Canberra Jazz blog

Luxuriations

2012-02-02T20:55:00.001+11:00

I caught the Wayne Kelly Trio playing last night at Hippo. Jazz is sparse in Canberra as we wait for the new academic year to begin so the announcement on Facebook was welcomed. Hippo has the locals playing on Wednesday nights and it remains a nice if noisy gig. From the top, this was luxurious playing, reminiscent of dark late night bars and world-weariness, and perhaps of Shanghai speakeasies (or more likely cocktail bars). But despite the leisurely pace and feel, this was full of throwaway nonchalant inventiveness. The tunes were standards or of that style, built on ii-V cycles. I recognised several, like Things ain’t what they used to be and I’ll remember April, and others were familiar if only vaguely, but Wayne took them far away, with chromatic inventions and panoramic sparseness and an easy relationship with the trio. Col played his unique percussive style with his tiny kit of thuddy kick and snare and a range of rhythm- and sound-makers and his insistent cross rhythms. Chris, now returned from Europe, was back on double bass and playing with a freely expressed maturity, frequently soloing into the thumb positions, easily moving over and through tonalities rather than simply stating chords. It was a delightful outing that had me smiling with pleasure at the easy groove but also the flexibility and invention that Wayne brought to it. How lovely was this! Wayne Kelly (piano) performed with Chris Pound (bass) and Col Hoorweg (drums) at Hippo.

Rhythm methods

2012-01-29T14:58:00.005+11:00

Gossips played at gig last Friday night with singer / blues harpist DJ Gosper sitting in for Gossipist Leanne. It was a great gig. I noticed first off during our take on Herbie Hancock’s Chameleon. It’s a common enough tune and I’ve played it many times, but this felt sharp and tight with that lucid melody over the top of choppy clavinet-style keys from Mike and crisscrossing rhythms from Brenton and me. Great fun. Then some unusual takes from DJ and Goss on any number of well known songs. DJ comes from the blues traditions. She sings with a strong, impassioned voice; she performs with a sense of steady structure and solo form; she solos with blues harp and blues scales. It’s a fascinatingly different take on tunes and I, for one, heard them anew. Great fun.

This was Goulburn and Megan and I took the opportunity to duck down to see friends in Sydney. On the way back, we stopped at a winery for coffee expecting country calm and a Euro-chic cellar door experience. Certainly the surroundings, the gardens and flowers suggested it. But we got something else. We’d happened on a 4-day (!) Taikoz Taiko drumming workshop. This is earthy and elemental Japanese drumming and very far from the synopated Afro-Cuban stuff of jazz. It's simple, heavy, meditative and can be terrifyingly loud. I enjoyed it and other visitors joked of it but, at least indoors, it was too much for these ears. A very different rhythm method.

Gossips played with DJ Gosper at the Tattersalls Pub in Goulburn. The Taikoz Taiko workshop was held over the Australia Day long-weekend at the Elling Forest Winery.

This year’s overkill

2012-01-25T21:34:00.006+11:00

I thought I’d sit back, relax and listen to the last orchestral concert of the Australian Youth Orchestra Music Camp for 2012. I had as many pics as I needed and perhaps I’d attended more than my fill over the last 8 days: 8 concerts over eight days; 4 concerts over the last 2 days alone. Just how good was this orchestra! My comparisons are admittedly limited. They have youthful energy and commitment, the best professional guidance and a few weeks of musical immersion behind them. On the other side, they are still young and I assume they are not yet professional, even if they are amongst best for age. I don’t judge here (not for nothing that I call these posts "reports" not "reviews") but I felt very comfortable with their performances throughout. I was very seldom discomforted by intonation, the feels were apt, the tempos were steady, the interpretations were nicely mature and sensitive, and the ensemble playing was comfortable. I was disappointed by the last concert, but from the music not the performance. The tunes just didn’t entertain me on the night. I may have been in a minority of one: not just Megan and Sally enjoyed it, but the applause was explosive and I was surrounded by standing ovations. So how did this sourpuss find it?

First up was Nelson Cooke Chamber Orchestra with Janacek’s Suite for string orchestra (1877). I heard imploring strings, flowing, liquid lines, searching decays and dynamics, massed strings and high violins and some attempt at Beethoven passion in the last movement. But it felt overly earnest and the emotions seemed unexplored to me: too much heart on too big and obvious a shoulder. Next was Paul Dukas’ Sorcerer’s apprentice (1897) from the Alexander Orchestra. After Janacek and a missed dinner because the restaurant couldn’t handle the numbers between concerts, I guess I wasn’t in a mood for more light-hearted amusement. This just seemed like so much energy expended for so little purpose. All very clever and entertaining but I just wished for the naughty broom to return to its bloody cupboard. It would have saved so much effort and anguish. Finally Sibelius’ Symphony no.2 (1902) by the Bishop Orchestra. This was introduced as written in response to the warmth and light of Italy. Now, I know Italy. My guess is Sibelius encountered a labyrinthine Italian bureaucracy while in Italy rather than spending time frolicking in sun-drenched Umbrian meadows. This was lots of swelling tones and dynamics and turgid emotions. Competently constructed but with instrumentation that felt too simple and uncomplicated. It all seemed too obvious for the emotions being presented. None of the passion of Beethoven, the wit of Mozart, the intellectual clarity of Bach or the elaboration of Shostakovich. But I’m just me: everyone else seemed to love it.

Of course, the Llewellyn Hall exploded at the end. The excitement and release at the end of the music camp must have been overwhelming for the three hundred or so people involved. The tension released at the end of a live broadcast to ABC FM just added to it all. There were standing ovations, cheering, whoops and hollers, smiles and hugs. And my week had been quite stunning. Eight concerts ranging widely in style. At the end, I understand better what I like and wish to explore, as well as what I’m happy to pass over. The AYO is a wonderful gathering of talented people and the institution is fabulous and seemingly of international status. Congratulations to all involved, and I’ve already set aside a week in 2014 for another session of overkill.

Penultimate

2012-01-24T20:59:00.000+11:00

We’ve reached the last day for this year’s Australian Youth Orchestra Music Camp. For the students, the mood must be lively and tinged with just a touch of sadness at parting, but there are still a full afternoon of concerts, from three orchestras, all recorded and one broadcast live to ABC FM. Farewells and tears can wait. I feel the mood of the music is getting lighter and more accessible. It’s not a change that I prefer, but so be it. More on that for the later concert. The afternoon, though, is interesting and varied.

The Nelson Cooke Chamber Orchestra played the first two pieces. First was resident composition tutor Iain Grandage’s Wild geese (2011). It’s an evocation of the Catalpa Rescue, the 1876 escape of six Irish Fenian prisoners from the then British penal colony in Western Australia. It’s quite short and unsettling piece, starting pregnant with expectation and proceeding through massed attacks and imploring strings. Then to Mendelssohn’s Sinfonia no.4 in C minor (1821). What a prodigy he must have been. This work was written at aged 12 as a compositional exercise and only published in 1959. This is a mix of baroque and classicism: contrapuntal lines ending in long unison segments; a pensive and aristocratic middle movement, and a final movement with some fabulous deep lines of bass and cello, then to finish with the whole ensemble playing ornamented lines in unison. Enlivening for musicians and audience.

The Bishop Orchestra followed with an unconducted performance of Mozart’s Overture to Don Giovanni (1787). This work moves between D minor and D major to convey the story of the seducer Don G. I heard it as argumentative and enticing in various parts, which fits the story of lust and retribution. One description was the “terrors of the sinner’s life” although there was quite a deal of pleasure mingled in there, too, and this remains a light an enticing piece and certainly not in the realms of the Russians. The orchestra ended with smiles and a certain confidence, so obviously they enjoyed the performance. The Bishop then welcomed William Conway to conduct Bartok’s Hungarian Pictures (1931). This is the Hungarian folk tradition entered into the classical repertoire. Interesting for its use of alternative tonalities, like the whole tone scale and pentatonics which each appear here. There are butterflies and pastoral scenes; there is busy-ness and the unsettled harmony of the whole tone scale; there are huge crescendos and bustling strings; there is lushness and bouncing rhythms and bows; there are dances and transcribed folk melodies. Modernism through reversion to arcadia.

After the interval, we retired to the Llewellyn dress circle. You’ll see the different views in the pics here. I’ve seldom seen it much used, but it was the haunt of the musicians at the AYO events. The experience is hugely different from the front rows. In the front rows you share the experience with the performers: everything’s intense and local; the sound surrounds you and changes directions with different instruments; you see some musos and miss others. The dress circle is the experience of the critic and recording engineer. The sound is more unified and gathered, less intense and immediate, quieter but perhaps purer. The view is all encompassing, so you see the back rows of the strings and the brass and woodwinds and they all become identifiable and more part of the experience rather than just tones emanating from out back somewhere.

So this is how we heard the Alexander Orchestra for the second Mozart overture of this concert, this time to the Marriage of Figaro. This is well known music, of course: easy to comprehend, eminently lyrical and masterfully structured. But bigger was Schubert’s Symphony no.8 in B minor, his Unfinished symphony. The first two movements were completed, but the third, scherzo, movement was left unfinished. I remember it especially for the sorrowful bass theme starts the work and recurs in basses and other instrument. The Alexander finished the night with Richard Strauss’ Till Eulenspiegel’s merry pranks. It’s a jovial and light-hearted series of settings - jumpy, tricky, whimsical and somewhat naughty – that resolve (almost) at the end with Till’s death by hanging. Mmm … folk tales can be anguished.

So ended the penultimate concert of the AYO music camp series. The Nelson Cooke Chamber Orchestra was led by concertmaster Mats Zetterqvist and performed Iain Grandage’s Wild geese and Mendelssohn’s Sinfonia no.4 in C minor. The Bishop Orchestra performed Mozart’s Overture to Don Giovanni under concertmaster Elena Phatak and Bartok’s Hungarian Pictures under conductor William Conway. The Alexander Orchestra performed Mozarts’s Overture to the Marriage of Figaro under concertmaster Glenn Christensen and Schubert’s Symphony no.8 in B minor (“Unfinished”) and Richard Strauss’ Till Eulenspiegel’s merry pranks under conductor Christopher Seaman.

Brassy

2012-01-23T21:20:00.001+11:00

Brassy says it all: glorious, rich, rounded, sonorous. One of the tutors for the Brass ensemble at the Australian Youth Orchestra’s Music camp, I think it was Nick Byrne, said they were seeking to develop an ensemble sensibility on and off stage. This sounds about right. Thinking back, I remember some playing that stunned me, some rapid fire lines from a tuba, but it was the rich sonority of the collected brass that floored me. They didn’t need more. Just to luxuriate in this rotundity is blissful. The concert started with a fanfare (how could it not?) and I just sat back in wonder as the simple majesty of it all. This was all the ensemble, both tutors and students (30 brass players, with occasional supplementation by 4 percussionists), on for the first and last tunes. It was big and beautiful and bountiful. But there was also a range of smaller ensembles, with that sine-curve clarity of trumpet, billowing depth of tuba, the earthier tones of horns and the trombones somewhere in between.

The opening fanfare was Dukas’ Fanfare from La Peri. Quite short, but powerful and full. Then Elena Kats-Chernin’s Stabat Mater for Brass. Starting with a steady stream of quavers then into a fog-horn deep tuba accompanied by percussion. Bell like tones accompanied by real bells. I heard mostly a descending 4-chord, 4-bar accompaniment with intuitive and unforced melody. K-C is wonderfully accessible and her popularity is easy to understand. Then Gabrielli’s take on sacred music, the Sonata pian e forte. This is mediaeval sacred music taking me back to a region I know well. It was written for the famed cathedral of San Marco in Venice, with its “substantial echo and delay”, originally with two brass choirs located on two balconies. It’s an antiphonal, which means responsive singing from two choirs, here, choirs of brass. Interestingly, this was one of the first pieces written with notated dynamics. I heard it as perfectly formed classical brass tone; two choirs (one of four trombones; one of three trumpets and one trombone) responding to eachother with segments of a few bars; steady crochets and quavers that were absolutely square in time; occasionally revelling in a fanfare. Next was Grieg’s Death of Åse transposed to a more brass-friendly key. This was a wonderfully tremulous and deeply tragic funeral march. It’s a famous melody and richly evocative in this instrumentation. Then selections from JS Bach’s Brandenburg concerto no.1 arranged by Melbournite Ben Mansted and kept in the original brass-challenging key. What’s not to love in these flowing, perfectly balanced, contrapuntal lines that glow with dignity. I learned a new instrument here - the rotary valve piccolo trumpet. There were two of them and they played a major role in the Brandenburg with their piercing high pitched snippets of melody. Lovely! Most of the works were fairly short, but the Bach and the following modern piece, Rautavaara’s Requiem for our times, were longer. Einojuhani Rautavaara is a living Finnish composer who won competitions under Sibelius and studied in the US with the likes of Aaron Copland. His Requiem was in four movements. There was early fanfare with considerable dissonance; busy trumpet and trombone tonguing with percussion accompaniment; belligerent horns against trumpets and synchronised hits by deep brass and percussion; distant trumpets and graphic, filmic melody. Then to end, a euphonium melody over trumpets. Suffice to say it was rich in techniques and tonalities; sometimes smooth and sometimes powerful and outspoken. But for me, not such a favourite. Item 7 was a strangely modern, illustrative piece, Daugherty’s Motown metal. I had expected this to refer to Motown, the music label, but this was obviously a paean to Detroit, motor city. Now this was very different again! It started with the sounds of an accelerating manual car from several trombones, then a fast rising arpeggio that moved through the band as it was echoed by different instruments. This was brash industrial Americana, celebrating the rise and recent decay of this notable city. I found it fascinating and adventurous music that was widely informed outside the classical repertoire. (On a personal note, the comparison of Rautavaara’s Scandinavian rumination with Daugherty’s American bluster just confirms my musical preferences.) The end was another all-in brass masterwork, Richard Strauss’ Feierlicher Einzug. It’s another fanfare, a solemn procession that was originally written for 17 trumpets: huge, slow, loud, mournful but dignified. Dignified: as brass can so successfully be.

So, a wonderful outing of inspired and blissfully sonorous music and one that I look forward fondly to revisiting. Various combinations of brass players from the Australian Youth Orchestra performed Dukas’ Fanfare from La Peri, Elena Kats-Chernin’s Stabat Mater, Gabrielli’s Sonata pian e forte, Grieg’s Death of Åse, selections from JS Bach’s Brandenburg concerto no.1, Rautavaara’s Requiem for our times, Daugherty’s Motown metal and Richard Strauss’ Feierlicher Einzug.

This is CJBlog post no. 750.

Newness

2012-01-22T17:06:00.003+11:00

The New Sounds in Composition concert at the Australian Youth Orchestra Music camp felt like an intimate event to which you are privileged to have been invited. The audience was not large - mostly AYO students and initiates, I guess. The performers are presumably tutors or senior students and they saunter informally on stage and are nonchalant in presence and dress. But the music making is serious and the student composers are putting their work on the line and these works are self-revelatory. So being there was a generous gift. These are four premiere performances for these works by these students. There were 4 student composers, all under the tutoring of Iain Grandage and under his baton as conductor. He’s positive and supportive and must have been a great pleasure to work with. The music shows it. These were four short but impressive works that I felt had considerable substance.

David John Lang’s Litany was sparse and fragmented, attractive but minimal and remorseful. And that’s quite proper as it was speaking of war and resposponding to the song, Abide by me, and the looming presence of the magisterial Australian War Memorial in Canberra. He spoke of restructuring the piece after arriving in Canberra and that this led to its fragmentary nature, but the feeling of loss and devastation that followed WW1 must have been incoherent.

It was when I reached the second composition, Rebecca Erin Smith’s Impulsion & Opiate, that I realised the instrumentation was unchanged. The students were obviously required to write for this ensemble, although there were two sets of players each performing a pair of pieces. Rebecca’s piece was in two movements and was informed by Bill Bryson’s Short history of everything. She described the movements as Shattered and brought together, and Dawn. I was not so sure of dawn, but the picture of atoms shattering and restructuring and of hydrogen atoms existing sparsely in the vacuum of space was marvellous. This was dramatic music, with different instruments featured in rapid succession, billowing crescendos and quiet, settled notes picturing space and time. I loved this and the visual dynamics and rich colours and vibrant life of this piece.

Lisa Cheney volunteered that Turbulence was a personal musical challenge. She normally writes with steady harmony, but this compostion used serial techniques and tone rows. This was contrasting colours, ambiguiguous in harmony and movement, rich intrumental palettes, mobile lines and strong dynamics. I found it intriguing and the moving harmony enlivening even if I know and understand the style too poorly. This work borrowed from the essence of 20th Century music and remains fresh even as we take a more lyrical turn.

Last was Jared Yapp’s Cyclic. Jared is from Perth and I felt he introduced the piece with considerable maturity. It’s a study of cycles, macro and micro, and specifically personal emotional cycles. When asked if he heard that in it, he answered no, he was too close. When asked if he expects an audience to hear this, he was respectfully non-committal, they will hear what they will. An impressive assurance, I thought. The tunes were all to be under 10 minutes, but I wondered if this was longer, or perhaps the others shorter. Again, dynamics, rich instrumental interplays of short lines, percussion and especially timpani, and just occasional longer, pensive trumpet or violin melodies, and rhythmic piano and strangely a country theme (Bonanza-like) towards the end.

All this is most impressive and I respond with some awe, but also with thanks for admittance to this most intimate of concerts. Four original compositions were presented as premieres and performed by tutors and students are the Australian Youth Orchestra: David John Lang’s Litany, Rebecca Erin Smith’s Impulsion & Opiate, Lisa Cheney’s Turbulence and Jared Yapp’s Cyclic.

Near enough to the best

2012-01-21T14:44:00.006+11:00

“This was the best music I’ve heard”. So said a young audience member, probably an AYO student, who was sitting just beside me after the Ligetti Bagatelles. We were at the Advanced Chamber Music concert of the Australian Youth Orchestra. I must say I was verging on accord. I really loved the Ligetti, but the six pieces on the night were so varied and such an intellectual treat that I won’t pick one. This was a fabulous concert, richly varied in tone as well as style. I’d expected strings – quartets or larger groups of strings, perhaps a chamber orchestra – but this had piano, horns, clarinets, flutes, even a bassoon, so it fascinated my ear and also my intellect. Chamber just means Room, so the music is smaller and more intimate. I shouldn’t have been surprised by the range of tones. I’m also fascinated to think of chamber music in the context of an orchestra. The harmonies and counterpoint and structure are still there – eg, the first and second violins, viola and cello of the string quartet are massed in a chamber or syphony orchestra - and they retain a similar relationship but the scale is so much more intimate and the individual player is more exposed. Chamber music must be a fearful thing for an orchestral player, especially for the string players who usually sit amongst massed colleagues. Chamber musicians have real, personal voices and their music is obvious as conversation as lines pass between players.

The Schumann String quartet no.1 in Amin was what I’d expected. Lovely, scalar playing, a bouncy 6/8 first movement, a lyrical second movement and a busy third movement in common time. Nicely played, attractive, popular and not too challenging. Schulhoff’s Concertina for flute, viola and double bass was perhaps the biggest challenge of the night and a stunning twist after Schumann. It’s a modern work with unusual instrumentation. I guessed they were senior AYO performers: this piece was obviously not easy. It starts with a long and jagged melody of big intervals and moving dissonances on flute against a lengthy unison backing part from double bass and viola. The melody moves to viola and the others play the unison. Then through 4 movements culminating in what I thought was a jig. I was flummoxed by the count, left guessing at the jagged intervals and wallowing in the mobile harmony but I loved this modern richness and complexity and invention and the playing was great. I remember chuckling at one arpeggiated line that I followed from bass to viola but which sounded all the world to me as one instrument. The trio was obviously enjoying it, too. This was challenging and a real treat. The last before the interval was back to lyricism with eminently recognisable themes in Borodin’s String quartet no.2 in D. This was romantic, pastoral, lyrical, with some beautiful melody and mainly in triple time. Sharp, imploring first violin, a soft and responsive second violin, the mellower viola and deeper cello that echoed lines to each other. I was interested that the third movement felt distinctly symphonic to me, and wishing for a bigger group of performers.

After the interval were the delightful Six bagatelles by Ligetti. Bagatelles are light and playful pieces. There were 6 of these, so considerably varied. I heard beautiful and clear melodies in one, liveliness in another, reticent melody and sudden changes in another, syncopations and changed instrumental groupings and even circus music in another. Exciting and intriguing music that I wish to hear more of. Next was Shostakovitch’s String quartet no.9 in Eb. I’d loved the panoramic, epic view of the Shostakovitch symphony at that earlier AYO concert. This was similarly complex and large in scope, but I’ll remember it for untiring activity: syncopations, staccatos, crossing rhythms, various solos for all the instruments, lines that bounced, bows that bounced, bow hairs that hung limp after shredding with the energy of it all. This was constant activity and exhaustive in dissection. Stunning music played with great commitment. The final piece was one for the road: Dohnanyi’s Sextet Op.37. Again, this is a piece with mixed tonality – piano, two violins, cello, horn, clarinet - but the style is lyrical, romantic, lush. What a nice work to ease us to the road after some very demanding music. This felt romantic, nationalistic, march-like with lush harmonies and simple, satisfying melodies. I remember falling waterfalls of notes from the piano, the so-pure tone of the clarinet, and even some swing-band-like clarinet melodies. This was not trivial music, but it was one to relax the soul. It’s not surprising that it was here I thought how wonderful are these musicians who will commit so much time and discipline to such beauty. Music is a hard task master. This music was gloriously beautiful with a soft underbelly.

And so another concert ends. I’m commenting lots on variety and I expect this will be my theme for AYO2012. The playing has been great, but the choices have been modern and varied: great for listening and performer alike.

Looking aggressively, not

2012-01-18T22:04:00.001+11:00

Classical percussion concerts are surprisingly delightful things. I got to one this evening by the Australian Youth Orchestra Percussion Ensemble. I’m always amazed that these batterers learn the keyboard, and wonder what it is that groups marimba or vibraphone with the far more earthy skinned drums. I assume it’s just that they are hit. Piano strings are also hit, and pianos are also described as percussion instruments, but they are not hit with a stick or a mallet and they are not played by percussionists. I was amused the description of his art by one of the percussion tutors: “hitting, bowing, scraping … or just looking at something aggressively”. It’s not at all true - lots of percussion is soft and detailed and we heard drums voiced with the gentlest of taps tonight – but it fits the image and it’s amusing. They seemed to joke aggressively too, or at least frequently. Is aggression a characteristic of percussionists? From the looks and sound of them, it was very far from my impression. So how was the performance?

I’d use words like light, sweet and even discursive to describe this performance. There was some groove but not much was intense or danceable. The first tune was probably the strongest groove. This was Ritmica no. 5 (1930), Afro-Cuban music by Cuban composer Amadeo Roldan. Early, it was delightful with a quiet but busy interplay of multiple instruments - bongos, cowbells, toms, a range of Cuban percussion - but then, several times, it came to a stop with insistent unison quarter note hits from the deep toms. I heard this like African jungle drums, talking drums, a complex interplay of simple patterns. The next tune was Canticle no.1 (1940) by Lou Harrison, a student of Schoenberg and collaborator of John Cage. This was introduced as intricate through the overlapping of simple rhythms. I heard is as intellectual, less bodily, with a clear influence from gamellans and again with a structure in several parts with stops and starts. Third was an original compostion, tagged as an improvisation but pre-composed by the performers, Rhapsody on a theme (2012). I missed some details, but the process went something like this: the students were provided with a 4-bar theme around Christmas and asked to develop a 212-bar (?) part. They then put them together and perhaps edited their parts and performed. It was busy and conflicting at times, but I enjoyed the movement between lashings of contrasting sounds, even if the piece lacked obvious structure. But huge congratulations to tutors and students for the creativity of it all. Improvisation is not a feature of the classical field and a task like this that breaks the reticence is a great exercise. The fourth tune was the longest and most complex: Gavin Bryars’ At Portage and Main (2009). Bryars is a jazz bassist, as well as a composer and student of John Cage, and you can hear the bassist approach in some of the chordal segments. This was performed on 3 marimbas, 2 vibes and various drums and cymbals. The intersection of Portage and Main in Winnipeg is supposedly the coldest and windiest corner in North America. I heard mystical rather than cold, although it could have been snow, and only once thought of a possible wind, but it was a lovely, lyrical and lengthy piece featuring the dull thuds of the tuned marimba and the ringing, metallic vibes against downy kick drum and toms and swelling cymbals. Portage and Main must be a quiet corner but it informed some attractive music. The concert ended with a very short Roldan piece, much like the first, Ritmica no.6 (1930).

So, this percussion concert was anything but aggressive. Yes, they used mallets and sticks and the like, and they hit things, but this was detailed and delicate and only once or twice letting go to forte. Quite unexpected for we new initiates.

Beyond the wait

2012-01-17T20:47:00.002+11:00

After a quick dinner, the Llewellyn audience for the Australian Youth Orchestra’s second concert was unexpectedly reduced, although there were no doubt plenty of virtual listeners to the ABC FM live broadcast. This concert was again orchestral, this time with just three works, but consistently modern and exploratory.

The Alexander Orchestra opened with a work by the AYO Music Camp resident composer, Iain Grandage’s Out of time (2004). This was joyous and full with immense sound. Iain was interviewed after the work and spoke of it as filmic and “celebrating the music of the orchestra”. I particularly liked his intention to “write things that performers like playing”. This was clearly like that. Big and satisfying.

The Nelson Cooke Chamber Orchestra followed with a modern Swedish piece, Anders Eliasson’s Ein schneller blick … ein kurzes auscheinen (= A quick glimpse … a brief appearance, 2003). This work was meditative and slow and of a limited tonal palette. I liked the livelier final movement with cellos and basses playing off each other in contrary motion and otherwise.

The final work was the one that most interested me in this session. The Bishop Orchestra performed Shostakovitch’s Symphony no. 10 (1953). On the outside, I’d not expect to like this. It’s brooding, it’s steady and even with quaver melodies, it tells stories with regularity and tone. I wondered if this was a modern romanticism. It’s also long, lasting a full hour, but this was an hour that I hardly noticed passing. That was a hint to me. This is like Russian literature: huge with dense complexity and epic breadth that speaks deceptively easily of the human condition: like Tolstoy or Dostoievsky. It’s anchored in the time after Stalin’s death and follows Shostakovich’s denunciation and withdrawal from symphonic composition. The themes are large and the concerns and emotions are deep. People who live in the sun don’t write music like this. Great composition performed with commitment and ardour.

So ended a long but invigourating pair of concerts. It speaks well for the Camp and its attendees. The music was an intelligent and broadminded view of music of the last century with one baroque teaser. The playing was wonderfully capable, always presented seriously and with considerable verve. The hammering feet of applause from these young musicians was full of youthful enthusiasm and involvement. This was a lengthy and satisfying first outing and I’m looking forward to much more over the coming week.

The Alexander Orchestra performed Iain Grandage’s Out of time with William Conway conducting. Nelson Cooke Chamber Orchestra played Anders Eliasson’s Ein schneller blick … ein kurzes auscheinen (= A quick glimpse … a brief appearance) with director Mats Zetterqvist. The Bishop Orchestra ended the concert with Shostakovitch’s Symphony no. 10 conducted by Christopher Seaman.

Eagerly awaited

2012-01-16T21:30:00.004+11:00

I’ve been awaiting the return of the Australian Youth Orchestra since their last National Music Camp here in Canberra two years back. We’ve only experienced day 1 of the free concert series, but we were not disappointed: two concerts, both generous in time and variety, both intriguing and energetic and with a fascinating and, at least for me, obscure repertoire. And always that energy and passion and joy that the AYO is drenched in. This year I was more aware of just how young are some of these performers. The AYO takes musicians from 14 to 30 years of age, so there are seriously young players amongst developed students and semi-professionals. And the size of this undertaking is impressive. At one time, the AYO reported using 81 rooms. The day 1 concerts were orchestral: each featuring two large symphony orchestras and a chamber orchestra. The music camp has 250 young musicians as well as programs for music admin, music journalism and more. It’s an impressive undertaking and apparently internationally renowned. So what did we hear?

Concert 1 was called Orchestral Passions Concert 1. We can excuse the dismal title because the music was great. The Nelson Cooke Chamber Orchestra started it off with a piece of dignified baroque, CPE Bach’s Symphony no.1 in C major (1773). This is music of the era: at times delicate, sometimes bumble-bee busy with rolling waves of scalar lines, a slower, pre-romantic middle movement, and a third movement that sounded sometimes tragic before a return to rolling scalar lines. Lovely! The next piece was Barber’s Adagio for strings (1936). It’s not a favourite of mine, although maybe I could come at it as part of a bigger work (it was written for that). I find the strings too unrelenting and mewling and the feel too sentimental. I could see myself appreciating it just after a War-To-End-All-Wars, but I’m just not sad enough. The chamber orchestra has 30 players and visiting European Mats Zetterqvist as director.

The Bishop Orchestra followed with Elgar’s In the South (1903/4). It’s lush and attractive and rollicking and bouncing. Everyone loved the huge, fat, sweet tuba that easily overwhelmed 8 string basses, and otherwise it was exhilarating, pastoral, grandiose and sometimes muscular. I heard propellers and jack hammers, but later realised the work was written before flight. It’s from the turn of the 20th century and clearly speaks to Victorian England, although apparently its musical references are to Italy. It’s a 20th Century work, but only just: on the border of a new world and evoking a time that’s about to disappear. Nicely done and very attractive and indelibly conservative.

The Alexander Orchestra finished this concert. First was Stravinsky’s Four etudes for orchestra (1928). It surprises me how some earlier works sound more modern than other later works. This developed, exploratory, yearning for new sounds and experiences. It starts with a quizzical march, then proceeds to tonal variations, lots of crescendos and devilishly difficult syncopations, frequent silence and sparse, jagged melodies that have one note played here, another there, and dissonant harmonies and counterpoint that still flabbergast a modern audience. I had great respect for the players here: this must have been a difficult chart. But it was so well done and a favourite. Then to finish, James MacMillan’s Confession of Isobel Gowdie (1990). Apparently it was an instant hit when premiered at the London Proms about 20 years back. This is a musical depiction of the torture and execution of Isobel Gowdie, a Scot who was tried for witchcraft in 1662. It was big and dramatic and emotional (strangely, I thought I heard bagpipes at one time!) with crescendos and sudden, massive dynamic changes. I was fascinated by an early passage of slides on the strings: strange and unearthly and very effective. Wonderful, new and dramatic, and unexpected.

Just the start, we thought, as we went off for a quick dinner. This was impressive playing and the repertoire was looking to be varied, modern and exploratory. And there’s lots more to come. The Nelson Cooke Chamber Orchestra performed CPE Bach’s Symphony no.1 in C major and Barber’s Adagio for strings and was directed by Mats Zetterqvist. The Bishop Orchestra performed Elgar’s In the South with Christopher Seaman conducting. The Alexander Orchestra performed Stravinsky’s Four etudes for orchestra and James MacMillan’s Confession of Isobel Gowdie with William Conway conducting.

Pollards or sands?

2012-01-14T10:20:00.006+11:00

I didn’t expect to return so soon, but this week it was dinner at the Pantry and Liam Budge, Caleb Wearne and Andy Campbell were performing under the heavily pollarded planes. The Pantry is a busy hub in a strangely quiet lane at the moment. It’s obviously January in Canberra, with pollies out of town and bureaucrats at the coast: this particular lane can be a busy hive, but not these evenings. Liam’s is a brooding voice with a pensive presence, wallowing in mellow takes on the great ballads like Body and soul and Nightingale sang in Berkeley Square, so perfect for this setting. Andy and Caleb fitted with a stylish accompaniment: smooth, sleek, but also interesting with lyrical solos and clear, ringing tones. But it was not all ballads. They could also be livelier but still subtly swinging with Night and day, a bit tongue in cheek with Fly me to the moon (who could take that one seriously?), playful with the great witty standards like Ain’t misbehavin’ and Gee babe ain’t I good to you and my favourite of the night, Love for sale. This is the great standards repertoire done with the humour and style of the era they were written for: suitable accompaniment for some boutique beers and great local wines. The sand at the coast may be enticing but I prefer this.

Liam Budge (vocals), Caleb Wearne (bass) and Andy Campbell (guitar) performed at the Urban Pantry in Manuka.

Under pollarded planes

2012-01-07T11:27:00.002+11:00

Pollarding is a type of heavy pruning used in Europe to limit tree size in urban environments. I ran across jazz under the pollarded Planes last night in Manuka. Caleb Wearne, Sally Greenaway and Natalie Magee were playing Jazz on the Manuka Lawns at the Urban Pantry. It was nice, relaxed jazz on a calm and warm evening: very pleasant given a decent beer. All three are old friends of CJ, of course, capable and well-trained performers. Caleb’s hands and solos were finely wrought; Sally’s solos were broad and cinematic; Natalie’s singing was intially uncomplicated but I thought she’d dropped into a more detailed style when we passed by later in the evening after dinner. We were only at the Lawns for pre-dinner drinks, but I expect the musical style would have continued into the night. They played standards and latins including some of the more interesting melodies: All of me, April in Paris, Bye bye blackbird, Dancing cheek to cheek, Dindi, East of the Sun west of the Moon. Natalie’s repertoire starting at A, I guess.

You learn something new every day, like pollarding. I knew they were Plane trees at Manuka with their mottled trunks but I’d always wondered about the heavy pruning they underwent. Also new to me was Jazz on the Manuka Lawns, outside Urban Pantry. It’s in its second year with light jazz 6-9pm each Friday evening through Spring and Summer.

MAD

2012-01-02T18:19:00.011+11:00

Cartoon by Jon Kudelka from The Australian, 13 Sep 2011 (published with Jon's permission)

The acronym for the Museum of Australian Democracy is actually MoAD and it’s obvious why. But I’ll use MAD temporarily given MoAD is displaying the Behind the Lines exhibition of Australian political cartoons. BtL is an annual event and I’d seen two previous incarnations at the Museum of Australia (MOA). It’s an unusual exhibition because it’s mirthful and accompanied by frequent chuckles and even belly laughs. It’s also mercifully short, so this is one for anyone. The themes were obvious enough: Julia, Tony, Kevin, animal exports, refugee imports, climate change. I found it interesting that I could guess the source for some cartoons, especially the Daily Telegraph and the West Australian but also occasionally the Australian. Here are some favourites: a mediaeval recounting of carbon disaster / First dog on the Moon (Andrew Marlton) in Crikey; the Devil complaining that “the place hasn’t been the same since we transitioned from fossil fuel to solar” / Philip Somerville in Nexus; a woman wailing over the Tomb of the Unknown Cow / Dean Alston in West Australian; Abbott consoling the homeless man over “Gillard’s class war” / John Spooner in The Age; Gillard’s big picture as a severely undeveloped whttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifork in progress / Bill Leak in The Australian. But my vote goes to the cutting simplicity of Gillard turning out the Light(-house) on the Hill because it’s attracting boat people / Jon Kudelka in The Australian. (Thanks to Jon for his permission to publish the cartoon).

View Behind the Lines and vote for your favourite

BtL didn’t take long so we wondered around Old Parliament House. It’s a sparse but fascinating visit, especially if you remember significant events and the building on TV. We sat in Senate and House seats (I was particularly amused to see the MPs’ benches had inkwells), marvelled at the tiny offices (the Secretary of PM&C shared his small office with the stationery cupboard!) and visited the various party rooms and the PM’s suite, but the most interesting was a session in the actual Cabinet room where we played at being ministers and argued over whether to bring the troops home in 1941. Megan and I knew what happened and we approved of the decision (Curtin brought the troops home from Europe/Africa against the wishes of Churchill and Roosevelt and they soon defeated the Japanese on the Kokoda Track) but it was news for some others and a lively debate ensued. I certainly don’t envy our pollies who have to make decisions of this magnitude and complexity. We should thank our lucky stars that they get it as right as they do. MOAD is a small and relaxed museum but the building has history oozing from its walls.

The annual Behind the Lines exhibition of Australian political cartoons was held at the Museum of Australian Democracy in the Old Parliament House.

One that got away

2011-12-29T01:28:00.004+11:00

The band was the New Cabal and the venue was The Boheme Bar in Adelaide. I literally arrived as the last note was fading away, so I can’t say anything about the band. I was delayed and they presumably played the standard two sets. But I mention the night because of the interesting venue. The Boheme is dark and intimate: Parisian chic with a bedraggled edge. Think bentwood chairs, framed monochrome photos and lots of heavy drapery. It’s another intriguing Adelaide venue and definitely one to check out on Wednesday nights, when Chris Soole and the New Cabal play their residency. I was pretty annoyed but I calmed down with a beer and a chat to guitarist Fred. It didn’t help to hear that the band had played well on the night. I’ll put it down as an exercise in frustration. There’s tons of good jazz everywhere, and this is just one that got away. So the message is: If you’re visiting Adelaide, The Boheme on Wednesdays seems well worth a visit.

http://www.labohemebar.com.au/

Rundle Maul

2011-12-28T16:11:00.003+11:00

You can get a mauling in Rundle Mall when the sales are on. You need some calming recuperation, and I got it this year from two buskers: violinist Agnieszka Kosacka and Stickist Andy Salvanos. Firstly, Agnieszka. I was initially attracted by the strong and authoritative sound of her violin. I noticed it was assisted by a pickup and amplification, but this was firm technique which was just confirmed by some well balanced and evenly arpeggiated bowing over multiple strings. Agnieszka is Polish and a professional. She plays weddings, funerals and the like. Just proof of the great classical training they are renowned for in Eastern Europe. The next encounter was both short and unexpected. This was Andy Salvanos playing a Chapman Stick. These are uncommon instruments. This Stick was only the second I remember encountering, although I know them moderately well from ads in guitar mags. Sticks come in 10- and 12-string versions. The original 10-string Classic Stick tuning was five melody strings in descending 4ths and five bass strings in ascending 5ths, although all manner of tunings are possible. Andy was playing a 10-string. You play it by tapping chords and bass lines and melodies with right and left hands. The sound was rich in harmony and accompaniment, guitar-like in tone and almost pianistic in musical structure. I found it quite unexpectedly attractive. Again, a civilised interlude amongst the so-busy shoppers.

Agnieszka Kosacka (violin) and Andy Salvanos (Chapman Stick) were busking in Rundle Mall soon during the post-Christmas sales.

What can you do?

2011-12-27T12:27:00.008+11:00

I didn’t find it unexpected when one of the Lonely Cosmonauts said this. His words “What can you do?” were voiced as knowing and wry and lightly dispirited. Maybe the Right will have its turn, what with the GFC and Climate change and Peak all. The Left has had a bad run but history can turn on a sixpence.

I don’t usually attend music of this style. The Lonely Cosmonauts are somewhere in the blues-folk tradition. They tell stories. They play shuffles and rocky rhythms and feature harmonies and the tunes are short. Not like jazz at all. But I liked the stories, partly because they are close to me as an ex-Adelaide person, and partly because they speak to everyman. And the patter was intimate, jokey, Aussie pub fare, I thought. The main singer, Don Morrison, told us he grew up around Magill and went to a Catholic school, and he shared this with Paul Kelly. He’d also spent time in bands in Melbourne, and gone to parties at PK’s house and even visited Molly Meldrum, so he’d done the rock thing. These days he sings knowing tunes and leads this authentic local band and builds resonator guitars. This is the real rock life, I thought: mature entertainers at a local, interesting pub. The song about looking down on Adelaide going about its business from the Kensington Road hilltop was close to my heart. But you had to enjoy the stories of picking up a girlfriend (Collecting Alby) or the borderline depressive Happy birthday to me where he sings of blowing out all the candles as a boy, then blowing out all the chances as an adult. Or the one entitled “I haven’t been sober since the day before my wedding” that spoke of a wife-to-be who backed out at the last minute. These are men’s songs of wry and laconic self-deprecation: very Australian; not at all American despite the Delta stylistic references. There was one tune that sounded all the world like classic ‘70s Chain, in voice and groove, along with the shuffles and rock grooves, steady, laid back, slow music and rocky up-tempo numbers. There was even country where the band told of visiting Tamworth, lining up for everything, and hearing a mélange of styles, and finally giving up on this Country Road. I luxuriated in a particularly lovely slow take on Led Zep’s Been a long time. And that dejected left-wingers’ patter. The bravado of the band’s role in getting Mike Rann out of office (only recently ex-SA premier) and the US out of Iraq. But the cosmonauts tag was not for nothing. I spoke to bassist Michael Saies. Their current CD is Columbus of the Cosmos and it’s all red and formal and bedecked with pics of cosmonauts in uniform and dedications to Yuri Gagarin and the lesser-known Alexei Leonov. I’m not sure I caught the story correctly, but the band wanted to visit Moscow and play in Red Square to celebrate the 50th anniversary of Gagarin’s fight manned space flight (12 April 1961). I don’t think the whole band could get there, but then the Left knows its high ambitions and dignified failures. A nice band, but even nicer Aussies. I liked the Lonely Cosmonauts.

I liked the pub, too. It was the Wheatsheaf Hotel. Long established, real beers on tap and no cocktails or pokies, a not-much-glorified tin shed for the music, bare floors and sparse furnishings and an inner-city clientele in an industrial area just outside the CBD. Well worth a visit for the eclectic music. They invite bands to play (“no cover bands or ultra-loud combos please”) and the audience ranges widely from inner city shaved to aged hirsute rocker. It’s a nice earthy cosmopolitan feel.

The Lonely Cosmonauts are Don Morrison (vocals, guitar), Michael Saies (bass, vocals), John “Dingo” Van Bowman (guitar, vocals), Phil Bray (keyboards, accordion, vocals), and Andy Przygonski (drums) and they played at the Wheatsheaf Hotel in Thebarton.

Wheatsheaf Hotel

Don Morrison's resonator guitars

Grand Bar

2011-12-23T12:14:00.003+11:00

I’m in Adelaide for Christmas, and last night I came across Georgina Aué playing a piano bar set. And what a strange set of events led to this! When he heard I was going to Adelaide, Miro Bukovsky suggested I look up John Aué. John is the bass teacher at the local jazz school at the Elder Conservatorium. I noticed Georgina’s name in the Advertiser’s gigs list, found a reference on the Net to her jazz trio, guessed that Georgina might be related to John (he's her father), guessed that the “Grand Bar” might be the cocktail bar at the local Stamford Grand and there she was. It was latish and she was finishing her set, so I just caught a few tunes: a Beatles number (was it Day tripper?), September in the rain and Come away with me. I enjoyed the Beatles (who doesn’t?) and was interested by Georgie’s piano on the more jazzy September... Norah Jones is not so much my cup of tea, but it’s popular fodder and Georgina likes her. It’s hard work – a solo gig on piano and voice – and Georgina had just finished a full day’s work at another job, but that’s the muso’s life. This was effective piano bar music - capable voice and piano with a relaxed presence and a popular repertoire - and she got thanks from departing revellers so she was going over well. Nice to meet Georgina and I enjoyed the classy atmosphere, even if my preference is a beer.

Fine and spacious

2011-12-17T10:04:00.002+11:00

When Lucian McGuinness brought his quartet to the Loft, he had given it a name: Impermanent Quartet. I like that. It speaks of change and this band is aware of change. Where there’s change, there’s no end of history, and I felt an awareness of history in this sound.

The band is trombone, alto, bass and drums so it’s chordless. This lineup lends the sound an indistinct, open feeling and leaves lots of space. I heard the guys filling with delicious harmonies and counterpoint, a quite surprising empathy from the two horns and an easy, unforced, but inquisitive take on melody. This was not the jazzer as individualist heroic soloist. This was soloist as a searcher for purposeful lines and as a bouncing musical collaborator. There’s a reason for the responsiveness of the horns to each other. Lucian and Dan had played together from schooldays, through music school and into professional life. There were a few points where I felt the found harmonies and the unison lines were so close as to be telepathic. I hadn’t picked it up, but Alex mentioned a similar relationship between trom and bass. The high bass notes reach into tenor territory shared with trombone, and Alex spoke of enjoying this interplay. Even the drums came in on this, when spaces opened for tiny two or four bar solos. I heard history in the simple melodic concepts, but the present in some unexpected intervals and structures and a certain ironic humour in the take on melody. There was history, too, in the collective soloing, although the twisting and weaving through rich syncopations and polyrhythms was modern. I wasn’t surprised to hear a Dave Holland tune, because there’s a similar web of sound woven by that band, or to hear tunes by trombonists Nils Wogram or Bob Brookmeyer. But most tunes were by Lucian. I guessed it was a standing joke that the tunes had human names: James, Angel, Ray, Paul, Charlie and Victoria. Victoria was a lovely slow unison melody. I heard hints of Zoe Hauptman’s Buttercups and wondered if this might be a Sydney style, but the Hauptmans were also in Lucian’s school band/music school milieu and they still play together, so maybe it’s just this Canberra/Sydney coterie. What other impressions? Strongly syncopated pedals on bass and some wonderful bass solos there were common when the two horns dropped out; plenty of changes of time – fours and sixes and a five; easy swings and pre-bop sensibility on the Brookmeyer tune; volume at a subdued human level; careful articulation that confirmed for me their concern with melody.

This was open, informed, approachable music with a deceptive simplicity and I loved it. The Impermanent Quartet was led by Lucian McGuinness (trombone) with Dan Junor (alto sax), Alex Boneham (bass) and Jamie Cameron (drums).

Spelling Christmas c-a-r-o-l-s

2011-12-16T20:44:00.009+11:00

It’s Christmas and that spells carols. They are lovely in their serenity or profundity or frivolity or sheer joy, and singing them is an annual treat. I caught a concert by Louise Page at lunchtime at St Albans Anglican Church, and she was joined at various points by a sweetness of sopranos, both students and ex-students. So this was both pleasing to hear as entertainment and intellectually satisfying as an exploration of diverse voices. The classical soprano is a unique voice. Strong and high, cutting easily through choirs and orchestras, it’s something special. It’s almost instrumental rather than human, proud like the violin, haughty, swelling and unstoppable, beautiful and pure, frequently unintelligible and otherwordly, but glorious and overwhelming. (This becomes literal in the film, The Fifth Element, when Sarah Brightman’s voice merges with synthesizer and soars to an impossible pitch as an alien soprano). Soprano is not a voice of jazz. Jazzers are far more rooted to the earth. Soprano is a cultural peak product, something that demands and rewards time and understanding. The immense vibrato, too, is a thing of beauty but unreality which it shares it with modern classical strings, and increasingly with jazz that’s rediscovering vibrato after Miles’ rejection in the ‘50s. But I diverge.

This was quite a range of songs. Louise started with Joy to the world. Piano accompanist, Phillipa Candy, had arranged this with screeds of diatonic chords that rippled up and down the keyboard. I liked this, as I liked her accompaniment for the whole concert: capable and responsive, while obviously reading the charts. By the end of the session, I noticed, too, how rich and relatively deep and mature was Louise’s voice. All these voices could fill this small room with power and volume, but Louise’s was that much more even and purposeful in her interpretations. I chuckled that the words (Italian or English) remained unintelligible, but the quality was undeniable. Then on through a range of songs: some Australian carols including Wilfred Holland’s Bethlehem that I know from choir days; the common but delicious Bach/Gounod Ave Maria that Louise dedicated to birthing mothers; even pop hits like O come all ye faithful. And through several other, very differently sounding soprano voices. I particularly liked the tune No lullaby need Mary sing, by Joseph Clockey, that displayed unexpected modern melody. Katherine Warren sang that one. O Holy night, by Adolphe Adam, has to be my favourite carol. Julia Wee sang that one. There were humourous ones, like the rejigged lyrics of My true love gave to me, which Louise introduced wryly “for all the mercenary habits we’ve come to accept”. Louise claimed one of her favourites was Robert MacGimsey’s Sweet little Jesus boy, which is written as a black American spiritual with blue notes. There were also songs I think I’ve never heard, perhaps not surprising given the paucity of carolling in my life. I doubt I’ve ever heard Little road to Bethlehem, by Michael Head, which Pamela Andrews sang. I loved it when when we heard some harmonies. First was The silver stars, by William James, where Louise and Sarah Campbell sang together. Then the audience singalong led by pairs of singers with raised voices throughout the chapel. Everyone has to know these superhits: The first Noel; Hark the herald angels sing; O come all ye faithful. That was fun all round. Complete with Louise authoritatively singing a complex counterpoint that had me striving to hold the tune.

What a lovely and satisfying way to while away a lunchtime. Immensely better than … ugh … Christmas shopping. Louise Page (soprano) led various combinations of the sopranos Katherine Warren, Pamela Andrews, Julia Wee, Sarah Campbell and Petra Lindsay with the accompaniment of Phillipa Candy (piano).

On the other foot

2011-12-11T17:32:00.000+11:00

Pics by Phil Jones

I’m usually the bloke taking pics of bands, but when Sax & the Citizens (Gossips’ instrumental quartet) played a private gig the other night, Phil Jones of the Travelling School of Photography was busy with his camera on us. He was lucky to have spotlights in the back garden so there was plenty of light. Phil gave me a CD of pics before he left. Here’s just one. Thanks, Phil. Nicely done.

philjones.com.au

Eternal triangle

2011-12-10T09:15:00.005+11:00

The eternal triangle of jazz has to be the piano trio.

Pen Island played the other night at the Loft and they are a piano trio, but they are exuberant and fun and virtuosic and iconoclastic, so they didn’t feel so eternal, except maybe when they played Tony Williams’ beautiful tune, PeeWee, or their own gentle, thoughtful tune called Gloria’s whole. Most of their originals were dissonant and hugely energetic and richly improvised so they felt far more transient. They played a few known tunes, too, in this style. Autumn leaves was one. Now we all know Autumn leaves: no jazz musician could pass his training without it. Pen Island played it, but I had no idea where the tune was or what were the chords or the melody. I asked Brett later, and apparently he had played the chords backwards (starting with the last chord and reading left and up), extending each chord to four bars, and Gerard had played the melody in inversion. Then they’d improvised over that. The first set had been one long improv. Brett confirmed: no key, no preconceptions, just big ears. They finished with Skylark which should be as identifiable as Autumn leaves to my (smaller) ears. This had Brett playing the melody (“fairly freely”) then a solo, then piano playing the tune over a flattened bass riff (b5, b9?). But again, all richly improvised and heavily substituted so I only caught hints of melody during the first bass chorus. Bad Plus came to mind with their knavish energy, and I heard their atonal clamour a few times, but this was more unconventional, more extreme, more challenging. I loved it but I didn’t always understand it. I could hear extensions on bass and sequences on piano and lots of rock-influenced drum grooves and even a few walks. They were clear enough. But the whole was far more enveloping. There was some real beauty at times that took you back amongst the delirious energy. There was a bass tone to die for: big and round and clear as day. There was harmonic cleverness and massed 20th century dissonance from piano. There was a wonderful drum solo at the end that developed on Miles’ coloured and sometimes disjunctive style. There was a precision in the rests and returns that surprised and pleased me. There was some tuneful playing with obvious skills, but that lyricism was a surprise. These were players searching the boundaries with only ears to survive by and doing it at breakneck speed. Exhilarating and devilish and daring.

Canberra has its Parliamentary Triangle, and Pen Island has its Eternal Triangle and looking at their album cover had not only me thinking of another eternal triangle. Pen Island was intellect and extremity and skills and a stretch for many, but it was fabulous. Pen Island is Gerard “Phantom Jazz” Masters (piano), Brett “Lumberjack” Hirst (bass) and Miles “Stallion” Thomas (drums).

In passing

2011-12-10T08:27:00.003+11:00

Canberra is not NYC or even Melbourne, but I can occasionally catch two interesting gigs in a night. After Pen Island it was Andy Campbell’s JUBB at Smith’s Bookshop. I only caught part of the set, but this was steady mid-tempo fusion with attractive melodies, often played as sweet unison by guitar and tenor, with lyrical and mostly restrained solos and several long crescendos. I wondered if the potent guitar chording defined much of the sound. Andy presented all original tunes: Led Zep (an obvious and deserved dedication); Grey ghost; PP2 (a new version of an earlier tune called Pool party). The final tune was Darcy, written about Andy’s dog, and it seemed a different composition from the others. It was something like a shuffle in 5/4 with variations. Andy volunteered that Darcy is a happy dog and you could feel canine revelry in those variations. This was satisfying fusion with attractive melody and Andy’s amiable presence. Andy Campbell (guitar, compositions) leads JUBB with Max Williams (tenor), Chris Pound (bass) and Luke Keenan-Brown (drums).

Hear JUBB

Cocktails

2011-12-07T21:18:00.002+11:00

Bands are unique as each player is unique. I noticed this particularly with James Annesley’s band when it played at the Gods. The second tune was the lovely old Bye bye blackbird and it started with Tom on bass accompanying James on soprano sax. I could hear the strains of an authentic ‘50s jazz bar here. More Shorter than Coltrane (although I heard strains of Trane in other tunes) and a simple but nicely taut bass. Then Hugh came in on drums, maintaining the feel of the era, even visually as he sat over the kit, toms forming a pretty flat surface with the snare and the cymbals laid low. This feel faded but the individuality of the band firmed when Other Hugh came in. Other Hugh is Hugh Stuckey on a guitar that sounds more recent with searing fusion solos of long lines softened with digital echo. So I heard mixed eras but what else is music these days? The tunes, too, varied over eras. The first set had several covers: early and modern standards like Bye bye blackbird and Impressions and a funky Tutu to end the set. The second set was heavy with originals and these floated with colour and landscape: mostly single chord grooves, some with odd times or contorted turnarounds. The band played through these charts, almost as a medley. I caught few titles when listed later. I think one original was called Erin’s enthusiasm and I could really feel a kid’s enthusiasm in the 7/4 groove and occasional contortions and endless inquisitiveness in the sax solo. I liked the way the band was busy but gentle: busy with Other Hugh’s forthright guitar against Tom’s doggedly solid bass but there was also obvious Coltranesque spirituality from James on soprano. I enjoyed the drum solos, too. First Hugh cut time into triplet feels and rolls that just dropped out of the rhythm. There was colour in the choice of drums, but mostly this feeling of falling through the skins and through the tempo. The overall feel of the night for me was modern with delicious band dynamics: often quiet, reserved, moving with colours and landscapes, but also outspoken with that forceful guitar and its broad sweeping arpeggios and dissonant sequences. This was comfortable and inventive playing with a really solid, steady underlay. Modern, occasionally brash sounds that spoke also with the language of a swing era. Somewhat like the cocktail of this title.

James Annesley (tenor, soprano saxes) led a quartet with Hugh Stuckey (guitar), Tom Lee (bass) and Hugh Harvey (drums).

Cyberhalides Jazz Photos by Brian Stewart

Degrees of separation

2011-12-06T23:30:00.007+11:00

It’s common enough to hear tell of six degrees of separation. Some people even know of Stanley Milgram’s Small world experiment, but it was also a topic of study by Mandelbrot (of fractals fame) and others. Recently I happened on two articles* which confirmed the thesis using the Facebook community as a very large study group. The finding was an average separation of 4.73 between individuals in geographically and age-determined groups, although I imagine the use of an online social tool at a relatively early stage of life may have influenced the results. I experienced several examples of the d-of-s thesis over this last weekend when I attended a Year 12 reunion in Adelaide (I won’t say which one – it’s not pretty).

First example. The reunion was in a pub near the old school. A band started up in the afternoon playing Stevie Wonder and the like for a large and enthusiastic audience. I’d noticed some particularly impressive bass warm-ups then effective, interesting and lengthy bass solos. The band was Zkye & the Guyz and the bassist was Damien Steele Scott. He had studied at the tertiary jazz school in Adelaide and was proud to have lived off his music since his studied, so no surprise that he played a mean bass. But not just that: he’d attended the same school as our reuniting group.

Second example. One of our crew spoke of a musical family and one of them had been playing that afternoon in a concert with the Norwood Symphony Orchestra. It’s a community orchestra and they were performing Beethoven’s violin concerto, Bellini and Coleridge-Taylor. So when we four musketeers, Val, John, Peter and I took off later for a coffee on The Parade, we could easily identify viola player Damien and cellist Elen at the local bar. Circles within circles.

Third and more disappointing example. I am not religious but I attended a Catholic (Jesuit) school and I respect tradition so I was disappointed to see a stained glass window that had been funded by the family of one of our reunionists had been sold to this pub by the Church. The original physical Church building that held these windows had been deconsecrated and the remains sold off, and this particular result, the relocation of these windows at a pub, was not well received by the family. There it was, behind the band, six stained glass windows with some very significant religious imagery and the names of memorialised families. And the pub’s name painted onto the glass. It seems disrespectful to me and was taken so by the relevant family.

The Facebook-Degrees of separation studies were by Ugander, Backstrom and others*. The band was Zkye & the Guyz comprising Zkye Compson-Harris (vocals), Damien Steele Scott (bass), Peter Grimwood (guitar) and Andrew Bignell (drums). The Norwood Symphony Orchestra performers were Damien Day (viola) and Elen Shute (cello). The reunionists were Eric, Peter, Rod, John, Ian, Chris, Mick, Michael, John and Val. The musketeers were Eric, Peter, Val and John.

*The Anatomy of the Facebook Social Graph / Johan Ugander, Brian Karrer, Lars Backstrom, Cameron Marlow, http://arxiv.org/abs/1111.4503 viewed 8 Dec 2011. Four Degrees of Separation / Lars Backstrom et al, http://arxiv.org/abs/1111.4570 viewed 8 Dec 2011.

Best way to end the term 1

2011-12-02T14:50:00.004+11:00

I only catch The Phoenix and TAFE when I see something of particular interest but I usually enjoy it when I do. The music course at Canberra Institute Of Technology (CIT) had an end-of-year concert where the faculty played with students performing mostly original tunes by the students. My mate mike is doing some composition studies and he was presenting two tunes. Mike’s were more complex, filmic sounding tunes. One lovely ballad, Soliloquy, that we’ve played in Gossips, and a complex structured piece in 7/4 with various time changes. The rest of the night was not like that. It was more rock and blues and pop, which I can only enjoy, and then the ending. More on that later.

So who were the performers? The faculty was a great little band. I’m sure the rehearsals would not have been extensive. I know that they had just a short time with Mike’s tunes and they were obviously the most complex and Greg was preparing by reading through dots in the break. Many of the other tunes were the daily grind for players with this experience and they were played with eminently solid grooves, plenty of colour and some great solos. James Luke was solid and wonderfully authoritative and often playful on a 6-string Modulus bass with classic SWR/4x10 presence. This was a delightfully varied performance of chords, slaps, pops, thumbs, fingerfunk over 24-frets and six strings but always with an unrelenting groove in mind. Dan McLean was fabulous on trumpet. He used mute on one ballad and a rotary-valved flugelhorn on another, but it was mostly hugely blues-inflected, growly trumpet. This was really strong playing in an idiom that doesn’t see lots of trumpet. Third year student AJ (Adrian Tonkovicz) was on drums and was also eminently solid and steady with a punchy amplified kick, as is called for in a rock/blues style, although he could have let loose a bit more for my jazz-atuned ears. I found both Troy Hambly and Greg Stott were taking a back-line rhythmic role, or at least were not loud and out front and centre, but both blew the audience away with fast and furious solos when they let go. Troy impressed me as musical director / conductor with the dynamics and coordination he imparted, a common role for pianists, and played some great rhythmic two-handed solos out of the R&B songbook. Greg is a stunner with sweeps and fast screaming guitar and there was some of this, although mostly he was playing more cleanly with a bluesy approach. Either way, terrific and exciting guitar playing. He also filled rhythmic duties on a cajun rhythm box at times although this was not too prominent amongst the other players.

The faculty band from the CIT Music School was Troy Hambly (keyboard), James Luke (bass), Dan McLean (trumpet, flugelhorn), Greg Stott (guitar) and third year student AJ (Adrian Tonkovicz, drums)

Best way to end the term 2

2011-12-02T14:38:00.005+11:00

Danni Paryce started the show by singing a version of Cry me a river with a notably strong voice. Belinda Whyte sang two tunes with offsiders. A James Morrison soul tune called You give me something, and her original called Rise above. Her voice was nicely even and controlled and I enjoyed the sweet harmonies from Ruth then Lauree. Maddie Smeltink presented a totally different style, a quizzical old-style swing original about a modern day temptress called All about Eve. I must admire her for her for being so catholic in her tastes. Alex Cowell presented a very attractive original balled. Alex is the daughter of well-known local blues singer, Judy Pierce, so I’m not surprised that she showed such maturity and presence. By the end of the night, she’d sung numerous other tunes with confidence and real enjoyment for her and the dancing audience. Entertainment is much more than just musical skill and Alex carried it over with considerable panache. Ruth O’Brien sang Winter blues with a nicely authentic bluesy feel. Lauree Stuart sang another original ballad called Perfect, and Mike Walsh led his fusion original that reminded me of Corea and gave space for some nice indulgent solos from the band and beaming smiles from Mike.

The second set started with two originals by Mike Dooley. Mike is a seasoned player and it showed in the richness of composition, his leadership on the bandstand and his capable horn-like right hand solo lines. Miles away was a moody 7/4 with plenty of changes and Soliloquy was a lovely ballad. It was no surprise to me when Troy Hambly introduced Mike as not seeming like a student. Maggie Jeffs sang Fatts Waller’s Ain’t misbehavin’ as a rocky 12/8 and Gershwin’s Summertime with obvious and attractive Amy Whitehouse influences. The band then played a gentle and pretty original instrumental number by Lauree called Swan waltz. How interesting that a singer writes an instrumental. Simon Weaving sang a working class singer-songwriter tune, and Alex returned to present an original song by drummer AJ, although with apologies for not learning and performing the middle rap due to gender issues. Wouldn’t be alone there. The formal program ended with Simon returning to sing Ian Dury’s Hit me with your rhythm stick with that hugely funky bass line.

Then it was on for one and all for a long, unplanned medley of funk and rock and disco and good times. This really was a blast: dancing in the aisles, requests and passing of mics, lots of good muso memory and a few searches for chords and riffs, punchy fingerfunk bass, Mitch Canas amongst other visitors, rotating singers and harmonies and tons of smiles and laughter and joshing all round. What tunes? The intense funk of Rhythm stick started it, then over the next 30 minutes or so I noted Play that funky music, Superstition, Purple haze, Californication, Beat it!, My Sharona, Groove is in the heart, Sex machine and perhaps another half dozen. All pulled out of the hat or called as requests. Not too obscure, but nicely done at no notice. So? Great night, impressive playing and much fun. Just as the end of term should be.

Students and faculty from the CIT Music School included Danni Paryce, Maddie Smeltink, Alex Cowell, Ruth O’Brien, Lauree Stuart and Maggie Jeffs (singers), Adrian Tonkovicz (drums) and Mike Walsh (guitar). Mitch Canas (vocals) sat in.

Some day, Sunday

2011-11-28T17:54:00.000+11:00

It was a sunny and warm Sunday afternoon and Megan and I had just been to the flicks (the filmic adaption of Patrick White’s Eye of the storm: well done but a turgid tale of a rich warped family). We came out to find Annie Sloan playing a final few songs for the local imbibers. Annie’s a lively singer with nice ballads and a great audience manner. The backing was clean and open and comfortable with the changes: a duo of John Black on piano and Michael Lynch on bass. The last song was One Day I'll Fly Away as sung by Nicole Kidman on Moulin Rouge. I still have it going around in my head. And the sweet flavour of a very fruity dark ale. Nice way to spend a warm Sunday arvo.

Annie Sloan (vocals) sang with John Black (piano) and Michael Lynch (bass) on a warm Sunday afternoon at Charlie Black’s.

Two takes on Christmas

2011-11-27T13:49:00.003+11:00

I’ve missed too much recently with gigs and work and family, but I managed to emerge with an odd but satisfying combination of choral works for Christmas by SCUNA, the ANU Choral Society. The concert was for Christmas and there were two works, but of quite a stunning diversity.

Firstly, a modern (1943) piece by Britten to the quirky words of Christopher Smart written about 150 eyars earlier while he was in an asylum. You don’t catch the words while sung, but this was praise of God by all things created. Wikipedia describes it as “idiosynctratic and ecstatic”, and that easily fits, given lines like “For I will consider my Cat Jeoffrey, ... a cat, surpassing in beauty, from whom I take occasion to bless Almighty God” and subsequent praise for the valourous mouse. This was a work of organ, choir and SATB soloists, in eight sections lasting 17 minutes. I felt most comfortable with the big choral segments with supporting organ. This is clearly not an easy work and the performance was pleasing.

The second work was far easier to digest. Marc-Antoine Charpentier’s Messe de Minuit is a midnight mass written for the Jesuit Church of St Louis in Paris. It was written in the popular song style of the time for a small orchestra and choir. This was sweet, lively dance-like baroque music featuring the simple tones of recorders with organ and strings. Lots of sturdy crotchets and bouncing dotted crotchets from the orchestra and diatonic calls and responses from the choir. Nowhere near the challenge for the ear or the intellect that the Britten presented, but perhaps more comely for the Christmas season. I liked this one very much, especially with its smooth sounding strings and the directness of the recorders.

This was also my first visit to All Saints Anglican Church in Ainslie. It’s an interesting building with an interesting history. It originally served as a railway station for funeral trains at Sydney’s Rookwood Cemetery. Funeral trains ended in the 1920s and the roof was finally taken by bushfire in the 1950s. Stan Taunton and son, Canberra builders, transferred the stones to Canberra, rebuilt the roof and it was dedicated in 1959. It’s a lovely sandstone building featuring hewn sculpture, and it has a strange form to allow trains to enter at one end. So it’s slightly odd in design and purpose and location, but humbly reminiscent of European mediaeval churches.

SCUNA performed Benjamin Britten’s Rejoice in the Lamb and Marc-Antoine Charpentier’s Messe de Minuit at the All Saints Anglican Church in Ainslie with conductor Matthew Stuckings and accompaniest Anthony Smith.

Rumble or thunder

2011-11-20T09:02:00.001+11:00

Obama was in Canberra and you could hear the distant rumbling of FA-18s between the movements, but Beethoven on a grand piano at close quarters was thunder: powerful and passionate and also a source of a greater awe. Pianist Robert Schmidli was playing a concert for a small audience at a little church in Lyons, across the way from Woden. These are lunchtime concerts, held monthly, organised by Louise Page. I hadn’t heard of them before but I’ll do my best to attend a few more. They are local and presumably not by the professional elite (although Louise sings the next). Robert, who was playing this day, has a demanding day job. But it was intimate and personal and also purposeful, which is how I like it.

Robert played two pieces. The first was John Field’s Sonata no. 1 in Eb major. Field was an Irish pianist/composer who studied with Clementi, was friends with Czerny, originated the nocturne, lived in Moscow and influenced the Russians and was admired by Chopin and Liszt. I read in Wikipedia that, apart form the piano nocturne, he’s known for “chromatically decorated melody over sonorous left hand parts supported by sensitive pedalling” and “ostinato patterns and pedal points”. Chromaticism and ostinatos sounded stylistically modern but that was his later Russian period. The first sonata was dedicated to Clementi and I found it lively and relatively formal and, I thought, stylistically predating both classical and romantic. The Beethoven that followed just highlighted this. It was Beethoven’s “Waldstein” Piano Sonata no.21 in C major. This is strong, impassioned, brave music. Repeating themes of heavy left hand chords and rabid left hand scales and delicate right hand responses and trills. Dance and drama throughout. Pedals that meld the heavy and release to allow the detail to show through. A middle movement that was sparse and halting. Robert played both pieces with understanding and love for his small but attentive audience.

The jet planes may be technically stunning and fear-inducing, but they were mercifully distant and Beethoven was there with us. You can hear Waldstein and its like in the concert halls of the world but give me a decent, committed performer in an intimate setting any day. This was a lovely and satisfying outing and thanks to Robert. Robert Schmidli (piano) performed Betthoven’s Waldstein sonato and John Field’s sonata no.1 at St Alban’s Anglican Church in Lyons.

Visiting Gossipist

2011-11-16T21:07:00.003+11:00

Gossips played a gig at Bite to Eat Café last Sunday and it was a good one. It was a fine, warm Spring afternoon with kids cavorting in the park outside and parents indulging in tapas and local boutique brews. And the host, Katherine, is great fun. But just a few pics Gossips and the band with Leanne’s niece, Laura Nuttall, who sat in for a tune. I lost her on the PA, but Leanne confirms a strong voice and good pitch. So here’s the next generation. Thanks for singing with us, Laura.

Cosmo2

2011-11-15T21:18:00.001+11:00

Gossips played over the weekend at the 2011 Cosmo Cabaret fund-raiser for Timor. Other returnees were soprano Kirsten Mann and The Cashews. Newbies this year were Anton Wurzer and the K-Motion dancers presenting a display on Argentinian tango. A busy night of varied entertainment and goodwill and chatter.

Gossips opened with a short set. We touched on the ‘40s theme of last year, but there was more a sweep of the 20th Century. Leanne even got to revisit a Goth past when we played Love cats. Most fun was the set with Anton, but more on that later. Kristen was again accompanied by Mike, but she sang a more earthy set this year. Firstly an Erik Satie song, obviously in French and more folksome than last year’s Debussy, but later a Celtic-sounding song of a barmaid who makes some extra money on the side from disreputable activities. The soprano technique does not make for lyrics that are easy to understand, but we got the message. The Cashews followed with their wonderful, sometimes touching, always clever songs of Canberra life presented with smiles and wit and exemplary interaction with the audience. Alison and Pete have the sweetest of mingling voices and unobtrusive harmonies and match it with a decent folksy instrumental technique. And was that an 8-string uke that Pete played?

The K-Motion dancers came after the break. The tango is a thing of some interest in jazz circles, but I only see the dance in films. It started with four couples that form from an inner circle surrounding the dance floor. The male, red jacketed, seeks a female and the sultry, seductive encounter begins. This is tightly framed, closely moving dance, bodies close and suggestive, even if faces are distant and formal. Anton followed with a solo set of lively, flexible tunes from fleeting fingers. There was some humour to end with a medley that included Stairway to Heaven, but mostly it was busy, enlivened improvisation. Anton plays a hot accordion, and I love that sound. It’s not one that we often hear in jazz, and perhaps the only one that we hear in jazz in Canberra, but it deserves more popularity. Perhaps it’s my Italian background but I love that sound and Anton plays with vigour and fluency and improvisational skills that makes it such a pleasure. Gossips returned for a few final tunes with Anton, and this is where I particularly noticed. One was a boppy 5/4 original by Anton, another was a hot bop blues, but it was Bluesette that particularly fitted. It’s a composition of Toots Thielemans so the tone fits perfectly with the snappy wind tone of the accordion.

So a very pleasant night of considerable variation and some new exposures. Much enjoyed. The Gossips are Leanne Dempsey (vocals), Mike Dooley (piano), Richard Manderson (saxes), Eric Pozza (bass) and Brenton Holmes (drums). Kirsten Mann (voice soprano) was accompanied by Mike Dooley (piano). The Cashews are Pete Lyon (vocals, guitar) and Alison Procter (vocals, guitar, accordion). In individual K-Motion dancers are unknown to CJ. Anton Wurzer (piano accordion) performed solo and with the Gossips. And this all happened at the Second annual Cosmopolitan Cabaret in Curtin.

Monanism

2011-11-08T19:37:00.006+11:00

So it’s called. Monanism is the current exhibition at the new and edgy private Museum of New and Old Art (MONA) in Hobart. Megan and I were in Hobart for a few days and we got to MONA X+ and this is what we found. It’s quirky, confronting, fascinating, quite brilliant and a challenge. My impression is that everyone visiting Hobart is going there but it’s not really for all. It’s nestled in a vineyard (good), provides accommodation (good) although not cheap, has its own boutique brewery (nice) and is seriously well designed. I overheard an older lady who was impressed by the architecture (everyone is: built low, glass hydraulic lifts, cut from sandstone, on the estuary, wonderful views, its own bus and ferry to deliver you from Hobart docks) but she was not comfy with the art. The old art is ancient, mostly Egyptian, and it seems to jump over the years between, as it also misses Africa and the Americas and Asia. Not all the collection is on display, but I remember one 16th Century Italian wax head (an interesting piece, given the impermanence of the material), Egyptian and modern/contemporary. And what challenging modern work! Lots of sex; lots of fannies (150 in C…s and other conversations / Greg Taylor and friends); all sorts of bodily functions, including a fascinating, if pongy, display of human digestion (Cloaca professional / Wim Delvoye); lots of video; some Nolans and Boyds, including a Breughel-like Melbourne in atomic flames (Melbourne burning / Arthur Boyd). There was a good deal of humour and frequent politics, ideas prioritised over skills (common enough in recent visual art), shock and oddity and in-your-face vulgarity. I was intrigued by the presumably genuine assisted-suicide kit that you could experience without total/final commitment (My beautiful chair / Greg Taylor, Dr Philip Nitsche). I squirmed and laughed with some embarrassment at the very non-suburban, in-your-face bodily investigations. But it was well attended and thoughtfully if idiosyncratically collected and presented with excellent graphic design and a rich experience of digitally-enabled live guides. Truly a fascinating day out.

MONA itself has a notable provenance. It’s a collection of one man, David Walsh, a Tasmanian millionaire and “rabid atheist” who grew up locally. Wikipedia says it nicely: “A university drop-out and autodidact with mathematical skills, Walsh made his fortune by developing a technical gambling system used to bet on horse racing and other sports globally.” Well, it’s certainly a good use for all that gambling profit. The Museum of Old and New Art (MONA X+) is located and Hobart.

PS, I’ve thrown in three pics of Hobart: a graffito, two transvestites at the mardigras and some typical cute Georgian houses in Battery Point behind Salamanca Place.

Big Bluesy Band

2011-11-05T21:50:00.001+11:00

The chalk and cheese saga continued when I attended the Loft for the full New Sheik experience. Leigh Barker’s full band was there for a night of swinging, down-home dirty bluesy, hollerin’ jazz and it was great. This is a very good band playing music of an era that is is variously touching and refreshing and enlivening to visit. This is Billie Holiday passion, Ellingtonian intellect, Fats Waller bounce, blues growl and corn field holler. Great fun, touching or entertaining lyrics, and the biggest audience I’ve seen at the Loft. It’s an era that entertains and has a following, and this band does the job of promotion and can tickle an audience so deserve the following.

Leigh Barker is the new sheik himself, leading the band from his surprisingly loud unamplified bass (I’m pretty sure even this gig was not amplified). Quipping with the audience and choosing tunes at whim for the gig and the recording that was in train. Heather Stewart is the vocalist up front who also doubles on classically-trained, but down-home violin-cum-fiddle. She’s wonderfully touching when singing Billie Holliday and nicely growling on the blues. Both the horns, Eamon McNellis and Don Stewart were blow-outs. They both display a love of the older styles of jazz, so their solos are delicious and lively diatonic explorations of the chord structure, their playing includes the growls and glissandoes and tonguing that shout New Orleans, their harmonised backing licks are neat and clean and their collective improvisation was intelligent and together. And it wasn’t just old style: I noticed Eamon breaking from sweet diatonics into dissonance several times, but he’d equally sit easily on the most minimal of melodies and drain it for its beauty. And what lovely brassy tones they each had: clean, rounded, nicely articulated. Matt Boden led a few tunes in trio or smaller formats. I loved his simple statements and correct, clear interpretations of the underlying harmonies. And Al McGrath-Kerr was introduced as the band member with the longest name (the band was described as the “least single band I’ve even been in … in case anyone’s getting any ideas”). Al was open and quite minimal, dropping into loping marches or playing with rudiments and rolls.

I love Ellington’s Come Sunday, so that was a delight when they played it as a violin-led quartet. Billie Holliday featured in I must have that man and again in Moonlight and you and you could do nothing but empathise with the desperation. There weer joysome blues, often with the guys in the band hollerin’ responses to Heather’s calls. They played a Tom Vincent original, Big Creek wedding, with a cyclic, songbook structure. Nice to see our players playing tunes by their mates: we don’t just have to play the Real Book. There was an Appalachian fiddle tune that they jazzed up into swinging solos, and a blues tune that the audience voted for, Driving Ducks Blues. And the wit of Fats Waller’s Write myself a letter.

So, a busy night at the Loft, lots of fun, lots of good playing, lots of history and wit and a touch of nostalgia. And the night was recorded in the current full-bore, multitrack recording series that ArtSound is involved in, so we might hear it someday as a CD. I for one loved it. The New Sheiks are Leigh Barker (bass), Eamon McNelis (trumpet), Don Stewart (trombone), Matt Boden (piano), Al McGrath-Kerr (drums) with Heather Stewart (vocals, violin).

Chalk and cheese

2011-11-03T22:52:00.004+11:00

It’s chalk and cheese but I love it all. Last night was the Andrew Robson Trio playing with Sandy Evans. Andrew at one stage talked of Ornette Coleman’s influence on his playing and having heard and met him in Sydney. Ornette is not pre-bop, so you can imagine how far this concert was from my last report. The band also played a series of originals from Andrew and a blues by Coltrane. I particularly noticed the ease and beauty of the harmony lines from the horns when they appeared although they weren’t frequent. Otherwise this was a night of Andrew’s angular melodies and great solos against a syncopated and responsive rhythm section.

Andrew’s solos struck me as oblique, intellectual affairs of long intervals, uncommon scales, changing harmonies and truncated notes, but he surprised me with occasional smoother scalar runs. Sandy was more legato in her lines, more smooth and rounded and deeper in pitch and tone from her lower pitched sax but also from her musical conception. The rhythm section was modern syncopated and wonderfully strong in presence and responsiveness. Steve played one fast walk, but mostly the beat was divided, playing once on 1-2 or syncopating freely over the bar or playing obligato lines or even devolving into free along with the rest of the band on a dedication to Ornette. Toby was just sitting in but did an admirable job, eyes on charts and responding quickly to snippets of melody or to a line of solo. There was an easy enjoyment on stage for their annual visit to the Gods. Andrew is a local, having studied at the Jazz School, so was happy to have family in attendance, but the whole band was good-willed and chuckled frequently. Mostly, the tunes were originals by Andrew. There were a few dedications. That one to Ornette was called Texas Ranger and was clearly in his style, a bluesy open melody that dissolved into a passage of free jazz. Another dedication was to Don Johnson, now deceased but head of the Jazz School when Andrew was studying. The Coltrane blues was Locomotion. Otherwise there were some urgent moderns, Combover was a early bop-style, Silk Road was mysterious and floating, there was a ballad with a bass solo that was precisely pitched and rich with double stops, Children in the aisles was a reference to a catholics gig in Paddington.

It was a demanding but also satisfying gig. I wondered if Andrew’s family frequently attended jazz gigs, because it was complex, but it was also clean and professional and wonderfully played and quite insinuating. Andrew Robson (alto) led a band with Sandy Evans (tenor), Steve Elphick (bass) and Toby Hall (drums) at the Gods.

Cyberhalides Jazz Photos by Brian Stewart

Not quite midnight in Paris

2011-11-01T21:39:00.004+11:00

This was a night of many pleasures. Delightful swing, performed with real authenticity in a studio environment in the company of friends … and a few beers. The band was a trio of Matt Boden, Leigh Barker and Mark Sutton, with singer Heather Stewart sitting in for a few tunes. The location was Mark Sutton’s working studio which was celebrating the arrival of a Yamaha C5 grand piano. The beer was Coopers.

This night had me thinking of a film I’d just seen, Woody Allen’s Midnight in Paris. It’s a light entertainment about a writer who time warps back to the artistic, bon-vivant era of 1920s Paris of Scott-Fitzgerald, Hemingway, Picasso, Miro. The author arrives at a fine party with piano-man Cole Porter singing tuneful witticisms to the delight of various onlookers. We’ve all heard these tunes, but like Woody’s author-alter-ago, we seldom get to truly hear them in the playful glory of these stylish but desperate pre-bop times. At least not with this authenticity. The piano was clear and acoustic; the bass was unadorned, unamplified, gut-strung and surprisingly loud; the drums were minimal and mostly brushed. They swung with real ease and joy. This was all on par, but it was Heather’s singing that really defined the authenticity to me. The songs of tender lips and moonlight - and the high and imploring voice that cut to bridges of womanly strength in disappointment - got closest to the era for me. I spoke to Heather later and she talked of Bessie Smith and how she was claimed by both blues and jazz followers. And how jazz is a respectful and intelligent art that knows its history and draws on it. So when she sang chromatic lines they were nowhere out of place even if not on Bessie’s songsheet. Authentic and timely singing. Matt is in Paris these days, which just maintains my deceipts here. He was obviously enjoying the re-registered and tuned piano, firstly with Monkish non-conformity, but also with simple joy in the delightful melodies of the American songbook. Leigh worked hard with a high action but turned out frequent bass solos of lively lyricism. Mark amused me when he asked “another swing?” for this was the nature of the outing, but he filled the role with ease on a little kit that was perfect for the job: just adequate to state the four lines/limbs of drumming: kick, sock, snare and ride. All in theme. You won’t be surprised to hear of this setlist: How deep the ocean, Body & soul, Stomping at the Savoy, But not for me, an Ellington blues. There were only two vocal tunes: Sit right down and write myself a letter and The moonlight and you, but always with what irony!

Being in a studio, the music continued even when the band stopped. They were recorded, of course, and we huddled around to hear the effect of different mics and mic placements. It was just a rough mix, but it sounded clear and detailed, although obviously lacking the sheen that effects and processing and mastering will give to the final product. Mark and Greg have a fine studio with decent gear, digital and analogue options, several decent spaces, the skills of experienced musicians-cum-engineers and that lovely Yamaha C5.

Matt Boden (piano), Leigh Barker (bass), Mark Sutton (drums) and Heather Stewart (vocals) performed and recorded for a small audience at Mark’s recording studio. Greg Stott engineered on the night.

Turossing it (Moruya 2011/1)

2011-10-27T21:32:00.001+11:00

Moruya is an annual opportunity to catch up on the Jazz School, at least if you hang out at the Air Raid Tavern. The larger ensembles are mostly there. The faculty is always represented somehow. This year it was Vince Jones and Matt Thompson as leaders. Luke appeared with some prominent students as the ANU All Stars and also with his Sextet. As usual, I kept a particular eye open for the bassists. There were also the trad and mainstream communities and the festival of voice and the jazz gospel service and the St Louis-style march. The march is fun, especially if you can walk with your instrument. I’ve only seen it once and, as I remember, the tunes were A closer walk with me and When the saints go marching in. The walk is hardly the stuff of the modern or avant garde or even of the Air Raid Tavern, which is the modern jazz centre and the hangout of the Jazz School. We appeared this year as Sax & the Citizens with Mike, Richard and guest Henry Rasmussen. A nice innovation this year was a few open sessions for jams (called Blackboard Band sessions, but the jams just happened, no blackboards required). I got to play in one and another was settling in for the night when I left the Air Raid on Saturday. I saw about 20 bands over the weekend, and won’t report them all. So, what featured for me?

Vince Jones led a quartet with Matt McMahon, Eric Ajaye and Mark Sutton. This was a concert style in a new concert venue, so it’s different from the normal intimate Moruya experience. This was gentle, politically committed and nicely flowing, as Vince’s concert are. I like the way he merges tunes and maintains an atmosphere. And I like the way he’s committed to more than just the music. It’s refreshing. I’m not so spiritually inclined but politically I enjoy the snouty right wing consternation after his concerts. No harm done there. Musically, I especially remember a beautifully detailed head that was richly improvised: detailed like scat but with words and soft and unintrusive. What is it about trumpet that produces singers like this? Vince Jones (vocals, trumpet, flugelhorn) led a quartet with Matt McMahon (keyboards), Eric Ajaye (bass) and Mark Sutton (drums).

I can talk of the Luke Sweeting Sextet and the ANU All Stars (terrible name!) in one paragraph. They were a blast and perhaps my favourite music of the weekend. The All Stars were led by Reuben, with Luke Sweeting, Max Williams, Rohan Dasica and Aidan Lowe. They played music of Reuben and Luke and some interesting non-originals by the likes of Tomas Stanko. Luke’s Sextet added Matt Handel and played charts by Luke. Perhaps the Stars were more mesmeric and restrained, although I remember a march-like piece, while Luke’s tunes were more harmony-flavoured, charted vehicles, but both had involved and committed solos against great grooves and were truly impressive outings. The ANU All Stars was led by Reuben Lewis (trumpet) with Luke Sweeting (keys), Max Williams (tenor), Rohan Dasica (bass) and Aidan Lowe (drums). The Luke Sweeting Sextet added Matt Handel (alto, tenor).

Crossing over with Luke and the All Stars in style and membership was Alex Raupach. He’s another band leader with original compositions in a modern style of less frequent chord changes and satisfying, floating melody. I place somewhere near the All Stars, but without the ventures into mesmeric minimalism. Alex Raupach (trumpet) led a quintet with Matt Handel (alto, tenor), Andy Butler (piano), Rohan Dasica (bass) and Aidan Low (drums).

I’ll highlight just a few individual players although they weren’t the only ones that stood out for me. Firstly, Aidan Lowe for his hard work. He’s a wonderfully strong player and on many first call lists. On Saturday he played eight sets straight and was still playing with interest and energy in the last set, but reasonably turned down the jam afterwards. Another is bassist Rohan Dasica. I’d only heard Rohan at one jam session before where he played a steady and repetitive Footprints. He’s ready and able to maintain an unchanging groove (he’s also studying in the classical school and if you’ve seen some orchestral bass scores, you’ll understand that repetition is common there, too) but he could also lay down and improvise on strong grooves and solo with bow or pizz. I was taken aback when he played the final few bars of Donna Lee in unison with horns at bop speed. He did the same on another tune with German bow. As you’d expect from a classical cat his intonation and chops were just right, but his grooves and walks were also good. I should mention Reuben Lewis, too, for Moruya and several gigs I’ve heard him at recently. His playing these days is wonderfully sophisticated, fully-toned, vibrant and appropriate in some very different contexts. A pleasure.

Turossing it (Moruya 2011/2)

2011-10-27T20:28:00.005+11:00

Matt Thompson has been an enigma to me, being a particularly sparse-cum-minimalist performer, but I heard him twice at Moruya and I loved it. Sparse is certainly the word. You ache for the next delayed note in a melody that’s not so much challenging as just right. And when the whole band does it together, it’s quite magical. It seems touched with blues (a blues connotation?) in its simplicity and its infectiousness and, with Josie’s words, it takes on a singer-songwriter significance. Then, given the desert-dry atmosphere, a waterfall of notes in Matt’s solo in the last tune was a stunner. I enjoyed these two sets. Matt Thomson (piano) leads a quartet with Josie Jensen (vocals), Rafael Jerjen (bass) and Henry Rasmussen (drums).

Lakeside Circus is a favourite of mine. It’s a creation of Jono Lake, but he was called back to Canberra and the band did the set without him. I listened to Sun Ra returning from the coast, and the Circus has a similarly playful and iconoclastic vigour. Trumpeter Shane Spellman took to the drumkit that Jono now leads from and Reuben Lewis sat in for Shane on trumpet. This is vibrant, fun, entertaining, even dissident music that thrives on its frolicsome composition and collective performance. Fun and refreshing. Jono Lake (piano, drums) is the leader and composer for Lakeside Circus but was not available. This day, the Circus was Andrew Fedorovich (alto), Max Williams (tenor), Patrick Langdon (trombone), Reuben Lewis (trumpet), Alec Coulson (bass) and Shane Spellman (drums).

Turossing it (Moruya 2011/3)

2011-10-26T21:27:00.000+11:00

Duck was unexpected and refreshing band: guys just having fun and music you just hang out to dance to. Josie led this funky, R&B outfit playing’60s tunes like the Stylistics and the classic political protest song, What’s going on. This was deadened thumbed bass, off-beat drum fills, beaming synth solos and an overdriven guitar solo at the end that gave me goosebumps. And Josie, cool and contagious out front. The only goosebumps I had all weekend. Duck comprised Josie Jensen (vocals), Callum Stewart (keys), Matt Dixon (guitar), Caleb Wearne (bass) and Sam McNair (drums).

I caught a family outing in two bands: father David Lole led a quartet performing mainstream featuring Melbourne saxist Roger Clark. His daughter is ANU student Rachel Lole who led a band playing delightful interpretations of the standards repertoire. David Lole (piano) led a quartet with Melbournites Roger Clark (tenor) and Alan Richards (drums) and student Caleb Wearne (bass). Rachel Lole (vocals) led a quartet with Clare Dawson (piano), Jared Plane (bass) and Henry Rasmussen (drums).

Turossing it (Moruya 2011/4)

2011-10-26T20:25:00.001+11:00

All three large ANU ensembles were in the Moruya program. I missed the Big Band, but I caught the Commercial and Recordings Ensembles. The Commercials were funky, loud, exciting as ever. I particularly noticed screaming guitar solos by Daniel Kim that were more formed and less extreme than when I’d heard him recently at Hippo, a hot slap bass solo from Jordan Tarento and a really lovely latin groove with drum solo featuring drummer Luke Keenan-Brown with Eric Ajaye on e-percussion, amongst various horn and key solos and Liam Budge’s singing. The Recording Ensemble was led by Matt Handel in the absence of Miro. I was surprised to see two double basses standing at the back, but they didn’t play together. This is a vehicle for members’ composition experiments, and there were a few, but also several of Miro’s tunes for Wanderlust or 10 Part Invention which are all wonderfully insistent and memorable tunes. The ANU Commercial Ensemble were Liam Budge (vocals), Ax Long (trumpet), Callum Gracie (trumpet), Matt Handel (alto), Tye Langford (tenor), Rachel Cummings (trombone), Josh Hart (trombone), Callum Stewart (piano), Daniel Kim (guitar), Jordan Tarento (bass) and Luke Keenan-Brown (drums). The ANU Recording Ensemble were James Moorehouse (clarinet), Matt Handel (alto), Joe McEvily (alto), Stephanie Jones (flute, alto), Miles O‘Connell (tenor), Thomas Fawcett (tenor), Tye Langford (baritone sax), Alex Raupach (trumpet), Reuben Lewis (trumpet), Ax Long (trumpet), Josh Hart (trombone), Valdis Thomann (trombone), Daniel Kim (guitar), Andy Butler (piano), Jared Plane (bass), Alec Coulson (bass), Aidan Lowe drums).

Kade Brown is a young local South Coast pianist. I remember him from last year. I thought that this year he seemed more confident and steady. He plays hard biting 60s modern jazz, Footprints and the like, with power and commitment. It must be hard to run such a band in a small town, but the trio shared a common intensity. Bassist Steve was rather individual with his 5-string double bass and the deep resonance of a classic EV TL bin, and I liked Ken’s drum solo. Kade Brown (piano) played with Steve Clark (bass) and Ken Vatcher (drums).

Just to finish, I have one more family outfit out of the Jazz School: More or Leske. How I love that name! It’s a band formed from two members of the Leske family, Claire and Katrina Leske, to play originals with a hard bop influence. More or Leske are Claire Leske (trumpet), Katrina Leske (marimba), Jared Plane (bass) and Sam McNair (drums).

Turossing it (Moruya 2011/5)

2011-10-25T22:31:00.002+11:00

Moondance was a hit this year as in previous years – they were the popular favourite band at last year’s Moruya, and perhaps other years too. They play a gypsy-styled jazz with professional competence and presence. They had a drummer in the program but none on stage – I guess he couldn’t make it – so the instrumentation was unusual: violin/vocals, soprano sax, guitar and bass. There were lots of smiles, very capable playing on all the instruments and a supportive audience. Bassist John Conley is a friend of my band. I shared a beachhouse with him and was intrigued to hear his stories of years with Galapagos Duck, the renowned and popular Sydney jazz outfit that was the house band at the early Basement. Well played, John. Moondance are Kathy Bluff (violin, vocals), Paul Burjan (sax, flute), Pete Malone (guitar) and John Conley (bass).

Canberra local DJ Gosper was at Moruya this year as a headline band with two members of my band in tow and I caught a few tunes at the Golf Club. DJ is well presented, easy with the audience, considered in performance and with a strong blues influence and approach. This was nice playing and well received by the mainstream audience. DJ Gosper (vocals, harmonica) led the band with Mike Dooley (keys, vocals), Richard Manderson (sax) and Mike Stratford (drums).

Finally, my band. Members of Gossips appeared this year as Sax & the Citizens. We were a quartet with Mike, Richard, Henry Rasmussen and me. Thanks to Henry for helping out given Brenton was not available – nice job done despite little rehearsal, original tunes and few charts. It was a strongly bop and swing set, opening with Moment’s notice, and with several originals by Mike and one each by Richard and me: a balled, a swinger, a bop, an Arabic tune, a latin, a ‘60s modern. I preferred our gig on Friday evening which settled in quite nicely. Our second gig was changed from Sunday to Saturday morning and for several reasons was less relaxed and less satisfying. Mike and I got in a short jam with Reuben, Max and Aidan at the Air Raid later on Saturday. Good on the Festival for that innovation. It gives a sense of involvement and mixes the players a bit and it’s a view of a musician’s real world for the punters. Good idea. Sax & the Citizens were Mike Dooley (piano), Richard Manderson (saxes), Henry Manderson (drums) and Eric Pozza (bass).

I saw one of two other bands in passing and missed many others. But you should always save something for next time. Thus I saw it: an entertaining weekend and an update on the Jazz School. Moruya 2011.

Turossing it (Moruya 2011/6)

2011-10-25T22:19:00.006+11:00

Take them anywhere

2011-10-23T14:59:00.003+11:00

Ed was wearing a t-shirt from Smalls Jazz Club NYC last night when he led his Edband at the Loft. It was a return for some recent masters graduates from the Jazz School, Bill and Ed, with a few mates they are playing with in Sydney, Casey Golden and George Nickolopolous. We got standards and some tunes from some current NYC heavies, but this was not just any standards gig. This was incredibly hot: both difficult and less difficult tunes, played with energy, precision and power and just a bliss to my ears. You could take them anywhere: no way would they be out of place at Smalls.

Ed was hugely energetic, but he’s also matured since leaving Canberra. He was always precise, always dynamic, always responsive to the guys he’s playing with, but this is taken to another level. This is professional, sharp as, hugely dynamic, precise rolls that end to snaps, whole body and face responding to the music, that frequently twirled stick just evidence. Bill was quieter this day, but always precise: lovely intonation, very quick when he chooses to be although he mostly plays thinkers’ solos. Reliably rhythmic in support and with a wonderful tone from top-end clarity without scratchiness or honk. Casey plays piano and that’s a favourite of mine especially on a decent acoustic grand piano. He played some lovely, clear, fast bebop lines but also atonal patterns, and he played with time, variously with anticipation and delays and a frequent disregard of the barlines. There was a nice sense of variation and development in his solos, building, moving, changing harmonically and melodically inventive. Guitarist George was a different animal. He sat easily, often not playing, behind other solos and played melody with disarming simplicity and restraint, but his solos were urgent, fast from the top, berretta-rapid lines. His earlier solos were of a more obvious harmony, but they developed through sequences that moved high over the tunes’ structure and he surprised me later with some touches that were harmonically and rhythmically free. The sound was fat and deep with electric thud and an edge of echo and the effect was hot and sweaty.

So I liked the band. And the tunes. Dolphin dance started the night with the most delightful sparseness that was touched with occasional walking swing. It’s you or noone was a hard hitting workout. Isfahan was a ballad with understated guitar melody over colours from piano and brushes. Then My favourite things reminiscing of Coltrane and a pop song, Mad world, which was nice and chordally simple (Bill got a rest). The second set was more adventurous. Chick Corea’s fabulous Matrix was wonderfully tight and alive with its contorted logic. With its urgent and bent head, I‘d forgotten that it’s just a blues. Then two tunes by Ari Hoenig: The Painter and an arrangement in changing times of Coltrane’s Moments notice, mostly in 7/8 but also 5/4. These were difficult tunes, and the playing was hot and so tight. Then Albermarle by NYC saxist Will Vincent. It’s 6/8 with defined rhythmic arpeggiated bass and Bill was reading and obviously concentrating here. Then to finish, what else but All the things you are, but in cycling time signatures: 7/8, 5/4, maybe 4/4, maybe others.

This was one to lie back and take in as the storm passes over you: energy and precision in equal and generous parts. Bill and Ed blew in from Sydney to play for old mates and it was a blowout. Welcome in the best clubs. Ed Rodrigues (drums) led his quartet, EdBand, with Bill Williams (bass), Casey Golden (piano) and George Nickolopolous (guitar).

An ageing romcom

2011-10-16T21:41:00.001+11:00

It’s a story that is raising chatter about the ageing boomers: love, sex, relationships and affairs in the twilight years. Lawrie & Shirley: a poem, a move, a play is Geoff Page’s take on this thorny topic as a romantic comedy. Geoff wrote it as a verse novel (originally subtitled a move in verse) with parallel filmic visual imagery and lines that sit with gentle poetic rhythm and easy rhymes. Lines and easy rhymes. I didn’t count the accents, but it was unobtrusive and easy to listen to as a lengthy monologue.

This is the story of Lawrie and Shirley. Lawrie is 81 and a lifelong ladies’ man; Shirley is 70 and intends to change his ways. He likes high baroque; she likes Mantovani. They embark on a loving relationship late in life, fresh and young despite their years, with a final dreamt-of tour of the sights of Europe. But it’s not an easy path. Their kids, obviously not shared, agree on one thing: they don’t want this and they do want the inheritance. They make a tacky trio: Lawrie’s son Bennie, lifelong drinker, and Shirley’s two daughters, Sarah and Jane, both wealthy and greedy. Jane is taken for the ride; Bennie is crude but weak; Sarah is the particularly unpleasant one. Perhaps unexpectedly, Sarah’s grammar-educated teenage boys are intrigued and positive. It all has to come to an end, and it does with Lawrie’s heart attack and subsequent accident that kills him and leaves Shirley the survivor. The final comeuppance is Lawrie’s will, read to an unhappy family. It’s generous to Sarah’s understanding children and surprisingly to Bennie’s drinking habit and to the much loved Shirley, of course.

It’s a difficult theme for many people and thus a test. It’s also one we may face as children or as ourselves soon enough. Geoff presents it with humour and honesty and empathy and we enjoy the happy ride and despair of the self-seeking children. We forget the monologue and the rhythmic couplets, whatever however the meter is parsed. It’s a lovely story and it’s presented with joy and understanding and some mischief by Chrissie Shaw with the accompaniment of the solo violin / viola of Ewan Foster. And it’s another play set in our local Canberra. Thanks Geoff.

Geoff Page (author) wrote the verse novel, Lawrie & Shirley. Chrissie Shaw (actor) performed it as a monologue with accompaniment by Ewan Foster (violin, viola) at Street Theatre 2.

Poet Stephen Edgar launches Geoff Page's Lawrie & Shirley

The enemy and the opposition

2011-10-16T09:32:00.007+11:00

The play was The MP. and it was written in and about Canberra under a commission from the Street Theatre with advice from a string of names and unnamed (mostly female) politicians and journalists, so it was local and true to place and manners. And there’s something different about a Federal political culture. I doubt Canberra is like Sydney’s Bearpit. This is a culture that pulsates with the sitting sessions, that lives hard and fast, away from home and family, for the odd days and weeks of sitting sessions, like an ever repeating conference. The wrangling over dinner in Lyneham was there and the leaks in the Sculpture Garden, but also the presence of family and public and “real life” in the electoral office. It’s a common misconception that people and life outside Canberra are “real life” but it’s not true. The life of Parliament House is real – terrifyingly so, as we saw here – but it’s the life of power and decision and it’s played by its own, sometimes playful, sometimes brutal, but always knowing and power-aware rules.

As was never said but obviously implied, this was the story of a long-term, female opposition backbencher grappling with issues of disability in the time of a female PM, so it’s set now. But the themes are for all time: the role of women; power; family commitment and public duty; idealism vs practicalism. MP Ava Turner hires a confident new advisor, Nadia. The same day, a constituent couple visits asking for help to investigate the suicide of their 25-year old daughter with Acquired Brain Injury who had been raped and then suicided in a nursing home. Unknown to audience and characters, Ava has a disabled son who is also in care. She takes on the case as a crusade, there are public service leaks, journalist scoops, appearances on Q&A, various ministerial minder threats and offers, lover’s concerns and other constituent visits. In the end, she fails with a private member’s motion that isn’t seconded and considers crossing the floor if the Government includes her concerns in an upcoming bill. I won’t tell how it ends. Suffice to say, some characters thought she was a wily old politician who’d planned it all along, but it seemed to me a bit of luck that fell right. It was a long and involved play and I and others missed spots of dialogue, but it was well presented and interesting and topical. I pondered the bare stage setting with stacks of white plates and decided the symbolism of smashing plates at times of tension was satisfying. I was amused by Andrea Close who played four parts, including Ava’s old nurse mate Bonnie, now a mature and astute public servant. I particularly laughed at a scene where the Ava’s doctor lover plays the ministerial advisor at his own game. Soren Jensen’s performance as Cliff, Ava’s disabled son, was emotionally wrenching and his minder character, Drew, was chilling. Leah Baulch had a key part as Nadia and she was good, although I wasn’t always convinced by the character. Geraldine Turner was Ava, and she was eminently believable and had me thinking of the importance and yet impotence of the backbencher. We are lucky to have a decently functioning politics (as was observed in one scene) even if we don’t recognise it (as was also observed). Canberra was built for federal politics, and all Canberrans are aware of it even if they are not all centrally involved in it. The MP. seemed a true evocation of the life of Parliament House, the daily grind and manipulations, the public face and private fatigue, the public denigration and sheer politics, but also the personal commitment, the acquiescence and occasional bravery of this world. I enjoyed it immensely.

Geraldine Turner was Ava Turner MP. Leah Baulch was Nadia, and Andrea Close, Stephen Barker and Soren Jensen played other parts. Caroline Stacey directed and Alana Valentine wrote The MP. and it was commissioned by and premiered at the Street Theatre.

Review by John Uhr, Centre for Study of Aust'n Politics, ANU

Stoic and unrelenting

2011-10-14T21:38:00.003+11:00

My week of free improvisation continued with a concert of Showa44, again at Smith’s. Showa44 is a renowned outfit with two highly regarded players: guitarist Carl Dewhurst and drummer Simon Barker. Simon is known for his studies of Korean percussion (there’s even a film made about this) so I wasn’t surprised to find Korean vocalist Bae Il-Dong sitting in, and another Korean, percussionist and WonkWang University Professor Dong-Won Kim, voicing just a bit of harmony. A larger band based around Simon and his Korean colleagues is about to tour the Middle East of coming months and we got to see a small part of this. And what a fabulously involving performance it was. I’ve heard Japanese drumming before, but not Korean, and it’s powerful and relentless. Simon suggested Korean drumming is even more unremitting: he mentioned performances lasting 3-days. Even I could pick elements of this in Simon’s playing: the matched grips, the resonant chimes, the delicate cymbals, the sustained but moving soundscapes, the persistent, vigorous, elemental matched sticks on skins, the sheer volume. Carl was an easy partner. I overheard Simon agreeing with a listener that they sought resonances between guitar and drums. I hadn’t particularly noticed that, at least not real audio-resonances, although there were obvious connections in the playing. I’d heard guitar as a soundbox, tapped, prodded, hammered, slided, amplified, vibratoed and tremoloed, echoed and distorted and modified to create repeating patterns of sound and little tonality, although with just a few occasions of chord shapes or some delicious wind-chime-sounding lines of arbitrary rhythm but repeating pitch. There were times I heard Asian gardens in all this: dripping water and rustling leaves. There were also storms of power and overwhelming, sustained intensity, but intensity with discipline and rigour and Stoic dignity. Then, occasionally, from the quiet, or leading or confronting the volume, came vocals with microtonal scales at intervals oddly chosen against the guitar’s tonal centre, at least for a Western ear, and screams and strong vibratos and gurgles and wide, open-mouthed vocalisations from deep within the body. Rich and expressive and elemental, and very, very different from Western-trained voices.

Thus it went for the first set of 60 minutes, and another of 50 minutes after the break. Two long and unnamed and presumably free improvisations (although I thought I heard what must have been a Korean song in there once). Two sets of variation, of relentless intensity power and delicate repose, of indefinite tonality and detailed Asian microtones. I, for one, was thrilled.

Showa44 are Simon Barker (drums, percussion) and Carl Dewhurst (guitars, effects). They were joined by Bae Il-Dong (vocals) and for just a touch of harmonies by Dong-Won Kim (vocals).

Freedom

2011-10-12T21:27:00.002+11:00

Freedom is strange beast. It’s a motherhood good but a political football as Liberty: just think “freedom from” and “freedom to”. But in music, it’s a challenge to my traditional ears but a quizzical and refreshing opening to new sounds and techniques. I guess it’s under Free that you’d place Verschrankung Duo and Julian Day’s A.I.R. Certainly they were advertised under the banner of Free Improvisation and Experimental Music Resource. Experimental may be the better name. Why?

Surely the techniques of Verschrankung Duo are free. There’s no traditional tonality or harmony or chart or melody or rhythm. I spoke to Reuben after, and the word he most used was texture. Seeking aural soundscapes of beauty with two instruments that intermingle as sounds, rather than within formal structures. Seeking techniques to fill space with this interaction. But interestingly, this is not an individualist pursuit. Richard introduced the duo with a translation of “verschrankung”. It’s German for entanglement, so this is not libertarian but socialised. Two instruments seeking close relationship in aural space. Maybe I take the political parallels too far (especially given that music is the most abstract of the arts), but I find my mind wondering on issues when listening to these open and searching sound explorations. I like that, and it’s seldom something that I do listening for more traditional and formalised musics. I include most jazz in this group, with its western concepts of rhythm, melody and harmony, even if it goes dissident with improvisation, although free jazz crosses over. This experimental music is a non-intellectualised form that gets me thinking and that intrigues me. V Duo played three pieces. The first two were openly textural. I noted circular breathing in one or perhaps two tunes; lots of slaps and pops and breathing rather than forming notes, and the use of a drum as a resonating membrane. I liked Reuben’s tonality when he dropped into some delicious, murmuring bop lines, and Richard even implied chords with a baritone sax ostinato in the third tune. There’s wasn’t much tonality, but it was nice when it appeared, and the soundscapes were intricate and quite beautiful for the rest of the time.

The approach was different but the effect was similar when Julian Day performed his piece labelled A.I.R. (An Infinity Room). This was a barrage of amplified, organ-like keyboard tones with moving harmonies and resonating beats that filled the space and moved with performance and place. Again, I found my mind wondering, so the effect, at least on me, was the same. I found the volume satisfying and necessary for the style, but also tiring and perhaps damaging in its relentlessness. But the rhythmic beats that grew from two small keyboards set with the same vibrato organ tone and played with bolts weighing on keys, six bolts per keyboard for a pairing of six-part harmony, was a killer: overwhelming and powerful but quite beautiful. Being contemporary, it was also environmental in its response to space (beats and balance changed as I moved my head and presumably would change more if you walked around the room) and historically aware in its response to Western harmony and its view to future musical structuring. I’m sure it was formal rather than free: this was composed. Julian slowly moved bolts to depress keys on each keyboard, moving one after another so the two keyboards lost and returned to unison, all under some formal, mathematical rules that structured the composition but in living response to the repetitious beating groove. This was loud and mesmeric and all-encompassing: at odds with the approach of Richard and Reuben, but alike in outcome.

The Verschrankung Duo comprised Richard Johnson (soprano sax, baritone sax, drum) and Reuben Lewis (trumpet). Julian Day (keyboards, bolts) performed A.I.R. (An Infinity Room). Both performed at a night of experimental music at Smith’s Alternative Bookshop.

Double bass

2011-10-10T14:42:00.002+11:00

It wasn’t the double basses at John Mackey’s gig that attracted me, but it did interest me. There have been experiments before with two basses, or two drummers; Ornette even had two bands. In the end, there were three basses, although only two ever played together at one time: Jonathan Zwartz and Rohan Dasika played together, and Max Alduca took the solo bass chair on one tune.

This was not a highly organised or charted gig. It was unrehearsed and more a hot session with some great players performing John’s standard sax repertoire. John likes it this way and it went down a treat. Long blows on just six tunes over two sets: Blue 7, Jonathan’s “Something more ambient” jam, Miss Jones, Footprints>Giant steps, Oleo and Take the Coltrane. Standard modern sax workouts from around the ‘50s and Jonathan’s ambient groove insert. But what playing! These are amongst the top local players, and it showed. John shredding tenor harmonies and Matt contorting lines on the alto. Andy moving through chords with a post-bop sensibility and fluency. Mark pushing with steady brushes and sticks on a woody-sounding kit and occasionally loosening up for a short solos. Rohan and Jonathan listening, and avoiding each other’s domain: high repeating lines against walks, or bowed solos against grooves or just dropping out for uninterrupted single bass lines. I found the basses did merge a little. It’s low down there, and the tones aren’t as identifiable as two horns together or even two pianos. Rohan said before the gig that he would concentrate on “keeping out of the way” and they were obviously both doing that. But what playing. Rohan was great and impressed with classically trained precision and that bowing skill. Jonathan’s just a star. He’s a big man who looks comfortable and plays with eminent solidity and strength on the big bass, with a massive tone and a bell-like clarity of intent. His solo to end the night just floored me.

So, it was a loose night, but with some excellent playing that would go down anywhere. In the Loft, in Canberra, for an audience of a few dozen afficionadoes. What skills and art this is. A blowout. John Mackey (tenor) led a sextet with Matt Handel (alto), Andy Butler (piano), Jonathan Zwartz (bass), Rohan Dasika (bass) and Mark Sutton (drums). Max Alduca (bass) replaced Jonathan and Rohan for Oleo.

Jamming worldwide

2011-10-09T21:26:00.002+11:00

I was not the only person who commented that these jams are great fun, even if not too frequent. This one was a repeat at the Hippo, with an introductory set and support by Luke Sweeting’s Front and Siders. This was a shockingly capable display of composition and musicianship and a challenge for the improvisers waiting to have a play, but a jam is a loose and extroverted thing and this is a friendly group so it all went well with some seriousness but also good will.

Firstly, the Front and Siders. They started with Sam River’s beautiful Beatrice, but then it was all original compositions, I think all by Luke. The tunes were complex, varied, often charted for unison lines of bass and piano left hand, or piano and guitar (this combination sounded quite fusion-ish, I thought), inventive piano over left hand pedals, nice rich ostinatos behind drums solos or mesmeric interludes and long crescendos. There was intensity and suspense. There were quiet, reflective times where the band sat playing minimally and held tension. I particularly noticed how effectively they could sit on a groove that was waiting to lift. But there were also explosions of energy, especially from Daniel on guitar, with fat, electric-flat tone and screaming high notes and hard-strummed chords and chromatic sequences and excitable rises and emotional denouements. James responded with solos that spoke more gently including one with German bow. Luke was masterful on complex harmonies and substitutions and the less common scales. Pianos can do this and Luke is doing it great justice with complexity but also with and easy acceptability despite the challenging tonalities and rhythms. Aidan was not intrusive, but free flowing and precise and so easy to listen to. It was a wonderfully impressive set and a great way to return to Canberra jazz after an NYC sojourn. This is sophisticated and satisfying music at a high level. The Front and Siders were Luke Sweeting (piano), Daniel Kim (guitar), James Luke (bass) and Aidan Lowe (drums).

So that was the prequel for a night of jamming. It was fun. Luke was the one pianist so worked hard, but there were several horns, guitars, bassists, drummers, so they were shared around. I sat in for two tunes: a Bb blues and Alone together. Otherwise, it was bebop, All the things you are and the like: common jam tunes, but nicely played with seriousness but also joy. It was a smaller group in attendance, and perhaps more relaxed for it. Looking forward to more.

Finally

2011-09-29T21:52:00.002+10:00

I have a history of missing bassist Tamara Murphy so I’m relieved to have finally caught her but it was a close thing. Tamara was here again with the Fran Swinn Trio at Hippo on a tour to launch their new CD. Even this time I only managed to get there for their final set after another engagement. I’d missed this trio with a circus act a few months before and Tamara a string of times in the past. Then when I was recently at the David Gage bass shop in NYC, I mentioned Australia and they volunteered Tamara Murphy, which impressed me. So finally I catch up.

This trio plays an impressionistic music of varied times and angular melodies and with that indefinite pitch that I hear in some modern jazz guitar. The underlying harmonies often sound of limited chords and the bass is more riffish than chordal. Fran’s guitar solos break from this with modern substitutions, a general freedom of harmony and sequences that move over symmetrical changes and into and out of dissonance using a sharp, trebly tone with echo effects and finger picking along with plectrum. I thought of Scofield and Fran mentioned Metheny and Frisell. Tamara took frequent solos which were more consonant and with a lovely sense of intervallic melody, although I did wonder at the exotic scales she was playing (this was not obvious major tonality). These were clearly double-bass solos of intellect and movement and with a fair touch of speed and with a unusual double-speed note pairs out of little two-finger fills. Tamara was playing on a borrowed gut-strung bass. I‘m not sure of her normal instrument and its stringing, but it would be interesting to see what changes this different bass has wrought in her playing. Ben’s drumming initially seemed sparse and truncated and soft (question my feminist credentials, but for the first solo I thought of a local lack of testosterone) but that was just the first solo I heard. Later, there were solos of volume and rolls and busy-ness, and these solos were frequent and surprisingly short (which I felt that suited the band) and of a modern approach that felt to me like storytelling.

The tunes were presumably originals, although I thought Fran said we’d recognise the last tune of the night (I didn’t). I counted 7s and a 5/4 ballad and had difficulty counting some others so I guessed odd counts like 13s or 15s. The melodies were jagged and unexpected to my ear, but attractive too. The form was mostly standard head-solos-head, but there was variation, and the solos were not particularly different from the head in structure or conception, so there was a consistency within and between tunes which seems to me a mark of impressionism. It all makes for an interesting palette and a desire on my part to revisit people like Metheny and Meldau and their impressionistic ilk.

Fran Swinn (guitar) led a trio with Tamara Murphy (bass) and Ben Hendry (drums).

Doc Webster reminisces

2011-09-20T23:23:00.001+10:00

Bill ”Doc” Webster was a find. He leads a band that he calls Jazz Nostalgia but it deserves weightier significance. Doc gives us authentic jazz history: from talking through the lyrics and their meanings and from stories around the songwriters and original performers. So when he plays the tunes they take on this extra weightiness and purpose amidst their joyous and entertaining performance. For Doc has a decent voice that he uses very well with his nicely warbling vibratos that end the lines and the gravelly Louis voice that he toys with and the nicely stretched high notes that he reaches with a pleasant strain, all matching with a tenor sax that he wields with a bluesy authority.

This night we heard of Louis Jordan and Saturday Night Fish Fries and raids by cops. Also Fats Waller and the link between music publication and the song What did I do to be so black and blue and the reason why If you’re a viper is so funny. Then on to crooners and Nat King Cole and Brian Eckstein and My foolish heart and Ray Charles and I got a woman out of the Negro spiritual, There’s a man going ‘round, countin’ names. Then Cole Porter and Anything goes and Route 66 and even Girl from Ipanema in a strange change from black American music.

This was all of an education, a humour routine and some nicely laid back music and singing. A great night and a memorable experience. Memorable also because I got to sit in, so my first West Coast performance, playing What’s new in Eb. Thanks to Doc for the offer and to bassist Leslie for the bass loan. And cheers to Sarah who I chatted to for the night. Bill ‘Doc’ Webster (voice, tenor) led Jazz Nostalgia with Vaughan Johnson (piano), Leslie Thorne (bass) and Doug Kassell (drums) at a very busy Les Joulins Jazz Bistro, San Francisco.

Marketeers

2011-09-19T23:16:00.002+10:00

It was a sunny day and we were at San Francisco’s Farmers’ Market which is held three days a week at the Ferry building. This is both terribly touristy and very local. It was madly busy, with tons of stalls, some truly excellent food stock and unusual varieties, a mélange of people, some great views (Alcatraz, Oakland Bay Bridge and the Golden Gate just around the corner) and buskers.

Don Cunningham is a veteran clarinetist with a generous repertoire, a long history of playing since the ‘40s, a fine presentation, a frequent smile and an admirably witty turn of phrase. These were joyous standards performed with mirth and joy for a bright sunny day.

Teodross Avery was a recent returnee to his homeplace in the West after 15 years in NYC. This was a very different presence. Cool and capable soprano sax playing over accompaniment tapes for lithe popular tunes like Sade and Sting.

Billy Phiadelphia was actually playing at a restaurant at 1 Market Street, just across the road. Billy Philly is a piano man with that theatre-cum-standards repertoire, but also with a big link to Australian culture: he’d backed Dame Edna Everidge on gig here in San Fran for 5-months in 1999. What don’t we have in common? I’ve caught gladioli! We loved the tunes, were surprised to discover the similarity of Peter Allen’s I still call Australia home and New York state of mind (I prefer the latter), but we were taken when he played The Beatles’ Here, there and everywhere. We are suckers for the Beatles, and this is a richly sentimental and superbly written little tune that is a relatively seldom played. And what’s a piano man for if not for sentiment?

Cedar

2011-09-19T20:29:00.000+10:00

I was excited to see that Cedar Walton was in town while we were there, playing a four night stand with his trio at the Jazz Showcase. The Jazz Showcase is another of those fabulous venues with posters for the greats over many years back to the early ‘50s, although it’s now in a new location. The current location is big and dark with a big stage, a Steinway, and a decent PA, so very presentable, although I didn’t manage to break through the jazz-cool here.

Cedar was a frequent pianist in records I heard in the ‘70s so a must see and he was just as I expected. Heavily bluesy, hard swinging, but with an easy dissonance that none-the-less remains in the main stream. This was sturdy and solid but easily expressive playing, with an intriguing selection of standards and presumably originals and with clever arrangements. Either they are well rehearsed or frequently gigged, but this band played taut arrangements, hits, starts, stops, dynamics with relaxed ease and ever-present energy and hard swing. The audience was small and I felt the first set was the better with the bigger attendance. They played two medleys, by Billy Strayhorn and Monk, a string of originals, Stevie Wonder and JJ Johnson’s beautiful Lament. Luscious ballads, frequent changes from 2 to four to latins to walks, and lots of sharp soloing, including from east coast bassist David Williams and Chicago drummer George Fludas. A very enjoyable night of capable hard swing and nifty arranging. Cedar Walton (piano) played with David Williams (bass) and George Fludas (drums) at the Jazz Showcase in Chicago.

Chicago locals

2011-09-19T02:55:00.002+10:00

Chicago was an unexpected change of plans, but the jazz community is small and fairly easy to find so I caught two local bans: the Harold Washington College Faculty band and Mike Smith Quartet. Both were playing at Andy’s, one of a few nightly jazz clubs in Chicago, and obviously one that’s well known. As is the way in these parts, there are photos and posters on the wall of famous names who’ve played there. And they are the most famous.

The Harold Washington College Faculty Band played standards with the intelligent and developed skills that are evident in such trained players. The tunes were the old favourites: Stella, What is this thing called love, Anthropology, In your own sweet way, Triste and the like. All played with considerable subtlety and inventiveness. I particularly enjoyed Wayne’s Shorter’s Fee Fi Fo Fum given it’s such a different tune from the others. I also particularly enjoyed Matt Shevitz’s tenor for his smooth and purposeful playing including when he dropped into very lengthy passages of 16th notes. Scott Hesse dropped rich implications with his chordal accompaniment and soloed clean and fast although I didn’t feel with the melodic clarity of Matt. But guitar is like that. Bassist Cory Biggerstaff and drummer Todd Howell were steady and strong; Cory was nicely tuneful and unforced in soloing, and I thought Todd was unusually flowing in style. And I noticed lots of ending vamps. The Harold Washington Collect Faculty Band comprised Matt Shevitz (tenor), Scott Hesse (guitar), Cory Biggerstaff (bass) and Todd Howell (drums).

Mike Smith played the later sets and this was a very different conception. He was still playing standards, although a more a adventurous selection with a bop cum hard-bop theme. This was hotter, bluesier, dirtier, more overtly energetic if less inventive and an enticing presentation with good audience communication. These are a regular working band featuring a fluent alto with a jazz-cool presence out front of a steady professional rhythm section. Not so much challenging as bluesily correct. For blues, write hard-bop of Lee Morgan and Tadd Dameron as well as the standards and rhythm changes. Mike Smith (alto) led a quartet with Jordan Baskin (piano), Jake Vinsell (bass) and Brian Ritter (drums).

I shouldn’t forget street musician Ron Shelton who I met on the way to Andy’s that night. He’s been playing on the streets for seven years with his hardy Selmer Mk VII. Nice bloke, too. Nice to meet you, Ron.

Museums

2011-09-19T00:15:00.004+10:00

We also have a great love of museums and this trip was an opportunity to visit a few of the world’s great collections. Nothing was much planned and there was limited time and some museums unexpectedly disappointed while others were stunning bliss to walk through. In Washington DC, I was bowled over by the National Gallery of Art and the Air and Space Museum and I loved the quirky little Folger Shakespeare Library with its world’s largest collection of First folios (4 on display on the day). The National had very good collections of mediaeval/enlightenment European paintings and modern portraiture. In the foyer alone of the Air and Space museum were John Glenn’s Mercury capsule, the Gemini capsule used for the first space walk, the Apollo 11 command module, the first private spacecraft, Goddard’s pioneering rocketry and much more. And you touch a bit of moon rock. Stunning. You can touch Mars rock in the Natural History Museum. I was disappointed by the American History Museum and the American Indian Museum was an unusual offering that was enlightening through a unique approach.

NYC was just MOMA and the Met, although there was so much more. MOMA (Museum of Modern Art) was stunning, of course, with famed pieces around each corner, sculptures that seem to recur (how often have I seen one or more burghers of Calais?) and a fascinating temporary exhibit on interfaces and design. The Met (Metropolitan Museum of Art) was just a day lost in bliss. Incredible collections that were as much archeological as artistic. It means nothing to say I was stunned by the Egyptian, Roman, Greek and Mediaeval collections. The American collections, the Art Deco, the Middle East were less known to me but wonderful. A feature are the many rooms that have been purchased and rebuilt here: two from Pompeii, from Florence and Gubbio, Frank Lloyd Wright, many others, and a whole Egyptian temple that was saved from the Aswan Dam and gifted to the US. We spent ~8 hours and just touched the surface of this superbly presented and incredibly rich collection.

We were lucky to catch a string quartet playing at a cafe in the Met. It was led by Beryl Diamond Chacon (violin) with Nelson Palgett (piano), Regis Iandiorio (violin) and Makisol Espada (cello). We heard the first set of waltzes and pleasantries, although there were some less common pieces there: J Strauss but also Friml and DeLibes. Beryl was offering more substantial music later but the collections called. These were capable players. Beryl spoke lightly of studying at Julliard years before, and her offsiders were no slouches. Lovely music in a stunning environment.

And the architecture is another beauty. Just one pic of two favourite buildings in NYC: the American Radiator Building and the canonical Empire State Building.

This is CJBlog post no. 700.

Katie Noonan does string theory

2011-09-18T09:59:00.001+10:00

Text by Brenton Holmes

Only Katie Noonan could deliver as first course to her full-house audience an earnest young string quartet playing edgy modern art music. But it worked beautifully. The Sydney Symphony Fellowship Quartet (Freya Franzen and Monique Irik –violins; Tara Houghton –viola; Adam Szabo-cello) set the space vibrating with two of the Three Idylls (1906) by Frank Bridge before launching into String Quartet No.4 (2003) by the Latvian composer and eco-warrior Peteris Vasks. Written for the famed Kronos Quartet, the SSFSQ delivered a similar punch in a work that blended Stravinsky’s rhythmic grunt with the ferocious tonalities of Shostakovich’s late quartets.

One minor gripe. The individual instruments were fitted with the wonderful DPA clip-on condenser mics, but with the volume pumped up each instrument seemed hyper-exposed, and we lost the more blended quality that gives a string quartet its trademark unified voice.

The main event showcased Elixir’s new album First Seed Ripening, most of which comprises settings of poems by the Australian poet Tom Shapcott. The songs had been conjured into existence in the unhurried atmosphere of Arthur Boyd’s artists’ retreat Bundanon. The album uses strings to fine effect. The lyricism of Magnusson’s guitar and Hurren’s sax is the sweet, warm solder that fuses the elements together.

Katie opened the Canberra concert with the title track First Seed Ripening. Guitar and voice strolled in, Hurren prodded gently and the quartet glowed behind them. Noonan fluttered and glided around Magnusson’s simply plucked lines. Hurren slipped in a mellow solo before Magnusson joined him in what was reminiscent of a Golla and Burrows outing. The aperitif went down well.

My Skin is a Glove came next, with arranger Steve Newcombe giving the cello a hauntingly beautiful opening, the full quartet nestling in behind a tender-voiced Noonan, with a nicely understated guitar from Magnusson. The end hovered. The audience paused, rapt.

Katie then invited us to imagine tropical semi-nudity and other delights as she introduced another Tom Shapcott work, Stuff of Myths Magnusson had fun with his digitally-enhanced guitar intro before settling into a jaunty Airto Moreira feel. Noonan splashed happily in the shallows. Husband Zac’s sax joined her for some playful parallel precision work and we all came away suitably tanned.

Next came Pierrot, a Melbourne-tinged tribute to the sad clown, with an especially fine interplay between all the instruments, Magnusson’s plucking hinting at Ry Cooder. Noonan’s remarkable vocal abilities serve her well on songs like this. It is an instrument over which she exercises exquisitely subtle control.

Sleep Soundly, Peacefully was the song Katie and Zac wrote together as they anticipated parenthood for the first time. Magnusson’s intro drew the song perfectly into its lullaby mode. The room became a poetry reading. Katie Noonan can pluck a high note from anywhere and let it hang, only to lay it down gently as she would her baby’s head.

Time to switch to Radiohead In Limbo, and Elixir gave it a suitably FX treatment, looping Katie’s voice and Steve’s guitar. There was a touch of coloratura in the Noonan stratosphere, the crowd whooped its pleasure, and a clapping patron with glowing forearms caught some onstage attention.

Shapcott again manifested slightly tropical in Elixir’s efforts with Last Night’s Comfort. The jaunty Caribbean feel returned. Katie and Steve delivered some delicious duets.

Next came Tip of Memory from Elixir’s self-titled 2003 album. Essentially a waltz, and here in an arrangement by Paul Grabowsky, it was one of the evening’s highlights. Think of George Martin’s effort on Eleanor Rigby and you’ll catch the quality of Grabowsky’s work. The cello lines gave Adam Szabo a chance to shine.

Noonan made Joni Mitchell’s My Old Man her very own. Saying cheekily that she “doesn’t do covers … I prefer to think of them as tributes”, Katie delivered a tribute that Joni would have been proud of.

Three fine songs rounded out the concert. Hemispheres had the string quartet open à la Appalachian Spring, slipping neatly into Magnusson’s guitar; Nocturne satisfied in every respect; and Snapshot gave Katie Noonan the chance to remind us of just how remarkable the voice is that a jammed-packed audience had flocked to hear at the Street Theatre.

The blessing that is Elixir will be visited upon audiences around the country through September and October: Melbourne 17 September; Mullumbimby 23 September; Adelaide 7 October; Perth 8&9 October; Hobart 13 October; Launceston 14 October.

Last night

2011-09-18T02:09:00.003+10:00

It was my last night in NYC and there were too many choices. I chose Henry Threadgill giving a workshop at the Jazz Gallery. The session went for 3 hours, more lecture than conversation. I think this is a fair summary of his argument (note that it mainly concerned composition). You need more “information” (meaning, learn everything you can including all musical styles; otherwise meaning relationships between notes, chords, rhythms of what you are writing). Move things around to make more information (eg, stack or invert information). When composing, write one or two lines and keep writing. Get the choreography right (eg, piano fingering, drum movements). Composition is about organization: it has to go somewhere and be “cognisant” (sic). Current jazz education is poor: you can be given lots of theory but not know what to do with it; many technicians sound the same. Keep developing (getting more information). Music can be art or entertainment but they don’t mix. Art is demanding to experience and a demanding lifestyle. Do things without thinking too much, but stop and investigate any problems in detail. He’s obviously a committed musician with worthy concerns and some real capability in composition but I was disappointed that the session didn’t seem to click for me. It was too metaphorical for my literal and rationalist mindset, I guess. I expect it would have interested me more with some practical work to consider and/or some more precise questions from the audience. I was fascinated to hear him on piano before and for a time during the session. You could virtually hear his creation process as he explored sounds of passages and relationships. I didn’t want to interrupt the session, so no pics in deference to Henry and others.

More jammin’

2011-09-18T01:59:00.003+10:00

I saw a description of Smalls as a great and involving club, but one that you can’t make a living playing at. I doubt it’s an MBA-grade business model but it’s got a great community with jams that trail into the night. I certainly didn’t outlast this one. There are some decent players visiting, some very good. I met Sagit Zilberman who’s an alto saxist and graduate of Berklee, but there are tons of others hanging out for a jam at Smalls and a number of other local bars. You can see the anticipation on their faces. Nerve-wracking but great fun. Here are some pics, although mostly without names.

An embarrassment of riches

2011-09-18T01:55:00.001+10:00

Jazz is everywhere around me here. A large part is being in Greenwich Village; some part is in the time of year, the nice weather and the holidays and even the 9/11 commemorations. Here are some snippets of other bands I’ve come across.

Ehud Asherie led a trio at Smalls late one night. This was a standards outing of old school friends who never did actually form that band. Nightingale in Berkeley Square and tunes by Sinatra, Gershwin and Dizzy. I found Ehud’s piano choppy and well behind the beat and his rhythm section mates easy and steady. Bassist Neal Miner plays weekly with Annie Ross here in Manhattan, but that was just another one I didn’t get to. Ehud Asherie (piano) played with Neal Miner (bass) and Jason Brown (drums) at Smalls.

Josh Evans led a quartet that was the host band for a jam late one night at Smalls. I was particularly taken to hear the lovely Goodbye by Gordon Jenkins which I know it from Charlie Haden’s Quartet West (given some prompting). Also blues and originals and a Walter Booker hard-bop tune. Josh had a clear influence from Miles. I found Rick Germanson’s piano very inventive and very easily dissonant and Tyler Mitchell’s bass very ready to enter long pedals. Nice band. Josh Evans (trumpet) led a quartet with Rick Germanson (piano), Tyler Mitchell (bass) and Jerome Jennings (drums).

We were staying at West 4th Street, between Sixth and Seventh Avenues. It’s a lively and noisy street and has turned out to be incredibly central to lots of jazz. Taking different corners on Seventh Ave in recent days, I’ve discovered another three jazz venues. One was the Garage. It’s more restaurant than jazz club, but the Lou Caputo Quartet playing standards for a tourist crowd. We caught them in the first set, and perhaps too early in the day. They were livening up nicely in the second set, but we had to go. I was interested that a name from my old jazz record collection was playing, Calvin Hill, who’s played with Max Roach, McCoy Tyner and Pharaoh Sanders amongst many others. Another hugely solid bassist with firm hands and easy presence. Lou Caputo (flute, clarinet, saxes) played with Don Stein (piano), Calvin Hill (bass) and Randy Petschauer (drums) at The Garage.

Commemorating 9/11 Pt.1

2011-09-16T23:19:00.003+10:00

It was fortuitous, not planned, that we were in NYC for the tenth anniversary of 9/11 and it was an interesting place to be. The day itself was sunny, touristy near the site, and not particularly sombre. There were cops everywhere following a vague report of possible terrorism which didn’t come to be, but it was a truly impressive presence. And there were a series of events over the week before 9/11 that seemed the heartfelt memorials.

We attended a superb choral concert at the church of St John the Apostle on the day before 9/11. The church itself was not pretty for me, at least after visiting so many mediaeval European churches, but the sound was cathedral-like and the performers were most impressive. The combined choirs started with Song for Athene by John Tavener. This was a single drone organ note with text from Shakespeare and used in the Orthodox funeral service. It started as male chant, rose to a mixed choir with volume and power, then finished with the chant again. Very powerful, and later repeated as an encore. Then six songs by the Empire City Men’s Chorus, varying in style from traditional blues through a composed version of a letter home by a now dead US soldier from Iraq (touching to read but the text didn’t lend itself to music as did Shakespeare or Tennyson) to standard poetry put to classical song. The major work of the concert was Paul Leavitt’s Requiem performed by the NYC Master Chorale with five solo voices. PL wrote the piece in 2009 after the death of his own partner. Read more about it at the link below.

We lucked out on the afternoon of Sunday 9/11 when we passed Grace Church, an old Epicopalian (essentially Anglican high church for post-revolution Americans) church in Greenwich Village with a renowned history. They were performing Faure’s requiem. We only caught part and it was not performed with the expertise of the NYC Master chorale, but it was beautiful with many high children’s voices in a sympathetic space.

Program notes for the Paul Leavitt Requiem

Commemorating 9/11 Pt.2

2011-09-16T23:15:00.003+10:00

Continuing our religious theme, we attended a jazz mass at St John’s evangelical Lutheran Church in Christopher Street, just a block from our apartment. I remember some pretty tame rock masses from my childhood, but this was far more interesting. The band was skilled, the conception was good and the music was varied and informed. I heard Freddie Hubbard-like ’70s modal, some great funk, a Love Supreme groove, Amazing grace behind the gospel reading, Body & soul behind a memorial reading for the fallen on 9/11. This was seriously satisfying music and there was a surprise that followed. We’d left fairly quickly. We had a dinner booked, the mass had run on a bit, and I was saving Megan from another of my chatter sessions with musos. Then I got an email the next day from Andrew Swift. He’d been the drummer and had played this gig for a year. I’d missed him after the mass. Another small world experience and one I can live off for some time. So now I have the names of the band. The band’s musical director was Sharel Cassity, a very decent female alto saxist who doubles on flute. Apparently Andrew plays in her regular working band. The rest of the band were pianist Roy Assaf, singer Melanie Charles and bassist Spencer Murphy who works at Smalls some days. A flugelhorn sat in for the harmony lines on the final funky number. Europe may have its authentic church music traditions, but this is America’s. And a great sermon on forgiveness by Dr John J Scibilla which impressed our godless souls.

Finally, there were numerous small activities around NYC for the 9/11 anniversary: postcards, tiles, ribbons, displays, fire brigade reunions, but perhaps the most available was the Tribute in light which ran only overnight from evening Sunday 11 Sept to morning Monday 12 Sept. This comprises two beams that mimic the shape and orientation of the missing towers, and powered by 44 7Kwatt bulbs. This year’s low clouds left an eerie impression of smoke escaping the towers, as in the original pics. A nice gesture.

A cultural jumble

2011-09-16T22:39:00.005+10:00

I loved the Fat Cat as a venue, doubly so because I heard a lovely and talented string quartet playing to a noisy audience that was engaged in drinking and chatting and playing chess and table tennis and pool. We found a moderately comfy sofa near the musos, got some drinks and enjoyed Haydn (Divertimento in C) and Mozart (Suite in D). It’s all so, so far from the concert hall and the purity of the listener. But we imagined the musicians of centuries back would have played this dignified and courtly music to their own bars, or at least to their equivalent of cocktail parties. There was a ton of noise, but there was also a very committed sound man who got an effective sound for the quartet that made it perfectly intelligible without being intrusive, and we could laugh and chat and listen to music of delightful beauty. I believe a smile goes a long way when travelling. This is like a parallel. It’s not casting pearls before swine. Rather, this is getting on the wavelength of another cultural group and exposing great beauty. This audience gets it like most others and the quartet enjoys it. After all, they had been playing this venue every Monday evening for several years. Fat Cat is not just a noisy venue for fine music. It mostly programs jazz and late night jam sessions with many of the artist who perform at Smalls. The diminutive cover charge is the best $3 I’ve spent in NYC. We loved it. Thanks to the lovely string quartet comprising Choi Fairbanks (cello, leader), Jia Xu (a very expert violin 1), Jesse Montgomery (violin 2) and Nick Ravel (viola).

A testing outing

2011-09-13T23:13:00.006+10:00

My night at the Crosscurrent Festival with Dave Burrell and Matana Roberts’ Coin Coin was clearly the most challenging outing of my time in NYC. There’s a lot to like about this. The Crosscurrent International Contemporary Jazz Festival is a three-day event that involves visits from Italy, although I’m not sure who travelled or how the theme was created. I do know it’s an Italian connection and it’s in its third year. The venue was excellent: Le Poisson Rouge. It’s got great lighting and sound and it’s a comfortable space with a generous stage. But it’s especially interesting because it stages various arts: theatre, dance, jazz, rock, experimental music and more. Also interesting were the bands, of course. I can struggle with experimental music, but it can also be wonderfully involving and satisfying when you close your eyes and take it for the sound that it is.

Dave Burrell played the first set. This was a standard piano trio in format and at the start of each tune, you may have thought they would play pretty standard-style. The tunes started with a fairly simple and lyrical melodies, but they developed into atonal, often cacophonous, improvs by whoever took a solo. Then a sudden stop: there was no out head. These were capable musicians and you could clearly see the skills. I remained flummoxed by the style but that’s my problem not theirs. I liked this well enough but I wasn’t quite convinced. BTW, this was Dave Burrell’s 71st birthday special project. Dave Burrell (piano) played with Michael Formanek (bass) and Steve Swell (trombone).

Indicative of this venue’s variety of programming we had a poet between bands and given this is NYC this was a famed poet. Amiri Baraka (prev. LeRoi Jones) read a lengthy poem on jazz performance. I loved hearing the rhymes as they flittered through the piece and the images of jazz performers which I felt he got so right. This was very much enjoyed, even if I didn’t catch all the subtleties.

Matana Roberts led her sextet Coin Coin in the final, and my favourite, performance of the night. Matana is a capable alto saxist but is perhaps better known for her composition and better known in Europe than in her home country. She described this as a “chance strategy piece” and later named it as a mixtape. I presume the chance strategy is the compositional approach for this piece. This was a performance of a recent CD but altered in approach, with videos and headphones at some times (thus mixtape?) and overt signaling from Matana. This was not fully charted dots: my ears suggested there were lines that were written (they sometimes played unison, or played themes that were obviously related) but the performance was largely improvised. As I understood, the story was of a black slave girl several generations back in Matana’s own family. Matana played sax but also spoke and sang, often using words as sound as much as literature. “I was born in 1752” was one of the first lines, and the story was of slavery, abuse, and survival of this girl and black slaves in America. The video had frequent views of train tracks, and I wondered if this spoke of the famed Underground railroad escape route, as well as family photos and a picture of a young girl. Whatever, this was beautiful music played with skill and with a real message. Many of the methods were experimental and the improvisation was atonal, but I delighted in the themes that would show through and hold the piece together and the very beautiful use of voice by Matana. A stunning presentation and intimately purposeful piece of music. Matana Roberts (alto, composition), Daniel Levin (cello), Shoko Nagai (piano), Thomson Kneeland (bass) and Tomas Fujiwara (drums).

Hello to Martin Longley who I met at this outing. He's a jazz writer for the BBC Music website, Jazzwise magazine, the NYC Jazz Record and Coventry Telegraph newspapers and I read his recent interview with the Necks in a current local NY jazz paper. Very nice to have a chat and compare notes about matters of jazz writing, although mine is pastime rather than profession.

Gem

2011-09-13T21:49:00.004+10:00

There was joy and brilliance aplenty the other night. Geri Allen played the Village Vanguard. She’d been there for the week but this was a different and special show. When I arrived, I heard that Christian McBride was sitting in on bass for this one gig. Trumpeter Marcus Belgrave was another addition just for this night. Jeff ‘Tain’ Watts rounded out the band. What a band, and how unexpected. Marcus was an early support for Geri, so there’s a love there. But beyond that, this stage glowed with joy and was riddled with communication. From the arrival on stage, there was casual patter with audience and private smiles and chatter on the stage. Geri led - you could see that in the respectful glances - but this was a partnership, even a family, and her offsiders gave generously. There was normal, human communication with eyes searching and often locked. Certainly Geri was all eyes on the band and almost nil to keyboard, and Jeff was gazing to follow her leads. Marcus and Christian a bit less so, although they looked often enough too. But the musical communication was paramount. Geri was a master of chordal colours that could ape a solo but also lead it with harmonic movements, modal or rhythmical. This is the complexity of the spoken word and these are Shakespearean skills. She was nothing less in solos, of course. Blues with inflections and simplicity; modal with fourths and symmetrical movements that just floored me. I know it’s done, I’ve heard it on record but never live like this. Christian was rock-like solidity with huge tone and absolute steadiness and plenty of space and smiles. This is a big man playing a big instrument that he fitted. The solos were no different, just more. Melodic and appropriate and musical, but devastating and speedy across the neck, and up into the thumb positions. I wondered if some lines were humanly possible, they were so quick and so sustained. They were and he did them. Clearly work of a master with immense knowledge and easy interpretation. I must admit that the concert was too short to capture it all; I was so enraptured by Geri and Christian that I didn’t listen enough to Marcus and Jeff. Marcus Belgrave was an older man and I thought not too well, but his happiness was infectious. The night felt like a family get-together, and there were clearly old mates in the audience because they were chatting after. His trumpet and flugelhorn were post-bop expressive, I thought maybe tested by age, but there were some soulful melodies and a few explosive quick lines. Jeff ‘Tain’ was all groove but also some volume. His is not a drumming of sly infection or of sparkling rudiments. This was more earthy and thumping and on occasion very loud. Here too there’s a family story. He’s got young girl children – I’d seen him carrying one out of the Vanguard between shows – and his wife is from the Sunshine Coast. We should see him more often. All these players were open, lyrical, simple when called for, but virtuosic on call with ease and without affection. They played generously and the tunes were generously encountered, so the weren’t many. The trio started with a gentle Lucky to be me with immense space and heavy groove. Marcus joined them from the second tune, a ¾ with clinical beauty. There was a quick latin groove and Sunflower done with the subtly and expression of the Freddie Hubbard original. I’ve played this and heard this often enough, but this was another thing again. Geri led another tune with a sparse groove that Christian took up. I thought it may have been Summertime and maybe it was based on that, but it never resolved into the melody an eventually morphed into a blues. There was perhaps one other tune.

I haven’t done any of this justice. Geri’s glorious piano and Christian’s devastating bass were so special and the time so short. I needed another set at least to grow to live with these skills and to be able to give time to Tain and Marcus. It was like that: informed masters playing with ease and joy. Too good. Geri Allen (piano) played with Marcus Belgrave (trumpet, flugelhorn), Christian McBride (bass) and Jeff ‘Tain’ Watts (drums) at the Village Vanguard, NYC. Village Vanguard doesn't allow pics during the performance.

Busker bands

2011-09-13T21:43:00.001+10:00

It’s common enough to hear solo performers or duos busking but less common to hear full bands. Especially decent ones that are interesting.

We came across the Ebony Hillbillies playing in the subway one day. I’ve played Cajun and related musics in the past and it has an attraction for me. This was great hoedown music played with energy and groove and entertaining if distant presence. They were performing under a banner which suggests they were authorized and perhaps respected by the city. Whatever, they had a great crowd and were a loud and exuberant change from the stuffy and busy (and effective) subway. The Ebony Hillbillies are henrique prince (violin), Norris Bennett (banjo), David Colding (bass) and I missed the name of the drummer.

Rasheed and the Jazz Collective were playing a lovely evening in Washington Square Park. There were lots of people strolling on a reflective 9/11 Sunday and the squirrels were out busily entertaining themselves in the trees. Rasheed does a great line in double trumpets (we heard trumpet & flugelhorn) which will always go down well when busking, but which was surprisingly effective for the simple but rich harmonies he could produce. Rasheed has toured with the Sun Ra Arekstra and Cecil Taylor (everyone around here has connections). I especially liked Adam Kabak on bass, who was playing fully acoustic and did a very generous, extended solo with nice purpose. Rasheed Richard Howard (trumpet, flugelhorn) led the Jazz Collective with Adam Kabak (bass) and Dan Picton (drums) and I missed the name of the accompanying trumpeter.

Otherwise interesting was a duo of marimba and double bass that busked the subway in brightly-coloured animal costumes. It’s hot down there, so it could not have been comfortable. We were on another platform so no names and I don’t know how well this approach pays.