Much of what Coleman talked about was the limitations of language itself: “The Bible is not based on race, it’s based on the people that found something that had a meaning to them that in reality turned out to be the name for God, but I’m sure that the name for God is not the name of God, but it’s the name we use for God.”
When an audience member asked Coleman what his “feelings” were regarding teaching these higher philosophical values in the classroom, he responded, “You said, ‘What are your feelings?’ But it’s not my feelings or your feelings but what is ‘feeling,’ period?” After riffing on the theme for a couple more minutes, he concluded, “For me myself, there’s only one feeling, and that’s being alive.”
Backstage, Coleman was surrounded by well-wishers, and he hugged old acquaintances. When I asked him what his preferences were these days — performing or composing — he answered in favor of composing. (A live Carnegie Hall concert of Coleman playing with his quartet from last year’s JVC-New York Jazz Festival is due soon on his own imprint.) I congratulated him on his degree and he asked me, “Do you play?”
I told him that I don’t.
“Don’t say that you ‘don’t,’ ” he said, looking right at me with those deep brown eyes. “Say you ‘haven’t.’” Then he pointed to my pad and pen: “If you can do that, you can do anything.”
My Zen moment with Ornette Coleman.
As good as Robert Glasper’s Blue Note debut, Canvas, is — and it’s very good — it didn’t prepare me for this young pianist’s live show with his trio at Scullers on January 19. Bassist Alan Hampton was filling in for the CD’s Vicente Archer, but the band’s second set was uncompromising. Consider the opener, “G and B”: the tune was little more than a riff, but what a riff! Hampton rocked back and forth on the title pitches with Glasper’s left hand, as a kind of pedal-point anchor. Meanwhile, they alternated cycles of fast and slow patterns in odd meters while drummer Damion Reid propelled an ultra-fast tempo of 16th notes on his ride cymbal — a drum ’n’ bass pattern played live. Ordinarily one listens for a pianist’s mix of single-note lines — melodic inventions — over a recurring chord pattern, but with Glasper and his trio, one was content to get sucked into the vortex of that elusive groove. And that’s part of what was remarkable about the set: how do you alternate odd meters (Glasper told me after the show that “G and B” deployed 9/4 and 7/4) and maintain a groove? Stuff like this can quickly become offputting — technically impressive but emotionally distant. Can we have 4/4 and maybe a waltz now? But “G and B” was like some syncopated Latin dance from another dimension. The recurring harmonic and rhythmic pattern was odd, but over the course of the 15-minute performance it established itself clearly in the ear and hips, and you kept waiting for those resolutions to come ’round, tickling and defying your expectations.
