1. Lute Suite in C Minor, BWV 997: I. Prelude (Arr. A-Flat Minor)
2. Lute Suite in C Minor, BWV 997: II. Fugue (Arr. A-Flat Minor)
3. Lute Suite in C Minor, BWV 997: III Sarabande (Arr. A-Flat Minor)
4. Lute Suite in C Minor, BWV 997: IV Gigue (Arr. A-Flat Minor)
5. Lute Suite in C Minor, BWV 997: V Double (Arr. A-Flat Minor)
6. Prelude, Fugue and Allegro in E-Flat Major, BWV 998: I. Prelude (Arr. D-Flat Major)
7. Prelude, Fugue and Allegro in E-Flat Major, BWV 998: II. Fugue (Arr. D-Flat Major)
8. Prelude, Fugue and Allegro in E-Flat Major, BWV 998: III. Allegro (Arr. D-Flat Major)
9. Prelude in C Minor, BWV 999 (Arr. D-Flat Minor)
10. Fugue in G Minor, BWV 1000 (Arr. A-Flat Minor)
Harvey Valdes: Electric guitar
Compositions by Johann Sebastian Bach
Produced by Harvey Valdes. Recorded by Harvey Valdes February 28th to March 9th, 2021 in Brooklyn NY. Mixed by Todd Carder with Harvey Valdes at The Bunker Studio. Mastered by Alex DeTurk. Cover photo by Harvey Valdes, design by Cameron Mizell. CD design by Ben Walker. Photo of Harvey by Shervin Lainez. Release Coordination by Cameron Mizell.
With Local Folklore, Guitarists Cameron Mizell and Charlie Rauh Offer a Feast
for the Ears and Songs for the Heart
Local Folklore—to be released by Destiny Records on October 29, 2021—takes listeners down familiar roads but ends up in fresh destinations, each with its own inhabitants, lessons, and stories to tell
“The guitar playing of Charlie Rauh and Cameron Mizell is both sensitive and virtuosic, weaving together haunting phrases with precision and grace.” – The Museum of Americana
In their book, Metaphors We Live By, linguists George Lakoff and Mark Johnson propose that human thought is largely metaphorical. Given that our lives are made of feelings, experiences, and practices, metaphors serve as necessary tools for understanding these immaterial prerequisites of the human condition. The authors call this process “imaginative rationality”—a fitting term for the contradictory nature of our existence, which relies equally on that which can be held and that which slips through our fingers. It also happens to aptly describe the music written, produced, and performed by guitarists Cameron Mizell and Charlie Rauh, whose latest recording stands poised to dive into a fresh pool of narrative prowess. If the opening track, “Local Folklore,” from which this album borrows its title, is any indication, listeners can expect to regard a canvas onto which personal mythologies drip from acoustic brushes as organically as ripe fruit falls from a branch. With a poetic edge that evokes Ralph Towner and a homegrown fortitude that tips its hat in the direction of Pat Metheny, these sounds ensure us that we are exactly where we need to be.
Photo by Courtney Sultan
This is no small feat, considering that the musicians recorded these ten meticulously rendered tracks remotely until a greater whole was achieved. Notes Rauh of the repertoire, “These songs take inspiration from the understated stories we keep alive through sharing memories, experiences, and wonder with our communities.” Mizell shares this sentiment: “This album is especially personal to us. The songs are inspired by close relationships and the people who help us get through challenging times, whether that’s our families, friends, neighbors, or each other.” Such a message, though perhaps more prescient than ever in a world indelibly marked by an invisible virus (itself made understandable only by the grace of metaphor), is as timeless as the melodies it inspired.
Hence, the free and easy charm of “Old Sardis Road,” a weathered tune by Mizell co-written with friends Russell Holland and Drew Pitcher that epitomizes the Americana spirit at hand. Other Mizell originals this time around include “Greenwood Waltz,” inspired by two of his students, and “On Sundays I Walk Alone,” born out of the ritualistic walks that kept his mind clear throughout the pandemic. In addition to its beauty, it’s an artful example of the delicate electronic hues woven throughout the album. Rauh, too, offers his fair share of stolen summers in the form of “Arolen,” a melody he used to hum as a child growing up in Alabama, and “A Single Cloth,” which takes its name from Rainer Maria Rilke’s Book of Hours and was written in celebration of a close friend’s wedding.
These influences and more speak to the duo’s organic rapport. Says Rauh of playing with Mizell, “In addition to just having a great time, I always feel pushed to try new approaches to the instrument as well as songwriting because his creativity is so deeply personal.” And Mizell of playing with Rauh, “We’ve played together so much over the years that I sometimes believe I can anticipate what he’ll do, only to be surprised by something new, yet still so uniquely Charlie. Our shared value of authenticity has driven our musical relationship to a very honest place on this album, and I am a better guitarist for it.”
If much of this was already obvious on their last project, What We Have In Common, it is alive in spades throughout this follow-up.
The album’s vital organs are housed in Pardonsburg. The aptly named southern Virginia town plays host to the creations of writer (and Rauh’s sister) Christina Rauh Fishburne, whose novel-in-progress lends inspiration to a handful of cinematic turns. Fishburne is no stranger here, as she contributed the cover art to Rauh’s EP, The Silent Current from Within, for which her brother also wrote tunes inspired by her poetry. On Local Folklore, one encounters a range of emotional portraits, from the war-trodden hearts of “Jed’s Theme” and “A Forgiving Sort Of Place” to the antic touch of “Petey and Kyle” and the escapist “Rita’s Theme.” These vignettes prove just how intimately nostalgia and trauma are connected and how Fishburne’s narrative constituted a vital third presence to the proceedings.
Regardless of where one sets their feet in these streets, the unforced musicianship of our guides leaves plenty of bread crumbs to follow. Their uncanny ability to make real life feel like a dream and fictional places feel like home is the wonder of Local Folklore and its creators. As artists who flow with time instead of against it, they know that the umbilical cords of our lives are only truly severed when our last breath runs its blade across them.
Photo by Courtney Sultan
About Cameron Mizell
Brooklyn-based guitarist and composer Cameron Mizell, has been part of the diverse New York City music scene for over a decade, performing in a wide variety of genres from experimental improvisation to bluegrass musicals, salsa bands to solo jazz guitar. He has become an in-demand sideman and session guitarist due to his chameleonic musicianship, professionalism, and easygoing nature. As a band leader and solo artist, Mizell has released eight albums in the past 17 years, ranging from jazz-funk to Americana to avant-garde experimentalism, and has collaborated with or produced artists on dozens more recordings. His latest solo effort, a meditative album titled The Order of Things, is a cinematic trip through ambient and post-rock textures, melodies, and improvisations. Recorded in March and April of 2020, shortly after New York City’s COVID-19 lockdown procedures were put in place, The Order of Things was created to find balance and calm through slow, purposeful, meditative music. Said New York Music Daily of the result: “Quietly and efficiently, Mizell has put together a remarkably tuneful, eclectic, understatedly cinematic body of work. In a world overpopulated by guys who play a million notes where one would do, Mizell’s economical, purposeful style stands out even more.”
About Charlie Rauh
“Charlie Rauh plays guitar with a quiet intensity, each note and chord ringing with purpose,” writes Acoustic Guitar Magazine. “Rauh gives a gentle reminder that playing soft and slow can be more impactful than loud and fast.” With these words, we find ourselves in the company of a musician whose imprint is as delicate as it is indelible. From his humble beginnings growing up in Huntsville, Alabama, to the daunting New York City music scene of which he has since become a part, Rauh has dedicated his life to extolling the wonders of sonic art. After cutting his teeth as a sideman on everything from pop, rock, folk, and R&B to country, electronic music, and jazz, he made his solo debut with Viriditas, welcoming listeners into his distinctive folk-inspired atmospheres. He draws further from the world of poetry, ranging from Anna Akhmatova to the Brontës. The latter were the theme of his 2020 album, The Bluebell, which brought about a new chapter of his introspective approach. As a support musician, Rauh works with a variety of artists across several genres, both as a touring sideman and a studio musician and arranger. He is currently signed to Austin-based label Destiny Records.
1. Local Folklore
2. Petey & Kyle
3. Old Sardis Road
4. Jed's Theme
5. A Forgiving Sort Of Place
6. Rita's Theme
7. Greenwood Waltz
8. Arolen
9. A Single Cloth
10. On Sundays I Walk Alone
Cameron Mizell: Acoustic and Electric Guitar
Charlie Rauh: Acoustic Guitar
Produced by Cameron Mizell and Charlie Rauh
Recorded by Cameron Mizell and Charlie Rauh in Brooklyn, NY from November 2020 to July 2021
Presence, the new album by pianist and composer Brad Whiteley, is out on Destiny Records. The melodic and textured release, the New York artist's second as a leader, highlights 11 original Whiteley compositions played by and a stellar NYC band including tenor saxophonist Michael Eaton, electric guitarist Tom Guarna, double bassist Matt Pavolka, and drummer Kenneth Salters
“New York pianist-organist Brad Whiteley offers more than a smart record. He shows us how it’s done.”
– DownBeat on Whiteley’s debut Destiny album, Pathless Land
Brad Whiteley has made a name for himself as a musician’s musician, a New Yorker who makes everything sound better – whether as the longstanding keyboardist in alt-pop star Regina Spektor’s group, as keyboardist in the pit band of Broadway musical Avenue Q, or as music director and organist for the Church of the Blessed Sacrament in the Bronx, not to mention playing keyboards or programming synths for recording sessions of every stripe. Above all, Whiteley – as pianist, composer and improviser – has the soul and touch of a jazz musician. For his debut album as a leader, Pathless Land, he earned a four-star review from DownBeat, with magazine also making the Destiny Records release an Editor’s Pick in June 2014 – dubbing Whiteley “an exciting young artist to watch.” Now, this ever-busy performer releases his sophomore Destiny album as a leader – the dynamic, melody-rich Presence – on October 5, 2018. Bringing 11 of his original compositions to vibrant life, the pianist-composer-producer leads a band of ace New York players: Michael Eaton (tenor saxophone), Tom Guarna (electric guitar), Matt Pavolka (double-bass), and Kenneth Salters (drums). Presence incorporates a world of influences into a warm, engaging whole, with Whiteley’s hook-filled writing and fluid pianism leading the way. All About Jazz, praising the concision and accessibility of Whiteley’s music, has marveled at how “easy and enjoyable” his brand of jazz can be – qualities that continue on Presence, even with the pianist’s increasing ambitions as a composer and bandleader. Above all, Whiteley seeks to convey “the power of song.” He says: “That’s a lesson I learned on the road performing with Regina Spektor. Her band is like a small chamber ensemble, and even playing the material night after night around the world, I never tire of her songs, because they’re just so good. I’ve worked with a lot of singers now – not only Regina, but also Kellylee Evans, Ben l’Oncle Soul, workshops for a musical with David Byrne – and it’s all about the song, heightened by the performance. With Presence, I strived for the tunes to be as strong as possible, with the composed material on equal footing with the improvised parts. And I always play to the core of a song when improvising, thinking melodically and structurally. I also learned lessons about the power of song in my gig with the church in the Bronx – each number you play is an attempt to move people, spiritually and emotionally. That’s something I keep with me in whatever music I play.”
Whiteley’s jazz piano playing has been influenced by icons from Duke Ellington to McCoy Tyner and beyond, as well as by such players on today’s scene as Brad Mehldau and Edward Simon. Presence brims with tracks that are object lessons in alluring, melodic contemporary jazz (“Everything Changes,” “When We Met,” “Sunset Park”); there are flowing ballads (“Presence”) and rhythmic workouts (“Demagogue”). Other tunes draw subtly on such far-flung inspirations as the mysterious modern jazz nexus of Paul Bley/Carla Bley (“Dawn”), the sly tunefulness of John Lurie’s classic downtown band the Lounge Lizards (“A Dark Day”) and the catchy riffs of ’90s alt-rock (“Sinking Feeling”); then there are hints of motoric Krautrock (“Dusk”), vintage drum’n’bass (“The Unwinding”) and rollicking R&B (“K-Car Funk ’83”). The artfully textured arrangements of Presence are tailor-made for the top-flight band, with the players having close connections. “Reflecting on the breadth of material I drew on for inspiration makes me realize how much I appreciate the group on the record,” Whiteley says. “Each player was great at adapting to the different styles and bringing his own approach to the tunes. I’ve known Michael Eaton for 16 years – we met at Indiana University. It’s special to have such a long musical relationship with a friend. He’s an amazing musician, who has huge ears and perfect pitch, as well as an open mind about music and the world. I love the guitar tones Tom Guarna produced for this record, and he fits in so well, from the free sections to his soaring solo on the title track. Matt Pavolka also sounds incredible – I love the way he grooves on all of these styles, from drum’n’bass to free to swing. Kenneth Salters, who also played on my first album, is one of my oldest friends in New York City, plus one of the best drummers I know. He makes it seem effortless, from complicated polyrhythms to straight-ahead grooving.”
The Presence sessions made for a virtual Destiny Records family affair, with Eaton, Salters and Guarna each having previously released albums as leaders via the label. As a sideman, Whiteley played on the Destiny albums by Eaton and Salters (not to mention releases from the label by guitarist Cameron Mizell and trumpeter Jon Crowley). Whiteley and company recorded Presence in the spacious, state-of-the-art A room at Avatar Studios (now the Power Station of BerkleeNYC), with the pianist producing and George Shalda engineering. “That room is like a temple for music – so many classic pop and jazz albums were recorded in that big space,” Whiteley says. “Working in that room added something extra special to the day. George captured the sounds incredibly well, so that each instrument sounds totally alive – plus his mix really breathes and has a nice stereo field. I feel lucky to have recorded in that space with George.” The title of Presence stems from Whiteley creating the album while his wife was expecting. “The new ‘presence’ is here now, and she is going to be 2-years-old soon,” the pianist explains. “So, the title refers to having a child come into your world, but it also touches upon the idea of being present in the musical moment, even during the chaos and excitement of becoming a parent. Being fully present and genuine while writing, performing and collaborating with other musicians is what leads to the most meaningful music-making, it seems to me. That ideal of being present in the moment also extends to performing for people – I want to be aware of the audience and open to the people listening. After all, when it comes to music, listening is pretty much everything.”
Brooklyn-based pianist, organist and keyboardist Brad Whiteley has performed on stages from London’s Royal Albert Hall and the Sydney Opera House in Australia to New York’s Radio City Music Hall and the Greek in Los Angeles, not to mention such Manhattan jazz clubs as Smalls, the 55 Bar, Smoke, and the Jazz Gallery. He has been the keyboardist of the Regina Spektor Band since 2012, and he has worked with a wide range of other international artists, from jazz (saxophonist Dave Liebman and singer Kellylee Evans), pop (singer-songwriters David Byrne and Ben L’Oncle Soul), film (composer Alan Silvestri) and musical theater (performers Darius de Haas and Lena Hall). Whiteley released his debut jazz album as a leader, Pathless Land, via Destiny Records in 2014; the disc, which showcased him in trio settings on both piano and Hammond B-3 organ, earned praise in publications from DownBeat and All About Jazz to Jazz Weekly and Lucid Culture. He has also appeared on five other Destiny jazz albums as a sideman: Michael Eaton’s Individuation and Dialogical; Kenneth Salters’ Enter to Exit; Jon Crowley’s I Walk Amongst the Humans; and Cameron Mizell’s Negative Spaces. Already a veteran performer on television, Whiteley has appeared on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert, Late Night with Jimmy Fallon, The Late Late Show with James Corden, The Colbert Report, The Late Show with David Letterman, The Tonight Show with Jay Leno, Good Morning America and CBS Saturday Morning. He also composed the music for, and appears in, the PBS Learning Matters show School Sleuth. Whiteley has been the music director and pipe organist of the Church of the Blessed Sacrament in the Bronx since 2010, and he has performed as keyboardist in the pit band of Avenue Q on Broadway since 2017. Born in 1980 and a native of Upstate New York, he received his master’s degree from the Indiana University School of Music and his bachelor’s degree from DePauw University, with further studies at the Mancini Institute, the Banff Centre and Aspen Music Festival.
For his sophomore album, pianist Brad Whiteley delivers Presence, a set of artfully textured originals tailormade for his top-flight band featuring Michael Eaton on tenor saxophone, Tom Guarna on guitar, bassist Matt Pavolka, and longtime drummer Kenneth Salters, who also played on Whiteley’s debut, Pathless Land. That album, an Editor’s Pick for DownBeat in June, 2014 in which critics dubbed Whiteley “an exciting young artist to watch” set the stage for the pianist as a composer and improvisor. Presence takes Whiteley’s artistry to a new level, demonstrating his ability to incorporate a world of influences into a warm, engaging whole, led by his hooked-filled writing and fluid pianism. The album is also somewhat of a Destiny Records family affair. Eaton, Guarna, and Salters have each released their own albums as leaders on the label, and Whiteley has filled the piano/keyboard chair on five Destiny albums aside from his own. Recorded at the world-renowned Avatar Studios (now the Power Station at BerkleeNYC) by Destiny’s own George Shalda, the outstanding musicianship of Presence shines with impeccable warmth and clarity.
Feeding Goats is the musical brainchild of Michael Hafftka (guitar) and Yonat Hafftka (theremin). Michael Hafftka is a well-known visual artist—his paintings are part of the permanent collections of The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Museum of Modern Art, Brooklyn Museum of Art, San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, and others worldwide. The motivations and explorations that drive Hafftka's process as a painter are evident in his music. The long-form improvisation of Dreamtime, Feeding Goats’ seventh album and first for Destiny Records, is a perfect example of his creativity expressed through music. Yonat Hafftka's theremin, sounding at times mystical and eerie, other times barking and percussive, is the perfect foil between the guitar textures of her husband, and of guest guitarist Cameron Mizell. Mizell brings his expertise with loopers and effects to create a wide palette of sounds for his fellow improvisors, who in turn present him with musical questions to answer and answers to question. In addition to his work with Feeding Goats, Hafftka composes music for his art installations and collaborations with other artists. The next collaboration is with Vortice Dance Company in Portugal. Dreamtime was recorded and mixed by Yonat Hafftka at Feeding Goats Studio in Brooklyn, NY and mastered by Mike Shields in Austin, TX.
Guitarist Cameron Mizell Releases a Beautifully Produced, Melody-Minded Trio Album, Negative Spaces, via Destiny Records on October 7
Mizell’s fifth release finds the Brooklyn-based guitarist joined by kindred-spirit keyboardist Brad Whiteley and drummer Kenneth Salters in a set of irresistible originals
In the liner notes to Negative Spaces, the writer recounts a conversation he had with its maker, guitarist Cameron Mizell, about how it is absence as much as presence that defines music. Mizell explained: “As musicians develop their skills, the focus is on creating sound. Get the note out of the instrument, and then repeat… fill the silence with your sound. But there comes a point where you have to learn not to play. If you play constantly, the most memorable moment of your performance will be the time you didn’t play. An artist understands this and knows how to ‘play’ rests, how to let a musical idea breathe, develop and tell a story.” This ideal underscores the title of Negative Spaces, Mizell’s fifth album, a trio disc with kindred-spirit keyboardist Brad Whiteley and drummer Kenneth Salters, to be released on October 7, 2016, by Destiny Records.
The spaces between the notes are indeed as vital as the notes themselves on Negative Spaces, with an emphasis on less is more; the magic of this music lies in melody, the catchy tunes hinting at not only vintage jazz but rock’n’roll and all manner of Americana, with Mizell’s guitar ‘singing’ a set of irresistible instrumental songs. If “Big Trees” can evoke Bill Frisell in his avant-folk mode, the track “Take the Humble” is the sort of song that should make Steely Dan green with envy, the playful, syncopated tune seemingly tailor-made for some sly Donald Fagen lyrics. “On my past trio records, I composed from the groove up, but I wrote the songs of Negative Spaces from top down as if I were a vocalist, away from my guitar, with pen and paper,” explains the 36-year-old, Brooklyn-based Mizell. “I even transcribed singers like Sam Cooke to get into how they phrased a melody. The idea with a lot of improvised music is to see how far out you can get. But with this album, I wanted to rein it in, create singable melodies and allow room for music to happen around them.”
Negative Spaces follows Mizell’s Destiny album from 2015, The Edge of Visibility, an atmospheric solo EP that All About Jazz praised as “hypnotic.” The review in No Depression extolled the album’s virtues at length: “Combining improvisational jazz with traces of progressive rock and avant-garde experimentalism, Mizell explores the sounds of the dreaming and waking world. This is a thought-provoking album, one that lingers in the memory long after it has ceased spinning.” On The Edge of Visibility, Mizell created an enveloping aura of sound with only his customized Fender Telecaster, looping device and various tone-bending, oscillating effects. His playing remains gorgeous on the new trio album, yet the sound and gestures are leaner, even more dynamic. Negative Spaces still has a lush overall feel, with Mizell’s guitars complemented by Whiteley’s variety of keyboards: Hammond organ, Wurlitzer, piano, synth bass and Fender Rhodes. On drums, Salters can go from sounding like a full percussion section to adding apposite touches with only brushes.
About his trio partners, Mizell says: “Both these guys are such amazing, open-minded musicians. I met Brad 15 years ago playing in a big band at Indiana University, and he has been on each of my group records. He’s so versatile, playing synths with Regina Spektor and playing organ for mass in a cathedral in the Bronx, not to mention leading his own groups on piano. He always serves the music, being able to shred but not always feeling compelled to show it. If I’m the ‘singer’ on this record, then Brad is the ideal accompanist. Kenneth has crazy chops, too, but he’s also about favoring musicality over technique. In the song ‘Clearing Skies,’ he orchestrates this long, slow burn ideally; he stokes the dynamic energy of a track as well as any drummer I’ve heard.”
Negative Spaces ranges from ambient-accented ringing chords in the pair of title tracks to the rocking funk of “Get It While You Can.” The near-epic “Clearing Skies” features one of Mizell’s most dramatic guitar lines, while the groove of another album highlight, “Barter,” suggests John Scofield at his slinkiest. The title of “Yesterday’s Trouble” came from a phrase that the grandfather of Mizell’s wife liked to use, one that struck the guitarist as like a quip from a Tom Waits song. “I’m not Marc Ribot,” Mizell says, “but the playing in that track was my nod to the gritty, quirky sound he has given a lot of Tom Waits songs.” With the continuity of favorites from Frisell’s Disfarmer to Pink Floyd’s Wish You Were Here in mind, Mizell created melodies that echo and complement one another, imbuing the album with a satisfying, suite-like sense of unity.
To Mizell, music should also reflect the wider world. There are subtle sound effects – birdsong, kids playing, a boat horn – recorded in his Brooklyn neighborhood, along with references to personal experiences and special places. The song “Whisky for Flowers” got its title from Mizell’s customary exchange with his wife, who has become a connoisseur of bourbon, buying it for her husband as he buys her blossoms. Mizell’s wife was also the ideal sounding board for the sensibility the guitarist was trying to cultivate with Negative Spaces. “She’s my barometer for the writing and playing of music like this – chops don’t matter to her, not a bit,” he says. “If she hums something later that I’ve played her, I know I’m on the right track. And she hummed tunes from this record a lot.”
Cameron Mizell
Guitarist-composer Cameron Mizell, a Brooklyn resident for the past decade-plus, was born and raised in St. Louis and educated in music at the University of North Texas and Indiana University. In New York City, he has played with rock bands, singer-songwriters, bluegrass acts and Latin groups, as well as for Broadway musicals and dance companies. He has also worked in the music business on the label side, with years at Verve Records and, as label manager, Destiny Records.
As a bandleader, Mizell has ranged from jazz-funk to Americana, recording the album Tributary in 2010 with his trio featuring keyboardist Brad Whiteley and drummer Kenneth Salters. Prior to that, Mizell released a trio disc with Whiteley and drummer Mike Fortune, Life Is Loud, in 2007. The guitarist made his debut on record with an eight-piece ensemble for Cameron Mizell, released in 2004. His most recent release before new trio record Negative Spaces was a ravishingly atmospheric album for solo guitar, The Edge of Visibility, from 2015.
In 2008, Mizell decided to combine his knowledge of the industry with his understanding of life as a musician and put it to good use. Together with Dave Hahn, Mizell founded the website Musician Wages, which offers music industry advice geared toward the working musician. The site has become a thought-leader in the musician community thanks to Hahn and Mizell’s commitment to integrity, practicality and an honest perspective from their own careers.
Cameron has kindly asked me to say a few words about Negative Spaces, since I was there when he got the idea for it. Am I a musician? No. I’m a dentist with chronic insomnia and an almost debilitating interest in space. But let’s get on with the story.
It all started with the Cosmos series. After tossing and turning one night I decided a show about science would be just the thing to put me to sleep. But I ended up watching for hours, mesmerized by space—how its not just some empty thing we move through but that it can bend and twist and invert itself and all this other stuff. I finished the series in three nights but I couldn’t stop thinking about space. So I bought one of those little beginner’s books, A History of Space that Doesn’t Take Up Much. Stupid title, I know, but it was fascinating.
It started with ancient philosophy, but the only thing I remember about that part was Plato’s idea that there was a sort of receptacle that acts as a cradle for the cosmos—as if even space had to have some other kind of other space to happen in.
The really great stuff, though, was about the scientific revolution. Isaac Newton said space was real and absolute, the way most people think of it. But he had this German rival Leibniz who said space wasn’t really a thing at all but was just our way of understanding the relations between things. And apparently this debate never really ended and scientists like Mach and Einstein went on arguing about it into the twentieth century. That last part about modern physics was a bit over my head, I admit. But the gist of it is that instead of small particles we now think of the cosmos as composed of a bunch of tiny strings of different length vibrating at different frequencies. Still though, nobody knows if the strings produce space or if, like Plato said, there has to be some kind of space already there for the strings to be in. But I think my favorite bit was something Newton said about space being like the sensory apparatus of God. How crazy is that—we’re all here moving around and bumping into each other without ever suspecting that we’re really inside God’s central nervous system!
So one morning I call Cam, who might have been up already, and get him to meet me for coffee. “We’re gonna talk about space again, aren’t we Hector?” Indeed. So he lets me go on for a few minutes and I’m doing my best to sound like I’ve been thinking about this stuff for more than a couple weeks. I notice this guy at the table across from us—a real ancient mariner type, thin and with a gnarly dark beard. In profile I could see his brown eye revolving slowly around the room. He was nodding along sometimes like he was listening to us. It was really eerie. And he was nodding at the wrong times, like he was hearing the conversation with a ten-second delay. Or maybe he was hearing it in advance. Was that even possible? I looked at Cam and motioned to the old sailor with my eyes. “You’re paranoid Hec.” Fine, so I went on with my little space jam.
Finally I asked him what he thought. “Listen, unless you’re Stephen Hawking you’re probably not going to understand space just by thinking about it.” I admitted I was no Steve H. So what do you do? “You get to know space by learning how to manipulate it. For me that’s about music. People always associate music with time but when I’m playing I usually think about space. Groove doesn’t exist without rests and harmony is as much a sum of pitches as it is the absence of others. Melody has to be phrased between pauses, just as intonation is determined by the space between pitches.” “Bring it down a little, man. I played the recorder for like two months.”
“Okay, think of it this way. As musicians develop their skills, the first thing they learn is to play. The focus is on creating sound. Get the note out of the instrument, and then repeat it until you can do it consistently. Fill the silence with your sound. But there comes a point where you just have to learn not to play. If you play constantly, the most memorable moment of your performance will be the time you didn't play. The artist understands this and knows how to play rests, how to let a musical idea breathe, develop, and tell a story. Without negative spaces, music would be…” “Noise,” I said, happy to fill in the blank. “Sure, why not.”
I slowly let the idea of negative spaces sink in. “Right, so you make meaning through a pattern of negative spaces—a poetry of precise absences.” Come on, that’s pretty good for a dentist! I went on in my most scholarly voice: “It reminds me of the Australian aborigines. For millennia people have discovered shapes in the Milky Way, but they were the only ones who found a pattern in the darkness between the stars. A pattern of negative spaces in the shape of an emu.” “Yeah, I know. I saw Cosmos.” Should have quit while I was ahead. But now that the ball was rolling we came up with more and more examples—from music and language to sex and sound and trees and the deep web. Some were better than others.
And all the while the old sailor’s head moves up and down thoughtfully, like he’s right there with us. I saw him take a bottle of Wild Vines out of his jacket pocket. No cap. Guess he didn’t need it. As he takes his swig he turns his whole face to us and for the first time I notice he’s got one brown eye and one blue one. And one of those old Roman noses. I always notice noses because an ancestor of mine wrote a book about them. He puts the bottle away and slowly says “En-ri-que.” I guess it was his name but he said it more like it was a comment on something. Then this young waitress walks by and you could see his head turn. The old sailor had a wandering eye. Which one?
“Look at the light shine through that!” he says. What? “They go all the way up!” “Her legs?” “Nawh man the spaces! Sexiest part of a woman, professor. And it ain’t even there! Put that on the list.” And with that the ancient mariner left us, if he was ever even there. I couldn’t believe it. “This is a sign. Obviously. We need to write this up. A theoretical study of negative spaces, with chapters on the cosmos, the human body, and the arts and sciences. It’s going to mean lots of long nights but we can do it. It’s what Enrique would want.” Cam wasn’t convinced. “Come on, man, I need this. I need something to do and I’m so fucking tired of teeth!”
