A Double Dose of Blakes: Ran and Seamus Hold Forth in Chicago

By Michael Jackson I Apr. 28, 2016

Resting on a bench backstage, resembling a silver version of Daniel Day-Lewis, the veteran pianist hosted local admirers, who stood respectfully back as if being received by a deity. Included in the throng were poet and writer Art Lange, who produced Ghost Tones and clarinetist James Falzone, who studied at NEC in the late ’90s with Blake and was his teaching assistant for six months.

After being happily reunited with his mentor after a decade, Falzone commented, “Ran’s sonic journey is immediately apparent in his playing. Every note is honest, intentional and reflective of his life. As his student I learned not to emulate Ran—who can?—but how to reflect my own sonic journey into the music I make. This was not found in any syllabus but in Ran’s persona and in the music itself, which holds many charms.”

A few days later, in the Chicago suburb of Evanston, a not too dissimilar scenario played out at saxophonist and repairman Paul Maslin’s store, PM Woodwind.

Another Blake, saxophone titan Seamus, was road testing a clutch of vintage tenors in front of an informed coterie of local musicians, including Whitney M. Young Magnet High School band director Jim Barbick and respected Chicago tenor man Scott Burns. Maslin was keen to assess which type of instrument was best suited to Seamus, who gave various Selmer Mark VIs, balanced actions and a vintage Conn a severe work out.

It was a rare appearance in the Chicago area for Seamus. The last time I’d heard him in town was with the Mingus Big Band at the Jazz Festival in 2007. On that occasion he’d blown a massive, crowd-rousing solo with a look so intense on his face that I’d assumed he was egomaniacal or slightly crazy. But at this masterclass, Seamus revealed humility, good humor and a generous nature.

Brought into town by bassist and composer Ashley Summers for a recording session with drummer Chris Baker, Seamus had played the previous evening at Joe Segal’s Jazz Showcase, but otherwise it was another coup for Maslin, who has presented numerous stellar workshops for free in a performance space next to his store. Saxophonists Chris Potter, Ernie Watts, Dave Liebman and Jeff Coffin (who once brought his entire band), are but a few of the master musicians who have guested.

The room was packed for Seamus on March 30, but there was slight disappointment for sax geeks eager to hear his mighty blowing, as he talked for an almost an hour and a half before much putting horn to mouth.

Relating what he learned from teachers in Vancouver, the early mentorship of drummer Victor Lewis and even more crucially what he taught himself through obsessive transcribing of Charlie Parker, Sonny Rollins, Bob Berg and Keith Jarrett, Seamus came to appreciate Dizzy Gillespie’s dictum about the three stages of artistic development: imitation, assimilation and, finally, innovation.

During his stint at Berklee College of Music, Seamus rubbed shoulders with such luminaries as Geoffrey Keezer, Mark Turner and Antonio Hart, and was curious about the philosophies of two fellow students, Kurt Rosenwinkel and Roy Hargrove. Rooming with Rosenwinkel, Seamus had been surprised how the guitarist, who had a great ear, didn’t rely on transcribing the material of others but was already developing a singular voice, while tirelessly mining the possibilities of “Stella By Starlight” and “All The Things You Are.”

Intrigued by the way Hargrove seemed to have a natural feel for the moment —“He got in and got out, didn’t overplay,” Seamus said—he politely approached the trumpeter for some pearl of wisdom to which he received the perfunctory response “I make shit up.”

While not entirely disavowing the merits of transcribing the masters and “reverse engineering” their lines in a process of discovery about the jazz lingua franca, Seamus started to discover his own thing—much as his namesake Ran would espouse—by “singing in the shower” and composing and working on music away from the instrument.

With that said, it was met with some relief when Seamus took a glance at the clock, and thinking he had only been holding forth for ten minutes, realized he had better play some.

The knowledgeable audience members had learned a lot from Seamus’ testimony, but were further rewarded with an extraordinary performance of Joe Henderson’s challenging “Inner Urge” in duo with Baker. Screwing eyes closed and working up a sweat, the saxophonist didn’t spare the horses, pushing each chorus into interesting areas of texture, note-play and even use of space.

After returning to his non-fierce saxophone face, Blake described the sprouting tendrils of a successful career in jazz, where one association leads to the next. “Play your ass off, be very dedicated, but honest with yourself,” counseled the mellow Canadian. ”Be a nice guy and show up on time.”