Mary Halvorson's Meltframe @ 10

The prolific guitarist's first (and to date only) solo album

First things first: the Cecil Taylor/Tony Oxley album Flashing Spirits, featuring a previously unreleased live performance from 1988, is nearly sold out! We have only a couple of dozen CDs left, so if you want one — and you do — order now! They will be gone soon!

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Guitarist Mary Halvorson is a major, even central figure on the East Coast jazz/improvised music scene. She’s made more than a dozen albums, and appeared on scores of others, since debuting a little over 20 years ago. But Meltframe, originally released September 4, 2015, remains her only solo release to date.

The album contains 10 interpretations of pieces Halvorson likes. Some are relatively well-known jazz tunes like Oliver Nelson’s “Cascades,” Ornette Coleman’s “Sadness” and Duke Ellington’s “Solitude,” while others are by her contemporaries, including drummer Tomas Fujiwara, bassist Chris Lightcap and fellow guitarist Noël Akchoté. They vary from hard-rock riff-fests to desolate pools of melancholy, with subtle effects warping the guitar’s sound without ever diving all the way into Keiji Haino-esque noise eruptions or subduing it until it becomes typical “jazz guitar” naptime music.

Honestly, it’s one of the most varied solo guitar records I’ve ever heard. Halvorson seems to have given real thought not only to which tunes to record, but how she could transform each one. The opening version of “Cascades” is genuinely nasty, taking Oliver Nelson’s complex arrangement and turning it into an obsessive riff, the kind of thing one might hear from Orthrelm/Krallice guitarist Mick Barr.

Her version of Duke Ellington’s “Solitude”, on the other hand, is performed with infinite patience and an ultra-clean tone, with just a tiny shimmer of reverb. That leads directly into a version of Carla Bley’s “Ida Lupino” performed with the strong attack and sense of space of an indie rock ballad. And there are some more modern tunes, too — a version of bassist Chris Lightcap’s “Platform” is striking in its aggression: it could be a Bleach-era Nirvana riff to start, and explodes into shrieks by the end.

At the time of Meltframe’s release, I sent Halvorson some questions via email; her answers are reproduced below.

I’ve read that this album began to come together after some shows opening for King Buzzo of the Melvins. What were those shows like, both in terms of what you were performing and the audience’s response?

The shows were very intense for me. Before the tour with King Buzzo I had only ever done three solo performances. I had been working on solo material for a few years and knew I wanted to do an album, so I figured that performing the material every night for a week straight would be a great way to dive in. King Buzzo and the Melvins’ music are very important to me and I was extremely excited about the opportunity to open for Buzz. His solo set is absolutely mindblowing; relentless and powerful and intense. That served as great inspiration, even though my solo set is very different from Buzz’s in style and energy. It was also a fun challenge to play for a new audience night after night. I’m sure plenty of people did not relate to what I was doing, but I did manage to draw some of the crowd in and hopefully expose a few of them to music they hadn’t heard before, which made it all worthwhile: overall, a great experience and one I won’t forget.

How did the album change from initial concept (“I should make a solo album”) to finished product? What material was considered and rejected, etc.?

At first I was considering an album mostly made up of standards (Ellington, Monk, ​Churchill, etc.) deconstructed and interpreted in my own way. But as the concept evolved I started adding other types of songs to the mix as well; for example, lesser-known compositions by Carla Bley and Noël Akchoté, and tunes by contemporaries of mine (Chris Lightcap and Tomas Fujiwara). Basically, the evolved concept was: any tune I love and that I didn’t write is fair game. Early on I was working with a few Thelonious Monk compositions, and although I still perform those in my live sets, they did not make it onto the album. I am still adding more tunes to the repertoire as I go.

A lot of these pieces were probably not originally written on, or for, guitar. What did you have to do to them to make them work as solo guitar pieces?

It was mostly a process of trial and error. When I was arranging the pieces I tried to think as much about variety and balance as possible; it was important to me to avoid taking the same approach for each piece. Some of the compositions I’d play pretty straight, others I’d deconstruct or abandon, or create new arrangements and/or harmonies.

Some of the tracks seem to have effects added after the fact, like the sounds of tape running back and forth, or small cymbal crashes. Was that done live in the moment, or added afterward?

All the tracks were recorded as full takes with no overdubs. So the effects you hear were done in the moment, using the gear mentioned below.

What gear did you use on this record?

I used my Guild Artist Award guitar from 1970, my 1966 Fender Princeton Reverb amplifier (it has a spectacular tremolo which I used on the track “Solitude”), a Line 6 delay pedal with a Mission Engineering expression pedal, a Rat distortion pedal, and a Dunlop X volume pedal.

Can you talk in some detail about the track “Platform”? Why did you choose this piece, and how did you arrive at your interpretation of it?

My main criteria for choosing the compositions was simple: songs I like (particularly ones which get stuck in my head), and songs which I could visualize being done as solo guitar pieces in an interesting way. “Platform” was one of those songs. I have always been a fan of Chris Lightcap’s composing, and “Platform” was my favorite track from his Clean Feed album Deluxe. I was listening to that tune one day and I started hearing it as a loud, driven, power chord-heavy guitar track. I asked Chris for the chart and started playing through it, thinking of ways to arrange it. I mostly worked with the piano part, but also added elements of the horn parts. ​It’s arranged very differently from the original, separating the left and right hand of the piano and using sections of the solo form, though not the entire solo form (actually, most of the solo section is freely improvised). I also slowed down the tempo because I felt it sat better on guitar — and achieved the energy I was looking for — when played slightly slower.

A few years later, I interviewed Halvorson in person for a Wire cover story, and we talked about those solo shows opening for Buzz Osborne. She shared a very funny story then:

“I remember I had this one girl, she was wasted or on some kind of drugs or both, and she was standing right in front — I was on the edge of the stage and she was right there, and every song I was playing she was talking really loud… So I was really trying to tune her out and get through the song, and every time I would finish a song she would go, ‘Whoo! Yeah, you go girl!’ And then I’d start another one, and blah blah blah. So there were things like that happening, which was funny, but it was a great experience… Maybe some people did like [music] that had never heard it before, and maybe a lot of them didn’t, but I think being comfortable with that is important.”

And finally, I emailed her two new questions, to get her thoughts on Meltframe 10 years later and how it sits within her overall body of work in her mind.

If/when you listen to the album now, how much difference can you hear in your playing style or your approach? Is there anything you’d do differently now? Are there tunes you wish you’d included?

I almost never listen to my own records after they come out. By the time I go through the process of recording, choosing takes, mixing, mastering, sequencing, and then putting the music out into the world, I’ve heard it so many times that I have little desire to listen to it anymore. Then, sometimes many years later, someone will play it or I will hear it again by chance, and then I can hear it with fresh ears. So, I hadn’t listened to Meltframe in years, but I just put it on because of your email. It’s interesting to hear it now. It kind of feels to me like a snapshot of a point in time. I’m happy with the tunes I chose, and I remember the intensity of working on it and feeling like I put all the energy I had into the whole thing. I do think my approach and sound has probably changed and it would be a very different record today, although I’m not sure I can quite pinpoint how.

You’ve never made another solo record. Is that because you feel more comfortable playing in ensemble contexts? (This has always been my impression, for the record; your most recent records in particular really feel like you're “leading from the middle,” giving everyone space and only rarely coming forward.) Or is there some other reason?

The main reason I haven’t made another solo record is because I know I would want to do something completely different this time, and I don’t have a concept for it yet. Playing solo was quite challenging and all-encompassing, both physically and mentally, so I’d want to have the time and space to really decide that it is something I want to attempt again. I think it’s true I am generally more drawn to playing in ensemble contexts; not out of a desire to hide, but because I really enjoy collaborating with other musicians and composing and orchestrating music for projects and collaborations.

That’s it for today! See you Friday!