Next gen

I caught a series of students of piano teacher, Marie Cull, at St Albans and it was varied and engaging. Ages from 6 to young adult. AMEB levels from grade 3 to LMUS. Varied composers and thus styles. I was intrigued by Bach’s varying takes on English and Italians: the English Suite was steady, even incessant, the Italian Concerto was interrupted, punctuated. Debussy presented another sense of tonality. Chopin was romantic and heavily pedalled. Frank Hutchens was romantic and perhaps bushy. Apparently he’s known to some locals. Plenty of triplet and waltz feels and some devilish sprays of notes and odd times bouncing between left and right hands. In all, it was a satisfying lunchtime outing from a new generation of pianists.

Here’s the program: Nicholas Shuttleworth, Big black spider by Mirrie Hill; Enling Liao, Contradanse by Hummel; Jerry Lu, Little bird by Grieg; Zoe Larsen-Cumming, Nocturne by Grieg; Bernice Chua, Mazurka Op.7 No.1 by Chopin; Bernice Chua and Jonathan Lee, Le jardin de Dolly by Faure; Jonathan Lee, Arabesque 1 by Debussy; Vivian Zhu, Italian Concerto (1st movt) by JSBach; Laura Pham, Weeping Mist by Frank Hutchens; Christopher Bottomley, Prelude from English Suite 3 by JS Bach; Emma Rayner, Nocturne Op.27 No.2 by Chopin; Emily Buckley, Sonata Op.31 No.2 (1st movt) by Beethoven.

Olympians

Jamie Oehlers and his band were like Olympians in many ways: strength, training, poise with ecstatic release. This music was muscular and intense and played at the extremes and an incredible opportunity to see what best can be done. But comparisons with Olympics end here when we talk of jazz. $12m per medal says it all. Sport has bread and circuses enough. CJ acclaims the classic measures: beautiful, useful and true. But will the centre hold when the worst / Are full of passionate intensity? An informed and enthralled coterie attends the Loft for a gold-medal performance while billions watch their equivalent in sport and attendant spacey girls and fireworks. It’s two worlds out there and intellect is running for silver and only if its luck holds out. WAAPA under review and our own school given the treatment. But it’s much bigger, too. Not just culture, but climate and more. I’m currently reading an update to Limits to growth. The lion body with head of man is moving, but it’s we who slouch to nowhere. At least our Loft Olympians were naked in their purpose and expression.

Muscular it was. From the first notes, the volume and power of it floored me. Phil working the strings. It’s hard to tell on stage, but I noticed later he was a tall man. It fits. Tall men fit the acoustic bass. He’s strong. He works the strings. The fluency is there, but also the great tone, from a pristine looking bass with just a discrete Realist pickup. Truth in the timber. Jamie writhing with busy lines and some terrorising tempos. Jacob engaging skins with spurts of exact fills and rolls with jagged jazz responsiveness and fusion-toned punchiness. For some time, Tal seemed quieter, bent over keyboard searching for comping chords and denser, more dissonant harmonies, but then he’d lean back and watch the others, particularly Jacob, to match hits, or launch into another solo of perpendicular tonality and take on the tune head on. Several of the tunes were Jamie’s. Smoke and mirrors was the fast and furious opener. One new and as yet unnamed tune had the simplest call and response melody supporting rabid solos. A ballad called Open door was a workout in long intervals, 7ths, octaves and others, with the most delicate piano. Innocent dreamer was in 13/16, which Jamie helpingly described as ¾ with a stumble on the end. It’s the description of an experienced teacher and quite easy to follow with that hint. I tried to count Fun police but with less success; was there 5/4, maybe 15/8 counting as 4-3-4-4; probably other tempi. The borrowed tunes were Jobim’s Portrait in black and white, which was slow and sparse and punctuated by insistent, plucky bass. They played Little Willie leaps from the Charlie Parker bop songbook and it was suitably breakneck-fast and with touches of bop lines but mostly harmonised with a more modern ear. There was a Cedar Walton tune and a rabidly effective and fast take on Ornette’s Blues connotation. I thought I grasped something new by listening to his Polkadots and moonbeams. Now, this is a standard with chords and turnarounds and slow swing rhythm, at least how I’d play it. But Jamie’s take was distilled to a floating drone and Bb bass pedal with constantly mutating chords of varying dissonant colours rolling over. Closer to late Coltrane than Cole Porter and a lesson in contemporary reimagining of the standards. Suffice to say I found the whole gig thrilling with Jamie’s big and hard tone and fevered lines, Tal’s obtuse, disjointed, anarchic and (to borrow from Andrew Ford) illegal harmonies and sprays of notes and atonal chord sequence, Phil’s hard-edged tone and rapid-fire pizz and rock sensibility and Jacob’s rock/fusion attack and mix of openness and decaying rolls. This was muscular, ecstatic, gold-medal jazz from the first notes. But who’s to know? Everyone else is at the stadium for the circuses. Not much bread at this end of performance spectrum.

Jamie Oehlers (tenor) was touring with Tal Cohen (piano), Phil Stack (bass) and Jacob Evans (drums) and performed at the Loft.

This time, Coen Brothers

After the Joe Chindamo concert, Robyn praised the variety of programming at the Capital Jazz Project. Just what I’d been thinking. This time it was Joe and band with strings playing music that was visual, appealing, filmic. The concert was taken from his CD, Another place some other time, which is a reworking of film themes of the Coen Brothers. Now this was good, because I inveigled on Megan to come and she likes film music. It was particularly lucky becuase this was not what I’d expected. Joe had played jazz trios in his workshop. I knew the lineup was bigger, even with strings, but the bluegrass and storytelling of the musical structures surprised me on the night, but pleasantly. This was charming and even engrossing and there was some impressive playing; just not what I’d expected or promised. It was perhaps better. Certainly Megan volunteered how much she’d enjoyed it. Success!

The concert started with the themes from No country for old men and Man of constant sorrows. I live in a film vacuum: I’m told these are both from the Coen Brothers. Then a bluegrass from Henry Mancini (!) and Raising Arizona, another CB theme, and the Adagio from Spartacus by Khachaturian. This was also unexpected but it worked and it’s a memorable theme fitting in this company. Megan recognised this one. Then adding the sublime or the rediculous (you choose), Hotel California, another film theme and You are my sunshine. Then another film theme and an encore on solo piano. Unexpected? You bet. Sentiment, heart on shoulder, daring to breaking (jazz) conventions? Yes, all that. Like Paul Capsis, the glam cabaret singer who introduced the CJP with the support of the Alister Spence Trio, this was a challenge to our categories and our habituated ears. Good! But the jazz and chops were there, too. It’s good to see Philip Rex again with his busy, powerful playing and his rugged touch. And I enjoyed both violins, Zoe Black for her romantic melodies and Nigel McLean for his catholicity and chops covering bluegrass to the classics. Ronny and Alex provided layers of rhythms and Joe played with impressive breadth of improvisation and flamboyant flourishes, and even dropped into accordion, his first instrument, for a touching take on You are my sunshine. But, for all the arrangements and capable performance, I think my jazz ears most liked Joe’s solo piano encore that reprised Sunshine and some other melodies from the night. This was a confident and professional outing and I like that it was eminently attractive. It’s a change from music for afficionadoes and tiny audiences. Perhaps it was nonchalant and a bit distant but you have to love someone who will front a band with two violinists and play You are my sunshine at a jazz festival and carry it off with sentiment but without sentimentality.

Joe Chindamo (piano) led a band comprising Nigel MacLean (violin), Zoe Black (violin), Alex Pertout (percussion), Philip Rex (bass) and Ronny Ferella (drums)

Cyberhalides Jazz Photos by Brian Stewart

More chalk and cheese, pt.2

Joe’s band went second. I say I was formed by jazz of the ‘70s but perhaps the classic voluble swing of Oscar Peterson and Ray Brown and the like have influenced my playing more. I still love a swinger and I love the standards. Joe started with a piano trio, with Max and Luke – a quintessential jazz format - and the two opening tunes were classic standards of the American songbook that have reached into the lounges of the world: Cheek to cheek and Out of nowhere. Joe’s masterful in this style: fluent, inventive, playful, responsive and with big ears. This was just confirmed later when the larger band was playing and the solos were being passed around. Joe would mimic or paraphrase a player, and they would respond. Joe’s particularly good at it, taking ideas and changing key or underlying scale or intervals within the shape and repeating as a sequence. The later tunes were originals, mostly by Joe: Yesterday street, Yet to be named, Sleepless days about continuous daylight in the Norwegian arctic. The band also played Siberia by saxist Joe, a tune in 7/4 that maintained the temporary frosty theme. I heard the writing as filmic, especially after Bennie’s grooves, and at least one tune was from a film score: more melody, more harmony, more open sounding; less earthy movement, less bump and grind. There were some decent solos here, too, but I particularly noticed one guitar solo from Jack with a scratchy, staccato roughness and hints of Scofield. But I remain intrigued by the title of the session: Freshbace. Fresh is obvious; …bace?

Joe Chindamo led student group comprising Joe McEvilly (alto), Miles O’Connell (tenor), Scott Temby (trumpet), Rachel Cummings (trombone), Jack Palmer (guitar), Max Alduca (bass) and Luke Keanan-Brown (drums).

Cyberhalides Jazz Photos by Brian Stewart

More chalk and cheese, pt.1

Freshbace was two student bands, each led by a visiting jazz luminary. The first was Bennie Maupin; the second was Joe Chindamo. I’d seen both of these musicians in workshop so I was intrigued to hear them in concert as leaders of a student band. Like some other combinations that I’ve attended at CJP, these were chalk and cheese.

Bennie’s band went first. Bennie was involved in some major movements in the late sixties and seventies - Bitches brew, On the corner, Headhunters, Mwandishi – so we could expect a more spacey presentation. We got it. Just to emphasise the approach, the concert started with a string quartet. Then into a concert of heavy grooves, touches of free or at least lengthy cacophony, string quartet intros and washes, plenty of solos including a Ponty-like jazz violin, and an end on a solid funk. The tunes were originals from Bennie’s pen. Jewel of the Lotus and Mapo were spacey ‘70s jazz from early ECM releases. Equal justice was a ballad where Bennie played a slow ostinato of long and somewhat atonal intervals on piano. The final tune was a solid jazz funk that livened up to finish the set. This is probably the era that most influenced me in jazz so I was entranced by the music. The students were playing to their best, aware but smiling, and the music was alluring and physical. I especially took note of the unusual sound of El’s electric violin, which she played with considerable authority and with those characteristic intervals due to the tuning in fifths. Daniel’s guitar solo, especially his overt cutting blues and repeated notes against the funk, was classic Kim: outlandish but convincing. Jordan dropped into slap for the funk and let loose some devastating triplet slaps. I enjoyed watching the string quartet enjoying temporary freedom from dots during several group improv passages. Nice concert and earthy and physical.

Bennie Maupin (soprano sax, piano) led a student band comprising Andy Butler (piano), Matt Handel (alto), Tom Sly (trumpet), Patrick Langdon (trombone), Daniel Kim (guitar), Henry Rasmussen (drums), Llewellyn Osborne (jazz violin) and the Childers String Quartet of Tobias Chisnall (violin), Estelita Rae (violin), Anthony de Battista (viola) and Julia Janiszewski (cello).

Cyberhalides Jazz Photos by Brian Stewart

Night of extremes, pt.2

The other extreme was far less profound and far more sheer fun. Laurence Ku led an organ trio with Norwegian organist Steiner Nickelsen and renowned ex-Canberra drummer Nick McBride. Swinging organ trios have become popular of late and I’ve seen several in the last few years. This one is from Shanghai and was a blow out. This music is not meant to be a great cerebral experience. It’s hot and alive and seriously partying and this band did it justice. There were some tunes with out playing, but the essence of this music is tonality, swing, feel, dynamics. Laurence was playing pentatonics but they were seriously interesting. Great, alive, staccato lines spanning the fretboard, little stops to punctuate the solos, concentration released in smiles. The band obviously has a good time with music like this. It’s a game, too, although perfectly serious. I loved their openness. There were a few grimaces on the faces when they went for something that didn’t come off, but this is all part of the overt play. And I the band dynamics were astounding. It’s strange, because some of the individual dynamics were limited, especially the guitar, but overall, there were serious dynamics. Players dropping out, leaving a duo even a solo organ. The organ itself continually but subtly changing in volume and tone. But especially Nick’s drums that followed the flow, stating melody and responding to improvisation but never just mimicking. This was flowing, busy, diverse sounding drums and you could see every touch was individually formed and controlled. Maybe because there was no bass, but I sat in awe at nick’s flowing expressiveness. Again, I noted some grimaces, but any muso knows this happens on the edge, and any party muso knows that’s where you play. This was a tour de force to my ears. But that was just my focus for the night. Steiner’s organ was rip-roaring with nice bluesy lines formed and reformed and developing into blistering flourishes of that uniquely attacking but also sustained organ tone. I guessed he played with two keyboards on his Nord and he definitely a one octave footpedal under his left leg and a swell pedal under his right. It’s a busy job, and perhaps approaches drums for limb independence. They mostly played originals, a series of Pictures 1,2,3,4 by Laurence and several by Steiner. I heard lots of odd times and time changes. One count seemed to be 11/8 split as 6-5 then some triple feels then 11/8 as 5-6, but I’m never sure of these things. Suffice to say, it works musically but sits oddly until you get the count, but then it moves again. It can be flummoxing. They played a take on Poinciana and a considerably changed take on I’ll remember April which they called I can’t remember. But overall, this is music that doesn’t hide its honour or skills behind the bushel. It’s overt, excitable, youthful, dynamic and such great fun. We all left with wide open smiles. Great fun and very much the other extreme.

Laurence Ku (guitar) led an organ trio with Steiner Nickelsen (organ) and Nick McBride (drums).

Interestingly, I caught the trio again at the National Press CLub on Friday playing with Mike Price. Just one pic.

Night of extremes, pt.1

It was genuinely a night of extremes at the CJP with Gian Slater followed by Laurence Ku.

It could be no else with Gian Slater’s Invenio as an introduction. At least for me, this was truly a unique experience in jazz - atypical, diverse, distinctive, unrelated, singular. When else have I heard an unaccompanied choir of 14 (nine females, 5 males) vocalising all range of wordless sounds over one hour with just two sung songs. What were these sounds? Animals, squeels, pops, slides, clucks, drones, forests, whoops, wheels, ca-ta-da, hisses, relationships, guttural, vocalised, more. Harmonies, sharing, movements, responses. And visually nondemonstrative, dressed in white or faun, standing with hands to the side, deadpan faces, moving only slowly but in synch with each other and the music, forming patterns on stage. And props? Just for vocal enhancements: cups and bowls at one time, metal foil at another, to rustle and mute. Then once a drone of sitar in support, but mostly just voices. And then just two sets of words, both sung by convenor/leader and presumably composer, Gian Slater. One of innocence and dread, starting What you said it left me hanging. The other similar in presence. There were intimations of minimalism with slowly moving lines amongst singing pairs or groups. There were melodies passed one to one and changing like a Chinese whisper. And always that beautiful, beautiful sound of voice taken to places unimagined. I thought of likening to The Necks in effect and to minimalism in the trance-like beauty. But this was of itself and immensely beautiful. One side of the night’s extremity.

Gian Slater led Invenio, a choir of fourteen voices (9 female, 5 male) in a performance of Gone without saying. The voices of Invenio were Gian Slater, Georgie Darvidis, Miriam Crellin, Gemma Tully, Jenny Barnes, Helen Catanchin, Loni Thomson, Audrey Zoega, Louisa Rankin, Edward Fairlie, Jem Savage, Jeremy Hopkins, Tom Barton and Josh Kyle.

The wisdom of experience

Another afternoon off work, another workshop. This was Bennie Maupin, multi-instrumentalist with McCoy Tyner, Miles Davis, Herbie Hancock, Horace Silver, Roy Haynes and others.

I can’t attend his Saturday gig, so a workshop was a decent alternative. And of course it fascinating for the musicians. Hearing anecdotes of Miles as leader on Bitches Brew, of Eric Dolphy and John Coltrane and Sonny Rollins. Hearing of his eminently practical approach to life and survival as a musician, even of some of his setbacks. He strongly supports reed players learning other instruments, sax and clarinet and flute, if only for survival, and taking all sorts of gigs. He recounted gigs where he was forbidden from improvising, then explained that he went to the Lower East Side to let off steam with the likes of Joe Henderson. He spoke of learning of the value of timbre from Yusef Lateef. He spoke with some eminently quotable lines. You have to keep a bass clarinet under control “like a wild horse”. He promoted self-discipline and organisation and focus in practice, but also balance in life. I was surprised to hear that “some days I don’t practice”. He quoted Miles as being a supportive leader, “Yeah, I hear ya”, and said he learnt from Miles “how to be in the moment”. I liked the line “Always be the one to say yes” in the context of the sole initial volunteer to play. Then he went on to hail the use of space in performance. He called up several student bands and played with them and asked for a group picture to remember the event. He mourned the damage to the ANU School of Music. Bennie is not young (71) but there’s no way you’d say he’s old. A nice bloke and a lovely player, from what little I heard.

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

Old and young guns, pt.1

The concert was entitled 21+75 because it marked the recent birthdays of each artist. Andy Butler was the junior; Bernie McGann the senior. If this expresses the quality of jazz in Australia as it has been and as it will be, I can only be proud. These were two seriously satisfying sets, and I was not the only one who left in thrall.

Andy led a big band (and for one tune, an octet) performing a series of charts that he’s developed with sponsorship and mentoring from Steve Newcomb under an Australia Council program. I know the band is brought together for this performance, so I was mightily impressed by how easily the band took to the charts. They weren’t easy, with odd times and syncopated conversational passages back and forth between parts. There may have been a touch of hesitation from the horns but nothing at all from Mark on drums. I particularly noticed his solo, which was solid, even magisterial. And a mix on a decent PA made all the difference. You always hear the snakey reeds and the blasting trumpets, but the tuba can be lost with its bell pointing to the ceiling. Tonight it was here and proud and speaking with its own voice. There were solos all round, of course, but the excitement here is in the tone and the orchestration and composition. The first tune was as yet unnamed and I heard it in 7/4 but perhaps with 4/4 passages. Poco was a highly syncopated unyielding pattern over 16 with a buzzing bee swarm as resolution. I missed the third tune’s title, but it was sleazy and slow and arranged for octet. The big band returned for Ode to Skype, if I remember correctly, in triple time. Andy later told me he communicates with Steve (and his girlfriend) over Skype. The final tune was Tightrope. There as a lively buzz in the foyer after Andy’s concert: for the pride in achievement as well as for the beer line. This gig was joyously received and Andy was talking of other gigs. But how to do this with such a large outfit? We can only hope.

Andy Butler (piano, composer) led big band comprising John Mackey, Niels Rosendahl, Matt Handel, Tom Fell (saxes), Miroslav Bukovsky, Alex Raupach, Ax Long, Scott Temby (trumpets), Rob Lee, Valdis Thomann, Patrick Langdon (trombones), Peter McGovern (tuba), Max Alduca (bass) and Mark Sutton (drums)

Cyberhalides Jazz Photos by Brian Stewart

Effortless does not mean uninformed

I have tickets to Joe Chindamo at the Capital Jazz Project on Friday and after seeing Joe in a workshop at the Band Room this afternoon, I am counting the days. He didn’t play much, but what he did was intriguing and coloured. The main piece was Out of nowhere as a piano trio with students Max and Luke. This was generous and a performance rather than a demonstration, so we could hear the richly varied approaches, his satisfyingly structured lines, his gentleness and intriguing modern-classical harmony (he particularly likes Ravel, Prokofiev, Charles Ives and the American composers) and his capable plays on jazz harmony and mobile patterns. He played a little else, but as demonstrations: Bach’s Goldburg Variations to display repeating form with variations; Gershwins’s Our love is here to stay showing two melodic shapes in movement and in play; Beethoven’s famous first three notes of the Fifth Symphony as a simple but memorable pattern. And Joe has catholic tastes: he also spoke of bluegrass and playing Dolly Parton. I liked some memorable quotes: “Notice things all the time” while talking of learning away from an instrument. This was in the context of noticing bassoon lines and learning from hearing harmony at an orchestral concert. He was strong on listening. It reminds me of a favourite quote of mine: "In the final analysis, your stature as a jazz musician is determined not by how much you have practised, but by how well you have listened" (Jazzology, p.195). Then a preference for effortless playing: he prefers musicians who don’t grunt the C major chord (think Paul Desmond). When practising, it’s ïmportant to muck around intelligently” and this one that I really liked and that highlights the responsibility on the learner: “[It’s] important to have a good teacher, but much more important to be a good student.” He was wary of the view that jazz has to come from certain locations, observing that “No critics have ever seen a bad French film”. He pointed to variation as a key to interest and demonstrated the effectiveness of a C major chord finishing a free passage. He talked and demonstrated various ways to practising soloing. Against a chord structure, choose the 9th or 5th and sharpen or flatten it on seventh chords. This produced intriguing harmonies and was perhaps my favourite as a sound. Another was essentially voice leading. Move up by a semitone or tone for each chord and build solos on those notes. Vary in all sorts of ways: start from different notes; use two, three or four notes per bar. Build interesting lines; check that fast lines are interesting when slowed (don’t just run scales). Or more traditionally, play arpeggios, move patterns, more.

This was just to touch on the discussion. But Out of nowhere said it all. I’m looking forward to Joe’s full band playing Friday for a full dose. Joe Chindamo (piano) ran a workshop for students at the ANU School of Music. Max Alduca (bass) and Luke Keanan-Brown (drums) sat in for one tune.

Not playing, chatting

Thanks to Brian Stewart of Cyberhalides for the pics

I like a writers’ festival but to be in one, on a panel, with illustrious co-panellists and not a few illustrious writers in the audience is a blast.

This was Conversations about Jazz at the Canberra Jazz Project. The CJP has a words and music theme this year, so a few jazz poets appear in the program (Alan Browne and spoken-word artist Miles Merrill) and this panel session. I represented the local, community stream, and the professionals were Sydney writers Jasmine Crittenden and John Shand and broadcaster-writer Andrew Ford. The session was convened by Melbourne writer and editor, Miriam Zolin. Now these are significant names in the jazz writing scene and I was chuffed to appear with them. The session passed with great speed, and some interesting points were raised about writing, criticism, the purpose and nature of reviewing, the benefits of writing about music, responses to reviewing, even the writer as parasitic on the performer. Also issues about jazz itself: the size of the community, the knowledge of jazz players and their expressiveness (or lack of it). And the state of publishing in Australia and the opportunities for jazz writers. There were a few questions at the end. I particularly liked one from Alex Raupach about the permanence of writing against the ephemeral nature of performance. Now that’s one that leaves your mind in a philosophical twist. Andrew quoted from Orwell - “[g]ood prose is like a window pane” (from the essay Why I write / George Orwell) meaning that the writer is of no consequence in the review. OK, agreed. I find these discussions intriguing (and perhaps unfinalisable: modern dialectics would argue the writer can’t be removed from the writing). FWIW, CJ takes a simple and practical approach. If interested, read my Instructions to authors. I seek to promote a community, widen popular interests, record some local history, assist performers and promote Canberra’s and Australia’s presence in the world jazz scene. And still allow the author some time for work and other interests. None-the-less, I could have easily chatted for hours more. Great fun.