Derek Taylor - V/A FMP in Retrospect
Slim & Michael Coyle - talk about recordings: FMP in Retrospect 1969-2010
Slim - FMP: A Listener’s Retrospective
Captain Hate - FMP in Retrospect
John Fordham - FMP Records: FMP in Retrospect
Stuart Broomer - Boxed Set: FMP in Retrospect
Peter Margasak - FMP Closes Out With Glorious Flourish
Art Lange - without title
Ken Waxman - SOMETHING IN THE AIR - FMP’s 40th Anniversary
Michael Rosenstein - without title
Jason Bivins - without title
PsychMetalFreak - without title
Aaron Cohen - Editors’ Picks
Peter Margasak - A Monument to the Living
Nick Cain - FMP Im Rückblick - In Retrospect 1969-2010
Derek Walmsley - Abenteuer in der freien Musik
François Couture - without title
Stef Gijssels - without title

Derek Taylor
V/A - FMP in Retrospect
Released at the end of last year to little official fanfare and a limited pressing, this massive box set is also the German label’s epitaph of sorts. That second fact is a sad one, but what a way to go out. The music is a mix of reissues and previously unreleased material the likes of which sets any free improv fan worth their salt to salivating on sight. An exhaustive phonebook-sized tome runs down each and every FMP-sponsored session and concert in gloriously gratuitous detail. Illuminating essays by Bill Shoemaker, Peter Brötzmann and Ken Vandermark and others (including one detailing the protracted and contentious pathway to the label’s demise) offer editorial icing on the farewell cake. Though now out-of-print in box form the bulk of the music is still available in single-disc servings. My favorites include: Peter Kowald’s solo Was Da Ist (Live), Schlippenbach Quartet’s At the Quartier Latin1975/77, and Steve Lacy’s Solo/Quintet 1975/77.
from: Dusted Magazine, December 13, 2011
(Correction: The box is not out of print nor sold out - some of the individual CDs are out of print at this moment (December 2011): FMP CD 137, FMP CD 140 and FMP CD 147)


Slim and Michael Coyle talk about recordings:
FMP IN RETROSPECT 1969-2010
Him: Let’s begin by describing the 218 page book (with facing columns in German and in English) that comes with this 12-CD box set. It’s beautiful to look at. The box itself is large and LP-sized. Production values are impeccable. In Retrospect celebrates 40 years of work. The book comprises: seven serious essays plus a personal statement from Peter Brötzmann; an alphabetized index of the artists who either recorded for FMP or have participated in any of its more than half-a-dozen performance projects and workshops; a catalog of FMP/SAJ/Uhlklang LPs and CDs; and photos, liberally interspersed throughout the book, some full-page and some intratextual. Indeed there are color reproductions of every FMP et al. album cover, as well as of all the posters for the performance projects, concerts, and workshops (Total Music Meeting, Workshop Freie Musik, Summer Music, etc.) mentioned above. This extraordinary book is so full of information and reflection it could stand alone.
Slim: Yes. It’s truly breathtaking in its scope, achievement, and presentation. Let’s start with the text.
Him: In concluding his essay, Wolfram Knauer discusses how record labels “are still ahead of the new distribution structures: in the best case, they are a kind of seal of approval for the music produced by them. Good labels have managed to develop their own profile which then stimulates the listener (equals the buyer) also to take risks with this label - to listen to musicians and projects they maybe never heard of before.” FMP certainly deserves this kind of tribute. It achieved a recognizable sound as surely as did Blue Note or Impulse in the years immediately before it. I fear that we’re losing this kind of coherence. The absence of producers in the new internet era, where artists record and release their own material, means that there is nothing for musicians to push against, and nothing of similarly recognizable power to guide listeners to new work. More gets recorded but less gets heard.
Slim: One thing that this set makes clear is that FMP founder Jost Gebers had a definite vision. As producer he was the one constant through all the changes. He was methodical, diligent, and consistent. Unlike Blue Note, which in going from Stride to Hard Bop to mainstream to contemporary to singer-songwriters has struggled to keep up with the times, FMP has maintained its commitment to a single vision even while working with a changing roster of musicians. This is not to say the music has not changed - it’s followed a natural continuum but clearly there is no pressure to fit in with the musical times and be something. The collective powers of FMP define what it is.
Him: I agree with you, but I’m interested nonetheless by scholar Bert Noglik’s discussion of FMP’s search for a new foundation for Free improvised music, a foundation distinct from the “Great Black Music” being pioneered contemporaneously by AACM musicians in Chicago, or distinct from any American jazz music founded on Blues tradition. Noglik seems to want to find a single foundation for the music that came out on FMP, but even though he talks about the importance of a “mental equivalence” as opposed to an “agreement regarding style,” I think what emerges from his discussion is that there is not necessarily one foundation that grounds all contemporary improvised music.
Slim: One of the impressions I got was that FMP first developed in contradistinction to Impulse and the general emergence of Fire Music: it had the same spirit but a different aesthetic. Instead of competing with American jazz it saw the value in drawing on European models. What’s interesting to me as someone who experienced these FMP releases in time, following them as they came out, my general impression is this is a label that showcases German guys. It may have started out that way but after looking over the impressive roster of musicians provided in the book, the reality is they were also recording (or inviting to perform in their various concert series) European guys like Han Bennink, Evan Parker, and Jan Garbarek. In fact, there is a strong American presence with the likes of Steve Lacy, Tristan Honsinger, Roswell Rudd, and John Zorn; and, furthermore, African American contributors like Cecil Taylor, Sam Rivers, Bill Dixon, Butch Morris, Charles Gayle, William Parker, Sunny Murray, Hamid Drake, Sonny Sharrock, Matt Shipp, Wadada Leo Smith, and David S. Ware. All those are guys but the list of women contributors is equally dazzling: Marilyn Crispell, Irène Aebi, India Cooke, Lindsay Cooper, Shelley Hirsch, Susie Ibarra, Joëlle Léandre, Sainkho Namtchylak, Irène Schweizer and Aki Takase - to name only a few. Again this evolution shows a dedication to the vision beyond the usual politics and economics that often get in the way of documenting Art.
Him: These lists are impressive, especially the list of women. It strikes me that the free music scene in Europe was the first jazz or post-jazz scene that readily accepted female performers. But let’s go back to the question of African American players. In his essay, Felix Klopotek has lots to say about the divergence of the FMP aesthetic from the American Free aesthetic, even the most adventurous of which he claimed was still “the continuation of a bigger [jazz] continuum.” In his account, the European aesthetic explicitly defined itself against what was happening in Chicago or New York, and his account resonates with what Noglik has to say about the postmodern plurality of possible foundations for new music. But, there’s one historical event that Klopotek marks as especially important: Cecil Taylor’s 1988 Berlin concerts, which he believes marked the (re)convergence of American and European aesthetics, a convergence without surrender or a victory on either side.
Slim: This accomplishment is all the more impressive because Klopotek also notes that Gebers regards Cecil’s first performance in 1986 for FMP as “less than successful.” Saxophonists Frank Wright and Peter Brötzmann had stepped on board to take the place of an ailing Jimmy Lyons, who had been playing with Taylor for 25 years. Gebers notes that Lyons’ absence was audible. To paraphrase, Taylor allowed them little space and treated them as accessories. I read this as saying that Taylor simply wasn’t ready to play nice. Clearly he got over that, as in the years to follow there were other (quite successful) Taylor-Brötzmann collaborations.
Him: So what do you think about this idea of a convergence? Do you think that the European and American Free scenes now speak the same language? Is there a shared aesthetic?
Slim: I would say that there are shared aesthetics, but not one single aesthetic. Players from Europe and America can now meet as equals, even though there is the sound of the American avant-garde and there is the sound of the European avant-garde. But I think there’s more freedom today for musicians, whatever their nationality, to contribute to the avant-garde scene of their choosing. Ken Vandermark, for instance (who contributes an essay here) seems at home in either camp. There are currently more outlets for documenting these musics, which makes it less necessary to try to fit into a particular school in order to be heard. I don’t necessarily think the European avant-garde developed in opposition to what was going on with the American scene; I think it developed because this was the aesthetic of those musicians making the music. Also, we’re talking forty years since the inception of FMP. Forty years ago this music seemed strange and even threatening; now, even though not “mainstream” this music is a familiar cultural presence. FMP has played an important role in changing attitudes about what counts as music and even art. We can split hairs on the minute differences between the American and European avant-garde but the important thing now is there are outlets for musicians to make contributions where they see fit. And the 21st Century global market - the internet - permits listeners to pursue their musical interests regardless of how marginal they might be.
Him: One of the recurring themes of these essays, particularly Bill Shoemaker’s, is the difficulty that anyone stateside would have had in A) finding out about this music at all and B) actually obtaining it. Shoemaker says no one stateside was covering the scene: didn’t Cadence establish itself by covering European releases?
Slim: Well, one has to assume that he’s referring to the FMP years prior to 1976 - the year Cadence launched. In 1977 Cadence ran eight reviews of Brötzmann’s FMP records; since then it has consistently reviewed Brötzmann’s releases, FMP and otherwise. Shoemaker is right, though, that in those early days the European avant-garde went unnoticed by the American Jazz establishment. Thankfully, Gebers’ vision didn’t require immediate notice from large audiences; even today this music attracts little notice from the jazz press and zilch from the entertainment industry. We hear daily about how “avant” Lady Gaga is, but the mainstream remains uninterested in anyone who has really moved beyond hype and ticket sales. Meanwhile, FMP diligently plugged away, and now, in hindsight, we can see that cumulatively it represents a substantial aesthetic achievement. The pop world likes to proclaim the importance of its latest confections right up front; FMP by contrast just did the work and waited for time to tell.
Him: Of course the fact that FMP was just doing the work doesn’t mean that Gebers and others weren’t documenting its activities. Here’s where this box set becomes important even for those few who have followed FMP from the beginning: In Retrospect gives shape and force to the history of this label - o small in terms of sales, so massive in terms of cultural impact - for the first time in the fullest possible way. Its narrative works much like its music; that is, it’s not about one voice but the exchanges of different perspectives that work together to achieve a whole greater than the sum of its parts. In Retrospect is a genuinely compelling accomplishment.
Slim: Let’s not forget the 12 CDs in this set (for a more sustained discussion of the music see Slim’s Spins in this issue of Cadence). It’s not clear to me how the selection process worked - that is, how particular albums were chosen for inclusion here - culling a dozen CDs from over 300 releases could be no simple process. For instance, there is nothing in this set that features Cecil Taylor, perhaps because he already was the subject of his own 12-CD FMP set (Cecil Taylor In Berlin ‘88), or perhaps because contractual reasons made inclusion difficult. And yet In Retrospect is supposed to be, well, a retrospective; Taylor figures importantly in the book but is not represented in the music. By contrast, three of the twelve CDs, one quarter of the total, feature Peter Brötzmann. We don’t know what the selection process was, but after reading the book there are some observations that suggest inferences. Brötzmann was instrumental not only in shaping the sound of the label but also its look. He wasn’t just a creative force but seems actually to have been crucial in the behind-the-scenes, day-to-day grunt work. Also whereas six of the CDs included are from the ‘70s, there is one lone CD - a solo Fred Van Hove - representing all of the ‘80s. Three are from the ‘90s and two from 2000 on. Interesting the breakdown.
Him: Here is another example: Machine Gun (FMP 0090, Brötzmann Octet 1968) is mentioned several times in the book and yet it isn’t included here. Is this because FMP feels this album is already so well known? Or because Brötzmann figures on other recordings collected here? Or perhaps because it is in print on the Atavistic label? I do think we should look at Brötzmann’s artistic statement - the statement which opens this book. Here it is in full: “40 years of music history, playing a critical part in it, getting all that down on a few pages is not my thing - and that’s why, Jost, from me, thank you for this unprecedented engagement worldwide.” This statement takes the form of a painted canvas, with the words appearing in dripping marking ink and gouache on canvas. The entire work is beautifully reproduced as the first page after the Table of Contents, with an English translation of his German text by Isabel Seeberg and Paul Lytton.
Slim: This canvas exemplifies Brötzmann’s contribution to the visual presentation of FMP, and how responsible he was for FMP’s “look.” His artwork is visually recognizable in the same way that Han Bennink’s and Peter Kowald’s artwork is on so many of their projects. Special mention should also be made of photographer Dagmar Gebers’ work. There are over 200 of her photos in the book; the consistency of her presence is another identifying factor in the FMP aesthetic. Many of her early photos are black and white, some are sepia-toned and some are color. They are all engaging artistically and/or historically. One particularly interesting set of panels from 1977 is of Brötzmann and Bennink, side by side, both improvising on clarinets. The earliest photo I saw was from 1974 (p.78, of Brötzmann, Van Hove, Mangelsdorff, Bennink).
Him: So let’s close by posing a few openings - some teasers that readers might enjoy pondering.
Slim: How about these?
1) What sabotaged the planned 1996 concert reunion of Steve Lacy and Cecil Taylor? And what would they have sounded like 35 years after they last recorded together? (see p.22)
2) Why isn’t there a recording documenting the Brötzmann group with Don Cherry? (see p.58)
3) What are the real details involving the infamous “FMP takeover,” and what was the ruling after the three-and-a-half years court battle? (see p.75)
4) What was the first recording issued by FMP? (see p.171)
Him: If our readers act quickly they can answer these questions before they appear on “Jeopardy.”
from: Cadence Magazine 7-8-9, July-September 2011


Slim
FMP: A Listener’s Retrospective
Nostalgia is a funny thing. It can be easily evoked - just take out the family photo album and before long you’ll be cooing over baby photos of recent high school grads or lamenting vacation spots long since spoiled by tourists. While you’re at it throw on Harry James’ “I’ve Heard That Song Before” or Glenn Miller’s “Moonlight Cocktail” or any version of “When Johnny Comes Marchin’ Home.” Read the words “Jukebox,” “Polaroid” of “Candy Stripers” and be instantly transported to yesteryear. When I got this assignment to cover the 12 CDs in the FMP - In Retrospect: 1969-2010 Box set, I unexpectedly, but delightfully, got lost in my own nostalgic zone. I grew up in a family home where music played continuously. A daily offering could include: Ornette Coleman, Pete Seeger, Aretha Franklin, Bach, or Bird and Diz. Music was Music. As a youngster, for me, it had only two categories: “Father’s records” and ”Mother’s records.” I didn’t think in terms of genre. I came of age right around the time FMP was making its way not only stateside but, more specifically, to the family turntable. In hindsight I did notice “it,” although at the time I didn’t have a label for “it”, mainly because I didn’t think of “it” in terms of being music. I just remember hearing “it” as sounds: pings, honks, squeaks, booms, rattles. For years afterward I was more curious than interested in this “music”, curious about the efforts being made not only on the part of musicians but also on the part of those documenting it. Somewhere along the way my level of understanding changed and curiosity switched to substantial interest regarding the music. (Thank god some fool was out there recording these other fools while this fool and her ears caught up!) So what changed? To simplify, just start by hearing the sounds (of which there are many). Saxophones honk. But in FMP’s world so, too, do guitars. Differentiating between what you are actually hearing and what you think you are hearing is an interesting exercise in itself. Is that slow bowing over a tight violin string? No, that’s actually Evan Parker playing a continuous high note on soprano. And by the way have you noticed he has not taken a breath in 40 minutes? How does he do such a thing? Drums rattle. But in FMP’s world so do trumpets. Why am I not hearing anything? Actually, what you are hearing is Paul Lovens not playing the drums. And he’s not playing them for effect. And the other guys in the band? They aren’t playing either right now because, duh, they are waiting for him to complete his solo. With sound in check let’s go to texture. Forget power tools. In the world of FMP, string instruments do al the heavy sawing while trombones do the buzz drills and woodwinds knot notes. On percussion, Han Bennink can go from a state of bliss to agitation or vice versa in no time flat. Peter Kowald’s bass playing is so gestural it’s easy to picture. Any imagined visual component is a nice bonus. So what if you meet these works halfway and they still don’t move you? Well, that’s life. But don’t be surprised if, sitting in a meeting one day, someone drops a pen on the floor, knocks a laptop off the desk retrieving the pen, and, instead of jumping to attention to the situation at hand, that sound montage sends you somewhere off in dreamland. FMP embodies that experience in sound. To most this Art doesn’t matter. But for some it matters the most. Here are some observations on a dozen recordings offered by a label that matters. (see reviews FMP CD 137, FMP CD 138, FMP CD 139, FMP CD 140, FMP CD 141, FMP CD 142, FMP CD 143, FMP CD 144, FMP CD 145, FMP CD 146, FMP CD 147 & FMP CD 148)
from: Cadence Magazine 7-8-9, July-September 2011


Captain Hate
FMP in Retrospect
(…) Now to the music. But even before that, a MAJOR reason to purchase the set instead of the individual discs is the accompanying 220 page book with 7 essays of the history of the organization (one by Vandermark is typically earnestly clunky but hearfelt in style; some of the others get a bit pedantic but are chock fulla information about every aspect of the label and the musicians) plus chock fulla great photos. The book reminds me of what accompanies Bear Family sets for those of you with country tastes.
The 12 discs are either previously unreleased material or that which was only available on LP before. The first is a Globe Unity Orchestra with Enrico Rava and Braxton 1975 performance that just defies belief. The first cut is by Rava and immediately you realize you're in for something special as the playing just shifts motifs on a dime while swinging its ass off. That's followed by a long Brax composition in which all the usual suspects are in fine form but there are some extended trombone solos by Albert Mangelsdorff that are just outstanding along with a lung bursting bass sax solo from Herr Brötz. Next is a Peter Kowald composition and then two by Von Schlipp that are just jaw dropping. There's some Kenny Wheeler playing on here that's much rawer than what I've been used to. Somehow I've slept on Globe Unity throughout the years for whatever reason; now I think I have to seek out lots and lots of stuff by them.
The second disc is a reissue of "Stabs" a Steve Lacy solo recording of 7 tracks from 1975 and 2 quintet cuts from two years after. Even though I have lots of Lacy, this was at the beginning of his solo performances when he was still trying out a lot of things and I hear aspects of his approach which he ultimately discarded even though they sound perfectly fine and interesting. I've believed that his larger groups were some of the more unjustly underappreciated gatherings that the jazz taste makers in this country were autistic toward. This has Kent Carter on bass along with the usual suspects of Aebi, Johnson and Potts and is the only recording of one of the songs.
The third disc is an Irène Schweizer/Rüdiger Carl/Louis Moholo disc from 1975 called "Messer" and a subsequent recording from two years later that was obviously influenced by the Taylor/Lyons/Cyrille trio but with its own identity and unique oddities. Again I can't believe how melodic a lot of this is after my former apprehensions of it being mainly a bunch of formless shrieking. Of course maybe my ears have changed through time as well.
The fourth disc is the Von Schlipp Trio with Peter Kowald on bass playing a live date. There's excellent playing throughout on the date which shows that EP was a monster even back then with just showing incredible control in his circular breathing. The rest of the band is smoking too particularly an extended bass and drums part at the beginning of the last cut. Speaking of the cuts, the notes point out that in the LP days you can imagine the problems when those guys played 60+ minute continual performances. I guess the producer got really good at segregating out long passages that he'd fade quickly in and out and calling them individual cuts. The musicians obviously approved because the first essay goes to great lengths to point out those players were involved in all aspects of the production.
The next disc is a Brötzmann solo recording from 1976 that is remarkable for a number of things. First is that there's hardly any tenor sax playing on it; rather the alto gets possibly the biggest workout and also the clarinets. Second, there are a couple cuts where he's playing two clarinets simultaneously, and very melodically. Plus there's a huge bass sax lung shredder that is just hilarious to listen to. This isn't the standard Brötz blow a blood vessel and spray everybody down performance; rather it's stunning in its sheer musicality (is that a word?).
The halfway point is reached with a long out of print rerelease of a LP with guitarist Stephan Wittwer and Radu Malfatti that lots of people have been trying to get their mitts on for a while. This certainly is an early predecessor of what became eai; in fact I'm surprised that this hasn't been mentioned on IHM as an early influence on the new genre although maybe its previous unavailability has something to do with it. Anyway this holds together extremely well and is quite enjoyable. I was confused as hell about "White Noise", a recent Malfatti disc, and was relieved that SOZ felt the same way (at least he did when we were commenting on it years ago) and I think this is a much better gateway into what his music has become.
That's all the further I've gotten in the discs but I'll supplement this thread as I go through them. I wanted to mention it now because of the situation I mentioned at the beginning. It can't be an easy slog to keep a record store going in these times and I hope he can move that box quickly when he gets it back (on Tuesday per UPS). Hopefully the Biv or Gordo will add their impression; or anybody else that may have the box *or* were prescient enough to get the original LPs. Needless to say it's impossible to rave this up too much. Even the hobbyists at Downbeat gave this a 5 star.
The seventh CD is two solo piano performances by Fred Van Hove. Van Hove was initially a tough nut to crack for me; I bought his solo release, "Passing Waves" on Nuscope in 1998 based on a very positive Cadence review and it pretty much confused me. So I dutifully put it on the shelf and let it sit there until sometime within the last 5 or so years, when I pulled it out and it sounded great. I subsequently got a download of a solo performance and it sounded even better; so good that I paid rapt attention to it the whole way through. Fred doesn't have many releases out, which most people would automatically think is a bad thing until you consider that maybe he doesn't release anything until he *really* has something to say. That was certainly the case for both of these performances, a live one in Berlin in 1981 where he bangs the piss out of a kind of substandard piano to make it have its own sonic identity; and a studio one from 1986 with a much better instrument with which he produces some stunningly dense passages that all contain a complex inner logic. The thing I like most about Van Hove's playing is that it never loses its sense of being easy for a listener to enjoy a sense of playfulness amidst all the waves and waves of notes; contrast that to Von Schlipp's '77 Solo release which was brought out on CD three years ago that is much more forbidding in terms of ease of access to the listener. This is an incredibly good addition to my collection and makes me want to seek out even more of his catalog, both on FMP and otherwise.
As a brief aside, few things irritate me as much as a discussion of politics and music. Most of it is so fucking obvious that it barely merits mention. But one thing that struck me both before getting this set, and then reading an essay by Bert Noglik, was the political setting for the label; namely 1968 in (partially) Berlin. This was a time of great political ferment in Europe between the Adam Smith/Karl Marx divide and in Germany the divide was physical. I don't see how some of the outpouring of sounds can be separated from the enforced partition of people no matter which side of the divide you come down on. Per the essay, Jost Gebers actively encouraged the meeting up with and collaborations with musicians in the east. I think this would've made a nice contemporary story for Ken Burns to address if he could've gotten Crouch's hand out of his ass and manipulating him as a puppet to only deal with things in black and white that ended by 1968.
Disc 8 is one that a few reviewers have quibbled about; it's a previously unreleased November 1994 Total Music Meeting performance of Die Like A Dog. The quibbles are based on two things: first that with a rhythm section of Hamid Drake and William Parker, this sounds more like an Eremite or Okka retrospective. I understand that concern but think it's ill-placed; namely that FMP was open to all comers and having established a Euro-centric identity was willing to let the cards fall where they might as far as morphing into whatever. The second criticism is that on the long first cut (46 minutes) invariably the superb drum and bass team will reach a stretch that makes you wonder "haven't I been down this path before?"
Still there's much to commend this, mainly that any new Toshinori Kondo is very welcome. There are times when he leans on the electronics that the sounds between him, Brötz and Parker are quite intriguing. Also near the end Brötz breaks out the bass sax with a tectonic plate moving fury which Kondo reacts very nicely to. The only bitching I have about that is that the copious photos in the book on this performance don't show Herr Brötz wielding the leviathan. Maybe that's ok though, since he might be playing the big horn while it's stationary on a stand, rather than the mental picture I have of him toting that sucker around the stage and just fragging the audience with plasma bolts. That's my image and I'm sticking to it.
On a side note, last night at a Ken Vandermark/Tim Daisy concert (which I'll try to write up later) I think I surprised KV by commending him on the essay that he wrote in the book. It was typical Vandermark prose: Kind of clunky but very heart-felt in giving his reaction to the first time he heard Machine Gun and how things took off from then. Despite my occasional quibbles about facets of Vandermark (nobody is entirely the way that I think they should be except Evan Parker; EP is perfect) among the very positive things that he's done is foster working relations with European musicians, particularly in this case Herr Brötzmann (although I'll always be most thankful for him championing my favorite whacko, Hal Russell, for a few last blastoffs before his time among us mere mortals was complete). That is still a work in progress but already the constellation of musicians associated with him and the resultant synergy should be adequate in itself to regard him very positively.
I'm down to the last four discs. I feel like Mrs Hate did when she was watching "Brideshead Revisited" (the multi-part one with Jeremy Irons; not that godawful condensed thing they somehow conned Emma Thompson to be part of) and reached the last video-cassette (remember those?) and said "I feel like I'm losing a friend".
Choral-Konzert by the Manfred Schulze Bläser Quintett probably provides the most compelling reason for purchasing this set; even more so than the book which I've raved about earlier. First of all, if I were purchasing these individual discs blindly with no prior knowledge, this is probably the last one of the collection I'd spring for. It's a 1998 live recording at Total Music Meeting by a bunch of musicians I don't know (trombonist Johannes Bauer is the only one that I can recognize from another recording, Brötz's Chicago Tentet + 1's 3 Nights in Oslo, although alto saxist Manfred Hering sounds vaguely familiar without going through my collection to prevent sounding like a fucking idiot) playing the compositions for a wind quintet of some extremely obscure self-taught East German who played in jazz and dance bands in the 60s. Second, this is FMP, where you break out nuclear weapons to kill an ant. This isn't the go-to label for a fucking wind quintet. Plus I've got enough Hemphill era WSQ and Rova to last forever. Finally if this has laid complacently on the shelf for 13 years, how good can it be?
Well this is very fucking good. I'm tempted to go through some old Wires to see how this set was regarded by whoever covered this because it's hard to believe this is the first time this has seen the light of day; actually I'm also wondering of some of our posters from the past were in attendance. I don't feel up to the task of describing some of the four compositions because some of them are so steeped in early choral polyphony as a basis for improvisation which is outside anything with which I'm familiar. All of them hold my interest but the real tour de force is the title cut, a 37 minute exploration and development of a motif that left me floored at how compelling every step of the way was. In works like this I'm stuck with not knowing how much to credit the composer (who unfortunately was too ill to attend this wonderful concert) versus the individual musicians (in addition to the 2 previously mentioned: Paul Schwingenschlögl on trumpet, Heiner Reinhardt on tenor sax and Gert Anklam on baritone sax). Eh WTF; kudos for all and for FMP for *finally* making this available.
Disc 10 is a previously unreleased 1999 Total Music Meeting performance by Manuela, a group made up of FMP stalwarts Rüdiger Carl (clarinet, accordion & claviola), Hans Reichel (guitar & daxophone) & Carlos Zingaro (violin) with an addition of Jin Hi Kim on kumungo. I've had a bit of difficulty coming to grips with this because of the instrumentation (I need to watch a youtube of a daxophone being played to figure out what sounds it makes because I'm having a hard time doing that by trying to eliminate the other instruments; which doesn't make for an ideal listening experience) but also by the stated and well executed willingness of all instrumentalists to submerge their personalities into the musical whole. This comes as quite a contrast to what I automatically think of as FMP representing a label where instrumentalists like Brötzmann may as well have their heads coming through the bell of the saxophone as far as having a recognizable and individually in your face musical sound. The concept of highly talented musicians willfully being anonymous sounds self-defeating but the results of this suggest otherwise.
I assume from the titles (all fragments of the words "Ei! Improvisiererei") that all songs were collectively improvised. If so they do a wonderful job of incorporating folk melodies into the mix and produce some stunning moments of inspired interplay. Obviously these are musicians who listen and react to each other extremely well. Finally on the brief (just over 3 minutes) encore they do an inspired version of Paul McCartney's "Those Were the Days" to bring the concert to a very satisfying close.
As I said previously, this is not the type of music that I associate with FMP but it obviously adheres to the concept of a free music production.
Disc 11 is a solo performance by bassist Peter Kowald, Was Da Ist recorded in 2000. This is a follow-up to a 1994 solo studio disc by the same name (I thought I read somewhere that he'd taken a sabbatical from performing while just working on advancing his technique; but I can't find it in the liners so either I read it somewhere else or this is a completely internal misconception) that was 23 short pieces in contrast to these 7 offerings. I'm not sure if any of these correspond directly to the previous 23 although it's hard to imagine there not being any overlap. Anyway the technique displayed throughout here is just stunning. I hate to admit this but I was *very* late getting to a level of appreciation for Kowald even though I knew he was held in high regard by the likes of Brötz and his circle. But this is inspired use of extended sound to arrive at extremely logical and coherent performances.
The last disc is pretty much a disappointment; a duet between cellist Tristan Honsinger and guitarist Olaf Rupp from 2010. Maybe this will improve with time but I doubt it. There's quite a bit going on here but none of it seems to grab me and by the time it was over my reaction was "so what". Too bad because in this box this sticks out as something that didn't work for me. I find it hard to believe they didn't have something better that's unreleased to include in place of this.
from: Jazzcorner, Speakeasy,Record Reviews, July 31 - August 24,2011


John Fordham
FMP Records: FMP in Retrospect
Germany's Free Music Production label grew out of the New Artist Guild co-operative in the 1960s (when else?), and recorded most of the legends of European and then American free-improvised music before legal battles and ownership fights hampered it in the 21st century. Founder Jost Gebers presents reissued and new material made between 1975 and 2010 - but as important as the music is the accompanying 218-page book. It includes Bert Noglik's thoughtful setting of FMP against German socio-cultural evolution, American-jazz angles from Ken Vandermark and Bill Shoemaker, and spectacular photography. Musical highlights include Alex Schlippenbach's Globe Unity Orchestra - represented by a structurally intriguing 1975 concert, including Kenny Wheeler and Anthony Braxton. There's plenty of Schlippenbach music featuring Evan Parker, some razor-sharp playing from Steve Lacy, dynamic Louis Moholo drumming behind saxist Rüdiger Carl and pianist Irène Schweizer, and Peter Brötzmann's awesome first multi-sax solo recording, from 1976 - though no Cecil Taylor, FMP's biggest international recruit. In Retrospect is a unique portrayal of an idealist operation that made a big difference, so it's for free-improv obsessive’s, of course - but that's an ever-expanding niche.
from: The Guardian, July 14, 2011


Stuart Broomer
Boxed Set: FMP in Retrospect
Germany’s Free Music Production (FMP) is one of the great labels of jazz and improvised music, the essential voice of German free jazz and central to the development and spread of the distinctive European improvising schools. Launched by Jost Gebers in 1969, the label was responsible for documenting the work of leading German figures - Peter Brötzmann, Peter Kowald and Alexander von Schlippenbach among them. Rooted in the divided Berlin of the Cold War, FMP embodied a tough, uncompromising aesthetic, bound up with the spirit of American jazz and European impulses from Expressionism to anarcho-socialism.
Gebers leased some aspects of the label in 1999 and since 2003 there have been various legal actions based on violations of the agreement, German courts finding in Gebers’ favour. He’s commemorating the label with this formidable boxed set. Contained in a grey-brown box with the grim monumentality of a Berlin factory, the set includes a hefty tome and 12 CDs. The book, with 218 12” x 12” pages, has a wealth of photos by Dagmar Gebers. There’s also an image of every FMP release from 1969 to (1999) 2010 as well as documentation of the label’s related concerts. Essays include detailed histories of the label and its significance (including American assessments by Ken Vandermark and Bill Shoemaker). The set omits material that’s been reissued, opting for unreleased or long-unheard LP releases. It makes for maximum interest and the quality of the ‘new’ sessions testifies to FMP’s importance.
The label’s international vision is evident on a session from 1975 by Schlippenbach’s Globe Unity Orchestra with guests Enrico Rava and Anthony Braxton. The group merges collective blowing and orchestral composition, with Braxton’s “U-487” standing out for managed density. The Schlippenbach quartet with Kowald, Evan Parker and drummer Paul Lovens also gets a CD: At Quartier Latin combines tracks from 1975 and 1977 LPs that blend aggression and coherence at levels rarely achieved by any band.
Brötzmann’s solo LP Wolke in Hosen from 1976 moves through his many voices with galvanizing power, whether it’s an impassioned wail or trancelike repetition. There’s also an unreleased 1994 Total Music Meeting set by his Die like a Dog Quartet, the Albert Ayler-inspired ensemble playing with a bristling sense of commitment and risk.
It’s a tribute to Gebers’ vision that he would document radically different musics, whether based on a musician’s rapid evolution or new stylistic directions. Rüdiger Carl first appears as an intense free jazz saxophonist in 1975/77 recordings with pianist Irène Schweizer and drummer Louis Moholo; in 1999, he’s playing subtle clarinet and accordion within the world-music influenced Manuela with its international string ensemble of Jin Hi Kim, Hans Reichel and Carlos Zingaro. There’s also a brilliant duet LP from 1977 of trombonist Radu Malfatti and guitarist Stephan Wittwer charting the radical turn that European free Improvisation would take, instrumental sounds far from their usual identities.
The composer Manfred Schulze is honoured by the unissued Choral-Konzert, seamlessly interweaving his mix of classical forms and free improvisation. The most recent recording is a 2010 duet between Tristan Honsinger and Olaf Rupp, whose rhythmic drive belies expectations for cello and guitar.
There are also fine solo CDs, including one by exploratory Belgian pianist Fred Van Hove and an unissued 2000 performance by the late bassist Peter Kowald playing with a testamentary power. The strong links forged between European and American
free jazz are most evident in a disc that combines solo and quintet recordings from soprano saxist Steve Lacy done in the mid ‘70s.
The set provides ample documentation of Jost Gebers’ signal role in recording and distributing European free music. Released in an edition of 1,000, the set is well worth the investment. The CDs will be released individually as well: several are essential hearing for anyone interested in the course of free jazz and improvised music.
from: The New York City Jazz Record, June 2011


Peter Margasak
FMP Closes Out With Glorious Flourish
It’s hard to think of another label that’s done more to document, support and nurture European free jazz and improvised music than Berlin’s Free Music Production. The label has experienced a spurt of activity over the last few years with label co-founder Jost Gebers back at the helm following a disastrous attempt to hand the company down to someone else back in 1999. Alas, the recent flourish looks like a glorious death rattle. With the release of the astonishing 12-CD box set FMP Im Rückblick-In Retrospect 1969-2010 (*****) the company is shutting down operations, but what a way to go out.
Packaged with a lavish 12-inch by 12-inch 218-page booklet featuring illuminating essays, detailed discographical information and a thorough listing of concert productions that formed the other key part of the company’s activity, this set vibrantly tries to sum up more than four decades of history. Such an undertaking is daunting and impossible to accomplish, but the attempt is remarkable in its generosity, range and energy. Seven of the discs are culled primarily from the label’s out-of-print catalog, appearing on CD for the first time, and it should come as littler surprise that the selections are dominated by the powerhouse names that first made their marks with releases on the label.
Baden-Baden ’75 features knockout performances by Alexander von Schlippenbach’s Globe Unity Orchestra from November of that year; the Peter Kowald composition “Jahrmarkt” turned up on a record issued on PoTorch, but the other four fiery tracks are previously unissued. The lineup is heavy-duty, with Kenny Wheeler, Evan Parker, Paul Lovens, Enrico Rava, Peter Brötzmann and Anthony Braxton jubilantly attacking a program of compositionally rooted improvisations, at least in contrast with the band’s all-improvised approach these days. Many of those players are leaders on other discs in the set: Brötzmann’s 1976 solo recital Wolke in Hosen lays out his durable template for the format, his absorption of post-bop flurries exploding into pure ear-cleaning sound, while the unissued live 1994 session captured on Close Up finds him with his furiously energetic Die Like A Dog band, with William Parker, Hamid Drake and Toshinori Kondo. Schlippenbach’s bracing quartet with Parker, Kowald and Lovens is at the peak of its power on At Quartier Latin (which pairs a side from two early FMP albums), while the searing Kowald solo Was Da Ist (Live) is a previously unissued 2000 live take on ideas from his 1995 studio album of the same name.
Part of FMP’s importance was reflecting the strong network of musicians all over Europe, usually in shifting constellations among themselves, but sometimes with lineups revealing a transcontinental cast. Messer Und… features the dynamic trio of Swiss pianist Irène Schweizer, German reedist Rüdiger Carl and the great South African expat drummer Louis Moholo, collecting the four dynamic tracks from their 1975 album Messer, and the title track from Tuned Boots, recorded a couple of years later. Soprano saxophone genius Steve Lacy was one of a handful of American greats well-represented by the FMP catalog; In Berlin contains the entirety of his crucial 1975 solo album appended by two quintet tracks from Follies (1977), with Steve Potts, Irène Aebi, Kent Carter and Oliver Johnson. While the work on Manuela + is unadulterated improvised music, the titular trio of Carl, guitarist Hans Reichel and the Portuguese violinist Carlos Zingaro are joined on this previously unissued 1999 date by the daring Korean Komungo player Jin Hi Kim: The label anticipated the real flowering of intersecting, global traditions.
All 12 CDs are also available individually, but this monumental set exceeds the kind of detail and splendor that FMP delivered through its history.
from: DownBeat Magazine # 5, May 2011


Art Lange
From the beginning, FMP was more than a record label. It was a musicians’ cooperative, a protest union, a concert production company, a booking facilitator, a vortex of new musical expression, a dynamic arena for contrasting creative viewpoints, and a seldom-if-ever-profitable business enterprise with a conscience. And yet if, throughout its rough-and-tumble history, FMP (originally Free Music Production) acquired a commonly-held, albeit shortsighted, reputation as a label identified solely with a particularly probing, compelling, and especially vehement style of European post-Ayler free improvisation, then this 40-plus-year celebratory package may help set the record (so to speak) straight.
A large part of this problem of perception has been that although they released 192 LPs (by my count) on FMP as well as associated labels SAJ and Uhlklang between 1969 and ‘89 - some of them legendary, many of them mere rumors in the U.S. - only two dozen or so have been reissued on CD (a few migrating to other labels like Atavistic and Intakt), with the remainder of this astounding catalogue unavailable for the past 20-30 years. Ironically, one reason for this regretfully enormous gap in free jazz recorded history has to do with the non-commercial nature of the music itself, along with the vagaries of sponsorship and governmental funding - not to mention some rather vicious and expensive legal battles. (Given the new technology and increase of online marketing, let’s hope that label chief, co-founder and savior Jost Gebers can in the very near future arrange a paid system of legally downloading all their out-of-print LPs.) For some time now, FMP’s most visible, and thus most popular and critically acclaimed, releases have been those of Peter Brötzmann, the Schlippenbach Trio, and Globe Unity - all from the founding generation of FMP musicians. Subsequent generations of musicians brought a broader stylistic outlook to the label, but when was the last time you saw an album by Friedemann Graef, Martin Theurer, Bernhard Arndt, or Urs Voerkel? Moreover, not all the musicians on FMP followed what could even loosely be described as a free jazz party line - witness the presence of the percussion group Africa Djolé and Gambian griot Jali Nyama Suso, electronic specialists Hugh Davies and Michel Waisvisz, and classically-oriented musicians Vinko Globokar, Harald Bojé (a member of Stockhausen’s in-house ensemble), and Burkhard Glaetzner (a performer of the Baroque oboe repertoire), whose solo album actually consisted of compositions.
The twelve CDs that have been chosen to represent the label in this limited edition release are a curious mixture of the known, the rare, and the unusual; nevertheless, they do provide a concise argument in favor of the label’s vision and stylistic breadth. Brötzmann, of course, is here, with a solo album (formerly Solo, retitled Wolke in Hosen) that shows off the ripe tone of his New Orleans-influenced (specifically Omer Simeon) clarinet playing and some gossamer-edged alto sax, and a disc, previously unavailable in any format, by the Die Like a Dog quartet, where his usual proclivities are modified by a different drummer (Hamid Drake, whose tabla playing, for example, establishes an unlikely environment for the horns). Steve Lacy is given a disc containing his pungent, poignant, wry solo album Stabs and two of the four exuberant quintet pieces from Follies. Bill Shoemaker, in his accompanying essay, informs us that the decision to excerpt from this album was due to the deterioration of the original tapes. No doubt this is true; however, if this (and the similar partial album material included on several of the other discs) ultimately will prevent the complete album from being issued in the future, I disagree with the decision. Better-than-adequately sounding digital recordings have been released using clean LPs as source material; the importance of this music for future reference legitimizes the preference of a good LP dub to nothing at all. Likewise, the Schlippenbach Quartet (the usual suspects plus bassist Peter Kowald) is allowed the complete release The Hidden Peak but adds only side two of Three Nails Left, highlighting Paul Lovens’ unique percussion palette and impetus.
Luckily, pianist Fred Van Hove’s disc combines two complete LPs, Prosper and Die Letzte, displaying his deftly strategized improvisation and spiky playfulness. Another frequent “outsider” pianist of distinctive personality, Irène Schweizer, is heard as part of a magnetic trio with reedman Rüdiger Carl and drummer Louis Moholo via their album Messer and one-half of Tuned Boots. Carl, featured on clarinet and accordion, is also a member of Manuela, a previously unreleased trio that includes Hans Reichel on guitar and daxophone, and violinist Carlos Zingaro, with guest Jin Hi Kim on komungo (a Korean version of the koto) - together, they offer a music of group empathy drawn from Korean, Japanese, Tibetan, and original voicings. The duo of trombonist Radu Malfatti and guitarist Stephan Wittwer projects delicacy and an attention to minute detail on their previously issued Und?, with the bonus of an untitled track of unknown provenance, possibly the same session. Another duo, cellist Tristan Honsinger and guitarist Olaf Rupp, debuts with a new release, Stretto, of free-floating counterpoint, alternating restraint and agitation.
The remaining three CDs contain previously unreleased sessions. The Manfred Schulze Wind Quintett carries on the legacy of the late baritone saxophonist and composer who released two albums on FMP; this new one, from 1998, Choral-Konzert, is a characteristic manipulation and extension of traditional and improvisational procedures. Was Da Ist (Live), from a 2000 concert by Peter Kowald, one of FMP’s patron saints, is a good showcase for his solo bass concepts, but an example from his several group recordings could have shown off his enormous spirit as a collaborator. Finally, Globe Unity’s exceptional concert at Baden-Baden ’75 is the most remarkable of the new material presented here. Only Kowald’s riotous and quote-laden “Jahrmarkt” (once issued on a PoTorch LP) has been heard before; the remaining four pieces, including a rare performance of an Anthony Braxton composition, show off the ensemble in a flattering new light. Overall, it’s hard to find fault with any of the musical selections, although several of the label’s primary figures - Albert Mangelsdorff, Baby Sommer, Sven-Åke Johansson, and Ernst-Ludwig Petrowsky among them - are conspicuous in their absence.
As much a selling point as the music will be the lavish, oversized, 218-page book. Necessary essays by Wolfram Knauer, Ken Vandermark, Bert Noglik, Bill Shoemaker, Felix Klopotek, Wolf Kampmann, and Bernd Mehlitz relate the history of FMP in factual details and just-as-valuable personal reminiscences. There’s a raft of stunning musician photos, and a series of documentational lists, including the full catalogue of LP and CD releases, all of the musicians who participated over the years, and all of the concerts and projects that FMP organized. True, the musicians list would have been more useful if it had specified on which recording or concert they appeared, and the catalogue of releases lacks song titles and other discographical information (fortunately, this latter is available on the website fmp-label.de). But anyone familiar with the label’s Cecil Taylor box knows how impressive this book is.
In his enclosed brief “Personal Statement,” Peter Brötzmann thanks Jost Gebers for the “unprecedented engagement” FMP gave him. That word, engagement, hits the mark in more than one sense - as security in a cause that matters, to mesh with others and bind together, to provide occupation (and, to the rest of us, experience), to hold our attention, and to enter into a relationship of meaning and consequence. That, in a nutshell, is why record companies like FMP matter.
from: Point of Departure # 34, April 2011


Ken Waxman
SOMETHING IN THE AIR - FMP’s 40th Anniversary
Throughout jazz history, independent labels have typified sounds of the time. In the Swing era it was Commodore; Modern jazz was prominent on Blue Note and Prestige; and with Improvised Music, FMP is one of the longest lasting imprints. Celebrating its 40 th anniversary, the Berlin-based label has given listeners a spectacular birthday present with FMP In Rückblick - In Retrospect 1969-2010: 12 CDs representing FMP’s past and future - the oldest from 1975, the newest, by American cellist Tristan Honsinger and German guitarist Olaf Rupp from 2010, half previously unissued - plus an LP-sized, 218-page book, lavishly illustrated with contemporary photographs, posters, album covers and a discography.
FMP’s musical scope was overwhelming. In this box, for instance, are discs by an early Pan-European ensemble, the Globe Unity Orchestra (GUO); solo sessions by Belgian pianist Fred Van Hove, German bassist Peter Kowald and others; outstanding combo dates including British saxophonist Evan Parker and Swiss pianist Irène Schweizer; and instances of minimalism from German string-player Hans Reichel and Austrian trombonist Radu Malfatti. Ferocious German saxophonist Peter Brötzmann, who almost single-handedly formulated Free Music in Germany and helped create FMP, is represented on three CDs. No exercise in nostalgia, the book outlines in unsentimental details how the revolutionary climate of the late 1960s sustained the growth of tough, experimental, music modeled on American-influenced Free Jazz. FMP’s value was that by 1971 it was recording distinctively European Free Music, blending layers of contemporary notated and electro-acoustic music, Fluxus art ideas plus folk-based material onto the American base. Triumphs such as FMP’s documentation of American pianist Cecil Taylor and its wide dissemination of essential American, European and created-in-East-Germany discs are also noted.
Broadminded, FMP never asserted European musical superiority however. For example, Steve Lacy Solo 1975 & Quintett 1977 In Berlin CD 02 (FMP CD 138), is a reissue by Americans Lacy on soprano saxophone; alto saxophonist Steve Potts; bassist Kent Carter and drummer Oliver Johnson plus Swiss cellist Irène Aebi. The band’s super-fast harmonies plus the contrast between Potts staccato and linear style and Lacy’s bugle-like moderato blowing atop Carter and Johnson’s Freebop backbeat, demonstrate why the quintet was admired. Most of the CD consists of some of Lacy’s earliest solos, including The Duck. Characteristically that thrilling improvisation is built from a collection of kazoo-like reed bites, split-tone yelps, hissing and rasping growls and muffled mid-range retorts. Lacy defines free music.
Another way to mark the evolution of FMP and European Free Music is by following the thread from Schweizer/Carl/Moholo 1975/77 Messer und… CD 03 (FMP CD 139) to MANUELA+ Live In Berlin 1999 CD 10 (FMP CD 146).Almost 25 years later Rüdiger Carl’s mercurial and atonal saxophone squeals sprayed out in never-ending blasts alongside Louis Moholo’s paced drumming and Schweizer’s percussive pianism with a hint of Stride, has mutated into contradictory but equally aleatoric inventions. Now Carl, in the company of Carlos Zingaro’s spiccato violin buzzes, Jin Hi Kim’s throbbing komungo strings, and Reichel’s thumping daxophone rhythms layer the interlude with distinctive colours from his new instruments of choice – light-toned clarinet and pumping accordion glissandi. Without lessening his commitment to improvised sounds the former leather-lunged saxman, now operates in a more placid area, as his quivering intonation toughens the other strings’ tremolo jetes while the daxophone’s strident whines provide comic relief.
Demarcation of a unique style - which suggested a different path than all-out Free Jazz characterized by discs such as Baden-Baden ’75 CD 01 (FMP CD 137), with five previously unissued performances by the 16-piece GUO providing plenty of space for genre-defining reed-splintering solos from Parker and Brötzmann; the soaring triplets of trumpeter Manfred Schoof; plus high-energy piano dynamics from GUO leader Alexander von Schlippenbach - was germinated by another of this collection’s reissued CDs. In 1977, trombonist Malfatti’s and guitarist Stephan Wittwer’s UND? ... plus CD 06 (FMP CD 142) conclusively proved that interactive pointillism and polyphony as reductionist chamber improv was another option. Sometimes this strategy involves Wittwer’s kinetic rasgueado seemingly filling all the sonic space, before Malfatti’s puffs, mouthpiece osculation or leaking discordant tones move to the forefront. Despite this, connections are always linear with tracks like Cotpotok (still valid) exhibiting a broken octave coda of koto-like picks from the guitarist plus lower-case slurs and growls from the brass man.
Underlining the sparks he still generates and his importance to FMP, as player, designer and talent scout - the book’s first and final images are of Brötzmann in quartet formation and in frantic performance with Taylor. Similarly besides his GUO affiliation, two other CDs demonstrate the saxophonist’s prowess. Close Up/Die Like A Dog 1994 CD 08 (FMP CD 144), is a hitherto unreleased concert date with one of his most powerful formations: Japanese trumpeter and electronics manipulator Toshinori Kondo, Americans William Parker on bass and Hamid Drake on drums and tablas, plus Brötzmann playing saxophones, tarogato and clarinets; and Wolke in Hosen/Brötzmann Solo 1976 CD 05 (FMP CD 141), the reedist’s first solo disc. On it he shows the breadth of his skills, from surprisingly mellow, yet atonally-tinged alto saxophone vibrations on Two Birds is a Feather to the elongated and contrasting contralto and altissimo obbligatos on Piece for Two Clarinets; to how he uses tuba-like blasts and slurs plus heavy flutter tonguing to turn Humpty Dumpty, a showcase for his bass sax, into a jaunty march. Characteristically Close Up demonstrates not only high-quality Free Music, but also other musical currents welcomed by FMP. On the 46-minute Close Up/Man, Kondo’s flutter tongued runs and plunger tones are further fragmented by electronic wave forms, while Drake’s rhythmic tabla pulses suggest World Music. Meantime Brötzmann progressively masticates and splinters dissident ostinatos from tenor saxophone or bass clarinet, using the nephritic friction for call-and-response with the trumpeter’s rubato strategies, and sometimes stopping for speedy spiccato friction from Parker, all backed by the percussionist’s ruffs and pops.
Brötzmann is still going strong 16 years later, as are many improvisers recorded by FMP from its beginning. Nonetheless, as Stretto CD 12 (FMP CD 148) demonstrates, new music still comes from the label. Spiced with aviary field recordings, the eight tracks blend the timbres from cellist Honsinger’s sardonic verbal humour, col legno smacks or enhanced legato quivers with Rupp’s chromatic frails plus spidery finger picking. With new generations to record, perhaps FMP can last for another 40 years.
from: TheWholeNote.com, April 2011


Michael Rosenstein
One thing about FMP, they know how to celebrate milestone anniversaries with significant documents. To mark 10 years, there was the For Example - Workshop Freie Musik 1969-1978 set, while their 20-year anniversary brought the massive Cecil Taylor in Berlin 88 set. Ten years later, the label was in a state of flux (more on this later), but to mark its fourth decade Jost Gebers, once more at its helm after protracted legal battles, has chosen to go out in style with FMP - In Retrospect, a deluxe set celebrating the achievements of one of the seminal artist-directed organizers and documenters of free music. Weighing in at close to 10 lbs., the box contains 12 CDs (both reissues and previously unreleased material) of music recorded between 1975 and 2010, and a lavish 220 page book. The discs are all available separately, but the real reason to spring for this (and act fast because it is a limited edition of 1000) is the book. Seven essays offer complementary viewpoints on the history of the organization and the label, accompanied by a treasure-trove of photos by Dagmar Gebers. A comprehensive listing of concerts, Total Music Meetings, workshops, and studio sessions (along with reproductions of original posters) and a complete catalog listing of FMP, SAJ, and Uhlklang records, singles, special boxes and CDs serve as a phenomenal reminder of how important these labels have been in documenting the polyglot and constantly evolving world of free music.
Wolfram Knauer, director of the Jazzinstitut Darmstadt, kicks things off nicely with an account of the origins of Free Music Production, tracing its roots back to 1966 and the formation of the New Artists Guild in Germany by Manfred Schoof, Alexander von Schlippenbach, Peter Brötzmann, Peter Kowald, and others. Starting out with a series of concerts titled "Jazz am Rhein," these musicians sought to develop a European response to American free jazz, synthesizing its urgency and energy with Fluxus (via Brötzmann) and European composition (via Schlippenbach), and drawing together communities of like-minded musicians in Cologne, Wuppertal, and Berlin. In November 1968, Brötzmann and Jost Gebers organized the first Total Music Meeting as a response to Berlin Jazz Days, incorporating both pre-existing groups and ad-hoc collaborations. From there Knauer follows the growth of the organization from a collective for producing concerts and recordings until Gebers took on responsibility for running things in the late 70s, focusing on the documentation and development of international free music in a professional manner. What is unusual in an essay of this type is that Knauer doesn't shy away from questioning FMP's current role, going so far as to state that "today, FMP may rather represent the creative past than the aesthetic discourse of the present," balancing that by stressing FMP's and Gebers' role in the preservation and continued documentation of this important period in history.
While the search for a European voice was central to FMP's activities, American musicians were actively welcomed from the beginning, with musicians like Anthony Braxton, Steve Lacy, Noah Howard, and members of Gunter Hampel's Galaxie Dream Band included in concerts and recordings. Essays by Ken Vandermark and Bill Shoemaker provide a US point of view. Reading their essays brought back my own memories of hunting down recordings on labels like FMP, Incus, and ICP in the pre-Internet days of the early 80s, trying to piece together the developing European response to the Fire Music I had grown up with. Shoemaker's detailed analysis of Schlippenbach's The Living Music and his melding of improvisational and compositional strategies makes for a great read.
Another critical thread in the FMP story is the way that the organization mirrored the cultural, political, and social upheavals in Germany since its inception. Bert Noglik's essay is particularly insightful on Berlin's cultural history - from the student revolts of the late 60s and the tensions between East and West to the fall of The Wall and the cultural upheaval of reunification - and on how Gebers championed GDR musicians, nurturing important alliances early on with the East Berlin scene. Felix Klopotek's essay explores FMP's development of a pan-European network through concerts and "(Anti)-Festivals" which "were like laboratories and performance stages, noisy trade fair stands and meditation space for self-reflection… demonstrating working processes, the intricate paths of creativity." Klopotek's piece gets particularly interesting when he charts the balancing act Gebers faced as producer / presenter trying to keep the label, workshops, and festivals all alive and afloat, meanwhile grappling with developments in the second wave of German Free Jazz in the 80s - figures as diverse as Georg Gräwe, Möslang and Guhl, Johannes Bauer and Helmut Joe Sachse - and the "re-Americanization" of the label with the likes of Charles Gayle, William Parker, Bill Dixon and Cecil Taylor. Both Klopotek and Wolf Kampmann dig in to the dirt of the last decade as Gebers handed over the reins of the label and production company to Helma Schleif, only to see things get ugly fast as the imprint foundered and legal battles began to rage. The District Court of Bielefeld eventually decided in Gebers' favor in 2006, but repercussions persist to this day: "Ms Schleif still violates the stipulations of the settlement as laid down by the Higher Regional Court of Appeal Hamm, the copyrights (texts, photos) and the competition law by offering CDs which are no longer available," Gebers complained last year.
Perusing this mighty tome, one bemoans the missed opportunities for recordings: an early Schlippenbach Quintet with Parker, Lovens, Günter Christmann, and Buschi Niebergall; a night of electronic improvisations from 1979 with solos and a quartet by Hugh Davies, Alvin Curran, Peter Cusack, and Michel Waisvisz; a Brötzmann group with guests Don Cherry and Hugh Davies; and the 1986 "Trombone Project" which featured just about every major free trombonist (except, curiously, Paul Rutherford): the Bauer brothers, Günter Christmann, Radu Malfatti, Mangelsdorff, George Lewis, Garrett List, and Giancarlo Schiaffini. But we can at least rejoice at these 12 CDs, which combine long-out-of-print reissues and new music from the archive, and their clear commitment to charting the development of a pool of musicians over the course of four decades.
Baden-Baden '75 - Globe Unity Orchestra + Guests kicks things off in style with a quintessential example of what FMP has always been about, combining a core group of German free players with visitors like Enrico Rava, Kenny Wheeler, Anthony Braxton, and Paul Rutherford. While Globe Unity could always brew up a mighty roar, this recording shows the importance of compositional forms. Rava's "Marañao" is a free lilting swing that brings to mind Brotherhood of Breath, and Braxton's "U-487" a tour de force of ensemble colors with a proto-march theme that acts as a connective thread for features by Schlippenbach, Lovens, Wheeler, Braxton, Schoof, and Brötzmann. Kowald's "Jahrmarkt", the only previously issued piece on the CD, breaks the ensemble down in to various sub-groupings to romp through skirling, cacophonous roars shot through with deconstructed kernels of Monk, Charlie Parker and polka along with killer solos by Mangelsdorff and Braxton. And Schlippenbach's "Hanebüchen" and "The Forge" show the pianist's knack for improvisational orchestrations, whether massing the sections of the ensemble or hocketing lines around the group in swirling, spontaneous antiphony.
Und? … plus is a reissue of the second FMP recording by Radu Malfatti and Stephan Wittwer from 1977 (along with one previously unissued improvisation), and one I've been searching out for years now. From the opening scrabbled, steely scratches and hauntingly resonant breathy tones, it captures a notable transition in Malfatti's language away from the muscular free jazz he'd been playing in London and towards the hyper-focus on pitch, sound and silence of his work today. The dry, intimate recording captures the bristling textures and timbres of these improvisations with detailed intimacy, as the musicians push beyond individual extended trombone and electric guitar technique into intimate timbral explorations.
Leap ahead two decades and Manuela + Live in Berlin captures Rüdiger Carl, one of FMP's stalwarts, in a group with Hans Reichel, Carlos Zingaro, and Jin Hi Kim from a previously unissued performance at the Total Music Meeting in 1999. In many ways, this group's music couldn't be more different than Malfatti's duo with Wittwer, with its infusion of melody, folk sonorities (accordion, violin, and komungo) and comedic edge (the encore of "Those Were the Days" is a hoot), but there's the same sense of an improvisational language being created on the fly. Reichel's mad daxophone grunts and groans against Carl's warm, woody clarinet, propelled along by the percussive, quavering resonance of Kim's komungo and the sonorous swoops and sawed flurries of Zingaro's violin. This is a great example of the type of projects encouraged by Gebers over the years and a commendable inclusion in the box.
Solo performances have been an important aspect of the FMP project over the years and the box provides some spectacular examples. Check out Was Da Ist (Live), a recording of Peter Kowald's solo performance at the 2000 Total Music Meeting two years before his untimely death. In 1994, Kowald took a year off from touring to spend time in Wuppertal, during which he led weekly workshops with the Ort Ensemble Wuppertal and recorded a set of 23 compact studies for solo bass. This live recording expands on the basic ideas outlined in the studio session, weaving them together into a program of seven improvisations. Kowald's astonishing technical mastery is reason enough to recommend it, but there's far more at play here than a display of instrumental facility. There's a clear overall trajectory to the performance, with its juxtaposition of sputtering activity and rich, static fields of overtones; variegated string harmonics and droning Tuvan vocals; delicate detail and muscular propulsion. Few recordings of Kowald's solo performances have been released, so the inclusion of this one is a particular treat.
Soprano saxophonist Steve Lacy was a frequent participant in FMP events, so it's fitting that a reissue of Stabs (1975) is included. As well documented as his solo work is, this performance stands out. Lacy had only been playing solo for a few years at this point, but his notion of form and pacing was truly starting to gel. Included are incisive readings of "The Duck," "No Baby," "Deadline," and "Coastline", pieces he returned to often in the years to come. Listening to the kaleidoscopic ruminations of the title tune, the whispered wafts of "Moon," the crying lyricism of "Deadline" and the way he chants "No Baby" before diving into a crystalline solo, is simply spellbinding. The CD is filled out with two pieces from the quintet release Follies recorded two years later (unfortunately, tape degradation precluded the inclusion of the entire recording), with Steve Potts on alto, Irène Aebi on cello, Kent Carter on bass and Oliver Johnson on drums. It's a masterful balance of composed structure and spontaneous energy, particularly on the blistering version of the rarely recorded title tune.
From 1975 also comes the Irène Schweizer / Rüdiger Carl / Louis Moholo trio recording Messer, paired with Side A from Tuned Boots (again, only partially included due to tape master issues). Here is the full-bore European response to free jazz from one of the seminal first wave groups from the FMP stable. The contrast between the muscular assault of Carl's playing here and his playing on Manuela + is staggering, but there's the same flair for elliptical lines and canny sense of phrasing he brought to his later work. He and Schweizer are a consummate match, driven along with free polyrhythmic flair by Moholo. While the music is informed by the Taylor / Lyons / Cyrille trio, there's a unique sense of mass and drive here, particularly on a piece like "Göndsi mitenand" with its refracted piano shards, vocalized overblown alto, and sputtering drums. "Tuned Boots," recorded two years later, opens up the sound, as Schweizer dives inside her prepared instrument and Carl breaks apart his phrasing with angular stabs against the piano's shuddering resonance. Moholo responds with splashing cymbal work, tuned rim shots, and sizzling brushes, boosting the energy of the 20-minute piece as it builds in crashing waves of intensity and release. Let's hope Carl's King Alcohol and the Schweizer / Carl collaboration Goose Pannée also find their way back in to print.
Like Schweizer and Carl, pianist Fred Van Hove was an integral part of FMP from the start, as part of the groundbreaking trio with Peter Brötzmann and Han Bennink, a member of collectives like The Wuppertal Workshop Ensemble or M.L.A. BLEK (a killer quartet with Marc Charig, Paul Rutherford, and Radu Malfatti which you should grab it if you ever see it) and as a solo performer. Picking reissues for the box can't have been an easy task, and while it's too bad that the monumental Church Organ was passed over, the pairing of the live set Prosper from 1981 and the studio set DieLetzte from 1986 is a worthy inclusion. Listening to Schweizer and Van Hove back to back reveals how both pianists absorbed the vocabulary of free jazz piano to hone personal styles which, while built from a forceful intensity and fascination with timbral manipulation of the instrument, sound nothing like each other. On the live set, Van Hove makes the most of a particularly distressed instrument, making maximum use of its shaky tuning, dead spots, and jangling rattles for almost orchestral effect, and the nine compact improvisations fly by with a singular focus of momentum and form. The studio session finds Van Hove on a proper instrument and his playing is more precise and textured, with flurried runs that cascade over each other with striking articulation and potent elegance, providing a fitting companion to the live set.
Of course no FMP retrospective would be complete without the inclusion of Peter Brötzmann, an artist who, more than any other, is inextricably tied to the label. Brötzmann is hardly under-represented as far as reissues go, so it's somewhat surprising that his first solo disc, a studio session recorded back in 1976, is only now making its reappearance. Over the course of 12 compact improvisations, most in the four-to-five minute range and only one clocking in at close to 10, he brings out clarinet, bass clarinet, alto, tenor, and bass saxophones to explore the intersections of bellowing brawn and raw melodicism (his tarogato playing wouldn't find its way to recording for four more years). Things kick off with a blast of blistering, shredded roar, but over the course of the next 48 minutes Brötzmann moves through all kinds of thematic snippets, scabrous overtones and craggy overblowing, with one piece using two horns at once à la Roland Kirk and another whipping through a mashed and twisted march.
If I have any quibble with the set, it is with the inclusion of the previously unissued November 1994 Total Music Meeting performance by Die Like a Dog, Brötzmann's quartet with trumpeter Toshinori Kondo, bassist William Parker and drummer Hamid Drake. When their first album came out, Parker and Drake had just begun their long-term collaboration as the go-to foundation for free jazz stalwarts like Frode Gjerstad, Fred Anderson, and Jemeel Moondoc, and Brötzmann's re-examination of Albert Ayler's legacy came as a jolt, revisiting the roiling intensity and probing spiritual quest of Ayler's music. This set has its moments, particularly the fiery interaction between Brötzmann and Toshinori Kondo's skronked-out, overdriven trumpet and electronics, but the circuitous 46 minute piece and its 12 minute follow-up often seem to ramble. It would have been nice to see something from the criminally out-of-print trio with Harry Miller and Louis Moholo or the short-lived trio with Peter Kowald and Andrew Cyrille instead.
While the Globe Unity set provides a notable example of Alexander von Schlippenbach as organizer and composer, At Quartier Latin, which reissues Side B of Three Nails Left and all of The Hidden Peak, provides a view of one of the true heavyweight ensembles of free improvised music, his trio with Evan Parker and Paul Lovens, joined here by Peter Kowald. Jost Gebers had no qualms about cutting the live session up into short segments, some of which are further edited here from what appeared on the original LPs. The results aren't simply fades in and out, but a more cinematic set of edits which frame scenes within the extended live performances, like the dazzling Lovens / Kowald duo that opens the final cut. The trio's work with Kowald and Alan Silva in the late 70s / early 80s was never about simply adding a bass. On these sessions, Kowald's broad palette is fully integrated, and it is fascinating to hear how his harmonics and dark groans play off Lovens' variegated textures, Parker's looping skirls and Schlippenbach's crystalline clusters. It's great to have this back in print.
Even given the diversity of the CDs included in this box, Choral-Konzert by the Manfred Schulze Bläser Quintett stands out, a set of compositions for wind quintet. Schulze was an East German who came up through jazz and dance bands in the 60s. In 1969, he formed his first wind quintet, and, working outside of any academic environment, began to write pieces drawing together 17th-century German choral polyphony and serialism, interleaving tight notation and sections for open improvisation. By the time this set was recorded at the 1998 Total Music Meeting, Schulze had been sidelined due to serious illness, so a quintet of frequent collaborators was assembled to tackle his pieces. Though the musicians sound somewhat hampered by the formal structures, the brass (trumpet and trombone) and saxophones (alto, tenor, and baritone) provide a rich range of sonorities to work with and the individual voices, particularly Johannes Bauer on trombone and Manfred Hering on alto, deliver strong solos.
The last disc of the set, Stretto, is a duo recording from 2010 by Tristan Honsinger and Olaf Rupp. There are no surprises here, aside from the inclusion of field recordings: this is "old school", ebullient, conversational improvisation with ideas bounced back and forth and grainy textures juxtaposed. The crisp recording reveals the nuances of attack and resonance of Rupp's steel string acoustic guitar and Honsinger's unamplified cello, as the improvisations move between spiky activity and quietly evolving pools of reverberant detail.
There's no question that there is still plenty of gold to mine in the tapes Jost Gebers has stashed away over the years. The biggest question the box brings up is what happens to the FMP archive now that Jost Gebers has called it a day, and one wonders, now that FMP has weathered the storm of the last decade and the dissipation of generous funding, where its future might lie. We'll just have to wait and see, and hope that through FMP Publishing, Gebers will deliver a 50th anniversary celebration as essential as this.
from: ParisTransatlantic, Spring 2011


Jason Bivins
Things fall apart. Interest in what’s sometimes called “the hated music” has never been anything less than episodic: small pockets of furrow-browed, serious folk have occasionally swelled since the 1960s to medium-sized pockets. But the modest surges of interest inevitably recede, and the hard won successes of well-known individual improvisers can’t account for the shared struggle globally, as venues close or shift priorities, as magazines fold (goodbye, Cadence), and as door gigs continue to be the norm.
When Im Rückblick - In Retrospect‘s 12 discs arrived on my doorstep, it didn’t immediately strike me as obvious that it was the venerable Free Music Production label’s farewell. It was with great warmth and melancholy that I pored over the hundreds of photos in this lavish booklet, documents of unbowed and committed players who, since 1969, floated through one of the most significant labels to document improvised music. Its thorough history contains a list of every concert presented at the Total Music Meeting festival that birthed FMP, pages of reproduced flyers, and beautiful written reflections (including the back-story of the label’s legal battles and changing stewardship).
While there has always been considerable cross-pollination between different European scenes (and between Europeans and Americans), the Total Music Meeting often had a more internationalist bent than, say, the London or Amsterdam scene. There was Peter Kowald’s Global Village, Butch Morris’ Berlin Skyscraper, and the appearance of improvisers like Jin Hi Kim or Sainkho Namtchylak over the decades. So aside from FMP’s crucial documentation of first-, second- and third-generation European free improvisers (not just titans like Peter Brötzmann and Alexander von Schlippenbach but, thankfully, a raft of lesser known players), it’s also been key in documenting the intersection of various scenes, most famously with Cecil Taylor’s 1988 summit and Sam Rivers’ presence shortly thereafter.
Can a boxed retrospective hope to capture this range? Not really, but it’s a damn fine distillation in one place. The music was recorded between 1975 and 2010, and it does make an effort to represent the label’s long-standing concerns for local and transnational exchanges, solo and ensemble music. Several of the discs have been previously issued on vinyl (although finding them once required a serious, committed record safari), but there are also five brand new issues and some great live sets.
Solo performance constitutes a good portion of the set. There is a fantastic reissue of two Fred Van Hove solo piano dates from the 1980s. He’s puckish and racing on the first one, but always with those unexpected confessional moments amidst playful glissing or dissonant romps. Nobody crabwalks like Van Hove, but then amid the density he’ll bust out a weird, Kurt Weill-ish bit like “Prosper wals” or even some unexpected vocalisms - more evidence of the vast range and the stylistic synthesis documented by this scene. The later concert is like one bright efflorescence of notes, a sustained buzz of activity that ends with a furious Keith Tippett-like stream. There’s also a very revealing 1976 Brötzmann solo, Wolke in Hosen. It contains the full range of his imagination, from the barbaric yawps and vocalisms that put Mats Gustafsson in thrall, to the querulous clarinet lines that defy those who would pigeon-hole him as mere firebreather. The incendiary alto shout “twee(D)dldum” and a bass sax romp on “Humpty Dumpty” are highlights. One of Steve Lacy’s best solo concerts of the 1970s, Stabs, is here in its entirety (along with a pair of tracks from the hot quintet date Follies). The master is lyrical as always, and just beginning to move beyond his birdcall phase. And solo Peter Kowald is always a treat, nowhere more so than here on Was Da Ist live. The concert opens with a gripping sequence of arco statements, fragile, lyrical and supremely guttural at once. Throughout the set’s duration, Kowald sucks you in with the sheer humanity of his playing: from huge groaning chords, hypnotic drones, furious eruptions and chants.
The two duos on In Retrospect are miles apart in terms of quality, to my ears. Indeed, one of the box’s greatest surprises is an outrageous 1976 recording from guitarist Stefan Wittwer and trombonist Radu Malfatti. Before Wittwer lost himself in bombast and Malfatti in silence, they were deeply involved in a musical topography of alien detail. Imaginative, empathetic, and at times technically astounding, this is one I keep coming back to. The 2010 meeting of guitarist Olaf Rupp and cellist Tristan Honsinger, both of whom I very much like, is not so successful (and the disc’s dingy acoustic doesn’t do the music many favors). While it’s got good dynamic range, and some pleasant moments of cello melancholy, Rupp here sounds merely a slasher and the limitations of that approach hold the music back to me.
The small group recordings, however, are uniformly fine. One of the hottest from the mid-1970s was a trio featuring Rüdiger Carl on winds, pianist Irène Schweizer and drummer Louis Moholo. The music is flinty, with real fire and deep communication. Filled with barrelhouse romps and walls of sound, this trio knows acutely the value of repetition, shooting bullets atop a wave of rhythm or lacquering that one long note across it. There are also two valuable slices from widely celebrated ensembles. One includes a pair of sets by the Schlippenbach Quartet (Schlippenbach on piano, saxophonist Evan Parker, percussionist Paul Lovens and Kowald on bass), both glorious assaults from the Quartier Latin previously heard in part on The Hidden Peak and Three Nails Left. There’s also a typically marvelous gig from Die Like a Dog (Brötzmann on reeds, Toshinori Kondo on trumpet, bassist William Parker, and percussionist Hamid Drake), a 1994 set that opens in a mid-tempo tabla jam and gathers momentum until it arrives at this band’s singular throb and intensity.
In terms of localism and scene support, the clearest evidence on this box is the vivid wind quintet Manfred Schulze Bläser Quintett (trumpeter Paul Schwingenschlögl, trombonist Johannes Bauer, and saxophonists Manfred Hering, Heiner Reinhardt and Gert Anklam). With wildness in check for the most part, these fellows play with the kind of sober art sensibility one hears from ROVA and the Arte Quartett (especially on the opening “Bounce Nr. 2 (Choral)”). It’s actually a delicious surprise, filled with smeared color, contrapuntal energies and drunken gallops like “Choral-Konzert.” Slightly better known but equally superb is the 1999 date from Manuela: Rüdiger Carl (clarinet, accordion, claviola), Hans Reichel (guitar and daxophone), violinist Carlos Zingaro, and komungo specialist Jin Hi Kim. With Zingaro’s overtones and little chirrups from Carl’s squeezebox, this music makes for a lovely musical topiary, with the key being the interplay between the worried quaver of komungo and the daxophone’s surprising vocalisms.
And for those seeking a riotous blast of large ensemble polyphony, one of the real jewels is the Globe Unity Orchestra disc that leads the box off. It’s a gorgeous, exuberant mid-’70s shout from an all-star band truly in touch with the ethos. It ranges from an insanely good Enrico Rava track (showing how lyrical, even sentimental, players in this orbit could be) to a brilliant Anthony Braxton synthesis and a punk as hell “Jahrmarkt,” one of the GUO’s most beloved tracks finally presented properly.
Considered as a whole, the box set is testimony to the musical vitality, the social import, and, most important, the gravity of the musical relationships that make up these sounds, these meetings and these documents. FMP will be missed, but the music goes on.
from: Dusted Magazine, March 16, 2011


PsychMetalFreak
I have been listening to some releases by Peter Brotzmann and the record label that he has been most associated with - FMP, or Free Music Production. Be it free jazz, fire music or ecstatic music, the descriptors are not able to convey the history, the energy and the context behind the entire canon of albums, artistes and record labels which first started in the late 1950s with the release of iconoclastic albums by Ornette Coleman, Cecil Taylor and later on Albert Ayler, John Coltrane and Pharoah Sanders. The close link between these artistes and albums with the Black civil rights movement has been documented many times across dozens of publications throughout the years. BUT the parallel movement which sprang in the 1960s in Europe, inspired by these great Black artists across the Atlantic, has been a lesser known proponent, even though the Europeans were pushing the envelope of the genre as well as putting into practice the radical politics in the way they operate and run their activities, gigs and record labels. They were DIY, staunchly ideologically-driven and passionate about their music and the socio-political context/rationale behind the sounds they were creating.
The pockets of such Hakim Bey coined TAZ or even PAZ (hopefully, permanent autonomous zones) , I hope, are role models and should be beacons for us to follow today: the CDs in the retrospective set of FMP (FMP In Retrospect) are powerhouses of musical free playing and collective music making, demonstrating to us that even before the rise of punk which supposedly flushed out the bloated corporate major label run music industry, alternative ways of doing stuff by the musicians and artistes themselves were already well in place (besides FMP, Incus and the various labels formed by the Dutch jazz scene are just some of the many examples which appeared in the 1960s and 1970s; today we have Eremite, Ayler, Okkadisk and many more).
In the increasingly bland and hegemonic cultural and social giant corporate-run world of today, such independent and collective endeavours should serve as signposts for the current and future generations of thinking youths to emulate and to carry the torch forward in their own ways.
from: psychmetalfreak.blogspot.com, March 2, 2011


Aaron Cohen
Editors’ Picks
Who could have imagined back in 1969 that a German label religiously dedicated to uncompromising free-jazz would outlast the Berlin Wall? Such is the ongoing tenacity of Free Music Production, and its story is told in this intriguing 12-disc box set, compiled with a lavish book of photos and perceptive essays by such musicians as saxophonist Ken Vandermark and author Felix Klopotek. The company has been a true labor of love (or fanaticism) for Jost Gebers, who maintained a day job as a youth counselor until a few years ago. He formed FMP in late-’60s Berlin to provide a European response to the intense energy that Albert Ayler and Cecil Taylor brought to jazz (Taylor would perform with FMP stalwarts in Berlin in 1988). Saxophonist Peter Brötzmann became closely identified with FMP since its beginnings, and while he may be best known for his full-throttled attack (he titled a crucial early album Machine Gun), his discs on this set reaffirm that his music is much more complex and historically minded, particularly on his 1976 solo recording (Wolke In Hosen) and in his mid-’90s quartet Die Like A Dog with trumpeter Toshinori Kondo, bassist William Parker and percussionist Hamid Drake. As FMP advocated for individualistic musicians, a bunch of the collected recordings here are solos: Along with Brötzmann, saxophonist Steve Lacy, pianist Fred Van Hove and bassist Peter Kowald challenge their instruments, and, undoubtedly, many listeners, sans accompaniment. The set also includes tracks by pianist Alex von Schlippenbach’s quartet from the mid-’70s, which featured Evan Parker’s unmistakable soprano circular breathing, and a bracing 1975 performance by the Globe Unity Orchestra.
from: DownBeat Magazine, February 2011


Peter Margasak
A Monument to the Living
Venerable free-jazz label FMP is dead, but leaves behind a box set chronicling the thriving community it helped nurture.
FMP: Im Rückblick - In Retrospect (FMP)
For the past decade it's operated intermittently, rarely managing more than half a dozen releases per year and sometimes falling dormant for long stretches, but Free Music Production - better known as FMP - is nonetheless the longest-running active free-jazz label I can name. Or more accurately, it was: the monstrous new 12-CD box set FMP: Im Rückblick - In Retrospect is its final release.
Founded in 1969 as an outgrowth of an annual Berlin festival called the Total Music Meeting (which began the previous year), FMP was always a modest operation, with a tiny staff and little hope of remaining solvent without state arts grants, but it has no equal when it comes to representing the development and aesthetic range of European free jazz. Arising in the mid- to late 60s, primarily in the UK, the Netherlands, and Germany, European free jazz was distinct from its stateside predecessor, and inspired many musicians to revolt against the emulation of American idioms, a practice that had been the norm for decades. They took inspiration from contemporary classical music, especially serialism and atonality, as well as from the Fluxus movement, whose adherents loved absurdity and provocation and brought a playful openness to their notion of what constituted a "performance." In some cases the music's connection to the blues-still the bedrock of most American jazz-was imperceptible or entirely severed.
The first Total Music Meeting was organized by reedist Peter Brötzmann, a key figure in the history of European free jazz, and bassist Jost Gebers, who would soon put down his instrument to start FMP. Brötzmann became the label's most prolific, popular, and loyal artist, and helped shape its visual aesthetic with his paintings, prints, and drawings. Almost every important European free-jazz musician recorded for FMP, and even a list that restricts itself to the label's most prolific contributors is impressive - it includes saxophonists Brötzmann, Evan Parker, and Rüdiger Carl; trumpeters Manfred Schoof, Kenny Wheeler, and Enrico Rava; trombonists Johannes and Connie Bauer, Günter Christmann, and Radu Malfatti; drummers Paul Lovens, Sven-Åke Johansson, and Günter "Baby" Sommer; pianists Alexander von Schlippenbach, Irène Schweizer, and Fred Van Hove; and bassists Peter Kowald, Buschi Niebergall, and Harry Miller. And that's leaving aside the many like-minded Americans who got in on the action.
FMP: Im Rückblick - In Retrospect celebrates the label's longevity with music recorded between 1975 and 2010. The 12 CDs, which can also be ordered individually from FMP, include five discs of previously unreleased material, like a 1994 live set by Brötzmann's quartet Die Like a Dog and a solo Kowald concert from 2000. The other seven discs are all music from the depths of FMP's catalog, none of which has ever been issued on CD. One disc combines two Van Hove solo albums from the 80s; another augments Steve Lacy's classic 1975 solo set Stabs with a couple tracks from the great 1977 quintet recording Follies; a third is a mind-blowing session by the 1975 edition of von Schlippenbach's Globe Unity Orchestra, whose lineup included Wheeler, Parker, Lovens, Brötzmann, and Anthony Braxton - it hasn't even come out on LP, except for one track Lovens released in the late 70s on his Po Torch label.
Because FMP meticulously documented the branching evolution of European improvised music over the decades, this box set can do an excellent job encapsulating it. Among its contents there's a shortage of aggressively abstract nonreferential music and of what jazz scholar Kevin Whitehead calls "new Dutch swing," but a clear division nonetheless emerges between muscular all-out blowing and relatively gentle, gestural improvising. The latter can be heard as early as 1977, on a duo recording by guitarist Stephan Wittwer and trombonist Radu Malfatti, and as recently as 2010, on a duo by cellist Tristan Honsinger and guitarist Olaf Rupp.
For most of FMP's history Gebers has been at the helm, though for a few years in the early to mid-70s a collective of musicians - including Brötzmann - shared the job with him. Producing and recording concerts and releasing albums was never profitable for FMP, and Gebers held down a day job as a social worker. In fact he talked so often about throwing in the towel and leaving FMP that the subject comes up in several of the essays and personal reflections in the box set's jam-packed 218-page book - by Chicago reedist Ken Vandermark, American critic Bill Shoemaker, and German critics Bert Noglik and Wolf Kampmann, among others. But someone, typically Brötzmann, usually talked him out of retiring. The book also includes a complete illustrated discography of FMP and its subsidiaries SAJ, Uhlklang, and OWN, plus an alphabetized artist roster and comprehensive listings and lineups for the many festivals and series FMP presented.
At the end of 1999, Gebers stepped down and handed FMP to a longtime acquaintance, Helma Schleif, partner of reedist Wolfgang Fuchs - a decision he came to regret. According to Kampmann's essay, Schleif was supposed to restrict herself to releasing and marketing music through FMP Publishing - an entity distinct from FMP itself, which would cease to exist - and wind down the operation within a few years. The Total Music Meeting, as well as the other concerts and workshops affiliated with FMP, were to be discontinued. In part this was because in 1997 Gebers had persuaded government officials to temporarily exempt FMP from funding cuts by explaining that the label would soon be a shadow of itself, no longer presenting the events on which it spent most of its state money. Schleif not only continued to organize live-music events but allegedly violated her licensing agreement with FMP Publishing, provoking it to terminate its contract with her in 2003. Gebers began a long fight to regain control of the company, finally prevailing in 2006. He resumed releasing quality music, but he was no more eager to keep running a label than he had been when he bowed out years before - and the legal battle had exhausted him further.
FMP has sent me promotional copies of plenty of its releases over the years, but not one has included any press materials. FMP: Im Rückblick - In Retrospect was no exception. I heard through the grapevine, not from a source at the label, that the box was FMP's swan song - so I contacted Gebers to confirm. This time, he says, it really will close up shop. At least it's going out in style.
from: Chicago Reader, February 3, 2011


Nick Cain
FMP Im Rückblick - In Retrospect 1969-2010
What a note to go out on. After more than 40 years of activity, Berlin’s Free Music Production, one of the great free jazz and improvised music labels, is shutting up shop. To mark the occasion they’ve issued this weighty LP-sized box set, wrapped in a mottled taupe-grey reminiscent of both paving stone and tombstone slab, housing a dozen albums, half of them reissues, the other half new. They’re joined by a thick, 12” square 216-page book, jam-packed with seven essays, an illustrated discography, a musicians’ index, a complete concert listing and a generous selection of archival photos.
The only FMP release to rival its ambition is Cecil Taylor In Berlin ’88, an 11CD document of the pianist’s residency in the German capital. Im Rückblick, however, is epochal for less auspicious reasons. The past decade has been disastrous for FMP. In 1999 Jost Gebers, having run the label for the better part of 25 years, had decided to take a well-earned retirement. But after granting the label’s licensing and marketing rights to a third party, a dispute over the terms of the agreement developed, followed by a legal battle. FMP ground to a painful halt, releasing nothing between 2003 and 2007.
All of which makes Im Rückblick feel like a parting shot, an attempt to exorcise a decade’s bad memories, an impression Gebers happily confirms. His exit strategy is firmly in place: digital versions of the label’s LPs and CDs will be sold via US website Destination Out. He also concedes cryptically that the selection of albums tells a kind of story about FMP. A sampling of this size can only ever partially summarise the four decades and more than 300 releases which preceded it, but it does suggest thematic threads, and in its way addresses misperceptions, making quiet but telling points.
Several of the artists who are indelibly associated with FMP - “musicians of the first hour”, Gebers once called them - are healthily represented. Im Rückblick bursts out of the gates in spectacular style with a 16-strong line-up of the Globe Unity Orchestra. Baden-Baden ’75 (FMP CD 137) bundles together a track from an LP on Paul Lovens’ Po Torch imprint with four unreleased pieces from the same November 1975 sessions which yielded Pearls (1977, FMP 0380)). The following five discs also date from the 1975-77 era, an intensely prolific time for the label, when material for more than 30 albums was recorded at a rate of about one a month.
Of course Peter Brötzmann is here, his solo debut Wolke In Hosen (FMP CD 141) sounding bracingly raw and direct 35 years later, bop-like runs expanded and exploded into upper-register squealing and squalling acoustic distortion. As are the Schlippenbach Quartet, with bassist Peter Kowald the fourth wheel. At Quartier Latin (FMP CD 140) collects half of Three Nails Left (1975, FMP 0210) and all of The Hidden Peak (1977, FMP 0410), both of them wonderful to hear. Irène Schweizer and Rüdiger Carl were also there at the beginning, and Messer und… (FMP CD 139) documents their short-lived trio with drummer Louis Moholo. Steve Lacy wasn’t, though his 1975 date Stabs was the first FMP album led by an American, a reminder that the label’s engagement with US musicians began long before the late 80s Taylor bash. Room is made for heretics as well as visitors: listening to Radu Malfatti and Stephan Wittwer’s Und? plus.. (FMP CD 142) is just about an anthropological exercise, so categorically has Malfatti since renounced improvisation in favour of composition and a radically reduced vocabulary.
The 80s get a brief look-in with Fred Van Hove’s Piano Solo, (FMP CD 143) a pairing of two uncompromising and at times witheringly intense albums, Prosper (1982, FMP/SAJ-39) and Die Letzte (1988; FMP/SAJ-58). We’re catapulted into the 90s with Close Up, (FMP CD 144) a predictably fiery 1994 set from the Brötzmann-assembled all-star quartet Die Like A Dog - Hamid Drake, William Parker and trumpeter Toshinori Kondo. Then it’s a lateral leap to Manfred Schulze, whose handful of albums for the label melded free jazz and serialist composition. Recorded in 1998, the Bläser Quintett’s Choral-Konzert (FMP CD 145) juxtaposes polyphonic choral melodies with passages of gruff reed honking.
Manuela+’s Live In Berlin (FMP CD 146) follows, a quartet of Carl, Carlos Zingaro, Jin Hi Kim and FMP mainstay Hans Reichel. Flecked with references to various ethnic musics, their pan-global Improv is a long way from Messer, but FMP is a label which has grown with its musicians. Nor is the worldly focus a surprise - a succession of albums by west African percussion ensemble Africa Djolé were released on the SAJ sub label in the 70s and 80s. The late Peter Kowald’s Was Da Ist (Live) (FMP CD 147) is an eloquent distillation of his 1995 solo opus and a poignant memorial. The final disc Stretto (FMP CD 148) - the aggressive and intelligent duo of cellist Tristan Honsinger and guitarist Olaf Rupp, second- and third-generation FMP artists respectively - none-too-subtly highlights the label’s generational inheritance.
Any narrative thread to be found is no more than tentative, but the liner notes, in particular a respectful yet pointed piece by Felix Klopotek, supply valuable background. A string of anecdotes - stories of disagreements, missed opportunities, ego clashes, fights between blues and jazz fans at a 1969 concert where Alexis Korner and a Schlippenbach Nonet reluctantly shared the bill - add further colour. Several pertinent historical reminders are served up: of the label’s roots in the left-wing politics of the late 60s; of its Cold War-era efforts to promote the work of east German jazz musicians; that the concerts it staged were just as important as the releases, if not more so - and that the two worked in tandem to attract and nurture an international network of improvisors, as potently symbolised by the Globe Unity Orchestra.
But most of all, the context they provide testifies eloquently to the day-to-day dedication which sustained what an early Schlippenbach album termed “the living music” for so many years in the face of financial struggles and organisational travails. Until state funding became available in the 90s, Gebers had a full-time job as a social worker and (incredibly) ran FMP in his spare time. The income earned by his then-wife Dagmar - whose monochrome reportage-style photography is featured on multiple FMP releases - was entirely sunk into the label, a bespoke financial arrangement which allowed it to survive and thrive when other imprints lost momentum or gave up altogether.
As for the music itself, these dozen albums are testament to the quality of the FMP catalogue, past and present. A cursory leaf through the discography confirms the almost dizzying number of touchstone albums lurking within. Im Rückblick reclaims a legacy tarnished by a disappointing decade, and issues a salutary reminder of what and how much Gebers and FMP have achieved. There’s no self-aggrandisement - this is a label with little notion of self-mythology and no taste for PR. And the candid and matter-of-fact documentation Im Rückblick provides explains how they achieved it: through passion, belief and an unyielding commitment to the music, sustained against significant odds over a period of decades.
from: The Wire # 325, March 2011


Derek Walmsley
Abenteuer in der freien Musik
This week’s edition of Adventures In Modern Music - 9:00pm - brings you forty years of free jazz history from the FMP label, on the occasion of their final ever release, the career-spanning 12 CD box set FMP im Rückblick - in Retrospect. The Free Music Production label rose out of the rubble of Berlin in the late 1960s, and played a key role in European free jazz over the coming decades. Derek Walmsley will be playing selections from in Retrospect, and talking to Peter Brötzmann about his close involvement with FMP and its co-ordinator Jost Gebers.
from: Resonance104,4fm, February 10, 2011


François Couture
To celebrate its 40th anniversary, the venerable German label and production company FMP (Free Music Production) has released a HUGE boxset: 13”x13”x2”, 10 lbs, with 12 CDs (each in its own jewel case), and a 218-page 12”x12” book. Gigantic and visually stunning (see the photographs). The CDs feature previously unreleased recordings and reissues of LPs that hadn’t made it to the CD format yet. I’m starting to dig into this set today and, since the records will also be available separately, I will comment on them one by one.
from: Monsieur Délire.com, February 9, 2011


Stef Gijssels
While in Munich, Germany, ECM celebrates its 40th anniversary, with the publication of a great catalogue in Japan, up in Berlin, in the north of the country, FMP (Free Music Production), equally celebrates its 40th anniversary, with an impressive 3.5 kg 12 CD box and 218 page book.
If ECM stands at the cradle of sophisticated post-bop, with impressionistic and often sentimental leanings, with music that often appeals to broader audiences, FMP stands for the other bifurcation in the road, the one of free improvisation, often wild and harsh and uncompromising, delving deep into the expressive possibilities of sound, be it by solo musicians or improvising big bands such as the Globe Unity Orchestra, often more authentic, more revolutionary in nature than the colleagues of the south. If ECM innovates within our sonic comfort zones, FMP innovates outsides our sonic comfort zones. Of course, like every comparison, this one is also flawed, as many musicians appear on both labels: Dave Holland, Arild Andersen, Marion Brown, Jon Christensen, Marilyn Crispell, ... and this is just the beginning of the alphabet.
But FMP will carve out its position in music history with musicians such as the great Germans Peter Brötzmann, Alexander von Schlippenbach, Rüdiger Carl, Ulrich Gumpert, Günter "Baby" Sommer, Peter Kowald, at that time already building bridges between East and West Berlin, through music, creating the European - German - side of jazz and free improvisation : a little less entertaining than American jazz, more cerebral, angrier, dissatisfied, but exploring and exploring for new sounds for a new world.
They built bridges to the other musicians in Europe and in the US, with names such as Evan Parker, Han Bennink, Misha Mengelberg, Fred Van Hove, Steve Lacy, William Parker, Butch Morris, Bill Dixon, Cecil Taylor, ... joining ideas, making them bounce and interact in new creative avenues.
The book describes it all: the history, an overview of all concerts and workshops, the entire catalogue with cover art, musicians and recording dates ... a real treasure trove for the fan.
The box comes with 12 CDs, of which most have been released before with the exception of CD 1, CD 8, CD 9, CD 10, CD 11 and CD 12, and the entire collection gives a great idea of the span of the FMP catalogue.
I believe the number of boxes was limited to 1,000 copies, but all CDs can be purchased separately. And trust me, many - if not all - of these CDs are must-haves. The ones I enjoyed the most are Globe Unity Orchestra, Peter Kowald solo, Schlippenbach Quartet, Die Like A Dog, Steve Lacy solo.
from: Free Jazz Blog, February 7, 2011


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