28 November 2012

Same as it ever was

They say the classical composers used to improvise, so maybe Marc Hannaford’s solo piano concert at the Loft was an experience like that. It was intimate, with a smallish audience encircling the piano - lots of closed eyes and quiet attention – and it was something very special and also quite unusual. Marc improvised two sets. The first set was based on an infinitely rising Bach canon dedicated to Frederick the Great and a Scriabin second movement based on seventh intervals.
The second set was formed over Jelly Roll Morton, Bud Powell, Messaien and a return to the Bach canon. Each set was a medley of tunes and improvs based on those tunes and each lasted about 50 minutes of intense and varied solo playing. The tunes were well worked. I hadn’t even realised it was Bach that Marc was playing until he introduced it post-set. I’d heard polyrhythms and dissonance and four-note solo phrasing and lyrically changing harmonies and stolid pedals with overlying morphing harmony and chord clusters and anticipations. So this comprised all manner of improvisatory techniques, but stylistically I heard it somewhere in the first half of the twentieth century; I thought Debussy or Ravel. I chatted with Marc in the break and he agreed: 20th century, French or Russian, not German. In the second set, when I knew to listen for it, the Bach became obvious although still well transfigured. And the stride and other jazz styles were obvious although also recast. There’s a deep understanding and commitment required to come so close to such pieces. It’s an understanding of the essential structure and themes of the composer that allows this improvisation. This is more than just the dots. His playing is actually hard and insistent rather than delicately formed classical. It’s an exploration rather than an interpretation that he offers and it’s essentially compositional in its concerns. Marc also mentioned that he doesn’t like being limited in style. He introduced the concert saying he may play from the 14th century to today. Certainly, he played as far back as baroque and stride and his post-modern inclusiveness is a thing of today. It reminded me, too, of the strength which the Music School had with its collocation of classical and jazz streams. I talked with jazz trumpeter Alex about practising Elliot Carter and transcribing and that also crossed these boundaries. It’s all sound and these are all Western forms and they are actually heavily influenced one by the other (although more jazz by classical, given timing). This was fabulous and almost unique in my experience. I was enthralled. Marc Hannaford (piano) played solo at the Loft.

26 November 2012

Sun-free Sunday

It was a lovely, warm, sunny day outside. Night venues always look dingy during the day, and Vivaldi is a classic cabaret venue. The Loft crew were sponsoring their first Loft at Vivaldi Sunday-afternoon jazz session. It was a decent turnout with the regulars but also a range of new faces. The music was excellent. A friend joked that that this music should start late and run to morning, but these guys are professionals and it was well played regardless of the time. I came especially for the recreation of a favourite classic album, Oliver Nelson’s Blues and the abstract truth, in the second set. Alex Raupach had transcribed the CD. The band was the right line-up. The solos were performers’, but the heads and horn harmonies were the originals. I found the first chords of Stolen moments a bit spooky, as the horns swelled just as I remembered and the rhythm section sat cool like the original. Then Butch and Butch and Cascade and Teenie’s blues. I had to leave early but I’ll hear the rest later from a recording. Suffice to say, to my ears, they were true to the original and with a ghostly similarity in the heads. I came for the Abstract truth, but first set was just as good. I had shivers at the first lush chords of the first tune by Luke. They played another two by Luke and one each from Jack and Alex. Jack’s was called Agent Cooper and was unsurprisingly guitar-based. Alex’s was conceptually witty: a new melody over the chords of Billy Strayhorn’s Upper Manhattan Medical Group (UMMG), dedicated to the Loft, with the title Upstairs in the Majura Medical Centre (UMMC). The two others were very different styles and somewhat surprising to me from this crew. First was a cover was a Wayne Shorter’s Aung San Suu Kyi, a floating groove with whisps of soprano sax from John. The other was a work of colour and presence rather than groove, mystical rather than earthy. This was some wonderful music for an audience of old hands and newcomers, and despite the unhealthy retreat to the dark on such a nice day, it was a big success. Loft at Vivaldi had it first outing with Alex Raupach (trumpet, flugelhorn), Matt Handel (alto sax), John Mackey (tenor, soprano saxes), Tom Fell (baritone sax), Luke Sweeting (piano), Jack Palmer (guitar), Max Alduca (bass) and Luke Keanan-Brown (drums).

23 November 2012

Last schooldays

Given work, I don’t attend many recitals, but I got to Rohan Dasika’s classical, licenciate recital. He played Bach, Bottesini and an intriguing-sounding modern piece called Failing. The Bach was his Cello suite no.3 played in Gmaj (rather than the original Cmaj). The bass is large and unwieldy, its range is limited and the fingering limits how and what can be played, so it’s a different exercise and an obvious challenge. I didn’t envy Rohan chasing up and down the fingerboard, but it was a valid technical exercise and I enjoyed it although I found it harder to follow than it would have been on cello. The Bottesini was his Concerto no.2 for double bass in Amin and it was much more fitting to the instrument. Bottesini was a bass virtuoso and his works for the bass are key to the repertoire and apparently this is his key standard work for the bass. I seen several Bottesini clips on YouTube but never heard a live performance. This was much more apt for the instrument. Lyrical, effective use of the full range of the instrument, lots of harmonics and playing to the extremes of the fingerboard, rich tones down low and rising arpeggios and a nice interplay with the accompanying piano. The last piece was anything but out of place for Rohan’s recital. Tom Johnson’s Failing: a very difficult piece for solo string bass has the performer speaking while playing and talking about this very activity: easy at first, then getting harder; will he fail, or choose to fail and then essentially succeed; don’t all performances involve some failure. The accompanying music moved from lyrical to devilishly chromatic and the speaking moved from reading to improvised. Only Rohan will know where or how he failed (he certainly didn’t fall in a heap) but it suited his zany virtuosity. Great fun and much enjoyed. I have no idea how this performance would go over with examiners. The works were challenging. I noticed some technical slips and his face was variously mobile with pleasure and pain, but this was intriguing and engaging and entertaining and even humourous and for a solo double bass concert, I can only imagine that is exceptional. Well done, Rohan. Rohan Dasika (double bass) presented his third year recital. He was accompanied by Kylie Loveland (piano) for the Bottesini.

While in the building, I also caught the week-long lunchtime performance called Elevator #1. It’s percussion on a 36” concert bass drum in the lift at the Music School. I only heard the first few minutes and beats, written as crochet-rest-repeat, played with one mallet, then adding a second. The lift went up and down; the doors opened; visitors entered and left; it was loud. I was hearing the drum later, down a corridor, presumably when the lift door opened. I expect it’s a valid comment on the changes at the school (sounding all the world like a funeral procession at the start). I would like to hear the development over an hour, even over the week, but my ears wouldn’t be up to it. This is a small space and the big skin and beater is a loud combination. But it’s worthy and I’m glad I’ve seen it, if only for a few minutes and only in the earliest moments of musical development for that day. Austin Bucket composed and conceived the piece and William Jackson (percussion) performed it.

21 November 2012


The Loft was in piano trio mode: Clare Dawson playing Herbie Hancock and Tate Sheridan playing his own music. Tate went second, but I’ll talk of him first. Enough said that I left in awe. I wasn’t the only one who had little to say after a stunningly mature student concert. Mature in concept, in composition, in improvisation. Tate is quiet on stage, respectful and deep in thought and interests, and these are expressed in his compositions as well as his respectful presence. Poetry, history and spirit all made an appearance, as well as influences and styles of some key pianists of influence.
I noted early his powered, adventurous, virtuosic playing. Classical in approach, chordal and full handed but with melody appearing in left or right hand, modal and symmetrical in improvisation, dynamic at both structural and improvisatory levels, expansive in use of the whole range of the keyboard and free with time as solo lines based on triplets or sixteenth or eighth notes rippled over extended phrases and plays with anticipations and delays. His Run don’t walk was influenced by Keith Jarrett’s ‘70s Cuban playing. His Onward onward was a ballad inspired by a poem from Walt Whitman’s Leaves of grass accompanying a recorded reading of the poem in Jason Moran style. His Please no questions was written to explore melody in two hands after hearing Brad Mehldau, with right and left hands playing a parallel melody an octave apart, then dropping into a heavily swung, straight ahead blues for solos, then ending with half time staccato unison passage and a return to the full time melody. Final hour, capturing the Mad Trapper recounts the longest chase on record, a chase of 250 miles after the bushranger, the Mad Trapper. This was a repeating 6x4 eighth-note passage sounding like steady pacing, with interspersed smashes and chords and accelerandos and rests and staccatos and a final, sudden stop as he’s presumably caught. Grace was slow: not religious but seeking and mellow and questioning. Speed dating was a head in three parts: sparing staccato right and left hand unaccompanied piano, then heavy, bluesy, syncopated groove, then swing, leading to solos and an end with the piano dissolving then returning to the head. An intriguing structure, even with swing solos. This was Tate’s night but his trio members deserve a mention. Max was playing a newly purchased, old German bass. Despite unknown strings but with strong hands, it sounded great. He is playing maturely these days, solid and reliable in accompaniment and expansive, full ranged, sometime playful in improv. James was obviously observant, watching Tate and exchanging glances with Max and well integrated with the tunes and with an idiomatic boomy kick drum. Suffice to say, this was a stunning outing and I was not the only one to leave the night with unusual quiet and respect.

Clare Dawson introduced the evening with a set of Herbie Hancock tunes. It means nothing to say these were interesting compositions. Jessica, a ballad with harmonically-enriched cycles. Some heavy loping swing in And what if I don’t. The melodically infectious Toys from Speak like a child. A grooving, smooth Calypso. The modal Eye of a hurricane from Maiden voyage. There was lots of ground covered here. I enjoyed Clare’s firm, even hard, touch, her use of repetition, her solid swing and bluesy hard bop chords and rolling arpeggios, her melodic sense. Max was again grooving in walks and sweet and expressive in solos and Luke was tempered and respectful in accompaniment.

The piano trio is a key format for modern jazz but it’s diverse in its character. I’ve seen three over recent days and enjoyed them all. Raf’s updated traditionalism; Clare’s respectful modernism; Tate’s stunning contemporary originality. All great pleasure and inspiration. Tate Sheridan (piano) led his trio with Max Alduca (bass) and James O’Donnell (drums) at the Loft. Clare Dawson (piano) introduced the night with her trio comprising Max Alduca (bass) and Luke Keanan-Brown (drums).

18 November 2012

Titbits and topsyturvies

It’s intensely visual imagery and a joyous, accepting look at life in a small Welsh village. Under Milkwood is by Dylan Thomas. It’s famed, it’s studied, it’s filmed. DT wrote it in 1953 and it was first read in that year, and incidentally recorded at the first reading, with DT appearing as the First voice just two weeks before his death. It’s set in the village of Llareggub (read it backwards). It’s the story of umpteen people over one day, starting with their dreams and finishing with sunset at the end of the day. It was a radio play. Multiple characters are performed by seven actors so it’s a challenge to follow all the stories. I wonder if it might be easier to follow on radio. I was not the only one challenged. It demands concentration, but it’s funny, it’s tragic, it’s homely and accepting. These are odd characters but they speak to the depth and flimsy and tragedy and dreams of us all, although perhaps we’ve lost such lives in the rational and ordered days we now live. The seven did a wonderful job, seated in a row on stage, behind music stands with the text, voicing and acting the parts, mostly seated, occasionally standing or moving, sometimes singing. They were accompanied by a raft of children at times and several sound effects persons in true radio drama style, here in black with props and violin and piano. It’s delicious language that massages the lives of this odd crew through their typical day, if not ours. “It is spring, moonless night in the small town, starless and bible-black, the cobblestreets silent and the hunched, courters'-and-rabbits' wood limping invisible down to the sloeblack, slow, black, crowblack, fishingboatbobbing sea” (opening line spoken by First Voice). Wow. I say nothing by saying that these are irksome but sympathetic stories of Captain Cat, Mog Edwards, Polly Garter, Nogood Boyo, Organ Morgan and the rest. This was delightful and humourous, demanding of concentration and wonderfully done by our local Wild Voices music theatre group. The seven core performers were Nick Byrne, Tobias Cole, Dene Kermond, Kate Hosking, Dianna Bixon, Zsuszi Soboslay and PJ Williams.

Giant steps are what we take

It’s the first line of the classic pop tune, Walking on the Moon by the Police, but with an obvious jazz reference. The Raf Jerjen Trio played Walking on the Moon and they didn’t play Giant steps. Raf’s swinging trio can seem somewhat out of time playing heavy, dug in swing like Ray Brown and NHOP while students are busily exploring the universe of rhythms and strange scales and Raf mentioned this. Maybe that apocryphal quote of Newton’s, that we stand on the shoulders of giants, is a better quote here. I clearly heard Bill Evans fluency and interplay and there was a raft of dissonance and Bill remains modern. This band recognises and values the past but it also had a modern awareness and a placement in history.

Raf’s bass was fat and growling and his playing was fast and supple and fluent. There were some stunningly fast runs in the low positions and lengthy thumb position scales but I was particularly taken by the lyricism of long intervals across strings through the middle of the neck. I’ve always admired Paul’s piano which I hear as deeply cool and personal but also as an intellectual treat of dissonance and changing harmony. Paul’s not forward in performance, but I find his piano is wonderfully expressive and inventive. Raf commented on Paul’s found harmonies. He also nicknamed Gary as the semitrailer, always ready to come on strong in the next bar. That was so right, and this format suited Gary to a tee, open, rhythmically clear and tonally precise and with an exuberant joy in unexpected explosiveness. This is a trio that spans the history of the jazz school. Raf formed the trio and is a recently graduated student; Paul studied there in the ‘80s, during the early years of the jazz school; Gary has taught at the School of Music for a decade or more. This was a unity of friends and long term colleagues, bouncing off each other in the best traditions of jazz. Raf volunteered their policy as “Swing hard and keep it real”. It’s an older conception but still profound and too good to be forgotten. This is music to bathe in.

So if not Giant steps, what did they play? Raf provided a few originals and Paul an original and several arrangements. They also played a few standards. All the things you are is ubiquitous and Wayne Shorter’s Black Nile and the Police have caché as modern and sophisticated. Bye Bye Blackbird and Raindrops keep falling on my head don’t, but they were also satisfying as vehicles for vibrant, responsive and often adventurous playing. These guys are each strong in their own right. They don’t need one another to lay out the tune or work their way through variations on it, but the totality is stronger than the sum of parts as they bounce off each other or explore paths in counterpoint. I particularly noticed Raf’s sophisticated job of laying down unexpected intervals and movements within the chordal structure while Paul was playing through a range of dissonances. Bass usually holds the structure together while the lead explores alternate harmonies. Raf did this but he didn’t resort to the obvious. Good. One original by Raf was a quirky number called Happy Ahmad. It aptly matched Ahmad Jamal’s playfulness with parts of light melodicism, bouncing swing and extended bass fills. Strange but effective. Another was a slow and sombre dedication to bassist George Mraz. Paul’s original was a dedication to his family. His arrangements that I know are of modern pop songs, and some have a degree of syrup (think Raindrops… or Tie a yellow ribbon round an old oak tree) but he moulds them as cool rhythms and worthy jazz vehicles. Paul’s Raindrops features a drop into Monk’s Well you needn’t. There’s quiet humour but also seriousness and cleverness here. It’s almost a throwback olden times to hear Bye Bye Blackbird, but when it’s played like this, it’s a treat. A growling bass in a swinging piano trio is a thing of wonder and just enhanced by stylish dissonance. I enjoyed this concert immensely. Raf Jerjen (bass) led his trio with Paul Dal Broi (piano) and Gary France (drums) at the CGS Gallery.

17 November 2012

Of lair and laird

The U3A Recorder Orchestra comprises eight ranges of recorders but on this day they played seven: sopranino was not required. Recorders don’t have a strong sound. Wikipedia describes them as “remarkably clear and sweet, partly because of the lack of upper harmonics and predominance of odd harmonics” (Recorder, in Wikipedia, viewed 16 Nov 2012).
When they all played together in harmony, with a string of basses down to the strangely squared contrabass, they surprised me with a likeness to a pipe organ. But then, they form notes in much the same way. This orchestra is not professional, with players having lifelong or little experience, so the tone was occasionally strident and intonation was sometimes sacrificed to reading the dots, but they performed a lovely range of musics. These are mediaeval and renaissance instruments, so I wasn’t surprised by a string of 6 Renaissance dances by various composers. I was surprised by the suggestion of an active international recorder family, but I shouldn’t have been. The dancers were arranged by an Englishman; a later Irish suite was composed by Steve Marshall from the UK; this very orchestra had a fantasy written for them by another Brit, Steve Marshall. Otherwise, the music moved from older to newer. From the Renaissance through Palestrina, Mascagni, the original tune and the contemporary Irish Suite, to Berlioz’ magisterial Serenade for the Holy Family. They presented the Berlioz as their Christmas offering - the performance is in St Alban’s Anglican Church, after all. I enjoyed some of the later works, with more syncopation and orchestral pads and instrumental interplays and more expansive concepts, but I think I preferred the simplicity of the early music for these instruments. They sound strangely distant - think Robin Hood but not Errol Flynn - pure and simple, humble when playing Berlioz and contemporary and in the context of the overwhelming power of modern instruments, but proud in their own context of taverns and debauchery or halls and dignity and stateliness. That’s their place and they sound great there. One more of the universe of sounds that is music as we know it now. Margaret Wright conducted the U3A (University of the Third Age) Recorder Orchestra’s Chamber Ensemble at St Albans.

15 November 2012

Visiting Africa

Matt Ottignon and his Ethio Groove project are playing just one part of the spectrum of African musics. Matt explained some of the background. Ethio Groove is a new development of Mulatu Astatke and that it first appeared in his compilation called Ethio Groove. Mulatu had studied jazz in London and performed with Latino musicians in New York before he returned to Ethiopia to develop his Ethio-jazz style. To generalist ears, it’s based in the rhythmically intense musics of Africa, but Matt also talked of local scales (Wikipedia says modal pentatonic with long intervals and not tempered – Music of Ethiopia, in Wikipedia, viewed 14 Nov 2012) and styles of singing and specific rhythms. It’s certainly infectious and danceable. Matt himself stood rocking side to side, and although the audience were seated, there were plenty of tapping feet and nodding heads. Our Euro-reticence seems so out of place when this music gets a head of steam. It’s cleverly played and the solos are interesting, but it’s primarily physical and probably best appreciated on your feet.
Matt with his wildly syncopated heads and call and response solos. Luke S on the organ, with growling solos and choppy comping. Brother Eden O laying repeating lines, often oddly spaced, on electric or double bass and Luke K-B holding steady on some devilish repeated but irregular beats. We were introduced to a rhythm from Tigré that crossed triplets with straight beats. Like jazz swing, this is something you learn to feel and it’s impossible to write. It’s like a language: you have to learn and it’s best learnt young. I could feel an underlying beat at heart-beat speed (120bpm) under most tunes, often four-to-the-floor on the 1-2-3-4, sometimes on 1-3 (I don’t think on the jazzy 2-4), but I tried to tap the bass lines a few times and it wasn’t in my vocabulary. Interesting that; understanding requires time and immersion, as does Matt’s rocking gait. It’s dancy so the immersion would be fun. Matt introduced the tunes and the performers, but it’s all Ethiopian to me. Other than one tune that was sung by two women with the Ethiopian Army Band. Or a mention of an 80-ish Ethiopian saxist playing punk in the Netherlands. Or when they took a turn sideways for some originals from Luke S and doubly so when they played a Pharoah Sanders tune that floated with bowed bass and piano arpeggios and cymbals and a rich and deep tenor tone. That was a change. But mostly it was the triplet feels and funky but stilted beats of Ethiopian groove and it was indulgent and immersive and physical. This is really music for the body and soul, even if the intellect if satisfied. Matt Ottignon (tenor) led his Ethio Groove project which comprised Eden Ottignon (electric, acoustic basses), Luke Sweeting (organ, piano) and Luke Keanan-Brown (drums)

14 November 2012

From Paris via Bermagui

I sat back awed by Alex Stuart’s band. There was some seriously hot playing here on some complex charts with odd times and contorted melodies and chunky grooves and lots of time for speedy solos. I chatted to Brendan in the break and mentioned this. He said it was a pleasure to do a few gigs in a row, as this band has done. He’d got some mp3s and charts to prepare - as is normal practice - but often there’s just one gig, maybe two, and you are struggling with more complex pieces. This band had played twice at the Wangaratta Festival, as well as Bennett’s Lane in Melbourne and Zephyr’s at Bermagui, so the music was comfortable. It was clear with the settled grooves and the eyes that weren’t stuck in the music stands. And these are such good players and this was such a decent, unusually mature, audience. I guess it’s family and friends, as both Alex and Brendan studied here in Canberra. But all four have reputations and Julien and Ben are masters that would have brought in a few others. Suffice to say it was a hot band and one I was particularly looking forward to.

The grooves were wonderfully strong. Ben is all over them, occasionally laying a beat, but otherwise idiosyncratically laying counter-rhythms, strong and hard, sometimes moving around the beat, but always so strong and fluent and easy, and with a left foot unconventionally working an extra pedal striking a cymbal or whatever. Brendan was equally fluid but also stout and solid on bass. He’s got a wonderfully formed left hand, strong with first finger pointed, playing mostly in the lower registers, but straying to thumb positions and almost above the fingerboard for one solo. But it was his right hand, fingers and arms working, that mostly impressed me and that’s where the groove comes from. There were smiles from Ben and returned chuckles from Brendan showed they were having a good time. I’ve seen Julien in more restrained situations but this was anything but. I didn’t always catch his playing from where I was sitting (I’m told he was louder on the other side of the stage) but when I did he was quite softly toned but fast although not frantic and what seemed to be mostly tonal and reliably structured. This was lyrical but at speed: very nice. Alex led from the guitar with his own compositions. There were devilishly fast heads, often against changing times and bar lengths, leading to repeating grooves, sometimes in odd times. I think I counted a 12 and an 11 and a 9 but the band was fluid and barlines were treated with apt disrespect, so it was none too obvious and often difficult to count. I thought I heard Mahavishnu in some of Alex’s accompaniment and I thought of fusion, but the heads weren’t like that. The players were all strong and all led the others at times, but I could feel Alex leading often enough from his comping seat. I didn’t particularly hear Mahavishnu in his solos although they were sometimes rabidly fast (guitars usually are). I felt this was mature and idiosyncratic and stylistically developed playing. I felt an influence of rock in chunky chord solos and effective use of repetition, but also slinky jazz guitar and what I guess were various alt or Arabic scales in both solos and composition. And a soft but lengthy echo that showed itself at the end of solos. I particularly liked the way the band members would drop out: maybe just drums and guitar, or bass and sax, then come back in, one by one, with rising excitement. And the strength of these duos were remarkable! I was taken aback at one time when I realised just how strong was a groove that was just bass and tenor: stunning strength and independence of playing. Local altoist Matt Handel sat in for a few tunes, too, so the front line got fatter in melodies and there were solos to compare and a sax summit of the two horns.

I’d expected a good night and this was more mature and settled than I’d hoped for. What good players are these, and what an impressive and well practised outing. At this level, it just takes five gigs. I shouldn’t be surprised: these guys are good. Alex Stuart (guitar, compositions) is back from Paris for a visit and touring with Julien Wilson (tenor), Brendan Clarke (bass) and Ben Vanderwal (drums). Matt Handel (alto) sat in for several tunes.

13 November 2012

Bawdy Chaucer

I had expected David Yardley and his male vocal quartet called Pocket Score Company to be on stage for the launch of his new CD, so I was taken aback when a stream of twenty of so singers entered from the back of the delightfully pure-sounding Wesley Music Centre singing away in bawdy, rowdy mediaeval style. The CD is a collection of songs from the era of Chaucer called New carols and songs for Chaucer’s pilgrims. As David explained, we still have the words of these songs, but we no longer have the music. So David wrote it, and it is grand. Those earthy, muscular sounds of mediaeval voices in full flight. Those dutiful, faithful sounds of mediaeval believers. Those bawdy, joyful sounds of them rousing in inns. Those half-understood sounds of olde English. All accompanied by naught but a bodhrán played with fingers. David walked us through the tunes, through the background, through his experiences studying with Tobias Cole and singing in Jesus College, Cambridge, as well as several Sydney choirs. The music is true to the era although not an attempt at recreation. The words are original, selected from The early English carols / Richard Leighton Greene (Oxford : Clarendon, 1935). We heard a selection. The first and last were sung in ambulation by the Pocket Score Co with visitors and the Canberra Youth Choir. They were a doomsday carol and a drinking song: suitable matters for walking. The others were sung by smaller groups of about 6 singers. They were two Christmas carols and a wartime/political carol. They were variously uplifting or bawdy but always lively with the immediate humanity of this era (as we imagine it). We all followed the ambulating singers out to purchase our CDs and imbibe mead and ale (brewed specially in a style of the era by the Baines Brewery). This was loud and proud music very convincingly sung, both live and on CD. I’m listening to it now. What a Canberra gem!

David Yardley (countertenor, composer) wrote sympathetic music to the original words of mediaeval songs for his new CD. He performed several at the CD’s launch at the Wesley Music Centre. Singers included the Pocket Score Company with David Yardley (countertenor), David Mackay (tenor), Paul Eldon (tenor) and Ian Blake (bass), some invited singers (that I can’t name) and the Canberra Youth Choir.