Cheltenham Jazz Festival 2018
Festival Report from Chris Baber
Friday 4th May 2018
LUCIA CADOTSCH’S SPEAK LOW / ENEMY / IAIN CHAMBERS & DAN NICHOLLS
Parabola Arts Centre
Parabola Arts Centre
Some jazz gigs show exactly why so much of this music has to be experienced live. The evening had two sets which featured trio versions of two groups playing tunes from their current albums, and this led into the ‘recomposed’ piece in which sounds sampled from the sets were built into new forms. All three events created quite different atmospheres and textures to the recorded versions.
Speak Low specialise in defamiliarisng well-known songs. Petter Eldh (who played bass in both acts) and Otis Sandsjo, on sax, created the suggestion of the absent drums from their trio. The suggestion came from the click of keys on the sax, the buzz of strings on the bass, and the sound of Sandsjo’s breathing on his impressive feats of circular breathing. None of this, of course, was the deliberate rhythm-marking but all of it helped frame the timing of the tunes. Cadotsch presented a calm centre of this low-key hurricane, occasionally swinging her arms to imply the beat. Her singing had the audience spell-bound. This was not simply because of the fine quality of her voice but also the ways in which she pushes and pulls at note to imbue the words with additional weight of meaning. The trio work the space around the melodies, with sax that burbles and scrapes notes and bass that runs across arpeggios, and singing that finds way it working the human voice into an additional instrument as well as delivering the words. Even their version of ‘What’s new’, which was inspired by Ahmad Jamal’s playing of the tune, managed to cover the tune in a wealth of delicate decoration. A highlight of the set was their newest piece, a version of Randy Newman’s ‘I think it’s going to rain today’, which began with a simple but effective repeated figure from bass and sax and built into a very moving rendition. On the final tune, ‘Lilac wine’, the trio were joined by Kit Downes on piano.
Speak Low specialise in defamiliarisng well-known songs. Petter Eldh (who played bass in both acts) and Otis Sandsjo, on sax, created the suggestion of the absent drums from their trio. The suggestion came from the click of keys on the sax, the buzz of strings on the bass, and the sound of Sandsjo’s breathing on his impressive feats of circular breathing. None of this, of course, was the deliberate rhythm-marking but all of it helped frame the timing of the tunes. Cadotsch presented a calm centre of this low-key hurricane, occasionally swinging her arms to imply the beat. Her singing had the audience spell-bound. This was not simply because of the fine quality of her voice but also the ways in which she pushes and pulls at note to imbue the words with additional weight of meaning. The trio work the space around the melodies, with sax that burbles and scrapes notes and bass that runs across arpeggios, and singing that finds way it working the human voice into an additional instrument as well as delivering the words. Even their version of ‘What’s new’, which was inspired by Ahmad Jamal’s playing of the tune, managed to cover the tune in a wealth of delicate decoration. A highlight of the set was their newest piece, a version of Randy Newman’s ‘I think it’s going to rain today’, which began with a simple but effective repeated figure from bass and sax and built into a very moving rendition. On the final tune, ‘Lilac wine’, the trio were joined by Kit Downes on piano.
Within minutes of the last note, and almost before Tony Dudley-Evans could announce them, Enemy were on stage. Eldh and Downes were joined by James Maddren on drums and they played through their new CD (released later this month). As with Speak Low, the versions of the tunes that they played were stripped back to a trio format and this added whole new dimensions to the ways that the tunes worked. What was most compelling was the way in which they navigated the complicated time signatures so intuitively. This was especially impressive given that the set-up had Downes sitting with his back to the other players – who spent much of the set looking intently at the movement of his back and shoulders to take their cues. On their final tune, ‘Children with torches’, they were joined by Sandjo.
Following the acoustic sets, the audience went into the small bar area in the Parabola Arts Centre where Iain Chambers and Dan Nicholls had been busily cutting, splicing and mixing sounds taken from the concert (and, presumably the sound-checks earlier in the day because they were beavering away at laptops and mixing desks when we arrived). Where Speak Low had an air of distorted, effect-laden sounds from the ways in which Eldh and Sandsjo worked their instruments, the replay of sounds they produced had been filtered and cleaned. So one odd impression you had was that the remixing had less of the distortion on each note. Of course, the remixing did introduce effects, with lots of reverb and judder as the individual clusters of notes were repeated and weaved together over a repeating drum pattern. The mixed worked samples of Maddren’s drumming (recognisable in places from the earlier set) with snatches of Cadotch’s singing and bursts of sax and rumbles of bass. Occasionally the duo used their own keyboard to introduce some stab House music chords over the whole. Trying to spot the source of the different sounds made for a fascinating challenge and seeing the mixing performed live was a new experience for many of us. And one that I found very rewarding – I even thought that if Miles Davis had continued his journey in music, he’d be much more likely to be doing something like this than playing trumpet.
Following the acoustic sets, the audience went into the small bar area in the Parabola Arts Centre where Iain Chambers and Dan Nicholls had been busily cutting, splicing and mixing sounds taken from the concert (and, presumably the sound-checks earlier in the day because they were beavering away at laptops and mixing desks when we arrived). Where Speak Low had an air of distorted, effect-laden sounds from the ways in which Eldh and Sandsjo worked their instruments, the replay of sounds they produced had been filtered and cleaned. So one odd impression you had was that the remixing had less of the distortion on each note. Of course, the remixing did introduce effects, with lots of reverb and judder as the individual clusters of notes were repeated and weaved together over a repeating drum pattern. The mixed worked samples of Maddren’s drumming (recognisable in places from the earlier set) with snatches of Cadotch’s singing and bursts of sax and rumbles of bass. Occasionally the duo used their own keyboard to introduce some stab House music chords over the whole. Trying to spot the source of the different sounds made for a fascinating challenge and seeing the mixing performed live was a new experience for many of us. And one that I found very rewarding – I even thought that if Miles Davis had continued his journey in music, he’d be much more likely to be doing something like this than playing trumpet.
Saturday 5th May 2018
BILL FRISELL AND THOMAS MORGAN
The hodge-podge of neo-classical styles that characterises Regency architecture and which graces Chelthenham’s Town Hall might seem an odd venue for this duo. But the architecture has its own vernacular that pulls together many different elements. So, as Frisell has built his career on ‘not’ playing jazz (in the same way that the ‘doesn’t play country music) but rather developed a vernacular uniquely his own, so the venue seemed ideal. Indeed, just before he came on stage, he said that the setting was perfect for his music (although, of course, that is just as likely to be American irony).
On this morning’s showing, it is a vernacular that Thomas Morgan has also become fluent in. While the duo’s CD ‘Small Town’ had Frisell playing a semi-acoustic Gibson, today he reverted to the more familiar solid-body Fender. He takes the shrill, brittle sounds of this instrument and tames them into something softer and warmer. In this show he also experimented with a variety of effects pedals and used a loop pedal to layer these – usually towards the end of a tune or as part of its introduction. I say ‘tune’, but what we had were three lengthy improvised pieces which pulled in a variety of song fragments. I thought I spotted some Joni Mitchell, some Theolonius Monk and definitely the Goldfinger theme from the James Bond movie, together with extracts from tunes on Small Town. Frisell delighted in mischievously lobbing different bits and pieces of music into the mix and Morgan – occasionally with a bemused look or a wry smile – took these and incorporated them into his clean, rich bass patterns. The chemistry between the two of them was captivating and much appreciated by the audience in the breaks between pieces.
On this morning’s showing, it is a vernacular that Thomas Morgan has also become fluent in. While the duo’s CD ‘Small Town’ had Frisell playing a semi-acoustic Gibson, today he reverted to the more familiar solid-body Fender. He takes the shrill, brittle sounds of this instrument and tames them into something softer and warmer. In this show he also experimented with a variety of effects pedals and used a loop pedal to layer these – usually towards the end of a tune or as part of its introduction. I say ‘tune’, but what we had were three lengthy improvised pieces which pulled in a variety of song fragments. I thought I spotted some Joni Mitchell, some Theolonius Monk and definitely the Goldfinger theme from the James Bond movie, together with extracts from tunes on Small Town. Frisell delighted in mischievously lobbing different bits and pieces of music into the mix and Morgan – occasionally with a bemused look or a wry smile – took these and incorporated them into his clean, rich bass patterns. The chemistry between the two of them was captivating and much appreciated by the audience in the breaks between pieces.
KADRI VOORAND
Where Frisell used a loop pedal to add some extra sauce to his playing, for Voorand it is central to her performance. She takes whistling, vocal sounds, a child’s glockenspiel and uses these to layer complex backing tracks over which she multitracks her singing.
As a technical performance this was very impressive, but what made the show even more attractive was her enthusiastic and cheerful personality. She has an infectious humour that finds its way into the songs as well as the chat between tunes. This is not to suggest that the set was only light-hearted. With a thumb-piano and bass accompaniment, she delivered a moving arrangement of a Sarah Teasdale poem.
Her singing style owes as much to musical theatre as jazz, with the semi-spoken, clearly enunciated works (in English or Estonian) providing a crisp response to the wordless improvisation that she layered with these. In several songs, she introduces characters and take different voices to present these, swapping voices and personalities through the songs. Her band follows her evey move and provides a strong support which, at times (with the fuzzy guitar solos) sounded more New York than Tallinn – but she celebrates her Estonian heritage in choice of traditional poems.
As a technical performance this was very impressive, but what made the show even more attractive was her enthusiastic and cheerful personality. She has an infectious humour that finds its way into the songs as well as the chat between tunes. This is not to suggest that the set was only light-hearted. With a thumb-piano and bass accompaniment, she delivered a moving arrangement of a Sarah Teasdale poem.
Her singing style owes as much to musical theatre as jazz, with the semi-spoken, clearly enunciated works (in English or Estonian) providing a crisp response to the wordless improvisation that she layered with these. In several songs, she introduces characters and take different voices to present these, swapping voices and personalities through the songs. Her band follows her evey move and provides a strong support which, at times (with the fuzzy guitar solos) sounded more New York than Tallinn – but she celebrates her Estonian heritage in choice of traditional poems.
PORTICO QUARTET
Back as a four piece, with Keir Vine on keys and Hang drums, and touring their new ‘Art in the Age of Automation’ CD, the Portico Quartet continue to explore the borders between jazz, post-rock and dance music. The sound mix in the Jazz Arena was well suited to the latter two styles, with Duncan Bellamy’s drums to the fore. He worked his full drum kit, combining this with electronic patterns, to create a sophisticated blend of rhythms that veered from the ethereal to the pulsing. The Hang drum in the hands of Keir Vine continue to provide a unique focal point for the group’s music. But they have continued their development of the tunes. So, for example, the tune ‘Isla’ (which is surely one of modern jazz’s new classics) was introduced at a stately pace before picking up a head of steam and veering into a booming rave tune. Elsewhere, the mix of Line and Rubidium created a particularly hypnotic groove, with Vine repeating the same pattern throughout the tune. Across the set, Jack Wylie’s sax playing (on both sopranino and alto), through scintillating and shimmering effects worked to great effect in the tent. Mylo Fitzpatrick alternated between upright electric bass and a more conventional electric bass, creating solid driving rhythms that kept the whole unit on track.
JIM BLACK’S MALAMUTE
In a festival with a wealth of very good drummers, it was a special treat to get to see someone of such stellar talents as Jim Black. He is one of those bundles of energy behind the drumkit who never stop moving. He is either hitting something or reaching down to pick up something to shake (or hit, or hit something with). Or, in this set, creating and mixing samples of sound with fingers and knuckles on a small pad placed on his floor tom. Often each of these actions occurred simultaneously, so that part of the spectacle was just watching a master at work. If this implies some sort of vaudeville showmanship, then that couldn’t be further from the truth. Black’s rhythm keeping has a concentrated intensity to it, even when it is clearly a spontaneous response to what is happening around him he is clearly continually thinking about the next beat and how to move to that one.
The tunes tended to blend a bass line that had an air of 1980's New Wave rock with Black’s no wave drumming. The rhythm was counterbalanced by the surprisingly mellow saxophone lines of Oskar Gudjonsson, who danced around the stage and leant backward in ever contorted postures to deliver his lines. He was part soloist and part ‘atmosphere-generator’ for the group.
The tunes tended to blend a bass line that had an air of 1980's New Wave rock with Black’s no wave drumming. The rhythm was counterbalanced by the surprisingly mellow saxophone lines of Oskar Gudjonsson, who danced around the stage and leant backward in ever contorted postures to deliver his lines. He was part soloist and part ‘atmosphere-generator’ for the group.
EVAN PARKER’S TRANCE MAP+
I have a recording of Evan Parker playing with Spring Heel Jack from the early 2000’s (with J Spaceman, Matthew Shipp, William Parker and Han Bennink), which works a fairly rocky sort of vibe. Tonight was (as you should always expect with Evan Parker) something completely different. The single improvised piece owed more to the traditions of minimalism than jazz, especially the drone music beloved of people like LaMonte Young. TranceMap+ has three turntables (operated by Spring Heel Jack’s John Coxon and Ashley Wales), a collection of CD players that were passed through a variety of effects pedals (operated by Matt Wright), together with the live players of Parker on soprano and Adam Linson on double bass.
While this was a single work, it split neatly into 3 main sections. The first part began with recorded birdsong, from Wright’s CDs, which were manipulated into chords and clusters over the space of several minutes. Parker sat centre stage, concentrating intently and taking all of this in before he began to build a sax solo in response – a sort of dawn chorus of his own in reply to the birdsong.
Within a very short time, the boundary between cause and effect blurred – musicians looked to be playing their instruments or djs looked to be putting needles on records, but the corresponding sounds did not appear. Rather, everything was being put through a laptop and merged to come out at different times. Sometimes the delay was a couple of seconds, others it might be several minutes.
So, the LPs produced the theme for the next part of the piece, with some eerie Hammer-horror background music which Parker and Linson worked with before the next section was introduced with some lush orchestral strings - I thought I might have heard Vaughan-Williams in the mix but was not sure as each snippet wasn’t long enough to pin down. And this was, I guess, part of the appeal of the piece – that the source of the sounds were stripped of their origin and reconstructed in ways that we as audience could only wonder at.
While this was a single work, it split neatly into 3 main sections. The first part began with recorded birdsong, from Wright’s CDs, which were manipulated into chords and clusters over the space of several minutes. Parker sat centre stage, concentrating intently and taking all of this in before he began to build a sax solo in response – a sort of dawn chorus of his own in reply to the birdsong.
Within a very short time, the boundary between cause and effect blurred – musicians looked to be playing their instruments or djs looked to be putting needles on records, but the corresponding sounds did not appear. Rather, everything was being put through a laptop and merged to come out at different times. Sometimes the delay was a couple of seconds, others it might be several minutes.
So, the LPs produced the theme for the next part of the piece, with some eerie Hammer-horror background music which Parker and Linson worked with before the next section was introduced with some lush orchestral strings - I thought I might have heard Vaughan-Williams in the mix but was not sure as each snippet wasn’t long enough to pin down. And this was, I guess, part of the appeal of the piece – that the source of the sounds were stripped of their origin and reconstructed in ways that we as audience could only wonder at.
Sunday 6th May 2018
WOLVES ARE PEOPLE TOO
While the idea of jazz mixing with ballet has an illustrious history, it is not commonplace at the Cheltenham Festival. No one could think of a previous occasion when a full jazz group was joined on stage by ballet dancers, especially not a troupe as illustrious as Birmingham Royal Ballet.
In this performance, five dancers, choreographed by Kit Holder provided a memorable and moving interpretation of David Austin-Grey’s sumptuous score, played by his band, Hansu Tori (the band’s name mixes Korean for ‘water’ and Japanese for ‘bird’). This was a reduced version (in terms of the corps de ballet) from the ensemble that had performed a couple of years ago in Birmingham, but the reduced cast lost none of the vitality and intensity of the performance. The music and libretto are based on Mamoru Hosoda’s anime film Wolf Children (which is the story of two children, half-wolf, half-human, as they grow up, suffering the taunts of other children, losing their father, and finding love). The dancers indicated their vulpine nature by either wearing parkas with fur hoods or wolf masks, and there was a very moving scene when the dancer playing the children’s young mother danced with an empty parka when their father dies.
Austin-Grey’s music, often in 3/4 time, provided plenty of space for the soloists in Hansu Tori, with some particularly bright sax and flute solos. While this might suggest that the bulk of the music had a waltz-like tempo, there were sections that picked up the pace (particularly in the entre-acts) and other sections that mixed electronic sounds over haunting singing. Vocalist, Eliza Shaddad, delivered the lyrics with emotion and panache. I particularly liked the way in which she took on the role of schoolteacher in one section, blurring the boundary between dancers and band.
In this performance, five dancers, choreographed by Kit Holder provided a memorable and moving interpretation of David Austin-Grey’s sumptuous score, played by his band, Hansu Tori (the band’s name mixes Korean for ‘water’ and Japanese for ‘bird’). This was a reduced version (in terms of the corps de ballet) from the ensemble that had performed a couple of years ago in Birmingham, but the reduced cast lost none of the vitality and intensity of the performance. The music and libretto are based on Mamoru Hosoda’s anime film Wolf Children (which is the story of two children, half-wolf, half-human, as they grow up, suffering the taunts of other children, losing their father, and finding love). The dancers indicated their vulpine nature by either wearing parkas with fur hoods or wolf masks, and there was a very moving scene when the dancer playing the children’s young mother danced with an empty parka when their father dies.
Austin-Grey’s music, often in 3/4 time, provided plenty of space for the soloists in Hansu Tori, with some particularly bright sax and flute solos. While this might suggest that the bulk of the music had a waltz-like tempo, there were sections that picked up the pace (particularly in the entre-acts) and other sections that mixed electronic sounds over haunting singing. Vocalist, Eliza Shaddad, delivered the lyrics with emotion and panache. I particularly liked the way in which she took on the role of schoolteacher in one section, blurring the boundary between dancers and band.
ANDY SHEPPARD QUARTET
I have been enjoying the new Romaria album and this performance played it in its entirety, changing the running order and providing each tune with a new twist.
Listening to Aarset’s playing of guitar and effects was mesmerising. You get the impression from the recroding that here is a maestro of the electronically treated guitar, but seeing him play live shows how perfectly he manages the collection of pedals and controls that were laid out on the guitar flight-case that he sat behind. At times, he was a lead guitarist (playing some smoking lines on ‘They came from the north’), at others he was a rhythm guitarist, but most of the time he was a one man string section layering sound on sound over the music. In one of two places, the sounds that he created moved further into electronica with some playful bursts of noise over which Sheppard placed bursts of soprano sax.
Rochford sat at the back centre of the stage, keeping time with magisterial precision. As ‘They came from the north’ drew to close (with Sheppard standing in front of the drums to goad him on), Rochford built up a crashing drum solo that alternated light and shade and didn’t pause for breath. At the end of it, the audience collectively exhaled and sat back exhausted for him. Benita’s bass playing treads a nice line between marking the rhythm and commenting on Sheppard’s playing, occasionally working some very fine bass solos. Sheppard’s sound was, as you would expect, warmly lyrical, but felt especially tender in this outing. It was no big surprise when they played ‘And I Love Her’ as their encore, which he introduced with the dedication that it was to help release the 16 year body trapped in our current bodies.
Listening to Aarset’s playing of guitar and effects was mesmerising. You get the impression from the recroding that here is a maestro of the electronically treated guitar, but seeing him play live shows how perfectly he manages the collection of pedals and controls that were laid out on the guitar flight-case that he sat behind. At times, he was a lead guitarist (playing some smoking lines on ‘They came from the north’), at others he was a rhythm guitarist, but most of the time he was a one man string section layering sound on sound over the music. In one of two places, the sounds that he created moved further into electronica with some playful bursts of noise over which Sheppard placed bursts of soprano sax.
Rochford sat at the back centre of the stage, keeping time with magisterial precision. As ‘They came from the north’ drew to close (with Sheppard standing in front of the drums to goad him on), Rochford built up a crashing drum solo that alternated light and shade and didn’t pause for breath. At the end of it, the audience collectively exhaled and sat back exhausted for him. Benita’s bass playing treads a nice line between marking the rhythm and commenting on Sheppard’s playing, occasionally working some very fine bass solos. Sheppard’s sound was, as you would expect, warmly lyrical, but felt especially tender in this outing. It was no big surprise when they played ‘And I Love Her’ as their encore, which he introduced with the dedication that it was to help release the 16 year body trapped in our current bodies.
DONNY McCASLIN
For most of the audience McCaslin is the saxophonist who played on David Bowie’s marvellous Blackstar album and, of course, he acknowledged this by playing ‘Lazarus’ at the end of the set. But he clearly wanted to show us that this was not his only bag – although, of course, it was the hard edge of the McCaslin’s group as a jazz-rock band that Bowie liked as much as their ability to mix up styles.
The band opened with a couple of bruising jazz-rock numbers – with the emphasis on rock (and the sound turned up to 11…). McCaslin has a well-rounded blues tone to his playing and moves up and down the register with ease. In this set, he delighted in finding and repeating phrases that worked around the rhythm, pointing to his fellow band-mates when he wanted them to take a solo. Jason Lindner on keys created a wave of sound, with dizzying solo work and splashes of effects. Kevin Scott’s bass rocked hard, with Zach Danziger providing hard-hitting percussion. After the initial pummelling, they moved into a reggae tune.
I tend to feel a little squeamish when a rock band says it is going to play reggae (with the exception, of course, of The Clash) and so wondered what on earth they’d do. McCaslin explained that he’d grown up listening to reggae and the piece worked a very convincing groove, veering into the dub-reggae space – but even this took the hard line with thundering drums and sparking keys. Before the closing number, McCaslin blew a solo – pushing bass notes out to reverberate around the tent and then weaving higher notes around their echoes. This worked as a very effective ballad, with prolonged spirals of notes, and ending in some bubbling effects on his sax.
To say that ‘Lazarus’ gave the audience what they’d come to hear rather misses the fact that they might not have known what to expect but were left in no doubt that here was a band that meant business and could explode any venue.
The band opened with a couple of bruising jazz-rock numbers – with the emphasis on rock (and the sound turned up to 11…). McCaslin has a well-rounded blues tone to his playing and moves up and down the register with ease. In this set, he delighted in finding and repeating phrases that worked around the rhythm, pointing to his fellow band-mates when he wanted them to take a solo. Jason Lindner on keys created a wave of sound, with dizzying solo work and splashes of effects. Kevin Scott’s bass rocked hard, with Zach Danziger providing hard-hitting percussion. After the initial pummelling, they moved into a reggae tune.
I tend to feel a little squeamish when a rock band says it is going to play reggae (with the exception, of course, of The Clash) and so wondered what on earth they’d do. McCaslin explained that he’d grown up listening to reggae and the piece worked a very convincing groove, veering into the dub-reggae space – but even this took the hard line with thundering drums and sparking keys. Before the closing number, McCaslin blew a solo – pushing bass notes out to reverberate around the tent and then weaving higher notes around their echoes. This worked as a very effective ballad, with prolonged spirals of notes, and ending in some bubbling effects on his sax.
To say that ‘Lazarus’ gave the audience what they’d come to hear rather misses the fact that they might not have known what to expect but were left in no doubt that here was a band that meant business and could explode any venue.
KAMASI WASHINGTON
‘Wassup Cheltnum’ cried Washington, explaining that he’d been ‘schooled’ so as not to say ‘Chelt-ing-ham’ like an American. While everyone must surely have heard of Washington and the way that he is the brightest star in today’s jazz firmament, I’m not sure that we were prepared for how humble and modest he was. What I took from the performance was not simply the barnstorming solos of Washington, his father Rickey (on flute) and their band-mates but the way that the whole band turned and faced whoever was taking the solo. There’s a level of respect in this simple act that defines the band and what it stands for. This is, of course, a political band and part of Washington’s charm and charisma is that he tells his truth in an unvarnished and compelling manner, but does so jovially and engagingly. So it is left the singer Patrice Quinn, on their take of ‘Fists of Fury’ (from the Bruce Lee film) to repeat ‘our time as victims is over. We will not ask for justice. Instead we will take our retribution’, with increasing indignation and emphasising different words each time.
The set opened with tracks from The Epic album, culminating in Brandon Coleman pulverising the keyboard in a series of crescendos – you wondered, where could go from here… and the answer was always ‘louder’ and ‘faster’. If this display of musical prowess had the audience whooping in delight, Miles Moseley’s bass solo had jaws dropping as a he switched from pizzicato to arco, and then frenziedly sawed at the strings with his bow.
Washington’s group, with twin drum attack, saxophone, trombone, flute / soprano sax, and vocals, blew the roof of the Big Top, almost as much as the audience did when it rose in loud and prolonged applause in recognition of a modest hero. If you haven’t bought The Epic (Washington’s first CD) make sure you get it before ‘Heaven and Hell’ (his second CD comes out) – you don’t need to listen to one before the other, but you will definitely want to own both.
The set opened with tracks from The Epic album, culminating in Brandon Coleman pulverising the keyboard in a series of crescendos – you wondered, where could go from here… and the answer was always ‘louder’ and ‘faster’. If this display of musical prowess had the audience whooping in delight, Miles Moseley’s bass solo had jaws dropping as a he switched from pizzicato to arco, and then frenziedly sawed at the strings with his bow.
Washington’s group, with twin drum attack, saxophone, trombone, flute / soprano sax, and vocals, blew the roof of the Big Top, almost as much as the audience did when it rose in loud and prolonged applause in recognition of a modest hero. If you haven’t bought The Epic (Washington’s first CD) make sure you get it before ‘Heaven and Hell’ (his second CD comes out) – you don’t need to listen to one before the other, but you will definitely want to own both.
ARUN GHOSH
Ghosh’s bandcamp profile says that he was ‘conceived in Calcutta (Kolkata), bred in Bolton, matured in Manchester and now living in London’. This not only encapsulates a British-Asian experience, but also explains the title of his new album – ‘but where are you really from?’ On record, the music mixes rock and dance with melodies that approach the ambient. On stage, tonight’s band deliver the pieces with a much stronger jazz focus (while Marli Wren’s bass lines continue to rock, Tansay Omar’s drumming mixes a variety of Indo-Jazz themes). This is partly due to the combination of Chris Williams (also part of Led Bib) on alto sax and Chelsea Charmichael’s (of NYJO’s Jazz Messengers) on tenor sax, as counter to Ghosh’s vivid clarinet playing. When he’s not blowing his deliciously clean clarinet lines, Ghosh is continually moving – bouncing and dancing to the music, beaming at his band mates to encourage their solos and providing a lively chatter between tunes.
The tunes themselves carry hints of Indian music but these are mixed with a driving beat that comes straight from Manchester’s heady ‘90s and viewed through a lens of electronics and keyboard effects (ably provided by Jessica Lauren, who played some short solos, but could, I thought, have featured more in the set). The packed Parabola Theatre responded enthusiastically to the set and the standing ovation was, perhaps, a little overwhelming for the band – but much deserved.
The tunes themselves carry hints of Indian music but these are mixed with a driving beat that comes straight from Manchester’s heady ‘90s and viewed through a lens of electronics and keyboard effects (ably provided by Jessica Lauren, who played some short solos, but could, I thought, have featured more in the set). The packed Parabola Theatre responded enthusiastically to the set and the standing ovation was, perhaps, a little overwhelming for the band – but much deserved.
VEIN with STAN SULZMAN
The set opened with soft version of Sulzman’s ‘Lakeside’, in which the players eased into their respective roles. The trio have long perfected the delicate balancing act between chamber music and jazz (particularly in their interpretations of the Impressionism of Maurice Ravel – although, of course, he was fascinated by jazz and wrote several pieces that were specifically intended to be played as jazz).
There is an obvious fit between Sulzman’s relaxed playing and the band’s style. Following the opener, the group launched into a couple of pieces by Florian Arbenz, the drummer. Here the time signatures showed by interesting variation, and the tunes themselves seemed to morph from bar to bar – so there was little variation locally but you kept finding yourself (as listener) in a different place to where you’d begun. Throughout these shifts, Sulzman kept a calm and cool lead, responding beautifully to the changes in direction of the group. There was a hypnotic ebb and flow to the music, as its elegance often obscured the underlying complexity in the compositions. A sign, I think of a well composed tune, is that you are drawn into the harmonies and rhythms, and then discover the hidden depths as you listen.
There is an obvious fit between Sulzman’s relaxed playing and the band’s style. Following the opener, the group launched into a couple of pieces by Florian Arbenz, the drummer. Here the time signatures showed by interesting variation, and the tunes themselves seemed to morph from bar to bar – so there was little variation locally but you kept finding yourself (as listener) in a different place to where you’d begun. Throughout these shifts, Sulzman kept a calm and cool lead, responding beautifully to the changes in direction of the group. There was a hypnotic ebb and flow to the music, as its elegance often obscured the underlying complexity in the compositions. A sign, I think of a well composed tune, is that you are drawn into the harmonies and rhythms, and then discover the hidden depths as you listen.
