WHERE “ECHO FUTURISM” AND “POST-POETRY” COHERE: FANOPLANE’S IMPROVISATIONAL ALBUM, LIVE AT THE BLACK CAT! (2025)

 

The houses DOT DOT DOT !

Live Album Follows a Fabulous Night

It would have been enough just to take the stage at the legendary Washington, D.C. music venue, the Black Cat, on October 11, 2024, as the warm-up act for nationally-touring trio Xiu Xiu, which Fanoplane did, myself included. It would have been enough to receive a rowdy welcome from the evening’s young audience—three or four hundred deep—who encouraged us to pursue numerous soaring expressions during our set. I, for one, encountered a rare feeling of joy during the performance, and that, alone, would have been more than enough, except we made a recording of the show, entitled (what else?) Live at the Black Cat! Fanoplane released the record at another iconic Washington, D.C. music venue, Comet Ping Pong, a few months later in February, 2025.

I always alight upon jazz saxophonist John Coltrane as the bandleader who delivered the finest live recordings (at the Village Vanguard) but in fairness there are more candidates in jazz and other genres. Several factors can distinguish a live album, including the unpredictable heights of the musicianship as influenced by the setting, the obvious engagement of the concertgoers, or even an important social context. To my surprise, there exists another album with the same title as ours, save the exclamation mark. “Scream,” anyone? Said punk band released Live at the Black Cat in 1998. Unlike John Coltrane, Scream, and virtually any other musicians, however, Fanoplane does not rehearse any songs. We have no repertoire. We improvise everything. Now, I will not weigh Live at the Black Cat! against any other records, but I will try to build towards our “creative thesis” as a group. What makes us tick?

Gerry Mulligan agitates against “free jazz” (1962)

Complete Freedom Without Order

Speaking of jazz, a music critic by the name of Ralph Gleason hosted a nationally-televised show, Jazz Casual, in the 1960s. Running for several years and more than 30 episodes, the show presented many of the jazz greats in a format that blended performances and interviews. In 1962, “cool jazz” saxophonist Gerry Mulligan appeared on Jazz Casual, leading a quartet that played four songs. The brief clip (above) comes from the show’s interview segment. When asked about “freedom” in his music, Mulligan responded cautiously by saying that “attempts at […] complete freedom are chaotic” and that jazz is attractive, in part, because it is orderly. Mulligan concluded the thought by saying, “you can’t truly have freedom unless you’ve got order to begin with.” Hmmm. Hmph.

To be sure, Fanoplane is not a jazz band, but I have frequently returned to Mulligan’s statement about “freedom” and “order,” because it offers a compelling choice between two opposing mindsets: (1) Freedom within order or (2) Freedom without order. Pick a side! Mulligan was likely agitating against certain “currents” in jazz that began to take shape in the late 1950s, perhaps best epitomized by an important 1960 album—Free Jazz: A Collective Improvisation—by Ornette Coleman. Jazz of course began as an inherently improvisational form in New Orleans as championed by the incomparable Louis Armstrong, among others. Ornette’s improvisations may have sounded quite different than those pioneered by “Satchmo” but, in their own way, I believe they hearkened back to a similar principle.

Fanoplane at Comet Ping Pong in February 2025 (photo by Mike Zito) 

You could argue that all professional music has some order to it by virtue of the training, rehearsals, and performative experiences that the musicians have likely undergone. You could argue that the instruments themselves present a certain kind of order since they are physical entities that must be played competently enough to communicate with an audience. Indeed, we in Fanoplane observe certain customs whilst onstage, foremost among them, listening to each other. I am fond of saying that we are a cooperative, hence, we cooperate. Surely, this is a bit of structure. As are the stage, the lighting, the monitor, the green rooms, and the complimentary cans of grape soda and/or craft lager that have been very kindly placed in the very same green rooms, ahhh.

And yet, I would argue that Fanoplane otherwise presents “complete freedom without order.” Our album Live at the Black Cat! offers powerful evidence that the multivariable aspects of our performance could resonate with an audience that had no way of developing any advance expectations for the music they would hear. We often roll in a deep groove with powerful refrains but we have no idea, really, what will happen once the music begins. We are an improv group made up of eight bandmembers, each of whom improvises. I have taken the liberty to assemble the following phrases—“echo futurism” “noise bop” “post-poetry” “free punk” and “avant electrics”—which you could shake together in a paper bag for 30 minutes or so, and then, perhaps, you might approximate some sense of Fanoplane’s creative gestalt.

Have Yourself a Listen

Live at the Black Cat! (and all associated credits) can be found at Bandcamp, where it can be downloaded for “name your price.” You can also listen at Apple Music and Spotify. Any proceeds go to the “band fund” which helps us exist, promote, and create future ruckuses. The co-leaders of the group are Ted Zook and Bob Boilen; the rest of the bandmembers are Doug Kallmeyer, Jerry Busher, Patrick Whitehead, Brie Anderson, Maya Renfro, and myself. Check us out. You could start with Track 4 aka “The Houses…” which I am “mouthing” at the top of this post if you please or go in order. Either way, and in the words of the immortal Duke Ellington, we want you to know that we all love you maaaaadly.

Want more Fanoplane? Check out Praise Poem

Fanoplane at the Black Cat in October 2024 (photo by Mike Zito) 

PRAISE POEM FOR THE IMPROVISATIONAL COLLECTIVE FANOPLANE (OF WHICH I AM A MEMBER.)

 
L to R: Brie Anderson, Patrick Whitehead, Bob Boilen, Yours Truly,
Ted Zook, Jerry Busher, and Doug Kallmeyer. Photo by Mike Zito.   

On October 11, 2024 the improvisational band known as Fanoplane found itself chilling in the green room at the Black Cat, a storied music venue in Washington, D.C. The mini-fridge in said enclave bore the stickers of the many bands who had waited there on other nights in anticipation of their sets. We helped ourselves to a tidy assortment of red grapes and green apples. We quipped that we had made “the big time.” It felt quite nice to be there.

Perhaps owing to our unconventional sound, the venue had chosen us to open for Xiu Xiu, an experimental rock group with a national following. The foundation of “our unconventional sound” revolves around two key details: we have no repertoire and we frequently feature a large mixture of instruments. We rehearse, but we have no songs. Fanoplane invents new pieces every time it takes the stage. Co-led by Ted Zook and Bob Boilen, the personnel may vary from show to show. It may present with two members, or, as with the Black Cat appearance, it may perform as a septet, or still other combinations.

In addition to Ted (electric cello) and Bob (electronics), the musicians on October 11^th included Brie Anderson (guitar), Patrick Whitehead (trumpet), Jerry Busher (drums), and Doug Kallmeyer (bass). For my part, I did (I always do) words. My affiliation with these extraordinary musicians dates back several years to previous incarnations of related improv bands, including Lost Civilizations and Heterodyne. While these groups have performed at several other iconic venues—including Baltimore’s An Die Musik and DC’s Velvet Lounge—the Black Cat would have to be the “biggest” space with the largest audience: as many as 300 people watched us take the stage. 

This 360-degree video produced by Bob Boilen (an excerpt from the show) can be rotated
by dragging your mouse or finger. I personally get a little crazy between 10:30 and 10:45.

Those in the audience impressed me. They were young and open-minded; individuality abounded. They had not paid to see us, no, they had come for Xiu Xiu, and yet, they pressed up to the stage and wanted to groove, they wanted us to groove, they wanted the band to discover them amid the groove and stay close, just like that, interlinked. The audience spurred us forward. They gave the warmup act their full attention and allowed themselves to be surprised by our mayhem.

Despite my frequent appearances with Fanoplane and its ancestor bands, I can’t predict exactly know how a song will begin. Perhaps our beloved co-leader Ted Zook will saw across his basscello, but the budding moments may spring out of the entire collective sort of testing out their instruments. We all make eye contact, nod our heads, and then we realize that the new piece has commenced. None of the musicians seeks to dominate the proceedings. Fanoplane bandmates know when to drop down a bit, and conversely, when to step into a “lull.” Everybody plays—and everybody listens. It is a cooperative, so we cooperate. 

Oi.

Similarly, my role as “words” may be to suggest a new idea or a thumping new beat but just as often I will adapt my delivery (and my choice of material) to the established cadence and/or tone. As much as I enjoy my contributions the group, I equally cherish listening to the other bandmembers. Thus, we “shape” a performance.

On October 11^th, I’d say that Fanoplane discovered a few new things, none more heartening than our connection with a vibrant young audience. We also found a foothold within a certain system of vivid overlaps and speculative forays, or to put it another way, our seven selves meshed musically, transformed into separate shapes altogether, before untethering entirely from our own expectations. As if we were clouds, then people, then rain.

Want more Fanpolane? Check out Where “Echo Futurism” and “Post-Poetry” Cohere

MICROPHONE MAYHEM: MY TWO MONTHS AS “WORDS” AMONG THE EXTRAORDINARY MUSICIANS WHO FORM THE HETERODYNE MUSIC COLLECTIVE.

Falafel Sandwich Induction Ceremony

I first witnessed Heterodyne at St. Stephen’s Church (D.C.) last October. The band had appeared as part of a “punk rock benefit” to raise funds for a worthy social services organization. In addition to core performers Ted Zook and Maria Shesiuk, four other musicians had arrived to swell the band’s membership. A landscape, a tableau, a panorama ensued, and the bandmates climbed around in that scaffolding without compromising the ethos of ensemble cohesion. They listened to each other. I listened to them listening to each other. I wanted in, and after enduring a grueling application process—just kidding; it mostly involved lunching on a falafel sandwich in Baltimore—I appeared with Heterodyne in early November.

How I Violate the Band’s Basic Premise

At a minimum, Heterodyne performs as a duo. Ted plays basscello and Maria plays Moog synthesizer. Anybody who they invite to contribute as a guest performer, can contribute as a guest performer. The band might feature three (we three performed at the Lutherie in Baltimore during my inaugural appearance in November) or it might feature as many as seven. There are no “tunes,” plural. Each time it plays, the group creates one original, improvised, continuous song that it does not—cannot possibly—rehearse. As “words,” I arrive with prepared texts, and in this way, I violate the band’s basic premise, even as I shuffle the texts throughout. To recite from memory would still violate the premise and to speak extemporaneously would terrify everyone. 

Maria and Ted

The Heterodyne Sound

Maria builds a city at every engagement: a grayscale terrain filled with partial signage, the simultaneous focusing and unfocusing of ideas, and an invigorating sense of desolation. (Too, the moonlit curtain of possibility hovers throughout the fluidity of this terrain.) Enter the guests—Patrick Whitehead, Leah Gage, Doug Kallmeyer, Amanda Huron, Sam Lohman, Bob Boilen, and Sarah Hughes—who inhabit the space that Maria has built, in phrasings that mesh the truest experiments of the American idiom. The dot dots of the trumpet, the murmurs of synth, the horizon of strings, the indivisible odds of percussion, and the undeniable impulse and curvature of the saxophone. In particular, the women of Heterodyne have really astonished.

                                                          

Ted Zook

Ted, of course, contributes mightily to the Heterodyne sound. He begins, he presides, he saws away, he fingers the strings, and he, quite importantly, offers us all a thoughtful level, when we take a moment to repurpose. He rudders, he nods, he does and doesn’t conduct(s). I’ve known Ted for many years, and his stature as a Great Musician and a Gentleman cannot be underscored enough. Ted organizes the group offstage. He keeps Heterodyne swimming in gigs. He “porters” a generous aesthetic that empowers the collective to search. And when I say “porters,” I am punning a little bit on one of Ted’s other well-known qualities—that he arrives at each performance with, and hauls, and installs, and debugs a considerable amount of gear! 

Heterodyne at Dew Drop Inn, January 18, 2018. L to R: Ted Zook (basscello)

Amanda Huron (percussion), Maria Shesiuk (Moog), and Bob Boilen (synth.)

What We’ve Learned As a Band

Individually and collectively, we say “Coltrane” far too often for it to be a coincidence. This—cross-genre collectiveness—is the future of all things. During our two-month stretch, we appeared at ten iconic venues, including An Die Musik in Baltimore and Velvet Lounge in D.C., but our performance at VisArts in Rockville may have been tightest. We have invented many, many meanings of the color “preternatural.” Personally speaking, I didn’t do my best work. Too often, I read whole pieces, when I should’ve stuck to scraps and syllables. I can, however, write for a band like Heterodyne. There is a new kind of integrated art possible, and as someone who has searched, for years, for community, this realization may (literally) save my (literary) life.

Coincidentally, Heterodyne Is a Poetry Term, Too

Nobody understands the “poetry heterodyne,” and thus, it sits dusty in encyclopedic spaces. Purportedly, dear reader—purportedly!—the poetic heterodyne occurs when a physically shorter syllable receives stress (or pitch change) ahead of the physically longer syllable. (So sayeth the Princeton Encyclopedia of Poetry and Poetics.) It’s not half-mad to think that way, in “telling it slant” (per Dickinson). The better-known definition of heterodyne involves the creation of new frequencies by combining two frequencies. I have seen that firsthand in Ted’s and Maria’s partnership, only they are taking it further, in combining as many as seven frequencies all at once. I am very grateful they allowed me the opportunity to add my frequency to the ruckus.

Recordings & Links

Recording at VisArts, 12/1/2017 

Recording at Rhizome, 12/14/2017 

Recording at Velvet Lounge, 12/22/2017 

Recording at An Die Musik, 1/11/2018 

Recording at Dew Drop Inn, 1/18/2018 

Heterodyne Tumblr page 

Heterodyne Facebook page 

this post is part of a triple issue.

Also see: Sarah Hughes

Also see: Joy On Fire

Praise Poem for the Music and Musicianship of Marian McLaughlin and Heterodyne: Mariya Shesiuk and Ted Zook

The Venue & the Principals

At Baltimore’s impressive Four Hour Day Lutherie, a multi-purpose establishment where the practice of making stringed instruments meets the practicing musicians who make stringed and other instruments “go forth to song”, guitar player and singer Marian McLaughlin shared the bill on November 2nd with the improvisational project Heterodyne, formed by Mariya Shesiuk (keyboards, synthesizer, voice) and Ted Zook, basscello. Since Heterodyne invites an extended family of guest performers to join their appearances, I eagerly joined as “words.” In my experience, small performance spaces often facilitate some of the most indelible displays of musicianship, and this event at the Lutherie would hardly derail such a theory.

Marian McLaughlin

Marian McLaughlin might describe herself as an experimental folk musician, and to that, I’d add a few humble thoughts about her indigenous connection to guitar as well as her kindly relationship with audience. One could ponder the mastery of technique when watching Marian play and one could ponder the inevitable well of her abundant discoveries. I’d wager on the inner life of the artist, the sincere weights of her process, the implicit prevalence of her storytelling and imagery. What devotee of Debord would fail to register her travels through numerous stations of keen hypothesis? Marian’s beckoning voice can be observed in a constellation that clearly unifies audience members, the enviable concertgoers who thirst for this warmth of communion. 

Heterodyne: Mariya Shesiuk and Ted Zook

Heterodyne doesn’t simply certify a state of urgency. The consequential partnership between Mariya and Ted establishes itself in a vaulting appraisal that situates listeners amid dilemma, some parts nocturnal, some parts urban-nocturnal, some parts the fluidity of human resourcefulness attempting to achieve salvation, boot-sock, boot-sock. Even as our social contracts wobble, even as alarms signal the absence of meaningful doctrine, the music of Heterodyne proposes the kind of ambient elasticity that can enroll all the wayward bodies who might otherwise drift toward despondency. Optimism, we are reminded, cannot be the province of superficiality, but could accompany the exacting genesis envisioned by Mariya and Ted.

For a free recording of Heterodyne (plus “words”) at the Four Hour Day Lutherie, click [here]

There Will Be Additional Ruckus

The very same lineup will renew the ruckus on November 16, 2017 at The Dewdrop Inn, at 8:00 p.m., in Washington, D.C. Come see Marian McLaughlin and Heterodyne (plus “words”) as we stamp our sawing & yodeling, etc., onto worthy square footage of metropolitan terrain. Huzzah!

resurrection week editorial schedule:

Notes (for Sonnet)

“Great White Water” (Shaker)
“Cozy’s Mambo” (R&B Shaker)

Marian McLaughlin & Heterodyne

Sonnet (for Clarice Lispector)

THE WORDS AMIDST THE MUSIC: LOST CIVILIZATIONS + DUO EXCHANGE RENEW THE RUCKUS.

Lost Civilizations, from left to right: Leah Gage, 

Mike Sebastian, Patrick Whitehead, and Ted Zook

I hope that listeners will pardon my loud “Oi! Oi!” at the beginning of the first set, but I borrowed that riff from the Sleaford Mods song, “Middlemen”, in order to quieten our garrulous audience at the Black Squirrel, November 15, 2015. A fabulous renewal of the Lost Civilizations + Duo Exchange collaboration ensued. For each gathering, Rod Smith and I provide the words (the “Duo Exchange”) amidst the music, and we always label the most recent outing “the best”, this one without hesitation. Connoisseurs of our collaboration may recall that we script nothing in advance. The music as well as the poems find their own order as the event flows forward.

For a free listen of the first set (39 minutes) click [HERE]

For a free listen of the second set (33 minutes) click [HERE]

Ted Zook (basscello) and Mike Sebastian (saxophones) form the core of the Lost Civilizations Experimental Music Project, to which they invite guest musicians. On this night, Leah Gage sat-in on drums, and Patrick Whitehead joined on trumpet and flugelhorn, making us a six-member outfit. Rod and I attempt to build a city—many voices and humors—every time Duo Exchange sets out, and yet, no matter how much we may anticipate the evening’s trajectory, the music inspires us not only for its abiding quality, but also for the many surprising ways in which the musicians might push, embolden, and shape our performance. 

At times, we might’ve noted the manipulation of silence and the occupation of part-spaces. At other times, we might’ve caught the discordant caucusing in advance of one instrument prevailing. The Big Sound might’ve staggered us, the declarations of agreement that fronted and trailed synthesis. Did Lost Civilizations swing? Oh yeah, I think so. The musicians answered questions—with brassy, reedy, thumping, sawing language—in need of responses, only we had no knowledge of these questions before the performance began. We broke the surface of the evening, vastly replenished.

Rod Smith (left) and the blogger as Duo Exchange

Lost Civilizations reminds us, aptly, that counter-culture hasn’t yet suffered permanent misplacement, and that art, if untethered, represents our best avenue for salvation. Two writers had to fit together, and four musicians had to fit together, and six people had to fit together, in music and verse, and we did, fit. If you attended the show, if you listened to one or both sets, if you read this little review, thanks, and on behalf of Lost Civilizations and Duo Exchange, in the spirit of Duke Ellington, we love you M-a-a-a-dly!

A FEW REFLECTIONS ON DUO EXCHANGE + LOST CIVILIZATIONS LIVE.

I’m not aware of another project quite like the Duo Exchange / Lost Civilizations collaboration, which was renewed on August 16th in front of a small gathering at the Black Squirrel in Washington, D.C. The musicians who form Lost Civilizations—Ted Zook (basscello) and Mike Sebastian (saxophones)—improvise from the beginning; on this night, Sam Lohman accompanied them on drums. The words—Rod Smith and I doing business as Duo Exchange—have no predetermined order. The entire performance, clocking in at just over sixty minutes, invents and reinvents. For a free listen (and free download) at SoundCloud, click [HERE].

Rod and I continue to experience amazement (even awe and euphoria) over the accomplishments of the musicians. It’s hard not to think of language like “tensile sway, swing-swang, magical fracture, muscular patterning, projective texture” when listening to them. For me, the night created at least three maps: (a) the music; (b) the words; and (c) the two layers together. As a reader, I’m always stunned at when the music pushes me to deliver language with emphases and cadences I hadn’t counted on; these effects undoubtedly bounce back and forth from Us to Them, from Them to Them, and from Us to Us. The learning curve is steep and enormously gratifying.

On this night, I should point out that we were joined by a fellow who, attracted by the music, came downstairs to participate a little bit. You can hear him in the 47th minute, as well as when he repeats a word (“honky”) from the grand finale. Did I mention that we had a grand finale? Rod and I both spoke at the same time as the band honked, rattled, and sawed, from about 47:50 through 52:05. I’m not saying you should fast-forward there, automatically, but you should know that it’s coming. In all my years of writing and reading, I never before experienced the raw satisfaction as I derived therefrom. I’m very fortunate to be a part of this collaboration.

Finally, I’m reminded of a jazz hero—Sonny Rollins—and one of his great songs, “St. Thomas”—as Lost Civilizations played onward. I want to say St. Sonny. Oh yeah!