OWJF2022-1

It's the premiere OWJF (Orange Winter Jazz Festival and I'm there, not for day 1, the more sparse Friday, but for Saturday and Sunday.  This is also the weekend of the Merimbula JF I rememebr, Queens Birthday weekend - the clash surprises me as there aren't so many JFs - but there are only so many long weekends.  Strangely the Monday is being left empty.  The chance is there for future events.  And it's colder than I remember Merimbula, from a cold spell and presumably from a country town far from the sea.  Colder than Canberra!   Happily, the weekend was relatively free for me and there were a string of bands which I'd sadly missed in Canberra so I'm here.  Orange is a 3.5 hours drive from Canberra, past the fish museum. 

I arrive in time for a rerun of Hilary Geddes Quartet.  The tunes were as I'd heard a week before at the Street, similarly intriguing and well played, if not so intimate given the space.  I had another go at counting one tune and decided on 7 but it also went into 8s and 6s then I got lost.  Col Hoorweg commented he avoided the counting.  Sensible!  But again some intriguing playing.  I missed a real piano this time, but bass sounded great and max laid some nice solos.  The acoustics didn't suit drums quite as well as the previous gig, but again Alex is a star of sharp, incisive and somewhat sparse playing and I love this.  And we for another of Hilary's blaring rocky solos that again I love and I think i understood the song of late sleeper next to highway better this time.  So a satisfying start.  Interestingly, I will hear Hilary in many guises during the day.  She is seriously versatile.  If antyhing, that may be a theme of this festival, seeing several basses with extensions, a classical implement not used in jazz and not used here.

Then to Phil Slater's Dark Pattern.  Dark Pattern was the work not the grouping.  Truly incisive and deep playing but dark it was.  This is, of course, one of the senior and renowned collections of musos here this weekend.  These are not the young tykes making names, but the seasoned and experienced performers.  Revered. and they easily deserved it.  I thought Miles from before the jazz rock, all thoughtful and sparse and gorgeously beautifully toned trumpet with careful harmonies and multiphonics from Matt Keagan beside him and Brett Hirst and Matt McMahon and Simon barker, all renowned for seriousness and virtuosity.  It raised a theme in my mind about mature players, what they do in later years.  It was to be with me with The World and The catholics later.  This was a concert of glorious tone, continuous playing (the tunes ran into each other, attacca), chart reading, thought and depth and satisfaction but, I thought, not too much joy.  And so be it.  Maybe just telling the story of our times...

Hilary Geddes Quartet performed and Phil Slater played Dark Pattern at the inaugural Orange Winter Jazz Festival. Hilary Geddes (guitar) performed with Matthew Harris (piano), Max Alduca (bass) and Alex Inman-Hislop (drums).  Dark Pattern was performed by Phil Slater (trumpet), Matt Keegan (saxophones), Brett Hirst (bass), Matt McMahon (piano) and Simon Barker (drums).

Spain

The theme was obviously Spain and related but I felt it was jazz. This was the Australian Chamber Orchestra and the program was called Sketches of Spain which says Miles to me and a track off Sketches of Spain, Solea, was on the program and so was Chick Corea Spain. But the first half had Iberian references from Debussy and a Ravel take on the Blues, which seemed strange and perhaps a bit unsatisfying even if Ravel was quoted as promoting this "popular music" and its players with their "frightening virtuosity". And there was Boccherini with a tune about the streets of Madrid and Bizet Carmen arranged by Rodion Shchedrin for his dancer wife Maya Pilsetskaya. But the jazz was confirmed in the second half by the presence of jazz literati Matt McMahon, Phil Slater, Brett Hirst and Jess Ciampa and that program of Miles and Chick, joined by a short Ave Maria in 8 parts played by the jazz quartet and four string parts and written by Tomas Luis de Victoria. I'd enjoyed the first half, especially for the Carmen, but I just grooved to the second half. Phil Slater's take on Miles was very satisfying and the Ave Maria was lovely (I like him: I did a de Victoria piece on The Pots Going Viral) but Spain had me blissed out. That fabulous theme, the complex and lengthy arrangement originally performed by CC with the London Symphony to win a Grammy award. I laughed at the string sections passing around and authentic jazz solo (in unison and not improvised obviously) and the rich and often dissonant harmonies in piano and a lovely long bass solo that obviously intrigued the ACO low end and Brett's effective pizz accompaniment and Phil's lines out front. The string accompaniment was a pleasure even if the improv that's at the heart of jazz was missing. But this was crossover and I admire musicians who are daring and exploratory enough to do it and the ACO felt the part. So I ended walking out with a smile on my face. Some classical mates were somewhat nonplussed but I thought it worked and, perhaps only in a jazzer's book, I thought Matt and mates were the heart and authenticity of it all. Not putting down the classical, but jazz and classical are different mediums requiring different skills, the hottest chops and reading in classical and the invention of improv and the feel of a groove in jazz. Different and both worthy but this was jazz territory and Matt and Phil and Brett and Jess blew a storm to my jazz ears. But nice all around and deeply fascinating.

The Australian Chamber Orchestra under Richard Tognetti (director, violin) played Miles Davis and Chick Corea and more at Llewellyn Hall with Matt McMahon (piano), Phil Slater (trumpet), Brett Hirst (bass) and Jess Ciampa (percussion).

Glory in restraint

Jonathan Zwartz was in town for Geoff Page at Smiths and the room was full with Geoff's coterie and the music was to die for. Jonathan is renowned for his writing: three albums to date, superbly written, intriguing, rich and complex, nicely grooving and touching on real social concerns. But it's not just the writing, for the band was also to die for. Was it Geoff or Jonathan who introduced them as amongst the best in Australia? Doesn't matter: they were. So unforced, relaxed, tight, never an accent out of place, every embellishment a pleasure, a fabulous bass tone (a personal interest, but relevant), excellent solos nicely merged into heads. Some amusing banter between tracks, and that's worthy, too: "Being a bass player, you always do everything with one hand. It's a ... drag" (another thing I understand) or "It's kinda that vibe ... singalong it you want". Not that there was any singing to singalong with, but the groove was light and bluesy for that last tune. And generally the styles were varied. Emily was the one swinger, played medium tempo with walking bass, and dedicated to a friend's new child. Dollar Brand was a reference to Abdullah Ibrahim using his early name as the tune was originally called Dollar and "it's kinda that vibe". Milton was a bossa for Nascimento. Julien Wilson's sound of love was in the style of Ellington/Strayhorn and genuinely sounded that way, not least for one lovely, classic repeated turnaround. The tunes were mostly from JZ's latest/third album, Animarum. Phil took most lead and solo roles and blared in classic chordally-enunciated style. Hamish was varied in style and studio-sharp in interpretation. Carl was devastating from rapid runs to blues-rich bending. John joined for the second half: he used to play with these guys in Sydney before coming to Canberra for the ANU. He can be devastating but played fairly restrained and tuneful on this night. Always fabulous, either way. Matt McMahon can take tunes and explore them with rich calculations and investigations although I found him just a little distant on that piano on that night. Jonathan is restrained but big and strong with the greatest of jazz tones and fabulous sense of time and rhythms and grooves and some glorious runs when he lets go. But he remained the overseer and fairly restrained. And the music was just that: purpose before excess; art before skills. One of the best.

Jonathan Zwartz (bass) led his band at Smiths. The band Jonathan with Phil Slater (trumpet), Matt McMahon (piano), Carl Dewhurst (guitar) and Hamish Stuart (drums) and John Mackey (tenor) joined for the second set.

Studio

Chris said it was like listening to a band in a studio and it was. Jonathan Zwartz had brought his sextet to Canberra to play for Geoff Page's series at the Gods and the music was so relaxed and easy but virtuosic, distilled, crystal clear but inventive, exploratory. All the lines just seemed so perfect, so apt, but never trite; perfectly expected after they were played, but wildly inventively conceived before they were played. And with surging rhythms that were busy but settled, malleable but sturdy. Jonathan himself was all over the bass, smiling at the intensity, firmly in the pocket, never losing the essence of the groove, but moving through and around it with wonderful playfulness. Along with long-term drummer offsider, Hamish, rock solid times (he preceded several tunes with a few clave clacks on a metronome to settle the time), intriguing grooves and ready for the non-standard, like one tune played fully with hands not sticks, or one with not a kick amongst it, and the apt changes under solos. Matt was all studied Rhodes intrigue, ringing chords, neat fills and unpretentious solos. And the solos of Ben and the two horns, Michael and Phil, stunned me first up with thei r similarly light, lithe phrasing and varying attacks, in Ben's case, toying with picking and hammer-ons and the like. They played on somewhat that way, immensely discursive and investigative. I was floored by one trumpet solo from Phil, all melody and long, long phrases and chromatics then realised there was more, and under such control, a trumpet that merged imperceptively with tenor, could blat, but would so easily whisper. Not easy on that instrument. And the feel were all so defined, just right. That's also why I thought of the studio, where seasoned players can spell a tune with unrelenting clarity. And also, like a studio, they were playing without rehearsal. When Jonathan was giving instructions before one tune, they joked this was their rehearsal. And the tunes were diverse. They'd started with Seahorse, in triple time, with spritely melody. Then Milton, in honour of Milton Nascimento. Then a ballad called Billy. Then Scando, with a delicious Birth of the Cool-like walk. Then Soul sing, after a Donny Hathaway song. Jonathan commented that times are hard for musos, so "it's like a political statement just to get up and play". But they were enjoying it. Jonathan had a wide smile on his face at their superbly satisfying sounds. Then a second set, starting with a jungle bop and finishing with a pair, one openly beautiful, introduced as "like a hymn", and a bouncy tune to end. It's not often I've heard such precision and distillation of late or perhaps ever. A stunningly impressive outing. Need I say I was in awe.

Jonathan Zwartz (bass) led his sextet comprising Michael Avgenicos (tenor), Phil Slater (trumpet), Ben Hauptmann (guitar), Matt McMahon (Rhodes) and Hamish Stuart (drums) at the Gods.

Suite life

A suite is a big view and not very common in jazz, but Stu Hunter does them. The migration is the third that he's composed and recorded and the first that I've heard on tour. We were lucky enough to catch the final night here in Canberra, after performances as far afield as Perth and as illustrious as the MIJF. The final night mostly has the best awareness of the music and the most delirious pleasure in playing and that's what it seemed to me this night. Not least aided by the Canberra connections, through frequent gigs or teaching or studying at our School of Music in its illustrious past. I assume there's also family here for some of them. I could only admire and wallow in the deep, often minimalist grooves, the sometimes raucous horn parts, the heavy rhythms or detailed drums or essential, busy, feathery e-bass, or Stu's directorial piano segments or Tina's blues-infested voice that stepped through lyrics in three component songs of nine tune/movements. I couldn't catch all the words and these would be essential for the theme; reading them after from the CD cover I'm still not hugely more confident in my interpretation. The migration seems a broad story of life, a "celebration, conversation, a comment and a wish ... my own life process put to music ... questions instead of answers ... movement of ideas and beliefs ... and growth and sharing of culture and ideas". That's a broad palette for the theme. The music was broad too, as well as virtuosic (although no surprise on the virtuosity given the lineup). Bass was core to the work. It started with a wah bass solo then a driving dirty bass with overlying yearning horn themes. Then a heavy groove with Afrobeat horns; a short pensive section; the theme laid out with voice on Twelve stages of freedom. Requiem for belief was a written four part horn tune (including tuba) with drums accompaniment (think Nino Rota). There was a piece outlining flowing water then a piano-heavy ballad speaking of love; an ecstatic blues/funk song with words of moonshine but themed of the joys of life lived. Finally a klezmer-like ending called Land of Gypsies, instrumental and outgoing and open to the world. Nice to see the migration was ultimately well-received by the composer. It was certainly well-received by the audience. I hugely enjoyed the grooves, head-nodding for long passages (there's a lot of music here to dance to), the horns were great, the rhythm section was wondrous, especially Cameron Undy (local origin, now Sydney), very busy on a uniquely lithe bass (short scale Fender Musicmaster with split pickup?), and Simon's insistent drumming, Tina's voice was intimately bluesy and powerful with heavy vibrato. And Julien's bass clarinet, amusingly sometimes sounding of didj, Matt's much restrained solo lines breaking into flurries, James' playful virtuosity on tuba and everything else he touches, Phil's calmly explosive precision, Carl's occasional guitar (I remember just one larger solo this night, mostly lost in the mix to my ears) that can plumb real musical depths, Declan's insistent rhythms that established more than one tune, and Stu's guidance and oversight from the piano stool and sharp solos and penetrating comping. 80 minutes that entranced and involved and passed with ease. In the wake of the like of Mingus and Carla Bley, Stu Hanter has produced his third large format compostion and it was a wonderful, engaging success.

Stu Hunter (piano, composer) led the band in performing his suite, The migration, at the Street Theatre. The band was Stu with Phil Slater (trumpet), Matt Keegan (saxes, clarinet), Julien Wilson (saxes, clarinet), James Greening (trombone, pocket trumpet, tuba), Carl Dewhurst (guitar), Cameron Undy (bass), Simon Barker (drums, percussion), Declan Kelly (percussion, drums), Tina Harrod (vocals).

Doyens

Jonathan Zwartz used the word to describe his band, that they were doyens of the Australian jazz scene. No doubt! This was a display of such excellence and skills. I was flabbergasted. There were time I sat back in wonder. The music was composed and structured, although not so complex. The harmonies from the front line horns may move with tiny steps, minimally. what that did at times.
Or they could site with whale calls or breathing but never forced of uncomfortable. There were solos and they glowed, but what I noticed was that they never jarred. Every line was just right, whether blaring with notes or just laying out a substitute melody. These guys all played together frequently, I guess, in different incarnations, but this was more: intonation, intent, interplay always just so right. And this band could just sit. It's actually hard to just sit with purposes. It can seem uninteresting or unresponsive but this glowed because it just sat when it should, never jarring although maybe playing madly with tension. Some drum fills just went on forever and welled with tension and its release. Then the piano would drop chords of unwavering precision. But then all this was just that: unwavering precision with taste to embellish. There were solos but this was more the compositions than the solos to my ears. The sustained perfection, the lengthy crescendoes and endless last fade were like a recording although with the immediacy of live music. It may come from the goodwill: Jonathan was smiling lots and the others too. Or from the seriousness of the compositions: all had a story behind them, of family or feelings. There were varied influences: everyone mentioned Bitches Brew for one tune where the horns explored seemingly free and there was a Donny Hathaway soul tribute with a blistering guitar solo that moved through free and screams. There were some ballads that had trumpet speaking with delicacy and another with a delicious combination of trombone and bass clarinet. And another that was free over a sustained but malleable bowed bass ostinato. This is about as good as it gets, Australian or otherwise. Music that's wise and emotionally informed played by doyens of the art. Spectacular. Gasps are in order.

Jonathan Zwartz (bass) led a sextet with Phil Slater (trumpet), Richard Maegraith (tenor, bass clarinet), James Greening (trombone), Matt McMahon (Rhodes piano), Carl Dewhurst (guitar) and Tim Firth (drums).

Sea breezes

The Sea is Jonathan Zwartz’s recent album. It was also the first tune when Jonathan Zwartz presented his sextet at the Gods. I’d been awaiting this concert. Jonathon is a wonderful bassist who has impressed whenever I’ve seen him; playing a strong and muscular bass with John Mackey at Jazz Uncovered 2010 and an insightful and tender one with Tina Harrod sometime earlier. His performance of The Sea got great reviews at Wangaratta, so this gig was anticipated. The Sea was the first tune. Mystical and minimal with (German) bowed double bass setting a gentle ostinato background and the horns blowing and squealing and seagull wheeling up front. I looked around and people were mesmerised. So was I. Somewhat to my surprise it didn’t stay this way, despite John Shand’s mentions of minimalism. There were just six other tunes over the two sets but they were generously long. Several were slow with plaintive melodies, but there were also grooves that were rich and steady (one reminded me of Herbie’s Headhunters) and a finale that channelled Mingus with an intensity and ornery-ness that was the closest I’ve come to the great man. There was minimalism but more than that there was solidity and presence and sheer capability that oozed from a mature group of musicians at the top of their craft. The way a groove would sit for a few seconds, busy with lots happening but also supremely relaxed, before the simplest of lines stated a theme for a solo. This is what masters do and this was masterful. James Greening entered his solo that way, and I was thinking of him. Simple statements that became clear solos, developing and moving, all structured with visually lyrical thought, and being James, with humour and quirkiness and audience contact. Phil Slater was different in style: a formal presence but with rabid speed flying over structures with virtuosity and density and a pitch that was slippery and precarious, colouring the tune with consonance and dissonance alike. Richard Maegraith was initially the considered search: a few full tones seeking perfect notes to follow, slow and intent, especially on the bass clarinet. But at other times, often on tenor, he was most harmonically challenging, breaking into dissonant sheets of notes. Matt McMahon was clear concentration, his Rhodes piano fitting perfectly in this sound, calmly concentrated, defining and enriching grooves when comping and, in solos, wildly moving themes and bars and harmonies with uncluttered but incongruous lines. He’s a unique voice, intensely demanding but quizzically satisfying. As the night wore on, I was closer to Hamish Stewart and noting his easy and flowing but busy style. His grooves were to die for, relaxed but full and interesting. Lovely. And Jonathan. He was leader and composer of most tunes: soulful tunes with grooves that were settled, strong and rich. There were some smiles later in the night, but plenty of strained concentration and Mingus-like supportive yelps and grunts. He played two strong solos, but the night was really moody grooves, richly embellished but reliably steady. The quieter tunes were The Sea, a tone picture with wailing gulls and sea breezes, and two slow but melodic pieces: Epic and the touching Icelandic which told of the experience of a stroke. Icelandic was memorable for some delicious timing and gentle hits that sat in time so correctly. Curtis was an obvious dedication to soul-singer Curtis Mayfield and highlighted one stylistic influence. Science experiment was a blowing tune with Headhunters grooves. The Mingus tune was Wednesday Night Prayer Meeting, a boisterous blues that finished off the night. Jonathon invited local student Matt Handel to sit in on alto for this one. A great and memorable concert. Jonathan Zwartz (bass) led a sextet with James Greening (trombone), Richard Maegraith (bass clarinet, tenor sax), Phil Slater (trumpet), Matt McMahon (Rhodes) and Hamish Stuart (drums). Matt Handel (alto sax) sat in for the last tune.

Cyberhalides Jazz Photos by Brian Stewart