Not really jazz, but a tightrope

The locals do experimental, too. I’ve come to experimental music and free jazz through Richard and Shoeb and SoundOut and Smiths Bookshop and a few more connections. It’s not a popular form. It’s not even something I warmed to at first. I guess it’s got rules. It looks like it can be faked but the cognoscenti see through it. Skills make the difference and you can sometimes judge them. Some skills are just too far out of the mainstream for common recognition, like separated sax mouthpieces or playing underwater and the like. I can recognise bass technique, even if it’s unconventional, and also standard instruments played with trained technique. Similarly, I can recognise musical sensibility in the use of echo and processing and loops and electronica. It’s otherworldly but still human. And often, even without conscious recognition, but closing your eyes you can tell that something has structure or flow or harmony or tonality. This music is largely post-tonal so needs to be judged in its own context. So as I newcomer, I like to hear different approaches, different people, different skills and conceptualisations; to cover the waterfront. This night, at Smiths, before Philipe Petit, I heard three short sets and three groups: interesting and educational.

First up was Luke Pendeaux and Danny Wild. As I understand, Luke played sampler and sequencer (Roland SP404 and MC303) with Danny on laptop sequencer (Ableton live). This was rhythmic music an underlay of drone, heavy in repetition and minimal in change. Various samples were dredged up, edited and discombobulated, mixed with occasional voice that was similarly processed, the whole changing gently over time, with occasional squeals and whale calls and space ship launches and detunes and slow downs. I liked the slightly latin starting groove but wondered how we got to a shuffle swing at the end. I initially felt a sonata-like form in three parts - exposition, recapitulation - but then it seemed to continue to further parts. One thing that’s quite unique about this music is how it’s busily automated so leaving time for swig of a beer between thoughts. That’s civilised. When I go for a beer on stage, it’s usually an unholy intrusion.

Second was Shoeb Ahmad. He would have played duo with Philipe Petit but equipment availability intervened. His key instrument is the guitar, a telecaster with single pole twang, slow arpeggios, sustained chords. This is not a music of guitar virtuosity but of watery change. He uses a string of effects and a sampler. The twang undergoes watery change. But it overlays an unrelenting noise of notes without end. It’s overwhelming, threatening, other than human, throbbing. We felt lost, threatened, rolled by a tsunami of sound. Just breathing, throbbing with heartbeat regularity. But then human sounds like clap slicks, primitive, cicada sounds, and a final crescendo of sampler then strummed chords and silence. Unsettling music, dark despite the country twang.

Third was a trio of Andrew Fedorovich, Reuben Ingall and John Wilton. Their presentation was earthy, animal. These were calls in the wild from sax mouthpiece. Rugged slaps and windblown shudders, echoing and grooving like ants and bats in the night. Then decay, an electronic drop in pitch, like a plane falling or a perhaps a crow circling, aware, calm, observant. Then night nocturnal creatures, mystery and unknowingness, Sustained twisted, bent animal tone from sax and splashed of malletted cymbals to replace the regularity of mallets on skin. Then suddenly violence leading to slow decay and some relief. Here again I noticed the automation, laptop wielding Reuben able to take a swig while sax and drums were immediate, in the moment, living as in humanity.

How else to describe this music? I close my eyes and more than other musics, its soundscape expands and its logic appears. Its direct and unconventional and even uncivilised, and that can be good in art. Whatever, I’ll be hearing more, especially with the fourth SoundOut Festival of this music coming up in just a few weeks’ time. The performers were was Luke Pendeaux (sequencer, sampler) and Danny Wild (sequencer); Shoeb Ahmad (guitar, effects, sampler); Andrew Fedorovich (alto sax), Reuben Ingall (laptop) and John Wilton (drums). The location was Smith’s Alternative Bookstore.

Sirens or mothers

Cyrenes is a women’s choir. I can’t think of a choir of massed voices that I’ve heard recently that’s not a mixed choir of male and female voices, SATB (Soprano-Alto-Tenor-Bass) or thereabouts. There was Chorus of Women but they were a quartet. I was wondering if the tone would be strident, thin, too light and high for my ears, but it was nothing like that. In fact, I was surprised by the low voices of several few bass-like lines. I shouldn’t have been. There’s plenty of crossover between the sexes, not just in pitch of voices but we hear it in voices, too: counter-tenors singing with altos; here, women singing higher tenor lines. This wasn’t just sky-high soprano, but forceful and confident groove-setting. So, my first impression was the broad sweep of pitch and effectiveness of the parts. But on the other hand, I was mightily impressed by several pure, airy soprano voices that floated above the ruck. This was not power but beauty. It’s what I initially expected from a female choir but, of course, it’s just part of the mix. And this whole was a comfortable and welcoming mix. I felt the voices and phrasings sat well together. The Cyrenes have been together for 20 years and they sing with a conductor and without charts and this all helps listening and expression. They were comfortable musically and welcoming personally and it shows in their sound.

They sang an interesting mix of modern and world styles. They walked onto stage in subgroups singing Alleluia. They sang Joni Mitchell (Big yellow taxi) and James Taylor (Lonesome road) and Mary Chapin Carpenter (Why walk). Also referencing the ‘60s but very different in style were a musical setting for words from Khalil Gibran (The Prophet) on the role of parents with their children, and Kumbaya (thankfully, from the Soweto Gospel Choir rather than the campfire). These are easy tunes to denigrate, but I enjoyed them, especially the Prophet. Perhaps because I never had it in a poster on the wall, so I never knew the words, or perhaps because I was a child then and it’s really a truth for adults. There was innocent jazz (Blue moon) and a few other songs of folk truth that I hadn’t heard before. But my favourites, as musical presentations, have to be the two African tunes: a traditional Zambian farewell song in call and response format called Thamba and a South African song of sending love called Thuma mina. There’s an earthy emotional resonance in these songs that’s refreshingly different from modern cosmopolitan life.

So I found the sounds and voices lovely and sometimes beauteous and not at all shrill or tiring. But perhaps I’ll take away a memory of women’s business. These songs all said something: sometimes in words; sometimes in the emotional truth of the music. Many of these women would be mothers, and I can see the honesty and guidance and care of mothers and more widely, of women, showing through. And as they dissolved into the audience after the gig, with children in tow or friends and family around, this was just confirmed. Nice music well sung, but also true expression. Not really siren-like at all. Cyrenes performed at the High Court for the Canberra 100 Musical Offering. They were led by Glenda Wadsley with singers Mary Martin, Anne Gardner, Bron King, Lucy Ferguson (sopranos), Judith Cubbage, Charine Bennett, Merilyn Jenkins, Lois Wishart Lindsay, Louise Gell, Angie Corcoran (altos), Jane Hardy, Vicki Bell, Pamela Foster, Kathy Walsh, Karen Cook, Jacquie Reid (tenors and basses).

S.H.E.’s off to China

++ Publication embargoed to 14 Jan 2013 ++

I reckon S.H.E. is a perfect band name*. It stands for the Seven Harp Ensemble. S.H.E. is led by Alice Giles and comprises seven women. We saw them at the Artist’s Shed, Queanbeyan. They were off to China the next morning to perform on national TV for an expected audience on 80 million (!) and subsequently in the National Centre for the Performing Arts. The gig followed three days of rehearsal at the shed. Now, this is a group out of the now-reviewed and -reformulated ANU School of Music, and they were practising for a very significant international performance (with DFAT involvement) at a local galvanised-iron gallery in an industrial area in Qbn. Taking Canberra to the world for our 100th anniversary. Moving forward. But that’s another story.

A twangle** of harps has a distinct sound, and it’s actually not all a twangle to my ears. I variously heard ancient lyre tones and chromatic sweeps, acoustic guitar tones of gut and nylon strings, piano tones but without the percussive dynamics, techniques like harmonics and damping and variations of plucking styles, taps and hits as in Spanish guitar. S.H.E. played a varied repertoire sounding of China and Australia and Spain and the Baroque. I noticed how we were aware of arrangements. Harp is not the most common instrument. I guess the repertoire is limited and arrangements for it, especially for a larger ensemble, are also limited. So there were frequent mentions of arrangers and arrangements; two tunes were arranged by band members; there was discussion of two part and more complex arrangements; plus they performed four pieces commissioned for S.H.E. The commissioned pieces were by far my favourites. The concert started with a light, pop Chinese song, arranged by Tegan Peemoeller, and made popular in China through a Chinese soap opera. I didn’t see the big concert, and what they were performing was a secret, but my guess is that they performed this tune. There’s nothing like pleasing an audience of 80 million! It was uncomplicated, with a call and response melody and a mildly inquisitive air about it. Nice but unchallenging. Then the Pavane by Anonymous from the C16th: lovely and well known. Two movements from Handel’s Water music arranged by Ingrid Bauer: courtly and danceable. Then one of the original commissions, The Meaning of water by Andrew Schultz, with a melody that echoed from two harps. Then two preludes from Marcel Tournier, both sounding to me of pastoral romanticism and early C20th. Then my favourite for the night, an impressionistic piece by Larry Sitsky called Perpetuum mobile (Fantasia no.13). Then Ross Edwards’ moody, pensive Arafura arioso, an arrangement by RE for the ensemble of the second movement of his guitar concerto. Then a playful, toy-like piece, written for the ensemble by Martin Wesley-Smith and referencing Alice in Wonderland, called Alice in the garden of live flowers. Given that each harpist identified with a flower, I assume it also referenced Alice Giles in her own garden. At times, it sounded to me like a portable organ grinder, but it was more complex and bigger: cute and toyish with child-like openness and crossing into impressionism and rich in confusing polyrhythms. Nice! Then an arrangement by Australian-born Londoner, Tony Brenner of Ravel’s Alberado del gracioso and then the Malagueña, and to finish, an Australian folksong medley, arranged by Tegan Peemoeller, that just has to be on the program for their China visit.

It was a gentle outing, as harp concerts are. It actually got quite loud but it never felt like it, and at other times I was straining to hear the harps over the air conditioning. (This was subsequently reported as the day of the highest average temperature on record for Australia. Another case of moving forward, this time towards +5 degrees). It was a very female outing, as the uptake of harp seems to be gendered. It was also a well attended event (but bigger to follow), which only enlivened the mysterious air of secrecy around what they were playing on TV. Now that’s not something I’ve encountered in a concert before. Everyone loves a thriller, and I guess this was a harpist equivalent. Strange and a touch otherworldly, gentle and varied, this was a memorable and unique event. S.H.E. gave a well-attended concert at the Artists’ Shed in Queanbeyan before their visit to China to perform on Beijing TV’s Spring Festival Global Gala and at the Chinese National Centre for the Performing Arts. S.H.E. (=Seven Harp Ensemble) is led by Alice Giles with Genevieve Lang, Hilary Manning, Ingrid Bauer, Lucy O’Shea, Tegan Peemoeller and Laura Taranta.

*I once had a perfect band name like this and it was similarly gendered. M.E.N.S. (Mike, Eric, Nitya, Scott appearing as M.E.N.S.). A name like this is a rare opportunity.

**Collective pronoun for harps from Wikipedia; a sharp ringing sound as from a plucked string

What? Not hot?

Who says Canberra is not hot? The weather’s been record-breaking and there’s a smoke haze outside in the morning as I write this. I caught Cam and Courtney’s Brass Knuckle Brass Band last night and they were steaming from the first notes of the first tune.
I was surprised at just how comfy and ready they were for those first notes. It’s a good sign and I could feel the eagerness around the dance floor. These are all experienced and trained players and they’ve been playing around, including a recent little tour to Melbourne. It shows. This is lively, easy, solid music that’s funky and insinuating and danceable. It was infectious because the band was having a genuinely good time. And it was refreshing in tone, with its horns and pillowy sousa bass and sharp drums and vocals from Courtney and even Cam at times. I stayed for most, but retreated at the end of the set to rest my ears. But it’s a meat-market in Civic on the weekend with the women-who-can’t-walk and the daggie blokes and the accidental disco mix on the street. I prefer the relaxed cauldron of exotic and sober at the Phoenix despite the crush and noise. I expected to hear two other bands, Americans and Brisbanites, doing something related, but I was called back to our street with its own excitement and heat. I arrived to find police and fire brigades and a house lost to fire. This has been a week of heat. Friends out of Yass fearing bushfires; a lost house in our street; the carnal heat of a Canberra summer night. It all feels like an end-of-time experience, but of course it isn’t. Even climate change isn’t threatening an end-of-time; just of civilisation as we know it.

Brass Knuckle Brass Band were Courtney Stark (vocals), Cameron Smith (trumpet, vocals),Tim Bowyer (trumpet), Michael Bailey (trombone), Sophie Chapman (trombone), David Abkiewicz (sousaphone), Nick Combe (baritone sax) and Robert Nesci (drums).

A short history of Western music

So said David Mackay. He was welcoming a generous audience to a performance by the Coro chamber choir in the High Court foyer. It was another free concert for the Canberra 100 Musical Offerings series. Coro is a relatively new chamber choir formed by David and Paul Eldon. David mentioned there were some gaps in this history – 200 years and Bach and Handel missing in the Baroque years – but this was certainly a broad sweep of styles and beautifully performed. The voices merged mellifluously with gentle attacks for each note, the choristers were obviously listening with care and there were some particularly satisfying and identifiable voices. You heard individual voices in solos or feature lines, but also when the voice was aimed in your direction. This was not a large choir (11 on the day and fewer for several pieces) and it was laid out in a curved line fronting the audience. The space was generous. The High Court foyer is tall: cubic in form with intrusions of concrete stairways and ramps and some adjacent low ceilings, so the space is modern and irregular and clean and quite dry. It’s also spacious and dignified and sparsely decorated. Perfect for a modern chamber choir.

The concert started with Caritas abundant by Hildegard von Bingen: calm, meditative chant sung by male countertenor and four women. Then an original setting by David Yardley for an olde English lullaby with harp called Lullay, lullay litel child; Nigra sum sedis formosa by Tomas Luios de Victoria, sounding of classic cathedral choirs; an amorous love song from Jon Dowland called Come away, come, sweet love; and the interwoven melody of Zefira torna by Monteverdi. Then a jump from late-Renassance / early Baroque to classical. First Mozart’s Piu non si travano with counterpoint, then Mendelssohn’s Auf ihrem Grab with richer, bigger chords, and Vaughan-Williams sounding of sweet English country. Then into the twentieth century. Nils Lindberg’s settgign for Shakespeare’s connet, Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day, introduced some chromatic movements and harmonies and sweeping melodic movements rather than contrapuntal interplay. Edward Higginbotham’s arrangement for O Waly, Waly was more individualist, starting with featured tenor then soprano voices. I particularly enjoyed the following tune by Eric Whiteacre and strained to catch the lyrics. This marriage was a tender and thoughtful but optimistic lyric, obviously written to be sung at a wedding. This was lovely and touching and contemporary. Then a final song by David Mackay, Mary-darkness, which was lightly dissonant with moving tones and dedicated to his wife.

It was a broad spectrum and I particularly enjoyed the more modern songs, I think because they have been less common at the choral concerts that I’ve attended. What a satisfying concert and competent choir. I’ll look forward to catching more from Coro. On the day, Coro were Gabriel Bieniek, Jane Haycock, Jo Johnstone (sopranos), Maartje Sevenster, David Yardley (altos), Paul Eldon, David Mackay, John Virgoe (tenors), Ian Blake, Andrew Fysh, Daniel Sanderson (basses).

Small chorus of women

It continues to surprise me that new musical groups come out of the woodwork. This one was the Chorus of Women. It’s a simple descriptive name, so maybe that’s why I didn’t remember them, but this group is quite a celebrity and has been performing for a decade. It first sang at Parliament House in March 2003 when 150 women gathered to protest Australia’s entry into Gulf War II. We all know it made no difference, despite a massive movement around the world and the obvious deceptions (think aluminium tubes and portable chemical factories and many more). But this group got a feature on the ABC’s 7.30 Report and Phillip Adams described them as “the most controversial chorus in Australian history” and they have since appeared in theatres and pubs and universities and toured Australia and Bulgaria so they are renowned.

They come from a folk tradition and are non-adversarial and specifically claim lineage from the ancient choruses that spoke truth to power. We certainly need some of that. This concert featured a quartet from the larger choir. They introduced and sang nine songs and an encore over ~40 minutes, so some tunes were surprisingly short. This was four female voices, honest lyrics and original songs, accompanied by occasional guitar and bodrhan and recorder, predominantly triple times, frequent drones, sweet harmonies, some counterpoint, scales that sounded of the middle East or Scotland or olde England, Bulgarian female ululations. It’s not a music I normally hear, but I’m sure it’s common at the folk festival and vigils of all sorts. It’s honest and true and quite lovely, but I’m not sure it communicates too well these days. The audience was quite grey and I noticed a wry smile from a 20-something passing through the foyer. Despite my boomer status, it was too earnest and folksy for my tastes, but then I’m more ‘70’s than ‘60’s and I prefer Motown to Neil Young. But I admire Leonard Cohen and I can respect these singers and enjoy their skills and I respect what they stand for and highly regard that they stand for anything. So few of us do these days. It may be communitarian and folksy and it’s not the way of the Shiny Bums or the Cashews, but it’s immediately democratic and that’s citizenship in action (even if, in practice, it’s rolled by corporate lobbying). They sing of poverty and peace and Canberra’s fire and Gaia and they strive for wisdom and they are an open choir and welcoming (although I'm not sure where blokes stand in this openness) and they had some lovely soaring female voices, so all good.

A quartet from the Chorus of Women performed in the National Library foyer for the Canberra 100 Musical Offering. The quartet comprised Judith Clingan (soprano, recorder, drum), Meg Rigby (soprano, guitar flute), Johanna McBride (mezzo soprano) and Glenda Cloughley (alto). BTW, the stone from the Pantainos Library in the Agora, Athens, was a gift of the Greek Government to Australia. It’s embedded below one of the columns in the NLA’s foyer.

Chorus of Women website

Boho musings

We’re back in Canberra for its 100th birthday and Toulouse-Lautrec. The National Gallery of Australia is hosting its blockbuster, a retrospective on TL. We all know the posters and the story of the short man at the Moulin Rouge. I didn’t expect to find it so interesting, but I did. I enjoyed a few renowned works and was underwhelmed by a few others, including one drawing whose subject I could not even make out. Strangely, I came across the end of Moulin Rouge, the film, that night and the characters fit so neatly. TL is renowned for his characters and for his inhabiting the sultry side of town along with his young and poor artist confreres. He died young (37) and he was sickly (a congenital disease and two broken legs in youth and his short stature) but he was from wealthy stock and returned to the family property to die. So this is not just a story of poverty and comsumption. I was interested in the thin and pale colours coming from oil paints thinned with turps and painted on cardboard; the blank space left in the frame; the draftsmanship and pen-work and lithography; the framing on diagonals and perspective that mirrored wide-angled lensed photography. The NGA seemed to hold a goodly collection of the prints, although the oils were loans from Tate or Met or MOMA or other. It’s hardly a life-changing exhibition, but there were plenty of recognisable images and an entre to the very stylish Parisian characters of the era. Post-’60s, I find it hard to associate style with art and alt., but they certainly did. The dandy was a radical figure in the late 19th century. This era gave us the Paris we know, but it was a very new invention, being post-Haussmann with new building styles and open spaces and boulevards and presumably the destruction of the mediaeval city. So these artists were in a new place rather than in deep and resonant surroundings. Perhaps Berlin is the current parallel with all its rebuilding; certainly it’s renowned at the moment for its vibrant culture. So I mused as we wondered a quiet New Year’s Eve session at the NGA. This was interesting for its art and characters and also for the cultural issues it raises. But for all the prostitutes and dancers and cabaret artists portrayed, it remains a show at a gallery. The real boho thing was in town, but I missed that: the NYE 1927 (centenary of Canberra) celebration with nude Can-Can.

Toulouse-Lautrec : Paris & the Moulin Rouge is the National Gallery of Australia’s summer exhibition for early 2013.

Images above are:

Jockey-Chevaux de Courses, color lithograph by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, image from Yale University Art Gallery on Wikicommons. NGA also owns a copy

Jane Avril, colour lithograph by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, image from Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art on Wikicommons

La Goulue arriving at the Moulin Rouge, oil on cardboard by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, image from MOMA on Wikicommons

NGA exhibition website

Blonde on blonde

It’s is a romantic comedy, I guess, and it’s definitely musical theatre, but I got to Legally Blonde in Sydney and enjoyed it lots. Not for the plot – boy leaves girl for Harvard Law School; girl follows and finds love and success in her own quirky Californian way. Perhaps it was the themes - there were plenty that got touched on: be positive and be true to yourself and be honest and trustworthy, all enmeshed in a goodhearted mix of pink feminism and collegial sisterhood.
There were strange hints at higher concerns, like the Greek chorus and Thomas Hobbes and the Polonius quote (even if it’s frequently ridiculed in the original): “to thine own self be true, / And it must follow, as the night the day, / Thou canst not then be false to any man” (Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act 1, scene 3, 78–81). There’s pride in a chip on the shoulder and a resulting commitment to hard work. There are frequent Americanisms, like the cheerleaders and the sorority chumminess of Delta Nu, which is also the source of the Greek chorus. There’s jovial lust and earthy characters - the hairdresser and delivery man - to match the patricians and professionals. There’s some groan-worthy humour: is the too-good looking guy Gay or European; what’s the import of the TTP (=Totally Terrible Perm). As you can imagine, it’s silly, but I found this also energetic and exuberant, busily arranged and well played and strongly sung, exhaustingly danced and joyously presented. The sets were good and the lights were decent and the proscenium arch was strangely but effectively highlighted. The music was punctuated and not too repetitive (my thinking is that some degree of repetitiveness is needed in this form) and sometimes touched on rap and funk and soul. And it was a genuinely nice story, as romcoms are. If that’s all it is, then so be it. I enjoyed it and this was a decent night out. After all, I’m on holidays with my Mum.

Legally Blonde: the Musical was performed at the Lyric Theatre at the Star Casino in Sydney and featured Lucy Durack (as the central character Elle Woods), Rob Mills, David Harris, Helen Dallimore, Erika Heynatz and Cameron Daddo and two cute dogs who stole the show whenever they came on. For interest, the band was Kellie Dickerson (Musical director, keys), David Piper and Dave Skelton (keys), Tim Oran and Mark Taylor (reeds 2), Simon Sweeney and Tim Crow (trumpets), Colin Philpott (trombone, heather Burnley (violin), Chris Wright (guitar, etc), David Stratton (basses), Jamie Castrisos (drums) and Richard Gleeson (percussion).

Production pics by Jeff Busby; used with permission

More pics of Legally Blonde, while they remain available

Almost family

We’re in Sydney for a few days and near Hyde Park and the Australian Museum and its Alexander the Great blockbuster exhibition. Nothing planned, but it was fortuitous. We love our antiquities and go some distance to see them, and these were from the Hermitage in St Petersburg. We’d never been there, so this is a double dip. But then, a touring exhibition is never like being there. We liked the outing and learned something of this famed, young general taught by no less than Aristotle, and his brilliant (although standard) tactics, and the breadth of his journeys and conquests. We enjoyed a range of artistic and archaeological exhibits that covered the last 3 millennia and more (the earliest item I noticed was a papyrus dated 3,000BCE). What interested me most was the range of exhibits: jewellery and weaponry and sculptures from Alexander’s time and then a range of exhibits in memory of this most famed of historical personages, like paintings from the renaissance, incunabula and manuscripts, some delicious works from the courts of Catherine the Great and Louis XIV. I drooled over the gold. I am always amazed by how modern jewellery is so frequently influenced by ancient jewellery and I love the details of leaves or flowers or ships or whatever is portrayed. I particularly love the vibrant colour of gold that remains so undiminished over the centuries. But I will remember the exhibition for its cameos. I like cameos although they are hardly a very fashionable thing. I associate them with the ‘60s and Italian realism, but maybe that’s just a family thing. I’ve seen them in museums in Italy and on sale at Pompei. My favourite work on display was a massive cameo of exquisite detail with a pedigree that included Queen Christina of Sweden, the Vatican, Napoleon’s Josephine and Alexander I of Russia: the Gonzaga portrait of Ptolemy II Philadelphus and Arsinoe II. And, as for family connection, we saw a range of cameos copied at the request of Catherine the Great from originals by James Tassie, who happens to be the brother of one of Megan’s ancestors. We joked that we should claim free entry given the family connection and that virtually everyone could claim free entrance to a blockbuster for Genghis Khan. Taking in a blockbuster is not like a visit to a great collection but it’s still an education and a pleasure. I’ll claim this one as a family event although Alexander himself is not quite on the family tree. (Pics not allowed, so see the link below).

Pictures from an exhibition

Alt. autopsy

It’s an annual event and it’s another way to view this bleak year in Australian politics. At least this time with a laugh. It’s the exhibition, Behind the lines: the year’s best political cartoons. I first attended this annual event several years back at the National Museum. It’s now (aptly) downstairs at MOAD (Museum of Australia Democracy, or better, Old Parliament House).
To me, MOAD seems an aspirational, Howard-era name. From the time when we honoured the Magna Carta with its own park then casually ignored habeas corpus. (I need a better segue, but it reminds me that I heard serious talk of Aussie exceptionalism on the radio the other day. It’s such an insular and self-congratulatory term. I hope it makes it as a topic for a cartoon next year). There’s always a good deal of mirth at this exhibition, although the tenor of Australia federal politics has been disheartening this year, so it was harder to raise a chuckle for some of the topics. But there were some goodies. I’m trying to decide a favourite between the car sticker showing Gillard’s depressing Parliamentary family (My disfunctional family / Mark Knight, Herald Sun, 21 Feb 2012) or the CEOs and Gillard as the kings with no clothes (Cheap Asian imports / Peter Nicholson, The Australian, 28 Mar 2012) or the journos hanging out for a leadership spill (What the media wants / Fiona Katauskas, Eureka Street, 22 Feb 2012) or a few on the carbon tax (The gold tax / Jon Kudelka, The Australian, 31 Jul 2012 and Sausages / Michael Leunig, The Age, 8 Nov 2011) or a primer on becoming a billionaire (How to become a billionaire / Jon Kudelka, The Australian, 6 Sep 2012) or plain packaging (SuperBaccysFragiLegalTacticalSclerosis / David Pope, Canberra Times, 16 Aug 2012) or political fairy-tale-telling (The Magnate of La Mancha / David Pope, Canberra Times, 12 Mar 2012) or a pair by perhaps my favourite cartoonist (excluding my other favourites) First Dog on the Moon, from Crickey (Eat the children of the rich / First Dog on the Moon, Crikey, 21 Feb 2012 and My last day on Earth / First Dog on the Moon, Crikey, 29 Jun 2012). Oh, and I forgot, there are others… If you can’t get to OPH, it’s all online. An annual Christmas release valve for Australian political junkies. The annual Behind the Lines exhibition of Australian political cartoons was held at the Museum of Australian Democracy in the Old Parliament House.

Behind the lines online

Echoes of Christmas

It was on a notice board at work that I saw the announcement for this choral concert. The choir was Echo Voices. I’d never heard of them, but it was local and we were free so we dropped in. It turned out to be a lovely and quite unexpected interlude.
Leonard Weiss led the choir. He’s a current ANU student of composition with long experience in choirs. Echo voices are a community choir. They’d first met in July and this was their first public outing. I was pleasantly surprised by the first songs, with several notable voices, both male and female, and some decent harmonies and decisive dynamics. Some more complex counterpoint was less settled, but nothing that time and experience won’t iron out. The repertoire was also a pleasant surprise. From traditional Scottish bordering on shanties, through some well knowns, like Silent night and Lock Lomond, and Icelandic and English and olde French. I recognised Coventry carol, lovely with its tragic story and moving parts. Also interesting, and well sung, was a tune volunteered to the choir by local notable Judith Clingan. To my ears it combined simple harmony with a satisfying melody with one chromatic move. We were invited to sing along with the final song, We wish you a Merry Christmas, and I saw but didn’t hear mouths moving. But the good will and joy at the end of the first concert was evident and families and friends settled in for chockies and cherries and Christmas cakes. Interestingly, Leonard mentioned that the ANU School of Music had supported the choir in purchasing some charts. I wonder if this is indicative of the new role of the Music School as a catalyst in the community. We’ll have to wait and watch, but it would win back some of the ill-will that was so evident following last year’s blitzkrieg. Also thanks to Canberra Grammar who provided the rehearsal and performance space. They are doing some very good things in music outreach these days.

The Echo Voices choir was Leonard Weiss (director, conductor, pianist) with Ada Goldsmith, Belinda Weiss, Karen Dahl (sopranos), Amanda Mahhony, Carmen Longbottom, Carolyn Keegan, Clare Smith (altos), Crystal Muller, John Curmi, Peter Himmelreich (tenors), Lachlan Bayliss, Rob Bearlin (bass). Crystal Muller relieved as conductor for two songs.

Autopsy before onslaught

It’s been a draining and disappointing year in politics. I attended the last Politics in the Pub session, with Richard Denniss, and it was not happy or optimistic but at least it was realistic. Political observers and operators can be like this. There’s openness and truth telling in these groups, at least in private, that you don’t get in spin-managed public statements. I find it intellectually satisfying although often disheartening. This was somewhat disheartening, but at least a commitment to politics remains.

Richard started by defending politics, which may surprise some, and identifying our problem as an absence of competent politics. Competent politics is required for good policy and public support. With bad politics, the public is just interested enough to tune in and be disappointed. Richard discussed this in the context of several broken policies. Form 2007 to now, how did we come from endorsement for action on climate change, by the public and both sides of politics, to rising denialism, a loss of support for action, a limited pricing scheme and point scoring on the issue. The message here is do it quickly, make it good enough then improve it, don’t waste time finding the perfect fix. There are less salubrious messages, too, like manage and use groups to your advantage, even divide and conquer. The mining tax was another example. It was initially well supported by the public and other businesses which would benefit from reduced corporate tax. The Government argued business needs certainty but then changed everything, so undermining its certainty message. And it collapsed under a (relatively cheap) marketing campaign, so showing one path to influencing government decisions. Think pokies. Another example was Rudd at the 2007 election and thereafter. He claimed to be more economically conservative than Howard, so Labor then couldn’t claim success from the classic Keynesian policies that were a world-breaking success with the GFC. He sees this as a bureaucratic approach to government, measuring success by legislation passed, rather than by influencing and convincing the public on big issues. Richard turned to Howard and his daily runs and cricket-tragic image and the subliminal message that politics is boring and trust your reps, but who radically moved Australia towards his image under the guise of conservative wariness of change. This is the point of delegated authority of Parliament. Rudd’s hyperactive spin just lined up work (we’ll revolutionise health; we just need to agree with state ministers first). And interestingly, Gillard is still busily legislating to implement Rudd’s agenda, scoring herself with legislation passed while politics burns and the public turns away. Why did the government seem reluctant for the Royal Commission on Child Abuse, and why are there so few subsequent announcements? It had 95% support but Labor seemed dragged to it and is squandering ownership. The message is that the main players (on both sides) are smart and sincere people, but they are just not good at their jobs. He didn’t question the political roles: governments have the advantage of setting the agenda; oppositions have the role of attacking government and promising the world. But both sides are just talking to our worst nature, playing the people and losing the issues. He likened the battle to two retired boxers: back in the ring, an ugly battle with lots of blood and no winner.

There were some questions. One on the sham that is the word “sustainable” as in sustainable growth. It pleases both sides of the argument but is uncertain so doesn’t support good policy. He discussed the responsibility and self-interest of the media as businesses. They used to take a balanced role as umpire to so as not to offend any groups and to maintain big readership. The new approach is to appeal to, so speak to and for, smaller groups in order to sell niche markets to advertisers. He noted that online news has shown unpalatable truths, that sex and trivia get the hits, so the job of pollies is to make people interested in things they might not otherwise follow. Also that we can’t always blame the media, given there are about 10 PR persons for every journo in Parliament House. He argued to be strategic in picking fights with the example that only 950 people work in forestry in Tassie, but highlighting the argument makes the group look more significant. In discussing small parties, he interested me by arguing that MPs, not party members, should choose their leaders because they are not bosses but leaders, so must be respected by their fellows. Not surprisingly, he commented on that dastardly phrase, “working families”, as cheap politics that creates “us and them” groupings and plays to dog whistles while sounding more positive than obvious old-school attack lines like “dole bludger”. So “working families” may be more polite but it’s pernicious. Talk about proving a point. Another proof appeared just the day after this event when Treasurer Swan discarded his promised surplus. I remember the good PR advice to never promise more than you can deliver. Delivering more than you promise is always well received, but delivering less isn’t, and the result is on show.

The event finished with end of year cheer: informed and opinionated political chatter and some goodies and beers. It was a pleasant respite before what we all expect will be an unedifying election year. Richard Denniss spoke at the Australia Institute’s Politics in the Pub end of year roundup session.

Idling before Christmas

It’s a quiet time for jazz, but the sounds of Christmas are out with the warm weather, shoppers and buskers. Mick Elderfield is back in town for a few days and I caught him at his spot collecting the public servants as they walk up to the Woden mall. His sparse, exploratory notes with big battered Selmer tone are a signature. He’s mostly ignored by the passing crowd, but I’m sure the sound of commitment to a profound craft subtly insinuates itself into harried citizens. It’s not all that’s new on this walk. Canberra’s newest work of public art (or work of public outrage for many complainants) is now in place after several weeks of installation: Culture fragment by David Jensz. I like it, certainly more than Woden’s classically simple teardrop. This is heavy copper piping, woven into a fabric square with tattered edges and tentacles trailing to the ground. I’m amused how it’s studiously ignored by the passers-by, except by one interested guy who I saw questioning the artist and assemblers one morning. I’m also amused by the backdrop of blank walls and graffiti tags. I just hope it’s not nicked for the value of its content, but it should be safe given the copper elbows are filled with cement grout.
This day was warm and sunny and I finished my idyll with a few girls playing violin and recorder and singing carols. Christmas is a relaxed time, especially in lucky, sunny Australia. I can feel the year unwinding now. Merry Christmas from Eric.

A thesis in dots?

I was interested to hear that Steve Barry is reading for his doctorate in music. His thesis concerns classical music and improvisation. It’s not a common association although I’ve written of it several times here recently. I was chatting to Alex in the break and he was talking of classical bassists and hand shapes and fingerboard technique. Jazz, and perhaps all creative music, is a magpie art (“Good artists borrow, great artists steal", supposedly Picasso) so I shouldn’t be surprised. So what of Steve’s take?

Someone mentioned classical influences but I felt this was clearly out of a jazz tradition. I thought of Brad Mehldau with his truncated lines and current sensibility but I heard just a spot of Chick Corea’s harmonic sense and unison melodies and perhaps some longer Keith Jarrett lines. Steve’s compositions were strong on chords, there were latin and rock rhythms, there were unexpected fillips of time or missing beats. I also felt his playing defined left and right hand roles of chords and melody, although there was an easy modal freedom in that melody and the lines easily played around the underlying bar structures. Classic contemporary jazz, not bop styled and seldom swung. I was interested in how a changing chordal structure is relegated to feel almost unchanging, but I expect this is the end result of 50+ years of modal jazz. And I was intrigued by the very busy but unharried playing of the whole band. There were lots of ideas, lots of commitment and un-affected variation here, but it felt settled with like long crescendos and occasional change. And long tunes, up to 30 minutes.

I’ve heard all these guys in Canberra in recent days and it’s been a pleasure. Steve with Jess Pollard; Alex with Mark Lockett; Tim with Liam Budge. How different can these outings be? Alex was again clear in thought, adventurous in intent and accurate in technique. I marvel at his big well-intoned interval jumps. I found his sound a bit podgier on this night, perhaps a bigger low-mid, but what expansive inventiveness and entrenched groove in these solos! Quite stunning. Tim excited me, again with an ease of presence, but with perfectly accurate and sharply rendered fills and embellishments and rudiments. Steve led with his own compositions and the lyrical freedom I mentioned above. I liked that they played a single, long set, ~90 minutes: more involving, more relaxed for after-gig chatter, and shorter for a workday evening. I reckon that’s something jazz could learn from rock showbiz: play long and hard, don’t rest too soon. There’s a lot of understated change here: piano to bass solo to drums against ostinato and the rest, but malleable and undemonstrative although clearly planned. The tunes were originals, and Wayne Shorter’s Taru. One was entitled Parks and dedicated to pianist Aaron Parks. Changes was a love song from a distance. Vintage was a right hand melody with syncopated left hand chords and contrapuntal bass. Listening to the CD as I write, it seems strong and forceful. On the night, I heard it as more internal, busy and outspoken but complex, conversational and inner directed. Whatever, it was complex and satisfying and virtuosic. How I like it. Great stuff. Steve Barry (piano) led a trio with Alex Boneham (bass) and Tim Firth (drums) at the Loft’s last gig for the year.