{"id":3402,"date":"2021-11-02T21:37:09","date_gmt":"2021-11-03T02:37:09","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/postgenre.org\/staging\/4567\/?p=3402"},"modified":"2021-11-02T21:40:37","modified_gmt":"2021-11-03T02:40:37","slug":"uesaka-crispell","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/postgenre.org\/staging\/4567\/uesaka-crispell\/","title":{"rendered":"Density and Space: A Conversation with Yuma Uesaka and Marilyn Crispell"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Since the 1970s, Marilyn Crispell has been a major figure in creative music, pushing the piano into new realms, whether her hands are on its keys or in the instrument itself. While Crispell has some beautiful solo, trio<\/a>, and quartet recordings to her name, it seems she has a particular affinity for the intimacy of a conversation between just two artists. This interest has led to some memorable duo recordings with other legends of the music, including Anthony Braxton, Joseph Jarman, and Gary Peacock. Or, more recently, collaborations with Tyshawn Sorey<\/a> and – in what this author believes to be one of the best releases of 2020- Angelica Sanchez<\/a>.\u00a0 The pianist continues this tradition with Streams<\/em> (Not Two, 2021) with saxophonist-clarinetist Yuma Uesaka.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Uesaka has not yet developed a career as impressive as the names mentioned above. But this comes far more from his age – he is only thirty – than his artistry; he has only a handful of albums to his credit, including last year\u2019s Ocelot<\/em> (577, 2020) with Cat Toren and Colin Hinton. One may find it odd for Crispell to go from working with some of the premier artists in the creative music scene to teaming up with an artist who is still fairly early in his career. But, as Crispell noted in our conversation, \u201cIt doesn\u2019t mean anything to [her]  if somebody is a newcomer\u2026it\u2019s really about who the person is and the music, you know?\u201d If Streams<\/em> is any indication, her perspective on this matter is wise. 

Like its namesake, Streams <\/em>can reflect a rapid flow of sounds one minute, and a slow and gentle trickle the next. Compositions readily pour into one another. Silence and space play a central role throughout. It is an album rich in detail and subtlety, the kind that demands the listener\u2019s attention. But, at the same time, perhaps guided by both artists\u2019 interests in meditation, it asks its audience to contemplate not just the music but many things larger than themselves. We sat down with both artists to discuss the process of making the album, its place alongside Crispell\u2019s other duo recordings, and its connection to poetry and Japanese court music. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

PostGenre: <\/strong>When was the first time you heard each other\u2019s music? <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yuma Uesaka: <\/strong>That\u2019s a good question. I\u2019ll start. Marilyn has a lot more output than I do so I\u2019m pretty sure the first time she heard me was when I had sent her my music.  <\/p><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Marilyn Crispell: <\/strong>That\u2019s right.  <\/p><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

YU:<\/strong> Overall, I found Marilyn through her recordings from the 1980s and 1990s. I think the first time I heard Marilyn\u2019s music was from her work with Anthony Braxton\u2019s quartet in the 1980s, specifically the Vancouver recording from 1989 [Vancouver Duets<\/em> (Music & Arts, 1989)].   <\/p><\/blockquote>\n\n\n

<\/div><\/div>
<\/div>
<\/div>
<\/div><\/div><\/div>