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

Talking about the weather

It was cold and wet last night when I got to Hippo for Mark Lau and the Virculum Collective. Mark trained at the Sydney Con, and I understand the band was mostly made up of fellow students from times back. This was a tour back home for him: he’s been living and working in NY for the last 7 or 8 years. I was actually talking weather with Mark before the gig, but, unlike most weather discussions, this was interesting: humidity and the effect on an acoustic bass. Apparently, NY can get very dry, even down to 10% humidity, and this obviously has drastic effects on fragile timber instruments.

The unusually wet mid-winter Canberra weather probably kept the audience at home, because it wasn’t a big crowd. But they heard two sets of structured and capably played jazz. It’s a collective, so there were compositions by several members. I noticed long, sinuous, melody statements in several tunes, with space for improv, but not built simply for improvisation. I’ve heard Richard Maegraith’s latest CD, and the writing’s very much like this. Perhaps most standard jazz-wise was the reconception of Giant steps by Richard with recognisable changes and a single standout rhythm hit. The least standard, at least melodically, would have been the jig, which was reimagined as a jazz composition with head and solos. I felt it was a diverse set of players and instrumental styles, too. Tim Firth took the tunes and consistently built them in intensity and emotion, so they all seemed to end on a high. He played two memorable solos, too. Mark took a few solos too, but mostly held a position-based chordal accompaniment. I remember one walk, but it was mostly syncopated, rhythmic playing. I enjoyed his fat sound, although he told me he was not too comfortable returning to an electric bass he’d left behind in Australia and which he’d never settled into. Richard and Mike, up front on tenor and trumpet, formed a lovely front line. I really enjoyed the heads, perhaps with trumpet reading a chart, and tenor toying in harmony, or otherwise a straight melody in parallel harmony or perhaps unison. Mike also played some sweet accompaniment to Richard’s tenor solos at other times. Otherwise the styles of the two front-liners seemed very different but complimentary. Mike was more mainstream, seldom dissonant, clearly intoned, playing long eighth-note lines which could stop and start at unexpected times. Richard was more the modern saxist: plenty of altered notes, fast, contorted, tonally thinner, more dense and emotive. I felt the contrast worked a treat. I felt some reticence with the tunes but they were large charts and this is an early (first?) gig on Mark’s tour, so it’s not unexpected. But it was an involving concert with interesting charts and a diverse range of playing styles and a satisfying sound, so I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Virculum Collective was led by Mark Lau (bass), with Richard Maegraith (tenor), Mike Kenny (trumpet) and Tim Firth (drums).