Great players on a great day

I caught Trio Klein Ahnung in Sydney, at Lazy Bones in Marrickville after missing their gig at Molly's in Canberra. They were a fabulously modern, lithe, expressive band, understated at times, explosive at others, all powerful musicians in their own rights but all ready to lay low when the music called. I chatted after the gig with some of the Canberra contingent, now mostly out of town, in Sydney or even as far off as Berlin. Brian Blade and ambience were mentioned as similar or stylistically influential. Yes, but. Carl is so strong and, being the guitar, the front liner in a guitar trio and he was the patter of the band on stage. I heard current Manhattan guitar but wasn't sure which one. A quick survey identified Kurt Rosenwinkel as the closest to my ear. Strong and defined notes, devastating runs, softly overdriven with some reverb or echo or both (my guess). Sam was at his expressive best, often understated, hugely expressive in lines and just nicely explosive with his own devastating runs, just sometimes. Raj was hugely understated, soft and delicate, taking just a few solos, demanding us to listen carefully to follow his delicacy. They were releasing a CD on this tour with some tracks including Sean Wayland. So this is Aussies in the world: NYC, Berlin and home. Suffice to say I was enamoured by the gig in Marrickville. They played tunes from the album but also a few standards: How deep the ocean and Without a song. I tried to count How deep... at Marrickville but failed. I noted "oddly timed", thinking they'd changed time signatures from the swung 4/4. So what a surprise when I saw a video of this same tune from the Molly gig and hearing it as a clear four. My guess is this was time implied, held in the musicians' minds but far from clearly stated, rather than formally rewritten passages. I feel it in our trio at its best, usually when we're playing pretty frequently. Time dissolves but doesn't: it's there but not evident; ready to resolve occasionally. What appeared as time rehashed was an improvised interaction. Wonderful, exemplary and a statement of the contemporary in jazz. At least to my ears. (Carl, have I got it right?) So, a great gig at a lovely, dark, seductive venue (worth a visit for the design ambience alone). Thankfully, I didn't miss this one. BTW, klein ahnung translates as "little idea".

Trio Klein Ahnung are Carl Morgan (guitar), Sam Anning (bass) and Rajiv Jayaweera (drums). They performed at Lazy Bones, Marrickville (and Molly's) while touring their new album.

No fixed pitch

At one stage, Gian Slater commented on U.nlock, her band with Shannon Barnett, Sam Anning and Rajiv Jayaweera, as being a challenge because there were no instruments of fixed pitch. U.nlock is vocal, tromone, acoustic bass and drums, so hitting the right pitch takes good ears and technique. I didn’t hear it as a problem, though, and Gian joked that it wasn’t “95% of the time”. This is also an open-sounding band with no chordal instruments. They did it all with skill and accuracy and considerable panache. I was drooling over trom harmonies below Gian’s soprano voice. I loved the solo bass and the modern take on scat that used sidestepping and sequences and clever dissonancne like any contemporary sax.
I was stunned by some trom solos, that fat raspy tenor tone, sometime staccato, only once somewhat flourished, but always definite in chordal relationships and pitch. Not that this was too mainstream. The trom and bass could be deliciously independent of chord tones and tonal centres when they chose to be, moving very freely against or over the changes. Alone together is a tune that I regularly practice but I didn’t recognise the opeining bass solo and only just picked up the tune from the liberally arranged head. Contemporary jazz can stray very far from the underlying tune; jazz is now a very evolved art. Noone got lost, at least amongst the band. They played some originals by Gian and originals and arrangements by Shannon and a series of standards. These are old friends from teritiary training in Melbourne and they were getting together a tour of Wangaratta, 505 and more. It’s a return for Shannon, Sam and Raj who have been in NYC for several years. They were reading charts for the originals but it all sat easily. Raj is an undemonstrative drummer but clear and firm and steady. Shannon also had me thinking of how each instrument, or perhaps each group of instruments, has its own patterns, phrases, lines that sit easily. Her solos were not solos of sax, although she was fronting the same tunes. Similarly, hers were nothing like Sam’s bass solos. As guitar and keys solos are not like either. Both played clearly defined ideas of intelligence and responsiveness, but each was different. As were Gian’s solos, which were perhaps more like keys, sequences of scalar snippets, but with delicacy of tone and some everests of pitch, that were nothing like the earthy tone of the trom. All interesting, exploratory and quite a unique combination with some exceptional musicianship. Bring on more of that NYC vibe. U.nlock comprised Gian Slater (vocals), Shannon Barnett (trombone), Sam Anning (bass) and Rajiv Jayaweera (drums).

On the count … 1,2,7

Quinsin Nachoff played some very demanding and difficult music at the Gods for its first international concert. I found it hard work until I closed my eyes and went with it. So did the players, who were new to it and obviously counting and reading dots and difficult structures. The band was touring before leading up to an appearance at the Melbourne Jazz Festival which seems a great idea given the complexity of the music. Brenton spoke afterwards of Schoenberg and of narrow and discordant harmonies that need care and readiness to carry off. Geoff heard hints of Albert Ayler in Quinsin’s upper register. Certainly the players were up to it. Peter Knight was a revelation on trumpet, reading the most difficult intervals and times and soloing with lovely tone (even old-style at one stage with a plunger mute) and easy style. Marc Hannaford also did a great job, including covering the bass on left hand. I thought the band would have benefitted from a true bass player: the sound would have been more full and the rhythms more articulated and developed. But poor Marc had a big job with bass and soloing given this difficult music and he did it wonderfully well, concentrating hard on charts and playing lines that sat sweetly and with little dissonance. I was amused to see Raj Jayaweera mouthing the count at times; the music was like that. He had a lovely touch that drew a very solid tone from his borrowed Gretch kit while playing fairly understated but effective accompaniment and solos. I heard Quinsin’s soloing as varied. Sometimes intellectual and technical, with long lines that passed in sequences up and down the tenor’s range, and other times more melodic but with longer, more challenging intervals. His compositions were detailed: changing times, big intervals, odd syncopations, some lovely and quite unusual ballads. I was interested in some classical allusions, especially Sisyphus. In Greek mythology, Sisyphus rolled a rock up and down a hill, and the music did the same, doubling time several times from slow to frantic and back again then doing this again and again: an interesting exercise and a worthy tune. The night was like that. Difficult, demanding music for both performers and audience: cerebral but satisfying when you took it in. Not easy, but listening back to my recording as I write this, a very satisfying modern outing with some impressive playing.

Quinsin Nachoff (tenor, composer) led the Australian Forward Motion quartet with Peter Knight (trumpet), Marc Hannaford (piano) and Rajiv Jayaweera (drums).

Bundle of joy

These are the local joys that visitors only happen on, or get invited to. I’d talked to Rajiv Jayaweera the night before, at Paris Cat, and he invited me to a beer garden gig with Ben Hauptmann at Brunswick Green on Sydney Road. I was interested. Guitar and drums, no bass, with a favourite guitarist. And it was bliss. I only caught 30-minutes, but this was great. Coopers on tap; a vibrant beer garden scene in a cosmopolitan area; wonderfully threatening weather; Ben’s richly looped guitar/s, two, three, four layers with crisp or overdriven solos blaring away on top, and a joyous communication with Raj. Lots of smiles; plenty of indulgent playing that was bliss to anyone who bothered to listen. I like a listening environment, but I also like quality background music where players are a bit self-indulgent, playing to their wishes and inevitably to their strengths. I was just reading something on this in extempore. A muso was describing how his best playing is often that when he most seems to be ignoring the audience. Now, musos can be lazy, ignoring the audience and also their playing. But this was one of those good gigs, where the musos play for themselves and incidentally for the public and it’s great. Twangy, screaming, swinging, whatever, this was played true to style, simply correct, easy and unforced, masterfully. A wonderful outing. What tunes? It finished with C-jam blues, that simple but masterful melody that appeared several loops into the tune to smiles on my part. Other tunes were more chordally complex and with that Hauptmann rockabilly presence, so presumably originals. Whatever, it was a small bundle but a stork-like bringer of joy.

Ben Hauptmann (guitar, loops) played with Rajiv Jayaweera (drums) at the Brunswick Green.

Of an era

I’m surprised at my reaction to Mark Fitzgibbon and his quartet last night at Melbourne’s Paris Cat. This was the opening night for 2011 for Paris Cat (Bennett’s Lane and Uptown and Dizzy’s are still closed). The place was packed with perhaps 90 people and standing room only. It was hot and sweaty, and the first tune was Hot house and it was steaming. I felt like we were in a period piece: authentic, but also somewhat removed. The club’s ambience is of an era: dark, brooding, Picasso-modern. The volume was restrained, not contemporary in-your-face but acoustic-like: good for the ear drums, but also less involving. The audience was large, but one that streams out at the last tune.

Certainly Charlie Parker's Hot house placed the band, and they played it with comfort, and Dave Rex, the alto player, with abandon. His playing sat so well with the bop style, running the chords with ease, then weaving and turning with extravagant contortions and falling to tritones. Rhythm section, Rajiv Jayaweera and Tom Lee, were comfortable and solid. Tom’s tone is soft and clear and his is playing cool and considered. The flourishes are in his hands rather than his playing. Raj always appeals to me as similarly cool and the one solo I caught was understated and might have passed as accompaniment, but there was also gentle flamboyance in those responsive hits from the bop tradition. Mark called up singer Sonia Veronica for a ballad, Billy Strayhorne’s A flower is a lovesome thing, which was performed purely and touchingly. I particularly enjoyed Tom’s bass on the ballad, so clear and sparse. The other three tunes (I only caught the second set, and it was disappointingly short) were presumably originals from Mark’s album, soon to be released. These were in the post-bop tradition of solid melodic statements and fewer chords and less frequent changes. Two were slow. One was a rock rhythm. A third was a ‘60s hard bop with medium-up walk. Nice open vehicles for improvisation. This is where I took note of Mark against a cool rhythm section, busier, swishing through arpeggios, softly but with controlled energy.

These are just minimal notes from one set that ended unexpectedly. Nice playing well positioned in a mainstream period. Mark Fitzgibbon (piano) led a quartet with David Rex (alto), Tom Lee (bass) and Rajiv Jayaweera (drums). Sonia Veronica (vocals) sat in for one tune.

Out of Melbourne multiculture

Dan Bau and Dan Tranh featured the other night when Way Out West visited the Gods. Dan Bau and Dan Tranh are traditional Vietnamese musical instruments. They’re not common in Canberra, and they are not even particularly common in Vietnam these days. You hear them in recorded music, but mostly I just saw them live at upmarket restaurants and tourist haunts when I was there. They were always being played by slim women in that most refined Vietnamese dress, the Ao Dai. They are zithers of a type. The Dan Bau is a single stringed instrument with a vertical joystick mechanism for stretching the string. The Dan Tranh is a 16-string instrument on which the strings are exposed, plucked with one hand and bent with the other hand out past individual bridges. I felt those strings, and they were surprisingly low in tension, nothing like a guitar despite the high pitch.

But Way Out West is more than just these uncommon instruments. It’s a group that formed out west in the Melbourne suburbs and seeks to represent the multicultural world they formed from. So there’s the sound of Vietnam, but also the Afro-Cuban sound of rich percussion from Ray Pereira and tonalities and melodies that were distinctly worldly that I often heard as Middle Eastern. And even the standard jazz instruments, trumpet and tenor, had individual sounds in this outfit: the trumpet soft and smooth, like a flugelhorn rather than edgy, and the tenor also less hard-edged.

So this was worldly music. To me, the grooves of percussion/bass/drums underlaid and defined it all with rich cross-rhythms and regular, sometime hypnotic bass lines, often in odd times, like 13 or 10. Raj’s drums were pretty straightforward, necessarily to fit with the layer of percussion, and the resulting patterns of beats, especially in a later percussion solo, were wildly infective so that I found myself bopping in the corner. Over this, the melodies were sometimes short, often unison giving way to obvious but effective harmonies. Dung would play Dan Bau or Dan Tranh as a feature (especially being relatively quiet instruments), or played the most Asian-influenced of guitars as accompaniment or solo or melody. I noticed later he had deep scalloping on all frets on the neck of his strat-style guitar, presumably to allow the pitch bends that are so evident in Vietnamese music, and this carried across to his guitar style.

In fact, there were many more ways in which this band’s equipment was unique: the kiddy-coloured, minimal drum kit; the radically remade, scroll-less double bass; the surprisingly effective and good-sounding opening percussion played by Ray on a Peter’s son’s $4 tambourine. There was even poetry from Peter, “teeing off on the Moon … divots of Moon dust”, in a tune that oozed sun-drenched Hawaiian rhythms.

They played music from various albums. Mostly they were tunes, although with arrangements that saw fills and accompaniments by the horns in harmony, and more complex movements of parts between instruments. And there was one extended work, a suite of four tunes called Old grooves for new streets, which was symphonic in extent. Always energetic and melodic; often arranged and communal. Layer on layer creating a dense landscape of colour and patterns and interactions. Like a city or a diverse community, which is what they are picturing in their music, and is so fabulously imaged on the CD cover of Old grooves for new streets.

It was an infectious night of rich rhythms and worldly, melodic tones, and a wonderful depiction of a busy, multicultural patch of Australia.

Way Out West comprise Peter Knight (trumpet), Adam Simmons (tenor sax), Dung Nguyen (modified electric guitar, dan tranh, dan bau), Ray Pereira (percussion), Howard Cairns (acoustic bass), Rajiv Jayaweera (drums).

Cool big band on location

Bennetts Lane Big Band was very cool, as was the venue. The film being made outside the door just added that additional bit of swizzle. Jazz clubs are great for that dark, searching, existential atmosphere that suits movie realism, so it shouldn’t be too surprising. The amusing thing was that it was all shuffle and busy-ness and light for the movie’s creation, and this was so different from the personal themes being filmed. Film making is like that. But musos stood amongst film crews while having a smoko, listeners lined up to pass through the blocked door after the performance, and generally the music had proceeded totally oblivious to the video-based arts happening just outside the door. It was strange in that way.

The BL Big Band was formed in 2001, and plays monthly at the club, along with other occasional performances. Big bands are not easy to gather, so you takes your chances when you can catch one. I was glad I got there for this evening. The band had three irregular players sitting in, and I’m not too clear who they were. Everyone seemed to be concentrating on charts, or otherwise sitting with distant faces while waiting for their parts to arrive. Nothing unusual here. They played two sets totaling 9 or 10 tunes: all originals other than Ian Whitehurst’s arrangement of Ellington’s Half the fun. Half the fun was a unique setting, with a steady rhythmic pulse underlying the whole. The other tunes were more complex, more varying, more symphonic. There were passages of simplicity, others of rabid bop lines, others of subtle and smooth harmonies, and those glorious individual efforts as solos and other features. There were ballads and lively rhythmic pieces and lengthier suites. There was leader Eugene Ball with introductory comments, and some witticisms. According to Eugene, one tune was like “James Brown on acid”, and another was “written for some visiting Danish deros”. I was amused by abstruse changes in a tune by Tim Wilson which moved between swing and sharp staccato horns through boppy lines to piano solo and ultimate cacophony and ended in baritone sax and bass trombone passing solo passages between themselves. It seemed a challenge for the band too, with starts and stops and counts and calls helping the players through the charts. I recognized several of the tunes from the band’s CD, The snip, but I found the performance was far more satisfying than the recording, perhaps given that the actual recording was from the first year of the band, although only released fairly recently. Tunes like Andrea Keller’s Portrait of a simpleton and Jordan Murray’s long and baffling Requiem for a parking inspector obviously tell stories although I was a bit befuddled by such a long piece for a parking inspector. But then I overheard the band talking of parking before the gig, so maybe it’s a big issue around Bennetts Lane and worthy of such an epic.

Some impressions to follow. Andrea Keller’s piano fills and solo passages were of great harmonic complexity and unexpected dissonance layering washes of emotions. Tim Wilson floored me with a really superb feature solo on alto: lengthy, totally unaccompanied, sounds of breath and flapping pads. The bass instruments featured occasionally: Sam Anning (who was sitting in) provided another stunningly effective solo; Adrian Sherriff on bass trombone was fabulously lithe in several solos; the bass horns, Adrian Sherriff and Phil Noye on baritone sax, swapping lines for that big bottom-end feature I mentioned above. Visitor Paul Williamson played another wonderful solo that was smooth sounding and inevitable, but with some challengingly jerky and edgy lines thrown in. But a large ensemble is not about individuality, rather community. Despite some players sitting in for the night, this was a mature and together performance, with sharp rhythms, clear-ringing harmonies, and mellifluous horns parts, to go with their modern, raging and sometimes confronting charts.

This was my first visit to the legendary Bennetts Lane. I obviously chose a great night to attend. I’d heard the CD several times, but I was not prepared for the stunning live performance and the good natured, relaxed presentation in this small and intimate space. Very, very nice and very memorable. See the film (Centre Place) by all means, but go out of your way to hear this big band. Just wonderful.

On the night, the Bennetts Lane Big Band comprised Tim Wilson (alto sax), Julien Wilson and Ian Whitehurst (tenor saxes), Phillip Noy (baritone sax), Paul Williamson and Eugene Ball (trumpets), Jordan Murray (trombone), Adrian Sherriff (bass trombone), Andrea Keller (piano), Sam Anning (bass) and Rajiv Jayaweera (drums).

Worldly Westies

Text by Daniel Wild, pics borrowed from WOW

Ascend the steps to the Hippo Bar and meet Way Out West – an eclectic sextet that’s hard to pigeonhole. The fact that they appeared on Wednesday night at the Hippo indicates they have some relation to jazz, but this is music for music’s sake. Leading the band is Peter Knight on trumpet, who keeps the band in groove with his towering presence, sure-fire gestures and glances that tell the band a modulation is at hand. Playing the saxophones is Adam Simmons – mainly on tenor, but he did pull out some type of soprano sax for some evocative melodic flights. A cursory look at the two horns might suggest this is another Hancock-esque or Art Blakey like jazz combo, designed to get the party moving and present the audience with familiar tunes or catchy riffs done with verve. But, even accounting for the absence of a piano, this is fresh and different.

Way Out West are based in Melbourne’s inner west, although are increasingly spending less time there due to the demands of touring. This is their third time in Canberra. As a Sydneysider I’m not familiar with the cultural melting pot of Melbourne’s inner suburbs, although after hearing this band, I consider myself an aspiring Melburnian and deduce that Melbourne’s inner west must be at least as good as Sydney’s.

Ray Pereira on percussion and Rajiv Jayaweera on drums were the rhythmic heart of this gig. Rajiv has an economical kit – high hat, crash and ride cymbals, snare, bass drum and a cute little “utility drum” just above the snare. There are no toms and his playing is far from cute. While Pereira lays down Afro-cuban rhythms on his congas Jayaweera keeps a steady, supposedly conventional jazz rhythm that lays the temporal groundwork for the music. On closer listening, Jayaweera’s “world” influences – Indian and Latin – are apparent. He will play his kit with hands, set up cross rhythms between the high hat and snare and interject a well timed cymbal crash that splashes like a smooth basketball-sized stone falling into a running stream. Rajiv’s solo in the second set was particular inspiring – the absence of floor toms ruled out the possibility of stomach-rumbling to rolls. Instead, he resourcefully crafted a compelling solo with his snare and cymbals, reminiscent of early Tony Williams. The texture of the solo went from transparent to dense and forceful. All the while Pereira provided him with driving support on the congas.

The rapport between Jayaweera and Pereira is an important feature of the band. Pereira opened the first set with a solo intro on what looked like a small tambourine and sounded like a miniature tabla. Pereira obtained quite a range of sound by applying pressure on the drum skin as he tapped it. By varying the pressure point he could bend the sound by almost a fifth.

Pereira and Dung Nguyen combined at the end of the first set to play one of their own compositions, perhaps written during a jam while the other musicians were taking tea. This type of music is always free, open and unpredictable. Nguyen is perhaps the chief stylist of Way Out West. He plays the guitar and some traditional Vietnamese instruments: the dan bau and dan tranh. His playing allows Way Out West to achieve their distinctive blend of jazz-fusion and world music.

The dan bau appears to be related to the Chinese erhu, but is plucked rather than bowed. A lever operated by Dung’s left hand changes the pitch. He can bend notes to his heart’s content, taking us to the jungle in the night or conjuring the mystery of a western ghost town.

Adam Simmons is particularly idiosyncratic on tenor sax. He lulls you into a false sense of security, beginning his solos with conventional bluesy lines. Then just when you think, cool – this is funky tenor stuff – he launches into bellicose squeals, heartfelt yelps, frogs in your throat growls, offhanded utterances and tones so high up the register only a dog could hear them. Simmons gets a really dirty sound out of his instrument; the type of tone that many believe is the only way a tenor should be played. Rather than the “here I am, let me seduce you with the straight talking sax” approach, Simmons employs the “hey you – you think this rocks? Well what about this eeeeee; or this awwgg; or check this out – yarnk yrank, cahhoooeee grisle grisle.” At other times Simmons backs up Peter Knight’s trumpet musings with underlying “harmonic Persian carpet notes” or lays out and smiles and dances with the upper part of his body.

Although the structure of many of the pieces is modal, Knight’s arranging allows for modulations, time shifts, texture variations and interaction. He has lots of colour to draw upon in this sextet and makes full use of it, turning his combo into a mini-big band.

Don’t let Way Out West surprise you. It’s easy to be lulled by the exotic eastern melodies and coaxed into a false sense of security as if you were a shepherd on the hills of Kashmir with your back turned towards the Himalayas. Then, like a resounding avalanche, Rajiv will smack the snare as loud as possible, your whole frame will shake, and you will awake – excited, curious and apprehensive.

Wednesday’s gig coincided with the launch of their latest album, Old Grooves for New Streets. Way Out West shouldn’t be compared to anyone, but if you like Waiting for Guinness, Monsieur Camembert or Arabesque and are looking for something with a more streetwise, worldly flavour, you’ll do yourself no disservice by buying this album.

Oh, and did I mention the bass player? It seems that by providing the very foundation on which the rest of a band builds lavish musical sallies, by being inconspicuous yet powerful, bass players frequently are taken for granted as just doing their job. If you focus your attention on Howard Cairns’ bass lines you will be amply rewarded. Cairns variation of the bass on beats three and four is particularly notable. Composers, bass players and solo pianists can derive much useful instruction by listening to how Cairns keeps momentum going and maintains interest with his subtle rhythmic and pedal point variations.

Last word has to go to Ray Pereira, who taught the bar how to properly shake a cocktail during a moody piece that climaxed with some almost free and very adventurous jazz. These episodes were always used sparingly and to release and express the growing latent tension. During one of these spells Pereira began furiously shaking what looked like some type of maraca, although it may indeed have been a cocktail shaker filled with cardamon pods.

Way Out West are Peter Knight (trumpet), Adam Simmons (tenor sax), Dung Nguyen (modified electric guitar, dan tranh (Vietnamese zither), dan bau (single string plucked instrument), dan nhi (Vietnamese violin)), Ray Pereira (percussion), Howard Cairns (acoustic bass), Rajiv Jayaweera (drums).