Tenorism

It was a night to wallow in tenor sax and hard swinging jazz when Niels Rosendahl and John Mackey played at the Gods. I commented to a few people that we don’t hear this straightahead, hard-biting blowing so often these days. People agreed and some were nostalgic. Niels said he feels most comfortable in this style. It’s a great style and pretty much the introduction of many people to jazz. It almost sounds almost quaint to describe it these days: hard swinging walking bass, richly embellished and busily energetic polyrhythms from drums, the colours and harmonic leads of modal comping on piano and that quintessential wail of the tenor in full abandon as it rides the chords or flies somewhere above them. Or later in the night when the ballads come out, the tempo is tamed, the energy is dissipated, but the depth remains. It wasn’t such a long night, so Body and soul, as clearly emoted as was Niels’ take on the Coleman Hawkins version of 1939, was not fatigued but it was intensely beautiful. The night’s tunes make up your truncated Real Book index: Body and soul, Johnny Griffin/John Coltrane/Hank Mobley’s All the things you are, Fletcher Henderson’s Invitation, Sam River’s Beatrice, Lester Young’s Lester leaps in, Charlie Parker’s Confirmation, Wayne Shorter’s Night dreamer, Joe Henderson’s Inner urge. Beatrice is a favourite ballad of mine but was fresh to my ears in this incarnation. John led that as a quartet. He also led Confirmation, this time as a duo with Mark on drums, in a take on the duo by Chick Corea (on drums!) and Michael Brecker from 1981. This was unrehearsed (no problem there), moving through rubato and swing, adventurous and eminently successful (nice combination). The band even snuck in two originals, both by John, and both in the style of the great tenors. Pantano Drive is a driving C-minor blues take on Mr PC, and Whoops! is a hardbop melody built on Giant steps changes (this was Niels’ choice in place of Giant steps itself). I recognised both and enjoyed them immensely. The two tenors played the heads in unison, and what power! These are two saxists with huge tone and ridiculously easy technique. But they are also quite different. John, mentor to Niels, is screeds of chromatic or tonal colour and masses of notes, so the return to melody is somewhat an unexpected delight. Niels takes a more classic solo development route of absorbing melody building to flourishes and a more judicious use of extravagance. But they are both mature performers and I love both approaches. Pianist Andy is another generation of performer (there are a few here). His comping was of the hardbop era, but his solos were more contemporary takes on most tunes, although I heard some straight boppy soloing towards the end. Rohan is an upcoming jazz star out of a classical background (I also heard him with the AYO) who’s wonderfully fluent with lyrical solos well into thumb positions and steady walks although I would have liked a fuller tone. Mark is a busy and detailed drummer who’s perfect for this style and just showed it again: mature and masterful. I was in a spot to watch his technique and it was devastating: so intricately detailed (I was dumbfounded to watch the delicate control of middle finger on snare stick) yet solid and intense and driving. This was a refreshing and immensely skilled concert and the essence of hard-biting jazz.

Niels Rosendahl (tenor sax) and John Mackey (tenor sax) led a quintet with Andy Butler (piano), Rohan Dasika (bass) and Mark Sutton (drums) at the Gods playing music of the jazz tenor greats.

Cyberhalides Jazz Photos by Brian Stewart

Who’d’ve thunk it

There are some instruments to which people give little recognition but any instrument can have profundity when played with creativity and skill and commitment. Larry Adler and the mouth harp is a case in point. Benny Chong and the ukelele is another. Benny played at the Front Café on Sunday and he was a revelation. Benny was in Australia for an international ukulele convention in Melbourne, but has a sister here is Canberra, so we lucked out. He plays jazz … yes, jazz … on a baritone ukulele tuned DGBE (I just learned the common uke is a soprano tuned GCEA) and it’s a wonder. His playing is chordally rich and melodically invigourating and he plays solos like a hot jazz guitarist. The uke community was out in force, of course, and I overheard talk of a workshop he’d given the previous day. I think it’s fair to say for many, the uke is an instrument of a few simple chords (like singer-songwriter guitarists), but he highlighted the need to know all the notes on the fingerboard and study chords alterations. All standard instrumental technique, but perhaps unexpected here. It’s just evidence of our prejudices on this instrument. But Benny is a master. He plays small gigs with stand in bassists. James Luke did an excellent job with Benny, throwing solos back and forth and providing a solid, driving foundation. Benny had played with Ben Robertson in Melbourne and Craig Scott in Sydney – he’s obviously no slouch! His tunes were mainly standards: Satin doll and Cheek to cheek; blowers like Oleo and All blues; ballads like the Nearness of you and Nightingale sang on Berkeley Square. He occasionally played solo – a Hawaiian tune and Johnny Mandel’s Emily. But mostly it was well known tunes and blow-out soloing with that identifiable tone: both sharp and thuddy and with limited sustain, fingerpicked or strummed with open hands. It’s a small fingerboard, too, so lots of frets in a small space so quite demanding on precision. I guessed they were nylon strings and their short string length would affect tension and tone. I revelled in his rich chordal soloing and fast and even dissonant solos. This was seriously swinging jazz. Great stuff: a revelation and a pleasant host, too.

I just arrived to see the end of Dollface’s set, but here’s a pic. Benny Chong (baritone ukulele) played with James Luke (bass) at the Front Café. Dollface were Alice Cottee (vocals), Cal Glugston (guitar) and Jay Lee (ukelele).

Closest to Bach

It felt like the closest that I’ve got to JS Bach when we heard the St Matthew Passion last night. It was performed by the Llewellyn Choir accompanied by the Llewellyn Sinfonia and conducted by Rowan Harvey-Martin at the Canberra Girls’Grammar School hall. Why the closest? I think because it’s storytelling in German. The music remains glorious, but the essence is the story, recited in German by the Evangelist and sung in person by several solo singers and the choir as the People. The words are the essence. It was likely first performed in Thomaskirke, where Bach worked at providing music each week, on Good Friday in 1727. This was work for Bach but it was work of a believer for presentation to other believers. It’s a Passion, a reciting of Christ’s suffering on the cross, the essence of the Christian story. And from my reading of dictionary.com and the Shorter Oxford, this is the origin, from Middle English and mediaeval Latin, of our common word, passion.

It’s a long work, written for soloists, double choir and double orchestra. It was to be performed in two halves, before and after the sermon on Good Friday. The score is further divided into three parts: a narrative using biblical text; various recicatives, arias and choruses; and the chorales. It’s music that is subject to the story and the demands of the people, the claps of thunder, sadness or fear or rejections of the apostles are all expressed clearly. I revelled in the big chorale sections and loved the several returns of the main choral theme, sometimes slower, sometimes livelier, usually with varying words. I enjoyed the dignified Evangelist as he told his story that I wished I could understand without looking at a projected translation, I loved the instrumental accompaniments with the solo singers: violin, cello, organ (I think this is the same chamber organ used by Igitur Nos last week), harpsichord, flutes or oboes. I enjoyed the autal and contrapuntal movements left to right of the choirs and also the orchestras. And it’s an impressive theatre. It looks to be carefully set up for sound, although perhaps for a bigger rather than a precise sound. And it’s pleasantly human in dimensions; it has a massive stage but you still feel close. (Too bad about the noisy aircon). From the orchestra, I particularly noticed the clarity of the two single basses, and that glorious little but persistent organ sound. This music is dignified and ordered, but more than instrumental Bach, it is subordinate to words. A stunning piece of beauty well performed. Congratulations to all involved.

The Llewellyn Choir and Llewellyn Sinfonia performed JS Bach’s St Matthew Passion at the Canberra Girls’Grammar School hall. Key performers were Rowan Harvey-Martin (conductor), Michael Martin (Evangelist, tenor), Stephen Barnett (Jesus, bass), Rebecca Collins (soprano), Christina Wilson (contralto), Rohan Thatcher (bass).

Reminder: turn your mobiles on

It was a thoughtful gesture. Conductor Nicholas Milton reminded the audience, before the Canberra Symphony Orchestra’s first concert of its annual series, to turn on their mobiles after the concert. Effective and wry. This is family, I thought, and we’re part, if only second cousins. Second cousins because we don’t attend every event, but like a family picnic, we enjoy it immensely when we get there. It’s a generous wing of the family that puts on this event. This concert had an overture (Beethoven’s Egmont overture), a concerto (Beethoven’s Piano concerto no. 3 in C minor Op.37) and a symphony (Tchaikovsky’s Pathetique Symphony No 6 in B minor Op.74). It’s like having a lamb spit and endless grog laid on. And the cousins all came along to this one. They are performing this concert on two nights but attendance was such that the Llewellyn had opened the dress circle.

It’s not a big orchestra, but the volume was loud enough when it needed to be. I thought the strings were a bit quiet against the rest but I actually enjoyed this: the flutes and bassoons and the rest were unusually clear in intent and tone, and the brass once had me jumping from my seat. The funding for our local orchestra is none too generous, so I can understand the limits on size. But I felt they did a grand job with these works. It was a popular program and I guessed not too tortuous, but they sounded great: fine time, fine intonation, fine interpretation. I found it impressive and eminently entertaining. The audience clapped between movements a few times, but I quite like that (clapping only at the end is a 20th century affectation). I like it when people express their involvement and it spurs on the performers. Nicholas dealt with cheers after the third movement of the Tchaikovsky really well. I think they were chuffed but the orchestra segued smoothly into the final movement with considerable ease and good will.

As for the music, that was great. Beethoven is passionate, but more importantly, he seems so unforced to my ears. I never feel he’s thrown ideas together; everything melds one line to another. It’s obvious why he’s so admired. The Egmont was loud and impressive and bombastic from the start. (As PlayerOfPiano says in a comment on YouTube: “Forget Metallica, Beethoven invented headbanging”). The 3rd piano concerto was satisfying, even if I sometimes lost detail in the piano lines. But all the flourishes of piano and the tonal contrast of a concerto are a pleasure. Gerard Willems was the pianist and he played it with ease, presumably as an old friend. And I’m liking the romantics more. Tchaikovsky was not so inevitable in composition as Beethoven, but I enjoyed numerous passages. The famous line in the first movement, of course, but also the waltz-like feel played strangely in 5/4 in the second movement that was sometimes dance-like, other times syncopated and a devil to count, the power and excitement of the penultimate movement and the forlorn feels throughout and especially in the final movement.

Lovely. I can only leave with a refreshing joy. Our local CSO is a little gem. The Canberra Symphony Orchestra performed Beethoven’s Egmont Overture, Beethoven’s Piano Concerto no. 3 in C minor Opus 37 and Tchaikovsky’s Symphony no. 6 in B minor (Pathetique) as the first concert of its 2012 season at the Llewelly Hall with Nicholas Milton (conductor) and Gerard Willems (piano).

Calm amongst frenzy

It was a big guitar night in Canberra, and I guess most guitarists were at the Satriani/Vai/Lukather gig. I love screaming guitars but I didn’t think my ears could take the onslaught or my mind the endless rock repetition, but I didn’t miss out on the guitar front with Song Fwaa. They were playing to a much smaller audience at the Loft, but I dare say the level of musical intellect could have been higher. This is not your standard jazz. My ear was first taken by David Reaston on an electric classical, (nylon-strung) guitar, a slab with wings and presumably a piezo pickup. It had an unusual amplified sound, a woody tone with lots of attack, made more unusual with various effects including an otherwordly Moog. He played with pick or with classical technique and a few times with e-bass style, but I was most taken by the rich chording, the concurrent bass and treble lines interspersed with chords, the ascending exercise-like arpeggios with extensions over the full neck (not easy!), and some oddly inventive ostinato lines that took a bass role. This was not jazzy, although structured often like jazz and with improvisation, but more classical in sensibility and instrumentation. I was later informed that he’d studied jazz then classical guitar and composition and it didn’t surprise at all. This was great technique and a very different sensibility and some very complex and intricate compositions.

I was also watching Jamie Cameron on drums. This is a bass-less band, and I noticed again the prominence of the thuddy kick drum at the bottom end. But also the open eyes that Jamie had for the others, and the way he followed and spoke in unison with both David and Martin Kay on alto sax, sometimes to state some contorted melody, sometimes to slap in unison, sometimes launching into a solo against a band ostinato (on the final tune - some things never change), sometimes just deliciously feeding off a solo. Lovely drumming that spoke the tunes rather than laying out a groove, and drumming of considerable dynamic range of loud slapped toms or open spaces.

It was only at the end that I moved my attention to Martin on alto. He’d introduced the tunes with a literate angular wit that had us all chuckling. (I never saw the Fantastic Terrific Munkle, one of his earlier projects, but I’d heard the CD and I’d enjoyed their humour and iconoclasm immensely). His alto was again not jazz-trained. The lines were often scalar snippets moved modally or through keys, fast and accurately formed with skilled technique, coloured with breaths and key slaps and the like. His training, too, was classical and it was evident in his conception and performance.

How else did the band show classical training? Intricate compositions and good reading and references to Ligeti and Cage. A series of tunes were called Tacit studies. They were highly truncated snippets of melody that the band read and played in unison - stunning for long silences and intense, rapid-fire fills. Ligeti made an appearance with his goat. There were a series of extended epic settings of tragic, heroic animal stories: Ligeti’s goat taken into space by Haile Salassie and returned to Earth; the happy song of recovered polar bear (until he was shot); the seven times cloned animal interpreted as loops. There were two covers, too, one of Scott Joplin’s Maple leaf rag and another of Tina Turner’s What’s love got to do with it, but the interpretations were very well coloured and disguised. John Cage made his appearance in Cage the Gaoler that responded to conservative reaction to Cage’s music. Whether these were all stories on the night or not, I don’t know, but this was ironic and fun as well as being musically challenging and inventive. I liked it, I wondered on it, I revelled in the technical skills, but I could well imagine it to be too demanding for some who might not return for a second set.

Song Fwaa (=Sangue froid, Fr. Cold blooded) comprise Martin Kay (alto sax), David Reaston (guitar) and Jamie Cameron (drums). They played at the Loft.

Cyberhalides Jazz Photos by Brian Stewart

Announcing a virgin birth

It’s coming on to Easter and there are choral concerts a plenty. This one was Igitur nos performing music on the Annunciation. In these post-religious times I should explain. The Annunciation is the announcement by angel Gabriel to Mary that she would conceive and become the mother of Jesus the Son of God, third person of the Trinity, by a virgin birth. It’s a strange story when you think on it (and who’d believe it from a teenaged daughter?), but thems were different times. This is the music of believers, from an era when all believed and shared a common belief, a time when they built monuments to this belief, the great cathedrals (and the sanctification of god-given monarchical power). And despite this being music of deep belief, it was also the business of the time: glorious, otherworldly, heart rending music fit for European stone and reverberant spaces that people earned their living from. Despite the all-too-human business of it, the sacred choral tradition is a thing of beauty even for non-believers.

I loved this concert for the sounds of soaring soprano, the interplay of counterpoint, the malleable male voices, the beauty of a few intoned strings. Igitur Nos is a very capable group. There were some times I felt uncomfortable with intonation or harshness of voice or string, but I only mention this because they were so few. From the first powerful words of Gorecki’s Totus tuus through Byrd and Pergolesi and names lesser known to me, this was rich and symbolic and well performed. The feature works were selections from Pergolesi’s Stabat Mater and Durante’s Magnificat. The Stabat Mater featured soprano Sarahlouise Owens and mezzo-soprano Rebecca Carmichael with mingling and interlaced voices singing the tragic loss of Mary at the cross. It’s beautiful but intensely sad. I particularly enjoyed the exaltation of the Magnificat. A friend of conductor Matthew Stuckings wished to use it for her wedding. I could understand. This was soaring, joyous, annimated music. Sarahlouise and Rebecca performed as a pair, as did Jonathan McFeat and Peter Laurence at other times. The Gorecki was a powerful and unexpected introduction of forte block chords for all voices then a wash of deeply emotional murmurings on a Marian theme. JS Bach made an appearance with the Sinfonia from Cantata BWV169 featuring a locally made chamber organ and chamber orchestra. This was typically flowing, jaunty melody and a total joy. Otherwise, there was Elizabethan and chants right up to modern. A wonderfully intimate program well performed in an apt environment of stone and timber. Soul stirring and much enjoyed.

Igitur nos performed with a chamber orchestra and organ at All Saints Anglican Church, Ainslie. Matthew Stuckings conducted. Featured singers were Sarahlouise Owens, Rebecca Carmichael, Jonathan McFeat and Peter Laurence. Terry Norman played the chamber organ constructed locally by Trevor Bunning and Roger Jones.

From the pumpkin patch

It’s a brave soul who will demean a gardener’s pumpkin patch, so it was quite an honour that the host had cleared it out for the band to have a spot to play. So was the story recounted. We were standing on cement; I think pumpkins have runners. Goss4 was playing a gig in a back yard in Yarralumla. It was a Garden Party and all were dressed appropriately. I wish I had pics of some of the women in flapper attire. It was a luscious and playful era and the 20/30-something dressers were dashing and attractive – men and women. It’s nice to see the generations. This was a 30th birthday and I reckon there were 4 generations present. The band dressed too, but we can only be so grand. Here’s a pic. Nice playing, though, and nice wine, nice company and surprisingly nice weather. Much enjoyed.

Uke beauty!

Text by Jason Lee; pics with permission by Stephen Taylor

When the ukulele is mentioned, one does not immediately think of jazz. Perhaps George Formby and his 1940s British music hall stylings come to mind, a la 'When I'm Cleaning Windows'. Perhaps Tiny Tim's 'Tiptoe Through the Tulips' come to mind. Younger people might recall Israel Kamakawiwo'ole's 'What a Wonderful World'/'Over the Rainbow' medley, Train's 'Hey, Soul Sister', or the rash of YouTube covers of Jason Mraz's 'I'm Yours' played on the ukulele. In this age of internet video, surely you would have come across Jake Shimabukuro's uke version of 'While My Guitar Gently Weeps'?

But I'm getting off track. I am, after all, talking about jazz. In the ukulele's history, it does have a connection. The little chordophone's first boom period was the 1920s Jazz Age, when many of the Tin Pan Alley tunes of the American Songbook were written. Of course, many of these were "Hapa Haole" (half-white) tunes with pseudo-Hawaiian lyrics.

Look, I'm getting off track again. Let's get back to talking about jazz. There have been a few players who have used the ukulele primarily to play jazz. Some names to mention are Lyle Ritz, Herb Ohta, Benny Chong and even Australia's own Azo Bell. Hmmm... I mentioned Benny Chong...

A week ago, I came back from Melbourne after four nights of ukulele excess: The Melbourne Ukulele Festival. Among the many and varied acts of the festival, from all over the world, from all sorts of genres, one stood out head over heels for me: Benny Chong.

He came on as the second last act of Saturday night, starting off with two pieces that he played solo. From the first note, one could sense a change in mood in the audience, with the "oohs" and "aahs" and stifled bits of applause, as Benny in his understated way brought out sound after sound after sound after amazing sound. This was not, by all means, a jazz audience, and they were frankly being blown away by what Benny was doing. When he started playing his ukulele in thumb position, in the manner of a bassist/cellist, the excitement in the room notched up another level... I've seen many ukulele players and he is the only one I know who plays in thumb position, pulling out intervals about two octaves wide. This was probably the first time many in the audience had experienced, rapid-fire chord-melodies, in extensions and substitutions waaaayyy beyond common triads; the first time they had their ears assaulted, nay treated, with live melodic sounds of the bebop, diminished, lydian dominant, diminished-whole-tone kind.

Then he introduced the audience to bassist Ben Robertson. You dear reader, would probably know who Ben Robertson is, but I don't think many of the audience did. I certainly didn't. They proceeded to play through standards like 'The Nearness of You', 'My Romance', 'I Remember April' (with a quote from 'Tequila' for good measure), 'Cherokee' and 'Cheek to Cheek'. You talk about cranking the dial to eleven. This was to twenty and beyond. The night was about cutting one notch after another above what had just been cut a moment ago. As Ben and Benny traded solos, you could tell that they were really enjoying themselves and cooking. They audience was j**zing itself. I know I was. It was multiple audio orgasm for me. My non-jazz-fan mate sitting next to me was laughing at me, saying "Hey man! I've never seen you this excited before at a gig..."

When Benny and Ben finished their all too short set, the applause was wild! A standing ovation that was very rare throughout the whole festival. Even though they were running over time, Benny was the gentleman and explained that there was an act to follow... But Ben and Benny gave us an encore... again, thrilling the audience.

When the MC came on, he raved on about how Benny and Ben had just met five minutes before the gig.

Anyway, Benny happens to have a sister in Canberra. And Benny happens to be staying in Canberra till mid April before he returns to Hawaii. And Benny will be playing a very cheap last-minute gig at the Front Gallery and Cafe in Lyneham on Sunday the 1st of April, 7pm. $10 cover charge. Children under 12 free.

He played the Vanguard in Sydney with Craig Scott, Chair of jazz at the Sydney Con before Melbourne and apparently got rave reviews there too. Don't miss Benny in Canberra!

The joy of buses

It was a day at work at Woden, but a quick trip on the frequent Blue Rapid bus got me to Civic and a percussion concert with Ensemble Evolution, DRUMatiX and, unexpectedly, Kor Phai, a Thai ensemble visiting ANU for a Thai music festival at Llewellyn Hall. How fabulous is this? International percussionists for an intimate and free lunchtime concert.

Ensemble Evolution is a trio based in Piteå, Sweden, but they are eminently international. Charles Martin is a Canberra local, trained at the ANU; Maria Finkelmeier and Jacob Remington are from the US. The trio performed their Solstormen program on marimba, vibraphone, electronics, cymbals and other percussion. This was three works, joined as a medley, each composed by a different performer. Charles presented Taxi to Kalifax that records the long taxi journey to the nearest airport; Maria presented Dancing Lights drawing on the Aurora Borealis; Jacob provided Seven Forty-One describing lengthy band rehearsals over long, arctic nights. Surprisingly, I could hear the representations in each tune. The Taxi was groove-based and rolling and lively with what sounded to be jazz-like improvisations over a repeating chord structure. The Lights were meditative, mystical, gently polyrhythmic and rich with tones like swelling cymbals and bowed metals. The band practices were endless and repeating, sometimes quiet and slow and searching, other times excited and confident. All spot on. The sounds were the thud of timber from the marimba, then ringing metal of the vibes, the crashes of cymbals and the drone of electronics. Attractive and so accessible that I wondered if it was radio-ready.

DRUMatiX joined Ensemble Evolution for a larger-scale piece that was less detailed in its composition, more flowing and less unexpected in arrangements, and obviously bigger in instrumentation. I thought I heard solos here too, along with richly busy rhythms which decayed to a tonal rubato that changed tone when Thai musicians cruised on stage and joined in with their Asian sensibility.

The sound changed mightily when the Thai Korphai Ensemble took over. Their name means “bunch of bamboo” and they play traditional Thai (piphat) percussion music. Korphai dates from the 1980s and is led by musical director Anant Narkkong, professor of ethnomusicology and composition at Silpakorn University, Thailand. This is Asian tonality. It’s strange to my ears; reminiscent of gamelan but not the same. It’s a ringing sound that seems to jiggle to my ears, as if it’s indefinite in pitch, but it’s most likely just non-tempered, non-European scales. But the whole conception is different from the West. This is not harmonic but melodic. Most of this melody is from tuned percussion, although there was also what seemed to be a short, stubby oboe, wooden with double reeds. The rhythms are simple and clear and unadorned and were layered with four-on-the-floor drums and regular sixteenth in melody. The pitch is high and bell-like, with just drums to offer a low end. And surprisingly, there were dancers that added to the pleasure and humanity of it all: a woman and a man, all bent limbs and splayed hands and a delightful sense of balance, dancing an obvious story of romance. Bodies flexible and arched and sensual like those famous ones from Hindu temples. Strange and uncommon to our senses but very beautiful in person.

So as the musicians took the bows, then relaxed into playing each others’ instruments and an on-stage workshop, I took my bus back to work, enlivened by an international melange of percussion and driven by my trusty bus driver. How I like buses! Ensemble Evolution comprise percussionists Charles Martin, Maria Finkelmeier and Jacob Remington. The DRUMatiX percussion group comprise Stephen Fitzgerald, Veronica Walshaw, William Jackson, Yvonne Lam, Bryce Leske, Bart Haddock, Jonathan Griffiths and are led by Artistic Director Gary France. Kor Phai is led by director Anant Narkkong.