Timothy Young with very special people

(Endless, 1997)

Guitarist Timothy Young has performed in Seattle rock bands The Scabs, Scallywags and Devilhead. He also plays with great local musicians like Robin Holcomb, Eyvind Kang, Bill Frisell, Julian Priester and Michael White. He collaborates closely with Wayne Horvitz's bands called « Sweeter Than The Day » and « Zony Mash ». And he spent five years touring with Cambodian master musician Dr. Sam Ang Sam performing traditional Pin Peat repertoire.
Here, it's his first solo album and he leads a huge cast in creating a fascinating and kaleidoscopic album somewhere between « Sgt. Pepper’s » and Mister Bungle !

HERE

Mylab

(Terminus)

Tucker Martine and Wayne Horvitz have worked together a lot over the last decade or so, with Martine generally acting as engineer (his role in the 4 + 1 Ensemble was "limited" to live processing), but Mylab is their first fully collaborative effort together. The songs started with Martine taking various ancient public-domain folk recordings (from around the turn of the last century), which he then sampled and looped in order to form the basis for new compositions, fleshed out by Horvitz and Martine together. A long list of Seattle's musical luminaries was then brought in for overdubs, sometimes adding new parts and sometimes replacing the part created by the old samples. The result is a thoroughly modern-sounding recording built from the familiar rhythms and melodies of the folk music tradition that country, blues, and rock & roll were built from. It's a fascinating juxtaposition made more interesting by the fact that many of the instruments and the samples themselves were treated further, so sometimes it's difficult to discern whether the source is the old recordings or the recent playing. And given the modus operandi, the amount of stylistic ground covered is impressive. "Varmint" is built on a mournful fiddle figure, with Danny Barnes' dobro adding a further bluegrass flavor, which is tempered by one of several excellent Bill Frisell solos. The next track, "Fancy Party Cakes," is loaded with crazy electronic squelches, programmed (or highly treated) drums, and backward effects. "Phil and Jerry" (an ode to the Grateful Dead?) starts out sounding very African, thanks to the ngoni playing of Kassemadi Kamissogo, then moves into Pharoah Sanders territory with Skerik on sax. The title "Old Days" might be an allusion to Horvitz's old band the President, as the tune strongly recalls that band (with Andy Roth doing his finest Bobby Previte imitation on drums, while Previte appears on several other tunes). Despite the fact that there are a lot of different styles on display here, Horvitz's tonal palette on keys and individual compositional voice really ties all the songs together. Mylab is a unique-sounding project that has succeeded in making an album that is interesting and challenging while being utterly approachable. This is sonic alchemy of the highest order. Well done.

Sean Westergaard (Allmusic)

HERE

Briggan Krauss : "300"

(Knitting Factory, 1998)

Immerse head in big bucket of New York downtown saxophone skronk. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. That's kind of what listening to Briggan Krauss' 300 is like. Krauss is a bit of a madman on the alto saxophone, even by the standards of the downtown scene, which — after all — is not populated by a bunch of shrinking violets. Leading this two-session recording with keyboardist Wayne Horvitz and drummer Kenny Wollesen, Krauss is positively unhinged a good deal of the time; most of his work with groups like Babkas, Pigpen, Sex Mob, and even the Andrea Parkins Trio (which also features Wollesen) is comparably restrained. He cuts loose with scalar runs that permute into screams, wails, and gravel-voiced roars — as well as mews, sputters, flutters, and burrs that seem to mimic a variety of fantasy forest creatures (or bizarro aquatic denizens, as in "Sea Monster"). On the DX-7, Horvitz unleashes his own assault of funkified synth distortion, while the always inventive Wollesen contributes everything from wild thrashings to subtle colorations to spot-on delivery of the rhythmic pulse. 300 moves through sometimes wrenching mood shifts from one piece to the next: Horvitz's "Bingo," an understated piano and saxophone duet with a lovely melody, is followed by the sheer hysteria of "Some Woman's Strange Laugh," with its flurry of low-register sax notes followed by a high-pitched downward glissing squeal, over and over again (that's some laugh all right). Most of the tunes are improvised by the band, and a third are composed by either Krauss or Horvitz. Scored or not, many of the pieces are like sonic snapshots rather than extended-form cinematic excursions; Krauss and his bandmates don't usually roam far afield from the beginning to the end of a tune, choosing instead to discover and fool around a while with particular (sometimes lunatic) ideas that will either tickle or drill into your ears, and then abandon them before they've worn out their welcome. Krauss does actually display a sensible streak, at least knowing how long to push his repetitions before they get too bonkers, unless of course getting bonkers is the point. Then after working up a thick lather, Krauss will rinse it all away with a touch of simplicity and beauty — before dumping the crazy stuff all over your head again. And when you step out of his shower of saxophone squeals, your ears will be squeaky clean.

Dave Lynch (All Music)

HERE

David Moss Dense band : "Live in Europe"

(Ear-Rational, 1988)

In 1985, David Moss released ''Dense Band,'' an album that distilled downtown noise improvisation into song-length chunks and added a funk beat now and then. It was a showcase for Mr. Moss's precise, clattery drumming and his peculiar specialty: improvised vocal gibberish that can evoke anything from a newscast in Lithuanian to a soprano wrestling a hyena.
Two years later, he is touring with a group called Dense Band; the group made its American debut Wednesday at the Whitney Annex.
The current Dense Band includes Wayne Horvitz on keyboard, Jean Chaine on electric bass, Christian Marclay on turntables and John King on guitar. It was a showcase for both Mr. Moss and Mr. Chaine, who made an impressive New York debut with ultra-fast funk patterns, whizzing melodies and strummed and plucked chords that took the innovations of the late Jaco Pastorius a step further.
Nearly a dozen concise, varied pieces used stop-start patterns, rock and funk riffs, bursts of loud noise and relative quiet, and Mr. Moss's own sense of timing and timbre -part funk, part slapstick. He uses a drum kit that features bent-up, clanking cymbals as well as conventional ones, so a steady beat can sound like it suddenly collided with a garbage truck.
Mr. Horvitz's bell-like keyboard sounds, Mr. King's guitar twangs and Mr. Marclay's selections from records - mostly swelling orchestral chords and operatic voices, rendered silly by their context - also contributed to the poised, cheerful cacophony. The only problem was the Whitney Annex's acoustics; the echoing concrete-and-glass room muddied the music.

Jon Pareles (New York Times, 1987)

HERE

Wayne Horvitz-Butch Morris-Bobby Previte : "Nine below zero"

(Sound Aspects, 1987)

Nine Below Zero is a relatively early recorded example of all three of the players involved and, interestingly, one of their freest and most rewarding. Horvitz and Previte, in particular, would go on to much more thematic music, drawing heavily from rock, jazz, and fusion, though hints of those borrowings certainly show up here. These pieces are somewhat closer, in miniature form, to the "conductions" which Butch Morris would champion in oncoming years, striking a delicate balance between composition and free improvisation. The general mood is subdued and introspective, Horvitz' signature keyboard sound playing very nicely off Morris' lovely, melancholy cornet. The pieces, with the exception of two typically gorgeous numbers by Robin Holcomb, are all by Horvitz and, when the melody eventually surfaces, have his sense of off-kilter, slightly poppy feel to them, as though rescuing the lone delicious kernels from an otherwise forgettable Top 40 ditty. A couple of tracks feature the unfortunate sound of mid-'80s drum machines, prevalent at the time among with a number of musicians experimenting with new technology, but sounding shallow and trite 15 years hence. Still, as Horvitz and Previte especially have garnered larger followings in the ensuing years, Nine Below Zero is a very worthwhile picture of one aspect of the roots and a fine recording in general.

Brian Olewnick (All Music)

HERE

Michael Shrieve : "Fascination" + "Flying Polly"

(Cmp, 1994)

Progressing with guitarist Carlos Santana from his early Afro-Cuban rock and pop-based successes to his experimentation with jazz fusion, drummer Michael Shrieve subsequently released a string of fine solo recordings of his own. These two features guitar hero Bill Frisell and the ever-inventive organist Wayne Horvitz for a rather divergent set featuring ethereal soundscapes, loose grooves, and crunching opuses. Here, Shrieve provides sturdy backbeats to coincide with some nicely placed fills and his acute implementations of the dynamic. This effort highlights Frisell's wily and rather slithery guitar work, enhanced by the glowing sonic characteristics of the production, when viewed upon as a whole. The band is apt to soar skyward via climactic overtures in concert with a crash-and-burn methodology. Needless to say, this affair represents a potent concoction of jazz fusion melded with folksy themes and an avant-garde-type swing vamp, evidenced on "The Glass Tent." Yet, after a string of enterprising solo outings, Shrieve's solo career quieted down to a near whisper during the late '90s and into the new millennium.

Glenn Astarita (All Music)

disc 1 : HERE

disc 2 : HERE

Pigpen : "Daylight"

(Tim/Kerr, 1997)

I had been living in Seattle a short time when Jerry Granelli, the great drummer, who was teaching at Cornish at the time, called me up. He was making a record with Anthony Cox, Bill Frisell, Robben Ford and Kenny Garrett and he wanted me to write an arrangement or two. He was thinking about the book Coming Through Slaughter, the great novel about Buddy Bolden, so I wrote a tune for him called In That Number. The tune was a bit tricky, so Jerry asked if he could come over with a couple of local guys and rehearse it ahead of time, since the “real” band wouldn’t be arriving until the day of the recording. He arrived with Phil Sparks, a Seattle bass player I have worked with many times since, and Briggan Krauss, who arrived with blue hair as I recall. Briggan and I became fast friends. I was and still am a huge fan of his alto playing, and I think that he may have the most original concept on the alto of anyone of his generation. Through Briggan, I met a whole crew of folks that were going to Cornish at the time, all of whom became musical partners in time…Tim Young, Geoff Harper, Mike Stone, Eyvind Kang, Reggie Watts and more.
I met Fred Chalenor through Fred Frith and Amy Denio, and he was floating between Portland and Seattle. He had been the last bass player in The President, and I was ready to put that band to rest and start something based in my new hometown. Briggan recommended Mke Stone. Musically, Pigpen was influenced by my tenure in Naked City, and my long time association with John Zorn more than any other project I have ever had. Actually I take that back – it was Naked City, and not my long time association with John. I played piano in jazz and blues bands, but keyboards and organ for me were mostly instruments I had come to use in more open situations. I had developed a language that I was very comfortable with, but in Naked City I was called upon to play keys on all styles of music, often following some stellar solo by Frisell, and on a DX-7 to boot. By the time the band broke up I felt I was just getting the hang of it. Also we had so many tunes that we often didn’t get a chance to dig into any of them, which was a blast, but also very challenging. So when I started writing for Pigpen I wanted to keep working on these challenges, and I also had in mind the aesthetic of the other guys in the band, and especially Mike and Briggan who were very young.
I found this generation curious (they were all about 15 years my junior) because they were very literate about jazz through Coltrane, and familiar with current trends at the time, including my own work and other “downtown scene” types, but they tended not to know a lot about the AACM, Art Ensemble, Cecil Taylor, or for that matter all the important Dutch, English and other international improvisers. Also we came from two very different eras of rock music, so I was suddenly surrounded by Black Sabbath and AC/DC fans. Mike Stone was particularly well versed in this milieu, having grown up in Bremerton WA, home to the naval base. When he conjured up the spirits of what he so eloquently termed “butt-rock” it rang true in a way that many similar attempts by various jazz drummers sometimes didn’t.
We made an EP, 2 full length CDs and a live CD for Tim Kerr – Halfrack, Miss Ann, Daylight, and Live in Poland. We also did a 7 inch for Tim Kerr, and V as in Victim for the AVANT label. Pigpen performed a few European tours, and some gigs on the East Coast, but mostly we played in the Northwest and down into California.
Over time the Naked City influence seemed to wear away and I think both Miss Ann and Daylight really represent my favorite work the band did, although a lot of fans are especially fond of Live In Poland. My daughter’s favorite track is Kind of Dead which is the A side of the 7”. The piece used a sample from the first Grateful Dead album and some chords from Kind of Blue…hence the title.
And yes, PIGPEN was named for the keyboard player in the Grateful Dead.

by Wayne Horvitz himself on his blog.

HERE

Jim Staley : "Mumbo Jumbo"

(Einstein, 1993)

Jim Staley is one of the best trombonists you've never heard. His playing combines the technique of George Lewis with the playfulness of Jack Teagarden to produce wonders on his instrument. This recording is a series of four trio groupings with elite members of New York's downtown crowd in the mid-'80s, and fairly represents some of the state-of-the-art performances at the time. Among Staley's partners are John Zorn (alto saxophone), Bill Frisell (guitar), Shelley Hirsch (vocals), and Elliott Sharp (double-neck guitar/bass and soprano saxophone). While the novelty of these unions has paled somewhat over time, the playing is first-rate, and the self-effacing, under-recorded Staley is featured throughout. Most of the pieces sound like snippets, without melody or linear development. Still, they are fascinating structures, both for the quality of improvisation and for capturing a slice of an important freestyle genre.

Steve Loewy (All Music)

HERE

Ponga

(Loosegroove, 1999)

Entirely improvised from start to finish, this collection of what were essentially jam sessions (both live and in the studio) captures some moments of extremely heavy jazz. On Ponga, fusion giants Wayne Horvitz (keyboards) and Bobby Previte (drums) are joined by two relatively upstart Seattle musicians Skerik (sax) and Dave Palmer (keyboards). All four players had credible resumés when Ponga was assembled in the late '90s, but nothing they had done (especially recently) suggested the power and rare musicality of this eponymous debut. The music is difficult to describe and the word fusion comes to mind most often, but with so much wrongheaded jazz and barely salient prog titles often listed under the lowly rubric, well, it wouldn't be a fair description. The minimal "Awesome Wells" is a standout only for its spacious, bluesy texture that effectively gives the listener a break from the full-tilt progressive and noisy jazz that comes before and after. Cacophonous but utterly musical, Ponga is first-rate funk, experimental racket, and free jazz combined into one righteous package.

Vincent Jeffries (All Music)

HERE

A confederacy of dances vol. 1

(Einstein, 1992)

Based in New York City since the late '70s, the Roulette collective has been sponsoring new music events for years. By the time this compilation was released in 1992, Roulette had organized nearly a thousand performances, many featuring some of the most outrageous cutting-edge music. This CD collects excerpts from some of the best concerts during a seven-year period, and unsurprisingly, the uniformly stellar performances sparkle with excitement. Whether a Billy Bang solo violin tribute to Albert Ayler, the premiere of one of John Zorn's game pieces, David Weinstein's deconstruction of national anthems, or the shimmering beauty of vocalist Jeanne Lee and trumpeter Wadada Leo Smith in tandem, the 14 tracks should delight anyone open to adventurous sounds.

Steve Loewy (All Music)

notes :

*1) : Bill Frisell, guitar & effects (16/04/1988)
*2) : Christian Marclay, turntables (14/03/1987)
*3) : Tohban Djan : Ikue Mori, drums & drum machine. Luli Shioi, voice & bass. Hahn Rowe, violin. Davey Williams, guitar (12/11/1989)
*4) : Zeena Parkins, electric harp & electronics (22/03/1990)
*5) : Billy Bang, violin (26/02/1988)
*6) : Anthony Coleman, sampling keyboards. Jim Pugliese, drums & sampler. Don Byron, clarinet. Guy Klucevsek, accordion (30/03/1990)
*7) : David Weinstein, sampling & electronic keyboard (27/04/1989)
*8) : Chris Cochrane, guitar (14/11/1987)
*9) : Ron Kuivila, home-made electronics & microcomputer (25/10/1987)
*10) : John Zorn, reeds. Vicki Bodner, oboe & english horn. Carol Emanuel, harp. Wayne Horvitz, electronic keyboard. Robert James, tapes & sfx. Arto Lindsay, voice & guitar. Christian Marclay, turntables. M.E. Miller, drums. Ursula Oppens, piano. Robin Holcomb, prompter (27/04/1984)
*11) : Mary Rowell, violin. Erik Friedlander, cello. Jonathan Storck, doublebass (23/03/1991)
*12) : David Weinstein, sampling & electronic keyboard (27/04/1989)
*13) : Shelley Hirsch, voice. Ikue Mori, drum machines. David Shea, turntables. Jim Staley, trombone (18/07/1991)
*14) : Jeanne Lee, voice. Wadada Leo Smith, trumpet (21/10/1989)

HERE

Bobby previte : "Claude's late morning"

(Gramavision, 1988)

Bobby Previte's Claude's Late Morning is a pivotal release in the composer/drummer's early career as a bandleader, signifying his ability to break from somewhat conventional jazz instrumentation (as in Bump the Renaissance and Pushing the Envelope) and — with great success — write for an ensemble featuring a wide array of both acoustic and electronic instruments. Perhaps most striking is Previte's skill in composing music that fully integrates these disparate instruments — including drums and drum machine, electric guitar and keyboards, trombone, harp, accordion, banjo, pedal steel guitar, tuba, and harmonica — while emphasizing each instrument's unique, individual sound. The opening number, "Look Both Ways," displays what could be considered a signature Previte style; he builds the piece from fragments — short riffs, glissandos, minimalist ostinatos, and a handful of chords — all of which fit into a sonic puzzle held together by his driving, thrashing percussion. The result has multi-layered depth that draws the listener in, while of course maintaining hard-charging forward momentum (and, it should be mentioned, providing room for a screaming Bill Frisell guitar solo). "Sometimes You Need an Airport," with its infectious backbeat and polyrhythmic riffing, gives trombonist Ray Anderson a chance to cut loose, and also features some Hammond organ stylings from Wayne Horvitz that recall Joe Zawinul with early electric Miles Davis; Previte's love of the trumpeter's late-'60s and early-'70s music would later be on full display with his Miles repertory band the Horse (aka the Voodoo Orchestra). "The Voice" places a blistering solo from Frisell over hard-hitting accompaniment, suggesting a blues-rock band with undercurrents of the more ominously dramatic moments from Phillip Glass' Koyaanisqatsi. And then, at the album's midpoint, Previte loosens the reins and reveals the full extent of his skills as a composer in the contemporary avant-garde. The cinematic "Claude's Late Morning" is at turns focused and disorientingly ethereal; especially near the beginning, it has the uneasy sense of a pleasant dream on the verge of turning nightmarish. The darkness is held at bay, however, as the piece glides through beautiful, hovering passages (prominently featuring Guy Klucevsek's moody accordion) before drawing to an understated close. Banjo, pedal steel, harp, and country-tinged piano next color "First Song for Kate," a venture into Americana that wouldn't be out of place on a Frisell record from a decade or so later. In the lovely and reserved "Ballet," the many instruments pirouette in nearly minimalist fashion around shifting rhythmic pulses; there are no drums, and Previte is featured only on marimba this time around. "Look Both Ways" is reprised near the conclusion of Claude's Late Morning and, as the album draws to a close, its sense of cohesion despite the juggling of diverse styles seems all the more remarkable. This is an essential recording for those interested in Bobby Previte's range as a composer and bandleader; it remains one of his strongest and most appealing recordings in a career that would have many peaks to follow.

Dave Lynch (All Music)

HERE

John Zorn + Wayne Horvitz + Elliott Sharp + Bobby Previte : "Downtown lullaby"

(Depth of Field, 1997)

HERE

The President : "Miracle mile"

(Elektra, 1992)

To set the record straight, the original band was called The President of the United States of America. We often called it The President for short, and of course I had been living in Seattle for a while when the “other” band came along. The band with Elliott Sharp and Frisell played at a dive in midtown Manhattan, the name of which I forget. It was there that some folks from Nonesuch came down. They had already heard Dinner at Eight and The President and it was all of the former and some of the latter that they released, or rather re-released. Both those records were made for budgets in the hundreds of dollars.
Bring Yr Camera was made for a budget much, much larger, at the Power Station in NY, and predictably there are many things I like about the low-budget records better in hindsight. I did record many of the classic President tunes on Bring Yr Camera, especially Andre’s Mood (Andre was a favorite cat) and 3 Crows. Neither of them are my favorite readings of these tunes. I felt compelled to fill up a lot of space on Andre’s Mood that traditionally was left more spare. My favorite soloist on 3 Crows was always Stew Cutler, and I just didn’t get that from Elliott. Ironically, it was the newest tunes that sounded best, and speaking of Elliott, his solos on Philip and Hearts Are Broken are incredible, and when he hits the IV chord on Philip I always get chills. This was written years ago for my younger brother, who passed away a few years ago, and the only time I have played this tune since the band broke up was at his memorial at St. Mark’s Church in the Bowery with Doug, Tim Luntzel, Kenny Wollesen and Stew Cutler. I like Our Hands of Water a lot as well. It was one of those things where suddenly we get the big studio and the expensive engineer and it was almost too much. I remember we were all on a “no reverb” kick because we hated the sound of all those ECM records that were swimming in reverb, and actually the engineer had worked with Pat Metheney a lot. The mixes had no vibe and we went back with our tails between our legs and begged for reverb. It was also the era of 20 mikes on the drum set. A lot of reviews back then mentioned the “great Hammond B-3 samples.” Of course it was a real B-3, but that was the decade between the B-3 being forgotten and the great B-3 revival of the 90s and since. We got a lot of nice notices, including my favorite, which mentioned “Sonny Boy Williamson in a Zen Temple.” It was interesting that a lot of critics said it was like fusion music, but anti-fusion at the same time. I could relate to that because I hated what fusion had become – really wretched music, but early Weather Report and Electric Miles Davis meant the world to me. The President didn’t sound like that but it certainly helped to inspire us. Dave Tronzo had replaced Bill Frisell, and he sounded killer, and we had a tour of Europe that had its ups and downs.
The next, and last, CD was Miracle Mile, which was somewhere in between. It was all new tunes, and some of it was done like a solo recording, with sequences and some drum machine and some real drums, samples but also lots of real playing. Recorded in NY and Seattle, I think it is a fine record for the most part. Ironically, not that many tunes ended up in the live repertoire. Some of them were hard to reproduce, and probably the most successful tune live was also the most unlikely -Variations on a Theme by W.C. Handy. I started doing a 6 piece version but with only 1 guitar for a while, with Kermit Driscoll on bass, J.A. Deane on samples and amplified trombone, and Stew Cutler. I liked this version because it wasn’t as guitar heavy, and the ambient stuff that Dino did was a perfect contrast to Stew, who tended to lay it down more in the pocket in a way that I think served the original intention of the band. At the same time, beside Elliott’s stellar solos and Tronzo’s, there are moments where Bill’s playing on the first President disc is some of my favorite moments of anything I have ever recorded. Speaking of guitar, with all that talent I still turned to Doug to lay down some of the rhythm guitar. He just had the right thing happening.
The last tour was a fun one, with Fred Chalenor on bass, and back to a 5-piece band. This was always a hard band live. The balance had to be just right, and by stripping it down in a way this was by far the most workable incarnation, and we had a good time. Bobby, Doug, Stew, myself and Fred. One day Fred and Stew kept looking at me on the train, and finally Stew said to me, “Man, you can really keep it together.” I asked him what the hell he was talking about. Turns out they had been drinking the night before and got the clever idea to stack a bunch of stuff in front of my hotel room door as a “surprise” in the morning. Thing was, they had the wrong room. Who knows who got the surprise.

By Wayne Horvitz himself on his blog.

HERE

The President : "Bring yr camera"

(Elektra, 1989)

First rehearsal today, just with Keith Lowe on bass and Steve Moore on keyboards and trombone. So much of this music was worked out over years of rehearsal and throwing around ideas, and now I am scoring it and teaching it to new folks in a matter of hours. Lots of small mistakes in the parts, but we accomplished a lot. It is great to be sharing this music with these folks, and I am very much looking forward to hearing Tim Young, who I have played so much music with in this last decade, dig into this material from the past.
The President is the oldest of the five projects that will be presented next month. The recorded output of the band is sort of a reverse accounting of the compositions in terms of their chronology. I may have a few details wrong, but if memory serves me, I started the band within a year or so of moving to New York in 1979. In the fall of 1979, five Santa Cruz transplants rented a small basement on Morton Street in the West Village. A few things inspired me to start this assemblage. When I arrived in New York, I was at the tail end with an all out obsession with the music of Cecil Taylor, Sun Ra, Ornette, The Art Ensemble of Chicago, etc. Sometime that first winter Robin (Holcomb) and I went uptown and saw The Last Waltz. I had been a fan of The Band, and many of the folks in that movie, for years, but somehow I had lost a connection. Indicative of that was the fact that in all my college years at UCSC lots of great bands came through town, and yet I rarely went to hear anything outside of the “free jazz” world with the exception of one memorable Captain Beefheart gig, and as I recall, some incarnation of the Jefferson Airplane. The Last Waltz was a wake up call though, and shortly thereafter I became aware of and part of all that was happening at CBGB’s, Danceteria, Mudd Club et al. A few other things…Bobby Previte and I met via Elliot Sharp. I became very aware of The Meters through my friend Dave Hofstra, and something was in the air. The original band was based off of a few bass lines and guitar licks. I was playing bass at the time. We rehearsed at Studio Henry and played some early gigs at CBGB’s, Studio Henry and other places. The band was myself, Previte, Dave Sewelson on sax, Kevin Cosgrove on guitar and Joe Gallant on bass. Kevin was a friend from junior high, and I have no idea where he is now. Joe Gallant I gather is a porn star and producer, and Dave remains a dear friend and great baritone player. I really don’t remember a lot, but over time Doug Wieselman replaced Sewelson. I was hearing tenor and a different concept. Dave Hofstra took over on bass, and Bobby’s friend from Buffalo, Stew Cutler, started playing guitar.
I was interviewed on radio on few years later by Tania Leon, who mentioned that I seemed to be influenced by minimalist music. I was sort of taken aback, although I suppose it made sense. The only thing I could think to say at the time was that maybe Reich, Glass and that group had some influences in common, but I didn’t see why repetition and overlapping rhythmic cycles was the property of the Minimalists. The early tunes evolved from simple riffs, working with early sequencers and drum machines, and of course DX-7. I never played Gamelan music, but I was around a lot of it in college. I suppose there was some influence from that as well, in the various cycles of various lengths that inform a lot of the music, but the most important thing I took away from Indonesian music was the role of the soloist. I was particulary taken with a tape a friend of mine had given me of Kachapi/Suling music – the place of the Suling and the Rebab.
Simply put, the “improvising soloist” was less of a featured role and more inside the texture of the music. In jazz and blues music I was hearing, the soloist was stretching farther and farther out over standard changes. I became attracted to the improviser playing relatively “inside,” particularly in a modal or blues fashion, against different harmonic ideas. I suppose it was sort of polytonal, like reharmonizing a folk song, something that I have played with ever since I first played simple Bartok pieces from the Mikrokosmos.
When I moved to San Francisco in 1985, for a year the band was on hold. I made a record with Butch Morris and William Parker that was much more open, and I had formed the HMP trio. I got a DX-7 and a drum machine and made a sort of solo record called Dinner At Eight. This later made up most of the Nonesuch release, This New Generation. Many people thought the title was a reference to our music scene, but actually it referred to the pending birth of my first child. This record started a sort of second stage of writing with certain types of beats and cycles. Back in New York I started another set of pieces, all on a Tascam 4-Track, but Previte played triggered drums. We couldn’t have drums in the 5th floor walk up in which I was recording. Both Elliott Sharp and Bill Frisell played guitars. I titled this record The President. Even though the band was now almost 7 years old, it had almost faded, but this was the start of a period of greater activity and recording that would last several years.

by Wayne Horvitz himself on his blog.

HERE