Sprogis and Woods

Sprogis and Woods are presumably the sponsors for the new jazz composition competition associated with the Canberra International Music Festival. This seems to be its first year. It’s judged by Bill Risby, Miroslav Bukovsky and Mike Price. There are associated gigs at the Kingston Markets. Locals Austin Benjamin, Andy Butler, Andy Campbell, Nick Combe, Reuben Lewis, Ben Marston, Matt Lustri, Jack Palmer, Alex Raupach, Neils Rosendahl and Luke Sweeting are in the running. I know compositions from most of this crew, and they are worthy works. I’m glad to hear the judgements are not made from performance at the Kingston Markets. It’s not the place for a serious presentation, being busy and noisy and with the music treated as background. But as a laid back gig, it’s OK. Worth a visit to hear whoever is performing at the time. I think, for the actual competition, there’s a short-listing from CD, then a decision at the finals in the Fitters’ Workshop (of the renowned acoustics). Sadly I can’t make it, but will be interested in the outcome. Someone get there for me… Fitter’s Workshop, Kingston, 4.30pm, Sunday 23 May.

Here are a few pics of competitor Jack Palmer’s band at the Kingston Markets. And thanks form CJ to Sprogis and Woods.

Badass, lyrical

Note: new themes for the day: badass, lyrical

Both were apt for Alex Raupach’s Quintet when the played for ArtSound’s Friday Night Live last night. Take lyrical first. I don’t know what it is, but brass players are just more lyrical. Alex’s compositions were melodic and extended and unforced, as was his playing. From languid rolling pieces to freer forms, these were long lines that moved through harmonies with voice led inevitability. Especially so on the flugelhorn, that most languorous of instruments. Most of the concert was comprised of his compositions. First was Little river, a medium latin piece reminiscent of Freddie Hubbard and the Little Sunflower album. Then a freer style with Leave the lone ranger alone, a comment on our political leaders; What is she, a pensive ballad that borrowed words from Dorothy Porter’s verse novel, The monkey's mask; a dedication to Michael Brecker called MB; and Interphase, a slow modern piece that returned to Sunflower territory. The second set featured a few non-originals: Enrico Rava’s Bella, Eric Dolphy’s medium-up Ode to Charlie Parker, and a freestyle version of Stella and more originals: the lively For Kenny [Dorham] and two slower modern tunes, Mamma you wouldn’t believe it and Near people. Alex is a capable composer: complex chordal structures that underlie melodies that move and modulate with ease. Very nice.

The whole band was comfortable. John Wilton may question that, given he was a ring-in for the night, but he handled the job well with concentration and committed understatement. Rachael Thoms sang Dorothy Porter’s words, but mostly performed voice as instrument, with complex unison melodies and occasional solos, and some expert classically-inspired fills. I was standing behind Andy Butler for some expressive and intense solos and richly complex chords played with gentle touch. He told me he’s uncomfortable with acoustic piano sounds on electric instruments, but he was obviously enjoying the Yamaha grand’s ringing tones. Piano really is the master instrument, and Andy is playing these days with rich sensibility and informed intellect. Simon provided the bass line that growled in reference to Ron Carter’s CTI days. I really enjoyed his solidly supportive playing, but he’s also listened to the likes of William Parker and Ornette so he sneaks in some intriguing complexity at times.

So I was taken by this concert: by some wonderful playing, but perhaps even more by the attractive and worthy compositions. Alex Raupach (trumpet, flugelhorn, compositions and badass radio voice) led a quintet with Rachael Thom (voice), Andy Butler (piano), Simon Milman (bass) and John Wilton (drums) for ArtSound’s Friday Night Live.

Another Williams

I’d caught Brother Bill a few days before; this was a night for younger sibling Max. I’ve heard Max a good few times, but I think this was the first as band leader. He’s a thoughtful player - well considered phrasings and content to play slowly and let the notes lead, although he’ll also let go with occasional flourishes. I particularly enjoyed his harmonic concept in a challengingly out tune by Simon called Two forms of liquid. Underlying were Rhythm changes, but the melody was contorted like Monk. Max wasn’t madly comfortable on the melody (he was reading and it would not have been an easy read), but carried the tune off well with plenty of challenging scales and appropriately long intervals and dissonant extensions. Simon backed with fairly straight chordal statements which held it together, then a simple repeating descending chromatic line, then soloed with a strangely minimal statement that moved in triads through changing harmonies. It was very much conceptual rather than virtuosic and apt for such an iconoclastic piece. Otherwise, the band played lively latin that sat nicely with a mobile flow of unadorned chords. Also a few standards: Airegin by Sonny Rollins and Skylark come to mind. It was in these that I noticed Andy’s bop solo phrasing that flowed in long lines over the barlines and ended in little twists: easy and consistent. Aidan sat easily with the various grooves, and showed his individuality with a solo on the latin, but also some amusingly corny responses in Simon’s Two forms… It was an easygoing night and a casual performance by students for fellow students. Nice one and thanks to Other Brother Max. Max Williams (tenor) played with Andy Butler (piano), Simon Milman (bass) and Aidan Lowe (drums) at Trinity.

Sue’s Mothers’ Day

 My mate at work gave me a few pics from Mothers’ Day. She went out to Adore Tea and FAQ were playing. I haven’t caught FAQ for some time, but they play regularly around town, at the Casino and elsewhere. Sue enjoyed the popular, smooth, recognisable jazz tunes. Happy Mothers’ Day, Sue. FAQ are Sarah Byrne (vocals), James Groves (piano), Peter McDonald (bass, tuba) and Bruce Smyth (drums).

Back to the Belgian

The Belgian Beer Café has been under the hammer recently for restoration. I couldn’t see the difference, but at least now it’s open and Dave, Bill and Ed have returned. This time, with James sitting in for a set. The DBE trio concentrates on playing the standards, and they play them with real love and conviction. The tunes deserve it. They are standards for a reason: because they are great songs. I caught four tunes: Beatrice, Stella, You don’t know what love is and Solar. Solar was sprightly as a modern up-tempo number; You don’t know… was beautifully gentle as a ballad. Beatrice and Stella were played as medium tempo. Easy but demanding solos all round, including by bass and drums. A thoroughly comfortable but imaginative set. The beers are interesting (and appropriately priced) but there’s no cover charge. If you haven’t caught this gig, get down there (Sundays, 3-6pm, Kingston). It's wonderful, committed playing at a high level. Dave Rodriguez (guitar) plays regularly with Bill Williams (bass) and Ed Rodrigues (drums) and James Le Fevre (tenor) sat in for the first set. I was caught without my camera, so my mobile had to do the honours: just to explain the very modest quality.

Translations

They were the Translators and they performed at the Gods the other night. It’s an apt name for an unusual mix of instruments that produces a very recognisable and attractive outcome. It’s seldom that I attend a band with electric mandolin, especially one that’s screaming like a Strat, or Spanish guitar played in classical cum Flamenco style, but that’s what was on stage, and it worked comfortably with the sixteenth note grooves from electric bass and the lively drumming. An unusual combination but still with affinities: with Jaco for those bass chords and funky grooves and exquisitely mellifluous bass melodies and with Al Di Meola and Paco De Lucia for those nylon strung Spanish guitar sounds. Even the mandolin had references. The fast lines, high pitches, sometimes screaming sounds with overdrive and echo sold it as an instrument with attitude, sounding eerily like studio-based indie guitar soundscapes.

The elder of the band was Steve Hunter. Steve’s a master electric bassist and wonderful to hear: a great, phat sound; rich and varied chords and fingerstyle sixteenth note funky accompaniment; sweet melodies and some devastatingly fast falling lines. Ben Hauptmann was on the electric mandolin: from sharp and thin mando lines to fast guitar-like solos to complex and richly effected soundscapes. Brother James Hauptmann was on drums: not showy, but strong with busy grooves that grew naturally to peaks with the solos. Damian Wright was the Spanish guitarist. The nylon sound is recognisable (you hear it often enough from players like John McLaughlin, perhaps played with a plectrum) but the style places the band outside the mainstream. This is thumb plucking, fingernail strums, fingerstyle chords. There was some jazz sensibility in the left hand, but the right was in another space altogether. Very capable and perfectly fitting to this context, but still quite unexpected.

The tunes were originals by various members: Flamenco influences, two chord funky solos, rapid unison melodies, unexpected and dramatic starts and stops. This was energetic and lively music, tons of runs, tons of cleverness and overt Latin passion. At one stage, Geoff Page mentioned that Steve was the bassist who convinced him of the authenticity of the electric bass. It’s easy to concur on Steve’s expertise and musicality, but this night was not just Steve. The performers presented an odd mix of instruments, and a style that we are aware of but that’s not common on the jazz scene in Australia. But it’s infectious and lively and I, for one, would easily hear more.

The Translators are Steve Hunter (electric bass), Ben Hauptmann (electric mandolin), Damian Wright (Spanish guitar) and James Hauptmann (drums).

Playfully dynamic

That’s how I saw Ahmad Jamal and his band at the Opera House: playfully dynamic. Lithe, joyous rhythms oozed from these guys. Ahmad’s in his 80th year, but you wouldn’t think it. He’s lively and mobile, joyous and swinging, adventurous and modern. A mate Peter observed that his playing was not bop, but wilfully chromatic. Not just chromatic, but adventurous in conception and rhythm and dynamism. He had an intimacy with tunes (not least with his theme, the lovely Poinciana) that allowed him to toy with, even mangle, the melody or the chordal movements. This was the dynamics I mentioned. He’d move way, way from the tune, he’d twist and prod and delay, and play 9 over 4 or 15 over 12, but he was always there, always ready for that sweet resolution.

His band was similarly comfortable, as they sat with great comfort with the tunes. These are players that have a long history with Ahmad, and the joyous smiles and open eyes and easy responses confirmed this ease. There was a cohesiveness, especially between bass and drums, that was manifest. And, on top of that, the waving hand of Ahmad mixed and matched to orchestrate the whole in real time, now a drum solo, then percussion or bass. It’s not something I’d seen quite like this before, and it was effective. A Jamalism, I guess.

I loved the bass playing by James Cammack, which was mellifluous in its grooves and fills and beautifully close in accompaniment. Great playing, although the business card action he must have on his bass made for an edgy sound from strings that couldn’t vibrate freely. That’s the cost of this fast and fluid style with very low action, but I loved it none-the-less. And you’ve got to like a guy with such a big, open, joyous smile. Herlin Riley was a favourite of Ahmad, getting lots of Ahmad’s calls for solos and fills, and also a favourite of many muso mates in attendance. Again, that big smile, and I felt the strength that set the rhythm section. Unexpected on the night, was the appearance of Manolo Badrena, master percussionist. He was off to one side, and somewhat out of the core of the rhythm section, adding constantly changing colours and a little humour to an already joyous band. His was not a role of adding complexity to a groove, although we did get little snippets of congas and bongos and timbales that did provide that rich contrast with the drums. Not that, but rather colours and textures from short, constantly changing blips of percussion that moved through and around the rhythm and Ahmad’s endlessly changeable piano. His vocal percussion was interesting too, often raising a smile and adding the humanity of voice to the blend.

The band played tunes from recent CDs, mostly groove-based, some with odd times or odd divisions of time or decisive starts and stops. Otherwise, there was the signature tune Poinciana, a wonderfully inventive and disguised version of But not for me (my favourite of the night, I think), and tunes by Sammy Davis and Jimmy Heath and perhaps others. They played a string of encores when the audience exploded after an evening of intellect and good will and open joy. This was a concert to remember with pleasure. A sprightly aged but not old man, with obvious life to spare, a group of comfortable colleagues and a string of sharp and infectious grooves and intelligent but loose dissection overlaying it all. A wonderful and very special concert.

Ahmad Jamal (piano) performed at the Sydney Opera House with James Cammack (bass), Herlin Riley (drums) and Manolo Badrena (percussion).

Very alternatively playful

The Drips were the backing band for Ahmad Jamal. Drips? I’d noticed the name in emails or on Facebook recently, and immediately recognised Carl Dewhurst, Cameron Undy and Evan Mannell when they stepped on stage.

It was a strange concert, in line with the band’s self-demeaning name, and no doubt a challenge to all, even if it was strangely apt for the AJ support. Apt because they were taking AJ’s rhythmic contortions to logical and extreme conclusions. There was groove here, but the band was expertly avoiding the beats to create the strangest of twisted, contorted patterns. Not easy, perhaps not even pleasant, but fascinating and very difficult ot perform. There were occasional chromatics and harmonic contortions, too, but I felt the key was the rhythmic perversity. What else? A parallel self-demeaning (although confident) introduction about this being their biggest gig (for The Drips, perhaps, but these are capable and busy players otherwise); some very capable guitar solos, although again twisted; bass pleading and leading and sometimes bleeding, with massive distortion and richly effected tones and odd chords and even thumb positions (on e-bass?); perverse and delayed rhythms, which provided an essential drumming context. Suffice to say, all very strange and perverse, but also fitting and expertly done. Feel up to it? Check out what the Canberra contingent (Cameron and Carl are local Canberra products) is doing these days on the edge in Sydney.

The Drips are Carl Dewhurst (guitar), Cameron Undy (electric bass) and Evan Mannell (drums).

Purple patch

I feel that one concert of Deep Purple in my life is enough, so I didn’t book for the DP gig in the evening. My DP gig was a biggie and far away, when I was into such music (Adealide, 17 May 1971): Deep Purple (then with Ritchie Blackmore on guitar) played with Manfred Mann, Free and Australian band, Pirana. But a cheap workshop with Steve Morse, Deep Purple’s current guitarist, was of interest. Steve seemed a nice bloke, slightly embarrassed by the attention at first but talking pretty easily and personably about Bach two part inventions, that JSB would be a heavy metal guitarist if alive today, hard work (commit to 3 years of 8 hours daily to test whether you could be a muso), practicing routines with finger exercises and arpeggios and scales starting with the major modes, and about also gear, of course. He played some mean screaming and tapping guitar solos in the rock style. I still like these! It was fun for the 250 guys who were there (very few women) of all ages (an “all age” gig in this context means greying and others). Join the rock and blues crew and attend a workshop sometime. It’s more intimate than seeing these guys in concert and lots cheaper.

SCUNA as in Erewhon

It was Bob who said: “Thank god for undergraduate humour” and I had to agree. SCUNA, of course, is the ANU Choral Society spelt backwards, and we were at Llewellyn Hall for SCUNA performing Mozart’s Requiem with the National Capital Orchestra and various vocal soloists. The program was a big one. The first half started and ended with movements from Mozart’s Symphony no.25 in G minor with a few arias from Don Giovanni (oh, the cad!) and the Magic Flute (cute Papageno) in between. Megan knew the symphony, so found the structure a bit strange, but the music was attractive. For the first half, the singers were soprano Rachael Duncan and baritone Benjamin Connor. They presented interesting personalities on stage. Benjamin acted the part with operatic corniness that fitted the bill. Rachael was just herself, beaming throughout and so obviously enjoying the performance. Impressive singing on both parts, but I particularly liked Rachael’s strong and full voice although the vibrato was a little too much for my tastes. But this is not my culture.

The main part of the night was the Requiem. The orchestra reappeared, as did a choir of about 90 singers and the front line of soprano, mezzo-soprano, tenor and bass. And the sounds from the top were glorious. I’d been reading the discussion on who wrote what (Mozart died after writing very little and the work was finished by his student Süssmayr), and an interesting online discussion on playing the trombone parts in the Tuba mirum, and I’d had a good listen to a CD the previous week. So I found the work reasonably familiar, the repeating themes and the lines moving through the SATB chorus, and the occasional harmonies amongst the solo singers. Interesting also to hear Latin as a sung language, although it’s not surprising given it’s a mass.

Obviously, there were some weaknesses. I guess the soloists are paid, but the orchestra is a community orchestra and thus hobbyists, even if committed ones, and so is the choir. The NCO’s intonation was occasionally suss, and the instrumental balance was presumably subject to availability (poor Elizabeth Collier had a hard time as the one double bassist and I could seldom make her out). A bit more confidence all round would have served well and given a less reticent performance. But I admire the obvious work and the performance and the orchestra itself. We are blessed to have such institutions. I felt very comfortable with the four soloists, and particularly enjoyed the four intermingling lines later in the piece. They were capable and well voiced. SCUNA was also impressive. I felt their performance had a clarity and passion worthy of the piece. I wonder if they also suffer from a lack of balance. Lots of sopranos and altos, but fewer basses and even fewer tenors. They tell me that tenors are notoriously hard to find.

It was a wonderful night. The music was pleasant and popular in the first half and profound in the second. The musicians and singers were capable and committed. And the audience was on side. The ANU Choral Society (SCUNA) and National Capital Orchestra were conducted by Philip Hartstein at Llewellyn Hall in a program called the genius of Mozart, featuring Mozart’s Requiem. The soloists for the arias were Rachael Duncan (soprano) and Benjamin Connor (Baritone). The soloists for the Requiem were Pamela Andrews (soprano), Ellen Malone (mezzo-soprano), Robert Shearer (tenor) and Daniel Brinsmead (bass).