Two eyes, two ears

The Earshift Festival started tonight with Reuben Lewis.  Strangely it conflicted, to the minute, with Sally Greenaway's launch for her latest classical composition/single.  I did manage to catch both, just.  Neither had masses of music, which was an advantage.  I'd caught Sally's tune a few hours earlier on YouTube and it's up for more uninterrupted consideration for 72 hours, so that's to come.  As I write this, it seems that Reuben is still available to replay, so that will definitely be a revisit.  And the Earshift Fest will be around for the next 10 days and I hope to catch it all, or maybe just most.  Sally's was a composition for a chamber group comprising CSO players with spectacular technique playing an exploding latin-styled piece sounding all the world of Piazzola.  It was inspired by the Rio Olympics and explores human achievement, complete with a "mad dash to the finish line".  Drivingly rhythmic, latin melodicism and some great playing.  Loved this one.  Reuben was a huge treat too, but in a massively different way.  I must admit I was taken by the jazz chops and the tech presence of it all.  He played three parts, improvised, with his two doppelgangers appearing behind him: laying down pads on a Prophet 6 synth, on a laptop with Ableton toying with recorded snippets of drums and bass from his band, I hold the lion's paw (this last/second album has just won huge plaudits and national awards), and up front on trumpet with a deskful of effects as the third layer.  He played some startling licks on trumpet, so despite his clear love of the electonics, his more traditional skills were hugely satisfying.  But overall, a triumph.  I can have a personal preference, but that's just a measure of my current interests.  These were two very different streams of two very different musics and cultural awarenesses and I'll happily download a copy of each.  So that's my judgement.  A difficult but hugely satisfying half hour or so with demands for a revisit.

Sally Greenaway presented her latest single composition, Don’t Forget Your Music!  Reuben Lewis appeared as the opening concert of the streamed Earshift Festival, held in association with SIMA.

Racks

It was a regathering of old friends, fellow students at ANU and old friends of CJ, when Great rack and an empty club reverb played at Hippo: Luke from Sydney; Aidan from Berlin; Reuben and Em from Melbourne; all gigging at Hippo, another old friend. But this was not Just Friends as in jazz standards. The band's title said lots: odd and long and suggestive of electronica. Em's performance was pretty much the title, working as she did at a small desk with mixer and effects. But much more. This was modern, melismatic music, as played in clubs, for dance, I guess (not a scene I know) done by trained jazz professionals. Breakbeats and drum'n'bass and warped reggaes and hugely infectious rhythms and odd times and some contemporary jazz polyrhythms (bliss!) and insistent drum grooves that writhed and mutated but never put an accent in a wrong place and bass lines from Luke's Hammond that would be dense or sparse and move feels inconspicuously or sometimes more obviously. Then solos that didn't spell the fact, trumpet that would echo unobstrusively. Two sets; each without a break. Luke told me after that they had about ten charts but they may not have used them all as the music moved unassumingly from one tune to another. I could pick changes, but it was more joy just to sit back and take all this in. Then voice over, that rack and reverb, Em leading with chatter, or as she said, her dialogue with the audience. "Distance separates us / there ... here ... there .. here". All with impish humour. Words that spelled stories, perhaps improvised, if only to some degree. Words subject to digital effects; words merging into repeats and wordless vocals; vocals in counterpoint or extended harmony with trumpet, sometime like a two-horn frontline (although this was no Blue Note session). Words are conversation and contact: music lovers talk of music as a language but I reckon words add and connect. I strained to hear some stories. Hippo is inherently noisy and continually chatty and the sound wasn't so clear. But the music was infectious and mobile and connecting and done by these trained musicians. Not strictly jazz but jazz training allows this, at this level, stunningly, even when just a get-together. This is not a permanent band. Just old friends, on a night out, playing a rhyming storm in the home town. Fabulous!

Great rack and an empty club reverb comprised Emily Bennett (voice, live signals), Reuben Lewis (trumpet, live signals), Luke Sweeting (organ) and Aidan Lowe (drums).

Advent

Musicians coming home to visit the family. Old ANU bands getting together to play their greatest hits. Some great jazz from musos that we hear developing further year by year, in Canberra or elsewhere. Same Hippo. Such a pleasure to be part of all this at this time. The latest was Reuben Lewis & the Snake Charmers. Reuben was back from Melbourne. Aidan for a second recent concert in recent days, was back from Berlin. Both dropping in for Christmas cheers. Both with old sparing partners, Simon and Matt, in a format they have all played frequently. Tunes by the band, Reuben and Simon, with occasional covers. Bjork Hyperballad for one. Otherwise, I recognised old favourites through the set: a groove in 3 with just 2 chords, tom-heavy drums and fingerpicking guitar accompaniment and simple but gorgeously effective melody; a rock groove with four falling chords over 16 bars; a reggae; a rural theme that reminded me of horse-riding, lazy, with A and B sections; a medium -up latin. All so nicely played. Simon holding exemplary, simple bass lines that just work. Great guitar solos from Matt and unaffected variations from Aidan and clarity of melodic purpose from Reuben. Such a pleasure. Original tunes; modern yet firmly planted in a sweep of musical history; relaxed but complex and satisfying. At Hippo for the 23rd day of Advent.

Reuben Lewis (trumpet) led the Snake Charmers at Hippo. The Snake Charmers were Matt Lustri (guitar), Simon Milman (bass) and Aidan Lowe (drums).

Nick's nonet

I've been musing over why I like nonets or octets. When treated as an ensemble, these are little big bands, so why these rather than the larger formats? I've decided it's because the writing becomes so clear, the lines so crisp and the solo spots so integrated and unjarring. We were hearing each voice anyway, so when some just drop out for a different texture or a solo, there's less change, less loss, more continuity. I was not certain I could attend Nick Combe's Nonet concert at Street 3 but at the last minute, I could, and it was a thing of great pleasure. Nick is soon off to Melbourne (we've lost many recent graduates to Melbourne with smaller numbers to replace them) and he gathered his cohorts together for a recording of his charted works. We've been hearing Nick's charts over the years and this is a culmination album, using his frequent offsiders. It was a strong band and one that has a collective history even if it's somewhat spread to the winds these days. We were in the generous Street 3 space, the musicians all laid out on carpet and studio-miced, some seats and cushions for an intimate audience. The recording was just 7 tracks, but there's lots of work in these, in terms of composition and arrangements and elaborations. And interestingly, Nick has a story for each. These are not just abstract compositions, but they speak of loves and losses, buses and places and health and happiness. These are Nick's encounters or experiences so the tapestry of changes and repeats speak of real emotions. This feels real. Nicely played, too. These were solos for the studio, careful, not overextended, nicely detailed and developed.

The gig started with Love is a job from Hell. It's a work in 3 parts, starting with a slow bluesy feel in 6 with dissonance and some nifty baritone sax fills and a driving guitar solos and the tenor providing embellishments that paralleled the earlier bari lines and finishing with solo piano. Then Moira, a light 2-feel with a piano trio and brushes and swelling with horns and some lovely solos on trumpet and tenor. Then Once is enough, inspired by a TS Elliot fragment and featuring a melody that's fascinatingly spelt out on different instruments, over brushes in a count of 16, then into guitar/piano and a lush horn fill and slowly swung piano trio and what I heard as an islander melody. Then Centrelink Blues referring to queues and free money. Nick has a nice story here. Medium-up blues with spaces for solos and a beautifully unhurried and thoughtful trumpet solo. I was loving both trumpeters despite vastly different approaches. Then Shoosh, everything will be alright that tells of Nick as helpful ear with slow 4 and lovely horn swells. Then Louis' precious woman, dedicated to Louis Nowra, a complex number that speeds eventually to cacophony then instrument drop outs into solos and rim shots. And a final Lemon and honey, a quickish reggae that Nick had on his mind when sick in bed. I was struck with the understated but supremely self-assured trombone here. Then thanks and chatter. It was all more rich than I can recount here. This was a musical pleasure, but also a recording and I can only look forward to the release. Nick's developed some complex and satisfying charts and this is one memory that can be confirmed soon enough on release, probably early 2015. Buy it!

Nicholas Combe (baritone sax, composer, arranger) led his nonet in a live recording at Street 3. The band comprised Nick with Reuben Lewis (trumpet), Alex Raupach (trumpet), Tom Fell (tenor, alto sax), Valdis Thomann (trombone), Matt Lustri (guitar), Damien Slingsby (piano), Simon Milman (bass) and Aidan Lowe (drums).

A notable confluence of pollination

It was called Inflorescence and it was in the Drill Hall Gallery and it was a merging of two arts from one family. Or perhaps two families, because Miro was a ring-in. Reuben Lewis and Miroslav Bukovsky were performing in response to an installation developed in contemplation of pollination by Reuben's mother, Dianne Fogwell. We all know of the crisis of bee populations, more in USA than here, and in a strange concurrence, I had come across a group promoting the issue only a few hours before at the People's Climate march. Dianne's presentation was in white, lit in the semi-dark from behind by LEDs, combining a range of flower shapes and seed linocuts and a lengthy white sheet with indents in the form of staves and music. Reuben and Miro walked along the sheet and through the installation playing trumpets or other, tones altered by mute or tongue, melodies performed and improvised from snippets of the sheet's dots or just interacted by improvisation. Trumpet seems so right for such a performance with its varying tones, controlled attacks and holds and decays, flittering wheezes and slapping valves. These two players understand each other; they were once master and student. Their sounds are rubato, searching, floating, but sometimes setting rhythms or regularly repeating melody and variations. It was only after the concert that I noticed the long white sheet was dotted with staves and notes. It is only now, thinking back, that I grasp the representations of flowers and seed pods that comprise the pollination process. I remain uncertain of the meaning of the long sheet with its musical indents but perhaps it's a portrayal of von Frisch's waggle dance. Whatever, the installation may not need much interpretation and the music certainly doesn't given it's the most abstract of the arts. But this was mesmeric, intuitive, responsive music. Two musicians of high calibre responding and interacting with art and environment and each other.

Reuben Lewis (trumpet) and Miroslav Bukovsky (trumpet, flugelhorn, percussion) responded to the art installation, Inflorescence by Dianne Fogwell, at the Drill Hall Gallery.

Not Dixie

Someone joked that it looked like Dixieland but it was anything but. It sounded more like Ornette and the clarinet gave it a classical ambiance especially when playing with James' inventive harmonising. They all chose notes so well. I could hear bass ostinatos and even once or twice a walk, so there was tonal centre and chord changes, but the considerable freedom in harmonies and choice of intervals and counterpoint and the lack of a chordal instrument made for a freer sound. The charts appeared and times and the tunes joined in medleys, settling for a while for someone's solo then dissolving into more interplay in te front line and unresolved freedom until another tuned appeared. They seemed to have long written charts but with open space and room to escape the dots. for their individual statements. I'm writing this while I listen, and it's dissolving right now as I write, from a swing and walking bass and capable clarinet solo into an interlude of free then into trumpet and a marching drum and sparse bass on 1 with embellishments and already I'm feeling urgency as something grows into glissando bass and that solid march and Reuben steadily stating a melody increasingly clearly. Now counterpoint form 2 horns and soon delicious contrary motion from James. Nothing here is fast but it delights in melody and tunefullness despite none-too overt structure. Delicious is a great word. Two sets of 45 mins, mostly without a stop or chatter. Then just a final cover of Tomasz Stanko as an encore. Reuben Lewis (trumpet) led a quintet at the Gods with James Greening (trombone, trumpet), Jon Hunt (clarinet, bass clarinet), Mark Shepherd (bass) and Ronny Ferella (drums).

Canberra-Gothenburg connections

Casey mentioned that the band all had Canberra connections other than Johan. I wondered if being married to Casey was a Canberra connection (obviously it is!) but you can see Casey's point. Other than Johan, the band was locally trained. But they've toured in Europe and released a CD recorded live in Krakow and they are touring here and are about to go into the studio. I am impressed that such international collaborations happen, but they do and they are common enough.

This one is Australia/Sweden with the Moirs in Gothenburg. Some tone of Scandinavia comes through in Casey's voice. And what voice! Her control, invention, flexibility are breathtaking. There's immense movement, quietness and detail here, and all manner of vocal techniques are in use, breaths, tongue clicks, pops, shushs. Mostly wordlessly, soloistically, perhaps unison as melody with Reuben's trumpet, or bouncing off Aidan's drums. But this incarnation is structured around songs with words, all poetry written by Casey herself and put to music by Casey or Reuben or Luke or Johan. Words, of course, have shared meaning, so there were love songs and tragic songs and fun songs and more. But in her way, Casey melds and bends consonants and tones for musical effect, shushing a final s or tacking a final t, consistently in any one tune. These shaped words may be harder to catch, and the lines are rhythmically jagged, but there's seriousness in thought, here, not just in music. And what a responsive band this is. Casey gave some guidance, conducting some starts and stops, but these are independently capable musicians, each getting spots to highlight their parts. I mentioned the vocals/drums segment - a unique or very rare combination - and the unison trumpet/vocals, which was satisfying if not so rare. There was also a bass/vocals passage and frequent open spaces for individual instruments - piano, of course, but also bass and mixes of bass/trumpet and the like. Luke even donned a piano accordion for the final, jokey tune, and that fit neatly with the theme, musically folksy and ironic but with serious intent. The song was entitled No : "No there is nothing new in knowing nothing / like those who know nothing new". I can only agree. There are open, free feels here, bass noises and harmonics, free jazz and new techniques. There's tradition, too, as I caught hints of quotes from the repertoire, from experience rather than intent. Grooves to settle or dissolve; solo passages that are interrupted by frenzied fills; crescendoes that grow long and almost imperceptibly; then to fall or decay, ff to pp and perhaps breeze and quizzical, sparse piano chords. There was even an end with the guys chanting under Casey's much firmer voice. It's complex music, intriguing and rich with lots of openess and clean air. Canberra and Gothenburg can both probably lay claim to open space and clean air.

There's detail and complexity here and it places considerable demands on both performers and audience, but the room was entranced. Like travel, music like this broadens a stale mind. Obviously one for the arthouse and festivals, never the clubs. Svelia is the international collaboration of Casey Moir (vocals), Johan Moir (bass), Reuben Lewis (trumpet), Luke Sweeting (piano, piano accordion) and Aidan Lowe (drums).

SoundOut2014/1 (Friday night) continues...

Continues ...

I was particularly interested in the paired bassists, especially given one was playing my bass. Slawek and Clayton, both bass, with Cor piano and Sean drums. This was a more conventional format, and the masculine side of the night. Strong from the start, then into tortured, pressured, intense, manic playing. Piano was punctuated and with some harmony; the basses were bowed, pizzed, explored, tapped, loud and intense; the drums were sometimes rabid, never steady, all fills and explosions and space and just some quieter passages. I was interested in the tones and the aggression of it all while somewhat fretfull for what the instruments were enduring, respectful for the search for newness, aware of the excessiveness and volume of it all, dismissive of some of the techniques. (This was an early and wrong impression. I was pleasantly surprised by the bass chops I heard next day from both bassists. But as I've found before, manic intensity at this level drives out the staid traditions and correct techniques of many arts; often, but not always, with justification). If these guys were playing their own basses, I may have relaxed and warmed to it, but as it was, I didn't relax enough to enjoy in this performance. (BTW, the bass was perfectly OK, as promised).

It still perplexes me that new music is so often played on old instruments. Given the traditional instrumentation, I warm to a musician who displays impressive traditional technique or knowledge. I noticed this with bassist Clayton when he was warming up for the end-of-session jam with a very steady and nicely developed bass groove, and also with his traditionally-styled pizz and ostinatoes during that jam. The harmonies and feels may have been new, but the techniques and groove were of long established. The group development was more unitonal and textured and atmospheric, but here was a family or historical connection with other music. So too, Richard's baritone sax in this set, that picked up on the groove and permuted it. The first set had Richard on soprano sax and drum playing with clarinet, two altos and one tenor sax. The whole merged in my ears into a melange of tonguings and tones and drones, but in openings I could pick out some wonderful ostinato lines from Richard, fast, clear, nicely structured around a quick passage and a long note, with slow minimalist change. This was impressive chops and lovely, understated accompaniment. It was not always obvious and sometimes hidden in the mix, but impressive when it appears. So too, with bass clarinetist Krista in this session. She had classical tone, toyed with varying lengthy intervals that sat so intriguingly and gloriously, even contrapuntally, in this busy mix. The distinct tone helps. In another set, Kim's guitar was somewhat a crossover in technical matters. I felt it held its session together with sweet fingerpicking and regular strumming, although only sometimes of chords; othertimes it was open strings or harmonics, so undefined harmonies. But this worked, especially interspersed with a similar-sounding zither-like instrument. It worked also due to clarity of the instrumental mix. Richard on gourdaphone and Reuben on trumpet and these are distinct sounds. This is also where I appreciated the skilled techniques in much new music. I know Reuben as both a bopper and a more experimental musician. Here it was all breath and tongue and unformed notes and mutes. It's a technique requiring competence and training, although not traditional. Not surprisingly, it can take knowledge of the instrument and the form to understand its complexities. Knowing a crossover artist can help.

SoundOut is our local incarnation of this worldwide branch of new music. Not easy, always a test to these ears, but a worthy wakeup call to your own conservative tendencies. Looking forward to another session. ABC FM were recording, Julian Day was MC-ing. You can hear SO performances over coming weeks on Julian's New Music Up Late.

Psithurism Trio + played the first set, Richard Johnson (soprano sax), Rhys Butler (alto sax), John Porter (tenor sax), Krista Martynes (bass clarinet) and Rosalind Hall (alto sax). Second set was Slawek Janicki (double bass), Sean Baxter (drums), Cor Fuhler (piano) and Clayton Thomas (double bass). Last set was Kim Myhr (guitar), Reuben Lewis (trumpet) and Richard Johnson (gourdophone, drum, soprano sax). The end-of-night collective improvisation comprised Richard Johnson (baritone sax), Rhys Butler (alto sax), John Porter (tenor sax), Clayton Thomas (double bass), Cor Fuhler (guitar) and Reuben Lewis (trumpet).

Another musical pleasure

Mark Sutton and Reuben Lewis are friends and musicians who I’ve heard and admired for a long time. I’d played one gig with Mark way back, on e-bass, and none with Reuben. So to have them sit in was a pleasure. Thanks, Mark and Reuben …. and Mike and Richard, too, of course.

An arhythmia with rhythm

I’d hoped there would be no rhythm section and there wasn’t. This was three respected brass players performing alone: Miroslav Bukovsky, Reuben Lewis and James Greening. Reuben quipped during the night that you have to work hard without a rhythm section. He told me after that this was performing with risk. They had performed a few tunes and even a set in this configuration, but never a whole performance of two sets. It’s demanding music, heavily improvised, often quite atonal or even just noise, so it’s something for a sophisticated audience.
I think it was Reuben who had pulled this performance together; he certainly provided the patter (other than James’ always amusing interjections) and chose the tunes, even if this was essentially democratic. He was a student of Miro for 9 years and of James for some time. There’s an obvious respect and goodwill between the three as well as a well evolved musical understanding. James first joked about the charts and spun the music stand to show the music. These are not the standard dots-on-staves compositions, although there were some staves. One tune seemed pretty much written (Get well soon); several had clusters of notes on staves, but with various instructions (or not) for how to interpret them or in what order to play them; a few were just squiggles or blots or computer symbols, perhaps with a legend to assist. Compositions that look like this date back 50-or-more years and I’ve seen charts looking like this in front of “classical” new music performers. There’s expectation of more than just the Western trilogy of melody / harmony / rhythm here: there’s also timbre and tone and noise and space and the rest. There are plenty of clear notes and phrases although in all sorts of implied harmonies, although I doubt that, while they are onstage, they think in those terms. The notes and phrases seem to exist as unique sounds, individualised, although influenced by this environment and forming after-the-fact harmonic relationships. These guys handle it with aplomb. I noticed one altered arpeggio as it developed from a first note. This sort of thing happened all night, of course, but this was so pure and unadorned and sharply intoned and so much pulled from silence so perfectly that it took me back. It’s day in the life for musicians of this calibre but it can still surprise me. There were three brass, perhaps three trumpets or a mix of trumpet, flugelhorn, trombone and pocket trumpet, a panoply of mutes, perhaps percussion. The tunes were constructed (this seems a deter term in this context) by Reuben. Each player took one solo, but otherwise they were collaborations. None of this is easy, but close your eyes and it’s a landscape you don’t imagine exists. And swinging even without a rhythm section.

Miroslav Bukovsky (trumpet, percussion), Reuben Lewis (trumpet, flugelhorn) and James Greening (pocket trumpet, bass and alto (?) trombones, percussion) performed at the Canberra Grammar School Gallery.

Berlin comes to Canberra

Berlin didn’t come for the C100 celebrations. This was just a home-coming gig for Reuben after a year in Berlin. He was one of a considerable Canberra and Australian contingent over there over recent times. It’s quite a centre of experimental and jazz music these days. Reuben’s in town for a few months before heading off to Melbourne. He was a significant figure in his time in Canberra, and the attendance at this concert is just a confirmation. This was a great concert. I was surprised how comfortably the band settled back in, and also that Reuben hadn’t played with Evan before. You wouldn’t have known. This was wonderful music.

They started with a piece of Berlin art: a 30 minute free improvisation. It’s a demanding form for player and listener but this was easy. The time passed almost without thought. Fluttering trumpet and various noises with or without mouthpiece; ardent drumming with a consistent kick that was so loosely tuned; chordal or single notes from guitar; even or bouncing bow and tonal-centre-free bass walks and clear bass tones. I felt there was a touch of unreadiness to end when due, but this was a masterful display.

Then an interval and doing the rounds for Reuben and the others, then a set of more approachable tunes, from earlier CDs, mostly written by Simon, but also two by Reuben and one from Tomasz Stanko. These were all very well presented and soloed over and they were a very mixed bag stylistically: reggae and jazz and Moroccan and even country touches. Improvised and malleable in interpretation but always with the strongest of grooves. The mix of popular approachability with the jazz skills opens the music to many ears and maintains the substance, even if some of the jokey presentation may disown it. I was floored by the simple beauty of several of Matt’s guitar solos, using chords and single notes, clearly formed and unsustained notes with an edge of distortion, that spelt out inevitable melody that would grace a country lament. Reuben would play with tone and noise then drop into similar lyricism. The rhythms were churning underneath, spelt out by bass and drums, but also by offset chords from guitar. The groove was absolutely steady but implied and richly embellished although sometimes Simon would drop back on a repeating pattern or atonal walk. He only took a few solos, but they, too, would sit relaxed, exploring the highest notes or dropping in a scalar line. Intelligent and tasteful playing all round. Miro sat in for a few tunes, too, so we got his fast exploratory work contrasting against Reuben’s flugelhorn phrasing.

How good was this? Both entertaining with the reggae and the rest and roiling grooves and relaxed but exploratory soloing. Berlin has done good for Reuben, but Canberra seems to have done good for the others, too. Great gig! Reuben Lewis (trumpet, flugelhorn) led a trio with Simon Milman (bass) and Evan Dorrian (drums) then a quartet adding Matt Lustri (guitar) and a quintet with Miroslav Bukovsky (trumpet).

The sound of snow and long nights

The Reuben Lewis Quintet concert was called Scandinavian reflections and it started just as I expected: slow, meditative, rubato feels or barely implied beats, long crescendos, bass pedals, piano arpeggios, cymbals and rolls and mallets. These are the sounds of snow and chill and white to my ears, and this seems perfectly appropriate for Scandinavian jazz. This jazz sounds as you see it.

I was thinking of how this varies from US jazz, or perhaps the jazz of warmer countries. Partly, through the influence of ECM and its stable and its uncompromising recordings. But some of the tunes sounded more American to me: livelier, stronger grooves. Luke was playing a Rhodes, and although he tells me there are plenty in Europe, I hear Euro-jazz with classical (and folk) influences and played on fine grand pianos. The Rhodes is more swampy to my ears, especially when effected. And while Reuben in very influenced by this jazz (he mentioned Tomasz Stanko), I often heard bop conceptions in Max’s playing. (No problems there: I actually prefer it). But it was as I meditated on Reuben’s introduction that mentioned “melody and communication”, and as I listened to Simon’s sparse but clear and concentrated bass lines, that I felt the difference. There’s an intensity of interaction and a love of pure, unaffected tone here, along with a slow, folk-affected melodic sense. Simon was just defining one chord, but every note was a treasure and every interval was well considered. Aidan’s drumming sat the same way: sparse and melodic, story telling rather than rudimental. This was a unified whole rather than a soloist and rhythm section. It’s not such a new discovery, of course. Musicians have been concerned with this since the ’50s from the cool and modal and free eras but this style is at a high level and riddled with solitary intensity. This is the music of people thrown together for long nights. It’s not urgent or urban. It’s close to music of the very late night jazz club. But there’s also a feeling of darkness and unspoken closeness and unfilled time in this music. Slow or single chords, open rhythms, internalised thought spreading quietly. Even a pop song, when it arrived, was like this. They played Bjork’s tremulous Hyperballad, and the intriguing melody appeared occasionally amongst more obscure improvised meanderings. Nice but icy.

Anyway, that’s how I heard it. Reuben Lewis (trumpet) led a quintet at the Gods Café with Max Williams (tenor), Luke Sweeting (Rhodes piano), Simon Milman (bass) and Aidan Lowe (drums).

Cyberhalides Jazz Photos by Brian Stewart