Documentation and Discourse

The fresh-faced and virtuosic Mr. Rapport is an improviser/composer with one of the broadest-and most incongruously heterodoxical-musical sensibilities I have ever encountered, comparable no doubt in some ways to John Zorn and Steve Beresford. An encyclopedic knowledge of obscure pop-genres co-exists in Rapport with deep obsessions in obscure 'ethnic music,' "difficult" modernist string quartets and Sun Ra; while his original compositions and improvisations have a uniquely fragmented, fragile, and bedeviling hyper-subjective 'perversity' all their own. The pure tone and clipped phrasing of his reed playing recalls Steve Lacy. Recently, Evan has been one third of "Companion Trio" (with Bob Wagner and Jerry Lim) and a member of the jazzier unit Krill (with Vattel Cherry and John Dierker).

In addition to his experimental activities, he is one of the few Baltimore improvisers to work as a professional musician in conventional music, playing in various bands (he once had a major stint with The Tommy Dorsey Orchestra!) and teaching conventional music. Occasionally, he is also an incredible funk and soul DJ, with real skills. He was also one of the founders of The Red Room and an avid organizer of experimental music and film in Baltimore. At the time of this writing he is moving to NYC, for a stint in graduate school in Ethnomusicology.

John Berndt: What role do you think instrumental technique or virtuosity plays in your various different music activities? How do your musical aesthetics relate to your training and practice in jazz and classical music?

Evan Rapport: Well, John, it plays a monstrous role. (pours gin and tonic into glass) My practicing at this point consists of almost nothing but developing conventional skills. There's no real ideological motivation behind this. I like playing my etudes on clarinet and flute when I practice. I'm like a little doggy when it comes to the saxophone. If I'm not chomping on a mouthpiece or running my fingers a certain amount every day I start to ache and then I find myself biting my steering wheel to the shock and disgust of those around me. I do believe in the beneficient impact of practicing and theory, my ear is well-trained and I teach my students pretty conventionally.

But during my performances I try to actively negate what I've learned during practicing. I mean that I do things to fuck myself up. That was eventually what became a major impetus behind my multi-reed stuff, and playing instruments like the oboe, and sticking recorders up my nose. Because I have very little control with these things. Even when I get a little bit of mastery I am aware that I may lose control at the drop of a hat, just physically trying to handle three horns at once. Sometimes I like to play with the wrong hands and stuff like that. When I'm not physically trying to trip myself up, I often do it mentally. This is to keep things exciting, to surprise myself. I also know that if I am surprising myself and getting a thrill that the listener might feel the same way. It's also a way of trying to get past my automated responses to open my mind up and perhaps glimpse a deeper truth. But this isn't anything like "unlearning what I've already learned" because in practice I actually train harder and harder. It's contradictory, but a fun game.

John Berndt: You've often characterized yourself as a jazz musician, despite the fact that, for instance, your solo improvisations are often completely abstract and right on the edge of having any kind of traditional musical or gestural reference at all, by my lights at least. Where do you get 'permission' to use the word "jazz" to cross that leap into such strange music? How does this fit into the continuum of usual cultural meanings, if at all?

Evan Rapport: I go back and forth on this one. I used to say "I'm a jazz musician," because that's really what my background is and I thought it created an interesting context for the music. In other words, if I go up and play something completely unidiomatic and say it's jazz, it opens up questions. At times it's a purely reactionary statement because many people want to deny the existence of genre, or invent their own names for what they play and all that, and I get feeling a little mischievous. I played a jazz festival in Rehobeth Beach, Delaware, with Companion Trio which was a great example of absurd misrepresentation because of labels. People did not hear what they thought they were going to hear, but of course that's a great thing and I do everything in my power to play my ass off and help those people get into it rather than storm out all pissed off or whatever.

I think I read something once where Anthony Braxton said that idiom was defined by instrumentation alone. I think he might have been expressing frustration, but I thought that was really amusing. In other words, if I'm doing something with Companion Trio, the instrumentation of that group alone defines it as a jazz group regardless of what we play. If I write a piece for orchestra, regardless of the content it is viewed as a classical piece. I don't agree with that interpretation, of course, but I do think it shines an interesting light on the way people react to genre and idiom in general. I do think that when someone is crossing a boundary of genre and instrumentation, that move is seen at most as a fusion of some sort, which is unfortunate. I do feel that instrumentation and genre are forever bound together. Right now I'm not really calling myself a jazz musician, although deep down I feel like I'm playing better jazz than I ever have before.

Of course, the truth is that I'm a member of a marginalized group of musicians, and very few people care about how we label ourselves. I'm not interested in infighting and what my friend Matt Paddock used to call "Top Rat on the Shitpile" mentality. If only I had become a famous jazz musician first and then started playing all of this crazy shit, I could really have been mischevious.

John Berndt: Non-musical, philosophical, and perhaps religious influences seem to motivate some of your musical sensibility. Can you detail some of those, and any concrete effects they might have on musical choices?

Evan Rapport: A lot of the books you have lent me would fall into this category. [To the reader: John has lent me many books on what he terms the "history of human folly."] For example, Gurdjieff and Ouspensky, there's a lot of thought-provoking material in there, from the ridiculous, charlatan-esque aspects to the more intellectual. The act of physically trying to mess with my automated responses to glimpse an inner truth or whatever I said earlier was definitely crystallized by reading Ouspensky. I love philosophy and religion passionately, systems of thought, it's all inspirational. It all comes from the soul and is intensely creative. Upon close examination most of these systems reveal themselves to be the truly brilliant creative expressions that humanity has produced, often way out-to-lunch as well, which is nice. I like math, numbers. Strange phenomena, remote parts of the world and odd animals really excite me, it's hard to say exactly how it might influence my musical choices though. I tend to jump around and enjoy getting into the arcana of different things.

Not to make any connection here, but something else I wanted to mention as a huge influence on what I do. That is sketches; I love to look at artists' sketches, musicians' sketches for pieces. To me this can be more fascinating then the end product in that you can see the brain at work and the creative process in action. I want to try and elevate that concept, my compositions for Companion Trio for example I hope have that quality. Not like Japanese line painting, where you try and make a beautiful aesthetic statement with one stroke - but rather the sketches with ripped pages, erase marks, scratches out, you can see the layers. Music with erase marks.

John Berndt: Despite being intimately involved in free improvisation for a long time, making great solo and group improvisations and recordings and clearly enjoying them, you seem to remain somewhat ambivalent about free improvisation in the abstract, particularly about listening to the endless recordings. I'm curious how this works out in your conscious values, if at all, and what the considerations are when deciding if something is worthy of attention/effort.

Evan Rapport: This is really a tough thing to talk about. I don't as a general rule like to listen to free improvisation. I think it's because I am so active in it right now. When I'm doing more conventional music I find myself listening to more free improv and craving it more. However, I feel like the bar is very high in free improv and it's really hard for me to listen to it if it's not really on... I don't necessarily feel like the proportions of interesting to garbage are any different in this music from any other music - but for some reason people feel like the genre itself makes it worthwhile, or that it's all smart and great. I actually feel the opposite. Jazz is a highly developed genre so I can get a lot more from a mediocre jazz record - the idiom itself is doing a lot of the work. With generic and idiomatic material often the works that seem the most generic are actually the most transcendent. Just from a pure enjoyment standpoint, I'll watch any old film-noir just because I love that genre; raw field recordings of folk music can fall into this category. But when it comes to more "conceptual" art, film, or music, the material must be enough to carry my interest at least somewhere, or I'm definitely going to have a tough time with it.

John Berndt: You are a religious person, with a strong interest in Judiasm and Judaica. Do you think that determines anything in your outlook, philosophically, aesthetically, or politically, in relation to improvised music or experimental composition?

Evan Rapport: Of course, but again it's hard to say because my relationship to my religion is constantly in flux. I have a great need to learn about Judaism as much as possible and my own history. I have very strong opinions about religion, especially from a historical and political context. But the personal context is where it mostly affects my music. Jewish literature, prayer, and study are highly complex, ancient, intricate thought systems like what we were talking about earlier. Reading the Torah is really quite a profound experience. Jewish literature from the Prophets to Psalms to the Zohar to Hasidic tales are great expressions of creativity. I want to dredge up some of the more uncomfortable stuff as well, which is extremely thought-provoking. I'm extremely interested in form, especially in my composition, and I love the structure of a service, rhythm of prayer.

I definitely have a push/pull attitude towards being a Jew. Really it has shaped my identity. Being Jewish is very paradoxical and I can't stress this enough: it's having an extremely demanding religion which you know is virtually impossible to fulfill, it's having many identities at once, it's layers upon layers of complexity. Jews are notorious for adding layers of complexity and difficulty where another religion might simplify. I feel like my attitude towards my own music reflects this: I tend to add layers of complexity, it's very paradoxical. It has had a strong impact on me in the more common religious way as well: ethics, humility, etc. Despite how much this world amuses and fascinates me I need the spaces that music and religion can both create - they are spaces where growth, insight, and even revelation can occur, which doesn't happen to most people at their jobs. It's interesting, I think of my music as very traditional. Innovations in Judaism take on the same character - they are always believed to be within the scope of tradition rather than revolutionary (from the innovator's perspective), regardless of their content.

John Berndt: If you could change the gestalt of free improvised music in any way as you encounter it, what would it be?

Evan Rapport: More listening, a more critical atmosphere in the sense of discourse. Also less worrying about the dollar bill. There is a belief that money does not rule this music like it does other music, a belief that I think is untrue. I don't think we are aware enough of our own shortcomings in that regard, we need more idealism.

Them links:

Mass Particles:

http://www.massparticles.com

[7"] Baldheaded Stepchildren. With Matt Paddock-reeds, Ben Lapidus-guitar, Matt Small-bass, David Justh-drums. Merry Dogger, 1995.

[7"] Nona Lim b/w Cluj, Companion Trio. With Jerry Lim-guitar, Josh Blair-drums. Mass Particles, 1997.

[CD] Companion Trio. With Jerry Lim-guitar, Bob Wagner-drums. Mass Particles, 1998.

[CD/LP] Introduction to Humanity, All Scars. With Chuck Bettis, Dug Birdzell, Jerry Busher, Brendan Canty, James Canty, Amy Farina. Slowdime, 1999.

[MP-3] Tour Recordings, Companion Trio. With Jerry Lim-guitar, Bob Wagner-drums. Sub:Mass, 1999.

[CD] Krill with John Dierker-reeds, Vattel Cherry-bass, Will Redman-drums. Mass Particles, 2000.

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