By Jim Schutze
By Rachel Watts
By Lauren Drewes Daniels
By Anna Merlan
By Lee Escobedo
By Alice Laussade
By Scott Reitz
Dennis Gonzalez almost ceased to exist this September, when he and his Harley were run off the road by an unidentified motorist. After the impact, flying through the air, he took time to accept his death, he says. He needn't have. Although re-establishing contact with the firmament peeled off much of his hide, he survived. Five hours of having his frayed ends scissored and snipped in the emergency room made him aware that nearly being killed was serious stuff, but it won't stop him from making art or causing controversy.
Gonzalez is an avant garde jazz musician and visual artist who also fronts a Tejano band (Trio Brujos) and teaches school. Since 1996 he's done concerts in Cuba and the Dominican Republic and has three albums out: Earth and the Heart, Catechism (both on the Music and Arts label) and Welcome to Us (on Koch). And darned if the jazz players who scorned him most vociferously when he came on the scene some 20 years ago haven't all but ceased to exist.
He has a video of the concert he did on television in August in the Dominican Republic. The show's producers figured he'd perform with local jazz mainstreamers, but he instead showed up with a nine-piece band whose members spurn store-bought instruments, preferring to play conch shells and pal (hallowed-out tree trunks). They beat on the latter and blew through the former, while Gonzalez improvised on his trumpet. The resulting sound was exotic but surprisingly cogent. The local jazz provincials, however, were unimpressed: When the camera pans over a knot of them in the audience, their faces register a comic menu of amusement, condescension, and loathing--a classic picture of Gonzalez's frequent effect on the entrenched.
Born in Abilene in 1954 and raised in the border town of Mercedes, Gonzalez lived with his parents in Ohio, Nebraska, and Kansas before graduating from Arkansas State University and settling in Dallas in '76. A disciple of free jazz, he'd recently taken a course under Cecil Taylor at Woodstock's Creative Music Studio and wanted to do his music, not jam to "Stella By Starlight." Local jazz police immediately indicted him for these crimes, so he missed out on the jam sessions that might've gained him access to the local jazz scene's buddy system.
"They were skeptical of my being audacious enough to play what I wanted and not conform to their standards," he explains. "They didn't have any references for my music, and a lot of them refused to play with me. That's OK. It made me stronger."
In 1977, Gonzalez headed up DAAGNIM (Dallas Association of Avant Garde and Neo-Impressionistic Musicians) and recorded an album--Air Light/Sleep Sailor on a four-track tape recorder his wife bought him. Since so few people would have anything to do with him, he played all the instruments (except for some guitar and drum parts on the selection "Madrugada") himself, and his liner notes confessed that "most of these instruments I have never played before." His detractors brandished this declaration as proof of what they perceived as dilettantism, but they couldn't make him go away.
DAAGNIM sponsored concerts and workshops with Anthony Braxton and Max Roach, luminaries whose presence helped ratify Gonzalez's. He staged concerts of his own (playing trumpet and/or bass) at art galleries and in a back room at the now-defunct Metamorphosis record shop, an essential part of the early Deep Ellum scene. Gradually, his music attracted others who found it refreshing to play in a free-form environment: Inner City recording artist Fred Raulston, fusionist Pat Coil, Buddy and Jamal Mohamed, Claude Johnson, Ed Smith, and Bob Ackerman all threw in at least the occasional lot with Gonzalez and played on DAAGNIM albums, of which there have been 23. (Several of them have been reissued on European labels: Connex in Germany, Silk Heart in Sweden, and Gowi in Poland.)
By the '80s, European jazz audiences were tiring of former avant darlings such as Pharoah Sanders and Archie Shepp, saying that all they did was blast away--and any brain-dead rock band could do that. More to their taste was the chillier, cerebral "Euro-jazz" characterized by what was coming out on the then German-based ECM label. Though Gonzalez's work is generally grainier than the ECM stuff of that era, it was close enough to gain attention across the water, all the more noteworthy because DAAGNIM "distribution" didn't travel much past Denton, let alone overseas.
In 1983, Gonzalez made the first of his by-now innumerable European treks, conducting workshops and leading a band that played the 23rd annual Ljubljana Jazz Festival in Yugoslavia. He played the east again--along with Milan and Paris--in '85, and in that year he also played with the 24-piece New Music Orchestra. Finland, Poland, West Germany, Norway, Sweden, and other countries followed, and in 1987 Swedish jazz label Silk Heart booked recording sessions in Dallas to gain access to Gonzalez's production and motivational skills. Saxist Charles Brackeen and trumpeter Ahmed Abdullas traveled from their homes on opposite coasts, and other participants came in from Chicago. Abdullas, the New Yorker, was plainly uneasy about being in primordial Texas, but he and the rest of the assemblage spent most of their non-studio time at Gonzalez's residence, amid his myriad paintings, xerographs, and exotic instruments. Results of the project--Brackeen's Attainments and Abdullah's Liquid Magic--are triumphs.