| This is actually the second solo set by Ernie Krivda (b.Feb. 6, 1945, Cleveland, OH). The first solo recording session came the day after Ernie recorded his trio (CIMP 366), June 22, 2007. That (unissued) solo session(s) produced some fine results with which Ernie was pleasantly surprised. Mentally, though, Ernie felt that he was not quite on the mark and so, three months later, he again drove up from Cleveland,Ohio, to try to make excellent more perfect. He arrived around mid evening and we (Marc, Susan, myself, and Ernie) immediately sat down for supper and engaged in a stimulating discussion of the nature of Jazz, Jazz aficionados, and the finer points of recording. Around 10 p.m. I asked Ernie if he wanted to do any recording this night and, to my surprise, he replied that he did. Ernie then set about what has become his routine when recording for CIMP. He took out his reeds, immersed them in water, and then warmed up—not in The Spirit Room but in a greenhouse-type area—before returning to The Spirit Room for sound checks and positioning. By 10:40 p.m. we were recording November Man. From this point it was clear to me that not only was Ernie in very strong voice but his solo work (at least on this opener) was more deliberate and lyrical than that of three months ago. The setting was sparser than usual—centered in the room, just a single saxman facing the mics. Listening, I again imagined how these solos would lend themselves to being transcribed and played, note for note, on other instruments, the cello in particular. As a listener trying to absorb all this in real time, I found I alternated between two different approaches. My immediate approach was to follow the musical line and ride along with it on a micro second delay, a kind of mental tape delay to offset and absorb the line. The second approach, an evolution of the first, was to affect a fulcrum between sound and silence and hear their parts make up the whole. I found the performances absorbing to the point where the breaks (times when Ernie would go back out to the greenhouse area and blow) were disruptive to the narrative of the listening experience. Particularly disruptive were his truncations , mid solo, for reasons unheard by me but real to Ernie who cited reed imperfections or “a distracted or conflicted focus.” He may have decided to stop playing but this listener was not ready to stop listening. In spite of these disruptions, the playing was so exhilarating that the experience was, in itself and cumulatively so, very exciting. There is an eloquence to the playing here: logical, conversational, with the occasional familiar—or mindful of a—Krivda theme (Ernie is one of the best composer/players on the scene) winding through his terraced constructions. About half of this date was done that evening, the rest the next morning. Ernie was in good shape and consistently strong. If there is any noticeable difference between the two sessions, it is that the September 20th tracks found Ernie to be more melodic and in song form. And purposely so, for Ernie is a very reasoned individual and takes seriously the objective of creating purposeful and distinct music. He expresses himself passionately, to please both himself and the listener. This is, of course, a highly subjective art but one in which it is possible to find approval by both the presenter and receiver. Ernie was pleased. I was pleased. And it is our hope that you, the final recipient, will also be pleased and thus complete the circle. |