Marginalia: notes in the margins

Marginalia: notes in the margins.

Friends, family, and supporters: I hope that we're all staying healthy, staying sane, and staying indoors. I'm reaching out to share some new music with you.



You can listen on Bandcamp, or wherever you like to listen to music (Spotify, Apple Music, YouTube, etc.)

Cover artwork: Yarrow on Like Water for Chocolate. By Carmen Malis King.

Actually, this music is quite old, but my choice to share it with the world is new. Over the last few weeks, I've been occupying myself by reviewing old recordings that I've made over the years. I discovered these solo recordings from 2016, and I immediately recognized something in them. Something that feels like a part of myself that I rarely let other people see.

These recordings are marginalia -- notes in the margins. They have a feeling of privacy to them, written on the margins of my musical practice. They are annotations to myself; footnotes in the shadows of a developing aesthetic. These recordings feel to me like night; like shadows; like dreams of imagined histories; like benevolent ghosts. I'm sharing them with you to shed light on some small part of myself that mostly lives in the dark.

I hope you enjoy them, and I hope you're staying safe.

Sincerely,

-Michael

Three Pieces for Piano

How are you?


I feel like this social distancing has simultaneously pulled us farther apart and brought us closer together. Of course, it's going to be a while until we see each other. But I'm also struck by the fact that over the last few days, I've been in touch with lots of people who I haven't spoken with in a long time.

That's why I'm offering this new collection of music, Three Pieces for Piano, to you. I want to make sure we stay close during this time of social distancing. I hope it strikes it chord with you, and I hope that you take it with you into whatever bunker you're descending into for the foreseeable future.

Because everyone in the gig economy has been completely decimated in the last week, I'm offering this music for free. But if you have something to share, I certainly won't refuse. Just put in whatever you think it's worth when you check out. Know that I'm deeply appreciative of anything you can give.

And for anyone who is looking to grow as a pianist during this time of isolation, I'm also offering for purchase the sheet music for this entire collection! You'll receive a PDF of the music emailed directly to you. Any sheet music purchases come with a digital download of the recordings.

That's it. Take care everyone, wash your hands, and stay safe! I hope to see you when this all blows over. In the meantime, feel free to drop me a line. I'd love to hear from you.

-Michael

Feature Interview from U of M SMTD

Hey everyone,

A few weeks ago I got to talk to the Excel Lab at my alma mater, the University of Michigan’s School of Music, Theater and Dance. As SMTD’s home base for performing arts entrepreneurship, leadership, and career services, the Excel Lab is helping current U of M students vision their futures in the music industry. I wish the Excel Lab existed when I was a student there.

We chatted about my creative practice, making a living as a working musician, and any advice I wish I could have given a younger version of myself. It was a fun chat. You can check it out here!

,

Spring 2019 Part 3: I Got To Keep Moving

,

Composed by Balance (Michael Malis/Marcus Elliot)
After texts from I Got To Keep Moving by Bill Harris (Wayne State University Press)

Featuring:
Bill Harris — narration
Gerald Cleaver — drums
Marcus Elliot — saxophone
Michael Malis — piano

Most people who have been following my work over the last few years know about my duo collaboration with saxophonist/composer Marcus Elliot, Balance. Our musical relationship goes back a very long time (to our high school days, actually) and he is really like a musical brother to me. We’ve released an album as a duo, but in the last couple of years we’ve also invested time and energy in creating projects that expand our ensemble. These projects feel less like “duo plus” projects, and more like larger visions that Marcus and I co-manage. It’s been a great working relationship, and we definitely have more plans to keep working in this direction. Our collaboration with Detroit Chamber Winds and Strings, which I posted about a couple of weeks ago, is another example of this kind of project.

A few years ago, Guggenheim fellow and legendary Detroiter Bill Harris casually mentioned to us that he’d be interested in collaborating with us one day, we leaped at the opportunity. Bill is someone whose face I knew before I knew his work: his portrait is emblazoned on a building that I passed by almost every day for six years:


It’s a little hard to see in the Google Earth screengrab, but that’s Bill in the bottom right corner. Also featured in this mural by Nicole MacDonald is Sixto Rodriguez (a.k.a. Sugarman,) Robert Hayden, Terry Blackhawk, and other Detroit literary giants. Being on liquor store mural with Sugarman is pretty much the definition of “Detroit Famous.” Simply put, Bill is a legend.

Bill recently released a collection of short stories called “I Got to Keep Moving”, which portray loosely interconnected stories of the Great Migration. They begin on a plantation in Alabama, and trace similar characters as they and their ancestors journey north. It’s a strikingly powerful set, and I cannot recommend it highly enough. Marcus and I took three of these stories and set them to music. In a series of live performances with Bill, we performed while he read. We performed the show three times over the course of the weekend: at the Toledo Museum of Art, at the University of Michigan School of Music, and at the Detroit Public Library Main Branch.

We decided to invite Gerald Cleaver on board to round out the quartet. Gerald is from Detroit, but he and Bill had never met. I was a little unsure of how the group was going to gel, since nobody (other than Marcus and I) had played together before.

All of my worries were quelled as soon as we sat down and played. Bringing Gerald on turned out (predictably) to be a great decision. His playing is completely and utterly phenomenal. Of course, I knew that already, since I’m a major fan. But I wasn’t really prepared for how much fun it was to play with him. His sound on the instrument is inviting and unobtrusive, but strong, solid, and without any ambiguity. His ears are laser-sharp in their responsiveness. I realized over the course of the weekend that, for years, Gerald has been the benchmark that I measure all other drummers against. I didn’t know that I was doing it, but now I know. It was just such a joy to play with such a masterful musician. I feel like playing with him brought my own playing up at least a couple of notches, and he really made the ensemble sound amazing.

The real star of the show was Bill, whose stories are deeply powerful and moving. He was incredible in all of our shows, showing off his skill as an engaging and poignant storyteller. He (and the rest of the band) really found his groove by our third show, at the Detroit Public Library. That show felt like a hometown reunion, and there was an incredible energy in the room. Many of the old Detroit Jazzheads were there. Gerald’s family came out. Some of my students came. A lot of Marcus and I’s friends came. It really lifted my spirits.

We also got a really glowing review in All About Jazz. Here’s a nice quote from Troy Dostert:

“What was most striking about the synergy between Harris and the band was the sheer beauty of the music: the stark contrast between the grim realities of Harris's story and the band's melodic core, located in Elliot's exultant phrases and Malis's evocative runs, was stirring. And much of the music's strength was found in the spirit of resilience and defiance that permeates Harris's text.”

The Detroit show was incredibly well documented. In addition to the trailer posted above, the full performance was shot and I suspect the video will be on the internet at some point in the (hopefully near) future. I’ll make sure to post it. In the meantime, here are some additional photos by Troy Anderson and Steven Stark:

Spring 2019 Part 2: Dividual

Written by Paul Manganello
Music Composed by Michael Malis
Conceived by Paul Manganello and Michael Malis

Of all the artistic collaborators I’ve been lucky to work with in my life, Paul is probably the one with whom I have the longest relationship. Paul, along with his brother Jim, and I, all went to middle and high school together. In fact, I was on stage with both of them in our middle school production of The Music Man (!). I had the honor of singing Shapoopi in that production. There is an embarrassing video that exists on a VHS. If that video got out, it would crush any shred of credibility that I currently hold as a serious musician.

But since middle school, Paul and I have worked together several times. I’ve scored two productions by the theater company that he co-directs with his brother Jim, Fratellanza. Working with Fratellanza always has the tone for me of stretching my artistic sensibilities, and every time I work with them I grow in leaps and bounds.

The project that Paul and I worked on in Cleveland was not a Fratellanza production — we were very clear on that from the beginning. We began this project sometime in 2016, and we got about halfway through what seemed like was going to be a radio play before life got in the way and we had to abandon it. But last year, Paul recommended that we apply to the Cleveland Public Theater’s Test Flight program to try and finish our work. Test Flight is a new play development program that exists to get shows out of the development process and onto a stage. It was a perfect fit for our fledgling piece.

We started thinking about this new, staged version of the piece in earnest this Fall. I knew that I wanted to use this as a vehicle to work in Max/MSP, which is a platform that I’m becoming more and more familiar with. I also knew that I wanted to work with percussion, but that I didn’t have a huge budget to work with. So I took my close friend Costa Kazaleh Sirdenis, who is a woodworker and overall very crafty guy, to a local junkyard. Costa is also a photographer, videographer, composer, and actor, and he helped me find some amazing sounding tailpipes and brake drums. We cut them off cars with an angle grinder and got them cleaned up. I was ready to start working.

This was a fun way to start the project. I ended up recording countless samples of these instruments, as well as a glockenspiel, finger cymbals, and other knick knacks. These sounds became one of the primary sound worlds of the show.

Paul and I spent the winter conversing over the phone (he lives in Los Angeles now.) He would send me drafts of the script, and I would send him some of my sonic creations. He would record a demo of himself reading the script, and I would send him back a few different versions of different scoring options. This worked to get us to a starting point, but when we arrived to Cleveland we still had a lot of work to do.

Myself being a bit of a novice in the theater, I didn’t have a full appreciation of how skeletal our crew of 2 was. We didn’t have a director; we didn’t have a lighting designer. For me, this turned out to be an incredibly fulfilling void to step into. To be clear — Paul did the bulk of this work while we were in Cleveland, picking up most of the slack. But I was able to give input on all of the lighting cues, as well as give input on directorial decisions. I have to say, this was an incredible thrill for me. I’m immeasurably grateful that Paul trusted me enough to ask my opinion on these things, and it was extremely fulfilling artistically. It reminded me that I don’t have to always put myself in the narrow, predefined box that I often think of myself in.

The show changed a lot in our short time in Cleveland. We consulted with Cleveland-based playwright David Hansen, who served as “outside eye” for our rehearsal process and offered insightful, thoughtful, and clear feedback (David wrote a great blog post about his role in our process.)

Over the course of the week we really discovered the show. Part of that stemmed from a decision we came into the week with: we had as a tenant of the show that I should be on stage. Over the course of the week, we discovered why. Without giving too much away, I’ll just say that over the course of the show it is revealed that I’m not just scoring the show, but am actually a character in the show. That ontological shift is close to the heart of the show, and many of the important moments in the show hinge on that shift.

We performed the show three nights, and got great feedback from audiences. Paul delivered a masterful performance, putting on a masterclass in all the focus and attention it requires to be on stage in that way (it’s more focus and attention than is required of most musicians, ever, and it is terrifying.) We came in with a half-baked idea and ended with a product that we are both incredibly proud of. We’re currently in the stage of figuring out what next steps are, but we are very much looking at continuing to develop the show into something evening-length. Hopefully we can make that happen soon.

That’s it for Dividual. The next post will be about I Got To Keep Moving. Stay tuned.

Thanks for reading,

-Michael