|
Overview of the Love Supreme Festival
|
OVERVIEW OF THE LOVE SUPREME FESTIVAL
July 2 & 3, 2016
July 2 & 3, 2016
It’s another ‘British’ summer …the overcast skies reflecting the downcast post-Brexit-vote mood of 90% of the jazz/commercial musical community – who are nothing if not Internationalist in their aspirations and lifestyles, multicultural in their professional and personal communities, and progressive in their political values.And what better tonic to land on the hallowed English turf of the South Downs for the weekend than the inclusive vessel that is ‘Love Supreme’. Now in its fourth year, and still fending off criticism from the jazz ‘purists’, this festival has managed to turn a trick or two to the advantage of the musical community and its fan-base, old and new, local and far-flung.
Within the framework of a ‘Mainstage’ of well-established top names providing razzle-dazzle and classic songs, grooves and riffs, a ‘Big-top’ of International jazz and fusion stars, an ‘Arena’ of up-and-coming worthy festival acts, and a ‘Bandstand’ of largely ‘local’ artists [John L Waters: “the festival’s conscience”], plus sundry clubs and a ‘Lounge’ with off-stage acts, films and DJs, ‘Love Supreme’ has realised a diverse menu at a table attended by families, jazzicenti, afunkionados, explorers and survivors, and many musicians all jostling along without barely a spilt pint… let alone a cross word.
My journey was a typical criss-crossing to various venues to adjacent sets:
….Cecile McLorin Salvant, whose deft and acutely responsive band made sense of wonderfully sidelong takes on great standards like “I Didn’t Know What Time It Was”, was totally in control, engaged with the keen crowd, and I’d say even a little overwhelmed with the warmth and reactions coming from the packed Big-top. Her Ella/Betty Carter/Billie tool-kit in evidence, she manages to be at once traditional in her references, whilst pushing the extended harmonies of the more modern palette.
…. Esperanza Spaulding was heavily emphasizing the dramatic, costumed, persona-creating world of performance in her set - co-created with the late David Bowie’s producer – and even with a large dose of skills and musical prowess in all chairs, rarely transcended the efficiency of a complicated fusion band crossed with an over self-important prog-rocker, to reach out and truly touch people as we know she can.
…..Brad Mehldau and John Schofield and their ‘young’ compadre Mark Guiliana seemed more at ease with the improvised areas available in their newly-constructed set. From the opening ‘Wake-Up!’, through extended cyclical ostinatos in 7/4, and a deep country ballad, to scintillating 16ths over vintage Novation bass station keyboard lines, the trio maintained surging momentum and cascading arrival points. The sounds were a feature of the music for me – the Rhodes had a delay on it that seemed to obfuscate just how sophisticated and rhythmical were the lines at source – emanating more like clusters and wiggly shapes. Where Mehldau was the engine room of ideas, Guiliana was the keeper of the inherent subdivisions and accents, and Scho the sage with his almost Munch-like facial expressions to the yearning scream of his guitar.
….Stanley Clarke, in any environment is a legend, and with a band of youngsters brimming-over with technical prowess and out-to-prove-it passion, he is undiminished. The exchanges with the drums were visually and dynamically circus-like! The two keyboard players contrasting in style and role-play. …and yet somehow this ‘Legend on a road-show’ approach can over-blow into a burden among ‘lesser’ mortals (not intended to reflect specifically on his band) in that the depth of a Herbie, Wayne, Rollins, or an Omar Hakim is needed to lend gravity to the expressive possibilities of the bass in a standard like “Goodbye Pork-pie Hat’, and particularly that of the fusion king, Mr Clarke.
Within the framework of a ‘Mainstage’ of well-established top names providing razzle-dazzle and classic songs, grooves and riffs, a ‘Big-top’ of International jazz and fusion stars, an ‘Arena’ of up-and-coming worthy festival acts, and a ‘Bandstand’ of largely ‘local’ artists [John L Waters: “the festival’s conscience”], plus sundry clubs and a ‘Lounge’ with off-stage acts, films and DJs, ‘Love Supreme’ has realised a diverse menu at a table attended by families, jazzicenti, afunkionados, explorers and survivors, and many musicians all jostling along without barely a spilt pint… let alone a cross word.
My journey was a typical criss-crossing to various venues to adjacent sets:
….Cecile McLorin Salvant, whose deft and acutely responsive band made sense of wonderfully sidelong takes on great standards like “I Didn’t Know What Time It Was”, was totally in control, engaged with the keen crowd, and I’d say even a little overwhelmed with the warmth and reactions coming from the packed Big-top. Her Ella/Betty Carter/Billie tool-kit in evidence, she manages to be at once traditional in her references, whilst pushing the extended harmonies of the more modern palette.
…. Esperanza Spaulding was heavily emphasizing the dramatic, costumed, persona-creating world of performance in her set - co-created with the late David Bowie’s producer – and even with a large dose of skills and musical prowess in all chairs, rarely transcended the efficiency of a complicated fusion band crossed with an over self-important prog-rocker, to reach out and truly touch people as we know she can.
…..Brad Mehldau and John Schofield and their ‘young’ compadre Mark Guiliana seemed more at ease with the improvised areas available in their newly-constructed set. From the opening ‘Wake-Up!’, through extended cyclical ostinatos in 7/4, and a deep country ballad, to scintillating 16ths over vintage Novation bass station keyboard lines, the trio maintained surging momentum and cascading arrival points. The sounds were a feature of the music for me – the Rhodes had a delay on it that seemed to obfuscate just how sophisticated and rhythmical were the lines at source – emanating more like clusters and wiggly shapes. Where Mehldau was the engine room of ideas, Guiliana was the keeper of the inherent subdivisions and accents, and Scho the sage with his almost Munch-like facial expressions to the yearning scream of his guitar.
….Stanley Clarke, in any environment is a legend, and with a band of youngsters brimming-over with technical prowess and out-to-prove-it passion, he is undiminished. The exchanges with the drums were visually and dynamically circus-like! The two keyboard players contrasting in style and role-play. …and yet somehow this ‘Legend on a road-show’ approach can over-blow into a burden among ‘lesser’ mortals (not intended to reflect specifically on his band) in that the depth of a Herbie, Wayne, Rollins, or an Omar Hakim is needed to lend gravity to the expressive possibilities of the bass in a standard like “Goodbye Pork-pie Hat’, and particularly that of the fusion king, Mr Clarke.
photograph by Jane Bonotto
Meanwhile, in the fresh, uncovered air of the more mainstream ‘Mainstage’, seasoned festival goers were demanding accessible and immediately gratifying pleasures of a poppier kind in Miss Lianne La Havas. Again, ‘Love Supreme’ programming proved reliably canny to the treats in store: a fabulous voice with many subtle skills belied by such ease of execution, underpinned by a truly assured personality and a degree of original song-writing twists over her own characterful guitar.
Yet the sublimest of treats was in store: for Grace Jones was to headline the Saturday night. Not any single superlative can express just how honoured we were to witness one of the greats amongst commercial artists on the planet – and let’s face it, after Gil Scott-Heron, Cash, Miles, Prince and Bowie have gone, who is there left who has truly changed the face and flavor of pop music thereafter? And here too, I can identify why jazz and commercial musics can share a stage, several stages, and a Sussex farm for a weekend. It’s all to do with sound and timing. As soon as the band struck up, it bounded a leap or two higher in credential than anything we’d seen all day … the groove was superior. We were listening to the inheritors of the incomparable Sly & Robbie’s chairs ..and more than adequate to the task were her current groove maestros. And just as good jazz is all about the dynamics of the individual voices within the creative whole, so was Grace Jones’ set adorned with a whole palette of identifiable and iconic riffs, hooks, choruses, extended variations and drops, sprinkled majestically across hit after hit. Grace herself moved about like a lioness one minute, and a gazelle the next – displaying alarming insight into the crowds needs, whilst maintaining her intelligence of dialogue and referencing areas that only she can claim to have conceived. Not only did she put paid to all the nonsense spoken about her ‘unreliability’ in the UK press, but she was positively running the stage, the show, the festival!
Yet the sublimest of treats was in store: for Grace Jones was to headline the Saturday night. Not any single superlative can express just how honoured we were to witness one of the greats amongst commercial artists on the planet – and let’s face it, after Gil Scott-Heron, Cash, Miles, Prince and Bowie have gone, who is there left who has truly changed the face and flavor of pop music thereafter? And here too, I can identify why jazz and commercial musics can share a stage, several stages, and a Sussex farm for a weekend. It’s all to do with sound and timing. As soon as the band struck up, it bounded a leap or two higher in credential than anything we’d seen all day … the groove was superior. We were listening to the inheritors of the incomparable Sly & Robbie’s chairs ..and more than adequate to the task were her current groove maestros. And just as good jazz is all about the dynamics of the individual voices within the creative whole, so was Grace Jones’ set adorned with a whole palette of identifiable and iconic riffs, hooks, choruses, extended variations and drops, sprinkled majestically across hit after hit. Grace herself moved about like a lioness one minute, and a gazelle the next – displaying alarming insight into the crowds needs, whilst maintaining her intelligence of dialogue and referencing areas that only she can claim to have conceived. Not only did she put paid to all the nonsense spoken about her ‘unreliability’ in the UK press, but she was positively running the stage, the show, the festival!
Sunday was a less star-studded affair. Although ending as it did with a perfectly programmed sing-along with uncle Burt (Bacharach), it had pedigree abounding. [p.s. I had to leave just before this].
…And heading up the new ‘jazz’ stars was Kamasi Washington, whose Afro-beat pentatonic excursions aren’t my first choice in expressive possibilities of this broad church, nonetheless he produces the desired inclusive and accessible effect of the uninitiated seeing a large live ensemble grooving on original arrangements and extended improvisations.
….Melody Gardot was unfalteringly New York loft in St Germain … the Franco-USA union of bluesy riffs and raw instrumental contributions …what was lacking in compositional and instrumental finesse was made up for in the desire to communicate a drama, an image, an atmosphere.
….Jacob Collier wasted no time utilizing his newly-developed ‘performance platform’, top-lining over the now signature sound of dense parallel vocal harmonies on Stevie Wonder’s ‘Too High’ and taking us into ultra-hip bass reharmonisations on a hip-hop version of Bacharach’s ‘Close To You’, stepping in and out of roles on keyboards, drums, bass and vocals without dropping a stitch. If anything is lacking performance-wise, strangely enough, it is the vocal depth you yearn for, particularly given the choice of material he covers, the originals of which were generated around the voice, by great vocalists. My abiding reaction to this undoubtedly awesome individual talent is that however impressive, isn’t it just a bit lonely up there? Does he look in the mirror in the dressing room after a gig and say “you killed it, bro!” ..?
..meanwhile on the ‘Bandstand’ – or as John L. Walters so eloquently expressed it [in London Jazz News this week] “Love Supreme’s conscience” – arrived Emily Dankworth. Poised in a problematic jazz-folk hinterland [waters successfully navigated by the likes of ‘Carmina’ and June Tabor] Emily managed to lend a jazz intelligence and vocal control to a repetitive folky purity of tone and simplicity of expression.
…And heading up the new ‘jazz’ stars was Kamasi Washington, whose Afro-beat pentatonic excursions aren’t my first choice in expressive possibilities of this broad church, nonetheless he produces the desired inclusive and accessible effect of the uninitiated seeing a large live ensemble grooving on original arrangements and extended improvisations.
….Melody Gardot was unfalteringly New York loft in St Germain … the Franco-USA union of bluesy riffs and raw instrumental contributions …what was lacking in compositional and instrumental finesse was made up for in the desire to communicate a drama, an image, an atmosphere.
….Jacob Collier wasted no time utilizing his newly-developed ‘performance platform’, top-lining over the now signature sound of dense parallel vocal harmonies on Stevie Wonder’s ‘Too High’ and taking us into ultra-hip bass reharmonisations on a hip-hop version of Bacharach’s ‘Close To You’, stepping in and out of roles on keyboards, drums, bass and vocals without dropping a stitch. If anything is lacking performance-wise, strangely enough, it is the vocal depth you yearn for, particularly given the choice of material he covers, the originals of which were generated around the voice, by great vocalists. My abiding reaction to this undoubtedly awesome individual talent is that however impressive, isn’t it just a bit lonely up there? Does he look in the mirror in the dressing room after a gig and say “you killed it, bro!” ..?
..meanwhile on the ‘Bandstand’ – or as John L. Walters so eloquently expressed it [in London Jazz News this week] “Love Supreme’s conscience” – arrived Emily Dankworth. Poised in a problematic jazz-folk hinterland [waters successfully navigated by the likes of ‘Carmina’ and June Tabor] Emily managed to lend a jazz intelligence and vocal control to a repetitive folky purity of tone and simplicity of expression.
Simon Spillet with Jack Kendon and John Donaldson followed this set to wrap up proceedings on this stage with its own rolling programme of less well-publicised UK artists, and younger and more local bands promoted by ‘New Generation Jazz’ – the co-ordinating duo of Jack Kendon and Eddie Myer from Brighton who programme acts at our famous ‘The Verdict’ jazz-club – supported by the Arts Council and partners with the South Coast Jazz Festival.
Simon is establishing himself as a favourite of the post-bop journeyman circuit of regional jazz clubs in pubs and pavilions. His readily digestible offerings of 50s and 60s instrumental standards is delivered with heart and a direct language of textbook jazz licks, only occasionally challenged by tempos not sitting under his fingers. Jack Kendon was probably ready to be off duty, but his outpouring of well-balanced and thoughtful turns of phrase showed him as always to be an accomplished and creative asset on trumpet. John Donalsdon, local ‘best kept secret’ award, is a mature artist and a sophisticated improviser – demonstrating in 8 bars why this festival would be wise to extend the resources they initially promised in 2013 to the local artists, to stage more of them on the ‘Arena’ or a similarly-sized stage all weekend, a proper piano, get paid, and have a pass to the VIP areas.
As the sun was visibly lowering itself lazily into the hill to the West, bathing us in a warmth to match our collective inner glow, Caro Emerald and her joyous band knocked out an infectious electro-swing set, free of any indulgence or crass genre collisions, and elevating the crowd aloft in a skippy flutter.
Finally, a slightly disappointing blast of ‘Binker & Moses’ (musically under-developed, and instrumentally not accomplished enough for the premature accolades), and a sidelong glance across at the legendarily slick and soulful AWB, I left ‘Love Supreme’ sated and comforted, if a little unchallenged.
This festival offers an impossibly large menu for any one person to experience, whilst managing to miss out some crucial cutting edge UK resources. Where are the guitarists Mike Walker, Mike Outram, John Parricelli? Where are the international collaborations like Hermeto Pascual with the Mondesir Bros and large London ensemble including players like Julian Siegal? The pianists Jason Rebello, Django Bates, Gwilym Symcock, Gareth Williams? The UK ensembles ‘Loose Tubes’, Laurie Cottle, Celebration Orchestra, brimming over with long-journeyed and substantial artists? Or the UK sound coming from our deep associations with South African music – Pinise Saul’s Township Comets, from Louis Moholo through to Soweto Kinch? Or small ensembles 'Pigfoot’, and ‘Printmakers’ – and that’s just the ‘Ps’.
For now, let’s be ever so thankful that this festival is established on the calendar, has a home in the foothills of the Sussex Downs, offers what it does, and appears so far to be attracting sustainable ticket sales….. long live ‘Love Supreme’, even if it has a way to go to live up to its namesake.
Reviewed by Julian Nicholas
Simon is establishing himself as a favourite of the post-bop journeyman circuit of regional jazz clubs in pubs and pavilions. His readily digestible offerings of 50s and 60s instrumental standards is delivered with heart and a direct language of textbook jazz licks, only occasionally challenged by tempos not sitting under his fingers. Jack Kendon was probably ready to be off duty, but his outpouring of well-balanced and thoughtful turns of phrase showed him as always to be an accomplished and creative asset on trumpet. John Donalsdon, local ‘best kept secret’ award, is a mature artist and a sophisticated improviser – demonstrating in 8 bars why this festival would be wise to extend the resources they initially promised in 2013 to the local artists, to stage more of them on the ‘Arena’ or a similarly-sized stage all weekend, a proper piano, get paid, and have a pass to the VIP areas.
As the sun was visibly lowering itself lazily into the hill to the West, bathing us in a warmth to match our collective inner glow, Caro Emerald and her joyous band knocked out an infectious electro-swing set, free of any indulgence or crass genre collisions, and elevating the crowd aloft in a skippy flutter.
Finally, a slightly disappointing blast of ‘Binker & Moses’ (musically under-developed, and instrumentally not accomplished enough for the premature accolades), and a sidelong glance across at the legendarily slick and soulful AWB, I left ‘Love Supreme’ sated and comforted, if a little unchallenged.
This festival offers an impossibly large menu for any one person to experience, whilst managing to miss out some crucial cutting edge UK resources. Where are the guitarists Mike Walker, Mike Outram, John Parricelli? Where are the international collaborations like Hermeto Pascual with the Mondesir Bros and large London ensemble including players like Julian Siegal? The pianists Jason Rebello, Django Bates, Gwilym Symcock, Gareth Williams? The UK ensembles ‘Loose Tubes’, Laurie Cottle, Celebration Orchestra, brimming over with long-journeyed and substantial artists? Or the UK sound coming from our deep associations with South African music – Pinise Saul’s Township Comets, from Louis Moholo through to Soweto Kinch? Or small ensembles 'Pigfoot’, and ‘Printmakers’ – and that’s just the ‘Ps’.
For now, let’s be ever so thankful that this festival is established on the calendar, has a home in the foothills of the Sussex Downs, offers what it does, and appears so far to be attracting sustainable ticket sales….. long live ‘Love Supreme’, even if it has a way to go to live up to its namesake.
Reviewed by Julian Nicholas
