Selling Vijay Iyer

Iyer is feeling the blogospheric heat after receiving a MacArthur "Genius" award, and while no one could possibly claim to be surprised by his selection (frankly, that should include himself), I have to confess that it indeed disappoints me in that Regina Carter sort of way. Kurt Rosenwinkel's scathing evaluation of Iyer's playing ("No touch, no tone, no melody, nothing exceptional in any way") is a bit too harsh; I would simply say that for Iyer, the piano is a noise-maker, a keyboard that he plays like a drum set. It's an eminently valid approach to music-making, but a strange choice of instrument for the purpose, and as a result, his music has always struck me as tone-deaf in a not-so-constructive way. I've been over this with friends and in the end we have had to agree to disagree. Some people sincerely dig it in direct proportion to the hype; for better or worse, I am not one of them.

As for whether Iyer is a "genius," I'm open to both earnest and cynical interpretations to that effect, both entirely unrelated to his piano playing. Even so, Rosenwinkel's larger point that Iyer's success "reflects a snowball effect of the power of the critics and the industry to select their darling and push that person to the Nth degree" deserves to be taken seriously. In this case, though, Kurt could actually have gone further: Iyer is nothing less than this industry's perfect storm, neither white nor black, and a loudly self-proclaimed autodidact who nonetheless holds a PhD from a world-renowned university. Under those circumstances, someone would actually have to have it out for him just to stop all the accolades from pouring in; indeed, he himself had to walk back the Huffington Post after a headline lauding him as "America's Greatest Living Jazz Pianist" appeared in the wake of his MacArthur. Not that anyone's feeling sorry for him right now, but his fitness for visibility is clearly a burden on as well as a vehicle for his music. Most of us are still working towards our breakthrough, and one hopes none of this gets in his way.

Catch my references and read the whole story here and here.

For a work of proto-genius, check out the track "Habeas Corpus" on the record "Blood Sutra."

Strength in Numbers

The idea of "strong" and "weak" progressions is more discussed in classical than jazz theory, and jazz people might superficially find it odd that "common tones" between two harmonies could be a source of weakness. The sticking point, I suppose, is that classical theory deals mostly with triads and seventh chords whereas jazz theory is built around 7-note "chordscales," and a common tone is a bigger deal when there are fewer total tones in the construction. On the other hand, the A section of Autumn Leaves, for example, is comprised mostly of progressions where only one note in the chordscale changes (i.e. where there are 6 of 7 common tones), even though the root movement is "strong."

In any case, I wrote a tune a few months ago with a turnaround of sorts that moves in reverse around the circle of fifths: D-A-E-B, all lydian chords (i.e. major7 sharp11). I wasn't sure I liked it but wanted to try it to be sure, and I think it works better than I might first have thought. Then, more recently, I listened to this Kurt Rosenwinkel tune:



Seems to my unaided ear that this is an A section built out of a few different glosses on a relatively "weak" progression that might be roughly rendered as "I-V." It works beautifully, especially the turnaround, which reminds me of mine just a little bit. So, cheers to the theory people; you know what to do with yourselves, enjoy the ride to oblivion, don't let the door hit you, etc.