathermaker, we wanted to make and release a Bakerton record now that we had some real distro and a real label. We've been friends with Per for a long time and toured with him a bunch in Europe.

He's a monster keyboard player and has an affinity for funk, jazz, and the blues, so it was a natural fit. It turned out he had time off after an Opeth tour to record, so it worked out perfectly.

What differences do you find in writing material for each group?

The biggest difference is being able to write songs that aren't focused around lyrics. Over the years, we've become really good at writing Clutch songs, and on the flipside, it's a great challenge to write the Bakerton tracks.

We're much more concerned about the form of the songs and trying to find what melodies are working where, and really, the instruments themselves become a lyrical focal point. At the end of the day, it's still hooks. We're trying to write those things that still stick in people's heads.

Why did you decide to create your own label, Weathermaker Music?

We realized after we were finally done with DRT (our previous label) that it was time to do something drastically different. The idea of running our own label was always something that we've been interested in, but at the time, the distributors were not into the idea of working with just bands.

Over the past few years, though, it was apparent that we as a band could sell as many records as any of the indie labels out there — that's kind of what spurred it. It's exciting to have our own label; we have a lot of projects planned that we're excited about.

Would you recommend for other bands to create their own label?

No doubt about it. The idea of a label as we know it really is nonexistent nowadays. The industry's changed so much.

There's a lot of ways for bands to get recognition today. The Internet has had a large impact on the way bands do business. Anything you can do yourself is the way to go; you can't wait around for people to get interested in your band anymore.

These labels were trying to sell millions of records, and that doesn't happen today, whereas years ago that happened way more frequently. Major labels are definitely a dying breed, and anyone who can start their own label should definitely do it.

Two bands, a record label…what's next?

I'm pretty sure that we have our work cut out for ourselves at the moment. These days we're either on the road or writing more songs for both bands. It's really gone like that steadily for the past year. We've had no time off in over a year.

I don't think that we'll put out any bands on our label not related to Clutch — that was never the plan — but we'll have the new Clutch full-length this summer, which we start recording after this tour, and maybe some other surprises coming soon as well.

- Kim Manning

Jazz bassist Melvin Gibbs is an extremely diverse musician, and this musical diversification is exemplified by his new project, Melvin Gibbs' Elevated Entity.

Hailed by some as the "best bassist in the world," Gibbs expands his palette further on his forthcoming record, Ancients Speak, including tastes of Brazilian hip hop and African Yoruba culture.

In a conversation with contributor Joe Kurowski, Gibbs discusses Brooklyn's influence on his music, the effects of a trip to Brazil, and his time as the world-music buyer at Tower Records.

You grew up in Brooklyn. Tell me how you started making music.

Essentially, I started to make music with this guy who lived next door to me. I always wanted to play bass or percussion, or be a DJ, but he told me that there was no money in DJing and that I needed to learn to play an instrument.

There was this place I played at called The Muse, which was kind of like a cultural center where I met Reggie Workman, who played with Coltrane. I met Vernon Reid (Living Colour) in one of the practice rooms at Medgar Evers College through a mutual friend, and that's how I ended up joining Vernon's free-jazz band. Then I ended up in a band playing with Alphonia Tims. We'd rehearse over at Ornette Coleman's loft and he would sit around and critique us.

Then there was The Mama Theater, which was on the Lower East Side on 3^rd Street. There were always musicians in there that you could just go and jam with. I met Joe Bowie there, and it was through him that I met James Chance. I had a little "try-out" with him, and that's where The Contortions came from. And later that turned into Defunkt.

What was the Defunkt scene like?

There is a whole part of history in the '80s that they left out. There were a whole lot of scenes, but ours is usually skipped over.

Actually, the person who introduced me to Vernon Reid was my roommate and one of the very first graffiti artists in New York. He went by the tag name WG. One of my other friends was the head of these ex-vandals, not really a gang, but this organization with all the graffiti artists in Brooklyn.

For a while in the late '70s, there was a loft jazz scene. A bunch of people would get together at someone's loft and we'd have little shows. Any jazz musicians that would come through town would always come and play with us. Warren Smith had some places where we would go and jam. James Chance used to go to these jazz lofts.

What was one album growing up that influenced you to start writing music?

In Brooklyn at that time, I obviously came up listening to funk. I was big into the DJ culture, into the remix guys and all that. I was a big avant-garde head, listening to Ornette Coleman, Pharoah Sanders, and what ended up becoming acid jazz, like The Blackbirds.

There was this one record store that I used to walk by everyday, and one day I was walking past and heard a record and just flipped out. I was like ‘Who is that?!' It turned out to be a Fela Kuti record.

This guy imported all of the African records, and I spent a lot of time in that store. I probably bought out the guy's whole catalogue. (Laughs) It's hard to pick one, because they're all good. But I'd have to say The Gentleman is probably my favorite Fela Kuti album.

The album, Bill Dixon with Exploding Star Orchestra (Thrill Jockey), begins with “Entrances,” a Dixon piece. There are two distinct versions of “Entrances” on the record, which Dixon arranged through spontaneous conduction. Mazurek’s creation, “Constellations for Innerlight Projections (for Bill Dixon),” separates the two pieces. It was originally written as a video score, given to seven of the Orchestra’s members on laptops. The other artists responded at will to the conduction and direction, creating a fantastic, unique piece.

The opening monologue in “Constellations” is Mazurek’s manifesto of sorts, beginning, “When you push from the center, you create your own universe.” Damon Locks of The Eternals lends his voice for the narrative, continuing, “You play the notes. The notes are a reference. This is your constellation. You can make it anything you want.” All three of the pieces are filled with chaos and wonder, or as Mazurek describes it, “spontaneous, precise composition.”

The pieces were originally played for the Chicago Jazz festival and recorded almost completely acoustic, without any post-production. Describing the new record, Mazurek says, “It was the first attempt at a video score rather than composed music, although there is some composed music. It was quite a battle to play the ideas that were fairly abstract in my head. Bill’s music was unique to the group, as it is the first time we were directed by an outside source. And what better outside source is there than the great Bill Dixon?”

When free jazz hit New York City in the 1960s, there was great debate about it. Could it be considered music? Was it all randomness and spontaneity, or a real advance in the culture of music? It was radically different and unique. Dixon is a seminal figure of that movement. The trumpeter, pianist, and flugelhorn player has spent a lifetime exploring new and uncharted territories of music and sound.

Dixon organized the October Revolution in Jazz in 1964, and soon after co-founded the Jazz Composers Guild. After retiring from teaching at Bennington College in Vermont, he continued working and advancing the movement. His profession as a teacher and his unwillingness to compromise his artistic value led to relative obscurity among contemporaries like Ornette Coleman and John Coltrane. Dixon’s musical output may be small comparatively, but he is so respected and influential that many look to him as a pioneer and leader in free jazz.

Mazurek grew up around Chicago, rooted in the hard bop jazz of the town. The cornetist began conducting and organizing projects in the 1990s, developing into a cherished improviser. His most recent project began as an invitation by the Chicago Cultural Center and the Jazz Institute, who approached Mazurek about putting together an avant-garde jazz ensemble for a Chicago concert. The celestial entity that formed was Exploding Star Orchestra, a group of over a dozen musicians that first released We Are All from Somewhere Else (Thrill Jockey) in 2007.

That same year, Mazurek met Dixon at the Guelph International Jazz festival and soon discussed collaborating. “He attended my Sao Paulo Underground concert and was excited about the sound we were making,” says Mazurek. This led to discussions of collaboration. “I secured a spot at the Chicago Jazz festival, which made it financially possible to go ahead with the idea. Bill composed a piece and I composed a piece for this. It was quite magical.”

Mazurek is like a boy meeting his hero. He talks of Dixon with revere and awe. For him, Dixon is a living legend, above mere mortals. His trumpet is a thing of beauty, full of voice and character. Dixon is one the most lyrical musicians in the free jazz movement. His sound comes deep from within, reaching out like fingers in the dark, exploring areas that few have dared.

Mazurek calls Dixon “a true artist, who never sacrificed integrity for a lower form of artistry. I know of his music and writings and art. I will say that every time I hear even one note from Bill, it is a lesson in sound and life.”

As for Mazurek, his music is alive. It grows and exists purely on its own terms. It fills him and drives him further every day. Mazurek defies categorization simply by ignoring it. His music is essential to his way of life, and that comes through especially strong on “Constellations.” “[I find] my own abstract melodic ideas,” he says. “[They are] my own way of building chord and sound structures that don’t necessarily correspond with the so-called correct way of doing things.”

The true value of the music, for Mazurek, is the truth and candor that music creates. Mazurek seeks structures and ideas that let performers interpret sounds in their own unique way, with as much freedom as possible within the given framework. “I like to create pieces that project life, and perhaps push the boundaries a bit to find something else,” says Mazurek. “Risk plays a large part, but perhaps a rehearsed and exacting risk is more the point.”

Mazurek’s next risk? “I want to form the Exploding Star International, and have musicians from all over the world participate.