Festival report by Chris Baber
Thanks to Bairbre Lloyd and her colleagues in the PR and Communications department of Cheltenham Festivals, Chris Baber had the opportunity to attend a bunch of gigs at this year’s Jazz festival over Friday, Saturday and Sunday.
Thanks to Bairbre Lloyd and her colleagues in the PR and Communications department of Cheltenham Festivals, Chris Baber had the opportunity to attend a bunch of gigs at this year’s Jazz festival over Friday, Saturday and Sunday.
FRIDAY 3rd MAY: PARABOLA ART’S CENTRE
Photograph by Wolfgang Siesing
SUNLIGHT:
SOWETO KINCH, ANDREAS SCHAERER, KALLE KALIMA
Schaerer is an understated force-of-nature, who takes the art of beat-boxing to wholly unexpected levels. Indeed, to call the vocal sounds that he makes simply ‘beat-boxing’ does him a disservice, but there is no word that captures what he does with his voice. There are elements of throat singing in the way that he carries a drone and adds higher notes to this – but he does this at the same time as producing beats, clicks, squawks and chirps. Not only does he make these noises, but he also has a singing voice that covers a few octaves and what seems to be near perfect pitch (as he echoed tenor and alto saxophone sounds). Hearing him on record is impressive, but you can never quite shake the impression that there are overdubs at play. Live, you can see, and marvel at, the way these sounds are combined with no technical trickery. Admittedly, his microphone passes through some effects pedals but these are just to add light distortion or reverb and do nothing to duplicate or add to the noises he makes. The whole performance is so impressive that even if co-performers would look to him for direction or simply to marvel at what he was doing as he paced the stage. Creating these sounds involves such intense concentration that he rarely show-boats or draws attention to how he is working, but focuses on the making and merging of sounds and his role as beat maker, chorus and singer in the group. The opener had a chord structure and rhythm that reminded me of the standard tune ‘A nightingale sang in Berkeley square’, with Schaerer adding bird calls before shifting to trademark vocalese which led to Kalima producing a grunge guitar riff over which Kinch layered tenor sax. For the most part, when Schaerer sang, he was producing words that were a mixture of his made-up language, where vowels follow the notes and consonants are as likely to be clicks or pops (like one of the languages from the south of Africa) as fricatives (from north Europe). On one track, he sung words in Finnish (composed by Kalima’s partner), and clearly relished the meaning and emotionally intensity of the words; although, for this audience, the words here were less significant than the singing. Following the opener, the trio switched to a musical style that was closer to hip-hop, with Kinch rapping about sunlight (from which the trio took their name) and how it is both a tonic and a disinfectant and how we should open our eyes to be enlightened. This rap was repeated later in the set, growing out of a different musical background. On the rap, Schaerer’s role was initially a more traditional beat-boxer, but as Kalima shifted musical style to strummed chords with twang-heavy reverb that conjured a sense of Western plains, then Schaerer sang in a style that reminded me of Portuguese Fado in its languid lamentation and which encouraged a delicate alto solo from Kinch. For much of the set, Kinch played tenor and produced some muscular solos that worked with Kalima’s rocking guitar, with Schaerer punctuating these duets with beats, squawks, squeals and falsetto singing. Elsewhere, a pre-recorded, multitrack backing invited the trio to respond to the changes, but their performance was much more effective when the bounced off each other. Kalima and Kinch both played well, but it was impossible to take your eyes (and ears) off Schaerer – not only the audience but also his fellow players.
SOWETO KINCH, ANDREAS SCHAERER, KALLE KALIMA
Schaerer is an understated force-of-nature, who takes the art of beat-boxing to wholly unexpected levels. Indeed, to call the vocal sounds that he makes simply ‘beat-boxing’ does him a disservice, but there is no word that captures what he does with his voice. There are elements of throat singing in the way that he carries a drone and adds higher notes to this – but he does this at the same time as producing beats, clicks, squawks and chirps. Not only does he make these noises, but he also has a singing voice that covers a few octaves and what seems to be near perfect pitch (as he echoed tenor and alto saxophone sounds). Hearing him on record is impressive, but you can never quite shake the impression that there are overdubs at play. Live, you can see, and marvel at, the way these sounds are combined with no technical trickery. Admittedly, his microphone passes through some effects pedals but these are just to add light distortion or reverb and do nothing to duplicate or add to the noises he makes. The whole performance is so impressive that even if co-performers would look to him for direction or simply to marvel at what he was doing as he paced the stage. Creating these sounds involves such intense concentration that he rarely show-boats or draws attention to how he is working, but focuses on the making and merging of sounds and his role as beat maker, chorus and singer in the group. The opener had a chord structure and rhythm that reminded me of the standard tune ‘A nightingale sang in Berkeley square’, with Schaerer adding bird calls before shifting to trademark vocalese which led to Kalima producing a grunge guitar riff over which Kinch layered tenor sax. For the most part, when Schaerer sang, he was producing words that were a mixture of his made-up language, where vowels follow the notes and consonants are as likely to be clicks or pops (like one of the languages from the south of Africa) as fricatives (from north Europe). On one track, he sung words in Finnish (composed by Kalima’s partner), and clearly relished the meaning and emotionally intensity of the words; although, for this audience, the words here were less significant than the singing. Following the opener, the trio switched to a musical style that was closer to hip-hop, with Kinch rapping about sunlight (from which the trio took their name) and how it is both a tonic and a disinfectant and how we should open our eyes to be enlightened. This rap was repeated later in the set, growing out of a different musical background. On the rap, Schaerer’s role was initially a more traditional beat-boxer, but as Kalima shifted musical style to strummed chords with twang-heavy reverb that conjured a sense of Western plains, then Schaerer sang in a style that reminded me of Portuguese Fado in its languid lamentation and which encouraged a delicate alto solo from Kinch. For much of the set, Kinch played tenor and produced some muscular solos that worked with Kalima’s rocking guitar, with Schaerer punctuating these duets with beats, squawks, squeals and falsetto singing. Elsewhere, a pre-recorded, multitrack backing invited the trio to respond to the changes, but their performance was much more effective when the bounced off each other. Kalima and Kinch both played well, but it was impossible to take your eyes (and ears) off Schaerer – not only the audience but also his fellow players.
Photograph by John Fowler
PARTISANS
From the opening notes of Parker’s klact-oveeseds-tene, played at lightning speed by Phil Robson on guitar and Julian Siegel on sax (which introduces their tune ‘Max’ from around 2005), you not only knew you were in for a great gig but also a vintage Partisans performance. You could, I guess, be forgiven for a slight trepidation, given that this is a band with a long history and the obvious discomfort with which bassist Thaddeus Kelly walked on to the stage. But as soon as they launched into the first tune, you also knew that has played continuously together for 24 years and that the rhythmic sense of Kelly and drummer Gene Calderazzo is as solid as ever.Tonight they also showed that, on the heavier numbers, they could give younger bands a run for their money. Indeed, there are many bands on today’s scene, playing hard-edged post-jazz that owe a debt to the trail that Partisans blazed. Their music merges the heaviness of rock with the intricacy of post-bop, often shifting back and forth between these idioms in the same tune. The heaviness could be due not only to their back-catalogue but also to Robson’s recent move to New York where, according to Siegel, he is ‘ripping it up’ and the influence of the contemporary New York scene on him and Calderazzo (a native New Yorker). Robson has the effortless ability to play light or heavy without changing stance or even making the ‘guitar hero’ gurning or posing that seems to afflict other players. As always, Kelly drives the pulse of each piece, with Calderazzo adding snare and ride cymbal flourishes with gleeful abandon. For me, it was on the slower tracks that the quartet really showed their mettle, particularly in the ways in which Robson and Siegel are note-perfect in mirroring each other on complex, intricate lines. A couple of times, Robson introduced an extra line or two in his solo, causing a glance and wry smile from Siegel before they broke into the same line instantaneously. As well as the ability of the quartet to play seamlessly, there is also a warm humour in their playing and in their naming of tunes. The titles come from everyday experience on the road or at home and not only does this naming give an immediacy to the piece but it also emphasises the narrative quality of the pieces; there is a sense that each piece is not only evoking a sensation but also putting this in the context of a story, which creates a lyrical structure from which improvisation can build. One piece is called ‘That’s not his bag’, which Siegel introduced by saying that the title has nothing to do with James Brown but everything to do with flying Easy Jet. Robson introduces one of his compositions, ‘3.15 on the dot’, by telling us about his recent move to the States and the fact that he has a lot of interesting wildlife coming into his garden, one of which is a ground hog that he has named Barry and that arrives at a particular time each day. Although they have nominally been a band for all these years, much of the time has seen each of them making a living with other artists and on other recordings, so having them together is something of an event. As Siegel points, they are also promoting their first live album. While their studio albums have featured guest musicians on one or two tracks, this is a quartet that knows their tunes inside out.
From the opening notes of Parker’s klact-oveeseds-tene, played at lightning speed by Phil Robson on guitar and Julian Siegel on sax (which introduces their tune ‘Max’ from around 2005), you not only knew you were in for a great gig but also a vintage Partisans performance. You could, I guess, be forgiven for a slight trepidation, given that this is a band with a long history and the obvious discomfort with which bassist Thaddeus Kelly walked on to the stage. But as soon as they launched into the first tune, you also knew that has played continuously together for 24 years and that the rhythmic sense of Kelly and drummer Gene Calderazzo is as solid as ever.Tonight they also showed that, on the heavier numbers, they could give younger bands a run for their money. Indeed, there are many bands on today’s scene, playing hard-edged post-jazz that owe a debt to the trail that Partisans blazed. Their music merges the heaviness of rock with the intricacy of post-bop, often shifting back and forth between these idioms in the same tune. The heaviness could be due not only to their back-catalogue but also to Robson’s recent move to New York where, according to Siegel, he is ‘ripping it up’ and the influence of the contemporary New York scene on him and Calderazzo (a native New Yorker). Robson has the effortless ability to play light or heavy without changing stance or even making the ‘guitar hero’ gurning or posing that seems to afflict other players. As always, Kelly drives the pulse of each piece, with Calderazzo adding snare and ride cymbal flourishes with gleeful abandon. For me, it was on the slower tracks that the quartet really showed their mettle, particularly in the ways in which Robson and Siegel are note-perfect in mirroring each other on complex, intricate lines. A couple of times, Robson introduced an extra line or two in his solo, causing a glance and wry smile from Siegel before they broke into the same line instantaneously. As well as the ability of the quartet to play seamlessly, there is also a warm humour in their playing and in their naming of tunes. The titles come from everyday experience on the road or at home and not only does this naming give an immediacy to the piece but it also emphasises the narrative quality of the pieces; there is a sense that each piece is not only evoking a sensation but also putting this in the context of a story, which creates a lyrical structure from which improvisation can build. One piece is called ‘That’s not his bag’, which Siegel introduced by saying that the title has nothing to do with James Brown but everything to do with flying Easy Jet. Robson introduces one of his compositions, ‘3.15 on the dot’, by telling us about his recent move to the States and the fact that he has a lot of interesting wildlife coming into his garden, one of which is a ground hog that he has named Barry and that arrives at a particular time each day. Although they have nominally been a band for all these years, much of the time has seen each of them making a living with other artists and on other recordings, so having them together is something of an event. As Siegel points, they are also promoting their first live album. While their studio albums have featured guest musicians on one or two tracks, this is a quartet that knows their tunes inside out.
SATURDAY 4th MAY
ALFA MIST (JAZZ ARENA)
Last week, Alfa Mist released his latest album, ‘Structuralism’, and this set provided an introduction to tunes from it together with pieces from his ‘Antiphon’ and ‘Nocturnes’ recordings. His music mixes together contemporary urban styles such as trance or hip-hop (on several tracks, he raps) with arrangements that have a cinematic scope (he has a penchant for the film scores of Hans Zimmer, and Mist’s tunes often have a brooding melancholy) and nu-jazz. While this was not a dancing audience, seated in rows in the Jazz Arena made it tricky to stand, there was plenty of evidence of nodding heads and tapping feet, so in a different venue I could imagine the audience could be invited to stand up and dance. The set also emphasised Mist’s compositional skills. Often the pieces would work with what, at first sounded like a simple two-chord progression but which you could hear slight shifts on tonal centre, rather like Mist is composing a sort of hip-hop minimalism. At this gig, the jazz was brought to the fore by some excellent trumpet and flugelhorn playing by Johnny Woodham, who has a clear and delicate tone through one microphone and used a second microphone to produce layered and subtle distortion. The jazz feel was further emphasised by Jamie Leeming’s finely textured guitar playing and Mist’s keyboards (particularly on the Fender). On the down side, the mix made Mist’s grand piano also sound like a synthesizer. Below the chords, the rhythm section worked the familiar two-step, nu-jazz groove and what was most impressive was the ways in which Jamie Houghton was able to break this hypnotic pattern to create space for solos, and Kaya Thomas-Dyke could shift from marking time on the bass to adding swift, intricate runs. Thomas-Dyke also added backing vocals and took lead vocal on ‘Falling’. Mist also developed a rapport with the audience, explaining the context behind his raps and a moving account of how his Ugandan grandmother moved in with his family in London but could speak no English and he could speak no Lugandan, so he felt he had missed the chance for form a bond with her – which led him to the write ‘Jjajja’s screen’ for her. This piece brought together the mix of musical styles that Mist has forged into his own musical identity and was a highlight of the show and the festival for me.
Last week, Alfa Mist released his latest album, ‘Structuralism’, and this set provided an introduction to tunes from it together with pieces from his ‘Antiphon’ and ‘Nocturnes’ recordings. His music mixes together contemporary urban styles such as trance or hip-hop (on several tracks, he raps) with arrangements that have a cinematic scope (he has a penchant for the film scores of Hans Zimmer, and Mist’s tunes often have a brooding melancholy) and nu-jazz. While this was not a dancing audience, seated in rows in the Jazz Arena made it tricky to stand, there was plenty of evidence of nodding heads and tapping feet, so in a different venue I could imagine the audience could be invited to stand up and dance. The set also emphasised Mist’s compositional skills. Often the pieces would work with what, at first sounded like a simple two-chord progression but which you could hear slight shifts on tonal centre, rather like Mist is composing a sort of hip-hop minimalism. At this gig, the jazz was brought to the fore by some excellent trumpet and flugelhorn playing by Johnny Woodham, who has a clear and delicate tone through one microphone and used a second microphone to produce layered and subtle distortion. The jazz feel was further emphasised by Jamie Leeming’s finely textured guitar playing and Mist’s keyboards (particularly on the Fender). On the down side, the mix made Mist’s grand piano also sound like a synthesizer. Below the chords, the rhythm section worked the familiar two-step, nu-jazz groove and what was most impressive was the ways in which Jamie Houghton was able to break this hypnotic pattern to create space for solos, and Kaya Thomas-Dyke could shift from marking time on the bass to adding swift, intricate runs. Thomas-Dyke also added backing vocals and took lead vocal on ‘Falling’. Mist also developed a rapport with the audience, explaining the context behind his raps and a moving account of how his Ugandan grandmother moved in with his family in London but could speak no English and he could speak no Lugandan, so he felt he had missed the chance for form a bond with her – which led him to the write ‘Jjajja’s screen’ for her. This piece brought together the mix of musical styles that Mist has forged into his own musical identity and was a highlight of the show and the festival for me.
Photograph by Tim Dickeson
JOHN SURMAN, JOHN WARREN AND THE BRASS PROJECT LIVE (TOWN HALL)
As part of his 75th birthday year, John Surman has decided to return to one of his best loved projects. In the 1980s, Surman had the idea of having his trio (Chris Laurence on bass and John Marshall on drums were very much part of this project and this concert) playing with a brass ensemble. Working with Canadian composer, John Warren, a series of pieces were created. Some of these were released as ‘The Brass Project’ on ECM in 1992. Today’s set began with the tone poem ‘The Traveller’s Tale’ (which John Warren composed as a celebration of the life and times of his grandfather), of which there is a live recording from 1993 and released last year. I think that the set presented this piece in its entirety (we didn’t get track names but the pieces sounded very much like the release of this suite). In his introductory remarks, Surman pointed out that previous performances had featured such luminaries as Kenny Wheeler, Henry Lowther or Guy Barker on trumpet, which almost felt like a challenge to the brass musicians on stage with him. Today’s set featured young players from the Birmingham Conservatoire: 4 trumpets and 4 trombones (including 2 bass trombones). There had only been a day’s rehearsal prior to the gig and so it is to the credit of all concerned that the pieces flowed so seamlessly. It is also worth noting the way that the older players here responded to their young compatriots with youthful vim and vigour. To complicate matters, there was an odd configuration, with Surman on one side of the stage, and two rows of brass musicians on the opposite – Warren was front centre stage, and Laurence and Marshall at the back between the band and Surman (indeed, at the end of the gig, Marshall wasn’t able to get around his kit so had to lean over it to take the applause). Following a slowly unfurling fanfare by the ensemble, Surman plays bass clarinet, with soft cymbal edge accompaniment and the brass ensemble playing chords as the piece progresses. Following this, Surman swapped to bass saxophone as the rhythm moved to something closer to swing. Then the ensemble played one of several pieces where Surman sat out. After the first trumpet solo, Surman waved an avuncular hand towards the trumpet player and encouraged the audience to applaud. On one track (I think ‘Elegy’), Laurence played a spell-binding bass solo that was a master-class in arco playing with a whole host of sounds that you wouldn’t believe a bass could make (and which differs from the equally exciting solo he produced on the album). Marshall also took a great solo towards the end of the set. Throughout Surman, playing bass clarinet, bass saxophone, and soprano saxophone, worked around the brass ensemble, keeping his solos clear and precise while Warren conducted the pieces and organised the overall sound.
As part of his 75th birthday year, John Surman has decided to return to one of his best loved projects. In the 1980s, Surman had the idea of having his trio (Chris Laurence on bass and John Marshall on drums were very much part of this project and this concert) playing with a brass ensemble. Working with Canadian composer, John Warren, a series of pieces were created. Some of these were released as ‘The Brass Project’ on ECM in 1992. Today’s set began with the tone poem ‘The Traveller’s Tale’ (which John Warren composed as a celebration of the life and times of his grandfather), of which there is a live recording from 1993 and released last year. I think that the set presented this piece in its entirety (we didn’t get track names but the pieces sounded very much like the release of this suite). In his introductory remarks, Surman pointed out that previous performances had featured such luminaries as Kenny Wheeler, Henry Lowther or Guy Barker on trumpet, which almost felt like a challenge to the brass musicians on stage with him. Today’s set featured young players from the Birmingham Conservatoire: 4 trumpets and 4 trombones (including 2 bass trombones). There had only been a day’s rehearsal prior to the gig and so it is to the credit of all concerned that the pieces flowed so seamlessly. It is also worth noting the way that the older players here responded to their young compatriots with youthful vim and vigour. To complicate matters, there was an odd configuration, with Surman on one side of the stage, and two rows of brass musicians on the opposite – Warren was front centre stage, and Laurence and Marshall at the back between the band and Surman (indeed, at the end of the gig, Marshall wasn’t able to get around his kit so had to lean over it to take the applause). Following a slowly unfurling fanfare by the ensemble, Surman plays bass clarinet, with soft cymbal edge accompaniment and the brass ensemble playing chords as the piece progresses. Following this, Surman swapped to bass saxophone as the rhythm moved to something closer to swing. Then the ensemble played one of several pieces where Surman sat out. After the first trumpet solo, Surman waved an avuncular hand towards the trumpet player and encouraged the audience to applaud. On one track (I think ‘Elegy’), Laurence played a spell-binding bass solo that was a master-class in arco playing with a whole host of sounds that you wouldn’t believe a bass could make (and which differs from the equally exciting solo he produced on the album). Marshall also took a great solo towards the end of the set. Throughout Surman, playing bass clarinet, bass saxophone, and soprano saxophone, worked around the brass ensemble, keeping his solos clear and precise while Warren conducted the pieces and organised the overall sound.
Photograph by Kyle Johnson
DAN WEISS STAREBABY (PARABOLA ART’S CENTRE)
As an in-demand drummer, Dan Weiss is always an act to catch. He is one of those drummers that have a meticulous sense of rhythm and the knack of finding unusual expressions. He is also a player who is continually looking to challenge himself and the context in which he plays. On the evidence of this gig, his aim is to merge the riffs of heavy metal with the unpredictable sounds from sampling, remixing and electronic noise making. To this end, there is probably no better person to call on than Craig Taborn to provide electronica. Added to this, the group had Matt Mitchell on piano, Ben Monder on guitar and Trevor Dunn on electric bass. The first piece began with a striking riff (not out of place, perhaps, on a Metallica record) over which Weiss wrestled increasingly complex rhythms and Taborn adding all manner of eerie sounds. During this piece, the mix had the guitar and piano relatively low, so although it was clear the players were working their socks off, it was no obvious how this was finding its way into the mix (although I did wonder whether these instruments were being sampled and relayed through Taborn’s laptop). In the fact the number of players on stage seemed to complicate matters and the performance took off during the spells when Weiss worked a duet, either with the piano (with Weiss bouncing wonderfully off both Mitchell and Taborn as they swapped places on the piano) and the bass (with a rapid but melodic bass line on a later piece). During these duets, Weiss and the person working with him kept eye contact and developed intricate shifts in rhythm, with the rest of the group seeking space to support and join. As a presentation of the Starebaby album, the band recreated the shifting sense of paranoia, doom and fear that pervades the record. Live, they also create moments of intricacy that lure the audience in before hitting them with the heavier sounds of what I guess could be called avant metal. As someone who is not a big fan on heavy metal music, I should have been turned off by the riff-making, but what Weiss and the rest of the band did was to create sounds that continued to surprise and to find rhythmic tangents that were exciting and intriguing in equal measure, even when the music was pushing towards its more ominous dimensions.
As an in-demand drummer, Dan Weiss is always an act to catch. He is one of those drummers that have a meticulous sense of rhythm and the knack of finding unusual expressions. He is also a player who is continually looking to challenge himself and the context in which he plays. On the evidence of this gig, his aim is to merge the riffs of heavy metal with the unpredictable sounds from sampling, remixing and electronic noise making. To this end, there is probably no better person to call on than Craig Taborn to provide electronica. Added to this, the group had Matt Mitchell on piano, Ben Monder on guitar and Trevor Dunn on electric bass. The first piece began with a striking riff (not out of place, perhaps, on a Metallica record) over which Weiss wrestled increasingly complex rhythms and Taborn adding all manner of eerie sounds. During this piece, the mix had the guitar and piano relatively low, so although it was clear the players were working their socks off, it was no obvious how this was finding its way into the mix (although I did wonder whether these instruments were being sampled and relayed through Taborn’s laptop). In the fact the number of players on stage seemed to complicate matters and the performance took off during the spells when Weiss worked a duet, either with the piano (with Weiss bouncing wonderfully off both Mitchell and Taborn as they swapped places on the piano) and the bass (with a rapid but melodic bass line on a later piece). During these duets, Weiss and the person working with him kept eye contact and developed intricate shifts in rhythm, with the rest of the group seeking space to support and join. As a presentation of the Starebaby album, the band recreated the shifting sense of paranoia, doom and fear that pervades the record. Live, they also create moments of intricacy that lure the audience in before hitting them with the heavier sounds of what I guess could be called avant metal. As someone who is not a big fan on heavy metal music, I should have been turned off by the riff-making, but what Weiss and the rest of the band did was to create sounds that continued to surprise and to find rhythmic tangents that were exciting and intriguing in equal measure, even when the music was pushing towards its more ominous dimensions.
ABDULLAH IBRAHIM AND EKAYA (HENRY WESTON’S BIG TOP)
If you’d come to this gig expecting to hear Abdullah Ibrahim’s exploratory, impressionistic piano style, then you were in luck. The opening, extended solo created such a hush in the circus tent of a venue that, despite some atrocious acoustics (and the intrusion of noise from outside, like dogs barking and child shouting), the audience hung on each note. On the opening solo, there was such a heavy sense of melancholy that the music felt like an accompaniment to a French film about lost love, perhaps called bonjour tristesse – or perhaps Ibrahim is simply playing to appease the loss of fellow musicians who sparked a revolution in South African music and are no longer with us. Indeed, this overwhelming melancholy and ennui infused each of Ibrahim’s delicately crafted solos. If you’d come to hear Ekaya, and the talent on its respective members (Cleave Guyton on flute, piccolo and alto saxophone; Lance Bryant on tenor saxophone; Marshall McDonald on baritone saxophone and Andrae Murchison on trombone, with Noah Jackson on double bass and ‘cello and Will Terrill on drums), then you were also in luck. Band members walked on stage to take solos, often with humorous quotes from other tunes (such as the theme tune from Spiderman for Guyton, or Eleanor Rigby for Bryant). Ekaya also played some of the tunes from the album that they are releasing this year which captures Ibrahim in Ellingtonian mood as a composer. If, however, you’d come to hear pianist and band together, then this was something that only happened intermittently. So, Ibrahim introduced the theme for the title track ‘Jabula’ from the forthcoming album and then sat back while this was taken on a developed by the band. Indeed, the set involved repetitions of the format – individual member walks on stage, takes a solo, and watches while the next does the same, and then band walks off to wait before repeating. It all felt a little disjointed. On the other hand, Jackson playing ‘cello to accompany Guyton, and a drum solo from Terrill were certainly show-stoppers and, of course, when he played the piano everyone listened in rapt attention.
If you’d come to this gig expecting to hear Abdullah Ibrahim’s exploratory, impressionistic piano style, then you were in luck. The opening, extended solo created such a hush in the circus tent of a venue that, despite some atrocious acoustics (and the intrusion of noise from outside, like dogs barking and child shouting), the audience hung on each note. On the opening solo, there was such a heavy sense of melancholy that the music felt like an accompaniment to a French film about lost love, perhaps called bonjour tristesse – or perhaps Ibrahim is simply playing to appease the loss of fellow musicians who sparked a revolution in South African music and are no longer with us. Indeed, this overwhelming melancholy and ennui infused each of Ibrahim’s delicately crafted solos. If you’d come to hear Ekaya, and the talent on its respective members (Cleave Guyton on flute, piccolo and alto saxophone; Lance Bryant on tenor saxophone; Marshall McDonald on baritone saxophone and Andrae Murchison on trombone, with Noah Jackson on double bass and ‘cello and Will Terrill on drums), then you were also in luck. Band members walked on stage to take solos, often with humorous quotes from other tunes (such as the theme tune from Spiderman for Guyton, or Eleanor Rigby for Bryant). Ekaya also played some of the tunes from the album that they are releasing this year which captures Ibrahim in Ellingtonian mood as a composer. If, however, you’d come to hear pianist and band together, then this was something that only happened intermittently. So, Ibrahim introduced the theme for the title track ‘Jabula’ from the forthcoming album and then sat back while this was taken on a developed by the band. Indeed, the set involved repetitions of the format – individual member walks on stage, takes a solo, and watches while the next does the same, and then band walks off to wait before repeating. It all felt a little disjointed. On the other hand, Jackson playing ‘cello to accompany Guyton, and a drum solo from Terrill were certainly show-stoppers and, of course, when he played the piano everyone listened in rapt attention.
SUNDAY 5th MAY
VULA VIEL (PARABOLA ART’S CENTRE)
In a trio setting, with Jim Hart in the drummer seat (rather than on vibes, where I’ve seen him more often) and Ruth Goller on bass, the evocative sounds of Bex Burch’s gyil take centre stage. In larger ensembles, her role is often to provide the structure for soloists (on vibraphone or saxophone) but in this concert her Ghanaian xylophone was the key focus. On a couple of tunes, Burch and Goller added vocals, but the majority of the setting was instrumental. A further change from previous Vula Veil outings was the role of Goller’s bass which, at times, had the feeling of New Wave art-rock which provided a neat contrast to the rolling rhythms that Burch created and to Hart’s swirling drum patterns. A good example of the resulting sound is their tune ‘Well come’, from the new album, which gives a good illustration of their shifting rhythmic patterns. While the xylophone inevitably creates a sense of West African music, there were other pieces that called to mind the music from places much further to the Far East. The tune ‘We are’ had a feeling, for me, of music from Cambodia. Their second album, ‘Do not be afraid’, was released earlier this year, recorded with this line-up. The title track has the line, “do not be afraid of what you believe, be afraid of not believing” and Burch recited this prior to the performance of the piece, making the music (and the words) even more evocative and emotionally intense. I suppose the idea of spending three years in Ghana to learn to make and play the gyil would of itself be a major challenge in ethnomusicology. That Burch has learned and honours this musical tradition, but then adapted it to her own direction is intriguing and the way in which this trio respond to the sounds and rhythms is very exciting.
In a trio setting, with Jim Hart in the drummer seat (rather than on vibes, where I’ve seen him more often) and Ruth Goller on bass, the evocative sounds of Bex Burch’s gyil take centre stage. In larger ensembles, her role is often to provide the structure for soloists (on vibraphone or saxophone) but in this concert her Ghanaian xylophone was the key focus. On a couple of tunes, Burch and Goller added vocals, but the majority of the setting was instrumental. A further change from previous Vula Veil outings was the role of Goller’s bass which, at times, had the feeling of New Wave art-rock which provided a neat contrast to the rolling rhythms that Burch created and to Hart’s swirling drum patterns. A good example of the resulting sound is their tune ‘Well come’, from the new album, which gives a good illustration of their shifting rhythmic patterns. While the xylophone inevitably creates a sense of West African music, there were other pieces that called to mind the music from places much further to the Far East. The tune ‘We are’ had a feeling, for me, of music from Cambodia. Their second album, ‘Do not be afraid’, was released earlier this year, recorded with this line-up. The title track has the line, “do not be afraid of what you believe, be afraid of not believing” and Burch recited this prior to the performance of the piece, making the music (and the words) even more evocative and emotionally intense. I suppose the idea of spending three years in Ghana to learn to make and play the gyil would of itself be a major challenge in ethnomusicology. That Burch has learned and honours this musical tradition, but then adapted it to her own direction is intriguing and the way in which this trio respond to the sounds and rhythms is very exciting.
YAZZ AHMED POLYHYMNIA (JAZZ ARENA)
Yazz Ahmed’s music draws on the arabic rhythms and tunes from her Bahraini heritage and this was evident on the first piece in the set in which a shuffling rhythm underpinned the ensemble playing. Over this Ahmed soloed on flugelhorn and trumpet, moving from a clear microphone to one with effects layered through it. In addition to Ahmed’s playing, this piece also featured a sterling trumpet solo from Alexandra Ridout. The piece closed with the Welsh tune ‘Men of Harlech’, which was a little jarring until she explained that this was what they’d been playing a variation on because that was a song that the Suffragette movement used for their battle song ‘shoulder to shoulder’. This set featured a collection of tunes from Ahmed’s polyhymnia suite which celebrates great women through history. There are tunes inspired by the Suffragettes, Rosa Parks, Mulala Yousafzai, Ruby Bridges, Haifaa al Mansour, and Barbara Thompson were originally created for an all female band. In this set, the twelve musicians on stage augment the Hafla (an Arabic word meaning a family gathering) group of clarinet, piano, vibes, bass and drums, with horns and additional reeds. I particularly enjoyed the way in which the tune ‘2857’ (the number of the bus that Rosa Parks rode) developed from exploratory ambience (one of several pieces in which Raph Wylde used modified coat hangers to bow the edges of the vibes) into a stomping funk, with some neat baritone sax playing from Josie Simmons. As you might expect, the piece dedicated to Barbara Thompson developed complex rhythms and beautiful ensemble playing. Throughout the set, each tune emphasised different musical personalities to reflect their dedicatees while also retaining some of Ahmed’s signature sounds and reintroducing refrains from one tune to another as the suite develops. The album is due to be released later this year, and on the basis of this performance is destined to be one of the best of the year.
Yazz Ahmed’s music draws on the arabic rhythms and tunes from her Bahraini heritage and this was evident on the first piece in the set in which a shuffling rhythm underpinned the ensemble playing. Over this Ahmed soloed on flugelhorn and trumpet, moving from a clear microphone to one with effects layered through it. In addition to Ahmed’s playing, this piece also featured a sterling trumpet solo from Alexandra Ridout. The piece closed with the Welsh tune ‘Men of Harlech’, which was a little jarring until she explained that this was what they’d been playing a variation on because that was a song that the Suffragette movement used for their battle song ‘shoulder to shoulder’. This set featured a collection of tunes from Ahmed’s polyhymnia suite which celebrates great women through history. There are tunes inspired by the Suffragettes, Rosa Parks, Mulala Yousafzai, Ruby Bridges, Haifaa al Mansour, and Barbara Thompson were originally created for an all female band. In this set, the twelve musicians on stage augment the Hafla (an Arabic word meaning a family gathering) group of clarinet, piano, vibes, bass and drums, with horns and additional reeds. I particularly enjoyed the way in which the tune ‘2857’ (the number of the bus that Rosa Parks rode) developed from exploratory ambience (one of several pieces in which Raph Wylde used modified coat hangers to bow the edges of the vibes) into a stomping funk, with some neat baritone sax playing from Josie Simmons. As you might expect, the piece dedicated to Barbara Thompson developed complex rhythms and beautiful ensemble playing. Throughout the set, each tune emphasised different musical personalities to reflect their dedicatees while also retaining some of Ahmed’s signature sounds and reintroducing refrains from one tune to another as the suite develops. The album is due to be released later this year, and on the basis of this performance is destined to be one of the best of the year.
Photograph by Laurent ML
JULIE CAMPICHE (PARABOLA ART’S CENTRE)
The harp is one of those instruments that each generation of jazz enthusiasts discover anew (think of the playing of Dorothy Ashby or Alice Coltrane, or contemporary players like Edmar Castenada or Brandee Younger). What most of these players offer is an instrument that works like a piano. What Campiche does is to take the harp in other directions. Whether she wraps a scarf between the strings or uses multiple effects pedals and loop pedal, she is continually exploring the possibilities of this instrument. On a later piece, ‘Crowded song’, a simple 6 note refrain on the harp was mixed through the loop pedal into a complex backing for a sax ballad. This piece was introduced with Campiche’s good humoured introduction – she quickly built a rapport with the enthusiastic audience – and she said she wasn’t sure what to play next, but might try this one even though it was new and one that they didn’t normally play live. At the end of the gig, she told the audience that there wasn’t a CD to buy yet (but downloads of tracks were available) but she was happy to take Polaroid photos of the band and audience to sign and give as souvenirs. I felt that she, and the band, were genuinely overwhelmed by how much the audience took them to their hearts. Musically, there was enough musical adventure in her solo playing to easily fill the set, but even more impressive was the way in which the quartet developed around this. So, the opening piece had her pairing a walking bass line with a high treble melody, and the bass line being picked up and taken over the Manu Hagmann on bass as Leo Fumagalli began his sax solo. As the piece developed, Campiche worked a series of effects on her harp so that when it came back in, the sound was wobbly but entirely fitting. She described the piece, ‘Peter, where are you?’, as being about finding your inner Pan – and there is, across the pieces a sense of child-like curiosity in the ways that sounds can be found and combined; as if the ‘grown-ups’ rules should always be questioned. Equally, there was a sense of dark, childhood nightmares in a piece about nuclear waste facilities (which, as Campiche pointed out, would still be storing radioactive waste centuries after the demise of humanity). This piece merged a wide range of sounds, from harsh arco bass playing to ghostly whistling sounds through the sax mouthpieces, with the harp strings being scrapped to produce an eerie sound-scape. From this, the piece swerved to Clemens Kuratle’s motoric beat, reminiscent of Can. Campiche and Fumagalli swapped soloing duties and kept the tunes exciting and interesting. This is definitely an act to look out for over the coming years.
The harp is one of those instruments that each generation of jazz enthusiasts discover anew (think of the playing of Dorothy Ashby or Alice Coltrane, or contemporary players like Edmar Castenada or Brandee Younger). What most of these players offer is an instrument that works like a piano. What Campiche does is to take the harp in other directions. Whether she wraps a scarf between the strings or uses multiple effects pedals and loop pedal, she is continually exploring the possibilities of this instrument. On a later piece, ‘Crowded song’, a simple 6 note refrain on the harp was mixed through the loop pedal into a complex backing for a sax ballad. This piece was introduced with Campiche’s good humoured introduction – she quickly built a rapport with the enthusiastic audience – and she said she wasn’t sure what to play next, but might try this one even though it was new and one that they didn’t normally play live. At the end of the gig, she told the audience that there wasn’t a CD to buy yet (but downloads of tracks were available) but she was happy to take Polaroid photos of the band and audience to sign and give as souvenirs. I felt that she, and the band, were genuinely overwhelmed by how much the audience took them to their hearts. Musically, there was enough musical adventure in her solo playing to easily fill the set, but even more impressive was the way in which the quartet developed around this. So, the opening piece had her pairing a walking bass line with a high treble melody, and the bass line being picked up and taken over the Manu Hagmann on bass as Leo Fumagalli began his sax solo. As the piece developed, Campiche worked a series of effects on her harp so that when it came back in, the sound was wobbly but entirely fitting. She described the piece, ‘Peter, where are you?’, as being about finding your inner Pan – and there is, across the pieces a sense of child-like curiosity in the ways that sounds can be found and combined; as if the ‘grown-ups’ rules should always be questioned. Equally, there was a sense of dark, childhood nightmares in a piece about nuclear waste facilities (which, as Campiche pointed out, would still be storing radioactive waste centuries after the demise of humanity). This piece merged a wide range of sounds, from harsh arco bass playing to ghostly whistling sounds through the sax mouthpieces, with the harp strings being scrapped to produce an eerie sound-scape. From this, the piece swerved to Clemens Kuratle’s motoric beat, reminiscent of Can. Campiche and Fumagalli swapped soloing duties and kept the tunes exciting and interesting. This is definitely an act to look out for over the coming years.
Photograph by Shervin Lainez
THE BAD PLUS (JAZZ ARENA)
Some bands have such a well developed (and well deserved) reputation that a review could simply say, saw the Bad Plus…they were on form as they have always been on each occasion when I have managed to catch them over the past 18 years or so. This set dispensed with the cover versions that the band have on their recordings, and focused on compositions by each of the trio. So, the set was a taster for the new album (although a couple of older tunes crept in, either in quotation in a tune or in their own right). I was also interested to see how the dynamic of the trio would change with Orin Evans on piano. Right from the opening bars and the Monkish experimentation on the first tune, you could see that this was a complete trio who were playing their own music and with everyone an equal member. For the most part, Reid Anderson acted as compere, linking tunes with his own off-beat humour. After the first tune, he joked about playing on the set of the Great British Bake-off, and introducing ‘Wolf Out’ (one of drummer David King’s older pieces) he suggested that the wolf would be in everyone’s top 10 of animals and for some people it would be in their top 5. The playing was very tight and several of the pieces came to the abrupt but perfectly timed finish that has become a staple part of The Bad Plus live performance. What was particularly refreshing about the set was that there were no electronic effects, with everything entirely acoustic, and no need for high volume to get each note clear and true. The music works through the careful scaffolding of rhythmic texture across which riffs and themes unfurl and get replaced; there is a sense of free-wheeling, particularly in Evans’ playing, but never a sense of losing direction. The audience had a blast and it looked like the band were too.
Some bands have such a well developed (and well deserved) reputation that a review could simply say, saw the Bad Plus…they were on form as they have always been on each occasion when I have managed to catch them over the past 18 years or so. This set dispensed with the cover versions that the band have on their recordings, and focused on compositions by each of the trio. So, the set was a taster for the new album (although a couple of older tunes crept in, either in quotation in a tune or in their own right). I was also interested to see how the dynamic of the trio would change with Orin Evans on piano. Right from the opening bars and the Monkish experimentation on the first tune, you could see that this was a complete trio who were playing their own music and with everyone an equal member. For the most part, Reid Anderson acted as compere, linking tunes with his own off-beat humour. After the first tune, he joked about playing on the set of the Great British Bake-off, and introducing ‘Wolf Out’ (one of drummer David King’s older pieces) he suggested that the wolf would be in everyone’s top 10 of animals and for some people it would be in their top 5. The playing was very tight and several of the pieces came to the abrupt but perfectly timed finish that has become a staple part of The Bad Plus live performance. What was particularly refreshing about the set was that there were no electronic effects, with everything entirely acoustic, and no need for high volume to get each note clear and true. The music works through the careful scaffolding of rhythmic texture across which riffs and themes unfurl and get replaced; there is a sense of free-wheeling, particularly in Evans’ playing, but never a sense of losing direction. The audience had a blast and it looked like the band were too.
Photograph by Massimo Municchi
SYLVAIN DARRIFOURQ, VALENTIN CECCALDI, QUENTIN BIARDEAU (PARABOLA ART’S CENTRE)
Originally, this trio was to include French saxophonist Manuel Hermia, but he was unable to play, so Biardeau was drafted in as a last-minute replacement. I arrived at the venue around 30 minutes before they were due on stage and, from behind the closed door of the hall, could hear intense sax playing and drumming. I worried that, if this was the warm up, they might be exhausted by the time the gig started. The set involved long pieces, one from each musician. The opener was ‘On a brule les tartes’ which began with the amplified ‘cello producing sustained notes with overtones and a squally sax. Darrifourq began to rub metal in circles across the cymbal to create different high-pitch drones. As the ‘cello and sax built in intensity and traded a pounding rock riff, so the drummer switched to sticks and pummelled the kit. As the piece grew in intensity it suddenly stopped and the audience, breathless, applauded and cheered. Next, Darrifourq used a ringing kitchen timer, a metal bar that he shot back and forth across the drum to hit the rims, the opening and closing of the snare trap…pretty much any object to hand to make a sound from any part of the drum kit and the result is mesmerising. Equally impressive, as theatre, is when he sits immobile before suddenly bursting into a short frenzy of drumming before sitting still, leaning forward, head down and holding the cymbal – and then repeating this. At one point, the drumming was so aggressive that he had to lean over to drag the bass drum back into place. But this isn’t simply a drummer with an exciting stage style. He is also a masterful percussionist who not only keeps time with absolute precision but also shades each of the pieces to create different rhythmic patterns and textures not matter what the tempo or intensity. Cellist Ceccaldi creates all manner of sounds from what is not a conventional jazz instrument – this could involve tapping his bow on the bridge so that the pick-up buzzes, double stopping, hammering a bass note with his finger and drawing the bow to play accompanying notes, or slides pieces of paper between the strings to produce buzzy distortions. Familiar though the bass and drum are with each other’s playing, it was astonishing at how well assimilated Biardeau became, with his overblowing tenor sound provided an anguished cry across the stranger sounds or working the prog-rock riffs of the heavier parts of the pieces. Each piece was a master class in building tension through quiet repetition, drawing the audience forward in their seats and then hurling wild noise to force you back. Exhilarating.
Originally, this trio was to include French saxophonist Manuel Hermia, but he was unable to play, so Biardeau was drafted in as a last-minute replacement. I arrived at the venue around 30 minutes before they were due on stage and, from behind the closed door of the hall, could hear intense sax playing and drumming. I worried that, if this was the warm up, they might be exhausted by the time the gig started. The set involved long pieces, one from each musician. The opener was ‘On a brule les tartes’ which began with the amplified ‘cello producing sustained notes with overtones and a squally sax. Darrifourq began to rub metal in circles across the cymbal to create different high-pitch drones. As the ‘cello and sax built in intensity and traded a pounding rock riff, so the drummer switched to sticks and pummelled the kit. As the piece grew in intensity it suddenly stopped and the audience, breathless, applauded and cheered. Next, Darrifourq used a ringing kitchen timer, a metal bar that he shot back and forth across the drum to hit the rims, the opening and closing of the snare trap…pretty much any object to hand to make a sound from any part of the drum kit and the result is mesmerising. Equally impressive, as theatre, is when he sits immobile before suddenly bursting into a short frenzy of drumming before sitting still, leaning forward, head down and holding the cymbal – and then repeating this. At one point, the drumming was so aggressive that he had to lean over to drag the bass drum back into place. But this isn’t simply a drummer with an exciting stage style. He is also a masterful percussionist who not only keeps time with absolute precision but also shades each of the pieces to create different rhythmic patterns and textures not matter what the tempo or intensity. Cellist Ceccaldi creates all manner of sounds from what is not a conventional jazz instrument – this could involve tapping his bow on the bridge so that the pick-up buzzes, double stopping, hammering a bass note with his finger and drawing the bow to play accompanying notes, or slides pieces of paper between the strings to produce buzzy distortions. Familiar though the bass and drum are with each other’s playing, it was astonishing at how well assimilated Biardeau became, with his overblowing tenor sound provided an anguished cry across the stranger sounds or working the prog-rock riffs of the heavier parts of the pieces. Each piece was a master class in building tension through quiet repetition, drawing the audience forward in their seats and then hurling wild noise to force you back. Exhilarating.
