Culture club

Daniel Guggenheim appeared at the Club Voltaire for the Jazz Initiative Frankfurt. Luckily, I was close enough and free enough to attend. I was convinced from the first discovery that a Jazz Initiative gig would be worthwhile, with its brochure cataloguing a string of concerts, several each week, in various venues around Frankfurt. DG himself is sax, out of Switzerland with NYC history. In jazz tradition, the band was formed the afternoon of the concert. DG is now resident in Frankfurt. He’s played with American, now Austrian-resident, pianist Peter Madsen but not with the drums and bass, so I understand form bassist Dietmar. Drums and bass know of each other, but again not played together. But the chords were standard simple modern jazz in the style of Coltrane, and the feels in similar style, think Love Supreme, and there weren’t too many unison heads, although a few on piano with sax were impressive, and the bass had two with sax and a nice 12/8 feel at another time. And the structure of the show was interesting. Two sets, of course, early, 8-10pm. The first notes were an impressively steady and energetic pedal point in four through to a penultimate ballad and a slight let-down for the final, to get us back to life outside, perhaps. It felt apt. In the meantime, DG on the Coltrane combo, soprano and tenor saxes, huge tone, satisfying substitutions, consistent conviction and nicely modern sense of melody. The fourth harmonies from the piano felt absolutely in place, but Peter could and did also flail with atonal flourishes, I guessed on the symmetric harmonies, diminished or less commonly on whole tone. This was hugely exciting, departing then resolving, moving times, followed surprisingly closely by drummer Jonas. But a late ballad, The moment I met you, showed him in another light, tonal, restrained, searching for an essence of the tune. Peter was a favourite for my night, but piano’s ability to do it all at once frequently makes it my favourite on a night. Jonas was busy throughout, driving, energetic, except for solos where he might play tuned drums, raising pitch by stretching a skin, or explore sounds, not least with a gloriously vibrant gong. I couldn’t see that one, but it was such a pretty bell-tone. Not least, Dietmar on bass. Lovely tone that was present even when not loud (Markbass amp, Spirocore Weich, German bow, 5-string tuned CEADG for an odd fourth but an extra resonance with G string), neat intonation, modern syncopated approach with occasional walks, a few quite unique solos with bow or pizz, and most importantly good feel. This gig was consistently energetic with a late-‘60s vibe and top-notch playing for a packed club of listeners. Some wonderful players performing for a packed crowd (Frankfurt’s urban population is only ~750,000 but its greater metropolitan population is 5.5m) under the Jazz Initiative banner. This deserves more time than I will have.

Daniel Guggenheim (tenor, soprano) led a quartet with Peter Madsen (piano), Dietmar Fuhr (bass) and Jonas Burgwinkel (drums) at Club Voltaire, Frankfurt under the banner of the Jazz Initiative Frankfurt.

Arriving home

Arriving in Frankfurt feels so much like returning home. It’s not that I am German, but that I am European in heritage and outlook. So the ageing airport, the imperfect signage, the delayed shuttle bus, the unkempt foliage felt homely, if in contradiction to the image of German efficiency. Later, so did the infectiously friendly service, the doggedly satisfying sauerkraut and knoedels and goulash and beers. Obvious tourist (and genuine local) fare, but inviting. But one thing deeply surprised me with its hometown honesty: the system for bar payments at the Club Voltaire. I was a Club Voltaire for the Daniel Guggenheim Quartet. More on that later. Now, Frankfurt is a financial centre with its share of expensive (German) cars in the streets and a Euro symbol in coloured lights in Willy Brandt Place and more than its share of skyscrapers (if only in a European sense) and its requisite Opera House. And it’s had its share of loss, being obliterated in WW2, although the rebuild of the earlier city is convincing, if sometimes skin deep. A deeply sad experience of a visit to the Catholic Cathedral (the Dom) just demonstrates this. The shell was left standing after Allied bombings, the rebuild is sparse and the modern stained glass windows are out of place, but the presence of the beautiful moveable art that was saved then returned just highlights the loss. A Van Dyck, a series of large carved wooden religious triptychs, the stone and timber statuary, the profound reverence of the mediaeval relief Stations of the Cross. The middle-ages devotion contrasting with a modern yearning to remember and honour history. And we continue to do it: Aleppo is in our pages daily. All inevitable in human society, so we are told. All repairable, until the damage is big enough that it’s not. All history that’s remembered and rebuilt, until there’s not the money or the resources to archive or rebuild. Then it’s lost. This is the biblical Armageddon. Great civilisations have been lost in the past, and we have entered the Anthropocene and our powers are now Earth-shattering, literally.

But amongst all this evident history of destruction, the payment system for drinks at Club Voltaire was genuinely heartening. Drinks were provided, the charge was written on the coaster, the drinker pays as s/he leaves at the end of the night. It’s not a common now, even in Frankfurt, but remains in this cultural, slightly rough around the edges, joint. A real-life expression of Obama’s hope. I’ve had credit in a jazz bar in Chicago, but they took my credit card for that. Does honour actually breed honesty or are the cynics right? Which does the evidence support? Most likely they are both right sometimes: the cynics with their fear of destruction and the saints with their faith in humanity.

But that’s not jazz, just musings in Club Voltaire awaiting Daniel Guggenheim and his quartet. That can wait for the next post.