Relationships

They say most popular songs are about love. We went to hear Trish Delaney-Brown and she sings and writes songs of love, but more mature, more established, more experienced. Maybe it's better to say that she writes of relationships. There's intimacy and honesty here, but it's tempered by experience and it's a pleasure. It was a pleasure all round, of, course. She's a wonderful singer with serious training and great skills. She was a foundation member of the Idea of North, formed from the Canberra School of Music (pre-ANU) back in the '80s. She was touring her recent CD and mostly the band was from it (I think just Brendan was a ring-in) and they are peak players, sharp and understated and capable of abandon when it fits. She sang a few standards, too. I was wary to hear a start on Blue Moon, but I didn't need to worry: this was far more adventurous that that opening suggested. There was swing, but also grooves of various types, always clear and understated. Was there a foot wrongly stepped anywhere by Nic or Greg? Brendan was the eminent bass that we expect and Jeremy was understated but could let go with energetic solos with just a minimum of effects or switch to finger-picked acoustic for that supreme ballad, Nature boy. There were several unisons of voice with guitar and later keys that were obviously scored, presumably for the album, and they hit me for six. Then some delicious grooves, one an arrangement borrowed from Dianne Reeves for Softly that let go into a devastating solo from Greg and a short followup from Nic, who otherwise displayed immense decorum throughout. Trish writes lyrics, too, of real profundity and considerable astuteness from her life. One lyrics was to a tune written by Dave Panichi for a young cousin, Ruby. Another told of the pleasure of picnics as simple feasts and yet another of relationships as The Game, and Neat surprise and Thousand stories. All originals with their stories. Then the driver, What ya got, and the hard swinging paean to Ray Brown, Face of the Bass, which placed its demands on Brendan (which he managed with aplomb) despite the jokes of which Ray Brown, that RB of Tuggeranong? And Softly and Nature boy and a superb reconstruction of a murmuration of starlings simply called Birds. Trish and her band were classy and mature and massively skilled and a deep pleasure. Loved it.

Trish Delaney-Brown (vocals) led a band comprising Greg Coffin (piano), Jeremy Sawkins (guitar), Brendan Clarke (bass) and Nic Cecire (drums) at the Jazz Haus. Trish Delaney-Brown, Greg Coffin, Jeremy Sawkins, Brendan Clarke, Nic Cecire

Big city burn

We were down to Sydney for other matters but I fit in a visit to Venue 505, no knowing who was playing. And what a lovely surprise. A few sets of some terrific jazz with some of the best of the locals. Warwick Alder was just stunning on the most fluent of jazz trumpets. Relaxed, lightly toughed and hugely flight-of-foot. Danny Carmichael joined in for a few tunes late in the night and Warwick just upped the level. Not that Danny was weak: very different, firm toned, clear tonal and atonal lines. Greg Coffin was on piano which I could hear clearly up close for some pics but less well further back where some chair were free. Cameron Undy was stunningly fleet over the extent of the bass neck, moving freely and very easily well into thumb positions. Clearly intentioned in solos, hugely quick, fabulously well spoken in support. I guess pentatonics and much more, but never an uncomfortable note and some very fast solo and walk lines. James Waples was on drums, distinctively open and mobile on the kit and free from a stock swing take. I was in awe, the music was beautifully played, the door was free and there was a constant movement. Not quiet, so not so easy to listen with intent, but lively. I missed some subtleties, mostly on piano which didn't cut through at my location, but a great city burn none-the-less. Much enjoyed.

Cameron Undy (bass) led a quartet with Warwick Alder (trumpet), Greg Coffin (piano) and James Waples (drums) at Bar 505 in Sydney. Danny Carmichael (trumpet) sat in late in the night.

Post-bop lives forever

Jason Bruer introduced his band, Hammerhead, saying "it's the music that turned us all on to jazz". They were playing hard bop, a tribute to Art Blakey and his Jazz Messengers, some originals in the style and with a format to suit, piano bass drums as rhythm section and a front line of three horns, trumpet tenor alto. It's somewhere near how I came to jazz (more closely, it was Dizzy and bop, ten years earlier) and it's a style I still love immensely and, from the reaction in the audience, is loved by many. This concert went down a treat. Lovely harmonies up front, big fat tones from the three horns; a driving, unyielding, regularity from the drums and deep groove from bass and some rich harmonic colour and intriguing rhythmic hits from the piano comping. They mostly played walking swing but there was funky fours and six feels and some lovely '70s modern jazz syncopation as well. The first set was all walking fours, at least in the solos. The heads could be sycopated. Wayne Shorter The Summit and later Hammerhead and Jason Bruer's homage, Wayne's world. Bobby Timmons' famous tune Moanin' worked so well with this combination. Then a bittingly fast head on Jason's Breaking bad. The second half had more modern feels, if still in the tradition. An Eddie Harris tune was funky and Joe Henderson Power to the people was a syncopated 8 feel. Pat Metheny Sometimes I see was a lovely ballad. Jason had two more originals. I loved Sixth sense, a 6/8 reminding me of my formative album, Norman Connors Love form the Sun. For Art's sake was another post-bop dedication and a finish on Cedar Walton Mosaic, an up-tempo post-bopper. This was manor from heaven for me and obviously many the in audience. This music is so approachable and attractive: individualist in solo; supportive in coming; satisfying in fat melodies. And the playing was a dream. Post-bop likes a simple, stated phrase for development. Ray was playful in this; Kim was rich and full (someone mentioned good lungs on young players); Jason was more obtuse and abstruse. Nice combination. Duncan on drums was absolutely steady, unwavering, not overly busy with embellishments. Brendan is an unstoppable force and proved it again in accompaniment, as well as laying some detailed and quick solos. Greg's comping was a dream, intriguing and coloured, both leading and responding, and solos were to match. He took one solo passage, unaccompanied, dismantling and reconsidering, before returning to top. Nicely done and quite a change. As my foot tapped and I thought of the variation on unyielding groove, I wondered if this was the dance music of its days. Great stuff and much enjoyed.

Hammerhead played at the Gods. They comprised Jason Bruer (tenor), Ray Cassar (trumpet), Kim Rawson (alto sax), Greg Coffin (piano), Brendan Clarke (bass) and Duncan Archibald (drums).

Java has history

Java Quartet have a history. Twenty years and seven albums and counting. They appeared at Smiths last week for the launch of their latest album, Together. Interestingly, last time I heard them was for the launch of their sixth album. The gig was the album, plus an encore or two, played in order. Starting gently as a quartet with The Hill song, a gentle groove with intense solos. That was the way with the outing. It's laid back, meditative; the grooves are unhurried. Solos grow organically from a limpid presence of relaxed bass and minimal, repeating melodic phrases. But there's development and power that appears with inevitability in solos. Greg's piano blisters with lengthy but tightly built scalar phrases that move through various dissonances. Matt is more open and his lines have bigger intervals, but there's a similar expansive modernity about it. I was trying to place bother these two and it's somewhere in the sixties. Mike's solos are more restrained, unfussy. The percussionists each take their features, and the blend of drums and tabla gives a rich undercurrent of rhythmic movement and colour. Tablas sing with absurdly quick tika and it was a pleasure to see up close how this is done. Bobby's not a core member of the quartet but features on this album and is a frequent collaborator. His hands blur as he lays down some of the quicker passages, of fingers flash to tap the different tones. It's a different sense of rhythm, expressed in vocalisations, too, and it was such pleasure with Mike's sympathetic drumming. I liked his solos, too. Morganics came on in the second set for a few DJ raps. They were pleasantly political, too; one about asylum seekers; one about Aboriginal land; another just about Canberra. It was claimed as freestyle but it seemed just too clever for an improv. I am a novice in such poetry, though, so I guess it was. If so, I am impressed. It turns out that Morganics has a Canberra connection too, so he may have been reasonably acquainted with his topic. Certainly, it was local. So, this was laid back in presentation but intense in release; nicely modern in jazz and ethnic in percussive colour and contemporary in vocal lyricism. Something old; something borrowed; something new.

Java Quartet are Michael Galeazzi (bass), Matthew Ottignon (tenor), Greg Coffin (piano) and Mike Quigley (drums). One their new album, Together, and at this gig, they added guests Bobby Singh (tabla) and MC Morganics (vocals)

Out of South Africa

Mark Ginsburg imposes a gentle, respectful ambience and his music is the same. I asked Geoff his impressions and he mentioned melody. I’d been thinking the same thing. This was musicianship respectful of composition. The tunes determined the playing, not the other way around. Nothing seemed superfluous. Mark himself had a beautifully rounded tone of both tenor and soprano sax. You could luxuriate in tone alone, but there was also just lovely melody and solos that spelt out more melody. This is lyricism. His band felt the same: quiet, purposeful. That’s not to say there were no burners. I could hear Coltrane in Outside in, which Mark wrote after a McCoy Tyner concert. Later in the night, he offered the choice of introspection or a burner and seemed to want to play the quieter tune. In the end, he played both and they both were luscious. His background is South African and Jewish. They are obvious influences. He spoke of growing up in Cape Town, of apartheid, of blacks playing in the wings with white musicians because it was illegal for them to play on the same stage together. He played South African standards and Abdullah Ibrahim / Dollar Brand. And his masters thesis was on influences of Jewish cantorial singing on jazz improvisation. So I heard the influences in melody, not harmony or rhythm (despite African drums) or colour. The others sat nicely with this. Greg Coffin comped with chords and filled niches with lively right hand fills. I heard e-piano sound and a melodic sense from the Corea songbook. His soloing was post-bop left hand chording, right hand sax-like lines, with that nice turn of melody but also with a readiness to dissolve the bars and lose the one. He was partnered in this by Andrew Gander who pushed the excitement level with busy snapping snare and chunky little rolls. I noticed both of them, at one time or other, leading away from the beat. Not lost, though. It’s exciting as long as you hold your nerve and your mind in check to sit back to the groove. They did, several times. The bass is important here. It’s like an inversion, so when others loosen up, the bass holds true and straight. When it’s happening, it feels like the quote “Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold”, but Karl Dunnicliff’s centre held. He was consistently strong and implicit, stating the tunes, holding a line. This is not to say uninteresting; it’s necessary and strong. When all was more together, with more time and space and less bewilderment, he took some relatively undemonstrative but expressive solos, especially as they warmed to the second half.

There aren’t too many venues for interesting modern jazz bands, and there are lots of bands, so this outfit doesn’t play often. It was obvious how they settled to be sharper and more together in the second half. It’s something only frequency of playing together can achieve. The result is happy musicians and audience after a gig and this was one. Such a respectful presence with lyrical music and avid playing. Great stuff.

Mark Ginsburg (tenor, soprano saxes) led a quartet at the Gods with Greg Coffin (piano), Karl Dunnicliff (bass) and Andrew Gander (drums).

Seeing the gig the same

Michael Galeazzi of the Java Quartet was telling me of a mate and PhD studies in music. He was investigating how different performers in a band see the same gig in different ways. It’s an interesting study, and I guess any highly trained performance art person must have experienced it. Jazz can be quite an emotional roller-coaster, but it’s part of the commitment and fascination and seriousness of it all. The time the band was in accord, after this Java Quartet gig at the University of Canberra, as was the audience. This was a great gig. Michael was up front, happy and joking and enjoying every minute. The percussion section (here I include the beatboxer along with the more obvious drums and tabla) were throwing challenges back and forth and revelling in the different sounds and styles of each of their instruments. Greg on piano and Matthew on tenor were laconic and cool but their blissful interplay said it all. This was the first gig of the tour to launch the Java Quartet’s new CD, Rejavanation, and the quartet was accompanied by two of its CD guests, Morganics on beatbox and freestyle rap, and Bobby Singh on tabla. It’s something I like, this fertile, cross-cultural experiment. It worked a treat and the band’s response just confirmed it.

I wondered if rejavanation hinted at rejuvenation, because there were a series of tunes from older JQ CDs that had been reimagined for the new CD and this concert. The album cover describes each tune by a style: trance, ambient dub, boom bap, etc.. The CD’s press release explains the music as a component of Michael’s Master studies at the Sydney Con, exploring “notions of hybridity through contemporary hypnotic landscapes” through the “meditative aesthetics of contemporary dj/dance culture and Hindustani ragas”. Intriguing and different, interesting beyond the jazz field, and obviously entertaining for the band. Because getting back to the band, they were having a great time.

Firstly I noticed the wonderful rhythmic feels. Drummer Mike was intense at surprisingly low volumes, then letting go at the end with double kick pedal; fabulous interplays between the complex tika-tak of the tabla and jazz drums and even vocal percussion; the way the beat squared up for the beatboxing from the more swung jazz segments. Then the simple, repeating melodies accompanied by moving chordal harmonies or echoing piano lines and the rippling piano and fluttering tenor bursting into full blown sax solos over intense and busy grooves. And the frequent bass solos on a Whitehead SASE that were sharp and edgy, but surprisingly deep in the recording I made on the night. Not at all strict jazz, but obviously jazz informed, and one branch of where it’s heading as it touches on other valid forms. Solos that just appeared from a band that has played together for years, and shows an unspoken interplay. There was even a ballad in there, a deeply felt, sparse thing of synth swells then sax then a touch of percussion. The whole was structurally and chordally simple, but subtly mobile and with an underlying percussive intensity. And it was even political, perhaps more validly than the current election. I missed most of the rap lines, but caught a few that spoke of Brisvegas: “Visions, valleys, concrete”; and refugees: “sometimes / we find / that time”, “sometimes / the best form of attack / is defence” and then a rap in 15 languages.

It was an intriguing jazz for a modern ear, and a mix of styles for a modern world. Great stuff. And very much enjoyed by performers and audience. The Java Quartet are Michael Galeazzi (acoustic bass), Greg Coffin (piano), Matthew Ottignon (tenor sax) and Mike Quigley (drums). Their guests were Bobby Singh (tabla) and Morganics (beatboxing, freestyling).

Cantorial crossover

You get a clear feeling that a musical outing with Mark Ginsburg is serious and informed. He presented his quartet this week at the Gods. It was the last night of their tour, so the band was comfortable with the tunes and their interpretations and somewhat unleashed in their improvisations. Mark has been researching the links of Jewish cantoral singing and jazz improvisation for his Masters thesis at the Sydney Conservatorium. His recent album, Generations, and this concert are products of this research. You can hear the depth of the tradition that infected the young Mark as a singer in a synagogue choir. He’s got a passion for carefully built melody with a touch of middle Eastern scales and phrasing. Several of the tunes were actually from the Jewish liturgy, so presumably just reimagined for jazz quartet. His tone also spoke of awareness and presence. I particularly noticed it on his soprano that sounded so full and rounded, but his tenor was similarly smooth and big. Mark clearly displays a passion for the music and a seriousness in that passion.

The band was satisfyingly in tune with Mark’s approach. Karl Dunnicliff played some wonderfully fluent and capable solos that seemed to bounce through positions, but mostly he laid down steady ostinato lines against a busy and ever-rising drum accompaniment from Tim Firth. I was sitting near Tim, and was fascinated by a seemingly relaxed performance on a basic kit that twisted into complex or extended fills or grew to busy statements that fell so easily from his sticks. Drums seem to often lead the level of excitement in modern jazz, and I felt it here: slick and relaxed in technique, but busy and complex in effect. Greg Coffin’s piano provided a harmonic backing, but I mostly noticed him when he soloed. These were strong and inventive and varied solos, both in chordal flows and in right hand improvisational lines. I asked him later if melody or chords led his solos. I wasn’t surprised he said chords; I thought I could hear an adventureousness with harmony. The overall effect of the band was often a big and full, well stated melody or solo line out front, and a busy shower of rhythms and fill behind, even one spot where the rhythm section broke into cacophony with Mark out front bravely holding the melody. Metaphorically, it might have been Mark speaking of a religious or cultural permanence against a disintegrating world, but it could just as easily have just been an effective and involving musical statement.

A few other observations: Mark’s friendly and intimate patter (and South African accent); plenty of comfortable medium tempos; some very open solo opportunities for sax and piano and bass; an unrushed and pensive approach. And some lovely solid, steady swings towards the end of the night, including a blues by Abdullah Ibrahim = Dollar Brand (a nod to Brendan).

ArtSound was recording, so listen in for this concert sometime on Friday Night Live. Mark Ginsburg (soprano, tenor sax) led a quartet with Greg Coffin (piano), Karl Dunnicliff (bass) and Tim Firth (drums) in an exploration of the crossover of Jewish musical traditions and jazz improvisation.

Some like it hot

Hot and cool was the subject of a discussion I had with someone last night, and I guess it was prompted by a band that started hot and hard from the top. Sean Coffin was leading a long-standing (17-year) band with brother Greg, Simon Barker and our local Eric Ajaye sitting in for the bass seat. Later, another local, John Mackey, sat in for several tunes and a distinct change of tenor. But more on that later.

It was a night of unrelentingly driving sax and piano solos, deliciously organic and mellifluous drums, and a solid, steady, clear bass line driving the band. I commented on this, especially some unison syncopated phrasings, and Eric said it was all dots rather than chords except behind the solos. Eric handled it all with aplomb and garnered obvious respect from the other players. There’s a family resemblance in the playing of the Coffin Brothers: hard blown, constant, not overly dissonant, although moving through phrasings of alternate chords and dissonant turnarounds. It was a big sound on both piano and sax. The piano was busy and the left hand chords were big and full. I felt if Sean could play chords, he’d be big and busy like his brother. A tenor mate suggested Joe Lovano as a clear influence, and he dedicated a tune to Michael Brecker. This was somewhat in contrast to Simon who seemed strangely dignified in his detailed and bodily-expressive playing, but easily up for the ride. There was a mention of a Korean drum pattern from Sean (I’m sure I heard about Simon Barker’s Korean drum history on ABC radio recently) and I felt his solos sounded of Asian drums: solos that were dense in sound and richly complex in battering, incessant crossing rhythms. The music was original, modern post bop in style, with plenty of space for solos, but also unison lines and syncopated melodies. I particularly liked some unusual combinations when some of the players dropped out: leaving sax & bass or sax & drums.

The tenor changed a little when John Mackey sat in during the second set. Firstly, because they played some standards: All the things you are and Straight no chaser. But especially because it’s interesting to hear several capable players of the same instrument together and to observe the different styles. John was screeds of notes, indelible substitution, and a more metallic tone. His alterations are so complete and challenging as he clinically explores the dissonances in extensions. Clinical as in rational, not as in soulless, because his playing is emotionally intense and honest, too. Suffice to say I like his playing! In this company, Sean seemed gentler, more earthy and meaty, more of this solar system than other universes. His dissonances seemed to express underlying harmonies and turnarounds and chordal movements. John seemed to be the other way around, so he’d select a dissonant pitch then explore its internal logic, its own related modes. You could hear Sean move through chordal patterns; you could hear John select a pitch and dissect it. Both expressed melodies, both were raw and intense and imploring at times, both used the full range of the instrument, both clearly spoke to the underlying tune. How would I say it? Sean was perhaps more sustained while John was enigmatic. Suffice to say a lovely exposition by two capable tenorists.

So it was an intellectual and musical experience for me on the night. Thanks, guys. Sean Coffin (tenor) led a quartet at Hippo with brother Greg Coffin (piano), Eric Ajaye (bass) and Simon Barker (drums). John Mackey (tenor) sat in for most of the second set.

Thinking Afro Blue

Afro Blue is a famous jazz tune which talks of Africa. I heard strains of it as I listened to Mosaic the other night at Hippo, but it doesn’t convey to me the complexity and richness that I was hearing. Judy Campbell’s Mosaic is a clear work of love, and the smiles and rapture of the front line make that obvious. Love of the richness of African culture, its drumming, its vocals and chants, and the lanky joyousness of sub-Saharan Africa … at least as I imagine it. I feel I know so little of Africa, other than sad stories of bad regimes or mad wars or starving villagers. There is so little else on our media that I was taken aback to hear a normal current affairs show dedicated to Africa on the BBC World Service recently. It suggested an Africa that was stronger, more educated, more positive than I’d thought. It’s embarrassing to be so ill-informed, but we are all products of our environment. (The same thought comes to me when I listen to ABC RN’s Awaye, which presents Australian Aboriginal society in a positive cultural light). In the meantime, at least we can respond to their music, and it’s an easy and entertaining step for jazz lovers.

Mosaic has a front line of three: Judy and Justine on vocals, and ex-South African Mark on saxes (tenor and soprano) and vocals. The three vocalists made for much of this joy. The voice is a sublime instrument. These three sang unison, or less commonly, harmonies on meaningful lyrics and tuneful melodies, sometimes with odd scales (at least some sounded Jewish) or rapid, jagged rhythmic passages. They also dropped into percussion of various types, especially Judy who played an array mbira, a tuned spring instrument that she played with challenging, counter-rhythmic timings. If the front line was a joy, then so much so was the rhythm section (we are talking Africa, after all). There was not a walk anywhere in sight, but strongly defining rich, deep bass notes from Karl, and some wonderfully fluent, talkative solos and long, long unison lines with piano or sax, behind vocals or other melodies. Greg, too, played some fabulous solos, moving freely through modal chords. He really was strong and satisfying in this style and the lines just flowed with joyous energy.

Then to the talking drummers: so they were. Tim Firth was wonderfully in form, playing in a style that fitted admirably within the African idiom. I pondered what study he’d done in African drumming, because it seemed convincing to me in its authenticity and a long way from standard jazz fours. I was stunned by some fills that mimicked the front line and wondered how well practiced were these guys, or was it written. And I was taken by a drum/percussion solo at the end of the night where parts was passed from Bandika to Tim, and the African rhythmic sense was maintained with aplomb. So to Bandika. He was on the other side of the stage, so I missed much of his complexity, but you could feel the loping rhythms and complex grooves of Africa, inherent and mirrored in the rest of the band and growing from the percussive richness. This is what makes for that rolling, danceable groove that we know from Africa. And the whole of the rhythm section just loped along with it. Bandika took a few solos, too, and you would not believe the volume from his djembe. Really, really loud and cutting, so Tim’s kit with sticks was left in abeyance. Were his fingers taped, like I seen on conga players? Nope; how tough must they be? Bandika also sang, and this was where I really heard another culture: fast, tangled lines of voice that sounded other worldly. Couldn’t be further from Madonna despite her adopted associated with Africa. But Bandika is a Kenyan master drummer, and this takes time and study, and the difference is inevitable, as well as fascinating.

This was intriguing and enlivening and human music, and I loved it. Give me more anytime. If world or folk festivals had more like this (and fewer Morris men and earnest singer-songwriters), you could expect to see me there. But for the meantime, I’ll just expect to hear it in jazz circles. OK by me.

Judy Campbell’s Mosaic comprises Judy Campbell (voice, array mbira and percussion), Mark Ginsburg (saxophones, voice, percussion), Justine Bradley (voice), Greg Coffin (piano), Karl Dunnicliff (bass), Bandika Ngao (percussion, voice) and Tim Firth (drums).