Anthony Braxton

小簡(jiǎn)介
可愛(ài)的容格試圖為幻覺(jué)經(jīng)驗(yàn)做辯護(hù)，他對(duì)詩(shī)人的透徹理解使他剝開(kāi)了陰暗世界的神秘。詩(shī)人夸張的暗示在人們習(xí)慣了誑語(yǔ)的深夜發(fā)出進(jìn)攻，那是真正的不可一世，以排山倒海的精神放縱述說(shuō)每個(gè)人心里面都存在的自由。
Anthony Braxton昂著頭，嘴里塞進(jìn)了一把向外發(fā)射的現(xiàn)代火炮。這是一個(gè)鮮血淋淋的早晨。城市還是以往日的姿態(tài)修改著每個(gè)人身上的記號(hào)，機(jī)械地、下賤地在無(wú)常的通道里釋放著一些老舊的野心。Anthony Braxton有做室內(nèi)樂(lè)的功底，一些不可能的事實(shí)被婉轉(zhuǎn)地告訴了我們。我想我們都會(huì)發(fā)瘋，是我們的妥協(xié)保留了我們的生存機(jī)會(huì)。
他的自由樂(lè)章分成了幾條走向，以扇形的分布向外擴(kuò)散，一直忽這忽那，這種支離破碎的絕妙讓我們無(wú)法平靜，無(wú)法在平常的世界里分解我們的莫名沖動(dòng)。而Anthony Braxton突然間的溫和又令我無(wú)比感動(dòng)，生命里的東西就這樣沒(méi)有理由。
人群是靠氣味相投的。在這樣一座城市里，你發(fā)現(xiàn)沒(méi)人可以傾訴，即使是戴著假面具。
那是一種新鮮，人與人之間的聯(lián)系很快便會(huì)互相無(wú)法忍受。把屋頂打開(kāi)來(lái)，迎接我們瞬間的玩笑。Evan Parker就在這樣的密室里，一笑一顰，如空氣做著鬼臉。他的吹奏彎彎曲曲朝著深處無(wú)限地前進(jìn)。我們做過(guò)很多被迫的事情，讓我們把靈魂里的骯臟晾出來(lái)，我們即刻便瘦得像黑影，隨著Evan Parker的爵士語(yǔ)調(diào)隱匿。
自由的玩意，自由的禁忌，自由的創(chuàng)傷，自由的愛(ài)與恨，隨著形體的敏感一起出沒(méi)。Evan Parker的身份并非是曖昧的，他的吹奏滑潤(rùn)，是很有都市詩(shī)情的。Evan Parker的爵士令我們這些沒(méi)有靈魂的人急著去做一些靈魂的索引。
靈魂的圖書館，靈魂的借閱者，在缺少靈魂出口的地方轉(zhuǎn)圈。
把爵士的現(xiàn)代派當(dāng)作了都市的靈魂。他人死了，我也隨之而亡。
當(dāng)城市里的所謂知識(shí)分子撐大著胃口，我被Evan Parker領(lǐng)著在地面上挖了一個(gè)廢坑。在里面不斷地翻動(dòng)著習(xí)慣，以及可能成為習(xí)慣的東西。這也是都市生活。
這也是都市生活，我們?yōu)榇蓑湴痢?br />你們繼續(xù)成為時(shí)尚的奴隸吧，用你們那雙雙白皙的手抓住一切看得見(jiàn)的東西。
而我，而我們對(duì)此無(wú)動(dòng)于衷，我們?cè)陔[形的地點(diǎn)自由地進(jìn)出。
一切都死了，才有彩色的惡魔拉扯著美麗。
Genius is a rare commodity in any art form, but at the end of the 20th century it seemed all but non-existent in jazz, a music that had ceased looking ahead and begun swallowing its tail. If it seemed like the music had run out of ideas, it might be because Anthony Braxton covered just about every conceivable area of creativity during the course of his extraordinary career. The multi-reedist/composer might very well be jazzs last bona fide genius. Braxton began with jazzs essential rhythmic and textural elements, combining them with all manner of experimental compositional techniques, from graphic and non-specific notation to serialism and multimedia. Even at the peak of his renown in the mid- to late 70s, Braxton was a controversial figure amongst musicians and critics. His self-invented (yet heavily theoretical) approach to playing and composing jazz seemed to have as much in common with late 20th century classical music as it did jazz, and therefore alienated those who considered jazz at a full remove from European idioms. Although Braxton exhibited a genuine — if highly idiosyncratic — ability to play older forms (influenced especially by saxophonists Warne Marsh, John Coltrane, Paul Desmond, and Eric Dolphy), he was never really accepted by the jazz establishment, due to his manifest infatuation with the practices of such non-jazz artists as John Cage and Karlheinz Stockhausen. Many of the mainstreams most popular musicians (Wynton Marsalis among them) insisted that Braxtons music was not jazz at all. Whatever one calls it, however, there is no questioning the originality of his vision; Anthony Braxton created music of enormous sophistication and passion that was unlike anything else that had come before it. Braxton was able to fuse jazzs visceral components with contemporary classical musics formal and harmonic methods in an utterly unselfconscious — and therefore convincing — way. The best of his work is on a level with any art music of the late 20th century, jazz or classical.
Braxton began playing music as a teenager in Chicago, developing an early interest in both jazz and classical musics. He attended the Chicago School of Music from 1959-1963, then Roosevelt University, where he studied philosophy and composition. During this time, he became acquainted with many of his future collaborators, including saxophonists Joseph Jarman and Roscoe Mitchell. Braxton entered the service and played saxophone in an Army band; for a time he was stationed in Korea. Upon his discharge in 1966, he returned to Chicago where he joined the nascent Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians (AACM). The next year, he formed an influential free jazz trio, the Creative Construction Company, with violinist Leroy Jenkins and trumpeter Leo Smith. In 1968, he recorded For Alto, the first-ever recording for solo saxophone. Braxton lived in Paris for a short while beginning in 1969, where he played with a rhythm section comprised of bassist Dave Holland, pianist Chick Corea, and drummer Barry Altschul. Called Circle, the group stayed together for about a year before disbanding (Holland and Altschul would continue to play in Braxton-led groups for the next several years). Braxton moved to New York in 1970. The 70s saw his star rise (in a manner of speaking); he recorded a number of ambitious albums for the major label Arista and performing in various contexts. Braxton maintained a quartet with Altschul, Holland, and a brass player (either trumpeter Kenny Wheeler or trombonist George Lewis) for most of the 70s. During the decade, he also performed with the Italian free improvisation group Musica Elettronica Viva, and guitarist Derek Bailey, as well as his colleagues in AACM. The 80s saw Braxton lose his major-label deal, yet he continued to record and issue albums on independent labels at a dizzying pace. He recorded a memorable series of duets with bop pioneer Max Roach, and made records of standards with pianists Tete Montoliu and Hank Jones. Braxtons steadiest vehicle in the 80s and 90s — and what is often considered his best group — was his quartet with pianist Marilyn Crispell, bassist Mark Dresser, and drummer Gerry Hemingway. In 1985, he began teaching at Mills College in California; he subsequently joined the music faculty at Wesleyan College in Connecticut, where he taught through the 90s. During that decade, he received a large grant from the MacArthur Foundation that allowed him to finance some large-scale projects hed long envisioned, including an opera. At the beginning of the 21st century, Braxton was still a vital presence on the creative music scene.