Gordon Grdina (VII)

This interview with Gordon Grdina was conducted via email during June 2019

Tony Reif: For this second record by your New York group you’ve created fewer but generally much longer pieces. The longest piece on Inroads was under 12 minutes, but on Cooper’s Park there are 3 pieces over 15 minutes. What were you going for in crafting several suite-like pieces with multiple composed sections and various improvisational episodes involving different combinations of instruments, textures, dynamics/energies, time feels/free time, and ubiquitous references to other styles or genres of music than “jazz” (e.g. rock and Arabic music, also quasi-classical counterpoint)? Are you consciously aiming for something a bit different than what you’re hearing from today’s influential NY avant-jazz groups, or does this music somehow fit inside that category, as loose/diverse as it is?

Gordon Grdina: I didn’t set out to make these pieces longer from the start. I start with an initial musical idea and then see what I hear coming next, developing from there, waiting until it seems finished. With this group I’m not trying to make it short though and am looking to write more so that there is more material for the group to dig into. “Cooper’s Park” is actually two pieces put together, because once we started playing them with the group they segued into each other and now it is conceived as a single piece. I’m not interested in defining what everything will be beforehand, I’m much more interested in seeing what develops out of the original ideas when turned over to the band. I feel like the ‘right’ decision for where and what something will become sort of presents itself naturally in how the written music is responded too and what that conjures up for the group as a whole. Sometimes I really know before we get together that a piece is fully formed with beginning middle and end etc. but I’m often more excited about the pieces that take a little time and group exploration to develop. In the last couple years, to offset the longer thematic pieces, I’ve started writing a series of pieces that are shorter complete ideas or conclusions that can work for any group. I call these the Seeds series and they are numbered. They are not instrument- or ensemble-specific, they have developed into almost sectional pieces that can now be put together in different orders or segued into from other pieces. That started happening on this record with “Benbow” and “Wayward.” “Seeds II” came from composing the development out of one of these Seed pieces, so things start to overlap and take on their own shape and form dependant on what makes sense for the musicians. I’m a firm believer in keeping things fluid and open.

TR: You’ve been working with very prominent New York musicians, on and off, ever since Think Like the Waves, your 2006 trio recording with Gary Peacock and Paul Motian. But the music has evolved a lot since then. And you have never lived in New York, you’ve maintained your Vancouver identity while touring as much as possible the groups you’ve put together and recorded consisting largely of musicians from the US, such as the oud-based Gordon Grdina’s The Marrow (also on Songlines). How do you see this evolution, not just in stylistic terms but also perhaps in continuing to challenge yourself and your collaborators, in the listenership you’re going for, emotional vs intellectual aspects of the music, whatever?

GG: I’m trying to keep moving and listening to what is exciting and inspiring for me. Sometimes I think you can love something specific too much and it stifles your ability to develop and discover more about yourself. I’m trying to continually challenge myself in a way that doesn’t feel too exhausting, if that makes any sense. I could be extremely challenged trying to master one specific style or concept, but I find it much more enjoyable to let the restless joy of new sounds lead my development. It’s part of seeking out new challenges, keeping myself interested and striving to dig deeper and create more.

There are very specific through lines from the Think Like the Waves album that are present in this ensemble and also everything else I’ve done since that time, things adding up and connecting and creating more places to reference or go to. I don’t really compartmentalize well, and everything developed for one aspect of my life seeps into the others almost through osmosis, creating something more holistic and fluid. This development process seems quite logical to me and almost preplanned, but only when looking back. There are freely-developing forms that become themselves much the way a group improv does. And this extends out to collaborators. Where the most planned aspect of my development and direction has been is definitely in picking the musicians. Once that’s done everything else takes care of itself. They determine the music. This is even true of The Marrow, which has Mark Helias and Hank Roberts playing in a way that I feel they don’t in any other group. I had felt that having them interpreting music specific to the oud and with a basis in maqam and dastgah but without the constraints of tradition was going to work, and I feel like it did. Just thinking about those guys, the music started to come easily. It’s similar with this quartet. I think of them and all these ideas start coming. So it’s maybe the choice of collaborators that has sparked the most development for me.

TR: Yeah, it’s a bit like casting a play or a movie. How has your guitar sound evolved over that same period?

GG: I’ve always been drawn to the acoustic sound of the instrument. This is always present: even during the heaviest, loudest pieces I’ve still got the guitar mic’d acoustically. The blending of the two sounds is always my goal. Basically, I’m trying to recreate what I hear being so close to the instrument and simultaneously hearing it through the amp. I’ve also brightened the sound and learned that I love guitaristic sounds. I got tired of dark, mellow, reverbed-out jazz guitar and on the flip side too much processing. I like brighter strings and don’t mind hearing the squeaks. They give you more of the reality and physicality of the instrument. I’ve also allowed myself to play heavy, I play heavy strings and hit hard. There was a time when I was trying to negate that but it’s not real. I love subtlety and delicate beauty and drawing out tone as well, but I would be a liar if I didn’t accept that I’m meant to play physically, it’s cathartic and a part of who I am and a lot of the music I love.

TR: Could you talk about how you worked with these musicians to hone the improvisational sections to the point where the music is expressing what you want it to? Do you talk through the pieces section by section, do you offer feedback about how a certain section should go or feel, or do you mostly leave it to the musicians to work their way into the music’s aesthetics through rehearsal and performance according to their own lights? Is there ever an issue of striking the right balance between the group vibe and the freedom of expression of each musician?

GG: We talk through the pieces to be clear on form etc. but I don’t really offer too much feedback at first. If something isn’t working or isn’t clear then I will offer my ideas or how I hear it, and as a group discuss various shaping ideas. I like it best when it just takes care of itself and there is a conclusion reached through very little verbal communication, letting the music sort of speak for itself – even if this is going against how I initially heard it shaped or phrased. Often others in the band will have suggestions on how they hear sections developing and then we try things out and reach an agreement. There hasn’t been much of an issue with striking a balance in this group, and this harkens back to one of the through lines from Think Like the Waves. Everyone has a deep affinity for Paul Motian as well as Gary Peacock, Paul Bley and that stream of development – not that this is exclusive to them of course, but there is the highest regard given to listening and openness. Even though now the music is more directed compositionally, louder, and includes a wider stylistic range, the underlying highest priority is listening. That gives each person the freedom to contribute their individual expressions while maintaining the group sound.

TR: I’m always struck by Satoshi Takeishi’s drumming. He can hit hard and deep-groove with the best, but he’s also a master of form and a great texturist – he brings all his sensitivity as a percussionist to the kit. Is he the magic glue that holds everything together?

GG: He really is. He is delicate and intense when the music calls for it and he always puts the music first. He is an incredible listener. He is egoless, giving himself up to the music. It’s inspiring. All these guys are deep-listening, inspiring and egoless musicians while at the same time being highly skilled. There’s an unbelievable amount of technical ability with these musicians that presents itself in the most beautiful way, giving life to very difficult music while maintaining a sense of joy and playfulness.

TR: Why the title “Cooper’s Park”?

GG: I do a lot of my writing while running and I conceived of most of this album while running in my neighbourhood with my son. We usually run to Cooper’s Park which is under a bridge. It’s almost like a safe haven, because no matter what the weather it’s always dry there and my son can play while I sing into my phone like a crazy person. It’s interesting to me how your everyday life and environment shape your art in often undetected ways. There is something of this place in the music. It gets chaotic and turbulent but there is always a calming or reflection-giving balance.