Songs of lament and reflection

They advise The Elegy Project is "a contemporary chamber music ensemble blending classical, jazz and folk".  It's strange, yes, but beautiful and deeply satisfying.  Think a vocal dectet (a nonet on this day) singing Megan Washington or Lonely woman by Horace Silver and Leonard Feather, or a solo pianist playing Rachmaninov or Chopin's famous Funeral march then joined by the choir, or Joni Mitchell Both sides now, a key song of the '70s, played by a jazz quartet (on this day a trio of piano, bass, vocals).  This is a new group, directed on the day by Kimberley Steele with a string of renowned locals.  It's not a small chamber group given 13 names are listed, but a fascinatingly broadminded and exploratory combination.  Full marks for the mix of musics.  And there were some seriously satisfying performances, too.  Kimberley on solo classical piano and voice; Rachael on jazz vocals, deeply effective and emotive, and also joining in the choir; Chris just that fabulous bassist that he is, but then picking up a Telecaster to back the choir on one tune; Micah impressively spelling tunes and improvising, unhurried and purposeful, on a much nicer piano than I'd heard him on recently.  And the choir, some lovely voices, well intoned on some challenging and well arranged harmonies.  Gus is the drummer to come and he can only add.  I was taken deeply by this concert, the breadth and emotional expression of it all.  Fabulous and still very new.  If you read this post promptly, perhaps you can catch them at Wesley 3pm Sat 13 or All Saints 3pm Sun 14 June.

The Elegy Project performed at Wesley and comprise Kimberley Steele (piano, musical director), Chris Pound (bass, guitar, synth, director), Rachael Thoms (vocalist), Micah Knight (piano), Angus Henderson-Mack (Gus Henderson, drums), Emma Griffiths (soprano), Petta Lindsay and Neille Williams (altos), Oliver Bruhl and Cody Christopher (tenors), Martin Magill, Lachlan Rankin and Daniel Westbury (basses).

Maynard's original hipsters

Rachael Thoms' dedication was to the original hipsters, the jazz musicians and hip followers from the time of '40s Bebop through to '60s cool, one radical musical stream of their age. Rach's introductory spiel for the show says it best: "These cats talked the talk and walked the walk. They were laid-back, sarcastic, sexually open and partial to the old ‘Green Badger’. They were ‘hot stuff’, ‘mad mellow’, and ‘out of this world’. Their shoes were ‘kicks’; and their teeth were ‘crumb crunchers’. Boys were ‘groovy’ and girls were ‘fly’ … The pioneers, the nerds, the weirdos, the trailblazers, the vanguards, the masters." Perfect. Rach gave us the words of the hipsters themselves, witty or profound, eminently quotable, and their music, their ultimate expression. The selected hipsters were Monk, Benny Golson, Dave Brubeck, Bill Evans, Bob Dorough and Miles. Every tune was sung, often with lyrics added later by jazz vocalese singers. Famed tunes like Round midnight, Take 5 and Devil may care; slightly lesser known masterpieces like Nardis and Whisper not; some common blow calls like Well you needn't and Blue Monk; profound numbers like Waltz for Debby and Blue and green; and the inevitably amusing ones like Too close for comfort ("One thing leads to another / too late, to duck for cover / too close, too close for comfort / now" with that ambiguous final word). And this was about the best band in town that I could imagine playing this light and tight, lyrical music with such deceptive ease: Rachael with her classical chops and jazz sensibility; Lachlan so clean and precise (Rachael's "human metronome"); Chris understated and ever aware; James accompanying then soloing with huge, unbasslike lyricism. These tunes can sound old and overworked but this was fresh, vibrant, crystalline. I was refreshed by the pleasure of the standard repertoire but I shouldn't be surprised given the band. Maynard G Krebs would have claimed Monk as the original hipster, and so might some others, but they were all geniuses, at least near enough for jazz.

Rachael Thoms (vocals) led a quartet comprising Lachlan Coventry (guitar), James Luke (bass) and Chris Thwaite (drums) at Smiths.

At Grad

It's all very exciting as son no. 1 Julian and girlfriend Deb graduate from ANU (Arts/Law Hons) but CJ must find an arty angle for a post. There was music inside. Rachael Thoms (soprano) and Calvin Bowman (organ) did the national anthem (dirge that it is) and Calvin played some other accompaniment. Sorry, no pics. Anthony Smith (piano) and Helena Popovic (violin) played Tchaikovsky Meditation. It was played nicely enough although I felt it was overly long and intrusive in this context. A trio provided post-ceremony jazz to accompany bubblies and beer. Our trio was Andrej Thomson (tenor), Brendan Keller-Tuborg (bass) and Alec Brinsmead (drums). I mostly caught solos from Brendan and they were impressive. He's a nice player. But otherwise, I was thinking of other things. A big day to mark years of work and a source of great pride for parent and visiting nanna. Excuse the indulgence of some family pics.  Congrats to Jules; Richard next.

Performers at the ANU College of Law graduation ceremony were Rachael Thoms (soprano), Calvin Bowman (organ), Anthony Smith (piano), Helena Popovic (vioiln), Andrej Thomson (tenor), Brendan Keller-Tuberg (bass) and Alec Brinsmead (drums).

The past to hear now

There was nothing new to this gig, of course, other than that we'd never visited the Swiss Ambassador's residence before. But I enjoyed it immensely. Partly because the music was the standards, old and last century but timeless. It was set up like a concert, with rows of seats and the band out front, under lights which were dimmed for a much better atmosphere. It's a formal layout even if the atmosphere was fairly relaxed. I was interested that a string of people were tapping feet even if staring concert-like at the band. There were others who didn't move a jot and I wondered if this was all before their time or outside their experience. I dreaded there was maybe an age-component to the foot tapping. The band did a great job: relaxed, playing carefully, tastefully and nicely cool. Rachel's voice was not-unexpectedly controlled and rich in interpretation and subtle play. Lachlan was on guitar (I usually see him playing bass these days) and this was expressive with clear melody and limited flourish. Simon's bass was great, especially some nicely spelled solos, and Chris was a welcome return (I haven't heard him for some time) with careful detail and light touch. And those tunes! Some obvious but also some lesser known and some delightfully playful: Doodlin' and Centerpiece are clever and twisted in performance and humour; Honeysuckle Rose is just delightful; Just squeeze me and Love for sale and Do nothing till you hear from me are intentionally mischievous historical gems; The nearness of you is a favourite ballad of mine; there were a few others. These guys do the standards with the touch of the period, serious and well played but with the musical smile they deserve. Lovely.

The Here and Now comprised Rachael Thoms (vocals), Lachlan Coventry (guitar), Simon Milman (bass) and Chris Thwaite (drums). They played a gig at the Swiss Ambassador's residence. Thanks to Ambassador HE Mr Marcel Stutz.

Here hear

I've probably written this very report before when I last heard Rachael and her mates performing standards at Smiths. They are called The Here [not Hear] and Now now, and I think the name is new, but the playing and the songs aren't. That's their strength. These are some of Canberra's best, most seasoned, most busy performers and they have played innumerable times together and here they return to the roots and it's a huge pleasure, for band and audience. This is fabulously relaxed despite underlying energy; tasteful with ever-apt interpretation. Some of Canberra's political visitors falsely claim to be adults, but these guys exude musical maturity through depth of perception and communicative ability. This is laid back. It's quiet: there's nothing to hide; nowhere to escape. It's sweet, unassuming and just plain right. Lovely ballads like Nearness of you of Shadow of you smile or Meaning of the blues; playful and accomplished like Centrepiece; light and joyous like Sunny side of the street or Squeeze me don't tease me. Even Flame trees, a dedication to Cold Chisel who were playing in town that night. And Afro Blue for the more adventurous. All so neat, so comfortable as a visit to selected standards. James excelled with his easy but richly melodic solos. Mark was unobtrusive but masterful. I was amused by his swapped fours with Rachael's scat; that's not a common pairing but it worked a treat. Lachlan was part of the duo with Rachael that's at the centre of this band. He touched on Bass VI and loops and a guitar ukelele (a little six-string that looks like a classical guitar but tuned up a fourth) but mostly played neat and a very thoughtful telecaster lines. Rachael was the heart and soul, voice and meaning, patter and laughter. She's so trained, so correct, so in control; what a pleasure. How nice all this is! Standards played by musos with the ability to share the stories. There should be more of it.

The Here and Now were Rachael Thoms (vocals), Lachlan Coventry (guitar, e-bass, guitar uke, harmony vocals), James Luke (bass) and Mark Sutton (drums) and they played at Smiths.

One for the band

It was the same band, just without a singer (other than Rachael who sang one song). This was the teachers at the School of Music, the local aristocracy of jazz, and they were playing their compositions and a few favourites and it was great. Mike, Miro, Wayne, Mark and new bassist Alec were playing a storm. Right from the start, the tunes were friends. There were two from the Wanderlust stable: Delicatessence and Bronte Cafe, both immensely attractive and infectious. Miro also offered another, Happy world, a new composition seeking a happier place than the current distressing daily news. [I can understand: it's strange how friends and acquaintances volunteer a feeling of despondency these days, but that's for another blog]. I thought of his Peace please; it's another Miro masterpiece that speaks to our common humanity. Then Mike with several of his originals: Standard time and Young guns (he joked of renaming this to Old diggers, given the nature of the tune and that the young guns are now playing Radiohead and the like, rather than the jazz changes), and a lengthy exploration called Contessa Sabra Dalziel (?). Wayne offered a catchy hard bopper called Optimism. Rachael sat in during the second set with a take on the Billie Holliday's heartbreaking ballad, Crazy he calls me ("Like the wind that shakes the bough / He moves me with a smile / The difficult I'll do right now / The impossible will take a little while"). Mike also offered a favourite standard, I'll remember April, and Kenny Wheeler's Kind folk and a blues he'd transcribed that he called Emily's blues. The playing was first-rate. Wayne excited with his broad concepts; Mike's guitar was sharp and genuine and often thrilling in solos; Mark just held it all together and Alec was certain and obviously enjoying the outing. Nice to see some broad smiles and rhythm section mobility on Wanderlust grooves and more. Miro was purposeful and strong and gloriously melodious. Especially during Rachael's ballad, I noticed some wonderful fills but also how Wayne and Mike and Miro didn't step on toes, presumably from time together, but also from just plain class. One friend hadn't come the night before - he steers clear of vocals - but I thoroughly enjoyed them both. Two excellent nights from the best locals.
Mike Price (guitar), Miroslav Bukovsky (trumpet, flugelhorn), Wayne Kelly (piano), Alec Hunter (bass) and Mark Sutton (drums) performed in the Band Room for the ANU School of Music Winter Jazz Week. Rachael Thoms (vocals) sat in for one number.

Pre-dinner drinks

Rachel Thoms was singing with Paul dal Broi at the National Press Club and they are two of my favourite local performers. The NPC is a bar event so there's chatter at the end of the workweek and some dancing and the rest, but there's also a grand piano and a corner and weekly performances of the best around town. We heard a range standards sung with grace and ability. To my ears, Paul was unusually adventurous. I love his take on harmony - he can convert the most plebian of songs into performances of worth. Here he was busy and playful with all manner of variations, rhythmic, harmonic, stylistic, and it was an eyeopener. Rachel is never other than wonderfully controlled in voice, dropping into slurs and vibrato at will and always aptly, with that clear and firm soprano voice. This is just a note, but also a reminder that NPC has our most capable local jazz performers playing each Friday 6-8pm (and blues on Thursdays). Free entry for members and friends.

Rachael Thoms (vocal) and Paul dal Broi (piano) performed at the National Press Club.

The very fringe of squaredom

In recent days, Father Fintan Monaghan said "I suppose we can't really judge the past from our point of view, from our lens". Given he was explaining away the discarding of 796 babies in a cesspitt, and in the pretty recent past, it's an unfortunate and morally erroneous statement*. So I've been wondering about The Fringe of Squaredom. It's the name of the band that played at Smiths this week. It's also a colourful description in Time magazine of the album performed by that band. The album is Nancy Wilson / Cannonball Adderley from 1961. Certainly Happy talk, that jaunty song from the musical South Pacific could be labelled square. I don't feel that about Never will I marry, though. It's got nicely contorted changes and it's a favourite of mine. Perhaps this mix of pleasurable and pretty deep swing is out-of-place after 50s cool and as 60s free is gathering pace and Coltrane is being spiritual and Miles is venturing further afield. History is fascinating and ever open for interpretation, and what an image that is: the fringe of squaredom.

The band was led by Rachael Thoms and Tom Fell as Nancy and Cannonball. Tom is tenor rather than Cannonball's alto, but close enough. The rest of the band was local notoriety. Rachael is just superbly in control of her voice and such a pleasure. I just melt as she holds a note then releases a swelling vibrato. She's a joyous and infectious presence and the technical facility just makes the cake. It's my first jazz hearing for Alec, recently imported bass teacher at the ANU Music School. To my ear, he loves a heavy beat and hard-blown swing and plays it with a firm pizzicato and strong sound. That may be just for this album; I've seen him playing much more experimental bass and viola da gamba, too. Brendan Magee was new to me. He's apparently brought his trombone out from storage only recently. He did a nicely tight job in section work and took quietly spoken solos. Tom was up front, playing the part of a swinging Cannonball with verve but an evident seriousness. Nice. Wayne was a natural. Every solo speaking with authority and inevitability and playing through a range of styles. The solo on Happy talk was pure McCoy Tyner so hardly square. Same with Mark; enough said that he's a master with his roiling grooves and brilliant snaps. What a great and pleasurable night. If this is square, bring it on.

The Fringe of Squaredom are Rachael Thoms (vocals), Tom Fell (tenor), Brendan Magee (trombone), Wayne Kelly (piano), Alec Hunter (bass) and Mark Sutton (drums).

*As for history, I wonder that anyone can grow more conservative with age. It seems to me that if you stay informed, maintain your ethics and don't go to sleep, you can only grow more radical, and for me that's to the left, not the right as is common and too noisy these days: maturing as a process of removing blinkers. If you haven't heard of the mass grave of 796 babies at a Catholic Irish nuns' mothers and babies home, read this and despair.

Balladic icons

It was called Icons and the songs certainly were. This was a group of singers from the ANU School of Music performing pop songs: five women and one man. Tate Sheridan was the man, and at one stage he argued for the depth of the popular song, being about love and life. I can easily agree, at least with this set of songs, but then they are the cream of the cream: Elton John, Dylan, Leonard Cohen, Beatles, Joni Mitchell, Stevie Wonder, Kate Bush (who is more visible again recently, and must have been a challenge and fascination for these women). They sang 19 songs over two sets in Biginelli's Cafe, upstairs in the School of Music. This was civilised with cafe tables and provided with antipasto, and it was generous. I was not surprised by the age of the attendees (the performers were younger) and the music fitted. These were great songs, no doubt, but also none too recent. No grunge here, let alone hip-hop. These were also overwhelmingly ballads with overt seriousness. Perhaps too serious rather than entertaining. I'm more worried about climate change and the recent budget than love stories, but then I'm a bloke and past a time of hormones. There were some wonderful harmonies to such special songs. There were arrangements, some digging deeper into introversion. I loved the Kate Bush by both Rachael Thoms and Bec Taylor. Rachael especially had me poring over every controlled note and liquid vibrato and precise embellishment in Wuthering Heights. It shows that she's the teacher here, opera trained and an older (but not old) woman with a mature voice. They tell me that singers' voices improve with age and it's not just a matter of technique and experience. Not just that, though. She's jazz trained and was playful and daring when she performed a version of Come together with loops for bass and drums and harmonies and used effects for an authentic guitar solo. Fun and astonishing and obviously new for many in the crowd. [Hint: TC Helicon]. I loved Tate's commitment and unexpectedly decent voice and his dissonances and flexibility on piano. Seriously good. When he was playing Your song, I was reminded how the best musicians can just play the tune with all the right lines and chords and feels. Weaker musicians twist tunes because that's what they know. Tate was just spot on. Ben Taylor is a local star of the Canberra Musicians Club but I've heard her too little. I enjoyed her professionalism and presence and some decent piano and voice, and particularly admired her take on Babooshka. She did Joni Mitchell's Woodstock, too, and this was apt. Kirrah Amosa, Jacqui Douglas and Amy Jenkins perform as a trio called Kaleid (pronounced as in collide) and it was obvious that they'd played together a bit. These are quite different voices. Kirrah's is deep and powered, Jacqui higher and Amy in the stars and it works nicely together. Kirrah also accompanies on guitar and Jacqui on piano. As Kaleid they performed Carole King's Natural woman, but they also supported each other otherwise. The final song was Let it be, and everyone was up and we could sing along and wave electronic candles and that was fun. It was pretty serious stuff for an older bloke, but it certainly was a wonderful collection of songs which most of the audience remembered from their first releases and there were some great performances to convey them. Much enjoyed and would gladly do this over. Then it ended and Tate ran off, with me in hot pursuit...

Icons was a celebration of the great singer / songwriters of our time, performed by Tate Sheridan (piano, vocals), Jacqui Douglas (piano, vocals), Amy Jenkins (piano, vocals), Kirrah Amosa (guitar, vocals), Bec Taylor (piano, vocals) and Rachael Thoms (piano, vocals). Kirrah, Jacqui and Amy also performed as Kaleid.

Thanks to our friends

The ANU put on a big free show last year when it was under the hammer and they returned with another this year. The intention is different, presumably to showcase the continued existence and success of the School, but the context of massive change at the School is the same. Head of School, Peter Tregear, introduced this year’s concert as a gift to the Canberra Community and friends and he plans to make this an annual free gig. Great. The School of Music clearly has many supporters in Canberra. Many were horribly disappointed by changes last year, but Peter and others have been working valiantly to rebuild the School and they need the support of friends.

This was another mix of styles and ensembles, if not the extended potpourri of last year’s event. First was DRUMatix with soloist Sean Connaughton performing David Mancini’s Suite for solo drumset and percussion ensemble. How can you not love this? Infectious grooves, intervallic rubatos, rich tapestries of tone and even harmony and melody from the vibes and marimbas. And tubular bells, various latin percussions and timpanis. This was all convincingly performed, joyous and infusive, and Sean’s drum solo was interesting and of a nice length and surprisingly rocky in this classical percussion context, but that’s the nature of a group like this. DRUMatix presents a catholic array of sounds and rhythms. I’m sold. Then a welcome to country. Then the Jazz Ensemble playing an arrangement of Stolen Moments by Miro and Miro’s For Woody. These are two great tunes. Stolen moments was a surprise with a few added bars which stretch and settle this already cool tune. It was good to hear John’s tenor again and El’s violin (which is ever more satisfying) and guitar hidden in the back row. For Woody is a burner and the solos were shared widely: tenor and violin again, then trumpet, alto, drums, percussion. I don’t find Llewellyn is a generous acoustic for jazz, but this was enlivened and harmonically sweet in the heads. Nice.

The fine music followed the interval. The ANU Chamber Orchestra played and the ANU Chamber Choir sang under Peter Tregear’s baton. Calvin Bowman joined them for sinfonia and chorus from Bach’s Wir danken dir, Gott, BWV29. This is classic Bach oratorio material. Peter Tregear introduced it as written for the inauguration of the Leipzig Town hall and lamented our current alternatives. It didn’t seem hugely complex but it’s totally satisfying. I found strings and organ a bit unbalanced and the instrumentals somewhat lost in this large space, but it grew as the voices joined in. Bach is nothing but a pleasure. Then Handel’s Ode to Saint Cecilia’s Day, HWV76. Saint Cecilia is the patron saint of music, so this was also an ode to music. It was performed by Chamber Orchestra and Choir with singers Rachael Thoms (soprano) and Paul McMahon (tenor) and instrumentalists Rachel Beesley (orchestra leader), Virginia Taylor (flute) and Julia Janiszewski (cello). Handel combined text from Dryden with his dignified and sometimes majestic orchestration. This is a larger piece with numerous movements, variously dance-like, expectant, undemonstrative, joyous, stately, majestic, in three and four. Nicely done and especially involving at the end.

It’s been a very demanding year for the staff of the School of Music, even if it was quiet one in public. I’m hoping for a more publicly visible school over coming years. Ode to Music was performed by staff and students of the ANU School of Music. Performers were DRUMatix, ANU Jazz Ensemble, ANU Chamber Orchestra, ANU Chamber Choir, Calvin Bowman (organ), Rachael Thoms (soprano), Paul McMahon (tenor), Rachael Beesley (orchestra leader), Virginia Taylor (flute) and Julia Janiszewski (cello) led by Peter Tregear.

Hiding amongst the bustle

There’s a bustle of people before an orchestral rehearsal. It seems a whirlwind to a jazzer who’s used to quartets and quintets. We were at the Albert Hall for a rehearsal of Bach cantatas to be performed for the Canberra International Music Festival. We are billeting one of the viola players and driving a cellist so we had entré. I was amused by the busyness and the activity, but then the music pulled me up as I was writing this. Bach cantatas are superbly beautiful, dignified and majestic. It wasn’t sounding so sharp and the horns sounded a bit cold, but the glory shines through. This is a reading gig, of course. The practice doesn’t repeat choruses. This is lengthy runs of bars, then stops for advice from the conductor, then perhaps comments from the singers. These are mature players so there was discussion, expansion on themes to clarify understanding. Perhaps some questions on stage layout. Twenty players and eight singers, all sitting as discussions continue. Some were injecting comments and suggestions. I guess, like a captain, the conductor directs, but this seemed pretty chummy and collegiate. Then back to Bach’s perfect balance.

A bit later I realise the other side of the bustle is the need for patience. It takes time for groups of people to do things. Conductor Roland Peelmann moves the singers and players around: singers in pairs, up front and in the wings; the trumpets standing behind; the strings spread out and pulled back. The playing is still relaxed and a little rough. Feeling out the band. This is the necessary, preliminary business, not the performance. Casual. T-shirts not skirts, although there’s still some black. There’s a fair bit of time spent just sitting around. Then back again, singers to a row behind, back to standard configuration. Then a line of classic Bach and it’s sounding great. What’s the change? This has livened. It’s more challenging, perhaps more practised at home. Rolling swells of strings, then counter-tenor and gathered voices. These are only eight singers – not a choir – but they are four clear lines.

“No French ballads: da da da DA”. So said Roland when the baroque lost just a little of its formal elegance. This is not music to emote even if it’s of great grace. There’s intellectual rigour and protestant propriety here: masterful and ordered. I doubt he’d present this way on stage, but Roland is a physical and profoundly spelling out the piece.

It goes on like this. Two hours, no stop. The orchestra gradually settling into a whole. There were some terrific individual performances. The singers were wonderful. Max McBride was rock solid as sole bass. Paul Goodchild excelled on the piccolo trumpet and got some gentle applause from his colleagues. Then the larger orchestra ends to give way to a delightful quintet, but before the orchestra leaves the stage, Roland has another gem about Bach: “Did you notice? It finishes on a chord with three sharps … three crosses. Bach’s never short on symbolism”. How much can there be in this music? I’m floored.

Roland Peelman (conductor) was rehearsing the Song Company with guests Rachael Thoms (alto), Tobias Cole (counter-tenor) and Andrew Goodwin (tenor), and the Canberra Festival Camerata with Calvin Bowman (chamber organ) and Clare Tunney (continuo cello).