JOY Magazine (October 2000)

Interviewer: Tom Stracke

So Dan, you started out as a classical pianist. At what point did you decide to improvise?

I've improvised my whole life; it's just that before I went away to college, it was probably much more in a non-classically influenced way, I hadn't really studied formal classical music. But I had theory in high school; I had three years of theory. And I'd been taking piano since I was five, so I always played, but my improvisations were much more of a George Winston-esque type style. And once I went away to college, I learned a little bit more about modern composition, and I started checking out some more modern music, and I started sight-reading a ton of stuff.

What modern composers or improvisers first struck you the most when you went to college?

Well, I guess improvisers - there wasn't really many. Honestly, early on, before I went to college-college - because I went to community college for a year and a half when I first got out of high school. While I was there, I studied a little bit of jazz, because I wanted to learn about (its) harmonies and chord progressions and jazz theory and stuff, so I took a little bit of that. So I started improvising a little bit in that style, but I guess at that point, I was really into Ran Blake, believe it or not. I can't even say I was into him; it's just that I knew of him because I discovered this very weird album of his in the public library. I took it out because of the name, it was Ran Blake The Blue Potato or something like that. It was one of his first solo albums, and I found it in the library, took it home, thought it was really weird, very bizarre. But in the liner notes, it mentioned Ives and Cage and all these guys, so I started saying, well what are these guys about? And I started checking out a little bit of Ives.

So yeah, but early on it was either George Winston or Keith Emerson, for that matter. I will admit, there's that one Keith Emerson Piano Concerto on that Emerson Lake and Palmer Works album. Anyway, it's sort of modern; it's basically stacked fourths sounding like Hindemith, but whatever, it's there. So I heard modern harmony through that. And then (Paul) Bley, of course; I studied a little bit of Bley, listened to a lot of Bley. But once I went away to college, suddenly I heard "The Banshee" for the first time, and that just freaked me out, you know the Cowell piece. I heard that, and I heard Sonatas and Interludes by Cage. I heard the (Ives) Concord Sonata; my first teacher performed the Concord Sonata. So that was that, and I played a Tocatta by Prokofiev early on, and that influenced me a little bit, just how he wrote for the instrument.

But honestly, most of the influence I have as far as a player - I feel so cocky when I talk about myself! - comes from just reading scores. Because that's really what I did. Where I went for three and a half years, the library was two floors down, and I could take out as much music as I wanted. So on Saturdays, every now and then, I would take out a stack of stuff and just go sight-read. I wouldn't try to work on it, but I would just grab a chord here, see what this was and see what that was. And that's sort of how I began to learn - I started working some of those things that I would read, forms of them in my own playing. And that was how that sort of began, I guess.

What sorts of pieces would you sight-read?

There was a fair amount of Bartok. I remember reading the Bartok sonata. I read honestly a ton of Beethoven, just gobs of Beethoven. I performed a few sonatas when I was in college. I would check out, obviously, some Cage. Funny enough, there was actually a book of Ran Blake there. I worked on the Piston "Concertino," or something; it's like a small piece for piano and orchestra by Piston. And I loved it, so I used to play it. And I did a lot of accompanying, too, which is another whole side. I did a huge amount of accompanying. (Lovely wife) Anita once bought me a shirt that says, "No! I will not accompany you," because I always said yes to everybody. I never knew how to say no, so I would just go sight-read for lessons, although I was a horrible sight-reader at that time. Tons of Schubert, tons of Mozart arias. I accompanied this violin player on some Cage and some Arvo Part. So that's where I really came from. And I was also in jazz band at the time.

It's interesting that you were - just the composers you named to have sight-read, because a lot of them like Bartok and certainly Piston, are very contrapuntally organized in terms of the voices. And in your own improvisation, especially compared to a lot of other improvising pianists, it's very contrapuntal. Whereas a lot of other improvising pianists, particularly coming from a jazz side of things, don't really have that aspect of their playing, as much anyway.

I think that's true. That's something that's always fascinated me. I remember when I first began, really working on technique. I always just dreamt of having this complete and total independence of both hands. And I remember I used to do scales and work technique all the time just so I could - I remember sitting there and setting the metronome up and then simply doing improvised pieces, but playing them in 16ths and 32nds, both hands going at the same time. And for a while there, I was just obsessed with Bach and that whole thing of counterpoint. That's something that's always interested me, I guess. And in form, which for me is such a huge part of everything.

I was going to ask you about form, because I think one of the great things about so-called free improvisation, in general, is you have the choice to have whatever form you want. But the ironic thing is that it seems most of the performances I see have the exact same form: they start out slow and pensive, and of course they build to the loud and chaotic point. And it's not free at all. Whereas when I hear your playing, I really don't know what to expect any time I hear something.

I think that comes, for me, once again, that comes from the studying, the understanding, of different form types. In terms of the rondo and binary and rounded binary, and just the different kind of things like that, and different actual types of forms. I think the A-B-A form is just such an easy form for people to latch on to, or simply soft-loud-soft. That's such an easy way to go. And it's a tried and true, it's been out; people have been doing it for years in many different forms and different genres. And even if you take the rock and roll songs, there's a prime example, in terms of starting with the chorus and then your verse, and your chorus and your verse. You build to the Eddie Van Halen guitar solo in the center -

Ideally!

Ideally, exactly. And it comes back to the 5,000 times-repeated chorus at the end. There's your song. And sometimes when I play, when I do solo, I'll totally set up a form in my head before I play a piece; I do that consciously. But sometimes it's inevitable when you're playing with other musicians, because there's only so much that you can do to push them and shove them in any certain direction. But something I've always talked about with ensembles and stuff that I've worked in, form doesn't have to be - at least to me - it doesn't have to be A-A-A-B-B-A-A, you know it doesn't have to be that way. Form to me simply means that you should have, or try to have, set sections that make a statement on a certain level, as opposed to just going from A to Z, go from A to A1 to B to B1 to B11, maybe back to A, you know what I mean? That way, quite honestly, when I set up a piece, I'll be like, I'm gonna start with a solo section, I'd like the percussion to come, and at some point in time, let's have a guitar solo, and then let's end. And sometimes it goes that way, and sometimes it doesn't go that way at all. But that's something that I find really important, exactly for the reason you're saying. I just think it's something that should be there that doesn't always end up there.

That's interesting, because when I see you perform, especially with Phil (guitar) and Tatsuya (percussion), I think it seems very spontaneous, the form. Probably just because it's usually so atypical, as I say I really don't know what's going to happen. So that's interesting that you would plan that out to some degree. Do you plan that out just by yourself or do you talk it over with the performers before you play?

Sometimes I do, and sometimes I don't. With Phil and Tatsuya, we don't often talk about much. I'm more referring to the chamber music group that I have now.

And that's with Anita (singer) and Katt (violin) and Gary (percussion) and -

James Coleman (theremn). And even with that, sometimes we talk about it; sometimes we don't; sometimes we forget about it. Sometimes it's simply, I'll start the first piece; you guys'll start the second piece, and we'll start the third piece together. And sometimes, that's all that's said. It really just sort of depends. When I play solo, I almost always roughly try to plan it out. It just gives me more of a focus. When I play solo, I think I'm more focused.

I guess I haven't seen you play solo in a while.

That's my favorite, honestly. On a certain level, it's my favorite. I don't think it's as much fun to play solo; I really enjoy the camaraderie and the way someone can totally throw you for a loop on stage - I think that's so much fun. But it's two different ways of playing.

Besides the obvious, what would you say is the difference between playing with a trio and playing with a quintet?

Well, with a trio, it's much more one-on-one, as opposed to a quintet. To me, the difference in playing with a trio, I guess it also depends on the players. The obvious thing with me and Phil and Tatsuya - Phil and I really treat it as a sparring session at times. In the sense that you're dealing with less ideas, number one. And so as a trio, there's more of a sound of piano, drums, and guitar. Whereas with the larger the ensemble, the more you have to be concerned with the whole group sound. And you don't want to try to make yourself to be too much of an individual. Whereas when it's with a trio, I think there's more room for individual sound and individual reaction to each other. And obviously, if I use that trio as an example, number one because it being so - not a regularly found instrumentation - where you have the bass playing the bass area, and I'm playing this area of the harmony, and Phil is playing the melody or something. We all have to work in different roles.

But once again, there's more space for individuals to sort of work with each other there, whereas when it's a quintet, for my taste, sometimes it's a little bit cluttered. So you have to be really sparing in what you do, and you really have to think much more on a textural level and a layering level than with a trio. But the trio I just played with at the Autumn Uprising (in Jamaica Plain, Boston), that was piano-bass-drums. That was the most traditional setting I've ever played in, just in the music. Hence, a lot of it sounded the way you would expect it to sound, simply by the instrumentation. But I think a lot of it didn't, which was what I wanted to do. Does that answer your question?

Yes it does. As an improviser, do you find each performance relating to the kind of music you've been listening to over the last, say, week or couple weeks or couple days?

Not really. No, I don't think so. I sort of think of music - since, I guess I don't have to tell you this, I have a really big collection of CDs and albums and whatever; it's a hefty-sized collection - and there's music that I think influences, and there's other music that just fills some sort of gap or need. When I sit down and listen to Schnittke piano music or when I sit down and listen to a Beethoven string quartet, I normally don't just put that on for background music while I'm cooking; I sit down and listen, whereas when I listen to Pink Floyd or whatever, I listen to it a little bit differently, I put a certain amount of creed into it, of course, but I've also probably heard it a thousand times.

One of my biggest joys in life, although it's a very small thing, but it is something I really do enjoy, is listening to an album for the first time. Because the first time I listen to an album, I really listen to it. And of course with multiple listenings, you start to hear more and more, but that's also, that's what makes an album good or bad, if it warrants multiple listenings. But for me, since I have so much music, I think I have to be sort of judicious in how much I can actually absorb on one level. And the other whole side of this, well you maybe have absorbed a thousand hours of Exile On Main Street by the Rolling Stones, but how does that manifest itself in your playing? And do you really want it to? So for me, when I listen to Beethoven, or when I was reading through all that Beethoven stuff or whatever, I was really absorbing more than I would say listening to a Blue Oyster Cult album, although I'll come home and easily put one on and enjoy it and know every single note for note and play all the air guitar solos. I will, 'cause I know it', cause I've heard it a thousand times. I don't come home and put on the Boulez piano sonatas and treat it in the same fashion. That's how I would answer that.

Yes, music that I listen to obviously has influenced me a great deal, but things don't really happen on that local level. If I buy the new Radiohead album, I don't go out and play Radiohead the next day, that's not going to happen. I think, having heard so much music, a large focus of mine is to try to really hide the influences. On the level of almost suppressing them, digesting them and then - I can sit here and listen back to something I've improvised, and I'll be like, Oh I was thinking George Winston there. But you may not hear that; I hope you don't hear that, because I don't want anybody to hear that.

Well, I've never been inspired to think of George Winston after hearing you.

Well, Here Come the Warm Jets has influenced me a great deal, or probably even more than that is Music For Airports (both by Brian Eno). I've been listening to that album for twelve years. I've had it for a long, long time. That has definitely penetrated the cranium on a large level.

I can definitely hear that.

Things definitely do influence me, but not on the immediate level.

I would be remiss to fail to mention Sachimay Records. How long have you done the label now?

Sachimay has been in existence for about five years, four years.

How many releases?

I think there's twelve, I think. Eleven or twelve.

Ever since I've known you, you've been putting up posters for your artists, sending out postcards. How the hell do you find time to do that and commute to work, full time job, and practice, perform, record?

It's not easy, I guess. I must admit, I don't practice as much as I used to, obviously. If I get in forty-five minutes for three days a week, I'm happy. Although on a Saturday, I will try to get in a little bit more if I have the time, or a Sunday I'll sit down and play. But something for me that I've really - I've developed my own way of practicing. And something that I took from NEC was the whole idea of ear training and how important it is. Because there's definitely something to their philosophy that if you can sing it, you can play it. And I think that's true on a certain level. In the sense that I worked so hard on my technique for a long time, because I always said to myself, I wanted to be able to play - when I'm improvising - I want to be able to call on my hands to do whatever I'm asking them to do. I can honestly - that's an actual thought that I've had many times in my head. And that's how I look at it. So - not that I'm saying my technique is perfect by any means; there's a lot of things about my technique that I can't stand - but at the same time, I've sort of taken that part of my practice out, which used to consume me. I used to do scales and shit for hours. So my practicing now is much more based upon listening, and when I listen, I sing. When I'm home - you can ask Anita - I sing all the time. And I sing counter-melodies, and I sing harmonies that don't fit in; I sing bitonal stuff. I transpose and - well, I do some funky shit. But that's how I practice at home; that's how I do it.

So I do it while I'm at the computer. I do that while I'm stuffing envelopes; I do that while I'm licking stamps. A teacher of my wife's once said, the amount of time that you spend studying your literature, doing the research on the songs, or doing any sort of written work, in terms of how preparation is concerned, it's also practice time, you know what I mean? So Sachimay, as much as a pain in the ass it may be at times, and the amount of work that goes into it - as much of a pain in the neck it is, I'm also practicing. I've worked it out in my head that way, so I don't feel guilty about it, ha ha. It's a commitment, I think, when it comes down to it. This has always been what I wanted to do with music.

Sachimay, like I said, for me it's a tool. I use it as a tool, and that's something that I've really come to grips with recently. It's simply a tool - it's a way for me to meet people and learn how a business works from the other side. I'm certainly not competing on the big level, but I am learning what it takes for certain things. I guess there's also a little bit of confidence going into it. If I didn't think I was any good, I wouldn't try so hard, perhaps. Maybe that's pretentious to say that, but I'm not saying I'm great, but I think I'm doing something that people should hear, I hope. So I think it's just a matter of persistence, patience, and understanding that hopefully some day, someone's going to hear something. But whatever, it's got to happen, I think. So that also has to do with Sachimay and why I've tried so hard to get it out there.

Sounds good.

Well, I've enjoyed talking about myself. My head is now seventeen times bigger than when I got on the phone, it's horrible.

Well, we'll see if we can work it down to twelve.

Nice!