Not really jazz, but a tightrope

The locals do experimental, too. I’ve come to experimental music and free jazz through Richard and Shoeb and SoundOut and Smiths Bookshop and a few more connections. It’s not a popular form. It’s not even something I warmed to at first. I guess it’s got rules. It looks like it can be faked but the cognoscenti see through it. Skills make the difference and you can sometimes judge them. Some skills are just too far out of the mainstream for common recognition, like separated sax mouthpieces or playing underwater and the like. I can recognise bass technique, even if it’s unconventional, and also standard instruments played with trained technique. Similarly, I can recognise musical sensibility in the use of echo and processing and loops and electronica. It’s otherworldly but still human. And often, even without conscious recognition, but closing your eyes you can tell that something has structure or flow or harmony or tonality. This music is largely post-tonal so needs to be judged in its own context. So as I newcomer, I like to hear different approaches, different people, different skills and conceptualisations; to cover the waterfront. This night, at Smiths, before Philipe Petit, I heard three short sets and three groups: interesting and educational.

First up was Luke Pendeaux and Danny Wild. As I understand, Luke played sampler and sequencer (Roland SP404 and MC303) with Danny on laptop sequencer (Ableton live). This was rhythmic music an underlay of drone, heavy in repetition and minimal in change. Various samples were dredged up, edited and discombobulated, mixed with occasional voice that was similarly processed, the whole changing gently over time, with occasional squeals and whale calls and space ship launches and detunes and slow downs. I liked the slightly latin starting groove but wondered how we got to a shuffle swing at the end. I initially felt a sonata-like form in three parts - exposition, recapitulation - but then it seemed to continue to further parts. One thing that’s quite unique about this music is how it’s busily automated so leaving time for swig of a beer between thoughts. That’s civilised. When I go for a beer on stage, it’s usually an unholy intrusion.

Second was Shoeb Ahmad. He would have played duo with Philipe Petit but equipment availability intervened. His key instrument is the guitar, a telecaster with single pole twang, slow arpeggios, sustained chords. This is not a music of guitar virtuosity but of watery change. He uses a string of effects and a sampler. The twang undergoes watery change. But it overlays an unrelenting noise of notes without end. It’s overwhelming, threatening, other than human, throbbing. We felt lost, threatened, rolled by a tsunami of sound. Just breathing, throbbing with heartbeat regularity. But then human sounds like clap slicks, primitive, cicada sounds, and a final crescendo of sampler then strummed chords and silence. Unsettling music, dark despite the country twang.

Third was a trio of Andrew Fedorovich, Reuben Ingall and John Wilton. Their presentation was earthy, animal. These were calls in the wild from sax mouthpiece. Rugged slaps and windblown shudders, echoing and grooving like ants and bats in the night. Then decay, an electronic drop in pitch, like a plane falling or a perhaps a crow circling, aware, calm, observant. Then night nocturnal creatures, mystery and unknowingness, Sustained twisted, bent animal tone from sax and splashed of malletted cymbals to replace the regularity of mallets on skin. Then suddenly violence leading to slow decay and some relief. Here again I noticed the automation, laptop wielding Reuben able to take a swig while sax and drums were immediate, in the moment, living as in humanity.

How else to describe this music? I close my eyes and more than other musics, its soundscape expands and its logic appears. Its direct and unconventional and even uncivilised, and that can be good in art. Whatever, I’ll be hearing more, especially with the fourth SoundOut Festival of this music coming up in just a few weeks’ time. The performers were was Luke Pendeaux (sequencer, sampler) and Danny Wild (sequencer); Shoeb Ahmad (guitar, effects, sampler); Andrew Fedorovich (alto sax), Reuben Ingall (laptop) and John Wilton (drums). The location was Smith’s Alternative Bookstore.

Badass, lyrical

Note: new themes for the day: badass, lyrical

Both were apt for Alex Raupach’s Quintet when the played for ArtSound’s Friday Night Live last night. Take lyrical first. I don’t know what it is, but brass players are just more lyrical. Alex’s compositions were melodic and extended and unforced, as was his playing. From languid rolling pieces to freer forms, these were long lines that moved through harmonies with voice led inevitability. Especially so on the flugelhorn, that most languorous of instruments. Most of the concert was comprised of his compositions. First was Little river, a medium latin piece reminiscent of Freddie Hubbard and the Little Sunflower album. Then a freer style with Leave the lone ranger alone, a comment on our political leaders; What is she, a pensive ballad that borrowed words from Dorothy Porter’s verse novel, The monkey's mask; a dedication to Michael Brecker called MB; and Interphase, a slow modern piece that returned to Sunflower territory. The second set featured a few non-originals: Enrico Rava’s Bella, Eric Dolphy’s medium-up Ode to Charlie Parker, and a freestyle version of Stella and more originals: the lively For Kenny [Dorham] and two slower modern tunes, Mamma you wouldn’t believe it and Near people. Alex is a capable composer: complex chordal structures that underlie melodies that move and modulate with ease. Very nice.

The whole band was comfortable. John Wilton may question that, given he was a ring-in for the night, but he handled the job well with concentration and committed understatement. Rachael Thoms sang Dorothy Porter’s words, but mostly performed voice as instrument, with complex unison melodies and occasional solos, and some expert classically-inspired fills. I was standing behind Andy Butler for some expressive and intense solos and richly complex chords played with gentle touch. He told me he’s uncomfortable with acoustic piano sounds on electric instruments, but he was obviously enjoying the Yamaha grand’s ringing tones. Piano really is the master instrument, and Andy is playing these days with rich sensibility and informed intellect. Simon provided the bass line that growled in reference to Ron Carter’s CTI days. I really enjoyed his solidly supportive playing, but he’s also listened to the likes of William Parker and Ornette so he sneaks in some intriguing complexity at times.

So I was taken by this concert: by some wonderful playing, but perhaps even more by the attractive and worthy compositions. Alex Raupach (trumpet, flugelhorn, compositions and badass radio voice) led a quintet with Rachael Thom (voice), Andy Butler (piano), Simon Milman (bass) and John Wilton (drums) for ArtSound’s Friday Night Live.

Organic developments

It was a steamier style for Matt Thompson’s Organ Trio at the Trinity than I had previously heard at Moruya. Matt is not one to play screeds of notes or flourishes. It’s much more the deep, elusive interval or harmony that defines his approach to my ears, at least in the couple of outfits that I’ve seen him play with. At Moruya, his Organ Trio was particularly sparse. But Trinity’s a noisy venue, and there was a large group of people partying last night. Perhaps this brought out just a little of the mongrel in the trio.

I caught the first set. I think it was Wayne Shorter to start then another favourite melody, but I didn’t recall the titles. Then a lumbering organ blues and ballad Georgia and Softly as a morning sunrise. I heard it as hotter than previous outings, but there were still moody, floating passages that sat waiting for crepuscular melodies. Early on, I noticed a satisfyingly solid swing from John, rich with precise accents and snaps and rolls, which harkened to the hotter outing. But always there was Matt defining the cool, holding back on careless ebullience. Max is a good choice for such an outfit. He’s thoughtful and considered, working the chords steadily and comfortable with considerable dissonance. He plays faster and longer lines as the solo progresses, but they have an inevitability that speaks of solo development. But Matt is the master of the calm and considered. This is theory parsed to the n-th degree. The sparsest of lines, the most minimal of solos, the most tangential of intervals, but there’s hidden harmony that beguiles as you settle in. Melodies that weave through the structure, often distant or perpendicular, as they resolve to the tune that you knew was always there but shadowed in the minimalist soundscape. It’s elusive and inscrutable and a bit baffling. But it’s not unknowable and I’m still coming to grips with it. This is a mature player with a developed and personal style that doesn’t divulge its secrets lightly. Quite a challenge, not least to me.

Matt Thompson (keyboards) led his Organ Trio with Max Williams (tenor) and John Wilton (drums) at Trinity.

Exclusively for my friends

Tom Vincent and his newly minted trio played for a house concert for family and friends, so the reference to Oscar Peterson and the Exclusively for my friends series is obvious enough. Tom’s a pianist, after all, although in a much broader and fluid and more modern style than Oscar. But the sound in the room was clear and crisp and reminded me of the sound of those records. And it was a fully acoustic outing: baby grand and unamplified double bass with the volume to (mostly) match it with Mark Sutton, who can be quite powerful when he chooses, and Tom who was hugely and dramatically dynamic and often just plain loud.

And it was a wonderful performance. Tom led with a mashup of standards and jazz tunes, mostly unannounced and picked up with stunning facility by Leigh and also by Mark (but then drummers can do that more easily: no chords). There were plenty of Monk tunes, and some soggy standards like Foggy day and All of me, and they played Jitterbug waltz, which is a favourite of mine. There was some modern stuff there, too. Coltrane’s Love Supreme got a toe in with Resolution. These were all mixed together so that I overheard Carl quip “another seque; we must have heard 300 tunes tonight”. An exaggeration, but this was stunning fluidity and playfulness and a readiness to cover the waterfront of jazz history. But the witticism and capability had everyone chuckling as another melody appeared unexpectedly.

And it was not just masses of tunes, but also massive fluidity over all parts of the music: rhythms moved all over the place. Polyrhythms between hands, bass line triplets and delayed lines, drums capably moving with all this. Melodies that were dissonantly sideshifted or restructured lines with the same form but altered intervals and pitches. A pianist noted that Tom has a big hand, so could play big, unusual chords in his left hand, but they were extensions and colours that we were hearing, as well as intervals. Busy and dynamic and expressive and playful. A wonderful night, in from a very cold Canberra night, with an open fire, exclusively for friends.

There was also a free jazz intro from Jono Lake (piano) and Shane Spellman (trumpet) and householder John Wilton sat in on drums for one tune. Sorry, no pics of Jono or Shane. I also caught Leigh and Mark playing with James LeFevre when I was out and about in Manuka the following afternoon. I’ve put in a few pics of that, too. I only heard a tune or two, but it was lively and capable. And Leigh’s parents, Bill and Celeste, were there with a few friends of mine: small world.

It was a fabulous night. Tom Vincent (Hobart-based piano) led a trio with collaborator Leigh Barker (acoustic bass, ex-Canberra, now based in Melbourne) and first-time member, Mark Sutton (drums).