Christmas as in schooner

Christmas is a time for choral concerts (any other time, too). This year’s was SCUNA with a program called Celestial harmonies : music for contemplation and celebration.

There were some strange but intriguing associations in this concert. Three versions of O magnum Mysterium, from de Victoria (~1600), de Cristo (~1600) and Lauriden (1974). There were several Schubert songs, one by a small sub-choir of women (SSAA), another by soprano accompanied by clarinet and piano. Then Rachmaninoff. The Vespers (or better, All night vigil Op.39, no.1-7) was performed by the full choir with organ and soprano voice. The Vespers were choral and predictable, but the two piano pieces, splitting each set into two parts, was an unexpected bit of programming. They were Prelude in D flat major and Etude-Tableau in C minor. Just the thing to challenge the jaded Christmas carol ear: not particularly celestial but riveting and an awakener. Then a few final tunes to end a generous concert, an encore and a rendition of Laudate nomen Domini (Christopher Tye, ~1550), apparently the theme song of SCUNA. I found the choir gelled better with some simpler harmonies. These were relatively complex charts: not just SATB, but SSAATTBBP, where my P is Basso Profundo (apparently down to D). I fancied the extremes of sopranos and basso profundo when they clearly rang out. I enjoyed the interplay of voices passing through harmonies. I really enjoyed the firm, confident solo soprano of Sarahlouise Owens in combination with choir for the Vespers and clarinet and piano for a Schubert. Despite its odd presence and slightly wonky upright, I relished Anthony Smith playing Rachmaninoff. This was a turn-of-the-century Russian romantic blast of huge handfulls of notes. It’s a surprise to see Anthony outside his continuo, subsidiary role for a change. The whole was led by Andrew Kroll with casual seriousness.

Finally, I enjoyed visiting St Andrew’s, which I pass by regularly. I expect this is our grandest church, even in its unfinished state. Canberra has a batch of post-religious brick constructions that lack the solemnity and magnificence that’s due to churches. This one is still awaiting its dome, but it’s sandstone in a stubby Greek cross design, high and spacious, nicely detailed with quotations inscribed in Art Deco script and furnishings with swirly gothic decoration, and with a heaven-seeking tower and gargoyles. Too bad about the British desire to hang flags in churches (I only noticed one), but for 99-year old Canberra, this is magnificence. And as for that name: SCUNA as in schooner; a perfectly lame university pun. Ya gotta love it. SCUNA (ANU Choral Society) was conducted by Andrew Kroll in large mixed and small female formations, accompanied by Anthony Smith (continuo, piano) and featured Sarahlouise Owens (soprano) and Hannah Freedman-Smith (clarinet) at the Church of St Andrew, Forrest.

Relatively the underworld

I just managed part of the second set by the Mark Lockett Trio at the Loft. I’d been at Christian Howes and that was a lengthy concert. The contrast was educative. Both had great skills but these were wildly different styles, different audiences, different presentations. Mark is the underground. He’s been studying in NYC with Ari Hoenig; Ornette’s a favourite. His drumming was sparse; the band’s sound was open, being a sax trio; his accompanists were amongst Australia’s best: Julien Wilson and Alex Boneham. This is contemporary music, open and searching, unrushed as notes are sought, beauteous in tone and intimate in context. The Loft and the limited audience just added to the intimacy. I noticed some technical mannerisms in Mark (probably a function of contemporary drumming – things are different now, not all swing and filling the spaces) and his playing was intimate and always purposed. I thought of Paul Motion, although Mark’s not so free. Also the perfect, nuggetty tone of Alex’s bass and long but well-intoned intervals and individually formed notes and his contorted, bodily playing. And sinuous, personal tenor from Julien. I haven’t heard him nearly enough: his reputation is well deserved. This was variously sustained steams of eighth notes of varied dissonance or simple but apt phrasings of sure lyricism. I came in on a first tune that had me elated with these streams of tenor notes then a bass solo of searching melody and perfect tonality. Then a recognition of simple beauty, a ballad My little brown book, which was devoid of solos. Then Bernie McGann’s Brownsville. Then an syncopated original, Sneaking out after midnight. That’s all I heard; damn the clashes. This is beauty. Again, recorded by ArtSound for a Friday Night Live broadcast in coming weeks. I’ll be keeping my ears open for what I missed. Mark Lockett (drums) is touring with Julien Wilson (tenor) and Alex Boneham (bass).

Paganini’s chook

Christian Howes was one I’d been looking forward to. He’s a jazz violinist. It’s an unusual instrument in jazz, so that’s something to explore. And he had a great local band, and it was at Canberra Grammar, so intimate. The gig was moved to a theatre to allow for a larger audience, but there were still beanbags and we could mingle.

Christian came from NYC with accolades. We were not disappointed, of course. He mentioned sitting in weekly with Les Paul, and this comes as no surprise. Pauline had heard him performing at 55 Bar in Greenwich, and that was only 100 metres from where we stayed in NYC, so I felt he was a local. It was Pauline’s invitation that got him to Canberra after his Asian tour. For all the great skills and classical/jazz cross, Christian is a jovial and friendly bloke, and terrifically well received. This was skills plus and unconventionally disparate in styles. It’s the only concert where I’ve heard Paganini (his virtuosic 24th caprice, with flabbergasting melodies in harmonics and heterogeneous bowing techniques) and Wichita linesman (no, not joking) and Jaco’s The chicken played solo on violin (Jaco’s looped bassline overlaid with a guitar chords and wah, then violin fills, all supporting the melody and solo played live; I could only chuckle at this) and a few standards and some originals. He showed us an electric violin (I held it later and it’s a diminutive and surprisingly light instrument) but he played a standard instrument with pickup through a multieffects into a little amp (violinists can travel light) and a borrowed loop pedal for The Chicken (his had blown up in China). So this was entertaining and pleasant and some great, hot play. Violin sounds different, of course: strong, sustained, vibratoed, stratospheric harmonics and big intervals in a very small space. Christian had it all, plus nice jazz feel for time and dissonance and solo structure.

This was a wondrous display of modern mainstream playing with a very decent band in support, to which Christian offered several respectful grins. Michael was his normal explosive self, bashing into the tunes, going hard and then taking it higher still. I marvel at his excitability. None of this was particularly exploratory (this is mainstream) but it’s gloriously skilled and enthralling. Michael’s a blowout every time. Bass is an essential instrument, meaning of the essence of the music. It’s harmonic though not chordal, and it’s relatively clumsy, but Eric was fluent and busy and laid malleable but always driving and embroidered accompaniments and lyrical solos. And Mark, despite some obvious discomfort from his flu, was busy and colourful on brushes and laid into some inexorable but easily syncopated rock and jazz rhythms and solos that famed rockstars could probably not even hear in their dreams. (What is it with this inversion of skill and popularity in our era? Too many people listen with their eyes.) The standards included Nardis and Monk’s Rhythm-a-ning and Tenderly and they played Dave Holland’s The Oracle. There were a few originals with demanding reading, especially one dedicated to an influence of Christian’s, Bobby Floyd, with killer syncopations that must have been a learner. And then a funky tune to end with heavy effects and synth-sounds of portamento and drive.

This was hot playing, friendly and entertaining, for an audience that was all smiles and flabbergast. It’s mainstream and not the arty extremes, but so hot and so well done (after only meeting at 3pm that day, but then that’s jazz). I could only imagine how the jazz violinists in the audience (Pauline and Anna and El and maybe others) would have found it. Expect to hear the concert on ArtSound’s Friday Night Live in coming weeks. Christian Howes (violin) played with Michael Azzopardi (piano), Eric Ajaye (acoustic, electric basses) and Mark Sutton (drums) at Canberra Grammar School.

Release

Liam Budge launched his CD last night. We were at the Abbey, with its earthy timber and imposing organ and arrayed PA and an impressive audience for a Sunday night. But still this was intimate.
Liam’s voice is plaintive and neatly controlled and often improvisational and here it was wonderfully close and present. The balance suited; voice and emotions and words matter here. The tense rhythm section under Liam was melodically restrained, but vehement like a compressed spring. This was powerful and emotive stuff, and it’s just the thing for a jazz vocalist. There’s been a reflowering of jazz vocalists in recent years, including several who are huge commercial successes. Most are female, but there are males too. The difficulty must be to retain authenticity in the commercial scene. Liam is certainly doing that. This is entertaining and intimate and thus sellable, but it’s more. There’s meaning is his words and originality in his arrangements and improvisations. He sang scat and it worked and not just as a period piece. This was effective, dissolving into echo and other effects – particularly impressive at a live concert. This was tradition and jazz chops but it was moulded with a Gen-Y ear. The tunes were a mix of originals and covers. The feels just sat ready to explode. I’m listening to his Bye bye blackbird on CD now. It’s a great song but not usually one for modern ears, but I’d heard it before at the Loft and it’s a killer. It sits, aroused but with a restrained surface, Chris’ bass holding things, Tim’s drums full of energy and sharps taps and rolls, Luke’s piano bouncy in chords and lithe in solos. This was the feel of the band. Not loud; controlled and careful but tense under the skin. This is black and white, film noir, suspense and longing. There will never be another you was similarly rearranged by Liam and Luke. Here’s it’s all medium-up swing and smooth trumpet but head and tailed with an accented, interrupted melody that retells the original then drops into a canny, hip vamp. These are common standards but manicured for an audience of lounge or tea room or grand stage. Liam’s intro to Stop this Trane was amusing. It’s his response to a John Mackey class in Giant steps and it’s well clear of Coltrane changes. Farewell was a slow ballad, bass solo, unison voice and flugelhorn; “we will begin, for you, to turn to”. San Diego serenade was a Tom Waits cover and an unexpected touch of light Californian rock with a pleasing jazz structure. Bettina was for his girlfriend, a ballad of touch and candlelight, intimate and quiet, accompanied by just bass and flugelhorn. They didn’t play This could be the start of something big, although it’s a jazz standard, but this concert may have been. Luke’s got amiability and feel and jazz chops and for singer’s it’s a world of opportunity. I’ll be watching and I’ve got a signed copy of his first CD. Break a leg, Liam. Liam Budge (vocals) led a band with Luke Sweeting (Rhodes, piano, organ), Ken Allars (trumpet), Chris Pound (bass) and Tim Firth (drums). Tom Sly (flugelhorn, trumpet) sat in for two songs.

We only caught two final songs from the opening act, Jess Pollard and Steve Barry. This is a Sydney pair, singer and keys, with some witty lyrics, curt phrasing and a delicious tremolo that wheedles its way into the high notes. Not enough to report on but I wish we’d heard more. Jess Pollard (vocals) paired with Steve Barry (Rhodes).

Coming together

DRUMatiX presented the first of two nights of performance for its 15-year retrospective. William Jackson introduced it at one stage by noting that percussion is the oldest of musical forms and that’s “inexhaustibly diverse”. I’ve been thinking about both those claims. It’s easy to think that it’s the oldest musical form. Certainly, it’s basic, requires no complex and constructed instruments although it wields a few these days. There’s something essential and would-be prehistoric about slapping or slamming or hitting one thing against another, and there’s lots of timber amongst the instruments and that’s a product that’s been around forever. The other claim is inexhaustibly diverse. That’s more difficult, but this concert showed a vast array of styles and dynamics and tuned and untuned instruments, so maybe it’s true. Here’s the program.

Gary’s France’s Celebration was an exciting and joyous rock drum rhythm, enhanced by three snares/toms and interspersed with a melody on glockenspiel, vibes and other tuned percussion and played by an array of performers across the stage.
Next was Kalabash, the first Nigel Westalake tune, this one played on two wonderfully thuddy and luminous marimba by four players. This was all child-like tonality, bouncy and intriguing as the melody flowed over barlines in what I guessed was some sort of polyrhythm overlaying 4 and 3. It had to reference Africa, but I found that more with the later Westlake piece. Then a blindfolded duet in 3/4 with a rhythmic melody on woodblocks and accompaniment with damped toms, called Blindfold music. Bree van Reyk said she’d arranged this after noting that orchestral audiences were as interested in the choreography of percussion as by the sounds. Then some John Cage music for prepared toy piano, arranged for 4 percussionists. Then a long work of many movements, Transmutations by Anthony Pateras, performed by six percussionists on drums and cymbals and any number of other percussionable instruments laid out on a long bench in front of them, and led by a conductor. Perhaps it was here I noted the dramatic lighting and I had my own choreography moment. After interval, the first movement of Steve Reich’s Drumming, played by four performers with eight mallets on eight bongo drums. I recently gave up on a CD of this after a few minutes, but music works so much better when played live. Then Musique de Tables, by Thierry de Mey, with three women sweeping tables and tapping and clapping to three, dramatically lit charts. What a demonstration of dynamics, as I strained to hear the swishes of hands lightly drawn across folding tables. What a stunner! Then my favourite Nigel Westlake, Omphalo Centric Lecture, again with four players on two marimba, but this time accompanied by two drummers and with some African vocals and thumb piano. There were two further items on the program which maybe they didn’t; perform, or otherwise I merged in my mind with the Westlake composition. Certainly there was no change of instruments or performers.

Then the magnum opus, Coming Together by Frederic Rzewski. Eric Ajaye came on stage in work-house chains to recount the words of Sam Melville, 6 months in Attica and killed in the subsequent riot. This was tense, political, emotional, with repeated lines.
The text was from a letter to his brother. You can read the text on the Net, but some lines stood out “i am in excellent physical and emotional health. there are doubtless subtle surprises ahead but i feel secure and ready” and and “i can act with clarity and meaning. i am deliberate - sometimes even calculating - seldom employ histrionics” and “i read much, exercise, talk to guards and inmates, feeling for the inevitable direction of my life”. Wikipedia suggests Melville was not so innocent but neither was Attica. This was a charged environment that we can only imagine in these TINA days. The music was powerful, incessant. I looked for the steady bass and found it as an unceasing electronic keyboard line, subtly varying and played with mallets. Miro provided an imploring, muted trumpet melody while colour and fills and chords came from a bevy of 12 percussionists. This was stunning and overwhelming and purposeful music.

The final words of the night were thanks given to Gary France, associate professor, obvious friend and open-hearted supporter of the group and “a facilitator of dreams”. This truly seemed a wonderfully effective and creative department. There was obvious love of the form and support and respect for all within it and readiness to take part in whatever projects arose. Great music of considerable diversity, but also an honest presentation of active musical inquisitiveness. What a privilege to attend this retrospective. Let’s hope this retrospective doesn’t mark the end DRUMatiX performers were percussionists Gary France, Bree van Reyk, William Jackson, Steve Fitzgerald, Charles Martin, Christina Hopgood, Yvonne Lam, Anna Ng, Veronica Bailey, Jonathan Griffiths, Bart Haddock, Jacinta Dunlop, Adam Cooper-Stanbury, Wesley Faulkiner, Niki Johnson, Jared Synnott and Thomas Chalker with Eric Ajaye (vocals) and Miroslav Bukovsky (trumpet). Also Josh Chaffey (sound) and Owen Horton (lighting).

Geoff’s other side

Geoff Page staged a launch of his latest book of poetry at the Paperchain bookshop in Manuka last night. There were a string of poets and friends, but also a cabal of Geoff’s jazz-attending mates. Geoff is a regular at the Loft and has run his own monthly jazz session for years and written poems on jazz and a biography of Bernie McGann and performed his poetry with some of the best offsiders around. But this is his other side. His new publication is Cloudy nouns and he passingly promoted another collection of travel poetry written in iambic tetrameter, ABCB. He was introduced by jazz trumpeter Alex Raupach; his book was launched by once Canberra Times literary editor Gia Metherell; Geoff chatted and read some poems; finally the session was seen out by Geoff’s partner, Alison. There were wines and cheeses and the place was packed and chatty, so this was a pleasant evening of enlightenment and considered language. Of the readings, I particularly warmed to a travel poem on a French church tower with its discipline of rhyme and meter and witty interplay of architecture and divinity. But it’s best just to let the words speak for themselves (with Geoff's permission)

Breton belfries

Breton belfries are entirely
labour, granite, bells and air.
Through them you catch a slope of wheat
sometimes houses, starched and spare.
More often low slung swells of cloud
or sudden reaches of the sea.
The belfries let the wind flow through
showing God’s transparency.