New to me

Contrafact was a new one on me, but it's there, in Wikipedia. It's a new melody over existing chords, a common compositional technique in bop because melodies are copyrightable but chord sequences aren't. I'd never hear the term, contrafact. Alex Raupach introduced it for a few tunes at his gig at Smiths, with Steve Barry, Alex Boneham and Mark Sutton. This was one great band. Again a winner. Alex is playing with much maturity with unrushed lines, often extended, nicely structured and unpretentious. Steve's lines can be like a column, unrelenting, long, hinting at quotes but not quite, with solos building from even but sparse, doubling time then doubling again, always logical, sequenced, neat but also intriguingly bent. Alex will be swinging or ostinato, mobile over the neck, low to high, wonderfully formed strong tones from a firm right hand technique (see that finger bent over a string, feeling the weight, taking the pressure) and solos that spelt out clear sax-like intervallic melody, not easy on the doghouse. Mark a powerhouse, driving, brushes, sticks or flipping the stick to mallet, attacking the fills or driving the rhythm. I often find I concentrate on one player ona night. Mark was that for this night, although I did take a few glances at the others. The music was not too practiced, but their skills and reading drove through it. They soon get the feel of the tune and the ability shines. They'd played a standards night at Hippo the night before; apparently this was loud. Smith's was more the concert performance, original music, contrafacts from Lee Konitz (Thing-In on the chords of All the things you are) and Alex R (Tower condition on Isfahan). Ron Carter's 81. A range of originals by Alex R, often melancholic, and one by Steve Barry, Sahara. Interestingly, a few references to poet Dorothy Parker "Some beautiful things, even in change, wondrously remain the same". Alex sang some lines against the final tune. It's an interesting expansion on instrumental jazz; I like it lots. An involving night with some wondrous playing and substantial tunes. Last visit was in February. I can only hope this becomes habit.

Alex Raupach (trumpet) led a quartet with Steve Barry (piano), Alex Boneham (bass) and Mark Sutton (drums) at Smiths.

Symphony or concerto?

This was another great success for the Canberra Symphony under Nicholas Milton. I wasn't so taken by the first half: Mozart Overture from Marriage of Figaro, a light and recognisable piece to start the night, and Beethoven 4th piano concerto with pianist Clemens Leske. I think I prefer symphonies to concerti: more democratic, more balanced and internally consistent, whereas a concerto, even with a 9' Steinway (which I presume they were using) is still unbalanced between solo instrument and the strength of even smaller orchestra, and essentially more an individualist, even competitive event. Maybe it suits the times. The Beethoven was all long chromatics and weighty left hand melody and the lines felt not so even and not too obviously resolved so this didn't so much appeal to me. Then interval, another wine and a return to Mahler Symphony no.1. The first notes were quiet and I wondered if this was indecisive. Not at all. Phrases were soon appearing, from different instruments, even from trumpets off stage, appearing then decaying. Hints. A passage of threat. Then busy, interacting, layered themes, pulling together for a joyous, outgoing, vibrant country fair. Flutes as birds; strings answering; single note harp tacking; deep slurred notes bowed on bass. Then on through layers of melody, and an explosion of percussion and horns and brass. This first movement was richly layered with a touch of rural idyll. The second movement was a strutting 3/4, a lone horn, into a smoother, seductive waltz, then a return to the strutting 3/4. The fourth movement started with a solo bass playing Frere Jacques (kid you not) then a canon through cellos, violas and the rest, melding in and out with another Yiddish-sounding folk song. Nicholas Milton is flailing; he's an effusive conductor, calling for dynamics that an orchestra of undemonstrative Australians is a bit loath to give him. I reckon he's good for the CSO; they could have a little more abandon. Then into the final movement, perhaps revisiting the first, explosive from the start, then through various rises and falls, of volume and intensity. Big with tubas and standing horns and timpani and brass; swingeing bass lines. I thought I judged the finale, but it came and went and came again. Perhaps for a first time, I followed the symphonic structure with some understanding, but I still don't know why the combinations of complex layers then that odd 3/4 second movement with the sandwiched waltz, then Frere Jacques and the folk tunes, then the complexity and energy of the finish. In such a big space, Mahler could have done with a larger orchestra and extra dynamics, but we loved this nonetheless. Very interesting and attractive and satisfying. The orchestra again did the night justice, Clemens Leske did an good job, the combination of works was impressive, even if I had a clear preference for the Mahler symphony, and Nicholas Milton was ever the fine host and vibrant leader. Congrats to our locals.

The Canberra Symphony Orchestra performed under Nicholas Milton (conductor) at Llewellyn Hall. Clemens Leske (piano) soloed in the concerto. The program was Mozart Overture from Marriage of Figaro, Beethoven Piano concerto no.4 and Mahler Symphony no.1.

Studio to stage

Blow sounded more like a recording than a live band. The horns merged into notes like brothers and the whole was unhurried, unfrantic, even though there was plenty of energy and action. Peter's sax had a tone that was full and he'd sit long on notes then respond with a simple line or a flourish, but never, ever out of place. His phrasing was a lesson in modernity. Ian's flugelhorn could blow like bop and it did sometimes, but it could also drop into rubato and verge on free. The era suited this, modern cum post-bop, some fairly obvious changes, some ostinato-based tunes, some standards of the era, You don't know what love is, Naima. I immensely enjoyed a Jobim tune, known as Double rainbow or Childrens' games or Chovendo na Roseira (it appears under all these names on YouTube). Also a final tune that was floored me with understated beauty, a floating rubato feel with closely felt melody played by the front line. I've never called anything spiritual here (too new age for me), but this was pretty darn close. The first set was more solid, post-bopish, ostinato bass; the second more open and perhaps adventurous. Their You don't know what love is started as a tenor ballad with a bridge of Coltrane swells, then moved to flugelhorn playing fleeting staccato against drums and piano. Bass entered and the band moved through various feels - swing, cacophony, rubato, double time swing, some latin comping and more - finally into a final piano solo of octaves and another cacophony. All right on the night, I expect. All very comfortable but musically daring. Ian explained he had played with James for 25 years, sleeping on floors, playing daily for hours. Ted and Bob had played together longer. Our Canberra intern, Gareth, is the newbie but was neat and evenly solid toned and often unobtrusive and modally exploratory in solos. Ted's drums were deceptive; open your eyes and they seem unspectacular; close them and they sometimes writhe, otherwise sit with intent. Bob's piano was probably the most bubbling, irrepressible instrument on the stage, not so much with comping, which was wonderfully rich in colour and modal movement, but more in solos or some single note backings that were as much concurrent soloing played busy and mobile. I liked this band. It's an era I love and I could close my eyes and it sat with studio-like discipline but also artistic intrigue. It takes years to sound this comfy. These guys had it.

Blow are a Melbourne institution. Ted Vining (drums) leads with Bob Sedergreen (piano), Peter Harper (tenor), Ian Dixon (flugelhorn) and Gareth Hill (bass).

Beware the memory hole

It was in everyone's school bags when I went to school and it was about Stalinism, not about our world, but there's something in common and we're talking of it now. We've been talking of Orwell for decades and he's claimed by right and left. We'd seen this very company, shake & stir theatre co., doing Animal Farm sometime last year. We caught them last Saturday with 1984. It was not an easy night. The performance was without interval. The story was close to what I remember. Room 101 and the prior torture were excruciating. The love scenes were hopeful. The perverted response of one character whose 7-yo daughter had dobbed him in for thoughtcrime (supposedly talking in his sleep, "Down with Big Brother") was agonising. He could only agree that thoughtcrime comes uninvited. And we shivered with the commitment of youth who will dob in a dad for an ideology. An imposed ideology at that. There are warnings here, of course, for all manner of politics. Memory as the basis of truth, and how it can be manipulated. Think our constrained media and our life of pleasurable immediacy. There's a line about wars that can't be won but must continue. The obvious recent case is the War on Terrorism that is without end, but Abbott said just in recent days (paraphrasing), that we can't win the War on Drugs but we can't cease it. No way do I think he's expressing tyranny, but the thinking is inherently Manichaeistic and dangerous; in Bush's words, with us or against us. How much are we influenced by Orwell: newspeak, thoughtcrime, doublethink, Big Brother, memory hole, Ministry of Truth, Room 101, unperson. The spin that is expressed in the label, Ministry of Love: we see it every day, even in the naming of legislation. The two-way telescreens that are everpresent are parallelled in our big data, surveillance-rich society. We haven't come to 1984, yet, but this is a parable of warning. It's frightening but worryingly familiar.

shake + stir theatre co was established in 2008; they are a youth theatre company; they tour with Australia Council assistance; they are convincing and the works I've seen have youthful intelligence and wariness. Long may that last. They are annually seen by an audience of 180,000. The cast were Bryan Probets (the central character, Winston Smith), Nelle Lee (Julia, his lover), David Whitney (O'Brien of the Inner Party) and Ross Balbuziente and Nick Skubij. Michael Futcher directed. This was a terrifying and uncomfortable night of premonitions and warnings.

This is CJBlog post no. 1200

Bush baroquing

It's strangely apt to go off to the bush to hear baroque. It's quiet and that seems right, although baroque towns would probably not have been quiet. Richard and Joan Milner have a suite of period instruments in their music room and are generous sponsors of concerts for charity. This one was Peter Hagen on harpsichord and a lovely little baroque organ with Jane Downer on baroque oboe and oboe d'amore. JS Bach was there, but also son CPE and students, Krebs and Homilius, and Homelius' student, Tag. It's interesting to hear the various composers and get some sense of change through their styles. Peter started with a Telemann Prelude, not on the program, in memory of the organ builder who had died recently. Telemann lived contemporaneously with Bach but this piece felt earlier, with single note lines in counterpoint on a lovely chamber organ. The tone was small and delicate, soft at the lower end and flut-ish above. Then Bach's Fantasia Jesu, meine freude, with long oboe notes over more chordal keyboard. Then two pieces by his student, Krebs, in the JS Bach tradition, but clearly lacking his brilliance to my ears. I liked Krebs' second piece, a chorale on Jesu, meine freude, which was again single note counterpoint. Homilius was another student of Bach's. His Sonata à oboe solo col basso in F major was longer and more complex, comprising four movements. Then CPE Bach's Fantasia for keyboard. Interestingly, it's in C# minor (an unfavourite key in this household). To me this was showy; played with heavy chords, whispy runs and pensive passages in response, overt emotions. Then JS Bach Trio in D minor BWV527 in 3 movements. Apparently CPE had said that music like this would forever be popular, but Beyoncé is more popular now; music always passes. Then two Krebs to finish with. Baroque is always a pleasure and we are hearing it increasingly on original instruments, paler but more intimate than their concert cousins. It's a lovely way to pass an afternoon in the bush, with young Aussie bush in the background and old European sounds in the foreground.

Austral Harmony are Jane Downer (baroque oboe, oboe d'amore) and Peter Hagen (harpsichord, baroque organ).

Catching up

Only a quick visit to M16 Artspace in Griffith. I remember this as the Griffith Library and before that it was Griffith Primary. Now it's a gallery with artists' studios and this was my first visit. It just shows you how much can go under the radar in a vibrant community. The event was an open day. Artists were in residence and displaying and chatting. There were coffees (of course) and sausage snags (superior: from Griffith Butcher) and local school bands. We caught Melissa Beowulf, portraitist, painter. Melissa has been hung in the Archibald shortlist and her painting of the White Mouse (Nancy Wake, New Zealand born, Sydney resident, served as an agent for the Brits in France during WW2, someone for whom you could seriously use words like courage and hero) is in the National Portrait Gallery collection. Also Thor Beowulf, bonsai expert and academic. Good to catch you both. (Di, sorry we missed you).

Bass indulgences

Andy Irvine was in town for a bass workshop for Warwick. These workshops are commercial events, of course, held at a store and telling good stories about whatever products, but they can be informative and they get you up close to a decent player. Andy Irvine is an experienced studio muso with an obvious pedigree as a working muso with chops and a range of styles under his belt. It's something I admire. And Warwick instruments are deserving of some good press. I came latish so ended up sitting front row, very close. Australian audiences tend to be quiet, so Andy ended talking lots but with a philosophy that I can only agree with. Here are some ideas. Musos are sometimes like horses with self-imposed blinders (thus limiting themselves - it's a great image). Respect traditions, know their strengths and play them right ("Do what it calls for"). Blues and country are often denigrated; it's hard to resist temptation but embrace simplicity, have discipline. True masters are master listeners. There's synergy in parts, so music requires compromise; it's a fine art of collaboration. Collaboration requires etiquette. It's a team sport and we can only effect out part ("Take care of our side of the street"). Every style has its own sophistication, is equally valid; what matters is to "feel the muse". Tone is available through technique, and these are dialects of the language (slap, thumb, fingers over neck, pickup, bridge, etc). And to end: Learn the rules, of course, but then break conventions ("rage against the machine") because that's how you get innovation. All good advice. I would have liked to heard him play more. He has big hands that pretty much smother a Warwick Thumb bass and he delivers great tone with slap and finger and thumbs nicely merging. And Warwick, of course. He mostly spoke of the factory. Son of Framus (that's interesting); located in East Germany; the importance of wood and some of the processes; the approach to Chinese build for the Rock bass series; interestingly, their respect for the environment. I didn't know that the bright yellow frets are bell bronze and it's very hard so long lasting. I also learnt about tigerstripe and black ebony for fingerboards and I can now recognise wenge. Also that they produce 80-100 basses per month in the German factory, so it's not a behemoth producer. All interesting and entertaining, at least for the collected bassists at the event.


Pic by Alec Coulson for Andy Irvine

What is it about geologists

What is it about geologists that makes them question climate change? It seems to me that about the only scientists who question cc seem to be geologists. I've mulled over this one. I suggest (my hypothesis) is that they know of great changes in climate over lengthy periods (6 billion years, I guess) so they don't see climate change as unusual. The problem is, though, that human kind has only been around a small part of that time, and civilisation is only dated at 10,000 years ago and climate change is very rapid and it may not suit humanity. Even if people are around, civilisation may not be. (Think: NYC has flooded already and it cost $60b; the floods in Qld cost $6b and a tax levy; when does this become uneconomic). See, I actually like civilisation. There have been a few that have come and gone (around the Euphrates; in the Americas; in SE Asia; once verdant Sahara), so it does happen. Now we're one big civilisation and climate is changing fast and the mechanism of greenhouse gasses has been known to science for 150 years or so, and we're at 400ppm and adding another couple each year, and 2 degrees warming (guessed to come at 450ppm) is a rough estimate of where runaway climate change could happen given various feedback loops (the ubiquitous "tipping points"), and we've got buckley's of staying within 2 degrees. And I'm pessimistic.

So, why did I bother to attend Matt Grudnoff of the Australia Institute talking about the Renewable Energy Target the other night at Politics in the Pub? Glutton for punishment? FWIW, here are a few points he made, if I got it right. RET was set at 45K kwh by 2020. RECs (Renewable Energy Certificates) were bought. They were popular (I thought, to what degree from subsidies?). RET was created by Howard in 2001 and was successful, perhaps too successful. Not as efficient as the carbon tax, but better than most other approaches. RET was initially supported by fossil fuel industries, but became unpopular when electricity use dropped due to reduced industrial use (GFC and industrial closures) and improved energy efficiency (buildings, appliances) thus threatened stranded assets (excuse me cutting out swathes of the argument). Most income from electricity is from wholesale prices that soar with peak demand (25% of profits come from 36 peak generation hours each year!) but peak demand was limited by strong generation by renewables (wind, solar) at peak times (aircon, etc). As for carbon tax and electricity prices, carbon tax makes up ~9% of electricity costs; ~55% is network costs. Existing power stations were build by government and sold off after depreciation, but building new generation capability is too costly for private industry when capital must be depreciated, or at least would make this electricity uncompetitive. And recent studies (in the paper last week) suggested downward pressure on electricity prices from renewables, given no input fuel (coal, gas) required and increasing efficiency with an expanding industry. There was more argument and it was pretty dry, if important. Whatever, it may all be crap like climate change is said to be. But I don't think so. I'm not so cocky as to think I should have an opinion on science. Science seems a pretty good tool to me. So, my thoughts? Be very, very worried.

Hey Shorty

Ah, that was fun. It was just a bit of jazz-funk-fusion. Locals Shorty and Chow were playing. But those 16th notes can enliven things and the funky beat on the one makes for so much energy that this playing was pretty relentless. They played originals, too. There were just a few standards (Alone together, Cissy strut, Softly as funk, Ladybird as swing for an unexpected encore) but these were mostly originals, by guitarist Luke or by bassist Barnaby. Barney was a monster with some solos, playing lightly with two finger pizz, plenty of chromatics and some impressive fast ascending picked slides and some massive descending lines that I guessed mixed chromaticism with seconds. Great fun. Luke was comfortable somewhere in Scofield with distortion and echo and often dropped into this sound, but just sometimes played straighter. I thought he was nicely contained and structured his solos well, changing tones, maintaining long eighth-note passages, perhaps going heavy with chords, often against drums. Jonathan plays pretty straight and swinging and driving drums and can build up a head of steam. He did this tonight for several solos, but also building very strongly behind guitar solos. Julian was more the individualist soloist, often restrained, slower, thoughtful as sax is, sometimes with a deep water bubbling tone, other times with a thinner, straighter alto voice, often venturing into interesting dissonances. Nice again. The final tune, Barnaby's Dancing with Gertrude was my favourite for the night and obviously a feature, laying out the melody in nice unison against odd timing, then strangely dropping tempo and speeding up again then playing a 16-th note funky feel in four for the solos. Luke's Suspension was quirky and busy unison lines for all parts, again 16-th notes and bass ostinato. Barney's From both sides was another ballad, this time with bass playing melody against swelling guitar chords. The other ballad was Luke's Terrace with guitar strumming that reminded me of 50s Hawaiian guitar. His Subtonic counted as a steady 7/4 with an angular melody, then into solos in three. So, local fusion with decent chops and some original themes. Good to see, and well enjoyed.

Shorty & Chow are Luke Greenhalgh (guitar), Barnaby Briggs (bass), Julian Fung (sax) and Jonathan Harding-Clark (drums).

Unexpected blues at Woden

Caught busking at Woden today. (Robert) Owen Campbell playing slide guitar and singing. I enjoyed the little I heard. This was satisfying blues, slide guitar, authentic confident voice, firm playing, strong sound and with some nice dissonance from Middle Eastern scales in the instrumentals. Owen is playing with his band at the Abbey in a few days. He's on tour promoting a new CD, but I guess he's a local. I've caught him before busking at Woden. Who would expect the blues at lunchtime in Woden? Sunshine but a cold breeze mid-week so the blues are not totally out of the question.

Naming a new ensemble

It's good to see the birth of any new ensemble. This one is the Foray Quintet and it's done it first tour with two piano quintets by Fauré. The lineup is piano with two violins, viola and cello; five women from a Canberra / Melbourne association. The name obviously refers to foray as in new undertaking and to Fauré, the composer who they played it on this tour. I'm told we can expect to hear other composers and other combinations, but these two works by Fauré were lovely: modern but with a melodic bent, attractive and thematic. Kimberley introduced the first work, Fauré Quintet no.1 D minor Op.89 with a few observations and associated musical samples. About how the first quintet is bright; the other darker and more complex. About how the accompaniment moves harmonically, how the passages "travel". I understood in diatonic chords rather than in single line phrasing. Kimberley suggested a jazz awareness. Also how the rhythmic movements were more "circular" than "square" as in marches. Again I thought jazz and swing, at least a softer feel. Strange, this, but the final movement of the Op.89 was almost the theme of Fly me to the moon with its falling, rising, falling phrase, starting initially with the pianistic simplicity of a music box. Felicité introduced the other work, Fauré Quintet no.2 C minor Op.115, with descriptive impressions: first movement period drama and obscure moments then Alice in Wonderland; second movement slow man running on beach; third movement dreamtime, end of a busy week, tired reflection that the "viola keeps in check"; fourth movement another musical reference, to the Game of Thrones theme, or perhaps the tango. We all have our own visualisations for music; it's interesting to hear someone else's. This was very beautiful, dignified music, nothing like the extremes that modernism was to develop to, lyrical and sweet but with honest straightforward connection. I was amused to see in the program that Fauré has been called the St Francis of music and was variously described as modest, timid, grateful, content. It's not flamboyant music but immediately comprehended for its with honesty and depth. This is just the second performance of the first tour, but the ensemble was comfortable and convincing and the music seemed well suited. A lovely outing and looking forward to another down the track.

Foray Quintet played two Fauré's Quintets. They comprised Kimberley Steele (piano), Elyane de Fontenay (violin), Felicité Heine (violin), Sarina con Walter (viola) and Anneliese McGee-Collett (cello).

What shape is that?

A felucca is a traditional wooden sailing boat, as seen on the Nile and Red Sea, distinguishable by its triangular lateen sail. Felucca (proper noun) is also the name of a contemporary jazz trio and I heard them the other night at Smiths. Not sure if I can see the connection but I enjoyed the music. The jazz Felucca was a sax trio with tenor sax and a distinctive aluminium strummed bass, sparse syncopated feels and long and intense crescendos. There's very little swing here, but this is the nature of current jazz. Abel's strummed bass was the identifiably different element, processed, metallic and ringing, strummed chords and pick. It was only very seldom that he played single notes and these were 4-to-the-floor rock feels that soon returned to syncopated strums. Drums were mostly acoustic and one tune started with a driving solo, but they, too, went digital when Paul processed through a drum machine, for deep echoes and stretched pitches. I liked this. New sounds, rock presence. Against this, a single tenor sax seemed simply toned, played without effects into a mic, but this was contemporary playing so nothing too obviously diatonic. The changes were rock-like, perhaps 4-bar phrases with a change each bar, but there was readiness to dissolve to free, or hold to a heavy psychedelia. It was mostly strong, driving playing, even if spacious, but there was gentleness, too, with some floating tunes of plectrum scrapes and heavily echoing bass and African rattles and pensive sax and cymbals. This is Sydney music, one band of many out of the JazzGroove stable, always interesting and probably performing too seldom. Contemporary jazz is a demanding form and not heavily attended, despite its obvious authenticity. A few aspects make this band new to my ears, especially the role of the bass, and so it is. There's a world of adventure in these combinations that visit us from Sydney. That's the nature of a developed jazz scene and Felucca is a comfortably inventive part of it.

Felucca are James Loughnan (tenor sax), Abel Cross (bass) and Paul Derricott (drums) and this is worthy invention with contemporary awareness and touched with some electronic freedom. Trangular, like the sails? Yeah, maybe, but the rhythms are square rigged.

A program for Easter and Anzac

The ANU Chamber Choir and Chamber Orchestra performed on stage at Llewellyn. I've done it before, but it's strange to join the performers on a massive stage and look out at 1330 empty seats. But nice. It's intimate, it seems acoustically quite live, boxed in by timber, and it's a decent sized space. This was a sellout, with performers and audience sitting on a flat surface, so sightlines were difficult, but so be it. There were two works on the program: Buxtehude and Haydn. Peter Tregear introduced them as selected for this Easter / Anzac week.

Firstly, Buxtehude's Membra Jesu nostri, a series of 7 cantatas each contemplating a part of Christ's dead body (feet, knees, hands, side, breast, heart and head). It's a strange concept, but this is early music, pre-Enlightenment. They thought differently then, and they were in touch with death. Buxtehude composed this in 1680 but to stanzas of a mediaeval hymn from a poem of the high mediaeval period. The ANU Chamber Choir comprised about 30 performers, with some members coming out to solo. They were accompanied by a small chamber orchestra of 2 x violin (or violin and viola?), 1 x viola da gamba (sometimes 2), cello and organ. Peter Tregear conducted. The strings were using baroque bows. It was sung in Latin. The programs had Latin text with English translation. I followed the text and found it rewarding, giving the meaning and worldview, but also making the counterpoint and baroque embellishments obvious. Body of Christ; I kept thinking of that ghostly Mantenga painting, Lamentation over the Dead Christ, that resides at the Brera in Milan. This was truly another era.

The second work of the night was performed by the ANU Chamber Orchestra with conductor David Irving. This is much larger orchestra but about half the size of the CSO (two basses) with a full suite of horns and brass and woodwinds and timpani using modern instruments. This was much closer is style to our era, being early modern, early classical. Peter introduced the work as immediately post-French Revolution, but it felt light and attractive and the program quoted Haydn's pleasure at its inaugural performance: "... packed audience ... I took in this evening 4,000 guilden. One can make as much as this only in England". Music for a market but lovely none-the-less. This was Op.104, London Symphony, the last of 12 symphonies he composed for visits to London. Four movements, attractive and lively, very pleasurable, just a touch of the idyll, sometimes danceable, often grand and joyous and wonderfully pretty. Again, nicely played and delightful music.

Thanks to Wikimedia Commons for the Mantegna

From where once was gold

As with all the blockbusters, Gold of the Incas was on the agenda for an early visit but we'd got to the last few days and it would be busy and we only went because a friend spoke so highly of it. It was very busy but it was also worth it. It was new to us but eye-opening and enjoyed even if it was a touch same-ish and a little doleful, given the collection was from burial remains. The displays were mostly art made from gold, silver, precious stones, textiles and ceramics. Each room displayed works of a Peruvian lost culture covering the 3,000 year period from ~1500BCE to the short-lived Incas in ~1500CE. The audio tour was the familiar voice of Phillip Adams. In the end, I gave that up and just took items at face value. What did I note? Lots of gold and beaten metal and some stone and shell in headdresses and crowns and nose and ear ornaments and pectorals. Some beautifully detailed weaving and embroidery in ruddy warm colours that would not be out of place now. The necklaces, too, would not be out of place on many modern necks. There were some delightful ceramics of animals, usually in the form of vessels. Most vessels were stirrup vessels, presumably named for the stirrup shape at top that would have been used as a carrying handle, and that was usually combined with a pouring lip. The images portrayed in these stirrup vessels were great joy. I was stunned by the realism of one male head (MOCHE culture North coast 100 – 800 AD, Portrait head stirrup vessel 100-800 AD ceramic); enjoyed the use of glazing in a feline vessel (MOCHE culture North coast 100 – 800 AD, Stirrup vessel in the form of a feline 100-800 AD ceramic); smiled at some animals (HUARI culture 600 – 1000 AD, Vessel in the form of a llama 600-1000 AD ceramic); smirked at some erotica (MOCHE culture North coast 100 – 800 AD, Stirrup vessel in the form of a couple under a blanket 100-800 AD ceramic); admired detailed and colourful fabrics (PARACAS culture South coast 700 BC – 200 AD; Mantle with flying figures 100 BC - 200 AD wool and cotton); treasured the necklaces (MOCHE culture North coast 100 – 800 AD, Necklace 100-800 AD gold, opal, quartz, emerald); laughed at the vegetable vessels (MOCHE culture North coast 100 – 800 AD, Stirrup vessel in the form of potatoes 100-800 AD ceramic); was amazed that they had deer and used platinum (VICÚS culture North coast 100 BC – 400 AD, Female figure, known as The Venus of Frías 200-600 AD gold and platinum); was confused by a oddly Greek-looking mask (MOCHE culture North coast 100 – 800 AD, Mask 100-800 AD copper, gold, shell, stone); and mused on the likely sound of the trumpet (MOCHE culture North coast 100 – 800 AD, Trumpet 100-800 AD ceramic). But perhaps the most surprising of all were the quipu (HUARI culture 600 – 1000 AD, Quipu 600-1000 AD cotton). I initially read them as strangely poor necklaces of knotted string, but the audio guide explained them as arithmetic records, perhaps for census or survey, where decimal numbers are recorded on groups of strings of different colours and placed knots. This was stunning. And then, of course, the reminders that this was a culture without the wheel, including for its ceramics. It was another world, a series of cultures over three millennia, and we can only touch on what was missed by European looting.

The exhibition, Gold of the Incas : lost worlds of Peru, was at the National Gallery of Australia and will have finished by the time you read this.

Gold of the Incas exhibition website

The images above, in order, are these. Thanks to Nick at NGA for permission to use these images.

MOCHE culture, North coast 100 – 800 AD, Portrait head stirrup vessel 100-800 AD, ceramic, Ministerio de Cultura del Perú: Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Antropología e Historia del Perú. Photograph: Daniel Giannoni

MOCHE culture, North coast 100 – 800 AD, Stirrup vessel in the form of a feline 100-800 AD, ceramic, Museo Larco, Lima. Photograph: Museo Larco

HUARI culture, 600 – 1000 AD, Vessel in the form of a llama 600-1000 AD, ceramic, Ministerio de Cultura del Perú: Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Antropología e Historia del Perú. Photograph: Daniel Giannoni

MOCHE culture, North coast 100 – 800 AD, Stirrup vessel in the form of a couple under a blanket 100-800 AD, ceramic, Museo Larco, Lima. Photograph: Daniel Giannoni

PARACAS culture, South coast 700 BC – 200 AD, Mantle with flying figures 100 BC - 200 AD, wool and cotton Ministerio de Cultura del Perú: Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Antropología e Historia del Perú. Photograph: Daniel Giannoni

MOCHE culture, North coast 100 – 800 AD, Necklace 100-800 AD, gold, opal, quartz, emerald, Museo Oro del Perú, Lima,. Photograph: Daniel Giannoni

MOCHE culture, North coast 100 – 800 AD, Stirrup vessel in the form of potatoes 100-800 AD, ceramic, Museo Larco, Lima. Photograph: Museo Larco

VICÚS culture, North coast 100 BC – 400 AD, Female figure, known as The Venus of Frías 200-600 AD, gold and platinum, Ministerio de Cultura del Perú: Sala de Oro del Museo Municipal Vicús, Piura. Photograph: Daniel Giannoni

MOCHE culture, North coast 100 – 800 AD, Mask 100-800 AD, copper, gold, shell, stone, Ministerio de Cultura del Perú: Museo de Sitio de Chan Chan, Dos Cabezas. Photograph: Daniel Giannoni

MOCHE culture, North coast 100 – 800 AD, Trumpet 100-800 AD. Ceramic. Museo Oro del Perú, Lima. Photograph: Daniel Giannoni

HUARI culture, 600 – 1000 AD, Quipu 600-1000 AD, cotton, Fundación Museo Amano, Lima. Photograph: Daniel Giannoni

Farewell

Simon Milman has hands in many pots. And it's not just that he's part of them. Someone mentioned to me at Simon's farewell event at Smith's that he will be missed, not just for his playing, but for his leadership. Simon's active; he creates things - music, combinations, events, lots of CDs - and these things range over a broad field. I've mostly caught him doing jazz things, in the jazz scene, but he's active with the Canberra Musicians Club, which is more indie and JJJ, in Afrobeat and Latin and more. I first caught him playing Ornette on acoustic bass guitar in a trio. His playing is well influenced by these sounds, so his standards take on a sophisticated, harmonically indistinct flavour. But he also plays I-V in its place, and there was a bit of apt simplicity in his playing with Nick Combe's Nonet at the farewell event. There was some of the free improv too, in a short appearance as Erebis ("Australia's number one [Japanese] free improvising Elvis"). He introduced Properties of two particles with a bowed first particle lasting 1m8s and a pizz second particle lasting 47s; micro, virtually subatomic. I missed a gig where Erebis performed macro, apparently playing an hour with Miro Bukovsky. FWIW, I preferred the second particle with some harmonic movement, but mainly diatonic with large intervals. Nice. Erebis was followed by obviously close friend Alice Cottee, voice and guitar on some interestingly constructed songs of passion and intriguingly revealing metaphors. She spoke of meetings of creatives and this fitted the part: both fascinating and, I can only guess, searingly honest. It's so often the woman with the guitar who does just this for personal matters. Then some jazz that's close to my heart: Nick Combe's nonet playing five of Nick's charts. Bluesy and Mingus-inspired; five horns out front for plenty of interesting solos and the interplay of solo and accompaniment and the enhanced richness of melodic statements. Quite blissful to my ears. They played a slower break-up song; a lighter 8-to-the-bar song of joy and running in parks; one of rolling arpeggios speaking to a poem by TS Elliot; a quieter one called Shoosh (perhaps Shh...); a final upstart blues stated last time around with charted dissonance. The solos were intelligent and searching throughout which is also a tribute to Nick's charts. Then another SM alter-ego: Coolio Desgracias appearing with Housemouse. Local rap in kimono: driving in Queanbeyan, jazz clap, local themes. Amusing, clever, rhythmically insinuating and neat with triplets, although this seemed a pretty casual performance for friends with a degree of laxity. Rap's somewhat a return to memorised epics, so it has unexpected traditional roots amongst its irony and quips. Much enjoyed. I didn't stay for the later DJ set. Simon will be much missed by wide span of the Canberra musical community but movement is life. Best of luck to Simon but he's a local, so he'll be seen again.

Simon Milman performed Erebis (bass). Alice Cottee performed solo (vocal, guitar). Nick Combe (baritone sax, compositions) led a nonet with Tom Fell (tenor), Josh Hart (trombone), Alex Raupach (trumpet), Eddie Bernasconi (trumpet), Matt Lustri (guitar), Damien Slingsby (piano), Simon Milman (bass) and Aidan Lowe (drums). Simon Milman (Coolio Desgracias) and Matt Lustri (Housemouse) rapped.