An Ark in a storm

The Loft is now underway for the year and I caught the Silver Spine Arkestra last night. It’s an obvious reference and tribute to Sun Ra and I locked in the date when I saw it. I found the electronica and experimentalism of the band was a reminder of Sun Ra, but his embedding in the greater jazz tradition and swing and Ellington in particular was not on show to my ears. I trust the cult-like personal demands of the original were also missing: Sun Ra was inventive but he was also a demanding and idiosyncratic leader. I’ll put it down to his background on Saturn. The SSA played two sets, each comprising a single improvisation. The first was more rhythmically and harmonically obvious. Shoeb played bass guitar here on steady quarter or eighth notes that outlined a two chord pattern. I particularly enjoyed a 2 chord bass loop that was nicely tentative and meditative and seemed to merge the bass into the group improv rather than feature it as a definer of the groove. The second was more airy, as Shoeb toyed with mixer and electronics. For me, the defining point of contact for both improvisations was Evan’s drums with his unconventional rhythmic patterns that defined feels and moved to create structure and improvisational spaces. These spaces were effectively filled by laptop-generated drones and digitally effected, refracted and refactored tones from Reuben, and long, slow contrapuntal notes or bowed sax bits from Andrew on alto. Miro provided the melody, close harmony and percussion that added detail to the whole. I heard a similarity to modal Miles of the fusion period and Miro also mentioned that. I delighted in one precisely placed trumpet harmony with Andrew’s alto that was indelibly pure. And Miro’s trumpet reappeared in processed form from Reuben’s laptop at times. He also played some fascinating African percussion instruments and whirling drones. The second improvisation featured visitor Andy on piano. This was minimalist, meditative, modulating piano taking both gentle bass and alternative rhythmical roles and using closely spaced chords with slight alterations of one note or unassertive arpeggios. Like SSA’s namesake, this is challenging and unconventional music; music for closed eyes and not for visible pleasure; music as sound that crosses into free improvisation. Nice one.

The Silver Spine Arkestra comprised Miroslav Bukovsky (trumpet, percussion), Andrew Fedorovich (alto sax), Reuben Ingall (laptop electronics), Shoeb Ahmad (bass guitar, synth) and Evan Dorrian (drums). Andy Butler (piano) sat in for the second set.

Golly Dickens

Dickens receiving his characters / William Holbrook Beard, via Wikimedia Commons

We went to Dickens’ women the other night. It’s a solo performance by Miriam Margoyles. Peter Wilkens gave it a rave review in the Canberra Times and it’s had an illustrious history, Edinburgh festival and performances around the world. Miriam performs as 20 or so women from the text of Dickens and uses it to expand on Dickens himself. I found it interesting enough although I have no particular knowledge or interest in Dickens and no special attraction to Victorian England and no obsession with BBC period dramas. She was truly excellent in portaying these women, but it was too distant and English-obsessed for me. Dickens was not such an attractive character: he treated his wife poorly, he was self-obsessed, seemed to have issues following a lower-middle class background verging on poverty, clearly modelled his characters on his acquaintances and had a thing for 17-year old girls (but then he did have a way with words). I could understand these things but not particularly empathise with him. I’m sickened by the worst of Dickensian-period economics and society but this show was more on the personal level. Little more to say, really. Maybe one for the book clubbers.

Doing service

Paul dal Broi led a trio the other night at Hippo. I seldom get to Hippo these days because I usually don’t know who’s playing, but I had a free night. It was lucky I did because it was a great night. Paul is a favourite pianist of mine. I enjoy the way he takes popular tunes and turns them into authentic jazz vehicles: he does good service to a tune. I admire his respect for the composition in the way he expresses the head: it’s often embellished with parallel lines and substitutions but it retains authenticity. I enjoy his readiness to bend and distort it any which way, changing harmony or melody or time or density or whatever, but always with the tune obvious or at least implied somewhere below. I hear Bad Plus and Bill Evans and McCoy Tyner but I’m sure there’s more. Take this for a set: James Taylor’s Fire and rain with heavy rhythmic left hand diss-chords, then Tuneup as medium up, Walking on the Moon as uber-cool groove, Raindrops keep falling on my head with an interlude of Monk’s Well you needn’t. And Coldplay and a few originals and some lesser-known standards. This was a varied, personal repertoire with rhythmically aware arrangements and broad-ranging creatively and informed interpretation. The trio was shining too. I hadn’t caught James Luke on double bass for some time. Bass is never the harmonic changeling that piano can be, but this was energetic and tuneful and impressively capable and James played with a few substitutions of his own. I particularly enjoyed Mark Sutton’s drums on the night, too. This was Mark at his best: fluid with cymbals and kick, sharp with snare and dynamic with mutating grooves, and solos that were all the above and conversational. This is piano trio music that would stand anywhere. For the music and the venue size, this could be our own Smalls; for the cocktail-bar clinks and the gloomy lighting, it’s all our own. Paul dal Broi (piano) led a trio with James Luke (bass) and Mark Sutton (drums) at Hippo. Hippo Bar has the best local jazz every Wednesday night from 9-11pm; free entry.

Mix and match

West Side Story by Městské divadlo Brno (Czech Republic) / Jef Kratochvil, from Wikicommons

Cognac Lounge had a great little gig the other day at Adore Tea, but it was a different band this time. Singer Monica was taken ill and she was replaced at short notice by Gossipist Richard on Sax. I didn’t think to report this - aftehttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifr all, it’s just a standard jazz remix – until I read an article in recent days that discusses matters of creativity in the workplace. The article was arguing that brainstorming doesn’t work but also looked at processes that did work. Amongst these, was research into success of Broadway productions by Brian Uzzi. He found that relationships amongst collaborators were relevant to success and that there was an optimal balance of new and existing relationships in a successful production. “The best Broadway teams, by far, were those with a mix of relationships … These teams had some old friends, but they also had newbies. This mixture meant that the artists could interact efficiently—they had a familiar structure to fall back on—but they also managed to incorporate some new ideas. They were comfortable with each other, but they weren’t too comfortable.” Uzzi’s favorite example is West Side Story which was created by colleagues Jerome Robbins, Leonard Bernstein and Arthur Laurents with Broadway-virgin lyricist Stephen Sondheim. All pretty obvious, really, and something that’s common experience in jazz, but nice to see it confirmed. For our gig, there was considerable continuity but also some edgy discontinuity and unexpectedness. So we just had to improvise, but that’s jazz. CL-i (Cognac Lounge - instrumental) was Peter Kirkup (piano), Richard Manderson (saxes), Eric Pozza (bass) and Brenton Holmes (drums). Groupthink : The brainstorming myth, by Jonah Lehrer / New Yorker, 30 Jan 2012 (http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2012/01/30/120130fa_fact_lehrer, viewed 21 Feb 2012)

Singing of sleep and inevitably of love

I am not surprised by volume in soprano voices - they even tower over orchestras - but I was surprised by the volume of Tegan Peemoeller’s harp when she played with the soprano Katherine Warren.

This concert restarted the so-pleasant lunchtime series for 2012 that I’ve discovered at St Alban’s Church in Woden. It’s a small chapel in the round, with a timber ceiling that directs the sound and carpeted floor and brick to give it some control, but even so the volume took me back. Then I noticed the similarity in tone to a classical guitar and the piano-like range, down to 3 octaves below middle-C (that’s double bass range). I spoke to Tegan after. The higher octaves are nylon strung, and the lower ones are variously gut and steel round-wound synthetic, so that low G she played was not the same tone. We also discussed tuning. Pity the poor harpist: subject to heat and humidity and lights, each string requiring individual tuning, all 7 octaves or so (~84 strings; the open strings are the piano’s white notes, and pedals sharpen or flatten for the full chromatic scale). The harp was loud but also gentle despite the twang of the pluck. And it was perfectly lovely with the high, pure singing of Katherine’s soprano. These were songs – they performed 11 in one set – and the songs were both short and distilled. They have a story but I didn’t easily catch the lyrics, so the voice becomes abstracted as pure intervals, twilling vibratos and swelling crescendos. The pair played a popular tune, Dream a little dream of me, and I found the earthiness and groove was missing to my ears. Classical performers don’t have the same sense as jazz or pop players about where to place the beat. I didn’t catch the words much either, but then they are trivial and sentimental so perhaps it’s not much loss. But the classical songs were a delight: richly structured melody; easy but effective harmonies; clarity of purpose; and a sense of timing that worked for the style. A song by Fauré recounted sailors leaving on ships and their wives in tears and you could hear the rolling of the seas in the rising and falling arpeggios in 3/4 and the bereft wives in the slow voice line above. These songs were prepared for a Sleep & Dreams concert, but most songs are love songs under the cover. Handel’s Oh sleep don’t you leave me was the starter, then a pair on the same poem, Come sleep. My guess is these were both mid-20th century. There were lullabies, including Brahm’s famous one, and another easily identifiable tune in I dreamt I dwelt in marble halls. There was one particularly touching lullaby where an escaping soldier, left with a discarded baby, sings the child to sleep. This is clear and calm and pensive melodies and quite lovely. Tegan Peemoeller (harp) performed songs with Katherine Warren (soprano) at St Albans Church.

Bb not C#

The words we hear in jazz are much loved but they can be of little import: mostly love songs from the American songbook. On Sunday, I heard Geoff Page reading poetry about jazz, and he noted that “the lines are saccharine, of course, / but irresistible … where one could rhyme youth with sooth”. I like this and it’s so true, as were his other words. Someone mentioned that they liked Geoff’s poetry because it’s easy to understand. This certainly was: daily language, direct, short, unforced but still compelling, especially if you love jazz. Geoff obviously does and his words have depth. It’s not just Coltrane and Miles who appear in his stories, but Booker Ervin and Bobby Timmons and “Stewie Spears, the Sydney drummer, / whom no one much remembers now”. There’s real history here. There’s also a resigned annoyance at times, when Geoff despairs for art subdued by triviality. I was amused that I could guess the bar where the aficionado is surrounded by the shrieking cocktail-baited love market and also that this interfering conversation was in C#. It’s an engrossing passion that he writes of. He recollects the “brittle arguments of Miles / and all the psalms of John Coltrane” amongst the “rough percussion of the grinder” in a coffee bar. (Poets love coffee bars and Geoff seems no different). He notes “the running of the alto sax, / the high-jump of a trumpet”. Geoff plays the vibes and I understood his words well when he recounts that he “snatched / a phrase / and took / it home / to work on but / by dawn / it was / dead”. I learnt something from his neat summary of jazz theory that is his Parable in 4/4 and I’m still pondering this quote: “Minor third without the third / as T. Monk used to say”. Music is truly a hard task master.

Geoff was accompanied by bassist Alex Boneham. He’s a wonderful player and ably strong and commanding for this role. It’s an unusually exposed role for a bassist, demanding rhythm but also melody and harmony and responsiveness to lyrics. Alex did a great job. There were walks, there were grooves, there were blues and standards, Yesterdays and So what. But there was also melody and responsive dissonance and chromatics like the flattened notes that accompanied Geoff’s “before his girlfriend guns him down”. This was strong and edgy acoustic tone and inventive harmonic lines and it was all from big ears. The chart for the gig was just a few sparse written instructions although Alex admitted borrowing a few ideas from Eric Ajaye’s previous recordings with Geoff. That’s how art develops, of course. Congratulations to Geoff and Alex and also to Miriam Zolin of Extempore, the committed publisher who provides so much support to modern jazz in Melbourne and Australia.

“Life, he said, / is a set of chords - / and God, of course, / a jazz musician”

Geoff Page read his jazz poetry to the accompaniment of Alex Boneham (bass) at the Paperchain Bookshop in Manuka. Miriam Zolin introduced the set. The poems were from A sudden sentence in the air : jazz poems by Geoff Page. Melbourne: Extempore, 2011.

Cyberhalides Jazz Photos by Brian Stewart

B9 v.2

It was at the Sydney Opera House with the Sydney Symphony Orchestra and the Sydney Philharmonia Choir that we caught our second live performance of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, the famed Choral Symphony, the Ode to Joy. Our first experience is written up here in CJ when we heard B9 done at the Llewellyn by the Canberra Symphony. I know the work a bit more now. Megan and I both experienced this performance as less ecstatic than the Canberra one but more considered and understood. Perhaps it was our location: we had seats in the boxes above and behind the basses. The Music became 3-D with the choir to the right of us and basses to the left. I could follow the bass line in detail, and this was hugely instructive. I had great sight from behind of the fourth bass in the front row: watching the bowing (he wielded a German bow amongst 6 French and 2 German) and the fingering and even the trivial tasks like turning pages and rosining the bow. It was amusing, too, to see the casualness amongst the players: percussionists tapping while waiting several movements for their written part; brass players draining their instruments; the tedium of counting bars; the discomfort of the singers eye-to-eye with the audience throughout the third movement. But also the joy of a good line: Megan particularly noted the timpanist was having a great time. But the performance was serious enough, and demanding. I was following the basses and there were plenty of demanding lines there. But we could also see and hear the various wind instruments: the flutes that passed lines to oboes and bassoons. The cornets that waited, waited, then tapped a note to give harder edge to a repeated horn line. That contrabassoon that I was waiting to see used, then missed. And perhaps the biggest opportunity of all was to see the conductor, Vladimir Ashkenazy, and how he leads his orchestra. I mostly watched his conducting in the Richard Strauss piece (more later) and was a non-plussed. I understand a conductor taps the beat at the top of a baton stroke, and sometimes he did, but he also tapped more frequently and outside the beat at times, perhaps to speed the players up, then other times it was sweeps of emotion rather than direction. That I didn’t comprehend. The voices were blissful as ever. I enjoyed the play of male and female voices and the gut wrench of the tutti. Also, although we were behind the featured singers, we could hear them well enough and, despite the warbled traditions of classical vibrato, I loved the playful interplay. It’s easy to see why this is such a loved and respected work. Despite all the drama and dynamics and stops and starts, nothing ever seems forced. Every line just fits and leads to the next, however diverse. Everything is purposeful. Not for nothing that Beethoven is so respected. One more thing I noticed, and this of the Opera House: it’s surprisingly intimate when viewed from the stage. I’d sat in rear rows for another SSO concert, and the orchestra seemed like dots in the distance. From the stage, the rows of audience well up in serried ranks and the impression is of intimacy. Do the players realise how distant it all seems for their audience? It reminds me of advice on PAs and foldback. Most important is to get the band feeling right, because then they will perform their best. So this approach, an intimacy for the orchestra, is maybe the right way to go. I must also praise the SSO programs. They are free to collect and informative. This one even has an annotated selected discography.

The program started with Richard Strauss’ Metamorphosen. I only realised after, but this is subtitled: for 23 solo strings. Presumably the players all have their own charts, so the normal sections are groups of individual instruments. I’d noticed solo lines from a violin, then another, then strangely, a unison line from two distant violinists. And the bassists were similar. There were three, but each played separately, perhaps in a pair and the program says only once together. Quite strange. But the tempo was steady, rich in long lines of quavers that moved in various ways. This didn’t feel like a work of virtuoso demands but the whole was deep and emotional and very satisfying.

Then the B9 after the interval. Those first loud lines of the first movement weren’t loud enough to my ears (or to Megan’s less damaged ears) but I expect they set my response to the performance as considered rather than ecstatic. It was magnificent none-the-less. How could it not be? The second movement was all thrills of the extended chase. It’s probably my favourite movement, except maybe for the fourth which is all of the above and more. How wonderful is this and how unneeded are these words? Just to say B9 v.2 was a great night.

Vladimir Ashkenazy (conductor) led the Sydney Symphony Orchestra and the Sydney Philharmonia Choirs in a performance of Beethoven’s Symphony no. 9 in D minor and Richard Strauss’ Metamorphosen for 23 solo strings at the Sydney Opera House. The singers were Lorina Gore (soprano), Sally-Anne Russell (mezzo-soprano), James Egglestone (tenor) and Michael Nagy (baritone).

The cycle of musical life

I was most surprised by the maturity when the Luke Sweeting Sextet played at the Loft. I shouldn’t have been. I’ve seen all these guys before and watched them over time do plenty of impressive gigs. But here there was a composition unity and voice that spoke to me beyond just solos. They are about to record a CD so I suppose they are well practiced (even if I caught a few bloopers) but it was beyond this. Luke’s voice has impressed me since I first noticed him playing in a large ensemble gig perhaps 5 years back. I asked him then how long he’d been playing, and was a bit taken back at his short history in jazz, perhaps a year or so. Then his compositional voice also impressed with that ensemble a year or two later. These guys are all strong as individuals but here I was most impressed how they are melded as a glorious unit with those three horns, sweet and melodious and dynamically controlled, upfront and Chris’ easily syncopated bass and Aidan’s gently stated but driving drums enlivened with Luke’s own syncopations and ostinatos. This format – several harmonising horns as sextet or thereabouts - and this music, talks to jazz that I love. The deep grooves introduced with lyrical melodies spoken with the cleanest of horn harmonies, and of course the individualist statements of the solos. (I don’t know the exact quote, but) Mingus once said that his band had to effectively perform his charts, but their solos were their own business. I hear that here too. There’s an ease with the charts: they are well understood and interpreted, the harmonies are clear and the syncopations feel right. Then the solos are extensions of the personalities of each player. Matt hit first with authority and structure and fluidity and inventiveness that stunned. It’s not just for Matt’s playing, but I’m feeling more for the higher range of the alto these days, and in my listening it seems to be more common. Reuben is fast and furious and ecstatic but carries a droll presence on stage. Max is softer in tone and more restrained in performance and a fascinating penchant for intervallic soloing. Luke covered the waterfront. Blistering runs of tonal play; rich counterpoint between hands; dissonant chordal soloing; ostinatos and comping and even synth-like swelling chords on his suitcase Rhodes. As I find with the best of music, there was intense busy-ness here, but it felt easy and unfussed: an enviable skill and the mark of the well trained and talented artist. Here’s the result of several years of good training on the best of the students: once unformed, now mature, but always searching and learning.

Then all the fun of the jam, and it was fun. A few beers, axes shared, mixing and matching of players and those old standards. I’ll mention some older mates who joined in with the student crowd: Mike and Demetri and me. I struggled with Chris’s “beast of a bass” as described by Max. Max seemed to have no problems. I long for the strong hands that Chris and Max must both have. Mike sat in for a series of tunes, sometimes with a second pianist, either Luke or Andy. I noticed a delightful bluesy authority in Demetri’s alto and an ease when playing collective improv with other horns. Very nicely played. The jam all came to a head with Giant steps and jokingly swapped fours by all the band and some grunts where someone missed a chord. And a final bop blues to end the night. Latish, but enlivening and lots of chuckles amid the seriousness of earning respect that is a jam session.

Luke Sweeting (piano, Rhodes) led a sextet comprising Matt Handel (alto), Max Williams (tenor), Reuben Lewis (trumpet, fluegelhorn), Chris Pound (bass) and Aidan Lowe (drums). For other than one tune by Reuben, they played compositions by Luke. This was a fundraiser to start the new year at the Loft and what a great night.

Two feels

I wrote once before on Errol Buddle and the era he represents to my ears. This time, listening to his quintet last night at the Gods, I particularly noticed the two-feel on Bob’s drumming that was almost a constant through the night. Also the malleable pitch of both horns up front (maybe less constant) and the relatively consonant sound and the massive tone of Errol’s tenor and the delicious counterpoint from Ed Wilson’s trombone. (No surprise here: Ed Wilson was one half of the legendary Daley/Wilson Big Band). This was attractive and endearing music, and the repertoire was part of the reason. Errol once mentioned that Duke Ellington wrote over 1,000 tunes. The band played several of them, along with Cole Porter and some other mega-standards: Caravan, Take the A Train, Don’t get around much anymore, Night and day, But not for me, Anything goes, The man I love, It don’t mean a thing if it ain’t got that swing, Perdido, Basin Street Blues. There were lyrics, too. Ed sang Louis-like and also a scat solo through his trombone mute (!). Marée sang Cole Porter’s witty Anything goes, but I particularly liked her take on The man I love which was undemonstrative and somewhat defensive: it spoke dignified resignation to my ears, which seems just right for this tragic song. At one time, Errol joked that he’d been asked while on a Russian tour what key he plays C-Jam blues in: “Which key”, “It’s only got two notes”, “Which two notes?”. Comedy is in the timing. When I arrived, I found Jared Plane sitting waiting. Jared was sitting in for the night (which he played with sharp technique and some lovely melodious solos), but the band hadn’t arrived. They were coming via Yass after following defective GPS instructions. In the end, they were only a few minutes late on stage, but with the query: “Why is Canberra so hard to find?” The night was like this. Big tone and great tunes, steady cut times and some delicious counterpoint. Well enjoyed.

Errol Buddle (tenor, alto, soprano saxes, flute) led a quintet with Ed Wilson (trombone, bass trumpet, vocals), Marée Steinway (piano, vocals), Jared Plane (bass) and Bob Baird (drums). Also great to catch up with Ron Lucas. Ron’s a pianist with a long history in jazz and popular music and, interestingly, pianist for a scene in the Mick Jagger Ned Kelly movie.

Cyberhalides Jazz Photos by Brian Stewart

Returning to Roots

I follow jazz and even fine music these days, but I still have a soft spot for blues-rock so a visit to the Pro Blues & Roots jam today was lots of fun. The Cherrypickers were hosting and what a great little band they are. No surprise there: they are made up of some of the cream of the local blues-rock scene and the songs were wide ranging and entertaining, the feels were solid and capable, Monica’s voice was in full flight - loud and powerful and often growling - and John’s guitar solos were busy and chordally full and often screaming. Just as this music should be. They had the dancers up, the feet tapping and a few heads nodding, and they were having as good a time as we were. John’s bass sounded great, too: hard and unyielding with playing that’s tight, rock-powerful and distilled. They didn’t strictly play the blues, although JVB sang on the classic, You don’t love me. The rest of the repertoire included Michael Jackson’s I want you back (this was commented on!), as well as Aerosmith(!)’s Walk this way, JoJo Zep’s The shape I’m in and Martha and the Muffin’s Echo beach. Not really the blues: more entertaining than impassioned.

The room was the same. This is not a young crowd – I don’t feel out of place – but all are welcome. The blues does have some young followers but I’m sure many of these people lived through the years of rock guitar. Cream’s Sunshine of your life was played and my guess is that the performer heard it when it released. But it’s a friendly, easy-going scene, beery but certainly more restrained than I expect these guys (mostly guys) remember from their youth. There were several other make-up bands, people having a jam, maybe friends who’ve played together here or elsewhere before. One was more a country blues style, playing JJ Cale and the like. One was led by the richly bearded ex-Canadian singer-guitarist Danny Mack aka the Cement City Cowboy. Chris Harland led another band with his hot blues guitar. I got to play a few tunes with JVB and Jon from the Cherrypickers and a few others.

It was an entertaining and sociable outing that I plan to revisit. The blues scene around Canberra revolves around the Canberra Blues Society with frequent events and Bucky’s monthly Pro Blues & Roots Jam sessions. There’s plenty of opportunity to hear the blues and it’s great fun. The Cherrypickers are Monica Moore (vocals) and the Jon/Johnnies: John Van Buuren (also known as JVB; guitar), John Coates (bass) and Jon Jones (drums). The Pro Blues & Roots Jam is held monthly at Holy Grail, Kingston and the MC is the garrulous and entertaining bassist Dave (Bucky) Buckmaster. Other players included Chris Harland, Peter Barta, Steve Hartnett, Mitch Preston and Danny Mack.

Danny Mack

Luxuriations

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.