As I mentioned last weekend when I found the old CD MP3s - Volume 1 in the time capsule, the song Follow Your Heart has a deep emotional resonance for me. The song is from The Joe Farrell Quartet LP, also released as Song of the Wind, the version that I once owned, although it's now more commonly known by the original name. Although it's from a Joe Farrell LP, Follow Your Heart is actually a John McLaughlin composition and I bought the Song of the Wind LP sometime in the early- to mid-70s because it had my jazz-fusion heroes McLaughlin and Chick Corea on it, as well as Dave Holland and Jack DeJohnette. It's a great album with the excellent Creed Taylor production values typical of the CTI Records label, and is still eminently listenable after all these years.
Fun fact: The reason Follow Your Heart is on MP3s - Volume 1 is because back around Y2K, when I was first discovering this "new" music format called the MP3, among the very first songs in that new format that I found to download was Joe Farrell's Follow Your Heart.
Part of what makes the tune so compelling to listen to is the odd time signature. McLaughlin's guitar starts in 3/8 time (1, 2, 3, rest, followed by four more resting beats), until Farrell joins in playing in 8/8 (two 4/4's - 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4), which in turn frees McLaughlin up to add more notes on the resting beats. This is a very subtle use of polyrhythm and results in an overall 11/8 time (3/8 + 8/8). So on one level, Follow Your Heart holds meaning for me as a fondly remembered cut from an interesting album I once owned back some 45 years back.
In 1976, a few years after buying the Joe Farrell record, I arrived at Boston U and found that radio station WBUR was using Follow Your Heart every night as the intro for Steve Schwartz' jazz show. As soon as you heard the distinctive 1, 2, 3 of McLaughlin's guitar following whatever song had been playing before, you knew that Schwartz' program was beginning and that you were in for an evening of discovery and musical adventure. Every night, from 10:00 p.m. to 2 a.m., Schwartz provided the soundtrack to my collegiate studies as well as a welcome distraction from said studies when needed. He played everything from classic Count Basie and Duke Ellington to modern jazz, but concentrated on a lot of hard bop and modal jazz and wasn't afraid of free jazz or the avant garde, and on any given evening he'd take you from some soulful and swinging tunes to the extremes of free expression and sometimes the limits of your tolerance. But it was always an interesting ride and I learned so much about modern jazz music from the man - not only was he a good d.j., but he was also a good and patient teacher, often providing details about the music or the recording or the artist, and often conducting insightful and informative interviews with the musicians themselves. So on top of just being a favorite cut from a cherished album, Follow Your Heart now also reminds me of listening to late-night radio and of my formative years of jazz education.
I should add that Schwartz was a hero to me and I pictured him as the epitome of bohemian cool, all black turtleneck and goatee. But the one time I actually saw him in person, I experienced the kind of identity shock that off-camera media personalities probably trigger in a lot of people. Schwartz was at the 1978 or 1979 annual Jazz All Night marathon at Emmanuel Church, and when I saw him there he looked to me like just a typical middle-aged caucasian with a slight paunch and thinning hair and wearing a Members' Only jacket. Nothing wrong with that, but his very suburban demeanour was enhanced by the fact that for some reason he was also carrying around a Hoover canister vacuum cleaner under his arm. His appearance was so dissident to my impression of him that I actually found it humorous. To me, he looked "funny" and it took me a while listening to him again after that before I could stop thinking of him as clownish.
Now let me make it clear that all this says way, way more about me and my mental formations (samskara) than it does about Steve Schwartz. Schwartz' programming changed the way I heard music, and his nightly lessons on jazz are to me as much a part of my collegiate education as any other aspect of my college experience. Sometime after I left BU and shortly later then Boston, Schwartz left WBUR for Boston NPR station WGBH, the gig with which he is most generally remembered.
Sadly, Schwartz passed away about a year ago, March 25, 2017, at the age of 74. Joe Farrell passed away in 1986 at the age of 48. I didn't know any of that until I began relistening to MP3s - Volume I this week and to Follow Your Heart, and began Googling the names that came bubbling up from long-dormant memories.
Now, the Joe Farrell song is more poignant for me than ever.
Fun fact: The reason Follow Your Heart is on MP3s - Volume 1 is because back around Y2K, when I was first discovering this "new" music format called the MP3, among the very first songs in that new format that I found to download was Joe Farrell's Follow Your Heart.
Part of what makes the tune so compelling to listen to is the odd time signature. McLaughlin's guitar starts in 3/8 time (1, 2, 3, rest, followed by four more resting beats), until Farrell joins in playing in 8/8 (two 4/4's - 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4), which in turn frees McLaughlin up to add more notes on the resting beats. This is a very subtle use of polyrhythm and results in an overall 11/8 time (3/8 + 8/8). So on one level, Follow Your Heart holds meaning for me as a fondly remembered cut from an interesting album I once owned back some 45 years back.
In 1976, a few years after buying the Joe Farrell record, I arrived at Boston U and found that radio station WBUR was using Follow Your Heart every night as the intro for Steve Schwartz' jazz show. As soon as you heard the distinctive 1, 2, 3 of McLaughlin's guitar following whatever song had been playing before, you knew that Schwartz' program was beginning and that you were in for an evening of discovery and musical adventure. Every night, from 10:00 p.m. to 2 a.m., Schwartz provided the soundtrack to my collegiate studies as well as a welcome distraction from said studies when needed. He played everything from classic Count Basie and Duke Ellington to modern jazz, but concentrated on a lot of hard bop and modal jazz and wasn't afraid of free jazz or the avant garde, and on any given evening he'd take you from some soulful and swinging tunes to the extremes of free expression and sometimes the limits of your tolerance. But it was always an interesting ride and I learned so much about modern jazz music from the man - not only was he a good d.j., but he was also a good and patient teacher, often providing details about the music or the recording or the artist, and often conducting insightful and informative interviews with the musicians themselves. So on top of just being a favorite cut from a cherished album, Follow Your Heart now also reminds me of listening to late-night radio and of my formative years of jazz education.
I should add that Schwartz was a hero to me and I pictured him as the epitome of bohemian cool, all black turtleneck and goatee. But the one time I actually saw him in person, I experienced the kind of identity shock that off-camera media personalities probably trigger in a lot of people. Schwartz was at the 1978 or 1979 annual Jazz All Night marathon at Emmanuel Church, and when I saw him there he looked to me like just a typical middle-aged caucasian with a slight paunch and thinning hair and wearing a Members' Only jacket. Nothing wrong with that, but his very suburban demeanour was enhanced by the fact that for some reason he was also carrying around a Hoover canister vacuum cleaner under his arm. His appearance was so dissident to my impression of him that I actually found it humorous. To me, he looked "funny" and it took me a while listening to him again after that before I could stop thinking of him as clownish.
Now let me make it clear that all this says way, way more about me and my mental formations (samskara) than it does about Steve Schwartz. Schwartz' programming changed the way I heard music, and his nightly lessons on jazz are to me as much a part of my collegiate education as any other aspect of my college experience. Sometime after I left BU and shortly later then Boston, Schwartz left WBUR for Boston NPR station WGBH, the gig with which he is most generally remembered.
Sadly, Schwartz passed away about a year ago, March 25, 2017, at the age of 74. Joe Farrell passed away in 1986 at the age of 48. I didn't know any of that until I began relistening to MP3s - Volume I this week and to Follow Your Heart, and began Googling the names that came bubbling up from long-dormant memories.
Now, the Joe Farrell song is more poignant for me than ever.
No comments:
Post a Comment