{"id":6584,"date":"2023-08-26T12:41:52","date_gmt":"2023-08-26T17:41:52","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/postgenre.org\/staging\/4567\/?p=6584"},"modified":"2023-08-29T08:47:04","modified_gmt":"2023-08-29T13:47:04","slug":"darius-jones-fluxkit-vancouver","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/postgenre.org\/staging\/4567\/darius-jones-fluxkit-vancouver\/","title":{"rendered":"Process Prevails: A Conversation with Darius Jones on ‘FluXkit Vancouver (i\u0336t\u0336s suite but sacred)’"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

What is music? What is art? How is art experienced aurally connected to its visual manifestations? To most people, these are seemingly answerable inquiries. But when pressed, they struggle to provide concrete responses. It is in this ineffable gray area that Fluxus thrives. Derived from the Latin word for \u201cflowing\u201d, Fluxus is a collection of artists that took a broad perspective on art to create entirely new forms, often multidisciplinary ones. As its founder, George Macinuas, put it, Fluxus aimed to \u201cpromote a revolutionary flood and tide in art, promote living art, anti-art.\u201d Though seen by some as an artist community that existed solely during the 1960s and 1970s, Darius Jones\u2019 fLuXkit Vancouver (i\u0336t\u0336s suite but sacred)<\/em> (Northern Spy\/WE JAZZ, 2023) confirms the vitality of its ethos.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Fluxus artists sought works that defied category. But a few commonalities often emerge from their output – a sense of humor, the thought that art exists everywhere, and the minimization of perceptions of lines between different artistic forms. Against this backdrop, one significant platform was the fluxkit, a collection of objects in a case designed to serve as a mini Fluxus museum. But one similarity among Fluxus work stands out the most. Heavily inspired by John Cage\u2019s perceptions of musical indeterminacy and his belief that one should create art without knowing its end, Fluxus understated the end product in favor of the creative process undertaken to reach it. Like the attach\u00e9 case housing a fluxkit, Jones\u2019 latest work encapsulates it all. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Often on fLuXkit,<\/em> the listener receives pieces of a picture but not the full portrait, as if allowed to see brief scenes of a dramatic production but not the whole show. There is an urgency to \u201cFluxus V5T 1S1\u201d portrayed by the bluesy cries of Jones\u2019 horn above a foreboding cello, as if the group is concerned about an impending attack. But left undisclosed is the origin of concern. Midway through the movement, the ensemble moves into a high-volume and high-intensity fury, questioning who is speaking – the aggrieved or the instigator. Perhaps they are one and the same with the roles left open to interpretation.
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Jumping to \u201cRainbow\u201d, there is a moment, at about the 8:54 mark, where behind a slow bass solo lies what sounds like the horn from a car being locked. Is this an error that escaped production or an intentional subtle nod to Fluxus\u2019 insistence on the integration of art into life? Perhaps the absence of a clear answer to that question is the entire point in an album dedicated to works of uncertainty.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The mysteries well emphasize that the listener should not seek a preset destination but, instead, enjoy the voyage. However, that is not to say matters remain wholly unresolved by the end. The closer, \u201cDamon and Pythias\u201d is shockingly beautiful at times. Named after the two-century-old structure that houses Western Front, the multidisciplinary artist-run center that sponsored Jones\u2019 Fluxus project, one may expect somewhat antiquated sounds given the building\u2019s vintage. Nothing could be further from the truth. Horn articulation and sputtering strings often sound like a broken electronic device – perhaps another reference to the extra-musical world – before it creates an air of mystery. Cellist Peggy Lee\u2019s gorgeously folksy motif fills the void and sets the stage for the leader\u2019s incredibly moving closing solo. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ultimately, the saxophonist\u2019s four-movement suite is compellingly unpredictable. It is not music one seeks for a calm and relaxing Sunday afternoon drive. But for those who wish to be pushed and challenged, this recording does it in spades. We sat down with the effusively creative Jones – Downbeat\u2019s 2019 Annual Critics Poll winner for Rising Star on Alto Saxophone – to discuss the fluxkit he left for listeners to experience.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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PostGenre: How did you first learn about Fluxus, and what draws you to it?<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Darius Jones: I first became aware of Fluxus through John Cage. I’m a big fan of Cage’s philosophies and his pieces where he approached the idea of improvisation by emphasizing chance. He built these amazing pieces which focused on the process more than the outcome. They are captivating. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Fluxus was born in New York, but it affected the whole artistic world, including the music world. I did a residency at Western Front, which was built because of Fluxus and the inspiration they drew from the people involved in it. I also studied Black Mountain College, another place like Western Front, but in North Carolina. At Black Mountain, they were creating a utopian world where all arts were combined. Their focus was on creating work from that space of questioning what is music, what is art, and what is a gallery. Yoko Ono’s work has also been tied to Fluxus as well. She made some very cool pieces that have inspired me. In general, I found those types of things where you question the role of art fascinating. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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