Never wearied

It's their 45th anniversary concert tour and CD and these are masters and seasoned of our jazz craft so it's so surprise that this was such a deeply satisfying gig to attend.  Sure, we see them in smaller groups but to hear the compositions, the solos, the personalities, the arrangements of little big band colours is a special thing.  I'm still thrilling at the precision of those colours; of the contemporary classical crossover of Kevin Hunt's piano outings; of the touching depth of Sandy's introduction to the gig and Miro's Ornette-infused Nostalgia (isn't what it used to be) to end it all, of Steve Elphick's understated but ever correct Hadenesque presence.  And they fit a space like this, theatrical, spacious, respectful, nicely amplified.  It was casual, too, compered by Sandy and a space and casualness that we could see, experience the personality, musical and other, of each of these players.  I was amused by the cool pleasure of Warwick Alder and his chat with Miro; ever gregarious and friendly James Greening and his quips and then floored by his trombone responses to a Sandy solo; the as-one pairing of Sandy and Andrew and offsider Paul; Matt filling in for John Mackey, blowing in this own style and verve.  Rease Cameron was new to me, but nicely effective.  Just 10 tunes over 2 hours and two sets.  A hugely mature set of musos and musical and compositional grouping ends in a fabulous and deeply satisfying night of music.

Ten Part Invention performed at The Street Theatre.  10PI comprised Miroslav Bukovsky (co-musical director, trumpet, flugelhorn), Sandy Evans (co-musical director, tenor, soprano saxes), Paul Cutlan (tenor, baritone saxes, clarinet), Andrew Robson (alto), Matt Ottignon (tenor, flute), Warwick Alder (trumpet), James Greening (trombone),  Kevin Hunt (piano), Steve Elphick (bass) and Rease Cameron (drums).

Who needs NYC

Yeah, it's a big call and somewhat in jest, but there's great music in any decently sized city that I've visited and I saw some truly great music the other night at Smiths. It was Warwick Alder, Sydneysider, with our local cream, Brendan Clarke, John Mackey and Mark Sutton. Suffice to say, this was stunningly good and presentable on any stage anywhere. The style was somewhere around hard-bop-cum-post-bop with a touch of free from John. The skills were exemplary. The clarity of vision and inherent humour and good nature along with the awareness of history and a deep personal history of all players were evident. These guys just play like gods and I could just sit and smile. There was a certain bluster, not least as Warwick joked with the audience, but clear was the immense knowledge and long experience of all the players. Just stunning solos all round. Fabulously easy harmonies thrown out by the front line. Strong shared eights and fours from Mark. Blissful solos at all time from Brendan. Clarity of intent from Warwick and yearning sheaves of colour from John. Warwick was the melodic one, but trumpeters always are. There's something about trumpet that makes for melody. On the other hand, sax is all flourishes and screeds and colour and John does that with consonant or easily dissonant chops at will. Brendan just plays the most easy but adventurous embellishments and the most deceptively simple solos. And Mark who lays busyness and washes over settled grooves and then takes eights and fours with ease and variety. And this is over the most standard of American standards: I'll be seeing you, Darn that dream, Quasimodo. Interestingly, starting the first set with a trumpet trio (trumpet, bass, drums playing I'll be seeing you) and the second set with a duo (trumpet and bass playing Falling in love with love). Plus a fast blues (an Ellington gig requirement) by Warwick and a funkier, distinctly '70s jazz tune called Message song by a influence of Warwick's (Dave van Kriedt, mate of Brubeck and Paul Desmond, who had visited Australia to lecture at Wollongong when jazz studies started up here) and Brownsville, by Warwick's long-term bandleader and national jazz elder, Bernie McGann. What to say other than that this was a world-worthy night in our intimate venue. We were blessed.

Warwick Alder (trumpet) led a quartet with John Mackey (tenor), Brendan Clarke (bass) and Mark Sutton (drums) at Smiths.

Big city burn

We were down to Sydney for other matters but I fit in a visit to Venue 505, no knowing who was playing. And what a lovely surprise. A few sets of some terrific jazz with some of the best of the locals. Warwick Alder was just stunning on the most fluent of jazz trumpets. Relaxed, lightly toughed and hugely flight-of-foot. Danny Carmichael joined in for a few tunes late in the night and Warwick just upped the level. Not that Danny was weak: very different, firm toned, clear tonal and atonal lines. Greg Coffin was on piano which I could hear clearly up close for some pics but less well further back where some chair were free. Cameron Undy was stunningly fleet over the extent of the bass neck, moving freely and very easily well into thumb positions. Clearly intentioned in solos, hugely quick, fabulously well spoken in support. I guess pentatonics and much more, but never an uncomfortable note and some very fast solo and walk lines. James Waples was on drums, distinctively open and mobile on the kit and free from a stock swing take. I was in awe, the music was beautifully played, the door was free and there was a constant movement. Not quiet, so not so easy to listen with intent, but lively. I missed some subtleties, mostly on piano which didn't cut through at my location, but a great city burn none-the-less. Much enjoyed.

Cameron Undy (bass) led a quartet with Warwick Alder (trumpet), Greg Coffin (piano) and James Waples (drums) at Bar 505 in Sydney. Danny Carmichael (trumpet) sat in late in the night.

Old and young guns, pt.2

Bernie led his standard quartet and what bliss! I felt transported to another era and place by this concert. But the actual place, Street One, suited the band brilliantly. I don’t usually like jazz under a proscenium arch, but The Street was strangely intimate with its sagging cabaret-like backdrop and the band up front on stage with gentle colour washes.

I heard Bernie’s sax as slithering and seductive and unobtrusively articulated, undemonstrative and perhaps wary but nimble and open to experience. It’s been likened to Australian bush and I felt it as birdsong, nimble and seductive as that is. Warwick is anything but the same, but I was in Heaven when he entered with harmonies over melodies. This was the closest, most articulate, most familial harmonies I could imagine. But his soloing was anything but like Bernie’s. Warwick was all even eights or shreds of sixteenths, running chords with even volume and intensity but with phrasing that toyed with the bars running below. One trumpeter said after that he’s the best, meaning he’s the best jazz player, for this is classical, cerebral jazz: just melody improvised over chords with immense harmonic and technical skills and tightly controlled tone. Fabulous. What of the rhythm section? Andrew is renowned for his swing and, to my ears, it’s a swing of an era. I heard it as ‘40s: snappy, choppy and coarse-grained, authentic to style and displaying the influences of the pre-bop. Brendan was just supremely comfortable. Again, lots of bop-like swing, vivid soloing up the neck and a nicely balanced tone but with an upper-mid edge (he’s switched from gut to Obligatos and loves them, partly for bowability). I’ll particularly mention one spot where was playing an obligato (in Db I think) and dropped the volume from strong to the lightest but with a constant intensity. Now that’s control! The tunes were Bernie’s recognisable repertoire, some of which have become standards for Australia jazzers. First were The breeze and I, the Spirit song. Then a blues and Sweet and lovely, a ballad, Finally, Paul Desmond’s Wendy. I was just a little surprised to hear “Paul Desmond is “one of my all-time favourite saxophone players” but I probably shouldn’t be. Just 5 tunes? Maybe I missed one, but these were long takes with extended solos. I’d been hanging out for this gig. I’ve heard Bernie before but this was the most convincing. Perhaps it was the quiet room and quiet and attentive audience to hear the detail. The room, the night, suited this band and they are classics. Great gig.

Bernie McGann (alto) led his quartet with Warwick Alder (trumpet), Brendan Clarke (bass) and Andrew Dickeson (drums).

Cyberhalides Jazz Photos by Brian Stewart

What maturity means

Alex Boneham said to me it’s like the music you learn at the Con but then seldom perform in public.

Andrew Dickeson led a quintet at the Gods and it was furious post-bop and beautiful ballads and down-home blues and it’s something any modern jazzer loves. But it was also the sheer skills that hit me this night. The very first bar had me in awe. It was sharp, precise, relaxed but laden with energy that was always about to explode. It’s a great skill: precision and power that sits and promises, even seduces, and clearly has energy sitting in reserve, even while the notes are scrolling by in sixteenths and the ideas are flowing freely. Then I heard a line from Warwick that I thought just sat so right and I realised there are perfect lines for certain combinations of chords and melodies and tempos. It’s no surprise, really, given the importance of transcription for advanced students, but it’s not obvious when we talk of improvisation as the basis for jazz. And then I noticed these perfect snippets all over the place. Warwick has a library of them. James and Steve had plenty of their own. The blues is replete with them. We call some of them “licks”, but there are others, too: perfect statements that ring true to our unconscious listening history. The music was not pretentious, not original compositions although there were original arrangements. They were reading, but you might not know it from the ease of the unison melodies. The band played standards but they were not common ones: Here and now, Never let me go, Ill wind, I’m a weaver of dreams, Embraceable you was common. Some tunes were features for the frontliners: Billie Holiday’s I’ll be seeing you was a feature for Warwick so James sat out; Embraceable you was a guitar trio with James. There were some blues: Freddie Hubbard’s Byrd-like and Carl Perkin’s hard-bopper Carl’s blues. The song is you was arranged by Andrew with odd staccatos that challenged the readers. It surfaced a few chuckles from Alex and smiles from Steve. The old hands up front were mostly phlegmatic but even they looked around with discrete smiles at times. There were some devastating solos from the masters. James reached to the top frets and was mostly above the first octave, but could fall away with clanking frets right down the neck, all within lines of furious speed and unending length. Warwick also played those long, fast lines, although I thought more scalar against James’ pentatonics. I remember his plays on scales where he started with, say, a third that then fell away, then a fourth, then a fifth, and so on. Get an idea and execute it, exercise-like, maintain it, explore and twist it. I was drooling at how much playing and practice was on display. Andrew was leading from the drum stool with a distant grin of concentration. He’s mainstream to my ears and so precise, driving from behind or laying solos that spell out melody in rolls and rudiments, quite loud and spot on. I heard Steve as less explosive than Warwick or James, playing tenor-style sustained eighth notes with rising and falling lines and neat bop-triplet fills in solos and pianistic colour in comping. Alex is a young master to my ears. His intonation was impressive despite (maybe because of) squirming like Charlie Haden, his solos were thoughtful - slow and intervallic or minimalistic and arpeggiated - and his tone was firm and edgy and to die for.

So, what to make of all this? Mature and classy and unpretentious but with some devastating, world-class skills. More than I could have hoped for. Andrew Dickeson (drums) led a quintet with Warwick Alder (trumpet), James Muller (guitar), Steve Barry (piano) and Alex Boneham (bass) at the Gods.

Our heritage

We hear tell of Bernie McGann as a key person in our Australian modern jazz heritage, with biographies in print and film. But he’s here, and very much performing with the same intent and his unique voice. We had a chance to hear it again at the Gods on Tuesday. Bernie came with his quartet: Warwick Alder, Brendan Clarke and Andrew Dickeson. This is jazz that harks right back to bop invention but speaks also with voices following bop. Bernie played standards that we recognised, but were none too common: The breeze and I and Memories of you and a tune by Dizzy. I’d mostly place his originals (Spirit song, Brownsville and others) in the post-bop tradition, with latin feels and strong walking swings, but that unique, haunting, impassioned alto sound is unique and renowned and easily recognisable. Band-wise, I was taken by a few things. Those fabulously easy and pure harmonies on the heads from Bernie and Warwick. The way Bernie would meld the melody and Warwick would follow so closely. The long, but never indulgent, solos from all the members, so that the two sets comprised only six tunes. Their incredible ability to hold a slow tempo and space feel in their version of Eubie Blake’s ballad, Memories of you: this was truly musical art. As a band, they sat or swung with ease, but also with conscious purpose.

Individually, they were wonderfully capable, of course, in solos and accompaniment. Bernie’s imploring alto that I mentioned above: mellifluous like honey, but not sweet; earthy as blown dust; ethereal as an unexpected shooting star; assured but allowing of doubt and ever forming, as true emotions are. Warwick was the other front liner, with a sinuous trumpet that merged so perfectly with Bernie on the heads, but veered into a very diverse style on solos. He was superbly defined in his statements, etude-like in his accuracy and clarity of purpose, precise in pitch and articulation. But I felt a real willingness to move the beat: well behind on some fast pieces for a bluesy authority, and over the beat for some ballads for a sense of urgency. His ability to form lines of eighth notes, then sixteenth, seemed unlimited: practised and precise, but never without purpose. That’s without even mentioning the way he grew each solo, controlling form and flow. Overwhelming trumpeting. Brendan’s just a war horse for swing with his enviable clarity of harmony and with never a passing chord missed. The notes weren’t unexpected, but they flowed with ease, and the expectation we had of each note was evidence of his skill. And then solos. One was truly sublime: a whole solo of double stops that was a thing of beauty. Others were more standard boppy outings. I noticed how they were quiet after the horns up front, but also how the audience was all ears to catch them. Andrew was the post-bop drummer: steady in time but busy; hard fighting and energetic; interjections that were more loud than sharp. Pushing his colleagues but ever ready to respond in kind. I felt Warwick particularly responding to his goading in solos.

Great night. Bernie McGann (alto) led his quartet with Warwick Alder (trumpet), Brendan Clarke (bass) and Andrew Dickeson (drums).

Other worldly

The Space Cadets played at Gods the other night. It’s a strong combination of youth and long experience, presenting very earthy music from post- and hard-bop into the 70s: loud and hot and richly improvised, but at times gentle or expressive. John Pochee, that long-renowned drummer, was perhaps responsible for that (this drum seat is not a back seat). It made it a memorable night of originals and a string of tunes from several greats.

They started with Pochee’s opener by Matthew Ottignon: a hard bop tune which was Blakey-esque in commitment and go-ahead blowing and good, solid volume. Then another Blakey reference in Good for the soul, by ex-jazz Messenger Don Harrison, that was considerably more circumscribed and simply melodic. Then a gentle piece called Constant stream by Roger Frampton, the musical genius who is so often resurrected by the Sydney jazz establishment. I remember seeing him on piano and soprano; the respect is obviously justified; he was a giant of that era of Australia jazz. Then Freddie Hubbard’s Happy time, and a wonderful, comprehensively exploratory take of an Ornette Coleman tune, Trigonomety, in which all the players weaved through melodies and grooves with clarity and intelligence and aural communion. The second set mostly comprised a suite of 4 pieces by Matthew Ottignon called Space which travelled nicely through a range of feels and emotions, then a light and pleasant last number by Christian McBride called In a hurry. Looking back, it was a very successful combination of tunes that took the audience through both entertaining and profound musics with jovial comments from John Pochee to meld it all together. Very nicely programmed, and an indication of the maturity and experience of the band leader.

More on youth and experience: this band had it all. On the experience side was John Pochee, a drummer with decades of history in Australian jazz behind him. His story about how he first heard Ornette Coleman said it all: he and mates had read about him, and he finally got a listen to the first LP of Ornette imported into Australia sometime in the early 60s (and the landlord turned off the power part way through). John’s power and commitment from the first beats and richly varying rhythms pushed the outfit from the top. Warwick Alder is a similarly experienced and respected player. His playing was clear with beautifully formed trumpet tone and often punctuated but sweet and clear lines. Matthew Ottignon played a responsive tenor to Warwick, much softer in impact and with a different, more flowing and extended melodic sense, but still forming nice harmonies and interesting parallel solos. Earlier on, Greg Coffin seemed to me fairly tonal and mainstream, but he let go into varied harmonies and dissonance in a far more modern style as the night went on. And Mark Harris, bassist with the band for a first gig, was wonderfully impressive. He used a softly rounded tone and deadened sustain to play some outstanding solos, constantly high into thumb positions, fast, intriguing: a masterful performance, doubly so given this was his first appearance with a band and it was playing rabidly improvised music like Ornette’s.

Just a last bit of humour from the show as memory of a hot and inventive night. Miro had apparently provided an urgent fix to Warwick’s trumpet. The result? A snippet of 60s pop-latin, and the comment: “What have you done to it, Miro?”. Brilliantly funny on the night.