articles @ sedonainformation.com

I have a favorite greeting card, one I picked up in Boulder about ten years ago. It shows a cartoon of a gleeming, elderly Asian fellow, rock in one hand, daisy in another, and the caption reads “Sage contemplating the conversation between a stone and a flower.” This is the effect Steve Roach’s music has had on me: simultaneously elevating me to profundity, the Tao, yet reducing me to the simplicity of an empty snail shell basking in the sunlight.

Over the last 20 years, Tucson soundscape artist Steve Roach has treated the world to over 50 widely acclaimed albums. Through the scope his musical vision, he’s been recognized as a virtual Beethoven of the New Age. Didgeridoo was introduced to us on his 1986 album DREAMTIME RETURN. The genres of “tribal” and “dark ambient” music were pioneered on his albums WORLD’S EDGE and THE MAGNIFICENT VOID. His STRUCTURES FROM SILENCE was recently named one of the Top-10 Yoga albums of all-time. The NPR radio show “Music From the Hearts of Space” has featured him dozens of times.

Rhythmically and texturally hypnotic, only fleetingly melodic, these pieces feel more like living beings of sound. Primally evocative more than emotional, they move us towards the dimension we share with the seemingly inanimate components of our world, what’s called the shamanic reality.

I was introduced to Steve in 1987 when a friend visiting from New York City gave me a copy of his groundbreaking WESTERN SPACES, recorded with Kevin Braheny and Richard Burmer. Newly transplanted to the Southwest myself, I had been content mollifying my bodywork clients with misty, ethereal Space Music (Kitaro, Iasos, Emerald Web, Michael Rowland) and what slow movements I’d culled from classical LP’s. But here suddenly was an explosive new approach to a “New Age” sound. Lusty, asymmetrical rhythms, swarms of warm of desert dust; throbbings impelling you towards the innerworkings of the body’s organs, closer to the soul; suggestive mumblings of cell nucleii; the interplay of subatomic particles, of stars and their satellites. I was hooked, and have since amassed a huge collection of Steve’s work, logging hundreds of hours with my clients within their healing spell. I used to be nervous about overwhelming female clients with his Yang energy. That presumption always proves wrong.

Roach’s music breathes, comforting the inner-body with an easy ebb-and-flow, above which percussive emphasis and mineral-like melodies ramble and shake out a message of profound interconnectedness, of the continuous revolution of things. His chords are vast, a third again as many notes as Brahms or Bach, imperceptively changing midcourse, like sunbeams from behind a moving cloud cover. Sustained organic chords, momentarily odd, far too bold for lesser composers, are the pre-melodic structures forming the “soundscapes” which are Steve’s signature. In a 1998 radio interview he told me that a single soundscape may play continuously through his house for days on end until a piece has finally formed itself.

Over the years these soundscapes have spawned a wonderous array of music: The spectacular HALCYON DAYS (my current favorite) featuring Steven Kent (didgeridoo) and Kenneth Newby (percussion, suling bass); Native American rituals on KIVA (with Michael Stearns and Ron Sunsinger); Tibetan recitations on PRAYERS TO THE PROTECTOR with Thupten Pema Lama; Balinese gamelan with Robert Rich on the best-sellers STRATA and SOMA; guitars on DUST TO DUST and this year’s STREAMS & CURRENTS; Meso-American shamanism with Jorge Reyes on SUSPENDED MEMORIES: FORGOTTEN GODS, VINE ~ BARK & SPORE, and 1994 New Age Album of the Year SUSPENDED MEMORIES: EARTH ISLAND; electronic woodwind with Kevin Braheny on DREAMTIME RETURN, DESERT SOLITAIRE, and WESTERN SPACES.

Steve is a native Southern Californian and competes as an off-road cyclist; he now resides in Tucson. His wife and liner-essayist is Linda Kohanov, author of the current best-seller “The Tao of Equus”. Newly completed are albums with legendary guitarist Robert Fripp and with frequent collaborator Vidna Obmana.

As inspiring and nurturing as “New Age” music can be, much is musically simplistic, tending to be pollyanna-like emotionally. This music’s beauty flirts with the moving edge of the human shadow. Greatly to his credit, Steve’s works unerringly retain an absolute positivity – a testament to the genius of this contemporary musical mystic.

Bob Brill has been a Certified Advanced Rolfer* practicing in Sedona since 1986. He can be reached a bobbrill@sedona.net or 928.282.2856

Drum circles in Sedona have been an ongoing tradition for over 20 years. The Full Moon Drum Circle at Cathedral Rock captures the essence of Sedona’s alternative music and dance scene and has been legendary for over 20 years. Few places in America or the world can boast the blessing of continuing night-time, outdoor music jams, especially featuring the creative spirit of inspired residents and visitors coming together and jamming wildly in the dark. In addition to the monthly Cathedral Rock Full Moon circle, regular drum circles take place in Sedona every Wednesday night at the Oak Creek Brewery in West Sedona (www.oakcreekbrew.com - 928.304.1300) and every Saturday night on Schnebly Hill Road (weather permitting - Winter takes its toll: call Chris Wales for info 928.301.0359).

After the Rainbow Tribe’s 1998 gathering in Arizona’s White Mountains near Springerville (www.welcomehome.org/rainbow/index.html), approximately 1,000 of the attendees dropped into Sedona for the Full Moon Circle. It was my first Sedona Full Moon experience and I had been told expect between 20 and 30 participants. That number sounded great for a nice time making music in the moonlight at Cathedral Rock, the traditional gathering place for drumming in the area. My friend Hans from Zurich, Switzerland was visiting and was looking forward to a peaceful nature setting and modest music crowd that would crown his three-month visit to the Verde Valley. He brought along his mini digicam to record the events of the night as well as a drum he borrowed from our friend Chip in Cornville.

When we arrived we made the turn off Hwy 179 into the Back-O-Beyond subdivision and expected to continue down the windy road about a mile to the parking lot. As we made the turn a man was frantically waving at us to stop. We stopped quickly and were told to park here because there were no parking spaces between Hwy 179 and the lower Cathedral parking lot due to the Rainbow Gathering folks showing up and making it the largest drum circle in Arizona’s (and Sedona’s) history outside of the 24 hour-a-day circle that always accompanies a Rainbow Gathering and had well over 2,000 drummers this year in the White Mountains.

We walked over a mile to get to the circle. The sound of power drumming was booming loud even at the highway. As we moved up the trail to the upper red rock sandstone flats at the base of the Rock it was like swimming in a warm flow of human energy - the constant flow of bodies going up and down the trail in the dark radiated the tranceful perfume of sweat and rhythm. Hans and I were overwhelmed to discover a circle with at least 500 drummers beating out African-inspired music that was accompanied by dozens of semi-naked dancers, sitar players, rhythm sticks, tambourines, digeridoos, candlelight, and a sweet-smelling cloud of smoke. It was an all-night affair that went on until the sunrise began its climb just north of Bell Rock. The energy level was unlike anything I had ever witnessed in respect to music and outdoor, non-commercial gatherings. The whole night was brilliant and filled with magic.

It was this circle’s inspiration that created my desire to help drum jams happen more frequently and regularly in the Sedona landscape. Why wait a month to have such fun? Immediately I nailed up posters on all the local bulletin boards announcing the beginning of regular Saturday night drumming in the Red Rocks. I was determined to launch a new tradition so that I could enjoy my favorite new passion. I might have been a novice drummer, however I had the commitment to seeing it through even if others were not ready to support the idea.

It took a few months to gather steam. Some nights brought only 2 drummers, other nights brought in 15. Slowly but surely the word got out that the weekly Sedona drumming scene was an ongoing reality. A phone list was compiled and with a little effort a small, dedicated corps of musicians began the tradition. Big campfires fueled the circle through the cold winter nights and eventually a reliable, permanent location was imprinted on the local drumming network - the hiking trail parking lot on Schnebly Hill Road, the spot where the pavement ends. It was here that locals knew they could count on someone making music on a Saturday night. A steady crowd began to materialize weekly always featuring a small, tightly-knit band of drummers that made up the core. After jamming together for many months our inner circle of regulars could get in sync within minutes and make sounds and rhythms that could truly be called music. Sometimes it fell into “Thunder drumming” though usually it found a groove and propelled us into a trance for hours.

If you want to drum and dance in the dark or merely sit and listen to the groove you can stop by just after sunset on any given Saturday night and join in the fun. When I passed the reigns to Chris Wales he took over the commitment to continue the phone list and contact pipeline. Call Chris at 928.301.0359 for more information concerning Satruday night drumming as well as info on which night the Full Moon circle will take place. It’s an age-old question affecting all full Moon gatherings around the world: should it take place on the night of the day on which the Full Moon falls or on the night of the Full Moon even if that Full Moon falls after midnight, thus being technically on the next day. Sedona has found its own way of handling this challenge and often has two Full Moon circles, especially if those dates fall on weekend nights. The only drawback is that one of the nights has 5 people showing up while the other has 30. If you don’t stay in the contact loop you might show up on the wrong night and miss the jam of the century….

Check out my Phoenix friends’ website for more detailed info on Sedona and Arizona drum circles, drum classes, and drum events (classes with master teachers like Mamadi Keita):

www.azdrumanddance.org/azstuff/classes_events/Sedona_drum_circles.htm

See you at the circle.

by Dick Canby

When I first moved to Sedona late Summer 1961, the population was around 1,200, and there were only a couple of businesses in West Sedona. About the only industry at that time was movie making, and running cattle in the open areas around our village in the winter months, when it was too cold up on the plateau for the doggies. The only tourist interest in Sedona at that time was fishing Oak Creek, and in those days, it was not a stocked stream, and whatever you caught was native… and delicious. We were only a 1/4 season town in those days. Sedona pretty much locked up during October through May, cause there weren’t all the touristy businesses yet to attract people.

The Chapel of the Holy Cross had recently been built, and attracted some visitors, but the roads were all still dirt and therefore it wasn’t the kind of attraction it is today… and there was no commercial business being conducted at that time within the church (those were the days when it was a real church)… today it is just a commercial visitor’s attraction.

Tlaquepaque had not been built yet, and Poco Diablo was still to come (Sedona’s first resort). It was a wonderful little laid-back town, and everybody knew everybody else. We used to spend 30-45 minutes each morning at the Post Office in uptown Sedona back when it was a small hole in the wall close to where The Worm bookstore is today. We just gabbed and visited with friends cause nobody seemed to be in a hurry to do anything back then.

There was very little entertainment for the locals other than the local uptown bar, the Oak Creek Tavern (where today’s Cowboy Club is located), which boasted a 9-10′ standing and stuffed polar bear and only one pool table, The Rainbow’s End tavern way out in the next county west of us, and that wonderful roller skating rink up at Indian Gardens, which was a total blast, cause it was a slanted oval made with Oak panels. The teenagers would spend a lot of time there. Other than that, one would have to drive to Flagstaff to go to a movie house, or Cottonwood at the drive-in or their indoor theater in Old Town.

So the locals created their own fun. Glen Keller and his wife Marilou, and Don Pratt, his wife, Marian, and daughter, Susie, and many other folks started up what they called Red Rock Serenades. A fellow by the name of Bill Larock had a pick up truck with a camper on the back full of speakers, amplifiers, generators, etc. and we would spread these out on the Red Rocks (usually on the little hill to the north of Bell Rock Formation which we could get into on some old dirt roads. We’d build a huge bonfire and cook up grub while listening to Bill’s great music he was pumping out through the speakers. Sometimes we would sing along to songs we all knew.

One of the highlights at each R.R.S. was when after dinner, Don and Susie Pratt would climb up on a rock somewhere out in the dark and play duets on their trumpet and coronet. It was absolutely beautiful… and with the tonal differences between the two instruments, it was like listening to two voices in harmony. They would play lots of different pieces, and we would all enjoy the incredible entertainment back at the fire. These were the days when simple things held special places in our hearts, for it was the PEOPLE we were with that was important, as much as what we were doing.

At that same time many of us got together in the warm months and went “Pine Knotting,” around the Sedona area and up on the plateau. It would be an all day affair with people filling their station wagons and trailers with the “elbows” where branches came into the juniper trees and were hard enough and filled with enough sap, so that when the tree died and fell over, knocking these pine knots off and later throwing them into a fire acted like starters or helped get bigger logs going when they were added to the fire. We’d all pack up a picnic and had a grand ole time just doing something simple but fun.

As I recall, we had our Red Rock Serenades a few times a year, and they went on into the late ’60s and perhaps into the ’70s too. Eventually Bill moved to southern Arizona, and the group broke up. Not long afterward we got the Flicker Shack movie theater out in West Sedona which Mac ran all by himself for quite awhile, and we all loved having our own movie house so we didn’t have to drive so far. Of course in those days, whatever we got in the way of movies were usually 2-3 months old, since Sedona was still so small.

And then came the resorts and Tlaquepaque, the cattlemen stopped running their cattle in and around Sedona, more motels were built and gift shops, and before you knew it… Sedona was no longer that quaint little town that we all moved here to live in. The face of Sedona changed, and so did a lot of the visitors as we slowly became Scottsdale North.