Easily slip into another world : a life in music /

ldquo;I live in sound. All my references go back to sound. I go back in my memory and I don't see: I hear." So writes composer and saxophonist Henry Threadgill. The first sound Threadgill remembers is the streetcar that went by his "big and noisy apartment" in Chicago. Another vivid memory is listening to the "hodgepodge" of music on the radio: Serbian music, Mexican music, country music, jazz, R & B, boogie-woogie, gospel. As early as fourth grade he was aware of the talent that came through town, including Billie Holiday, Charlie Parker, and Lester Young. He liked music and wanted to play it but had no intention of becoming a professional musician. Yet as a senior in high school, he was writing his own compositions. After serving in the Vietnam War and being injured during the Tet Offensive, he returned to Chicago and began playing in blues bands. Becoming an adjunct instructor at Columbia College led to decades of influential work as a composer, musician, and music director for avant-garde theater productions. With co-author Edwards, Threadgill recounts his key collaborations with many prominent musicians in Chicago, New York, and around the world, and shares his unique perspective on how music is created, taught, and shared. A remarkably eloquent memoir by a Chicago jazz giant.

Pulitzer-winning composer Threadgill delivers an endearing autobiography coauthored by Columbia University English professor Edwards (Epistrophies). "All my references go back to sound. I go back in my memory, and I don't see: I hear," says Threadgill, who recounts a Chicago childhood surrounded by music, including radio programs, church services with his grandparents, and concerts with his mother. He began composing casually in high school, and his expulsion after getting in trouble with a "crowd of dedicated miscreants" pushed him to pursue music as a career: "It was only in my music that I felt like I had a sure sense of direction and purpose." In his early 20s, Threadgill, who is Black, volunteered for the Vietnam War draft, and though his time overseas provided a temporary respite from "the age-old American race problem," wartime trauma haunted much of the rest of his life. The authors strike a masterful balance between warmhearted anecdotes, such as Threadgill's recollection of learning about classical music from his seventh grade teacher, and darker ones, including an episode in which a group of white men nearly killed him for crossing to the wrong side of the street as a teenager in Englewood. The result is an exciting glimpse into a great musical mind and a moving account of lifelong perseverance. (May)

An American composer and saxophonist recounts a long, extraordinarily accomplished life in music. Born in 1944, Threadgill grew up in a Chicago whose airwaves were as catholic as they came: "I remember Mexican music, country music (which people used to call 'hillbilly' back then), jazz, rhythm and blues, boogie-woogie, plus regular programming including radio plays, detective shows, and science fiction." All that, plus the gospel of the likes of Mahalia Jackson and the world music pioneered by none other than DJ Studs Terkel. Threadgill might have fallen victim to the mean streets of the South Side, where he got into his share of scrapes and police officers shot to kill. "People talk about being scared--they don't know what being scared is," he writes. "I was running for my motherfucking life." Enlisting in the Army as a musician, he was promised soft postings until he managed to bring heat down on the brass for a unique arrangement of the national anthem, whereupon he was packed off to Vietnam. His recollections from the battlefront are immediate and affecting. "I played both clarinet and alto saxophone, depending on the circumstances," he writes. "But in terms of my situation, the key word was 'infantry.' " After his discharge in 1969, Threadgill began putting together one stylistically revolutionary act after another, from Air to Zooid, playing with Sun Ra, James White and the Blacks, John Cale, and Cecil Taylor, and absorbing lessons from--while avoiding imitating--the likes of Miles Davis and John Coltrane. The author is both encouraging and stern, as when he counsels, "If you haven't had a love affair with the music, I don't know what you're doing in it." More than that, he urges readers to innovate, improvise, and widen their horizons--for example, follow the Cuban model, studying percussion along with whatever instrument one chooses. A vivid, vigorous memoir that every budding musician should read. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.