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A Damon Short Discography
by Derek Taylor
September 2001
Damon Short has been a stalwart presence on the Chicago jazz scene
for decades. A percussionist possessing ears finely attuned to jazz
in its many forms and permutations he also harbors abiding interests
in classical and 'world' music systems. Since the early 1990s he's
also curated a website designed not only to describe his own musical
pursuits, but those of other musicians he admires as well. Most notable
among these additional entries are engrossing essays on Walt Dickerson
and Cecil Taylor.
Gigging actively in various aggregations over the years Short's thankfully
found the resources and time to record. In early 2001 he started his
own CDR label Depth Perception in an effort to circulate archival
material to a much wider audience. The brief capsule reviews that
follow are intended as a primer into his ever-growing discography
and hopefully prompt reader interest in investigating the man and
his various past and ongoing projects out.
 Clearing
the cobwebs from some of Short's earliest extant recordings the two-disc
Acme Monastery offers a revealing entry point into the drummer's
early aesthetic. He had only been on the Windy City scene several
months at the time of the session's waxing, but Short parlayed the
short interim into a chance to form a group of surprising cohesion
and consistency. Taking the Steve Lacy-Roswell Rudd School Days Quartet
of the early 1960s as their principal stylistic template and appropriating
a similar songbook of Monk tunes the quintet, known under the collective
moniker Worry Later (another Monk anthem), set about trying to garner
an audience. Judging from the quality of the music on hand it's hard
to imagine the reception they received being anything less than supportive.
Opening things up in the absence of a piano, Freeman's vibes lend
an atmosphere of autonomy from strict chordal constraints while still
tethering a strong melodic center. Short deftly moves from firm but
flexible accompaniment to the occasional solo all the while keeping
a varied rhythmic pulse in conjunction with Steele's lightly amplified
strings. As the frontline Burdelik and Weiser make a good match and
the saxophonist in particular manages absorbing solos on nearly all
of the tracks. His spiraling Dolphy-like statement on "Ascendant",
is one of the many that test melodic boundaries while remaining true
to the structural integrity of Short's arrangements. Appropriately
enough Steele also takes a substantial amount of space on this Jimmy
Garrison penned tune paving a path that Short adds further rhythmic
cobbles to during a set-ending solo.
Interestingly enough the arrangements are where the set falls somewhat
shy of an unmitigated success. Too often the tracks slip into the
predictability and safety of heads-solos successions. Curiously it's
on the two originals "Cycle Times Two", formulated by fellow musician
Tom Cosh, and Short's own "Boo-Jee" where the band seems to take the
most chances and to greatest effect. In sum and as the cardinal entry
in Short's discography the albums hold up comparatively well against
their future brethren and both discs hint invitingly at the further
freedoms he would later explore. Sadly the quintet's longevity was
short-lived as Short and Freeman soon skipped town effectively ending
the band.
 Jumping
ahead nearly a decade All of the Above, Short's debut on the
Chicago-based Southport label, is an ambitious enterprise filled with
bravely realized ideas that expand creatively on his previous work.
Bassist Kohut is the only holdover from the earlier ensemble and new
associates Scea and Smoker lend a decidedly different sound to the
drummer's compositions. "Then As Now" works much like set of spiritual
calisthenics with Scea tracing an Ayler-like vibrato on tenor and
the group blowing with almost sanctified seriousness across a folk-tinged
melody. Yanda's shimmering chords contrast with Smoker's smear-laden
growls and the piece serves as a scintillating introduction to Short's
freshly minted lineup. Scea's spiraling flute lines push the group
on the intriguingly titled "Melting Crystals" dissolving into a flamboyant
muted bombardment from Smoker's brass. Scripting on the fly from behind
his kit Short's brushes flutter atop his skins and metals creating
a changing backdrop for each of his partners to ruminate against and
his own solo retains his usual blend of restraint and stability. Though
he cites Buddy Rich as an early influence in the detailed liner notes
it's difficult to imagine Short ever resorting to easy bombast to
make a point.
Scea's versatile flute also advances the guiding theme on "Refractions"
slicing through a verdant hedge of crosshatched lines cultivated by
his partners. His throaty bass clarinet on the ostinato-forwarded
"Shards" is similarly adept at cutting to the melodic chase while
Smoker's rambunctious slurs favor a more effusive bent. Kohut vamps
diligently, playing the role of anchor, but also incorporating creative
stops that offset several segments toward the piece's close where
the action seems to stagnate a shade.
The obvious opus of the date is the concluding title suite. A multi-sectional
work broken into a series of harmonic and melodic variants on a twelve-tone
row, the piece showcases Short's affection for classical forms in
tandem with jazz-based improvisation. Schultz and Newell join the
ranks bolstering the group to sextet size, while Yanda sits out and
the band benefit's from the expanded instrument palette. Kohut's agile
pizzicato structures are an early draw that eventually defers to unison
horn riffing and volatile breaks from Short. Over the suite's industrious
duration the band assembles and disbands a myriad of component groupings
including a particularly engrossing duet interlude for Smoker and
Short. The sextet resumes at full muster for the finale tying up the
tangle of loose ends unraveled by the various improvisations into
a satisfying theme denouement.
 Third
Prize finds Short surrounded by yet another cadre of colleagues,
but his new cast of players ends up just as agreeable as its predecessors.
According to the sketchy liners the session tape was originally submitted
as an entry in a "Best of Chicago" competition sponsored jointly by
a local beverage company and a 'smooth jazz' radio station eventually
earning the accolade of the title much to the surprise of the band.
Comprised completely of originals the program is a potpourri of styles
ranging from early New Orleans polyphony to freewheeling harmelodics,
touching down with healthy strains of bop and modal elements along
the way. Shultz's bass trumpet, a rare jazz voice by any estimation,
adds a weighty edge to the horn section in tandem with Tuttle and
Beer, but without deadening the group's fully articulated melodic
thrust. His fluid solo on "917" flirts with trombone-like unctuousness
dissipating into intricately plucked improvisation from Kohut. Tuttle's
crisper tone contrasts favorably dealing more often in fast darting
phrases and injecting both color and tonal breadth through a small
arsenal of reeds. Short sounds more inspired in these multifaceted
surroundings, varying his patterns wildly and never resorting to rote
time-keeping.
Generously portioned the compositions leave plenty of room for solo
and communal ingenuity. Highlights to my ears include the gradual
smoky groove of "Anesthesiology" advanced by the lurching throb of
Kohut's bass and the leader's effervescent cymbal accents, and the
subtle complexities of the group's rundown of the Ducal warhorse "Mood
Indigo". Short stays the course throughout, delivering fill in the
blank flourishes and steady pulse fortifications whenever the music
seems on the verge of drifting. His fine-spun stick work is a marvel
of sensuous strength. If there's a downside to the disc it manifests
in the overall length of the set, which clocks in at well over an
hour. Several of the pieces could have been trimmed of some fat, but
as they stand the tracks are well stocked with bountiful and creative
interplay.
 Aside
from a slight swelling in personnel with the augmentation of John
McLean's guitar, and the return of Burdelik in place of Tuttle, the
group on Airplay retains the same philosophy and configuration
of Short's earlier ensembles. As with past albums the disc's title
again signifies a secondary meaning, this time couched in the aspiration
every band has of achieving radio rotation. Short is the sole composer
and each of his pieces yields plenteous space for extended solo improvisation.
Burdelik in particular revels in the increased elbowroom wasting no
time in blowing the melodic hinges off the opening "Breakup". Rolling
out florid sheets of sound his solo inspires a series of chases between
Beer and Schultz. Short abstains from joining in the heated energy
release keeping an even keel from his kit while offering a measured
barrage of accents. Kohut's ensuing solo completely derails the piece's
momentum, but in a manner fully supported by the horns, which riff
murkily around him.
Schizophrenic variations of the disc's title track paint agnate, but
ultimately divergent portraits, the first centering on Schultz and
Burdelik (on soprano) and the second featuring Beer with a broad range
of embellishments from McLean. Short delivers streamlined statements
on each one that uncannily balance propulsion with restraint. His
exposition on "Butterfly Decoy" is similarly coded, but delivered
with what sounds like hands or heavy mallets. McLean's fretwork is
a curious blend of plectrum-sounded lines and strange tone-shifted
pops and sputters, but in either guise his creations always seem to
fit snugly into the framework of the interplay.
"Fly in the Ointment" builds off an underlying rhythmic tension conveyed
through Short's quiet, but bustling traps, but loses some steam over
its long duration. Burdelik's frothy alto workout during the track's
first half exudes a healthy virility, but McLean's string twisting
follow-up, awash in luminous echo proves less decisive. Coming full
circle with "Anthem" the sextet treads emotive straits akin to those
on the disc's opener starting slowly, but gaining force. Burdelik
doesn't seem to want it to end and burns through a solo on tenor that
notches a new peak for him in terms of creative ebullience.
 Another
of Short's working ensembles, the quartet featured on Removable
Media has several of the usual suspects including Scea and Shultz.
Kupersmith is the new recruit and his at times stringent and methodical
style lends appreciable tension to the band. Programmatically the
music is all over the map, ranging from the rampant Dolphy references
of "Back From Lunch" to the unapologetic bebop freneticism of the
closing "Bullets". Scea and Shultz make for a boisterous frontline
jousting and complimenting one another as the collective compass mandates.
The saxophonist's corkscrew circular breathing on the opening "Toll
Free" is one example eliciting burnished exhortations from Shultz
and inciting Kupersmith into a bout of strenuous string sawing.
The title track is completely different in sentiment cycling through
airy, almost balladic patterns floated by Scea's flute and Schultz's
rounded smears that inoculate the ears for the impending somber abstraction
of "Figure 37". Scea's scabrous tenor serrates the final minutes of
the piece worrying a frayed vertical phrase to the point of near implosion.
Shultz seems similarly agitated snorting and scuffling in the lowest
registers of his brass. The kinks are fully ironed out on the spacious
"Song Not Heard", a piece that experiments with Eastern modalities
and offers a chance to hear Scea's bass clarinet trade in a contemplative
colloquy with Shultz's muted brass. Short's rolling patterns work
in concert with Kuppersmith's resonating bow to further elevate the
meditative mood. Scea's switch to alternately lyrical and screaming
flute delivers the final clincher.
 Recorded
just one day after the quartet session the meeting of Short and Scea
in a duo setting on Balance of Power is a logical outgrowth
of their ensemble time together. Their years of mutually supportive
association virtually mandate a highly compatible end product. Both
men bring a wide range of instruments to the bargaining table and
it's this restless variety from track to track matched with a potent
creative camaraderie that makes this date such a success. All but
two of the pieces are spontaneous improvisations and absence of premeditation
works in the pair's favor. Track lengths are excised down to almost
universally concise dimensions and virtually every possible combination
of instrumental constituents is attempted over the span of the fourteen
improvisations.
Out of necessity the music resides more in the impressionist side
of the spectrum with familiar melodic and rhythmic guideposts revealing
themselves only on occasion and the duo instead favoring freely associative
interaction. Scea makes frequent use of vocal effects in his sound
production, whispering, sputtering and shouting into his reeds and
flute sometimes with a ferocity that borders on the frightening. Short
gladly takes on the frequent role of colorist, inking and outlining
with sticks, mallets, bows and hands. The pieces that wed tenor saxophone
and drum kit, like "Impending Downpour" and the title track, are among
the most accessible of the program and their inclusion keeps matters
from moving irrevocably into the realm of the abstruse. The title
track, a post-Coltrane blowout that has Scea screaming into the altissimo
range and Short beating out a muscular commentary below him is just
the poultice needed for ears irritated by the uncompromising challenge
of the duo's more quixotic wanderings.
Also included are two vibraphone solos by Short, "2WD1" and "Wahzo
3", each one a micro-study in the instrument's tonal properties and
possibilities and a clear indication of the drummer's affection for
Walt Dickerson. Schulz makes a guest appearance on two cuts "MLC"
and "Drop That Name" extending the timbral parameters without out
compromising the careful balance between the principal actors in the
drama. Stacked against Short's previous outings this disc is an altogether
different animal. Demanding in its abstractionist tendencies and abandonment
of the usual underpinning architectures of his earlier work it suggests
that his musical mind is staunchly averse to catering to expectation.
As a milestone in a continuing career this project also points to
intriguing new directions for future excursions.
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