max jaffe

But I’ll make it up to you baby. Come see me play drums by myself at Manhattan Inn (632 Manhattan Ave) this Sunday at 10:30p.

Feb 21

Nov 23

Maybe I’ll Start Using My Tumblr Again…?

Thanksgiving happened. Black Friday is well underway. Black Friday kind of makes me sick and writing feels like a remedy. This was my second Thanksgiving spent away from my family, and while it was a fine day, I felt a resolve to not be in this situation anymore. Seeing as I’m originally from California, traveling across the country twice in a month (with Christmas around the corner, assuming it survives another attack in the ongoing WAR ON CHRISTMAS waged by the liberal Jew media) for no other reason than to eat good food and be with my family tree feels unwarranted. But next year might mean a trip to Milwaukee (where I have lots of family) or making plans with other Californian expatriates in NYC.

So this year, with no plans and no family in the immediate area, I decided to really step outside of myself and actually give thanks. If you are a Unibomber, maybe you don’t know that a hurricane on steroids named Sandy absolutely wrecked New York City recently and that there are still many areas that are dealing with cleaning up and moving on. Many of the “important” (or rich) areas of New York City that were affected, namely Lower Manhattan, were without power for a little less than a week and are now more or less back to normal. But many other areas of the New York City area that aren’t as sexy and aren’t featured in movies and TV shows as frequently are still in utter disarray (Far Rockaway, Staten Island, coastal New Jersey, Long Island, many more). SO yesterday morning I got up early (7am, which was perhaps the most arduous part of the whole day), met up with my friend Jessica Pavone, and headed to Rockaway to offer our volunteer services.

{I recall now one Thanksgiving, I was maybe 15, and my mom dragged my brother and I to a homeless shelter in San Francisco to help serve food. We were angsty teenagers and did the whole thing against our will, vehemently complaining every step of the way. At that age, I couldn’t appreciate the meaning of what we were doing in the context of the holiday and all I got out of it at that time was an increased feeling of “homeless people creep me out”. But 15 year olds are generally not the most compassionate individuals. I’ve matured a little (I don’t usually feel like I have, but looking back on something like this makes me realize that, in fact, I have) and have come to value and attempt to internalize this idea of compassion. I have to thank my mom now for exposing my brother and I to a different version of Thanksgiving before we could fully grasp what that meant. Perhaps she planted a seed.}

Jessica and I were not exactly sure what to do or how to proceed, so we just went to Rockaway in the hopes that relief efforts would be obvious. Fortunately for us, and unfortunately for the residents of Rockaway, it was very obvious. All along the beach were large tents and little hubs of people that had banded together to distribute food and supplies to Rockaway’s most needy. We found an Occupy Sandy center where they sent us to an area where food was to be distributed. They had more volunteers than they needed, which I thought was a beautiful situation despite the fact that it meant we would have to do some waiting around. And so while we waited, we took a brief walking tour of the area. The juxtaposition of the beach, on a mild and sunny morning, with the destruction of property all around us was almost too much for me to bear. Smashed up cars practically dripping with dried seaweed (evidence of complete flooding), metal poles that were bent over at clean right angles, trash everywhere. But the resultant situation among the people seemed like a kind of social frontier. The typical bubble that most of us protect ourselves with is a non-issue among people that endure something like this. I was struck by how happy people seemed to be despite what they’ve been through. The art of conversation, the art of eye contact, these are the kinds of things that have been left in the storm’s wake, and it humbles me that these people, many of whom were in tough situations to begin with, can come out of something like this with such a positive attitude. And it is clear that without the efforts of volunteers and people donating food and clothing, this attitude could not flourish. It is a wonderful feedback loop and I only wish I could have contributed more to it during our few hours in Rockaway.

The second half of my day required me to bus tables at Angelica Kitchen. I was offered work on Thanksgiving a few weeks ago, and, with no plans on the table and the promise of higher-than-average tips, I accepted. Part of my rationale upon accepting the shift was this same idea of service and giving thanks that led me to Rockaway. The meal they provided the staff with was really delicious and didn’t make me miss turkey flesh at all. And the pumpkin pie, well, shit. Any of you reading this that have been to Angelica know that they don’t fuck around, and yesterday was no exception. On the whole it was actually a pretty easy shift by comparison and all the customers were in good moods so it was pretty uneventful. But, despite my efforts to spend Thanksgiving doing things that I would have cringed at just a couple years ago, I couldn’t shake the feeling by the end of the day that, yes, Thanksgiving is important to me and I don’t want to spend it away from my family anymore.

I grew up in a house where religion did not play a role practically at all. Both my parents were raised with religion as a part of their lives, and both of them abandoned their respective organizations (Judaism-Dad, Catholicism-Mom) by adulthood. My guess is they were both turned off by the idea of having these ideas forced upon them and didn’t want to subject their children to that. And I thank them for this, because it enabled me to arrive at my own ideas on life and death and spirituality via a path of my own choosing. But when I was a kid, these concepts didn’t matter, and I “believed” in “God” (white haired dude in the sky with sandals) because it seemed like the thing to do and “Hell” seemed pretty scary. So most holidays, particularly Christmas and Easter, were more about the secular imagery geared towards kids, and the party at my house with all my crazy relatives that I love so much. There were always these little moments of discomfort though, when someone or something would try and teach the “true meaning” of these holidays and I would feel tricked. “You mean this isn’t just an occasion for getting together and giving me new toys?” “Oh there’s some ancient meaning to this ritual that involves this Jesus figure about whom I don’t really know what he did or why people love him so much?” (should I have capitalized “he” and “him”?) “Can’t we just open presents?” But Thanksgiving was, is, different. It’s not about gifts. It’s not predicated on a belief system (this is my problem with Christmas, and more specifically, Easter-if I don’t subscribe to these beliefs, can I honestly participate in the related celebrations?) (no). And honestly, it’s not even about whatever went down between the Mayflower passengers and the Native Americans who welcomed them (although this narrative is necessary to get the point of the holiday across). At this point, in 2012, it’s about this simple idea of giving thanks. The way we have come to celebrate this has become completely perverted in many ways (ie Black Friday, eating well past the point of even fullness just because), but I would like to believe that this new pre-Christmas that WalMart calls Thanksgiving and the people that celebrate that holiday are a minority. And the volunteer turnout yesterday helped support this belief that most people genuinely do view it as a holiday based around this basic idea.

In my secular, a-religious household growing up, Thanksgiving was a religious holiday. It was never stated as such, but that’s how I see it now. The religion just happens to be our religion, which is to say no religion, which is to say love. There are no sticky narratives from dogmatic belief systems, no character/deity to lord over the proceedings, just good food and the people in your life that matter most (and football and great discounts on your favorite name brand apparel!). In my family (and probably in many others), we had a ritual of going around the table and stating something you were thankful for that year before inducing annual food comas. Now, religious families call this “saying grace”. And it is a ritual that I admire in religious folks, as it only makes sense to “say grace” (from a spiritual, meta-physical standpoint. All the crazy journeys and people involved to result in this plate of food mean nothing to me. EAT!). But for my family, this one day a year, this religious holiday to atheists and agnostics everywhere was a platform for this simple ritual. And it’s one that I don’t want to miss out on next year.

Apr 21

From The Desk of Oren Kessler (Primary Records CEO)

Today is Record Store Day, one of the finest “holidays” of the year to travel to your local record store to pick up your favorite new indie disc. To celebrate, Primary Records has decided to discount all current and future releases to $10 for an entire week! Releases by In One Wind, Gym Dear, The Building, Pony of Good Tidings, Jonah Parzen-Johnson & Steven Lugerner will ALL be on sale here:http://www.primaryrecords.org/store/. You can now purchase all six releases on either vinyl or CD for just $60 - which is a whole lot of music for such a low price, especially if you are a audiophile who can’t get enough vinyl in their collection.

For any purchase made on the Primary website (http://www.primaryrecords.org/store/), customers will also be rewarded with a free download of In One Wind’s How Bright A Remix! This free download will include remixes of In One Wind’s debut album How Bright A Shadow! by the likes of Wildbirds & Peacedrums, DM Stith, Greg Saunier (of Deerhoof), Leverage Models, David Scanlon, Sleepers Work, Andrew Thiboldeaux (of Pattern Is Movement), Jeremiah Cymerman, Naytronix (Nate Brenner of tUnE-yArDs) & The Forms.

Here’s a little blurb about In One Wind’s How Bright A Remix! :::

The idea for a remix project came on the first day of tracking How Bright a Shadow!, when engineer Mitch Rackin started splicing and looping 1-2 second clips of drums, upright bass and guitar - making very strange and wonderful beats. Once the band had the finished record, they sent tracks to a number of friends and asked them to do something similar - take the individual parts and reconstruct them as they saw fit. The results are wonderfully varied, with contributions from members of tUnE-yArDs, Deerhoof, Pattern Is Movement, killer BOB, and many others.

Ironically, the Primary Records catalog is exclusively available online and at various Primary events around New York City - so it’s a slightly different approach to your typical Record Store Day. All in all, we hope that you take advantage of this sale in addition to making purchases at physical record stores. As a new start-up record label, Primary hopes to have releases in physical stores across the country in the next few months, but until then, we are trying our best to digitally distribute this music that we’ve worked oh so very hard to produce!

Jul 31

Post-RW24 recap

Well, it’s over. An unbelievably special and memorable 24 hours, and something Milwaukee should be very proud of. I feel very fortunate to have had the opportunity to participate in this event, and if I’m not drumming at the next one, I’ll be biking. I’ve never seen a community of folks getting together and doing something of this magnitude, and without a single iota of corporate presence. I feel so inspired by what these people, from the organizers to the volunteers to the racers themselves, have accomplished. Here’s an hour-by-hour breakdown [may seem like a long post, but it was a long day. If others can devote 24 hours to biking and drumming, you can read this page of text].

7p-8p: Joe and I get things going with a ‘top of the hour’ call, a brief 6/8 rhythm. This rhythm is played at the top of every hour. We then proceed to play a rhythmic cycle based on the number 24.

8p-9p: The sun is beginning to dip a bit. There is a crazy festival atmosphere in the air, as many people that aren’t participants in the race itself come out to cheer on the bikers. Joe and I are feeling strong, playing some of the things we had worked out beforehand.

9p-10p: Some friends and family stop by to cheer us on as well! Starting to feel a little tired, as it as already approaching the longest stretch of time I’ve ever played drums without stopping. Joe and I play the same beat for this entire hour, with variations only in timbre and volume (we are told to keep it down as night falls).

10p-11p: I take my first break. We are now competing with a DJ. The crowd is getting a little drunk, and many people are curious, “are you guys actually playing for 24 hours??”. Yes.

12p-1a: Brushes. Getting pretty tired, but seeing people of all ages and sizes steadily biking along keeps me motivated.

1a-2a: We played a lot of different things and I really don’t remember what happened every hour. By now there is a distinct party atmosphere in our immediate vicinity.

2a-3a: At this point, Joe takes a break and I am going solo for the next 10 hours (he returns at noon). I strap my snare around my neck and take a walk around the neighborhood. Most of the bikers that pass me smile and wave, which is a nice reminder that maybe what I’m doing is keeping some of them motivated too. Various street signs are drummed on. I stop to talk to a few people, but don’t stop keeping time with brushes. Some think this is remarkable/humorous. When I return to my station, some people come over and ask me to play a hip-hop beat so they can freestyle. I comply. Turns out they’re really good.

3a-4a: I play a simple rock beat at about 140bpm for this entire hour. My focus is to have as little variation as possible. Someone feeds me a beer.

4a-5a: I decide to play along with dawn. 40 minute cymbal swell, 20 minute tom roll.

6a-7a: Surprising amount of non-racers hanging out, drinking. Surprising amount of incredibly focused bikers speeding through the Start/Finish. Once the sun is up and I near 12 hours, my mind feels soggy. The specifics of what I am playing becomes of little importance, although I am later told by one of the scorekeepers, who was resting nearby at this time, that what I was playing was influencing his dreams.

7a-8a: Halfway point. When it dawns on me that I am only halfway through, I get a little worried. Bodily needs start to yell at me. However, I am brought a plate of delicious food by a gracious and beautiful volunteer and it revives me for a bit.

8a-9a: One of the less focused hours. I’m essentially practicing at this point, working out different rhythmic concepts and playing percussion pieces that I have brought along for when I am running out of steam. Then, some people come over and ask me to play a hip-hop beat so they can freestyle. I comply. Turns out they’re not that good.

9a-10a: Someone with a saxophone approaches me and demands that I play some “6/8, you know, like, Latin” so that he can play “Afro Blue”. This is incredibly off-putting. We have a slightly heated exchange because he thinks I’m an asshole and I don’t. I explain to him that I’m not here to entertain, that I don’t really care if anyone listens, that I’m not playing for tips, and that this is certainly not a jam session (Yes, I know this goes against what happened with the people wanting to freestyle, but it was the way this person approached me that set me off. And after explaining my motives to him, they become clearer to me and I no longer take requests). I am here because I have set out to accomplish something that I believe to be incredibly difficult, just like the rest of the bikers. The main difference between what I’m doing and what the bikers are doing is that what I’m doing is loud and immobile. He sees my point and leaves amicably.

10a-11a: 1hr buzz roll. This was the most difficult hour by far. The sun was cooking me, and after about 15 minutes of the buzz, my knuckles start to feel swollen. At various points, I close my eyes, attempting to regain focus and instead drift into non-wakeful states. Somehow my body does not stop the roll.

11a-12p: When 11 comes, I am so happy to play that 6/8 figure. I swing for a bit and some toddlers are transfixed.

12p-3p: Joe comes back! Never have I been happier to see this man. He relieves me and I go eat breakfast and take a short nap, followed by the best shower of my life. When I return, I am happy to hear that Joe continued the top-of-the-hour signal.

3p-4p: Feeling completely rejuvenated, I return to our station. Joe again leaves for a short while (he lives here in MKE and has other things that need his attention aside from this event, so in many ways he was working much harder than I was, even if he didn’t play drums as long). Some family members come by again. My aunt calls my mom and instructs me to say “hi mom!” into the phone.

4p-5p: Lots of people are hanging out again. The end is approaching and I am surprised by how capable I still feel physically. Mentally, not so much. At various points during the 24 hour period, it got to a point where even though I could hear what I was playing, I wasn’t really listening. This is generally a big no-no for me, but this is an unintentional by-product of what I’ve undertaken. Sometimes, like the buzz roll for example, what I am playing becomes a part of the sonic fabric of the entire area and it is of no more importance than the sounds of people shouting their lap times or ringing their bells or observers chatting about whatever. I like this, in retrospect.

5p-6p: Joe is back and we are playing another one of our rhythmic cycles based on the number 24. Almost done…

6p-7p: The grand finale. We play what we played in the beginning (a rhythmic cycle based on the number 24. I am later told that the sound of this rhythm is very similar to what the bikers are hearing constantly coming from their machines, and that everyone had this stuck in their head), increasing by one dynamic level every ten minutes. By the end, we are playing so loud and intensely that storm clouds begin to gather (not a joke). [Who knows if this actually has anything to do with what we’re playing? I’d like to think so though, especially because they gathered as we crescendoed, and parted once the race ended. No rain falls.] The final ten minutes are one of the few times where we have a rather large crowd. We play one final 6/8 tag at 6:59p, people cheer, there are fireworks, we are done. My limbs feel like spaghetti.

So there it is. Congratulations for making it through this whole post! Yes yes, I know I didn’t play for 24 hours straight. In total, I probably was drumming for about 20-21 hours. But anyway, like I said, this is such a special thing that these people have done, and I feel blessed to have been a part of it. The concept of biking for 24 hours is staggeringly impressive and this was a small way to give back to the positive energy that such an undertaking sends out into the world.

Jul 28

Endurance

I am writing to you from Milwaukee, WI. I am in the studio of drummer Joe Wong from the band Parts & Labor, with whom I will be participating in a 24hr drum duo taking place during the Riverwest 24 Bike Race, a 24hr bike race held annually in the Riverwest neighborhood of Milwaukee. The two of us have spent some time formulating an approach to this undertaking, as well as bouncing our musical ideas off of each other, and while I feel good about what is possible musically between the two of us, I am SUPER NERVOUS about the physicality of playing for 24 hours. Part of the idea of this bike race is that it’s something that no one can really train for, it’s something that no one really thinks they can do, but the community bands together and does it, and the personal rewards are evident. People keep coming back to this event in droves, and I’ve noticed many people around town with RW24 tattoos and t-shirts and other such memorabilia from previous years.

The purpose of this duo, although it has not fully revealed itself to me, is not to provide tunes for people to rock out to. The purpose of the duo isn’t even for people to listen to the whole thing. The purpose is to test our physical and artistic endurance, right there along with the rest of the bikers. Our mode of transport will be drums instead of bikes. And we may not make many laps, but we will keep moving.

This concept of endurance in relation to music has interested me for quite some time, but the logistics of attempting such a thing have always gotten in the way. But here is a situation that is perfect for attempting just such a thing. If you are curious about the results, check back on this page sometime after July 30 for recordings and pictures of me looking tired.

Since my last post, I went to California to play shows with my brothers Chive (Matt Wohl and Steven ”Mak” Lugerner), visit with my family, go to Giants games, soak up as much coastal air and Mexican food as I could, and do a mini-tour with Steven’s wonderful septet. We topped it off at Yoshi’s in Oakland, which is a venue I have been to many times since I was an adolescent. A show I saw at this very venue literally changed the course of my life. To be on that stage, with musicians that consistently blow me away, playing music that only gets better with repeated performances, was quite a thrill. Thanks Steven, Matt, Angelo, Stephanie, Lucas, and Glenn for an amazing time.

Jun 23

p.s.

Pizza Joe’s is in none other than YOUNGSTOWN, OH, for those of you that were curious

shows shows shows

Currently sitting at Pizza Joe’s on the last day of In One Wind tour. It’s been a long, fun, strange trip with many stories to recount, which I will do when I am back in one place for more than a couple days at a time. Just enough time today to update the shows page, which you should check out! Lots of exciting stuff coming up in the next few months. More words coming soon.

Jun 12

No more website neglect!

I’ve been neglecting this website for too long, I knew this would happen! Much has happened in my life/music since my last post, and an update will come soon.

I’m currently on the road with In One Wind! Just played in Pittsburgh last night. Our record is available for free on our bandcamp, just go to inonewind.com

May 02

what a prick

Celebrating a man’s death feels wrong. But, in thinking about what this man was responsible for, it’s hard not to feel some sense of relief that he is no longer a part of this world. His death is clearly more symbolic than anything else, but as a symbol, it is a powerful one. I remember getting ready for school on the morning of 9/11, I had just started high school. I was getting into the shower when my mom yelled to me from the kitchen that a plane had crashed into the Pentagon. I said that that was impossible because the Pentagon had protected airspace, a no-fly zone, something I’d heard in my 8th grade history class. I just didn’t accept it to be true and then got in the shower. By the time I had arrived at school, it was painfully obvious that my mom was telling the truth, and that the truth was far more devastating than a single isolated attack on the Pentagon. A pall was cast over that day, that month, that year: the moment that defined life in the beginning of the 21st century. I felt immensely sad that day, grieving over the loss of life that had been suffered. It was perhaps the first time in my young life that I felt true sympathy for total strangers. Through this grief I felt a connection with a world outside myself and my family and friends, and for a 14 year old who viewed himself as the center of the universe, this was a significant emotional event. ”Post-9/11” life in the U.S. has had its ups and downs, from the togetherness that immediately followed to the “mission: accomplished” speech to airport security lines, but today there is some tiny sense of closure. Sure, TERROR may not be going anywhere anytime soon, but gotta hand it to Obama for doing what he said he’d do, and helping families that lost loved ones feel some semblance of justice.