Sander Roscoe Wolff

by Sander R Wolff
The Union
Published some time in the early 1990’s

As I sat, watching and listening to The League of Crafty Guitarists perform Sunday at Peppers in The City of Industry, I was struck by the eyes of the players; gazing into space, unfocused. They seemed the perfect example of calm assurance, sitting on folding stools, with perfect posture. When not playing, resting their left hands on their knees palm up and their right arms hanging at their sides.

I spoke at length with Paul Richards, a member of the L.C.G., and he told me of the Guitar Craft school, created by King Crimson founder Robert Fripp. Richards began the Level One course in ’86, and except for breaks to complete his college education, has continued studying and performing under the direction of Fripp.

“I knew that Robert had a different approach than a lot of other guitarists, more of an intellectual approach or maybe even a spiritual approach to playing the guitar,” Richards said. “The best thing [was] trying to let go of all that and just go for it, because actually when I came to the course it wasn’t anything like I could have imagined anyway.

“During that [first] week, the focus is on technique, on how to play the guitar rather than what to play, so there are a number of exercises that are presented, right and left hand techniques. In addition to that there are exercises in attention that are presented to develop and cultivate attention. It’s a beginning for developing a personal discipline in practice.”

The focusing of attention is central to the Guitar Craft training, and the work involved in learning the specific techniques moves beyond mere guitar playing.

“Everything is geared toward this type of work. Besides playing the guitar all day we each take our turn in helping prepare the meals and [taking] care of the house, things like that. This is also part of the course. Part of the Level Three course is to apply the same quality of attention and work we apply to our guitar playing to an ordinary mundane activity like cleaning the toilet or sweeping the floor or chopping onions for a meal. So it expands, in that sense, from just being a guitar player to doing things in general. At one point Guitar Craft becomes a way of life.”

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by Sander R Wolff
The Union
Published sometime in the early 1990’s

He was a founding member of the progressive rock bands Yes and King Crimson. He’s played with Genesis, and has toured or recorded with countless others. But Bill Bruford, drummer extraordinaire, really isn’t interested in recounting past glories, but in devoting his creative energies to his current group, Earthworks.

“[Jazz] is the thrust of my career right now, in that particular direction, ’cause there’s something I think I can do there with electronic percussion particularly. Taking that into jazz and having it taken seriously as a jazz instrument and trying to be creative on the chordal and pitched melody side of the instrument.”

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by Sander R. Wolff

The Long Beach Union Newspaper

 

Fred Frith is a man whose work is not easily classified. His career as an improviser is only surpassed by his career as an instrumentalist, except for his career as a composer, which may, at this point, have surpassed both.

His work with other groups and artists just adds to the confusion. He’s a fixture in John Zorn‘s Naked City, which is a jazz/be bop/hardcore cut-up band. He’s lent his distinctive guitar playing to The Residents, Brian Eno and The Violent Femmes, to name but a few. His own band, Keep The Dog, began as a retrospective group.

“The group is constantly evolving into things we don’t expect,” Frith said. “In one sense, it’s a traditional group, in as much as it’s like bass, guitar, drums and keyboards, but on top of that, with the accordion, which is very important in the group, we have a quaint, Cajun influence sometimes.

“We went through this business of me writing out all the parts for these old songs from Gravity and Speechless and we’d been performing that, but we don’t do that any more. We’re now concentrating on things I’ve written more recently, especially dance pieces I’ve written for Bebe Miller or old pieces I’ve written with Ferdinand Richard for a record of ours that just came out. We played some gigs in Switzerland a couple of weeks ago and it was the first time I really felt the group was really a band in the sense of something I could write for,” Frith said.

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by Sander Roscoe Wolff
12:00 AM 01-10-03

This day began like any other:
Woke up to the blade and lather,
Burned a stick, and drank a cup,
And drove me to my nine to fiver.

In this endless dance, I wondered
“Can I feel a deeper meaning?
Can I have an understanding
Far beyond these things I know?”

Still, the ritual continued,
Daily till the years drew closer,
Closer than the scent of lovers
Lingering on dampened pillows.

Closer, till the air around me
Did not fit my tired body.
Closer, so my skin cried out
For any kind of brief respite.

Then, I saw with eyes unbounded,
Past these passing moments spinning
Something I cannot describe
In words that pass as fragile flame.

In this moment, knowing only
That my life was spread before me,
Still, for once, no doubt or question.
Not an answer but this: _____.

Knowing, as I did, that instant
Spreading out to fill each void,
Echoes of my endless being
Endless in the briefest time.

Boundless, now, unbidden go.
Truth is not to seek, or know.
As above, it is below.

Now, this next day comes so quickly.
Do I rise to fall again?
Do I act to change these patterns
Or do I simply hold the course?

Do I act to change these patterns
Or do I simply hold my course?

This song, called

, was written a few years back when I was recording songs as birthday gifts for my friends. At a local farmer’s market, I found a small stone heart that was carved from some sort of crystal. It looked rather dull and gray until the sun hit it. When it was illuminated directly, it sparkled and shined, refracting the light from within. This became a lyrical metaphor for me, and sparked the song. My singing, especially at the beginning, is a bit ragged. The harmonies are all staggered and informal. This was all planned. The guitar solo is perhaps one of the best I’ve ever recorded, not for its technical skill, but because to me it is filled with feeling. As the solo progresses, the rest of the music fades away. To me, this was also a metaphor for being couragous in letting one’s heart shine… At the end, my vocal is softer, warmer, and more intimate…. Almost a whisper.

To me, this is a very special song. I don’t know if anyone else likes it much, as I understand that aspects of it can be challenging. Still, for me, I felt like I reached a place in the creation of it that was emotional and personally profound.

Having said that, I absolutely welcome and encourage any and all feedback and impressions you care to share, positive or negative.

Here are the lyrics:

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Forged
By Sander Roscoe Wolff
March 22, 2006 9:05 PM

Made inside this fire
Hammered, forged
Glowing from within
Beaten.

Coal and billows blows
Burning brightly
Nestled in the embers
So cold.

Any old iron
Melts into something new
What I was
Is gone.

Haikus for Yous.

Pluck the strings, my heart
Sings of Spring’s promise.
Love blooms everywhere.

Birch, slender and strong,
Sending shoots toward the sun,
Bending in the wind.

Leaves Fall at your feet.
Carpets of color guide you
To home and husband.

Wool socks, soft and warm,
Hug your feet beneath covers.
Winter’s cold forgotten.

Green light shines in my eyes
Running down the wall in all
I call to skies

Arms reach out like trees
Stretching out into the hall
To silver seas

Who knew the blue in you
I didn’t see the green in me

Grass grows inside my shoes
Reaching toward the silent call
From green to Blues

Who knew the blue in you
I didn’t see the green in me
We’ll still see it through
Until we are free
[We’ll see it through
Until you are me]

Dawn comes down to kiss my face
Dancing in the birth of All
A warm embrace

Who knew the blue in you
I didn’t see the green in me
We’ll still see it through
Until we are free
[We’ll see it through
Until you are me]

I didn’t know it but
You did
You didn’t know it but
I did

[Guitar Solo – Verse only?]

Who knew the blue in you
I didn’t see the green in me
We’ll still see it through
Until we are free
[We’ll see it through
Until you are me]

I didn’t know it but
You did
You didn’t know it but
I did
I didn’t know it but
You did
You didn’t know it but
I…

Transfigured Heart
By Sander Roscoe Wolff
3-9-06 3:22 PM

Carry my heart in both hands.
Walk slowly.
Sometimes it feels indestructible
but it isn’t.

Carry it all the way.
Don’t hand it off when it gets heavy.
Help me to lighten it.

Why am I afraid?
It has been bruised and broken,
torn apart, crushed.
My heart, so transfigured, still beats.
It’s rhythm a bit slower, unfamiliar,
but still my own.

Be still, my heart, and, in the silence, listen.
Hear the flutter of a thousand valves.
Each beats with scars, a history of trauma.

Why am I afraid?
I trust your hands, your heart.
Just don’t drop me again.

A Little Seed
By Sander Roscoe Wolff
3-10-06 7:17 AM

The little boy in footy pajamas,
a shock of curly black hair,
curled into a tight ball on the floor,
impossibly small.
A finger moves, unfolds, and another
followed by wrist, so slowly, so slowly
so smoothly unfolding, his small form flowering.

This performance is his, and we love it.
A little seed sprouting into a flower,
his little body stretched straight,
his fingers reaching for the ceiling.
In those moments, no judgment or doubt,
just the simple joy of blossoming.

Forty years have slipped away,
the flower faded, withered.
That sweet, bright child
so full of innocence and joy,
seems distant now, barely a memory.
His loss lingers in my heart,
but I know he’s a part of
my essential self,
as close as my breathing.