Tubal Hip

Trombone is having its place in the sun in small as well as large ensembles. But tuba remains a rare instrument, despite its outing when the Sam Young Quartet played last night at Hippo. Valdis Thomann (trombone, tuba) was the player who revived this big and impressive brass horn for us. His partners in the quartet were Sam Young (drums), Aron Lyon (guitar) and Gareth Hill (bass). And the quartet became a quintet when Miroslav Bukovsky joined in for later sets.

The tuba was fun. Big and clumsy, with a deep and sweet brass sound. Valdis played it both as a rhythm instrument (at times in unison with the bass), and as a pretty slow solo instrument. Nice to hear (and very difficult not to see) but totally obscuring the player below the bell.

But the night was more than tuba. The band started with John Scofield’s tight and simple tune, Cool. Then on to a range of originals by various band members. They varied in time and rhythm. There was 6/4; there was an occasional walk, but the bass lines were mostly syncopated and funked up. There was sharp and open and expressive drumming from Sam; good solid, ever-reliable bass lines from Gareth; dirty and distorted, middy electric guitar solos and some lovely airy soundscapes from Aron using wah and echo. Valdis pulled tuneful and fairly bluesy baritone sounds from the trombone, performing with real physical involvement. The tenor of the night changed somewhat when Miro joined in. The melodies obviously displayed richer harmonies, with that lovely sweet tonality of a brass front line. Miro’s solos were fast and challenging, and the band sounded just a bit harder and tighter and more intense. The tunes they played with Miro also seemed longer and more composed/arranged. For me, these were the highlight the of night. These were more worldly and meditative; I thought here of storytelling and even magic realism.

A nice night of restrained volume and comforable, worldly music. It will be interesting to compare the performance in few weeks when they appear as the Gareth Hill Quartet at the Gods.

Ben’s big band

Ben Marston commenced his Jazz Project for 2008 with a big band session in the Street Theatre on Sunday. Big bands present a high level of complexity in organisation and in presentation, so they are not too common, but they are blissful in tone and complexity. It’s doubly difficult and impressive when you are composing and arranging all the music, as Ben did.

The concert was in two sets, with plenty of variation in harmony and tonality. The first set opened with a dissonant tune with a political theme: “Canberra does not say anything” was indignation at Canberra standing in for Parliament and Government in the media. The next two tunes also had a Canberra theme, but were more joyous and pleasant, picturing a Garema Street Parade and Canberra’s autumn weather. These three tunes comprised the Canberra Suite. I particularly liked the complex, moody piece that followed. “Accidental instigation” was apparently written for, and played by, Ben’s band of recent years, 12 Tone Family. This was controlled, composed, emotive music. The set ended with James switching to electric bass and a stronger groove for the rest of the concert. Theophanaic synchronicity was the last tune of the first set. I’m not sure what the tune represented (although Theophanous is a federal political name) but I remember it as sixteenth notes with plenty of soloing from trumpet and other. The groove continued in the second set, along with some recurring references: a searing comment on politics in Dance of Disillusionment, and a gentler reference to Canberra weather in December rains. There was a gentler Lament for music, with some expressive soloing by John Mackey. But the feature for me was another suite, the perfectly expressive, and suitably worldly, African Roadside suite. It was made up of three pictorial tunes which described a car journey in Rwanda: a red earth roundabout, an open road journey, and the obvious relief in relaxation on arrival. More impressions? Several pieces of written counterpoint; quite a few guitar solos from Lachlan, and leads and solos from Ben; an expressive solo from John Mackay; and some collective solos, one of two trombones, another of alto and baritone sax.

The encore was a case of sublime to ridiculous. Ben has played many small band outings with this rhythm section at Trinity on Tuesday nights. Madonna’s Material girl has become a standard at these sessions. It forms a great little groove for a blow; Chris, Lachlan, James and Ben carried it off with humour and funky precision. Nice one.

The event was well supported, with lots of family and friends, so it was one of those pleasant jazz events with an easy and intimate atmosphere. I doubt it was so easy for ArtSound who recorded the event. Theirs was a challenging job, with more mics in the mix than I’ve seen them use before, and two mixers on the go.

Ben’s project returns to the Street Theatre on 15 Jun, 14 Sept and 7 Dec, all Sunday afternoons at the Street Theatre. Apparently the next concert will be broadcast nationally by ABC-FM. For once, the media can say Canberra and we can feel comfortable with the label. Ben will be pleased!

The band comprised: Miroslav Bukovsky, Dan Mclean, Ben Marston (trumpets), Alistair Clarke, Valdis Thomann, Rob Lee, Dave Hicks (trombones), Adam Mathews, Andrew Pogson, John Mackey, Joe Lloyd, James LeFevre (saxes), Chris Thwaite (drums), James Luke (bass), Lachlan Coventry (guitar), Wayne Kelly (piano).

From Melbourne & Montreux

Jamie Oehlers was back in Canberra last night with his Quartet. It’s the same band that played so impressively at Hippos a year or so back. And the music was similarly passionate and committed, which suited an audience of mainly appreciative students.

Jamie is renowned as one of our best tenor players, having won a prize at Montreux Festival, and more recently, the 2007 Australian jazz artist of the year. I don’t much like prizes in art, but you have to be good to win and Jamie is. He’s fluid both in sound and body; mobile, complex, fast. His responses to harmonies are challenging and varying; his melodies are fleeting and embellished; his commitment intense. This is not music for the tame. Sam K seems more musically approachable and immediate at first sight. His solos articulate in a way that seems more obvious, and yet they too delve into constantly-changing dissonance, so perhaps the initial impression is just that: an impression. He was also blissful on solo piano at various times, with a Yamaha grand to confirm the tonal richness. Sam A and Ben are masters. I’ve heard them several times at Hippo. More recently, I was overwhelmed by their performances at Wangaratta as the support players for the guitar competition. They played all range of styles at the highest level, with aptness and capability, for both consistently impressive solos and reliable, propulsive support. They didn’t need to suffer contestants’ nerves and they were always warmed up, but this was challenging in other ways: constant variation, long playing, and great responsibility to the contestants, and they did them proud. Sam told me he’d been totally exhausted after the festival; I can imagine. On the night, they each played superbly. Comfortable walks and solid rhythms from Sam. He soloed on a Paul Williamson lullaby as the leader of a collective improvisation; expressive and integral rather than individual and out front. And my impression of Ben was similar. It was as if he just released solos and rhythms from the music, as if they were already there and just needed a cage door to be opened for freedom.

The Quartet played two sets, each of 5 tunes and each lasting about 60 minutes with no wasted time for chatter. Tunes included several from Jamie himself, as well as one each from Tomas Stanko, Sam Rivers (Beatrice), Paul Williamson, Coltrane (Dear Lord), and Ellington (Caravan). Caravan was mightily re-visioned with new time structures. The students were all discussing it in the break. Dave Rodrugues’s count of 17/4 as 7-7-3 was accepted; the timing on the bridge was deceptive and not straight but noone had a count for that. Beatrice was malleable, flowing, smooth, and somewhat veiled in performance: not veiled by arrangement, but by rich modern substitutions and harmonic flights obscuring the underlying chords. The other tunes were as rich. The Paul Williamson tune and Coltrane’s Dear Lord were ethereal and beauteous. The Tomas Stanko piece, and Jamie’s final original, Replicator, were hot and alive with energy. And I guess a final impression is of dynamics; from delicate piano to stomping swing, it was there and under control.

So, this was a challenging and rewarding performance for those who got there. Keep an eye out for more concerts at the ANU Band Room.

The Quartet comprised Jamie Oehlers (tenor sax), Sam Keevers (piano), Sam Anning (bass) and Ben Vanderwal (drums).

The Fevre at Hippo

By Daniel Wild

As I had to catch the last and “relatively late” bus at 11:25pm I was unable to catch the third set of this gig – the time when a band usually breaks loose and you may even see a few loose dancers rise from the audience.

The first two sets had a mixture of west coast and bebop styles, mostly originals. It is refreshing to hear a trombone as it can really bolster the depth of a small group and hint at a big band sound. Rob Lee’s trombone was restrained and inventive, adding another layer to the heads of tunes and a mellow contrast to Le Fevre’s more cerebral solos. Lee seemed fully in control and created good space and rhythmic freedom while exploring the trombone’s murky registers.

James Le Fevre built up his solos nicely, both in an individual sense, and as the evening progressed. By the second set he was emitting some adventurous squeaks, squeals, anguished wails and grunts reminiscent of Dizzy Gillespie. Evan Dorrian did a good job backing Le Fevre’s syncopated melodies on drums. Most of the first two sets had driving straight-eights beats and Dorrian didn’t get distracted by Le Fevre’s intrepidity, managing some well timed flourishes. His drum solos had taste and tonal interest, with varying attacks and good use of the high-hat and side drums. He might have overused the drum-roll and could think about taking the beat further out during his solos.

The bass was fine with Kane Watters swapping between an electric bass and what appeared to be a five string acoustic bass, although my eyes may have deceived me. The fusion nature of the music wasn’t suited to bass soloing so there weren’t many of these. Also, perhaps the electric bass was a touch too loud – it had a good clear percussive attack though.

Ben Foster was cool and refined on keys, using mostly Hammond organ effects. I wouldn’t have minded an occasional use of piano but that could have destroyed the continuity of the electric ambience. My only wish to hear piano stems from being a bit of a jazz piano purist and wanting to see someone with Ben Foster’s skills show off his chops.

The first piece had a decidedly Herbie Hancock feel with a funky bass and laid back organ flavourings. Later Foster made use of “wah-wah” synth effects, and, as the second set slowed pace, watery electric piano accompanied LeFevre’s musings. The second piece had interesting harmonic content as eastern scales were explored and blended with a jazz sensibility. The Coltrane influence is here: Le Fevre likes to achieve the dry sound, jagged scalar patterns and eastern influences of Coltrane’s later years.

Apart from Hancock, that other doyen of electric jazz, Sun Ra, was also in evidence. One piece began with spacey, pulsating synth effects and the interplay between trombone and sax was well balanced during looser improvisations while maintaining tension.

The audience enjoyed the evening. People of all ages jostled for sitting room while Canberra jazz school students such as drummer Mark Body and trombonist Sophie were in attendance. John Mackey arrived during the second set and watched appreciatively from the bar. James leads his band well – his quintet contains a promising group of growing local musicians.

Pics coming soon

James LeFevre Quintet's website

Big year 2008

Despite the sad demise of White Eagle last year, 2008 is shaping up as a big year for jazz in Canberra. Hippo remains active on Wednesdays with plenty of overseas and interstate visitors. Geoff Page’s Jazz at the Gods series has 9 monthly concerts spread over the year. The Mace Francis Big Band from Perth is visiting in July and Ben Marston is running a series of big band concerts at the Street Theatre. The Street Theatre is also featuring the renowned NY sax/clarinetist Don Byron in May and has recently hosted the Necks. The Jazz School has three more concerts in the first semester, featuring Steve Magnussen from Melbourne, and the US sax player John Gordon. There will be more large ensembles at those concerts. The Moruya Festival (the Canberra jazz family get-together) is in October. For some, there are other festivals: Wangaratta, Merimbula, Wagga, Thredbo. There are several bars and clubs featuring jazz, so there’s something to listen to on most nights. The Julep Lounge in Manuka Seems to be following in the tracks of Hippo with the best local players on Thursday nights. The Belgian Beer Cellar, the Kurrajong, the Casino, Trinity and others have regular jazz. And I fully expect to hear of more events during the year.

I keep CJCalendar up-to-date with everything I hear about, so keep an eye on it. And if you know of any gigs that are missing from the calendar, please advise by email.

If you are a budding music journalist or photographer, I’d be happy to hear from you and I’d welcome your input. It’s looking a busy year for me too, and I can’t get to it all.

BTW, this is CJBlog’s 200th post.

Eric (ed.)

Season’s end at the George

It was a perfect day for jazz in a beer garden. The beer was English ale on tap; the band was Funky Fedoras with Angela Lount out front and one of the hardest swinging, and most capable, back lines in town.

I could only stay a short time, so I just heard the smooth dinner music set (for this, read standards and lounge) but they were lusciously performed, with Angela’s deep, rich rounded voice, rock steady swing, plenty of traded fours, and great solos from both Wayne and James. Wayne is always a great performer. This was a big change after hearing him as McCoy Tyner playing Love Supreme only days before, and it confirmed his versatility. This was chordal solos, octaves, block chords, and occasional modern interpolations. I was stunned by one passage that meandered off, sounding dangerously close to free, but fell back effortlessly to swing; lovely. James hinted at his spacious, funky Tuesday evening gigs at Trinity with fluent fretless solos, but this was more passing chords and cycles of fifths, rather than sparse, horizontal playing. But again, satisfying and comfortable. Chris had plenty of opportunities for swapping, and did that in his melodic, understated style. Angela’s rich, low pitched voice sat comfortably over this bubbling background with clear, sonorous vitality, and an easy stage presence. I can see why this is a busy corporate band around town.

Angela told us that Jazz at the George was closing up for the season. Given it was such a perfect day, it was doubly sad to hear, but it will presumably be back with the Spring. The Autumn/Winter period in Canberra is chilly at times, and the jazz retreats indoors, so this is not unexpected. But sitting with a beer in my hand on a perfect day, it did seem a loss.

The Funky Fedoras are Angela Lount (vocal), Wayne Kelly (piano), James Luke (bass) and Chris Thwaite (drums).

Love supreme at the Gods

John Mackey and his quartet inaugurated the Jazz at the Gods series for 2008 with a Coltrane memorial concert, featuring a full performance of Trane’s classic album, A Love Supreme. This band previously performed Love supreme at Hippo a few months back, and I raved about it here. This was a different performance. For me, it was more quiet and reflective (pretty much inevitable when you compare the two venues), a little less ecstatic but perhaps intellectually more satisfying. The segments of the piece seemed more obvious and defined; the playing generally more comfortable, and the audience less intrusive.

John was playing a borrowed 1957 Selmer Mark VI which was in wonderful condition and sounded like chocolate butter, so he was quiet and thoughtful in reinterpreting his idol. This was engaging and satisfying playing, reenacting the solos and harmonies of Coltrane of the period. His authenticity was confirmed by the look of respect and glee on Jonathan’s face as he sat out. Wayne was a pleasure with fourth chords echoing the real McCoy, and generally an ease and fluency and familiarity with Tyner’s comping and solo style. I especially liked his playing on a blues segment later in the piece. Interestingly, Wayne sits out a good bit in this performance, as did Jonathon playing the Jimmy Garrison bass role. There were several passages with drums and sax, and of course the masterful drum solo intro to Pursuance. Mark played these and more with real skill: powerful and clean, but also gentle and reflective at times. I couldn’t see the players from where I sat, and was left wondering how he performed some passages. I remember one spot with kick drum and toms (and perhaps snare with the snare off?) accompanied with cymbal washes that left me a dumbfounded. Now how did he do that? Last time I talked to him he only had two arms and two legs. Jonathan had problems with his sound in this painted, brick-walled space, but played with great enjoyment (his face is often smiling and engaging) and real capability. There are several passages in Love Supreme where we hear solo bass, and these were a pleasure: the mantra that introduces and farewells the first track, Acknowledgement, and the bass solo featuring chords and a fascinating falling 16th note triplet feel preceding Resolution.

Otherwise, the band played a short first set of three tunes: Invitation, In a sentimental mood, and Take the Coltrane. Then Love supreme as the second set, with a swinging, fairly relaxed version of Coltrane’s signature piece, Giant steps, as an encore. It was another night of soaring, emotive early 60’s jazz from John and crew, and much enjoyed. ArtSound was recording, so keep an ear open for the broadcast.

John Mackey (tenor sax), Wayne Kelly (piano), Jonathan Zwartz (bass), Mark Sutton (drums).

Ornette

By Daniel Wild

It’s not every Sunday evening two massive cruise-ships, or floating hotels, embark and dock at Circular Quay. Nor is it every Sunday that Ornette Coleman plays at the Opera House. As the ship spotters moved about the harbour foreshore, enjoying the sun, bands and … big ships … a segment of the crowd made its way to the Concert Hall to hear one of the remaining legends of jazz. Among the expectant concert-goers were drummer John Pochee, “Freebopper” Mark Simmons, saxophonist Matt Ottignon and pianist Alister Spence.

As an appetiser we were treated to the music of Mark Atkins. As Coleman has played with the Joujouka musicians of Africa and expressed an interest in touring the Northern Territory it was a pity Atkins and Coleman didn’t play together. Not a show-off by any means, Atkins’ didgeridoo playing was evocative and summoned the spirit of the outback. One piece told of a showdown between emu and dog. There was the dog’s bark as it hunted the emu and the emu’s laughter as it outwitted the dog. These sound effects were superimposed on long undulating drones. Atkins also demonstrated that he can play a major third – a technical feat that Coltrane could do on his tenor sax. Atkins also called upon his days as a rhythm guitarist while accompanying himself on didj – a feat that must require a great deal of dexterity and concentration.

After a brief interval the doyen of progressive improvisation appeared. Ornette Coleman shuffled slowly on stage in a dapper blue suit, without his trademark hat, and spoke softly into the microphone. Any hints of feebleness were swiftly dashed as his band, which included two electric basses and one acoustic bass, with son Denardo on drums, launched into a typical Coleman tune – flighty, ethereal, at times lyrical then percussive – which seemed to be over soon after it started. Whether his compositions are short and packed with meaning, or whether I was simply lifted by the waves of sound and fell into a trance I cannot say. Coleman knows how to end a tune – the abrupt, but very tight finishes were always unexpected, whimsical, statement making, and entirely appropriate for jazz. Not like Coltrane’s habit of winding up and down modes when the piece is ending. Coleman’s abrupt endings signify the duality between the musical world of ideas and the blanket of silence that envelopes and jerks the listener back to reality.

Coleman’s melodic lines often floated around the perfect fifth and minor third, with suggestions of a pull back to a tonic. His inflections over the perfect fifth were lyrical and tapped raw emotion. The basses never sounded extraneous or busy. The acoustic bass was often bowed, while one electric bass played fast walking bass lines and the other was played almost like a guitar, achieving a soft, rounded and subtle sound. The counterpoint of three basses was exciting and a full of momentum. While Denardo’s drumming was fast it wasn’t frenetic, and left plenty of room for statements from Coleman and the bass players.

Conventional jazz idioms, such as walking bass and swing were not overused. Denardo often played straight 8s on the ride cymbal and against this regular pattern would emerge Ornette’s solos – within the frame, but not confined to the beat. It is hard to put your finger on his sense of swing. When he plays fast runs the beat is certain. When he is lilting around a note he has fixated on or puncturing notes in the air the swing is less certain. At times the music swung hard and would have suited the intimacy of a jazz club, but Coleman can not be pigeonholed easily. Some compositions, usually the slower ones, were right at home in the concert hall, as if the quintet had transformed into a chamber group. Classical themes explored included Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring, Bach’s Cello Suit and Amazing Grace.

Ornette Coleman briefly played the violin in one of his pieces, getting a shimmering sound from rapid tremolo. His trumpet work was very interesting. It seemed as if one instrument melded into another – the transitions between the two instruments were not blatantly noticeable, but rather changed the atmosphere. Several times he elicited chuckles from the audience as he put his saxophone down and emitted some sharp animalistic sounds on the trumpet. This was a very refreshing concert. He duly gave the audience their wanted encore, finishing with Lonely Woman.

Ambient resonance

The Necks are jazz players, but what they perform is a haunting, mesmeric, hypnotic form of ambient soundscaping that breaks from traditions and audience to find new sounds and new devotees. These guys have become stars, with international acclaim and numerous CDs to their name.

I knew something of what to expect when I attended. I’d heard some Necks on CD, and watched a TV broadcast of a set, and for what it’s worth, had seen Lloyd Swanton several times in other incarnations. The Necks were a favourite of a post-seminary sax player I once knew, but I’d found them too macrocosmic or ecospheric for my philosophically materialist tastes. After two sets, I was much impressed, if not a spiritual convert. In the end, art’s still a matter of taste, but this was deeply intriguing stuff.

The Necks are a piano trio, but not a common one. Most obviously, each set was a long, apparently free, improvisation. From the start, I noticed the regularity and precision of the minimal bass riff over long repetitions: none too easy to achieve. And the busy and repetitive scalar runs on the piano. The tune developed as four chords against a bass pedal, initially in 4/4 with some simple bass syncopation. The drums took a while to join in (nothing happens too suddenly here), then a busy bass drum which felt like it was expressing a melody, but there was none elsewhere. All the while, I was being lured, siren like, into this growing maelstrom of restrained tension. Then there were voices, but no singers, and strings, but there were none. Where were these sounds from? I listened, but still couldn’t find the source. (In the foyer at the interval, someone suggested recordings, but I trusted the players more than that). Sometimes I could pick a busy high-pitched piano pattern with softly, softly attack which formed the mysterious tonality. Another time, I realised it was a tapped bass E string, played while Lloyd was otherwise bowing. But oftentimes, these sounds were quite undiscoverable. The piano had dissolved into attack-free tonalities: sometimes organic; sometimes unearthly, synthetic, like orchestration for ‘50s sci-fi movies. In the end, I put it down to resonances, primarily in the piano, a big, hefty grand which presumably resonates richly. The intensity and busy-ness was there to create resonances, and the level was sufficiently low to hear them. Listening on, we were in 6/4, with a hornet’s nest of buzzing, beating regularity. There had been change, but who’d noticed? This was minimal, but ambient more than minimalist; I expected maybe Philp Glass arpeggiation, but this was more scalar; not chordal, although there were repeating, simple, disguised chord patterns accompanied by bass pedals. And no melody at all that I could hear. The second set had similar intellectual and emotional responses. The bass was bowed; the drums more rattled; the piano sounds were repeated, this time hinting at your first explorations of endless loops and echo units with a call and response theme on piano. The sound grew in intensity and volume, then receded to end after another hypnotic hour. Hour? Yep. This one seemed shorter; the audience seemed more attuned. As I left, someone commented that he’d wanted to laugh with “sensory overload”. His girlfriend admonished him.

Not jazz like I know, but performed by capable players. All listening: no visual cues in sight. Ambient and minimal; hypnotic and attractive; mysterious and tonally deceptive; beautiful and even refreshing. Many would say spiritual (a hackneyed and misused adjective). Ambient is not something I’d choose every night, but The Necks were engrossing and satisfying and much recommended.

The Necks are Lloyd Swanton (bass), Chris Abrahams (piano) and Tony Buck (drums).

Tonight, live from ArtSound

Chris Deacon invited me down to the Manuka studio for the first recording for ArtSound’s new live in the studio sessions. These sessions will include live studio recordings and selected concerts from the large collection of live recordings that ArtSound have been making over many years. The new studios are much improved on the old facilities at Curtin. They offer a great opportunity for local musicians to perform for their public and to make professional-quality recordings.

I was lucky enough to catch Niels Rosendahl (tenor sax) playing with Jazz School mates, Ed Rodriques (drums) and Bill Williams (bass). Chris Deacon was engineering. Niels Rosendahl has been based in London or the last few years. He’s a sad loss to Canberra, but certainly a great ambassador. His playing matures each time he makes a visit back home, so it’s a pleasure to catch up with him. He was talking of touring in Europe with the Rat Pack Show (Rat Pack as in Sinatra & co, I assume) and with the Glen Miller Memorial Orchestra, playing Glen Miller tunes and other big band swing. Interestingly, he reported that Craig Schneider (cabaret pianist, musical director and fellow Canberran and Jazz School alumnus) is with the Scandinavian branch of the Rat Pack Show.

The recording was a session of standards. I caught the second set: Beautiful love, John Carisi’s Israel, Round midnight morphing into Have you met Miss Jones, Stella by starlight, Tenor madness and Someday my prince will come. Obvious tunes, but played with an impressive modernistic vision. Niels sounded wonderfully relaxed, with long sustained lines, modal patterns, and gloriously reshaped melodies. This was not generally out playing, but melodies were anticipated and twisted and changed in emotionally satisfying ways and solos were considered investigations of the underlying harmonies. This was a long way post bop; lovely playing. And Ed and Bill were there with him. Bill’s walks were lessons in interest. The underlying harmony is there, but the four-note patterns which define the bass walk were ever changing, seldom obvious or hackneyed. Bill has told me of his efforts to make his walks interesting. He’s doing a good job. Ed is always responsive to fellow players: smiling, watching, interpreting. The studio is a less alive environment, especially for a drummer sandwiched behind glass and gobbos, but he’s still communicative and subtle in his stick and brush work. They were all wrung out by the intensity of a studio session, and complaining about their playing. If you know musos, complaints are plenty common. But I’ll beg to differ. This was a level above the much of the everyday local scene, with authentic modernistic interpretations of these otherwise common tunes.

Keep your ears open for more from ArtSound. Going hand in hand with live studio recordings, I hear that AS is joining a European network which will provide Euro jazz for performance in Canberra, but also take our best recordings for broadcast in Europe. For this, read new audiences for our best local players. AS is a great force for good for jazz in Canberra. Congrats and thanks.

Canberra’s Argentinian connection

Latin is a key component in the stylistic repertoire of jazz. Tango is Argentina’s version of latin, and Astor Piazzolla is tango’s great composer. So I was interested to attend a minor opera, in a style called Tango Operita, which had two outings under the musical direction of Marcela Fiorillo at the Multicultural Festival.

Marcela’s an interesting story and a great addition to the Canberra musical scene. She is Argentinian-born and a former professor in the piano department at the Superior Conservatory of Music “Manuel de Falla” in Buenos Aires. Apparently she met her mate in Canberra, and now lives here. It’s a pleasing story of internationalism, and one very much to Canberra’s advantage. Canberra is like that: understated, but over-represented with capable and interesting people. I guess it’s the way of the bureaucrat.

The operita was Maria de Buenos Aires, with music by Astor Piazzolla and a libretto by Horacio Ferrer. It tells a strange and sometimes amusing story with obvious references to Maria as Madonna, but also as the personification of the tango and the city. Maria goes to the heart of Buenos Aires, visits the sewers, becomes a prostitute, dies, attends a psychoanalyst, is resurrected and eventually has a child who is not Jesus but another baby Maria, perhaps the self-same Maria resurrected from her own shadow by the love of the Goblin. Mmm … such is opera.

The cast included Marcela on piano, three voices, six musicians, and a mixed choir of eight (details below). I have various impressions. The latin rhythm and the low ranges of the voices, the rough but so apt performance of the small male and female choirs, the frequency and rhythm of Spanish speech (the goblin only spoke, the choir spoke its lines).

The performers were classically trained, but there was close relation to jazz forms. Marcela’s parts were presumably fully written. It interested me that it was spot on for what I’d expect from a good jazz pianist improvising from a much sparser lead sheet. But what reading skills! As for reading, the violin had a busy job too, and performed it with panache. This was a thing of real beauty. The flautist also featured on the diminutive piccolo, and the cello was busy with feature melodies. I don’t picture classical players performing latin with ease, but this seemed authentic and was certainly satisfying. Perhaps this is a travesty, but I would have liked to have heard a jazz drum kit in there, but I’m sure it’s not written for that. This is essentially rhythmic music, and classical percussion doesn’t quite lock in the pocket or push the groove in the way jazz players do. But I was satisfied to see feet tapping on stage. The goblin tapped persistently and his spoken words were beautifully musical and rhythmic. Maria also tapped at times. The infectious grooves were insinuating themselves.

As for the work itself, by the end I was finding it a bit repetitive. The rhythm varied (tango, waltz, and triplet feels like 12/8 and 9/8) but the chords were pretty repetitive, as were some melodies. Jazz uses similarly repetitive tunes, but empowers them through improvisation, so it’s alive and constantly changing. The written version provided some great solos, a surreal story, and wonderful playing, but towards the end, I came to think I’d heard the changes once too often.

But there’s no doubting the performance. To perform a piece with this complexity with a non-standing group and with only two performances is stunning. Classical players do this every day, of course, and it’s a great strength. But it’s got its down side: not quite so close to the music, or quite so comfortable with it. The encore showed this dramatically, as they repeated a favourite song by Maria with relaxation and dynamics and flare that was missing from the serious part of the performance, where everyone was concentrating hard on a challenging task. There’s no questioning of the players here. They were fabulous and supremely competent, but you just can’t bring together something as complex as this for a few performances, and expect to perform it with the intimacy that comes from frequent performances by a standing ensemble.

The performers were: Marcela Fiorillo (piano and musical director), Bronwyn Sullivan (vocals, Maria), Alejandro Machuron (vocals, Goblin), Eduardo Cogorno (vocals, various characters), Julian Smiles (cello), Dimity Hall (violin), Max McBride (bass), Virginia Taylor (flute, piccolo), Veronica Walshaw (percussion), Charles Martin (tuned percussion as in vibes, marimba), Ota de la Rocha, Cesar Molina, Javier Ribalta, Mabel Castro, Gabriela Cabral, Bibi Amstein, Carmen Diaz, James Gifford (chorus, various characters), Judy Clingan (choral director), Jorge Bagnini (artistic director).

It was an interesting and entertaining night out, and a superb performance all round by these players. Stunning stuff, and surprisingly close to the jazz which is the raison d’etre of CJ.

Salute to Carl & Sorry Day

John Mackey’s Quartet grew to a sextet last night to send off Carl Morgan as he departs for Melbourne. As we expect from John, this was a greatly satisfying few sets of modern jazz in a fervid and fiery, early 60s style. Coltrane is always evident in John’s playing, and with trumpet and several of the back line John used for his Coltrane retrospective, this was a deeply satisfying gig for this lover of that period.

I find it interesting how different players take your attention one night, then disappear into the woodwork another. There are probably various factors – the listener’s frame of mind, the player’s chops or commitment on the night, the sound or clarity or environment. As a bassist, I obviously take an inordinate interest in that instrument, but acoustic bass is so often hard to hear and so to distinguish note choices. Bass is often a thump that satisfies. The front liners are virtually always clear and distinguishable; the drums too. Piano can get lost, especially as Rhodes, but does better than bass.

Last night, Mark Sutton’s drums were the focus for me. This was a performance of great mastery: freely interpreting melodies and structure; constantly churning beats and grooves against the underlying rhythm patterns; clean and clearly intentioned playing throughout. I also have a standing focus on sax. It’s the voice of jazz, doubly so for this period. I remember reading that to study soloing, regardless of your instrument, listen to the sax player. There’s some truth in this (although each instrument has its own limitations and characters and quirks which influence improvisation). Saxes seem to have it all – voice-like articulation, pitch and tonal variation, and a natural tendency to interesting phrasing. John was fast, impassioned, exploratory as always; sheets and sprays of chordal and melodic flurries over the full range of the horn; rich, rounded sounds and occasional quotes; and clear as a tutorial in effective modern playing. I loved his solo rendition of In a sentimental mood, which was all lone saxist leaning from NY loft window. But Mark and John were not alone. Miro was wonderfully structured and searching in his solos and throwaway flourishes. Carl threw chordal colours in with blistering guitar solo lines. Wayne was pensive on the night. I particularly liked his comping to John with mobile fourths tonalities. Chris is just entering 2nd year, but his tone is full, his intonation good, his beat accurate and steady, his walks fast, and his one short solo was impressive, too.

The tunes were not ones I readily recognised. There was Pantano Drive, the title track from John’s CD, and perhaps others from this CD. There was at least one that sounded like it came from the pen of Miro. Even Sentimental mood, being solo sax, was well disguised.

The jazz year is young, and I felt the night started pretty laid back, but it intensified even as the audience dissipated and the listeners took over. Quality playing and a favourite style made this a pleasure for me, and a fitting end to an emotionally satisfying national Sorry Day.

John Mackey (tenor sax) played with Miroslav Bukovsky (trumpet), Carl Morgan (guitar), Wayne Kelly (piano), Chris Pound (bass) and Mark Sutton (drums).

Fringe dabber didj

The Multicultural festival is here again, and there are a few artists I’m hoping to catch up with. Last night, I managed two at the Fringe Festival marquee in Civic Square: Circle of Fire and Tjupurru.

The Fringe is a good place to see most of the visiting acts. It’s stylishly bohemian although it attracts all types, it’s free, and you have plenty of space and tent openings to move around, change your view, dance, chat, or just mill about. There’s seating too: tables and couches like a comfy lounge room, although I noticed the carpet was a bit squishy after recent rains. And it’s free. A nice combination. There are events on at the Fringe tent each evening for the next two weeks, from 7pm to late. See the program of acts at the Multicultural Festival’s site.

Circle of Fire are three drummers: tabla, western kit (although not always played with standard technique) and mixed percussion. The players are Greg Sheehan, Bobby Singh and Ben Walsh (I’m not sure who’s who). This was rhythmic set, as you’d imagine. The call for quiet for a tabla feature, in recognition of his years of training, was rather twee in this festival environment, and the finale of two players alternating on western kit was showy, but it went over well as a performance. The show was popular, there were lots of dancers, and the rhythms were genuinely complex and interesting, although not hypnotic. The venue didn’t really lend itself to hypnotics, anyway.

During and between the music sets we were presented with a performance art show of slowly moving bodies under colourful lighting. It certainly added more interest than the canvas curtain walls, and made for mobile and colourful surroundings. I understood this group was called Writer in a Box.

Tjupurru followed with a set of modern, Aboriginal music, at least I guess that’s what it was. He essentially performed a one-man-band set with that mesmeric combination of didgeridoo and voice, but this had a very modern twist. The traditional was there with a self-confident Aboriginal pride and respect for the traditional owners of the land, but there was also a very modern black awareness. The didj was a slide instrument, it was wireless miked and amplified along with his voice, the richness of the corroborree was created by layering voice and didj with digital loops. This was the past brought into the present: a fascinating performance and pleasingly and genuinely Australia. And to confirm the Aboriginal pride, there was a good deal of politics, too: well received by the audience, and well matched to this time of Sorry saying and the hope that comes with a new government.

Good music all round, and near enough for jazz.

National Multicultural Festival

Woes at ANU School of Music

Sadly, the financial woes of the ANU School of Music came to a head this week. Apparently the Vice Chancellor, Ian Chubb, spoke to staff about their parlous state, and offered a few options for the future. The Jazz School is in bumptious good health, with a surplus of students wishing to enter each year. Sadly, the classical school is not so robust: it’s suffering from an widespread, international drop in students wishing to study Western fine music.

The classical school was considered perhaps the top music school in Australia in its early days It was set up to cater for all orchestral instruments, and there lies its greatest threat. It seems that some areas are bringing in the students (Keyboard Institute, Jazz School and some others), but some teachers have only one or two students. I can understand the financial woes here, given each teacher is funded for a full workload. The options offered were to have teachers paid by student load (presumably meaning the departure of some teachers and contract work for many others), or to specialise in successful areas of study, including jazz and keyboards.

This also has implications for our local professional orchestra, the Canberra Symphony Orchestra (CSO). Apparently the teachers at the school are the mainstay of this orchestra, so dropping support for the full range of instruments will limit the CSO’s ability to access players of a good standard. Our orchestra does not get the government support of professional orchestras interstate (which admittedly serve larger cities, and presumably larger audiences). So both the Music School and the CSO are currently being subsidised by the ANU, and thus other faculties.

The future is looking bleak for the range and quality of music in Canberra, even if our branch, jazz, is thriving.

ANU School of Music

Online article at Canberra Times

Casinò senza casino

It was a relaxing set from Leisa Keen at the Casino last night. Known standards played calmly, with no rush between tunes. I guess that’s appropriate. The crowd has other matters on its mind. This is the soothing background, although I’m not sure if it would do much good if you’re on a losing streak. Leisa told me she’s been working there for a year, and gets good reports from the croupiers like the relaxed jazz atmosphere. They are working at a frenzied pace, and need to keep their heads together, so I imagine it’s just the ticket/token/chip.

I can’t provide a pic because cameras aren’t allowed. Strange, given the huge number of CCT cameras obviously ensconced in domes in the ceiling. But this is another, monied world. A bit tacky perhaps, but it pays and jazzers are getting two gigs a week, so that’s good. And there’s a little patch of bar area for a beer and a listen.

Leisa Keen (vocals, piano) impressed by playing a range of tasks with considerable competence: singing and piano comping, bass lines and soloing. Nicely done. Her trio includes Graeme Reynolds (trumpet) and Ian McLean (drums), so there’s a nice range of tones here. Trumpet is a rarer beast out front, doubly so in trios, so we have a different sound. The tunes were well known standards: The way you look tonight, Almost like being in love, Autumn leaves, My baby just cares for me, Honeysuckle rose, Perhaps3, etc. Leisa’s website shows she’s active in a range of musical formats: choir, musical theatre, cabaret: quite a multi-talent.

There are lots of young girls dressed up and blokes dressed down, as is the way. If you want a night on the gaming floor, or a hint of the greater glories of Monte Carlo or Las Vegas, entrance is free there’s some comformable background music from a range of local jazz outfits each Friday and Saturday evening from 9pm.

Leisa Keen's website