Gai Paris

C'est vrai!  Paris is strong on jazz and, as I understand, also on earlier jazz styles and we have our own authentic Canberra-cum-Australia reps in the midst of that scene.  This weekend they were home to visit family and we caught them at Smiths, upstairs, in McGregor Hall.  Leigh Barker is the leader and also the Canberra person but now in Paris with Heather; otherwise Melbourne, the Coast, another Canberran and Latvia.  Latvia?  Well pianist Max Teakle was genuine Latvian on tour and he recognised local sit-in Valdis Thomann for his Latvian roots.  Paris can also be quite mixed and bohemian.  Whatever, this was hugely fun, inviting, joyous music.  Leigh leading with his gut strung bass; Heather with the most apt voice for this style and a good bit of playful pleasure and, to boot, violin.  Eamon just the part with an Elvis lick and overall presence and wonderful trumpet and Valdis hugely impressive as the trom offsider so comfy he seemingly had had a life lived in this very band.  And not least, Mark down the back setting and syncopating the tempo.  Just lovely.  Often slow, always rock solid steady, sometimes toungue-in-cheek implications, through a string of standards of Ellington and Frankie Valli and Billie Holliday and June Carter Cash and plenty of originals from Leigh and perhaps others.  All from their album that Leigh was indulgently spruiking on the night, Cross Street, in all formats (although only 7 vinyls available on the night).  Just great fun and great entertainment from a very professional outfit playing the era.

Leigh Barker (bass) led his band with Heather Stewart (vocals, violin), Eamon McNelis (trumpet), Valdis Thomann (trombone), Max Teakle (piano) and Mark Sutton (drums) at McGregor Hall, upstairs at Smiths Alternative.

Visiting Paris

Paris comes to a backyard near you.  Aussie bassist Leigh Barker grew up in this house and performed a garden concert for friends of the family.  Leigh has ventured to Melbourne then to Paris with his singer/violinist partner Heather Stewart and they now have two young Parisians to fill the family but he still comes home every so often and plays tours and clubs and backyards and the like.  This time they'd also recorded in Melbourne.  I got to the backyard gig and it was something special, like our own jazz club with sun.  The day was good and the deck was new and stage-like and rang with taps and the piano could be rolled straight out into the open.  Leigh and Heather had Matt Boden from Hobart and Dan McLean from Michelago.  No drums, but the pulse was strong, the bass certain and voluble with the expansive piano and forthright trumpet.   There were plenty of quips and gasps and whoops shared in this style and the humour was skin deep but articulate and the groove was ever-present.   This is early jazz and not something I chase but a huge pleasure when done like this.  I was all tapping toes, as I should be.  Heather explained her new Guanieri-like violin's subtleties (essentially the Strad/Guanieri dichotomy but to all, I guess, it was pretty much unnoticeable without the two together) but the slides and delicacy were what mattered and her voice, so perfect for the era, just rang so, so true.  I think of Paris as a comfortable home for early styles (but not just: I heard Hadrien Féraud there and he's no slouch and nothing at all early).  They played WC Handy and Ellington and Fats Waller and Jelly Roll and Gershwin and even Rudi Valli and just one original, a dedication to a friend, Adriana, by Heather.  Not just another club gig but a bundle of joy of great musical skills and a huge pleasure.  Thanks to Leigh and Heather and Matt and Dan.

Leigh Barker (bass) led a quartet with Heather Stewart (vocals, violin), Matt Boden (piano) and Dan McLean (trumpet) in a backyard in Hughes.

Ragtiming Paris

There's not too much international travel these days, but Heather and Leigh got back from Paris just at the start of the pandemic and they've been down the coast and dropped in to Smiths for a gig. Leigh is Leigh Barker, once local bassist trained here in Canberra. It's a story of a small world, but I know Leigh and his folks through multiple connections. Heather is from rural NSW but I first heard her in Melbourne. They have kids now and have lived in Paris for several years. But back here for the duration, I guess. Their gig was classic early jazz, perhaps the latest tune was from Irving Berlin in 1932. Glorious beauteous melodies, cute and nicely played on violin with guitar or bass, and sung by Heather with a firm and tailored voice intervening with her neat violin melodies with a lovely, understated vibrato and considerable body. There was one ragtime, this being a family-version of Heather's Dirty Ragtimer Duo, along with Maple leaf rag and Carter Family and Louis' Hot 5 and a string of lovely but often sad songs, like Old fashioned love and Lover come back to me and Say it isn't so (that's the Irving Berlin tune from a time when he'd lost much). So, a lovely, touching, period concert (it's arguable that much jazz is that these days) that had me tapping my toes with 2-feels. And some decent guitar and wonderful bass, not least with French bow, spelling 2-feels and early walks and beautifully self-evident and understated solos. It was a change to go to Smiths again, although sadly now sparse, separated listeners, but a pleasure none-the-less. For the audience, some returns; for Leigh and Heather, maybe some more returns, to Paris. Not sure when. But so nice while it lasted.

Heather Stewart (vocals, violin) performed with Leigh Barker (guitar, bass) as the Dirty Ragtimer Duo at Smiths.

Performance passes

Music is a performance art. It's performed, it passes, it's lost. Sometimes it's recorded. I was disappointed that Tom Vincent's concert was lost. Tom is an agile pianist with ideas that appear in proliferation. He plays standards, but these are not everyday tunes and melodies. They are re-visions of great tunes and harmonies, dense with fluency and variation and invention. Fabulous in all senses of the word. Wondrous, animated, exhilarating. He often plays with local-now-Melbourne bassist, Leigh Barker, who's able to follow Tom's exquisite wonderings, perhaps taking a solo on a whim or changing tempo or interpretation on an instant. There's an understanding here and a great capability to use his ear. The first time I saw the two together Tom was leading through long medleys and Leigh was there with him with only the slightest of delays to pick the tune. This concert was more standard, no medleys, although the quotes proliferate. Their drummer was Alf Jackson on the most minimal of kits, just kick, snare, sock, cymbal. It's enough; there's plenty of rhythmic action available and plenty of tone variation, too, using brushes and sticks and rimshots. It's a traditional approach, unamplified bass with gut, unamplified acoustic piano (here a Yamaha U1 upright sounding great) and the minimal kit. Just skills and ears and immense variety and playfulness. Great gig. Too bad it was lost to posterity, but you can't preserve everything.

Tom Vincent (piano) led a trio with Leigh Barker (bass) and Alf Jackson (drums) at Vivaldi.

Having wits

You have to have your wits about you when you play with Tom Vincent. He’s lively, fluid, ever changing. It’s a fabulous experience for the listener but the hot, intense, mercurial ideas that he throws up are a challenge for his musical colleagues. He’ll change feels, go double or half time, ballad to hard bop, polyrhythms to swing, quotes or medleys. It’s exhilarating and a mark of a musical mind with a rich range of feels and tunes on tap. I’m not sure what plans there are behind this. The first time I saw him was in a relaxed house concert where each set was an extended off-the-cuff medley. Leigh was again the bassist, and Mark Sutton the drummer. Leigh has been the bassist each time since. He’s perfect for this role: satisfying tone and unamplified volume, with a rich repertoire on tap, a strong musical personality, a readiness to experiment and a good natured approach to the ride. We don’t hear this jam-developed fluency much these days. It’s a real buzz. It’s also personal. I can’t help but think of Oscar Peterson and those albums playing for his friends. That spontaneity, warmth, intimacy and as noted by Tom himself, that risk taking, is here too. And it’s always swinging. There’s lots of hard swing here. Despite some rabid dissonance and jagged intervals and zany rhythms, this is deeply underlaid with swing. This is the presence of jazz history. I got that from the hard walks, from Danny’s tone and tremolo and Alf’s driving brushes. Skill that’s influenced by the modern, but richly aware of the swing and pre- then bop years. The tunes were from there, too: standards, ballads, bop, Billy Strayhorn, Bird, Monk. Classic stuff and Tom does it with honesty and a nod to following history. This is rich and challenging and a furious ride and a visit to the great jam sessions. The tunes can be short, although these weren’t all short this night. They can be arranged instantly, bass solo, drums solo. They can end on a dime, unexpected and enervating. Tom was picked for the Opera House and to tour with Wayne Shorter, which he did, but I’ll take his furious brilliance in the small club anyday. Leigh is a constant offsider and a star in the role, not just in his flexibility and knowledge, but in the driving walks and the easy soloing. Saxist Danny is “choppy” (an expression used by a visiting classical player meaning he’s got chops). He certainly is, writhing up front over the tenor, manhandling the baritone sax, but also surprisingly fluid on the bass clarinet and with ne’er a squeak. Again, like the jam session, there’s a touch of competition between Danny and Tom: Tom responding to Danny’s solo lines with florid fills or comping with tangentially rhythmic chords. Along with Leigh, Alf is a steady hand, frequently playing brushes with time-honoured grooves, soloing so as to spell out the melody. There’s a rich history here, great chops, dangerous risks. Tom is always a blast. Fabulously entertaining and this night for a surprisingly suited crowd. Apparently they’d visited a Tassie Senator in Parliament House in the afternoon. She must have been at the Budget, but it looks like her office came to the Loft. Nicely done. Spreading the word. A blast as always.

Tom Vincent (piano) is touring with Danny Healey (tenor, baritone saxes, bass clarinet), Leigh Barker (bass) and Alf Jackson (drums) and they played at the Loft.

Small world

Our world can be pretty small. I thought of this at the Matt Boden gig at the Loft. Matt is back in Melbourne from Paris and is touring his new CD. He was playing with Leigh Barker, ex-Canberran now in Melbourne, and with Mark Sutton, our local who a Sydney resident at one stage. So that’s already a small world. It became smaller when two faces arrived from NYC: Gordon Webster and Rob Adkins. They were over for a few weekend gigs playing for swing dancers. They tour the world doing just this. I’d seen them at a Grammar School gig when they performed with Adrian Cunningham (NYC ex-Sydney). I’d lent Rob my bass that weekend: wheels within wheels. I used to be involved at Mt Stromlo doing observation for the professionals. It’s a similarly small scene and I remember being surprised to hear there are only ~8,000 professional astronomers in all the world. Jazz is a bigger community but still small and also international. We think of the world as 7 billion people, but communities can be much more intimate.

So what of the gig? I think of this as an old style of jazz, but even modern jazz (~1950s) is now 60 years old. Matt played Jelly Roll, bouncy early jazz, and Monk and standards in between. They were mostly played with the same sense of determined tonality and avid swing and a relaxed gait, with steps to double and half-time, lyrical and frequent solos and commonly swapped fours with drums. This is not the intellectual challenge of new music; we recognise the tunes and the changes are cycling fourths and the heads are attractive and the experience is pleasure. You just sink into the music, enjoying the tasteful beauty of it all, and foot tapping with pleasure and ease. I particularly enjoyed Leigh’s gut-strung bass which was surprisingly loud and present for an unamplified instrument. I think Leigh is the only jazz bassist I hear playing unamplified in a band context. And his lines contained long sequences that flowed easily and consistently. This was very nice playing. Mark was a master with his easy feels and sudden accents and talkative solos. Matt led with easy harmony and calm solo development. All very nice and very swinging. (I followed a few blog posts on swing recently. I think it was Sean Wayland who suggested that clear harmonic changes on the 1 (and 3 or other) enhance swing. That’s something I’m now pondering.) Further, if you don’t know your history, you are much poorer for it. This is our jazz history that’s too easily ignored. There was just one tune that surprised me with a modern presence, towards the end, a triple time tune with more meandering and sophisticated harmonies that may have been original and then the final take on Stomping at the Savoy with a modernist bass obbligato underneath. Nice. Gordon and Rob also sat in for a few tunes. Firstly, Gordon with Leigh and Mark on A kiss to build a dream on, which built from delicate piano to almost frantic. Then Rob joined in, then Rob with Matt and Mark. Someone said to me it’s amazing that jazz players can do this, after all, they only met over a beer at the interval. But jazz jams are like this: the standard repertoire taken for an outing.

The Loft is a particularly small part of the international jazz world, but it’s still a place for Paris to meet with NYC with the help of Melbourne. Very much like Stromlo, actually, at least before the fire. Matt Boden (piano) led a trio with Leigh Barker (bass) and Mark Sutton (drums). Visitors Gordon Webster (piano) and Rob Adkins (bass) sat in for a few tunes.

Big Bluesy Band

The chalk and cheese saga continued when I attended the Loft for the full New Sheik experience. Leigh Barker’s full band was there for a night of swinging, down-home dirty bluesy, hollerin’ jazz and it was great. This is a very good band playing music of an era that is is variously touching and refreshing and enlivening to visit. This is Billie Holiday passion, Ellingtonian intellect, Fats Waller bounce, blues growl and corn field holler. Great fun, touching or entertaining lyrics, and the biggest audience I’ve seen at the Loft. It’s an era that entertains and has a following, and this band does the job of promotion and can tickle an audience so deserve the following.

Leigh Barker is the new sheik himself, leading the band from his surprisingly loud unamplified bass (I’m pretty sure even this gig was not amplified). Quipping with the audience and choosing tunes at whim for the gig and the recording that was in train. Heather Stewart is the vocalist up front who also doubles on classically-trained, but down-home violin-cum-fiddle. She’s wonderfully touching when singing Billie Holliday and nicely growling on the blues. Both the horns, Eamon McNellis and Don Stewart were blow-outs. They both display a love of the older styles of jazz, so their solos are delicious and lively diatonic explorations of the chord structure, their playing includes the growls and glissandoes and tonguing that shout New Orleans, their harmonised backing licks are neat and clean and their collective improvisation was intelligent and together. And it wasn’t just old style: I noticed Eamon breaking from sweet diatonics into dissonance several times, but he’d equally sit easily on the most minimal of melodies and drain it for its beauty. And what lovely brassy tones they each had: clean, rounded, nicely articulated. Matt Boden led a few tunes in trio or smaller formats. I loved his simple statements and correct, clear interpretations of the underlying harmonies. And Al McGrath-Kerr was introduced as the band member with the longest name (the band was described as the “least single band I’ve even been in … in case anyone’s getting any ideas”). Al was open and quite minimal, dropping into loping marches or playing with rudiments and rolls.

I love Ellington’s Come Sunday, so that was a delight when they played it as a violin-led quartet. Billie Holliday featured in I must have that man and again in Moonlight and you and you could do nothing but empathise with the desperation. There weer joysome blues, often with the guys in the band hollerin’ responses to Heather’s calls. They played a Tom Vincent original, Big Creek wedding, with a cyclic, songbook structure. Nice to see our players playing tunes by their mates: we don’t just have to play the Real Book. There was an Appalachian fiddle tune that they jazzed up into swinging solos, and a blues tune that the audience voted for, Driving Ducks Blues. And the wit of Fats Waller’s Write myself a letter.

So, a busy night at the Loft, lots of fun, lots of good playing, lots of history and wit and a touch of nostalgia. And the night was recorded in the current full-bore, multitrack recording series that ArtSound is involved in, so we might hear it someday as a CD. I for one loved it. The New Sheiks are Leigh Barker (bass), Eamon McNelis (trumpet), Don Stewart (trombone), Matt Boden (piano), Al McGrath-Kerr (drums) with Heather Stewart (vocals, violin).

Not quite midnight in Paris

This was a night of many pleasures. Delightful swing, performed with real authenticity in a studio environment in the company of friends … and a few beers. The band was a trio of Matt Boden, Leigh Barker and Mark Sutton, with singer Heather Stewart sitting in for a few tunes. The location was Mark Sutton’s working studio which was celebrating the arrival of a Yamaha C5 grand piano. The beer was Coopers.

This night had me thinking of a film I’d just seen, Woody Allen’s Midnight in Paris. It’s a light entertainment about a writer who time warps back to the artistic, bon-vivant era of 1920s Paris of Scott-Fitzgerald, Hemingway, Picasso, Miro. The author arrives at a fine party with piano-man Cole Porter singing tuneful witticisms to the delight of various onlookers. We’ve all heard these tunes, but like Woody’s author-alter-ago, we seldom get to truly hear them in the playful glory of these stylish but desperate pre-bop times. At least not with this authenticity. The piano was clear and acoustic; the bass was unadorned, unamplified, gut-strung and surprisingly loud; the drums were minimal and mostly brushed. They swung with real ease and joy. This was all on par, but it was Heather’s singing that really defined the authenticity to me. The songs of tender lips and moonlight - and the high and imploring voice that cut to bridges of womanly strength in disappointment - got closest to the era for me. I spoke to Heather later and she talked of Bessie Smith and how she was claimed by both blues and jazz followers. And how jazz is a respectful and intelligent art that knows its history and draws on it. So when she sang chromatic lines they were nowhere out of place even if not on Bessie’s songsheet. Authentic and timely singing. Matt is in Paris these days, which just maintains my deceipts here. He was obviously enjoying the re-registered and tuned piano, firstly with Monkish non-conformity, but also with simple joy in the delightful melodies of the American songbook. Leigh worked hard with a high action but turned out frequent bass solos of lively lyricism. Mark amused me when he asked “another swing?” for this was the nature of the outing, but he filled the role with ease on a little kit that was perfect for the job: just adequate to state the four lines/limbs of drumming: kick, sock, snare and ride. All in theme. You won’t be surprised to hear of this setlist: How deep the ocean, Body & soul, Stomping at the Savoy, But not for me, an Ellington blues. There were only two vocal tunes: Sit right down and write myself a letter and The moonlight and you, but always with what irony!

Being in a studio, the music continued even when the band stopped. They were recorded, of course, and we huddled around to hear the effect of different mics and mic placements. It was just a rough mix, but it sounded clear and detailed, although obviously lacking the sheen that effects and processing and mastering will give to the final product. Mark and Greg have a fine studio with decent gear, digital and analogue options, several decent spaces, the skills of experienced musicians-cum-engineers and that lovely Yamaha C5.

Matt Boden (piano), Leigh Barker (bass), Mark Sutton (drums) and Heather Stewart (vocals) performed and recorded for a small audience at Mark’s recording studio. Greg Stott engineered on the night.

Backing Botti

The Sarah McKenzie Trio came up from Melbourne to open for Chris Botti. Opening is a hard spot, but she got a nice Steinway and a decent amount of space and she did a great job. Earthy blues, crisp vocals, sparse piano and a lively, chatty interaction with the audience is evidence of considerable maturity despite a young age. She had a Monday residency in Melbourne when she appeared at the Gods a year or so ago. Her comfort in presentation and calm, sparse playing tells me that she still does. She played a few popular standards – I remember Cry me a river and The way you look tonight – and at least one decent original, strangely sharing a title with a famed standard – Love me or leave me. This one surprised me with its maturity given she’d written it at age 16. She was supported by Leigh Barker, Canberra bassist made good in Melbourne, and drummer Andy Swan. Leigh’s a lovely player who solos easily and has a great line in slap and early jazz bass styles. This was a nicely comfortable opening set from someone who looks, sings and plays the part for obvious comparison with the recent wave of popular female jazz singers, although with a touch more blues grunt. My guess is that Sarah has the goods for a very decent career.

Wayback machine

Leigh Barker led the band in a few instrumentals before Heather Stewart came on stage, and I was thinking this is so far back … way back. This was a Billie Holliday tribute, so I knew it would be early in jazz history, but I was not quite prepared for the trad playing: two-feels and clarinet and strictly arpeggiated trumpet and four-on-the-floor guitar chords on What is this thing called love. The following tune was Old fashioned which was just confirmation. Then Heather came to the stage with Moonglow. A beautiful tune, of course, but continuing the era. All very much pre-bop. But these guys performed with panache, good humour and wonderful musicianship, so even this beatnick was taken by the end.

The songs were obvious and many have been done to death, but they swung and they had inherent humour which was just enhanced by Heather’s ever-joyous presence and occasional improvisation on the lyrics. How can you not like an era that produces lines like this: “Get your fingers off it / ‘n’ don’t you touch it / you know it don’t belong to you”. Nothing too opaque about that, although nothing openly stated either. And delicious numbers like After you’ve gone, or intense blues like Low down blues, or innocently optimistic larks like When you’re smiling, or nautically romantic songs like Sailboat in the moonlight or Slow boat to China. This was a great era for songwriting, despite some I still can’t take to, like All of me or Sweet Sue. I still have to learn to appreciate such informed silliness. Heather helped with her engaging humour but also with a sense of phrasing and variability of lyrics that spoke of the great singers. And she most easily led this band, although in a democratic way. It wasn’t rehearsed, she was open about that, but it melded, despite the negotiations on keys before a song, and the relaxed approach to the set list. But then these guys were good. The horns were great. I’d heard Eamon McNellis before and was not at all surprised. He’s got easy facility to play the changes with great clarity and with controlled tone (and thankfully, volume) but he could also let go, and with ample confidence. A long articulated pedalled note that led to flourishes, and later his ease with playing sustained eighth note lines, doubling to sustained 16th notes, then further doubling to sustained 32nd notes was seriously impressive playing, even at a relaxed tempo. Jason Downes completed the horns, mostly on clarinet but also on alto. I don’t often hear clarinet, so it imparts that old-time feel, with octaves and glissandi, lithe, snakey, bent thing that it is. But it sat nicely with trumpet for collective improvs, or improvising against a trumpet melody or less frequently playing melody with trumpet improv backing. Jason took a similar role with the alto, but I certainly found his alto solos more understandable for my ears. Collective improvisation is something modern players are toying with, and there’s lots to learn from this era. Otherwise, I just lapped up the lovely harmonies of a decent horn section, even only in two. That was so nice.

The rhythm section took me back further, though. Lynn Wallis was seriously into two-feels on drums. It’s true to the trad sound and Lynn played them perfectly well, but those trad fills and the grooves just don’t swing that much to my ears. Similarly John Scurry on guitar with banjo-like four-on-the-floor guitar comping and a very soft, unsustained, woody guitar tone. I enjoyed this well enough and particularly enjoyed the tone which I expect is of the era with no amplification, but it dated the music for me. Similarly the chordal solos with those fast strums and chord slides. All perfectly good playing from Lynn and John, but old-fashioned to my ears. (Thinking back, it’s strange how the timing for the overt parts, vocals and melody, was so malleable, while the underlying beat was so squared, but I guess this is trad and bop was to change that). Leigh was his capable and fully-toned best. Ably and clearly stating chords and not missing any passing changes. I was surprised not to hear slapping, but maybe it’s out of place in this context. His solos were always relaxed and lyrical, and I was impressed when he was toying with the melody of All of me in a different key and Heather called a bass solo and he could easily continue the melody with variations. It was only All of me and only G but that’s musical competence.

So in summary, I really liked this time travel by the end. The malleable timing, the good natured vibes, the relaxed tempos, the harmonies and collective improvisation and some very, very good playing went down a treat, even if the cut time feels and clarinet slides are still borderline for my ears. Moulding the fig is a work in progress for me, but with musicians like this, I’ll enjoy the apprenticeship.

Heather Stewart (vocals, violin) led a band with Eamon McNelis (trumpet), Jason Downes (clarinet, alto sax), John Scurry (guitar), Leigh Barker (bass) and Lynn Wallis (drums).

Restoring our history

Modern life is very much lived in the fast, unrelenting present: we forget our history, which also means that we forget our dues to the past. I don’t come at the argument that jazz ended in the ‘60s but I value history. Leigh Barker’s Quartet obviously do too, and I found their recent gig at the Gods was refreshing and different because of it.

Leigh with his acoustic bass (truly acoustic: miked, no pickup) and slapping technique and gut sound led the outing, but Mark fitted admirably with older-style grooves (sometimes strange and clumsy to my modern-influenced ears but which just fitted) and always sharp rolls and accents and rimshots and hihat sizzles and the solos from Sarah and Eamon were talking with a blues accent. One mate spoke of the piano solos as “gritty”: a nice metaphor and it fitted often enough. I was initially hearing hard bop: strong tonal lines and solid swings with that blues background. But as the night wore on, I started hearing more styles, more influences. Piano and trumpet both broke from consonance for lines that spoke clearly with dissonance and substitutions, and even touches on modal styles and more linear improvisations, rather than locking to the chord changes. But then, back to the past, with lovely gentle swings and vocals from Sarah on an old song, Please be kind, as played by Sinatra/Basie, that reminded me of the current wave of female jazz singers. And a historically apt interpretation of What is this thing called love, sung by Eamon and finishing the night with a touchingly distant and devastating interpretation. Just last weekend, Eamon won the Wangaratta National Jazz Award, this year for brass, so I wasn’t surprised by his fluency and command. His was a masterful performance: a forceful tone, clearly enunciated; melodic, structured, fast solos with growls and bends and releases; wonderfully present and in command. These were not long solos but they spoke clearly and authoritatively.

I think it was the phrasing and rhythms that determined the band as located so much in history, despite the dissonance and modal freedoms that appeared throughout the night. This was harking back to pre-bop, but influenced by many generations after. Or was it the other thing I noticed, that the lines were just right: apparently simple because they were so unjarring. I noticed that first with Sarah’s solos: apparently simple, mostly arpeggiated, and so right. Musicians know this is no easy achievement. It takes work to play simply and inevitably: it’s not something you can fake. James LeFevre was there, and in true jazz bar style, he sat in for the last tune. James played very well, but differently: a longer solo, more modern-challenge, more ecstatic, less classical. It was an interesting juxtaposition and so appropriate for a band that exuded jazz history in bars and bordellos to invite in the local.

I very much enjoyed and was refreshed by Leigh Barker (bass) with Eamon McNelis (trumpet), Sarah McKenzie (piano) and Mark Sutton (drums), and James LeFevre (tenor) sitting in for the last tune.