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Vietnam - The Aftermath

Billy Bang

Vietnam - The Aftermath

Label: Justin Time | Jazz | October 30, 2001
Format
UPC
Order #
Unit Price
CD
068944016525
JUST 165-2
$ 18.99
Credits


Ron Brown
percussion (on tracks 04, 06 and 08)


Ted Daniel
trumpet (on tracks 01, 03, 04, 05 and 08)

Sonny Fortune
flute (on tracks 07 and 08)


Frank Lowe
tenor saxophone (on tracks 04, 05 and 08)





Production Credits

Conducted by Butch Morris (on track 04)



Tracks

No
Title
Duration
Excerpts
01
Yo! Ho Chi Minh Is In The House
00:10:46
02
Tunnel Rat (Flashlight And A 45)
00:06:47
03
Moments For The KIAMIA
00:09:51
ogg   mp3  
04
TET Offensive
00:07:06
05
Bien Hoa Blues
00:10:24
ogg   mp3  
06
Mystery Of The Mekong
00:07:20
ogg   mp3  
07
Fire In The Hole
00:09:07
08
Saigon Phunk
00:12:29

Liner Notes

This project has been in my mind for at least thirty years. My inability to bravely confront my personal demons, my experiences in Vietnam, has been a continuous struggle. For decades, I’ve lived constantly with my unwillingness to deliberately conjure up the pain of these experiences. At night, I would experience severe nightmares of death and destruction, and during the day, a kind of undefined ambiguous daydream. By allowing these awkward and unfathomable feelings to lie dormant in some deep dark place, I was able to tolerate my frankly vegetative way of living. It was preferable somehow - and safer - to let these monstrous thoughts imbedded in my unconscious to remain in that state – inactive.

This was the sad state of my life, which made it easy for me to seek an artificial comfort in drinking and drugs. But one afternoon, about a year and a half ago, I was speaking on the telephone with Jean-Pierre Leduc of Justin Time, my record label in Montreal, Canada.

I was speaking with Jean-Pierre about an upcoming recording project when out of nowhere, he said to me, “Billy, I don’t want to offend you, but would you considering doing a recording about your experiences in Vietnam?” My entire body and mind came to an immediate halt. Hesitating, I felt a cold shiver pass through my body. I responded with, “I’ll need to think about this - I’ll get back to you.” A few days, passed, perhaps even a week, until I returned Jean-Pierre’s phone call, which expressed to him that I thought I was ready, willing, and able to embark on the Vietnam project.

My immediate concerns were whether or not I was in fact strong and courageous enough to accept this challenge. The possibility of getting rid of the dark side that forever haunted me outweighed the pessimistic thoughts I had carried with me all those years. I knew I was faced with the monumental task of transforming my Vietnam experience, and all its attendant emotions, into a solid body of music. The overall sadness of losing close friends in combat is not something that many experience, and to write eloquently of my trials and tribulations, of growing from a boy of nineteen and becoming a man, a soldier, in that God-forsaken war, has been a supreme challenge. I can now sincerely say in retrospect, that writing, rehearsing, and recording this project was extremely therapeutic. I can honestly say that I’ve recovered the innocence of my spirit and soul again. Thanks to Mr. Leduc, and all at the Justin Time Records label, as well as my fellow vets (there are six playing on these compositions) and the other fine musicians.

Billy Bang, New York City, September 2001



I first met Billy Bang after we recorded Bang On!, his Justin Time debut, and we then worked closely on Big Bang Theory. At the time, I didn’t realise Billy was a Vietnam veteran. I did know that I really enjoyed speaking with him. In addition to having been there (not to mention done that), he’s an exceedingly kind and pleasant fellow. After we spoke about his experiences that day on the phone, I was fascinated. I knew he’d made some great recordings, but I also sensed that the record of his life was still inside him somewhere. When we got to the studio, I could not believe the depth of the compositions he’d written – and neither could anyone else. When John Hicks, one of my favourite pianists, was equally floored, I knew it wasn’t just my imagination. The seriousness of the sessions and Billy’s tireless efforts to get the right performances from each musician told me he’d heard this music, breathed it, for months, and he was determined to document it, to immortalise it – and above all, to share it with the world.

Since we made the recording, the world has changed. The events of September 11th were frightening for everyone, and continue to be. One can only imagine what it was like for Billy, who left Vietnam in 1967 to settle in Manhattan, to wake up one autumn morning in 2001, thirty-four years later, six weeks before the release of this recording, to hear the news. For Billy, it was as though Vietnam had come to Manhattan. Life is indeed bizarre. A filmmaker who is interested in making a full length documentary about Billy’s experiences in Vietnam was actually at the World Trade Center that morning, but luckily was spared. Spirit is something that people are talking about a lot these days. Overcoming adversity is another. Billy Bang, I believe, has a lot to say about both.

Jean-Pierre Leduc, Montreal, October 2001


These eight evocative compositions, all Billy Bang originals, draw heavily on the tonal and harmonic elements of Southeast Asian music, but are all conceived in the jazz tradition, from blues to the abstract.

Michael Carvin's drumming smoothly combines both traditions with his swinging pulse sometimes punctuated by the crashing bursts of cymbals that often occur in Asian music. Complemented perfectly by the deep resonance and woody hues of Curtis Lundy's rock solid bass, the rhythm section is rounded out by the brilliant piano artistry of John Hicks.

Hicks, a consummate pianist, equally comfortable in down-home Gospel, straight-ahead, or the totally adventurous, powers any ensemble and here drives the outstanding soloists to explosive heights, while turning in fine solos of his own.

Trumpeter Ted Daniel is outstanding on five tracks, especially in his blistering solo on the swing-grooved "Tunnel Rat (Flashlight and a .45)."

Incredible reedman Sonny Fortune also brings his dynamic flute work to the proceedings. On "Mystery of the Mekong," his full-bodied, shakuhachi-like sound blends wonderfully with the violin on the lovely, mysterious and wistful melody. He also shows his virtuosity with a powerful solo on the sizzling "Fire in the Hole."

Hard-blowing tenorman Frank Lowe joins Daniel and Bang in the frontline on the comfortable groove of "Bien Hoa Blues" and the rollicking "Saigon Phunk," delivering the muscular, passionate solos that are his hallmark.

He's also present on the provocative and arresting "TET Offensive," a swirling piece of scorching intensity that runs the emotional gamut of fear, excitement, pain, horror, and ultimately, a tentative calm. Under the skilled conducting of Butch Morris, the abstract, brooding, frenzied and sometimes terrifying work becomes a highly compelling and often disturbing experience.

The emotional gravity and deep feelings that Vietnam: The Aftermath stirred up in Bang are irrefutably evident in his brilliant playing throughout. His heart-wrenching solo on the mournful dirge, "Moments for the KIAMIA" (an acronym for "killed in action" and "missing in action"); the smoldering fire on the vamp-driven "Yo! Ho Chi Minh Is In the House;" and the twisting fragility of his brief interlude that closes out "TET Offensive" are perfect examples.

But the revelatory solo on "Saigon Phunk," searing, scraping and screaming in a liberating moment of frenzied escape from the nightmarish onslaught of war, brings this profoundly meaningful work of art to a close - and a sense of closure for its creator.

Billy Bang, who's recorded nearly two dozen albums as leader or co-leader, including five with The String Trio of New York (which he co-founded); and who has graced dozens more for artists ranging from Bootsy Collins to Sun Ra, has created a masterpiece. And one that is most timely at this period in all our lives.

Marty Khan, Tucson, Arizona, October 2001


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