Butch Morris Time

Talk about deep: Twenty-year-old Doug Morris, a U.S. Army medic serving in Germany in 1967, studies up on applied harmony. Fifteen years later, Butch Morris would begin to reshape the sound of the jazz avant garde. Photo courtesy of Don Heffington

This post has been a long time coming, but I've finally found the time to tackle it. If you've followed Gems for a while, you'll recall we did a piece a while back on A.R. Penck that featured Butch Morris. Well, not long after that posting came the distressing news that Butch had passed away.

He'd been ill for a while, something I was unaware of (news travels slow here in the foothills of the Catskills). So it came as a shock to learn that he was gone. It seems like only yesterday he was working on his music box project and leading conductions with many musicians I know, some quite well. 

Butch had perhaps the purest sound on his instrument since ... well, since Bobby Hackett. An odd pairing, but not many contemporary horn players are cornetists, and Butch was a superb player, very much like Hackett had been decades earlier. Butch was also a master of effects on his instrument. Bubber Miley would have been impressed by his growls and feints and squawks. Mr. Morris was no stranger to the Ellington jungle.

With this entry, Gems offers its visitors two Butch Morris treasures. One is an excerpt from a conduction that Butch did in 1985 during an epic art performance piece based on the works of the Spanish painter Goya. The other is a wonderful collection of photographs from the days when Butch was known by his middle name, Douglas – days long before he was acknowledged on the downtown scene and around the world as a major innovator in the field of creative music. 

So consider this Gems' tribute to one of the great creators of late 20th and early 21st century jazz. Lawrence Douglas "Butch" Morris will be much missed. We shall not see another like him ...

When Butch was Doug

These photos come to us from Don Heffington, a gentleman whom I met over the Interwebs through a mutual friend. As a teenager, Don was in one of Butch's early bands in Los Angeles. He has graciously given permission for Gems to post these photos, all of which I believe have never been seen publicly before. Don also gave the eulogy at Butch's funeral and we've included that here as well. It tells the story of his long friendship with Butch and is a lovely tribute. Many thanks, Don!

The Doug Morris/Sam Johnson Band, above and below, in 1965. Sam Johnson on
bass, Clarence Peace on alto, pianist Andre, Doug Morris on trumpet and Don
Heffington, right, on drums. Los Angeles, 1965.

Doug Morris in the army in 1967 – Fort Ord, above, and in Germany, below.

The Doug Morris Quintet at the Palladium in 1966. Doug Morris, left, and Don
Heffington, right. Photos courtesy of Don Heffington

Going, Going, Goya

"Goya Time 1985 New York" was a grand-scale performance in the style of the "happenings" that were common art community activities in the early '60s. It was conceived and organized by one Dr. Sandro Dernini, a gent described as "an accomplished biologist from the island of Sardinia." "Goya Time" featured a script by Dernini, choreography by Gretta Safarty and music by Butch Morris. The whole affair took place in a Lower East Side building known as "Cuando," a cavernous place that had been a school at one time. By 1985 it had become a space for music concerts and art exhibits. It was gray and dreary on the inside, run down and in need of repair – in short, just the sort of venue perfect for presenting Goya's era of faded decadence and lethal intrigue.

I wasn't at the actual performance – it went on for many hours and there's just so much high art I can tolerate before I need to find an exit. But I was at part of the dress rehearsal. It was a much shorter affair, but just as chaotic, noisy and colorful as the main event. Declaiming actors wandered in and out of the gymnasium where Butch's musicians were creating a soundscape of melody, poly-rhythms and spiky cacophony. Dancers flitted by, appearing in the doorways one moment, on balconies the next. Interpretations of Goya's paintings hung on the walls and – if I remember correctly – an artist was on stage painting on a huge canvas and on a naked woman's body.

It was one whacky scene, and in the midst of it all was Butch and his musicians. The download included here is only a very small portion of the entire performance. But it captures the feel of the event and gives you an idea of how Butch could alter the music through his conduction technique to accommodate whatever was happening around him. One of the vocalists, by the way, is the extraordinary Shelly Hirsch. If you're unfamiliar with her work, Google her. She's amazing.

Butch Morris conducts "Los Capricios" during "Goya Time 1985 New York," a massive
performance piece that took place on June 13, 1985, on Manhattan's Lower East Side.
Photo from plexusinternational.org 

Goya Time 1985 New York
Butch Morris Ensemble
Cuando, Lower East Side, New York, NY; June 13, 1985
Butch Morris, comp, cond; JA Deane, el tbn, synth; Jason Hwang, vi; Marion Brandis, fl, alto fl, small inst; Myra Melford(?), p; Shelly Hirsch, unknown, v; others unknown.

1. Los Capricios, Part 1

Find it here: https://www.mediafire.com/?d5vuv0vuzd6d0br

Penck's Pals

Looking not a little like a modern-day Walt Whitman, German artist Ar. Penck is also a man of many interests, not the least of them creative music. If nothing else, he has excellent taste in sidemen. Wikipedia photo

I was rooting around in a now-defunct East Village record store (not far from the then-mighty Tower Records) back in the '80s on what had to be the hottest day of the year. I mostly went in to take advantage of their delightful air-conditioning, not expecting to find anything of interest amid their big U-2 and Prince displays. But then, in the 99-cent bin, I came across a half-dozen LPs with hand-decorated covers that caught my eye. Several of them featured the legendary cornetist Butch Morris. All of them included a drummer named Ar. Penck. Who?

"Wechsein-Verwechsein," a

woodcut by Ar. Penck

The music on these records was a mix of Downtown and free jazz styles – self-consciously minimalist, sly, utterly hip. I loved it. But a painter friend who was into the new music scene rolled her eyes when she saw the covers. "Ugh," she said. "Penck!"

"Who is this Penck?" I asked. "These are great."

"He's some German – an artist, or so he thinks. A doodler. Those are his scribbles on the covers." I had to admit I didn't think much of the LPs' cover designs. "And those records?" she added. "They're nothing but vanity projects. He just bought himself some sidemen and got a grant to put them out." She turned up her nose.

"But they've got Butch on them. And they sound good to me," I protested. I was feeling a little defensive, but my friend wasn't buying it. We agreed to disagree.

Butch Morris conducting, using
his "from the heart" gesture.

The records were good, I knew that. I mostly wanted them because of Butch Morris. 

Butch was the first jazz player I saw when I moved to New York City in the early '80s, and by then I knew him pretty well. His cornet playing was absolutely magnificent, unlike anyone else's then or since. And he was just starting his large-scale "conductions," whereby he would improvise a composition using prearranged combinations of instruments and sound patterns cued by a series of gestures. He used his musicians the way Ellington did, but he did it in live performance, shaping the piece even as he heard it evolve. Tres cool! 

An original concept – a new music
music box!

My musician wife occasionally played in Butch's large ensemble, and I got to know him through her. When he learned that I was an artist and modelmaker, he asked me if I'd help him with a project he had in mind. He was working on a new suite of pieces for an upcoming recording for the Sound Aspects label, and he'd had an outfit in Switzerland create a number of music box mechanisms that played the suite's signature motif, a melody called "Nowhere Ever After." Would I be interested in helping him create a production music box to hold the device? Oh, yes, I would!

 
I worked with a neighborhood furniture shop to create a simple wooden box that when picked up would play the melody. One side held the mechanism and the other provided access to the winding key and left space for Butch's "dancing notes" logo. I priced it out at a very reasonable buck-and-a-half per box, and presented a prototype version to Butch at a conduction performance at Cooper Union. He seemed delighted.

After that, I saw Butch use the box several times in performances of the new suite and I heard that he'd been showing it around. But nothing much happened with the planned production of the music boxes. So I decided to create a one-off music box to really show him what I could do.

Tiny Butch-in-a-box, a device with more
meaning than I had initially realized

I was working primarily as a sculptor of detailed miniatures in those days, so I created a three-inch-tall figure of Butch from a photo I had of him conducting. I built a red oak box to hold it and the music mechanism, and gave the little model a movable arm. When the music played, the miniature Butch conducted. It was like a hip version of the little girl jewelry box with the dancing ballerina!

At another conduction performance a few months later, I showed Butch my creation. I was excited, hoping he'd be pleased with my elaborate treatment. But it was not to be. I could tell that Butch, though he was politely complimentary, was a bit put off. That confused me. 

It was my friend, the woman who had dissed Ar. Penck, who later cleared up the mystery. Butch, she said, saw my music box with the little figure of himself inside it as a coffin. The thing struck him in that moment as an ominous sign of impending mortality – his. Not a good thing.  

I have no idea if that was how Butch really felt, but the music box production plan was never mentioned again, and not long afterwards I left New York City for the Catskills. I still have the "coffin" music box, and Butch Morris is still very much alive and kicking, so I guess he was right to abandon the project – with me, at least. He did have a music box created by someone else, and you can see it here.

Back to Penck and his musical pals. Here is one of those "vanity" records with Butch. Filling out the ensemble are free jazz veteran Frank Wright and the Wollny brothers. The music is a marvelous amalgam of creative, free and downtown styles. The record was probably the result of an afternoon in the studio, a spontaneous creation that is a testament to the skill of the musicians involved. And Butch's skittering cornet is still one of my favorite sounds in new music. 

And, in case you're wondering what the music box sounds like, click this player.


As always, these files were ripped from the original vinyl with, in this case, no cleaning of the sound.

Our Sound Unity

Ar. Penck

Lawrence "Butch" Morris, cnt; Frank Wright, ts; Frank Wollny, g; Heinz Wollny, b; Ar. Penck, d.

Dimensional Sound Studio, New York, NY; May 27, 1984; No label, number

1. We Met Frank and Butch in Town

2. Our Sound Unity

Find it here: http://www.mediafire.com/?xo3d6a6lccv94g5

Lowe and Behold

Lowe-away zone: The saxophonist, right, and drummer Rashied Ali in repose on the streets of New York in 1973. From The Illustrated Encyclopedia of Jazz

Memphis-born Frank Lowe was supposedly influenced by the music of his hometown as recorded by Stax, but I never heard it in his playing. He was a Coltrane man, as far as I could tell. Of course, he never achieved 'Trane's prodigious mastery of the form nor could he hold a candle to the elder player's distinctive sound. But Frank Lowe was a journeyman musician, a competent soloist and an excellent sideman in variety of new music settings.

I got to see him in action often during the '80s when I was living in New York and Frank was a frequent member of Butch Morris's conduction ensembles. What set Lowe apart from many other players of his generation was the fact that he, like Morris, was quite comfortable playing in groups with members from the downtown scene – John Zorn's crew. The "downtown" players were mostly all white, and the "creative music" practitioners were mostly all black. Though the two groups had much in common musically, they rarely if ever performed together. Frank and Butch were the crossover exceptions.

Frank Lowe released a number of excellent records in the course of his short career, and this is one of the rarer ones. It features a stellar band assembled from the two groups mentioned above, and offers a chance to compare and contrast styles. John Zorn is present on alto (this was before his duck call period) and Polly Bradfield joins the late Billy Bang on fiddle. And how 'bout that rhythm section? Eugene Chadbourne, John Lindberg and Philip Wilson – yowzah!

The tunes are loosely arranged, free-blowing free jazz vehicles with lots of soloing by the leader and the extraordinary Butch Morris. Zorn gets some space too, and he gives Frank a run for his money. Frank's liner notes explain the pieces in detail.

When I used to see Frank Lowe, it was apparent that he frequently wasn't at his best. Word went around that he was afflicted by the jazzman's habit, though that was never confirmed. When I read in 2003 that he'd passed away from lung cancer, I realized that when I used to see him he may have been suffering from a sickness of a different sort. Small consolation in that, I guess.

Here, however, is Frank Lowe at the top of his game. As always, these files were ripped from the actual vinyl with – in this case – no cleaning of the sound whatsoever.

Lowe & Behold

The Frank Lowe Orchestra

Musicworks 3002

Frank Lowe, ts, arr; Joseph Bowie, tbn; John Zorn, as; Peter Kuhn, cl, b cl; Butch Morris, cnt; Arthur Williams, tp; Billy Bang, Polly Bradfield, vi; Eugene Chadbourne, g; John Lindberg, b; Philip Wilson, d, perc.
New York, NY; October 1977

1. Heart in Hand (or How Vain Am I) 
2. A Hipster’s Dream 
3. Lowe-commotion
4. Heavy Drama

Find it here: http://www.mediafire.com/?5k71msesbb32k70