Ivo Perelman is established as a long-time favourite of free-thinking
musicians for his technical ability, and musicality – which empower him to
play freely to the extent he pushes most of the rules regarding tonality
and musical contrasts to the extreme, yet provides cohesion and placement
of elements within his sound that reveal the true nature of the patterns to
which his music adheres. What Perelman is very good at also is listening,
which is why his multiple recordings with chosen collaborators work on
different levels. For many, music of such a ‘free’ nature as Perelman plays
is difficult to fathom so FJC decided a deep interview and perhaps
clarification from Perelman, who is currently one of the greatest exponents
of the art was in order.
Twelve albums this year – what has made this year so productive?
The reason for twelve CD releases this year is a combination of things. The
creativity, the need to express myself, the ebb and flow at different
times, and so on. This year I felt particularly moved and stimulated by the
resurgence of techniques – new paths to explore from the technical point of
view like timing, altissimo register, low register, in other words, the
basics of saxophone playing. These compulsions to explore and re-explore
renewed themselves and I was eager to put them to the test in a real
situation when I was recording in New York at Park West Studios (In
Prospect Park South, Brooklyn). All the parameters are well known to me,
and I feel comfortable there. I recorded with a combination of musicians I
had worked with in the past, as this is an excellent way to re-examine my
relationship with music technique in these particular duos and also several
new musicians – new in the sense I had never worked with them before and
was not familiar with their playing. This gave me another chance to test
and verify if I was going in the right direction in my practice.
As a footnote, the world is currently going through a dramatic situation –
political, social, bio-physical, and climate-wise– and this affects artists
because we clearly understand where we, as humankind, are going and what we
are maybe approaching. The need to speak through music is ineffable and
words cannot address these issues properly, so I found myself looking for
possible dates in the studio. Several labels had kept recordings in their
cans in the vaults waiting to release them, so I felt it good to release
these. That is why twelve CDs this year.
You have collaborated with many musicians. What ticks your boxes when
considering a musician to work with?
I wish I had a formula when listening to somebody’s music to determine the
degree of compatibility and success I could have with them but there is no
such formula. It is mainly instinctive appreciation. Of course, right away
I might think, ‘Well, this person comes from a similar background as me,’
be it classical or jazz. If jazz, then I have to ask myself ‘What kind of
jazz?’ The same can be said of the person’s technical ability to execute
and perform. I form an instinctive opinion. Mind you, too much technique
can be as non-productive as not enough. What matters is a person’s ability
to convey their inner vision and their voice. That is way more important
than technique, knowledge, amassed languages, or how much history of jazz,
classical, or world music this person has. To sum it up, it is a mixture of
some analytical rationale but mainly it is instinct. I would say
ninety-five to ninety-eight percent of the time when I have listened to
someone and made a decision, I was right. In many encounters, I was
pleasantly surprised to find that what I thought was compatibility was
extreme congeniality. This part of the music-making business makes me very
happy – because it works.
Finally, on this question the main ingredient of a person’s palette of
talents I look for when deciding to record with whoever is spontaneity.
That is the most important thing over anything else I have talked to you
about. It’s hard to determine to a high degree what the person’s ability to
react spontaneously with me is going to be. Sometimes a person is playing
with other people and there might be facts that impede them from reacting
spontaneously. It might be something that happened the night before, the
surroundings in the studio – it is a very subjective matter. That said, I
can usually tell how spontaneous a musician I am listening to is likely to
be. So, spontaneity is the number one ingredient I am looking for in a
musician before we finally get to do a recording.
What is it I try to hear in a musical partnership? A musician who can
convey their inner voice with fluidity using whatever technical,
psychological, or existential apparatus he or she has that will enable the
musicians to come across coherently. What I mean by ‘coherently’ is
something I can codify (or decodify). It doesn’t have to be ‘coherent,
structured’ music. Music is like anything–it can be rational, or
irrational. It can follow the chaos theory, or a predictable mathematical
pattern and all that involves.
Anything to add on spontaneity?
Here’s an interesting thought regarding spontaneity. With some musicians,
the less spontaneous they are, the more prefabricated, pre-tested, and
tried licks and lines they will play. That’s not a 100 percent rule that
works at all times. Some great musicians can be very spontaneous but for
reasons that escape my understanding, they prefer to stick to a rigid
protocol of recreating lines or similar lines that constitute the jazz
vernacular, or that of mainstream jazz, which is a beautiful language that
I love and grew up listening to. Some musicians are like this. Other
musicians, however, the more spontaneous they are the less they need or
prefer to resort to licks and line study, and they prefer to give way to
their imagination and let the music dictate what will be said next. So,
they will preview a musical line and in a split-second recreate a line on
their instruments.
Do you ever collaborate with someone you have not played with before?
Sometimes I do it, but it is a risk. Some boxes have to be ticked so I know
we have a good chance of communicating. If I know they are reputable and he
or she works with many of my usual cohorts, then I will take the maximum
risk and that excites me. It is my favourite challenge. It is like meeting
someone for the first time. You are on your toes and very alert, and
usually the music-making benefits immensely.
Playing live is different, I guess, from recording. Where is your
favourite venue?
It was The Knitting Factory on Houston Street in New York. It is no more as
it moved to another location (Metropolitan Ave, Brooklyn). Anyhow, it was
a genuine, underground place that started to gain a reputation for being an
authentic meeting spot for up-and-coming creative musicians. Many of the
well-established acts that exist today cut their teeth there. That’s where
I met many of the great people I play with. I once met Paul Bley outside
the Knitting Factory while waiting for a show and had a great conversation
with him. At the time, I was talking with this guy, whose name I didn’t
know but he had great insight on so many beautiful topics –philosophy and
others and we talked for over an hour. At the end of our conversation, he
said, ‘Well, thank you very much, my name is Paul Bley,’ and I said ‘What?
Paul Bley the pianist?’ I invited him to come the next day to a recording
session I was having in Manhattan and he showed up, sat at a piano, and
improvised a piece and that was that. So I have great memories of the
Knitting Factory.
Another great venue is the Bimhuis in Amsterdam. I had great gigs there,
though I only played there a couple of times. They have a restaurant, they
treat you well, feed you before the gig, and draw incredible crowds that
appreciate the music. Not to mention that I saw so many great musicians
there – Charles Gayle, and Matthew Shipp – one of the first times I saw
Matt Shipp live was back in the 1990s there – so many great memories.
Usually, if a venue treats you right, you can feel it in the air and when
the public shows up, knows you, and respects you, magic is created.
You are originally from Brazil – do you know what the music industry is
like there? What made you move to the US?
I left Brazil some 43 years ago searching to deepen my understanding of
music. I was playing semi-professionally in New Orleans style back then and
trying to absorb as much as I could from what was available. There was no
internet, and today young musicians can learn quite a bit by searching for
apps and long-distance schooling, but back then, there was this almost
mysterious aura about jazz. How to learn it was my question. I was slowing
down solos, notating them, trying to emulate my favourite players– like
Wayne Shorter and Paul Desmond but it seemed the only way to truly
experience jazz was by living in the United States, making it a wholly
immersive experience –a life experience. I had a friend who had a
scholarship to Berklee College, and I applied, got accepted, and left
Brazil. I have been away from Brazil for so many years that I am not really
familiar with the music industry there. But it seems that the few major
recording labels left there are interested in what they call ‘vocal music.’
Other music like classical, jazz, and other instrumental music – even
Brazilian music like choro is not really fostered. The big Brazilian bucks
are in the major pop industry – the major singers – and they have
excellent pop music to this day. Besides all that, it is pretty much like
in the US. There’s a blossoming market surrounding Internet platforms, with
artists taking matters into their own hands, releasing their projects, and
getting by like that. It’s been a challenging time, but the main thing is
to get your message across, find your audience, and take it from there.
We have discussed music and free jazz a lot and you have said free jazz
is the closest to classical music in your opinion. Some might disagree
but could you expand on this thought, so people understand what you
mean?
They are extremes of the same axis – they are diametrically opposed to one
another and very different, completely different, so that is why they are
the same thing. Let me explain. The responsibility you have when writing
music for the classical world is huge because you have all the time in the
world to analyse and reflect on what you did. One hundred percent. You can
wake up in the middle of the night and write more or erase everything. Free
jazz is the exact opposite. You don’t have the luxury of undoing what you
just did, whether live or in the studio. Both languages require a huge
reservoir of knowledge and technical means. It is definitely not for
budding musicians, students, or wannabes. If you are a composer, you have
to be born a composer. You hone your skills through intense studies and the
same goes for free jazz musicians. Imagine playing your instrument in a
context where anything and everything is allowed and possible and only
dictated by your will, and most likely comes from this spontaneous
compartment in your mental apparatus. That requires a lot of
responsibility. Because of that, I think they are diametrically opposed,
and yet completely different, which makes them the same thing, the exact
opposites, the reverse of the reverse. I understand why some people will
not understand or get it but free jazz at its most effective presentation,
played by the most respected prominent artists, has the same structure, and
solidity of development of ideas as classical music at its best. If we are
talking about great composers – those born with that gift, that have the
same spontaneity, although the music is pre-thought and pre-composed, it
has a flow that gives the impression that they are playing for the first
time with total honesty. I guess that explains it.
You play a lot in the altissimo register – why is this?
I can understand why you ask me why I play so much in the altissimo
register but that’s not how I see it. I play what’s available to me
technically. If I may, let me explain. Ever since I was a boy, when I
started my music studies, playing classical guitar, then electric guitar
before I moved to clarinet, trombone, piano, and other instruments, I
always had an affinity with the high register. This was especially true
when I was studying and playing rock with bands. All those high-screaming
guitar solos talked to me, so I have had an affinity for those sounds ever
since. Then when I started winging it a little bit and studying singing I
learned that I could sing in falsetto. You cannot fake it.
So when I began studying the saxophone I naturally geared towards and
listened to musicians who could play the altissimo registers. I tried to
perfect this obsessively using different techniques and some I had to
develop to achieve my goals. So, I feel my altissimo has an articulated
nature that differs from other musicians. This is very seductive to me
because I want to play the altissimo with the same control as I play other
registers –being in tune, steady-toned, and the tone has that full body– I
don’t want to thin out in the altissimo.
It takes a lot of work daily because the muscles involved are many and you
have to keep practicing daily in order to always be ready. As with so many
professional musicians, I don’t have that much time to practice but I go
for that as one of my hierarchies of practice methods. Altissimo is there
every day. Even if I don’t have time to practice anything else, I will
practice my altissimo – it is a challenge. So I sound different from other
players in that regard. So therefore you don’t hear altissimo as much in
other sax players’ playing, although this is changing. The new generation
seems to be evolving towards that. So, when you ask me why I play in
altissimo so much, it is not that I play a lot in altissimo, it is that
most sax players don’t play there enough. I understand your question, but I
play there because it is under my fingers, it is inside my head. I hear it
and find it a valuable way to express drama, contrast, and reach the
musical phrasing I feel. I hope that explains.
You release on your own label as well as established labels – are there
advantages and disadvantages?
I enjoy recording music and releasing it on a multitude of labels and also
on my label, especially recently. I have beefed up my need to produce
recordings. The advantages and disadvantages are that if I have produced
the music I am in control of everything from scratch, from the cover
design to the date of release. Not that labels don’t do a good job, they do
but it is just more fun. You get closer to your ‘child,’ your recording and
it is another avenue for self-expression. A disadvantage is most labels
have a solid structure and that is what they do – they don’t have to
practice the saxophone and think about other things because the business is
their main goal, so they make the phone calls, promote, and call the
writers but for sure labels make sure that their product is widely
available wherever possible – digital and even physical outlets. There are
few physical outlets available for this kind of music – or any music for
that matter.
You are known for approaching particular writers to review your music (
and I include many of the FJC journalists here). Why might this be and
what do you think a writer needs to be able to critique music properly?
I have over the years got to know several jazz critics through their
writing and thoughts. I kind of got close to them in a way and one starts
to understand their philosophical, if I may, point of view in life and
their understanding of life and music. It is hard to be a critic because
art is a highly subjective experience, and it is hard to transfer that to
words and then to another human being’s understanding, and what the text
says will not necessarily agree with the listener’s perception of the
music. It is a healthy exercise in the idiosyncratic human values. Most of
the time I don’t agree with critics, not because the review is good or bad
but because it is such a personal experience of what I felt and what it
felt like to perform in the studio with other musicians, and afterward.
That is something else. I believe art is a vehicle for daily transformation
so your perception of how it feels changes from moment to moment, so it is
very difficult to write and be a critic. I highly respect them for sticking
their neck out and trying to do that because it is helpful for the music
industry to have writers convey their impressions because that helps spread
artists’ inner vision. I have got to know some wonderful writers. They
comprise a smaller group within an already small group. Those are folks
that I have read, and they always keep me perplexed either because their
vision coincides with mine – which is amazing – or because their views do
not coincide with mine, but I learn a great deal. That is even more amazing
because it is a transformative tool, and I welcome the views where a writer
thinks that it does not make sense or whatever. That is a very deep
subject, Sammy.
Ok, so a lighter question. What next for Ivo Perelman musically?
I have reached a phase where I am at the end of a cycle of re-investigating
the fundamentals of music: sound production, the language I hear in my
head, fundamentals of the language that others have professed. What I am
focussing on now – and I can see this will be the major goal for the next
few years– is deepening my understanding of my primary instrument, which is
my own body which plays the instrument I play which is the saxophone. I
have been studying the Alexandra Technique for over 25 years now and have
been intensifying that study because I can tell that the time has come to
go to the next level. It was created by F M Alexander – a Tasmanian who
moved to London in the last century and established a centre for teaching
the technique he devised. He was a Shakespeare recital actor who lost his
voice when he was performing. Doctors could not help him, so he took a
sabbatical to try to understand and self-study to see what he was doing. He
did this in front of mirrors because the problem – the hoarseness in his
voice– only came about when he recited. He came up with an ingenious
technique of conscious control of oneself. That is exciting. It is not
specifically music, but it is the mechanism that operates music that is my
own body. (Ivo later told me he is coming over to the UK in October to
record with John Butcher. Ivo describes Butcher as a ‘multi-faceted
musician with an original, elegant, yet powerful sax voice. He collaborated
with Matthew Shipp, among many other major artists, which is a further
testament to his versatile in-the-moment highly sophisticated skills.’ This
should make an interesting recording.
Ivo never fails to intrigue and surprise – we can only wonder where his
next musical path will take him.