Music: Of war & whiskey

On Christmas Day in 1914, British and German soldiers fighting in World War I defied their officers and briefly declared a truce along the front lines in Belgium. Meeting in a no-man's land between their positions, the soldiers took time out to bury their dead, exchange cigars and family photos, sing carols and play soccer.

That remarkable interlude -- by coincidence, the subject of a recent local show by Theatre Latté Da and Cantus -- is one of dozens of scenes aurally captured by jazz composer and pianist Bill Carrothers on his sprawling, two-disc epic "Armistice 1918." The song "Christmas 1914" features ethereal, bittersweet cello passages from Matt Turner and an amateurish but heartfelt choir rendition of "Silent Night."

Recorded in Minneapolis, "Armistice 1918" won the Charles Cros Award -- the French equivalent of a Grammy -- in 2004, and Carrothers has performed the nearly two-hour work in venues across Europe. Now, the Twin Cities native will stage its U.S. concert premiere tonight and Saturday at the Artists' Quarter in St. Paul.

"The live shows are really good," he said by phone while visiting his family here over the Christmas holiday. "The band has grown more organic and raw, and it is the most satisfying thing, touring-wise, that I do. It is exhausting but it is really fun."

The 'Real Story'

Now 43, Carrothers dutifully went through the traditional paces of becoming a top-notch jazz artist. His interest was piqued by the jazz-playing pastor of his Lutheran church in Richfield, nurtured by local luminary Bobby Peterson, honed by the nationally renowned program at North Texas State and legitimized by five years in the epicenter of jazz, New York City.

But he was always an iconoclast on this hipster career track. He describes his apprenticeship with Peterson as "strictly oral -- he'd say, 'A little more of this, a little less of that.' It was perfect for me." Despite good grades, he dropped out of North Texas State after a year. And he soon discovered that he hated the requisite schmoozing and frenetic pace of the New York jazz life.

He also enjoys history, occasionally fantasizing about chucking his music career and settling down as a teacher of the subject. Instead, he has fused his passions, recording two albums of solo piano based on the Civil War ("The Blues and the Greys" and "Civil War Diaries") plus two other historically based CDs ("Swing Sing Songs" and "Ghost Ships"). But "Armistice 1918" remains his most ambitious and fully realized work.

Carrothers' goal was to chronicle the process "from the relative innocence of 1914 to the wasteland of November 11, 1918." To that end, the first four songs are popular tunes from the era (such as "Let Me Call You Sweetheart") sung in a high, clear voice by his wife -- who later in the album becomes what her husband envisions as the "angel of the battlefield." The rest of the first disc deals with the call to battle, the separation of loved ones, and the onset of fighting. The second disc is "a portrait of life at the front," culminating in "the disillusionment with ideals, and finally the silence of Armistice Day."

Picture perfect

Carrothers still marvels at the efficiency and inspiration during the recording sessions at Creation Audio in Minneapolis.

"I was totally into the subject matter and we really went to town on it," he said. "The whole thing was done in 40 takes and we only threw 12 of them away. The entire second disc is improvised. I kind of stole this idea from [local percussionist] Jay Epstein when we were in a band 10 or 12 years ago with [bassist] Anthony Cox. He gave us pictures and said, 'Play this picture.' I thought it was goofy at first but it worked out great, and so I tried it with 'Armistice' -- gave them pictures and told them stories and then just said, 'OK, let's start in B minor.' And they were really ingenious about it. I am so proud of that."

This weekend, Carrothers plans to devote a full set to each disc. Many of the original performers, including Peg Carrothers, Epstein and Turner, will be on hand, and the lone replacement from the septet that toured Europe is local bassist Gordy Johnson.

If you fear the concert will be overly morose, bear in mind Carrothers' playful, irreverent streak -- as in his story of how he assembled the "choir" for the album:

"The choir parts are all of us -- the engineers and producers too -- getting drunk on Knob Creek bourbon and then singing those parts -- that's why they are called 'The Knob Creek Choir.' I wanted it to sound like a bunch of men in a mess hall anyway. We were going to have a big-ass Russian Navy choir, but that would have been about $400 an hour. I thought, it will be a hell of a lot cheaper just to get my friends drunk."