Live For Live Music presents
Everyone Orchestra ft. Steve Kimock, Bill Payne (Little Feat), Natalie Cressman (Trey Anastasio Band), Jeremy Salken (Big Gigantic), George Gekas (The Revivalists), Brian Moss (Spafford), Drew Sayers & Parris Fleming (The Motet), Nick Baum w/ Los Colognes
Fri, January 25, 2019
Doors: 8:00 pm / Show: 9:00 pmCervantes' Masterpiece Ballroom
$22 Advance / $25 Day of Show
This event is 16 and over
EVERYONE ORCHESTRA WILL FEATURE:
** Steve Kimock
** Bill Payne (Little Feat)
** Natalie Cressman (Trey Anastasio Band)
** Jeremy Salken (Big Gigantic)
** George Gekas (The Revivalists)
** Brian Moss (Spafford)
** And Many More!
** (Conducted by) Matt Butler
“The experience of playing with different musicians, improvising every night, and getting the crowd involved in ways that they can’t be at a regular show has provided an unparalleled live music experience,” said Butler.
Everyone Orchestra conductor/founder Matt Butler has taken its participants, both on stage and off, on improvisational journeys with the most diverse of lineups at festivals, theaters and philanthropic events both nationally and internationally. A laundry list of hundreds of musicians, dancers, singers, guest conductors and community organizations have embraced the experience of EO in single shots of musical adrenaline to the soul. Tuning in to his energy, the band and audience utilize The Conductor as their pivot to the set mood of each passing jam as he communicates with the musicians using hand signs, whiteboard and assorted mime suggestions.
The list of Everyone Orchestra participants is an increasingly wide and intercontinental group including members of the Grateful Dead, Phish, The Allman Brothers Band, Furthur, Widespread Panic, Ratdog, Gov't Mule, Ween, String Cheese Incident, The Meters, Umphrey's McGee, The Disco Biscuits, Big Gigantic, Moe., Yonder Mountain String Band, Thievery Corporation, Trey Anastasio Band, JRAD, Lotus, Galactic, Soulive, Leftover Salmon, Turkuaz, The Revivalists, Twiddle, Dopapod, The New Mastersounds, The Punch Brothers, Dumpstaphunk, Lettuce, The Infamous Stringdusters, Railroad Earth, ALO, The Motet, and many more. EO also counts Tuvan throat singers, live painters, dancers, chanters, choirs, hula hoopers, firespinners, jugglers, stiltwalkers, storytellers, a presidential candidate and hundreds of others among a growing legion of participating performers.
Marching clearly into uncharted territory, Everyone Orchestra balances the challenges of live group improvisation with triumphant tension and release conduits of music which head deep into the soul. This unique collaborative of performance deeply encourages and requires audience interaction. The edge of your seat enthusiasm for what is next is the fuel behind the continuous musical experiment of Everyone Orchestra.
One of the highest and rarest aspirations in popular music is to reach for the transcendental, to access the spirit. On the third album “The Wave” by Nashville based Los Colognes, they succeed just this- in breaking through the conﬁnes of everyday pop song lyricism to tell a sort of holistic story. It’s not a concept piece, but it’s a brooding and still joyful song cycle ﬁlled with philosophical rumination, effortless hooks, inspiring musicianship, and expansive arrangements. It’s an album perfectly suited of the current zeitgeist of unease and hope.
“The Wave” is an album about archetypes and about the everyday. There are illusions to the Great Flood, to Plato’s Cave, to Poe, to the hero’s quest so iconically deﬁned by Joseph Campbell. There are recurring metaphors about the water, about the vastness of the ocean and the delicate balance between riding the wave and being pulled under. There is struggle, there is dread, there is hope, there is ultimately the knowledge only gained by a journey. It’s an album about attempting to gain acceptance with the ﬂow of adulthood, life in the music business, the changing awareness that only time and maturity can hand to someone.
Guitarist/singer Jay Rutherford opines in the album’s initial single , “Flying Apart" Nobody believed/We’re all just hoping/Floating down streams”. It’s a song that repeatedly invokes the wave metaphor of the album’s title while churning through its own sonic sea of shimmering keyboards and guitars anchored by drummer Aaron Mortenson. The music evokes any of the best moments of late seventies or mid eighties FM radio while never being weighed down by the specter of inﬂuence. Los Colognes are a young band who have managed to forge their own sound while channeling the best sonic worlds of the decades past. Unlike the live approach used to record the group’s previous records, “The Wave” was built from the ground up so to speak and with attention to each track, each part. There is a certain economy of space in the songs that feels deliberate while never ceasing to be warm and inclusive. Guitar and keyboard lines drift off each other in between lyrical exchanges while Mortenson propels the beat, sometimes meditative, sometimes driving. Each song passes into another with a thoughtful pause- a passing keyboard chord, a drone, a bit of noise, a breath before the next reﬂection. Like any fully realized album, there is a cyclical wholeness to it that beckons the listener not just to hear it in its entirety from the outset, but to hit ‘play’ again or lift the needle as soon as the last chord of “Can You Remember?” subsides. Rutherford sings on “Can You Remember?” - ‘When you were young/there was a ﬂood/ almost drowned’, but with the understanding that the journey didn’t end in tragedy, we didn’t drown, we are still navigating the waters and with new perspective. The journey to ﬁnish the recording of “The Wave” was its own quest of sorts for Rutherford and Mortenson, a more deliberate process of creation and craft that shows a band becoming fully aware of its voice and its vision. As current events in the world breed anxiety and unease, as the accelerating paces of the hyper information age make it yet harder to deliver contemplative messages in the arts, and as we all struggle to accept the uncertainty and mystique of ‘living in the moment’, Los Colognes have given us a singular collection of quietly anthemic tunes, held together by philosophical reﬂection and damn ﬁne rock and roll chops. The Wave is coming. Written by William Tyler - Merge Records
His variegated brand of guitar, alternately subdued and vibrant, defies easy categorization. At times prog rock/jazz-inflected and at others gypsy-straightaway, his crystal clear tone has been captivating audiences for more than thirty years.
Kimock co-founded the Jazz/Rock fusion band Zero in the 80’s, KVHW in the 90’s and now tours under his own name. He is widely embraced by fans as one who carries the free-form torch of improvisation, through an extensive catalog of original material in his own bands, as well as through live performances with so many esteemed musicians. Kimock has performed alongside the likes of Bruce Hornsby (and can be heard on two of Hornsby’s releases), John Cipollina Jerry Garcia and all members of the Grateful Dead, as well as Peter Frampton, Bonnie Raitt, The Allman Brothers, Buddy Miles, Buddy Cage, Screamin’ Jay Hawkins, Bobby Vega, Martin Fierro , Joe Satriani, Baaba Maal, Angelique Kidjo, Elvin Bishop, George Porter Jr., Steve Winwood, Derek Trucks, Ivan Neville, Grace Slick, Papa John Creach, Norton Buffalo, Amos Garrett, Warren Haynes, Hadi Al Sadoon, Stephen Perkins, Nicky Hopkins, Freddie Roulette, and many more.
A relentless innovator as well as player, Kimock's focus leads to guitar & amp craftsmanship. Over the past few years, he collaborated on a series of highly collected custom Two-Rock “Kimock Amplifiers” as well as a coveted ergonomic Scott Walker brand guitar - built in stereo.
His passion and devotion to performing live improvisation is matchless, and his unparalleled ability to embrace and capture a theater musically is the stuff of legends.
“Unconventional. Experimental. It's sort of the Steve Kimock way.” – CNN, 2009
The environmental writer Barry Lopez, in his book, “Arctic Dreams,” suggests we are products of where we were born. I was born in Waco, Texas, the start of the Hill Country that extends southward past Austin. It is a world of vistas, rivers, lakes, bluebonnets, rattlesnakes, wind, huge skies filled with thunderheads and lightning (I have sat mesmerized for hours watching the skies erupt), warm rain in the summer, those same tumultuous skies now clear with melting hot temperatures and energy draining humidity, or the freezing cold brought in with sudden intensity by a “Blue Norther” (a cold weather front brought sweeping down from Canada), which can bring temperatures cascading from 90 degrees down to a mind numbing 20 degrees in a shockingly short period of time, creating very dangerous conditions. It is a land of contrasts and contradictions. It’s people are, too. My parents moved to California, when I was two. My dad built a house in the hills. We had big picture windows in the kitchen and the living room which afforded a tremendous view of the small city of Ventura, the Pacific Ocean and the Channel Islands, an easy place to daydream watching beautiful sunsets; the rare lightning storms out on the ocean; the huge waves that pounded the coastline in the winter; the fog that would roll in the morning and again in the late afternoon; seeing shapes in the huge clouds and the shadows they would create on the ground or on the water; the way the ocean would change colors from gun metal gray to different shades of blue and green, white capped or smooth as glass. There were days when looking out at the island of Santa Cruz (the largest in the chain, some twenty miles away), I felt as if it were close enough to swim to. The contours of the island were in vivid detail, the sky from just above the horizon turning from a soft yellow to aqua marine to a powder blue to deep royal blue, the ocean shimmering from a light wind in the late afternoon sun, a beautiful greenish blue; transitory flamingo pink, light green, and white wispy clouds, as if painted in feathery strokes by an unseen hand, graced the sky. There were countless days like this over the ten years or so I lived in the house my father and his friends from Texas built. The experience gave me a sense of the many ways light affects an object, bringing out or obscuring detail. Every day I witnessed different shades and nuance. I would carry those visual images to the piano in the living room and play what I saw (or at least try to). My audience was myself, my parents, and whatever neighbors I thought might be listening in.
My use of “visualization” began there, leading to my discovery and embracing the art of improvisation.
Art is the ultimate embrace of our being human, with all its repercussions. But it also allows us to transcend the familiar terrain and investigate worlds, relationships, experiences, we can only dream of, and live, though fleetingly, as the gods of our own realm.
My introduction to playing piano started with my mother sitting me on her knee and teaching me to play “Vaya Con Dios” on an old upright in the basement. Through her interpretation of the sheet music I took my first foray into the world of playing piano. Not long afterward, I began taking piano lessons from Ruth Newman. I was five or six. Ruth encouraged me to play by ear but told my mother she would make sure I could read music. That two-track approach has shaped my views of artistic expression; specifically how I combine the resources of intuition, a vivid imagination amidst a platform of study.
Over the years my expression has come through in my music, my writing, my poetry, and as of the last few years, my photography. The creative tools I incorporate: trusting the instincts of exploration, commitment and determination, contribution, discipline, and a belief that hard work will pay off if intelligently applied, serve as guideposts in how I arrive at my choices and decisions. I also don’t want to downplay the aspect of having fun. The worst we can do, as artists, is acquiesce to conventions that tie our hands. If art is the reflection of society, then we owe it to ourselves not only to be aware of what we are doing but why we are doing it. I am classically trained as a musician. I use that training to elevate my artistic voice, not to restrict it. Freedom of thought, and the attendant ideas spawned from creative thinking, is paramount not only to growth and development but critical to our ability to think through the myriad challenges, either self imposed or by restrictive circumstances. Being inquisitive is the key to keep from becoming stagnant.
Another way to say it is I am not a purist. And though I respect those that use the “rules” of any given art to apply their lens to it, I confess I don’t use rules as a methodology to dictate my creative process. Igor Stravinsky once said, “I don’t create because I want to, but because I have to.”
I can thank my son Evan for my taking the leap into photography. A few years ago I was in the process of finishing my first solo cd, ”Cielo Norte,” an instrumental album performed on various keyboards in my music room in Los Angeles, and, later, at my house in Montana. I happened to be viewing some photos on his computer. I asked who had taken them; he said that most were his. I was amazed at the quality of the photos. I suggested that he take some photos of me for my project. Armed with a 3 pixel point-and-shoot camera, Evan and I took a hike into Corral Canyon, up the coast from Malibu. During the shoot I asked him to show me how the camera worked. I took a few shots with it, bought my own camera a few weeks later, and have been hooked ever since.
My approach to photography is much like my approach to music. It is eclectic, born of myriad influences. The Marx Brothers movie, “A Night At The Opera,” cast the same spell on me musically as well as visually, for example. Ansel Adams’ photo, “Moonrise, Hernandez, New Mexico, 1941,” reflects the complexities of life, death, beauty, sadness, continuance, the solitude and enormity of the west, and above all, our relationship with nature. A song I wrote in 1980, “Gringo,” especially the instrumental section, was undoubtedly influenced by that photo, as well as those of Edward Weston, the movies of John Ford, and the many times I traveled back and forth with my family on trips to west and central Texas from the coastal community of Ventura, California.
Long before I became a photographer, I had been storing images in my head. I applied the same tenacity to learning how to take photos, work on them, print them, in the same fashion I learned music. I’ve also received great guidance from several friends along the way. Jack Spencer, a truly amazing photographer, has been my mentor. Jack has helped me pare down the excess of technical mélange in how I work on my photos and prepare them for print. His advice has been simple but powerful and has immeasurably broadened my creative vocabulary. In the beginning (before I met Jack), and before becoming overwhelmed by it all, I simply picked up the camera and starting taking pictures. I realized that it was merely a matter of my seeking out those images that had over a lifetime defined my tastes. Those tastes, be it in music, photography, art, literature, movies, politics, architecture, food, or just about anything, continue to expand as a result of my predisposition to investigate the connection between things, along with being blessed with good friends and family.
Tracing Footsteps: A Journal of Home and the Road is the way I describe my journey in photography. It houses my philosophy of combining a host of influences: black & white, color, textured themes, landscape, people, photojournalism—my time travel, literally--all under one roof.
I have been in rock and roll bands since age 15. I joined Little Feat in 1969, and am still traveling and playing music in the band. I spend a good deal of my time on the road. When I land, so to speak, it is in Montana, with the Yellowstone River at the front of my property. One of the gifts that photography has given me is help in remembering where I’ve been. Some years ago I wrote for a Japanese publication, Player Magazine. I provided them with the following piece to illustrate my life as an artist on the road:
There is an insanity to the road. It is a world within a world, with a tempo parallel to a world alternately asleep and awake, events taking shape on either side of the partition, viewed when the need arises to connect the memory of life outside the road. It is a protective environment enriched or depleted by those one encounters, the amount of sleep one gets, the quality of food, conversation, companionship. The tether of communication to loved ones or otherwise is chosen or interrupted by landing in one place long enough to establish a base, well, perhaps that is changing with cell phone mania, ping pong talk talk, daily ministrations, a time to reflect, a time to forget, a time to just witness the miles that flow by day after day into night into day again: Fort Worth, Little Rock, Biloxi, Atlanta, the destination important or not depending on the shape you put on it.
Memory is the victim.
Where were you last week? yesterday? a year ago? ten years ago? where will you be next week? The connections are food, friends, situations, while the blur of riding the white line fogs our sense of direction-where simple cloud cover for days at a time can leave one completely disoriented-and then it all changes from the disparity to the all-too-familiar monotony and security blanket of main street, a whitewash of homogenization, a cracker barrel mind set, knowing where the bathroom is, satellite tv, all making the road a linear proposition.
There is an insanity to the road.
Taking refuge from the clean slate every time the door closes on a hotel room, the rear view mirror reflecting miles and dreams already encountered and submitted to the past, the future is what lies ahead, the clean slate a powerful reminder of the strength of a bipolar redemption or lassitude, the power of late night solitude, a look back and forward and back again until the lines blur like the ones outside this metal can rolling down the hi-way at 80 mph, where destination and purpose intertwine and physical features of streets, countryside, a small Midwest town in autumn during a full moon-the cool night air incredibly crisp and clean, a blazing hot day in the southwest where no amount of shade can protect one from the heat, the connection between land and purpose, actions, decisions, leaving memory the ultimate repository of all things accomplished or intended, all with gradations of importance attached.
The smell of diesel fuel is my first memory from a county fair in the coastal community of Ventura, California-one of the recipients of Father Juniperro Serra’s missions strung up and down the coast-I have long given up wondering about the destiny of that encounter at the age of three.
The road was there all along and will be there long after all of us are gone, dust and ashes to the wind, the dream taken to the next level, past the partitions of this world and our understanding.
We’re not in Kansas anymore.
(notes made somewhere between Kansas City, Kansas and Fort Worth, Texas, in the wee hours of the morning, May 8, 2000 on the bus with Little Feat)
These are tough times, heartbreaking and dangerous.
My prayer is for peace. My prayer is for compassion to those in need.
The arts are invaluable to our sense of humanity and our compass to tolerance and understanding.
Without them we are lost.
My foundation as an artist is the belief in:
... the nobleness of the arts and our effort as artists...writers...teachers...conveyors of thought, is to be mindful of the challenge and the importance of what we do. The essence of our efforts, I believe, is to illuminate the path of a measured truth, and to reflect and mirror that truth through the veil of our craft, taking aim at ourselves, our society, our world, with utmost respect to the awe and mystery of life, and with the essential focus on what was, what is, and perh
Cressman has spent much of the last four years touring the jam band circuit with Phish's Trey Anastasio, while also performing with jazz luminaries Nicholas Payton, Wycliffe Gordon, and Peter Apfelbaum. Those varied experiences are reflected on her gorgeous second release, Turn the Sea. Anastasio calls the album "a beacon of light in an increasingly cold and mechanized era of music. Natalie is standing on the precipice of an incredible life in music, and if this album is any indication of where she's headed, then I'll be listening every step of the way."
Inspired in part by those bandleaders' boundary-blurring approaches, Turn the Sea reveals a sound that's utterly uncategorizable but instantly accessible, one that belies but is also a product of Cressman's youth. "I want to make music that my own generation can respond to," Cressman says. "I would really love for anyone to listen to my music and find something to relate to. "
The disc features a stellar eight-piece band, largely culled from Cressman's Bay Area peers: trumpeter Ivan Rosenberg, flutist and clarinetist Steven Lugerner, saxophonist James Casey, keyboardist Samora Pinderhughes, guitarist Gabe Schneider, bassist Jonathan Stein, and drummer Michael Mitchell join the bandleader, who sings and plays trombone.
Cressman was raised in San Francisco by parents who guaranteed she would be constantly surrounded by music. Her mother, Sandy Cressman, is a jazz vocalist who immersed herself deeply into the traditions of Brazilian music; her father, Jeff Cressman, is a recording engineer, trombonist, and longtime member of Santana. Natalie quite naturally began studying trombone with her father, but set out to be a dancer rather than a musician. She was an aspiring ballet dancer until her junior year of high school, when an injury set her on a different path. Once she set her sights on a career in music, her parents provided not only role models but active assistance, helping to provide her with some of her earliest opportunities. "Seeing how inspired and passionate my parents were about what they were doing lit a fire in me once I decided to go for music," Cressman recalls.
Her parents provided entrée to a number of enviable opportunities, but Cressman's own prodigious gifts continued to merit her presence in any number of high-profile settings. She soon found herself playing salsa with Uruguayan percussionist Edgardo Cambon e Orquesta Candela, Latin Jazz with Pete Escovedo's Latin Jazz Orchestra, world music with Jai Uttal and the Pagan Love Orchestra, and globally-inspired avant-garde jazz with multi-instrumentalist Peter Apfelbaum, a family friend who became a key mentor. Cressman continues to work with Apfelbaum in his ensembles, The New York Hieroglyphics and Sparkler.
Cressman switched coasts in 2009 to study at the Manhattan School of Music, and the following year was enlisted by jam band pioneer Trey Anastasio for his touring band. "I first met Natalie when she was 18, and I was instantly floored by how melodically and naturally she played and sang," Anastasio says. "Natalie is the rarest of musicians. Born into a musical family and raised in a home filled with the sounds of Brazilian music, jazz and Afro- Cuban rhythms, she is seeping with innate musicality. Musicality is in her DNA."
Following her jazz-oriented debut, Unfolding, with the more song-based Turn the Sea was at least partially a result of her tenure with Anastasio, Cressman says. "Trey always wants to include the audience, but he doesn't dumb down his music to do it. I find myself between two worlds with the music that I'm writing; it's not bread and butter jazz but it's not wholly anything else either." It would be equally difficult to pinpoint Cressman's music, and at the same time equally hard to resist its allure.
The album's title track marries her silken voice and lyrical trombone with a surging rhythm evocative of waves crashing and receding; "Fortune's Fool" is a melancholy love song propelled by a somber, Middle Eastern- inflected pulse; "New Moon" sets enigmatic lyrics to a soulful, flute and Rhodes-driven groove which segues into a soaring chorus that draws on West African rhythms. The album ends with a remix of opening track "Turn the Sea," courtesy of the band's bassist in his electronica- producer guise of JNTHN STEIN. The track hints at yet more future directions for the adventurous Cressman, while making literal the song's message of risk-taking. "It's a good bookend," she says, "coming back to where you began but in a totally different place."
Cervantes' Masterpiece Ballroom
2637 Welton Street
Denver, CO, 80205