CD Review: Inner Constellation - Bruce Eisenbeil Sextet

by Tom Watson.

Inner Constellation, Volume One (Nemu Records) is the latest album from guitarist and composer Bruce Eisenbeil. The performing sextet consists of Eisenbeil with Jean Cook (violin), Nate Wooley (trumpet), Aaron Ali Shaikh (alto sax), Tom Abbs (bass) and Nasheet Waits (drums). Though jazz-like in nature, Inner Constellation is well removed from straight ahead or mainstream. Possibly best described as polystylistic, the album challenges conventional ways of listening to and thinking about composition and improvisation. The street date is September 18, 2007.

The facts

Inner Constellation consists of four tracks: "Inner Constellation" (47:28); "Rain In The Face" (3:22); "Cues To The Vagabond" (3:45); and, "Receding Storm" (3:15). The lengthy title track is in sextet format. The three subsequent tunes are trio performances by Eisenbeil, Abbs and Waits. The album represents the first part of a trilogy by Eisenbeil. Information about the subsequent volumes is not yet available.

"Inner Constellation" is the focal point of the album and of this review. It is a unified piece consisting of 27 passages that are individually identified on the CD packaging and the disc's meta-data though, as pointed out in the liner notes: "The track points are provided for the listener's convenience and do not indicate divisions of the work."

When asked what guitar, amps, and effects he used for Inner Constellation, Eisenbeil replied:

Most drummers I play with use sticks a lot more than brushes. The dynamic levels in any given set are pretty wide. A hollow-body guitar doesn’t do too well in such varied situations so I started using a Strat 10 years ago. I model my sound on a Steinway piano - clear and not too dark, yet warm. The Strat’s longer scale length provides a strong and clear sound in the bass register. Due to its intonation, the Strat’s color/sound changes as you get further up the neck. Above the 15th fret on strings 3, 4, 5, and 6 you can get some really unique sounds.

On Inner Constellation I used my main axe, a 1997 Fender Custom Shop ’58 Stratocaster with Fat ‘50s pickups. It’s really worn in and plays great. This Strat has a Rock Maple neck, which is a dense and resonant wood. I use heavy D'Addario strings: .018P, .022P, .026W, .030, .038, .049. A maple neck is the only thing I've seen that will hold up under that tension. Because there is a lot of mass with the vibration, the heavy strings produce a fat tone. Forget about bending these! On this CD I didn’t use any effects. I just plugged the guitar straight into the amp.

The amp I used was a Mesa Boogie Mark 4 head with two cabinets: a Mesa Boogie 12” open-back cabinet with an EV 12L and a Mesa Boogie 12” closed-back cabinet with an EV 12L. The Mesa Boogie Mark 4 amplifier has a transparent and warm sound, which helps to produce a large 3-D image. I've been using them since 1986.

On the trio tracks I’m using a Gibson L-5 and an Ibanez acoustic. Each guitar has its own color and my response is unique to that instrument. This provokes a different response from the other musicians in contrast to when I am using the Fender Stratocaster.

If you are not familiar with the music of Bruce Eisenbeil, a wide sampling from previous recordings (Keep The Meter Running [2003, Nine Winds], Opium [2001, CIMP], Mural [1999, CIMP], and Nine Wings [1997, CIMP]) is available on the multimedia page of his website. Bear in mind, though, that while these samples provide a quick historical glimpse of Eisenbeil, they do not define the Eisenbeil of Inner Constellation with respect to either performance or composition.

Challenges and pleasures: turning the inside out

The 47-minute title track opener, "Inner Constellation," is engaging. It's essentially 27 sketches ranging in length from 0:19 to 5:55 in which six instruments connect the dots of an internal, metaphorical constellation. Each passage represents both a stopping-point star and a way station to its neighbor, with a variety of musical techniques, some rhythmic, some harmonic, some both, serving as the imaginary connecting line that gives the constellation its overall shape.

"Inner Constellation" is not an otherworldly tranquil meditation. It's an inward look that oscillates between order and chaos, consonance and dissonance, favoring honest reporting over empty pleasantry. The result is a very human experience. Truth be told, the individual stars of our internal universe are a strange mix that runs the gamut from ridiculous to sublime and back again, but, when seen from a distance, we detect (or impose) linear patterns that make some sense of the mess - identifiable constellations emerge.

Listen to the first 5:30 seconds of "Inner Constellation" that include these passages: Autumn Light (0:43); Elastic Horizon (1:38); Enter Fresh Juicy (0:57); Three Uninvited Guests (1:21); and a portion of Clinging Fire (actual length: 2:54 and no fade out).

Given the improvisational feel of what you've just heard (or are listening to), it's easy to lose sight of what the liner notes say about the title track: "'Inner Constellation' is a composed-through piece, recorded live in the studio without punch-ins or edits. [Emphasis added]"

"Inner Constellation" is not a free form, ad hoc improvisation, but a composed work that has a free form, ad hoc feel. But, this statement lacks an ingredient vital to the "Inner Constellation" recipe: While the music is composed, the score includes spaces in which the players are instructed to improvise.

Without access to the score, it would be difficult, if not impossible, for the average listener to know what's composed and what's notated, which raises an interesting challenge: Does it matter?

Improvisation versus composition: Should we care?

Consider the experience of listening to (as opposed to thinking or talking about) a mainstream jazz recording. We can usually guess what portions of the music are being improvised. But how truly spontaneous (improvised) is what we're hearing and would it matter to our ears if we found out later that in fact what we thought had been improvised was notated? Does it (should it) matter to the listener how the musician arrived at what's played? Aren't we only concerned with the quality of what we hear and not with how the player accomplished it? Do our ears award extra pleasure points based on whether what they hear is improvised versus composed? In fact, our ears alone have no way of knowing the difference.

When we hear a beautiful (and by beautiful the word "pretty" should not be assumed) line, the pleasure is immediate and not dependent on outside information. The initial listening pleasure is neither increased nor decreased depending on whether the line was the result of spontaneity or deliberate composition. Often, what poses as improvisation is music that's well planned or been precisely or closely played the same way on many previous occasions - the only thing keeping it from being considered traditional composition is the fact that it hasn't been scored. But, none of that matters to us as simple listeners.

That's not to say that improvisation is non-compositional, it's simply composition done on the spot. The important question is why compose on the spot as opposed to taking time to work out a musical statement? Is there a benefit to the listener? Though not necessarily, there can be, and "Inner Constellation" serves as a good example of how composition and improvisation can intersect to form a greater good.

The benefit of improvisation to the listener is a result of the benefit of improvisation to the player (and composer). In an ensemble setting, improvisation affords the player a chance to compose in relation and reaction to the other musicians in a way that would be impossible, or at least virtually impossible, to do sitting alone in a studio with pen (or mouse) in hand. Imagine composing 16 bars of variation to nothing but a click track and a written theme and chord progression. Whether you took your time or played it on the spot, what resulted would reflect no actual interaction with other players, would not, for example, be influenced or inspired by the rhythmic emphases or liberalities of a particular drummer or bassist. Musical dialog or conversation could only spring from the isolated composer's imagination. Some isolated composers have a wonderful imagination, but would we be better off if a solitary Coltrane had written out a solo to "Impressions" instead of composing on the spot in response to Tyner, Garrison and Jones?

If a group player takes a solo with total disregard to the other members of the ensemble, it doesn't matter to the listener if the soloist is playing something spontaneous, memorized, or previously notated. The solo will either fly or it won't. But, if the player is given room to improvise and what is played reflects an interaction between the player and the immediate circumstances, the resulting music owes much to the fact that it was improvised. Some musicians use that poignant feel of the moment to reach compositional heights.

Take another look at the score snippet reproduced above. The trumpeter is given space to improvise, but the score does not say trumpet solo. There is already a voice speaking, the violin. Wooley is free to disregard the violin, support its statement, oppose it, or speak in any way seen (felt) fit, but the important point is that Wooley can hardly help but react to it. Imagine the difference in compositional approach if Wooley had been tucked away in a studio with nothing but a click track and written score. Perhaps Wooley would have composed something elegant in the space provided, but it's certain that it would have been different from his live reaction. Whether a non-improvised, or let's say traditionally composed segment by Wooley would have been more pleasant to our ears we'll never know, but it's doubtful.

The potential benefit of in-the-moment composition (improvisation) helps answer another interesting issue: Why Eisenbeil provided the spaces for improvisation instead of writing those sections himself. Eisenbeil can handle multiple voices in a variety of interesting ways as demonstrated in the non-improvised majority of the piece, but allowing the players moments to freely react to the circumstance gives the piece a chance to discover colors that no one could predict or create in a vacuum. The fact that it's difficult, if not impossible, for our ears to detect what's scored and what's improvised says much about both composer and players: Eisenbeil knew when and the players knew how.

The seemingly unusual nature of "Inner Constellation"

Dissonance, atypical tonality, unstable rhythm, unpredictability, and similar elements combine to make "Inner Constellation," and Inner Constellation, a non-mainstream experience, and rightfully so: life is not a tranquil adventure. If we think of music as a non-verbal language that can explore aspects of experience that hide between the concrete cracks of words, we shouldn't expect, or want, to be constantly soothed. We depend on artists to have the courage to ferret out what hides between those cracks and tell the truth. Is your inner constellation free of dissonance, an element of chaos, unpredictability? Is everything crystal clear and harmonious? Honesty gives birth to (at the moment) non-traditional art forms and methods by compelling artists to search for more accurate ways to express their interpretations of experience. We've all had dissonant moments that we've yet to hear.

The score to "Inner Constellation" and a companion book of passage-by-passage notes by Eisenbeil will be available from his website. They are highly recommended. "Inner Constellation" makes use of several interesting compositional techniques, such as haiku, palindrome, and Fibonacci numbers. The score and companion notes definitely provide an enjoyable insight into the nature of this work.

Related Links
Bruce Eisenbeil
Bruce Eisenbeil on MySpace
Bruce Eisenbeil Sextet
Inner Constellation on Amazon.com

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