Freddie's World

Moscow’s White-collar Fight Club

2010-08-18T10:00:00.000+04:00

While you won’t see Brad Pitt getting a bloody nose from some anonymous office face with chronic insomnia, Moscow’s new October Boxing Club hints at a similar concept.

As with many imported cultural trends from the West, white-collar boxing has made a belated arrival in Russia. Playing on an idea that emerged in New York during the 1990s, the club aims to provide relief for those who spend too much time in a pent-up working environment. It’s a way both to get fit and express unreleased emotion in the ring.

“Our target audience is higher-income men starting around age 35,” states the club’s owner Elena Malova, a petite blondinka who looks like the last person you’d expect to meet in such an establishment. “Our first members are from many different spheres – bankers, TV personalities, designers, PR managers…”

“But people who want brutal boxing go to other clubs,” adds sporting director Yury Koptsev. “Here the atmosphere should be calm and friendly – more about people who want to do sport for fitness than boxing in itself.”

Parched pink brickwork surrounds shiny new punchbags and running machines on the club’s premises at the old Red October chocolate factory, a riverside swathe of premium real estate with views of the Kremlin. Any lingering sweet aromas have been displaced by salty sweat and the rubbery, painty smell of corporate fraîcheur.

“Three other gyms have opened recently in Moscow, but they’re definitely not as cool as this place – they’ve got no gear, no girls and no coaches,” says Malova’s daughter Evgeniya Kuyda, an editor at Afisha magazine. “There are a few other clubs as well, but they’re just for pros and the conditions aren’t very nice.”

With 80 members and counting after just two months, the niche appears to be there. Sergey Povarnitsyn, a mysterious social philosopher with a dapper English accent, thinks it was October’s classy décor and appeal to a “bohemian system of values” that won him over. And although big earners are rather more frugal than in the wild 1990s or the booming 2000s, Moscow will always be home to a certain number of people with cash to burn.

“Every boy wants to fight just like every girl wants to dance,” concludes the owner, Malova, when asked why people choose to take up boxing – which ranks behind several other sports in Russian popular culture. Opening it up to new segments of society may well turn out to be a fruitful enterprise.

Published @ Russia! magazine, 18/8/10 – click here for original.

Hazmat Modine // Wade Schuman

2010-07-08T20:30:00.001+04:00

Wagner Park, NYC, 8/7/10
www.hazmatmodine.com

Chisinau: the real media revolution is underway

2010-06-25T22:00:00.000+04:00

In April last year, Moldova made international headlines when its exotically-titled “Twitter Revolution” triggered an election rerun, toppling the Communist party from power after eight long years. Reports that the popular micro-blogging site had been used to gather thousands of activists, protesting electoral injustice, were soon proved inaccurate. However it did precede a genuine revolution in more traditional media in the landlocked eastern European country.

“Twitter wasn’t really used to organise protests, but it acted as a vital source for foreign journalists to find out what was going on,” explains Mihai Moscovici, a marketing manager whose own account served as a key information conduit. “But the events brought Moldova to the front of the infosphere in eastern Europe, and one could even say a real media revolution is happening right now.”

A liberal, pro-democracy coalition – the Alliance for European Integration – has been in government since the second ‘post-revolution’ vote. Despite an ongoing constitutional crisis over presidential elections, lifting the previous regime’s information monopoly and reviving free speech have been immediate priorities.

On a sprawling compound in suburban Chisinau, the evidence is impressive. At the headquarters of Publika TV, blue neon corridors lead to a space-age, open-plan newsroom/studio area lined with plasma screens. A young team of top journalistic talent has been assembled. The channel, funded by €4.5 million from Romanian investors, launched on April 7, 2010 – exactly one year after the chaotic political upheaval.

“This kind of project simply would not have been possible under the Communists,” says Natalia Morari, a journalist and activist who hosts Publika’s main political talk show. While living in Moscow, her investigative reports earned a place in the Kremlin’s bad books, and it was a youth organisation she founded – ThinkMoldova – whose peaceful rally sparked the unrest in 2009.

“Our whole media landscape has changed dramatically,” Morari continues. “As a journalist I feel more free. From the point of view of consumers, it’s a very good thing, but there’s a risk we could repeat the situation of Russia in the 1990s – when people woke up in a country where they had lots of freedoms, and they didn’t know what to do.”

The new atmosphere of openness has caused confusion: “People are surprised to see our channel criticising the new government,” says the presenter. “They thought we would become its weapon and be good to the coalition, but it’s our job to be tough with everyone – communists, liberals or democrats. For our media market this is something completely new.”

Other positive steps include a management overhaul of the state broadcaster, number one source of information for the general public. Internet access is spreading as broadband becomes affordable, while the IT sector is being actively developed. And another 24-hour news station, Jurnal TV, was opened shortly before Publika.

However, there is a lingering danger this could all vanish as quickly as it appeared. Early parliamentary polls will take place in November – along with a referendum on direct presidential elections – aimed at resolving the political stalemate. The ruling Alliance’s ratings are neck and neck with the Communist party. While another coalition remains the likely outcome, no one would rule out a surprise.

Published @ Monocle.com, 25/6/10 - click here for original.

In Sergiev Posad

2010-05-30T13:00:00.000+04:00

Chaotic justice – a therapeutic election post-mortem

2010-05-07T21:00:00.001+04:00

After a long day of attempting to simultaneously translate a chronology of the Soviet art world while taking in the BBC’s excellent election coverage at the corner of my screen, I felt the need to release a few thoughts into some kind of vaguely coherent shape.

First of all, this election – mangled and muddy as the results may be – seems to me to genuinely reflect the UK’s public mood and general attitude towards politics at the moment. The current state of total chaos seems almost bizarrely dictated by a flawed yet viciously accurate brand of twisted logic. Is it poetic justice?

Major misgivings regarding both main parties have played out. People were tired of the government, but the opposition didn’t seal the deal. Despite gaining momentum towards the end of the official campaign, the Tories didn’t do a good enough long-term job of promoting themselves as serious contenders. Questions always remained. For months (and even years) on end, they failed to come up with any substantial policies. No amount of glossy PR could hide this lack of substance.

The Liberal Democrats’ recent poll numbers turn out to have flattered them, as people retreated into the arms of their familiar old flames, the Conservative and Labour parties. As much as I wanted it to, this underlying conservative (small c) mentality does not surprise me in the slightest.

While most people on a London bus would not have recognised Nick Clegg before the TV debates, they would even now be equally hard-pressed to name any senior Tory apart from David Cameron. The party is a one-man-band. Why? Because, despite all Dave’s talk of change and a new Conservative image, he never managed to escape haunting accusations of the “Same Old Tories”.

He may have acted quickly on the expenses scandal and purged several heinous MPs, but this makeover is only skin-deep. The Ashcroft affair, Chris Grayling’s comments on homosexual B&B clientele and Philippa Stroud’s religious loony revelation all tainted the polished, cleaned-up aura that Cameron wanted to radiate. There was also this small incident of ethical and procedural violation on the Commons floor.

For all his efforts to present himself in a leader’s light today – and Tory talk of higher seat gains than Thatcher – Cameron has ultimately failed. He has not delivered a majority. He has not decisively defeated a Labour government crocked from 13 years in power, battered by the expenses scandal and led by a man better suited to backroom policy-making than public relations.

To me, the whole bigotgate incident (finely documented here) was almost more shocking for Gordon Brown’s sheer lack of charisma in his original encounter with Mrs Duffy. He stands there, looking down on her, pointing a finger like he’s been insulted and talking in a technocratic, statistic-riddled monotone which made me cringe. Perhaps here, tucked away in Moscow, it’s easy to forget just how un-engaging the Prime Minister really is.

Nick Clegg has indeed emerged as a key figure – but not as triumphantly as so many hoped. Rather than raising their share towards a century of seats, the Lib Dems ended up with fewer MPs. Great expectations have not materialised.

However, Clegg certainly succeeded in energising the campaign. His first two debate performances were a typhoon of fresh air which looked like it could sweep away all the dust and cobwebs as it roared into the House of Commons. But in his third clash with Brown and Cameron, he almost started to sound just like the broken-record rhetoric he’d previously railed against so effectively.

Despite this clearly unrealised potential, the Lib Dem leader is destined to be a mere footnote in history if he fails to use his position to instigate real systemic change. He needs every modicum of the wit and guile displayed during the debates to somehow tease out a transformation of our crippled voting system.

Cameron’s electoral reform “committee” is a no go. Clegg must not relent in his pursuit of proportional representation, no matter how many small concessions are thrown at him. Britain’s archaic system must be brought into the 21st century – especially if the country wants to maintain its reputation as a shining beacon of democracy. Speaking of which, the fact that hundreds of people were denied their right to vote by inefficient administration is simply criminal.

We can only hope the Lib Dems, now presented with the first glimpse of genuine clout in many of their political careers, will not sell out their core values for a shot at power. They need to find the right balance between standing by their goals and acting in the national interest.

Make Dave sweat a little, but not for too long.

Terror Reflections

2010-04-05T22:00:00.000+04:00

Monday, March 29 was just the start of another working week in Moscow. Huge crowds of people descended into the metro system – a rumbling, winding maze of tunnels, walkways and escalators.

Within a single hour, two suicide bombers struck at the heart of the Russian capital. Blasts shook key stations on the busy red line, which dissects the centre of the city – first at Lubyanka, home of the FSB (formerly KGB), and then Park Kultury, a ten-minute ride to the south.

By mid-afternoon, everything at Park Kultury appeared to be calm. Police were out in force, but many were smoking or chatting idly on their mobile phones. Ambulances were gathered around the vestibule connecting the red line to street level (above), but the station’s main entrance across the road was open. A small group of photographers, TV cameras and general bystanders clustered behind the barriers.

Within hours the system was back up and running, but anxiety afflicted commuters. Moscow’s central ring road, the Sadovoe Koltso (Garden Ring), was suffering traffic levels even more brutal than usual; the photo below was taken on March 30. Rush-hour congestion is serious even in normal circumstances, but an infectious sense of paranoia had exacerbated the situation. The emergency services were on high alert – police and ambulance sirens seemed to be squealing past my bedroom window every five minutes.

March 30 was declared a day of national mourning. The next evening, down on the platform, a mass of flowers, candles and condolences had been building up (below). A constantly shifting flow of people stood in silence, gazing blankly at the temporary shrine almost in disbelief.

While terrorism and militant attacks are nothing new to the country, more than six years had passed since the last such act in Moscow. A typically Russian sense of steely resolve and determination to soldier on was tempered by grief and residual shock – pretty much every person would pause to stand and stare before continuing their journeys.

Similar scenes awaited at Lubyanka station (below), which was first to be hit on Monday morning. Many believe it was targeted for symbolic significance – the infamous Soviet-era KGB had its headquarters here – and the area lies within walking distance of the Kremlin itself.

The same evening, a remembrance gathering was held on Lubyanka square. Thousands of people attended the wake, but a couple of hours later the place was virtually deserted. Forsaken. Three policemen watched over a sea of candles.

The bombers took 40 lives, wrecking many more, and dozens remain in hospital. Chechen resistance leader Doku Umarov has claimed responsibility, promising this will not be the last attack on the Russian heartland in a video statement posted on YouTube.

The Guardian reports that the Moscow strikes came in response to civilian killings in a February counter-insurgency operation.

On March 31, suicide blasts caused 12 more deaths in Dagestan – a republic neighbouring Chechnya in the troubled North Caucasus. In these regions, far from the westernised, developed side of Russia, such incidents are part of everyday life.

As the Caucasus conflict now looks certain to intensify, we can only hope Moscow will not be a main battleground.

Christian Scott: Breaking Boundaries, Crossing Lines

2010-03-09T10:00:00.000+03:00

Christian Scott is lounging on a black leather couch, easy and relaxed before taking to the stage at a Moscow jazz club. The cold, gloomy Russian capital hosted the New Orleans trumpeter's quintet for a trio of gigs in February 2009--including a show at the US ambassador's cushy residence, in front of an elite audience of officials, dignitaries and this scruffy freelance journalist.

Diplomatic functions do not represent a major part of the group's touring schedule. Maybe Scott was a slightly surprising choice for such an event: on the same evening, it was Russian saxophonist Igor Butman's tight big band which produced a sound more reminiscent of what might, on foreign shores, be expected from the stock phrase "American jazz."

Puzzled faces were certainly in evidence, but it is a tribute to the music's chameleonic quality that by the end of a short set, appreciation was unanimous. "We've been lucky enough not to have a demographic," Scott explains. "We've played concerts where they'll have 70-year-old blue-haired ladies, or young teenagers. We've played for audiences of kids with Mohawks and black nails, right through to people who are just into hip-hop and gold teeth and all that type of stuff. It ties into the concept: the music is for everyone."

Musical Origins

Scott has enjoyed a privileged rite of passage into the jazz world. "I started playing trumpet when I was 11. I'd been around music my entire life; my mother was a classical bassoonist, and my uncle is the saxophonist Donald Harrison. So I decided I wanted to play jazz, and I asked Donald if he would teach me, if I could be his protégé. He took me under his wing and let me live with him for a year-and-a-half, and after that, I guess he thought I was good enough to go on the road and start playing. So when I was 13 or 14 I started to tour internationally."

This is clearly the source for a deep well of self-belief. Asked if it was tough to compete with the vast number of musicians coming out of New Orleans and the wider USA, Scott's answer displays unflinching confidence: "No. I know this sounds strange but I think part of it is that I was very fortunate to have my uncle at a young age. Most of the things kids were trying to figure out, I had already learned from being on the bandstand.

"It's like basketball. If you're 12 and you play basketball with 12-year-olds, you're going to play on a 12-13-year-old level. But if you play with 25-year-old men, you're going to understand different things that kids don't know. Kids play basketball and they're just playing the sport, but 25-year-old men know that basketball is really trigonometry--it's angles. You have to know the triangle offense, the zone defense, you know there are angles in the way your body pivots; there are all these different things, but a kid doesn't know the science of it. So when I was growing up, I was always sort of ahead of the curve: my friends would be learning their scales, but I'd be trying to figure out how to interpret, like, the Satie! It was different. I never fell into that kind of trap thing by having to compete with my peers. I was always competing with people who were much older than me."

Despite this whirlwind initiation, Scott's feet stayed firmly on the ground. Rather than taking off headfirst into a full-time musical career in his teens, it was parental advice which guided him along a more cautious path. "I started traveling early," he says, "but there was always this thing of my mother saying she wanted us to finish school, as she didn't have a chance to do that because of having us. So, instead of going on the road, I decided I would go to Berklee."

A fundamental philosophical difference influenced this college choice: "I had a full scholarship to go to Juilliard, but the ideology doesn't work for me. I don't have this notion that jazz is more important or valid than any other type of music. That's the sort of doctrine you're given: this is the hardest music in the world, played by the most intelligent musicians, which is bullshit to me. I think that no matter what you do, if you feel you're an artist and you want to create, then your art is just as valid as mine--because I'm no more valid than you are."

The trumpeter isn't afraid of disagreement. At times, it seems he even enjoys it--but not simply as argument for argument's sake. Scott says what he thinks, but he also thinks carefully about what he's saying, presenting refined and logical views in an articulate manner. And this makes his flair for unorthodoxy all the more compelling.

Take Wynton Marsalis, for example. Everyone in jazz has an opinion, and Scott, a personal friend, is no exception. His debut album, Rewind That (Concord, 2006), received a Grammy nomination and significant critical acclaim--but Marsalis was less complimentary. "I had Wynton tell me my music wasn't jazz because the main rhythm wasn't swing," Scott recalls. "He was like: 'If it's not swing, it's not jazz.' So I said to him: 'Louis Armstrong, Kid Ory, Scott Joplin, Jelly Roll Morton, Papa Joe Oliver--all these guys aren't jazz musicians. All of those early New Orleans guys are not jazz musicians.' He was like, 'no, they're jazz ...' And I'm like 'no, they're not, based on what you just said, because swing was invented in Kansas City in the '20s! And jazz predates swing. That rhythm is a perversion of jazz, so how can you say this denotes what the music is when it's a perversion? It's an offset.' That was the first time I ever saw a Negro turn red. He was done."

A Broken System

The issue of Marsalis, Juilliard and the jazz "system" they represent is a hot topic for Scott. Its flaw, in his eyes, lies in the lack of creative dialogue and a prescribed, almost universally accepted set of values which is rarely questioned. The Establishment.

"I feel like the archetype jazz musician now, in the last 25 years, has bought into a type of insincerity for the sake of musical survival: they'll do whatever they have to do to survive musically. The problem with this is that individuality is not paramount anymore--you have all these people who sound the same making records that sound the same. The fact of the matter, in my opinion, is that when you start a healthy dialogue where people disagree with each other, you force them to actually be creative. It's like having an argument: you know how you might have a stance on something but it's not until someone calls you on your stance that your brain starts working. That's basically all it is. My thing is: it's not about me, I would rather the music is better so the next generation of musicians is better. Because what happened is that there's a 10-year gap where the musicians are sadder than their predecessors. That's backwards. You're supposed to be better than them. I know that sounds fucked up, but you understand what I mean."

"Let's go back to basketball. Magic Johnson was a great player, right? He was a great player 25 years ago. Now, do you know who LeBron James is? If you put LeBron James versus Magic Johnson, LeBron James would kill Magic Johnson--he's just better. It's just that during that period of time, Magic was the best. You have to judge it against the context, that's the thing. During that time, Magic was the best in the world but today he'd be mediocre. Just because the guys now had the opportunity to see him and study what he did. So what I'm saying is for jazz musicians, it's like you have Magic Johnson, and then 20 years later you have guys that are worse. It doesn't make any sense. I meet these jazz musicians, they're playing, and I'm like: 'What the fuck have you been listening to? It doesn't even make sense. Go get these 20 records and they'll show you how to connect the dots; they already showed you how to do it, you can't ask for any more!'"

Another eloquent sports metaphor, indeed, but this was one stance which definitely needed calling. Isn't jazz sounding healthy at the moment? Why are there so many people who don't seem able to connect musical dots in the most basic way? And how did this sour phenomenon come into existence? Unsurprisingly, the answers were waiting.

"The problem is that jazz has turned into an academic thing. And what people don't realize is that it was done on purpose, because there's a horrible structure in jazz right now. Fuck it, you can write this, I'm going to say it. At the top of the hierarchical structure are people like Wynton Marsalis. Now, on a personal level, I love him--I can call him up right now, and we'll talk about basketball--but the fact of the matter is that we disagree on some very fundamental levels.

"He got to this place where he's at the top of the pile, and then he decided he was going to tell everyone else in the country what to listen to and how to play jazz. Let's think about that. Let's say it's kung fu, or whatever. We have the highest master, who is all the way at the top of this pile--he studied all this stuff, everything there is to study. If he then tells everyone else just to study two forms of fighting, when he knows eight, that's going to mean everyone else coming up under him will not be able to take him down because they haven't amassed the knowledge he has. They don't have that wealth of knowledge.

"So the problem with jazz musicians now is they're trying to figure out: 'Why do I still sound like John Coltrane? Or why do I still sound like Charlie Parker?' It's because when you were 10 years old some asshole told you to only listen to Parker and Coltrane and nothing else. So you only studied that, while the asshole who told you to do it was listening to Sonny Stitt, and he was listening to Sonny Rollins, and all this Stanley Turrentine, Gary Bartz and all this shit! And you let him tell you only to listen to these two people. This is why you can't compete with him. You've been bamboozled. He tricked you into buying into his system so you would never be able to take him down."

On Record

Scott weaves together threads of thought to construct a strong critique, a net to snare the jazz system, in the same way he creates music. He speaks of being able to freely write notation as if it was text. From the first pulsing guitar riff on "Rewind That," the opening and title track on its namesake album, the atmosphere is enthralling. Throughout the disc, catchy hooks and hypnotic grooves in an R&B or hip-hop vein are developed individually, taken to different levels and mixed around--while elegantly layering up and holding firmly together at the same time. Cutting through it all is the icy, breathy tone of Scott's piercing trumpet. One wants to listen more, rewind and shift the focus of attention.

The release was heralded as a game-changer in critical circles, with Billboard magazine declaring it "arguably the most remarkable premiere the genre has seen in the last decade." Sales were high. An uncharacteristically charismatic debut, Rewind That was a statement of intent--the then 22-year-old Scott had already found a distinctive compositional voice of his own.

It was a notable departure from the quasi-formulaic process expected of freshman jazz players on major labels. Their initiations almost always comprise a fairly predictable standards songbook, with a couple of originals at most. Rewind That was the opposite: the only standard in sight was a jumped-up version of "So What," laid down over a rippling backbeat, with a burning guest solo courtesy of Donald Harrison's snaky alto sax.

"When I signed the record deal, I told them: 'I get to make the music I want to make, and you don't have anything to say about it,'" Scott recollects. "Now, there are pros and cons to that situation, because of course they want some things, and you have to do stuff like paying an extra dollar for a CD--which doesn't bother me because I'm getting to make the music I want to make. But that was the stipulation. I make the music, you put the record out and sell it."

The jazz community saw this move as controversial. "The problem was coming from other musicians. I was getting calls from people I knew, like, 'man, I heard you signed a record deal, you'd need to do a standards album because they put the money on you.' Everyone knows that if you make a standards album with a major label like that, you're going to make a lot of money. But that wasn't important to me, I wanted to make the music I felt was relevant at the time. I would even get into arguments with my uncle about it--he'd be like 'yo, man, you need to do this, we've cleared a path for you and should take that path.' But I'd rather do whatever I want."

Scott's goal was to find out "if you could make your own record the way you wanted to and win." "You don't have to follow a model," he continues. "People make excuses in those types of situations--they might say 'well, no one's ever done that before...' That sounds like an excuse, and an excuse is just an opportunity in disguise. If no one's done it, then we'll probably succeed, because at least we have one thing on our side: we'll be the first ones to try."

With Rewind That, Scott believes he won--"it changed a lot of people." His next CD, Anthem (Concord, 2007), was eagerly anticipated. Recorded and released in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, to many it seemed a moving tribute to the devastation of New Orleans. Darker, broodingly meditative moods and minor themes almost invited such a conclusion.

Scott, however, is quick to dispel this reading of his work. "My album wasn't a Katrina album. Not at all. I think that's callous, and, to be honest with you, when I found out the record company was sort of using that to market it, I had a huge argument with the product manager--like swearing at each other, like pushing. Because the thing is that I have friends--girls I grew up with, who were raped in the Superdome--and people that were murdered, all types of stuff. I didn't live that experience, and that's part of what we do, too; we try to make the music as sincere as possible.

"I wasn't there when the hurricane happened, I was in Boston--so I'm not going to write a song about the hurricane hitting and 'oh, wow, here's me' because I was fuckin' in Boston! You know what I'm saying? I don't think that's OK because I didn't have the negative aspects of that experience so I don't think that's my right to write about it, even though it's about my hometown. I can write a song about losing my home, because that's an experience I had, but the hurricane hitting and the water and being afraid--I didn't experience any of that. So it would be callous of me to write that a song like that. I don't think it would be fair."

This stance led to disagreement with another high profile figure, friend and fellow trumpet player. "I had an argument with Terence Blanchard about it--he didn't like the fact I said what I said, but that's how I felt." Blanchard's album A Tale Of God's Will (A Requiem For Katrina) (Blue Note, 2007) was released around the same time as Anthem. Featuring a full string orchestra, it represented a personal lament on the disaster and won a Grammy for Best Large Jazz Ensemble Album.

"It was like, 'OK man, alright, I know you weren't in New Orleans when it happened, you know, you're very paid, everything is alright, your house didn't get touched by an inch of water--I know it 'cause I know where you live, I've been to your home!' When that album came out, everyone kinda jumped on the bandwagon, and sort of made my album synonymous with it. And that pissed me off! I was very angry. Anthem was actually about socio-political concerns all over the world. What I'd seen is that everywhere I went, people were vying for a voice and they wanted to be heard. I like to talk to people, share stories, sit down and converse--and I realized there's a lot of pain going on and people wanted to get that out, so I wanted to try and make an album full of small anthems that people from different experiences could relate to. It wasn't about a fuckin' hurricane."

A CD/DVD double set, Live at Newport (Concord, 2008), brought more positive reviews and increased media attention--including towards Scott's dress sense. He's been hailed as "jazz's young style god" by JazzTimes magazine. One publicist at a London gig was overheard saying he'd never worked with a jazz musician who had such an eye for style. However, the man himself is rather baffled by such talk, putting the claim down to popular stereotypes. "People were coming to the conclusion that I'm a 'fashion guy,' and it fucked me up because I never think about that shit--like, at all," Scott elucidates.

"On a daily level, the funny thing is that my friends laugh when they come to a concert and say 'you're the same on stage as you are in your daily life.' It doesn't change--I'm still a crazy motherfucker, I dress the same. What I wear to gigs is what you'll see me walking around the hotel in. I don't really think about it much, it's just how I dress. I get a lot of hookups because I have a shopping problem; I get given stuff because they know I'm going to talk about it when people ask me what I wear. But I don't think about it: my shoes are dirty, my pants are probably a little too tight, my socks might be dirty, and this jacket's not ironed. I don't give a fuck. But people see it and they say 'well, I'm used to looking at an African-American guy who's got a T-shirt and a chain on, and this guy dresses more closely to the way a European would dress,' so they automatically say, 'he's more fashionable than the others.' It's true! I can contextualize where people are coming from when they see that but I don't think about it at all."

Moving Forward

Almost exactly a year since the Moscow gigs, Scott is in London for the launch of Yesterday You Said Tomorrow (Concord, 2010), his first studio album since that dramatic sophomore release. His stock has risen. A month trawling the roads of Europe is underway. Two sell-out concerts at Ronnie Scott's club are talk of the town; a constant stream of interviews, from blogs and the BBC to national newspapers, is on the agenda.

"This album is a totally different animal," says an understandably tired Scott in the bar of his hotel. "I'm waiting to see how it will be received because this is nothing like what came before." But he seems far from concerned at this apparently radical deviation from a successful recipe: "I'm not worried, I think when people hear it--whether or not they conclude they like it--they'll have to at least say 'this is not some shit I've heard before.' And I think it will take more time for people to come to conclusions about how they really feel about it."

The CD was recorded over four days under the attentive ear of legendary engineer Rudy Van Gelder, now in his 80s, who came out of retirement especially for the project. Mixing took "ten times as long," according to Scott, who was writing the music "all day and every day, for nearly three-and-a-half years." He adds that his current sidemen--Matthew Stevens (guitar), Milton Fletcher (piano), Kristopher Funn (bass) and Jamire Williams (drums)--are a group he's been trying to assemble for the last four years.

Conceptually, his vision is clear. "I wanted to create an album that sounded like a hybrid between the way we play now--how we incorporate and blend ideas and textures from this generation--and couple it with the type of depth musicians played with in the '60s. And to marry not just sounds and palettes from this era, but also from that one, to have two different time periods together in the music, so it's more dense."

Dense it is. Scott's trademark ostinatos remain intact, but his new band sounds more unhinged than any of the others. Yet there is control. The first track, "K.K.P.D.," is propelled by waves of frenetic beats from Williams, a source of endless energy at the kit. The quintet follows a recent jazz trend of Radiohead covers with "The Eraser," before intermittently mellowing out and turning up the heat over eight more originals, all but one penned by Scott. He duels with Stevens' alternately luminescent or gritty guitar on several cuts, while Fletcher and Funn provide a shimmering, shifting backdrop. Traces of both Rewind That and Anthem are certainly detectable, but Yesterday You Said Tomorrow represents the next stage of evolution, a powerful, expressive document on the current phase of Scott's artistic growth.

"It sounds like what I hear in my head, which is fucked up," states the trumpeter, with a faint tone of surprise. "It's weird because every album I do I feel like I'm getting closer to that sound. You always hear musicians talk about the fact it never sounds like how it is in their head. It's the only album I've made that I can really listen to. I can listen all day, every day, and I always find something I can hold onto that I didn't notice before. It's incredible. And I made the motherfucker!"

Despite obvious satisfaction at how things are going, certain issues are starting to bother Scott in the midst of his small media circus. "I can tell you what I'm sick of being asked about: I'm not terribly concerned with people doing the whole Miles Davis thing. I couldn't care less about that. Man, Miles Davis is dead. Leave that shit alone. If Miles was here, he wouldn't be thinking about me doing what I'm doing--he'd be like 'man, fuck that dude, Christian Scott can kiss my ass.' And I'd be telling him the same shit back. Yeah. He was known for being a bit of a jerk."

A 2009 tour with Marcus Miller, recreating Davis' classic album Tutu (Warner Bros, 1986), could have done Scott more harm than good in this respect. While in one sense there is no greater compliment, it's easy to see why his relentlessly progressive mindset spares no time for raising ghosts of the past.

Scott also reacts negatively to the frequent assumption that his music contains a political element. "I don't think I'm political, I just speak about my experiences. It's weird. I come all the way over here and people think they know me and understand what I'm talking about. You may be able to fathom it to a certain extent, but unless you've been in 100-degree weather picking cotton or cutting down sugar cane, as far as I'm concerned, you can shut the fuck up about it. That's how I feel about those types of things."

The Future

This kind of bold, confident statement has set Christian Scott apart from the day he signed the Concord contract. His emerging position as a leading figure in 21st-century jazz music looks more assured with every release, but he is the first to put things in perspective: "There's been all this hoop-la made about the palette we've been working on," he said in Moscow. "People have been calling me one of the main architects of a new sound of jazz. But I don't see it that way, because all the things I hear relate to stuff I heard before.

"I've had the experience of being around a lot of older musicians. I learned all these different styles and all the old guys said 'amen to what you're doing, if you have a vision.' So I've never bought into 'this is what it is, and if it's not that, then it's wrong,' because most of the older musicians don't feel like that, they just create. I'm not buying into trying to please people, worrying they won't like my music."

Zipping back to the London interview, Scott states that the title Yesterday You Said Tomorrow reflects a palpable sense of urgency throughout the new record. "When you listen to the document," he explains, "it's obvious you're listening to a group of young people who are intent on some type of change."

Scott and his quintet are on a mission to change the way people think about jazz. With an accessible persona, explosive yet thoughtful tirades against a rotten establishment, a democratic message of musical equality, and subtly crafted, thoroughly contemporary and fresh-sounding compositions, he has all the tools to do just that.

Mr. Marsalis, you'd better watch out.

Published @ allaboutjazz.com, 9/3/10 - click here for original.

Barbacana / Troyka - Vortex, 5/3/10

2010-03-08T10:00:00.000+03:00

The bassless Anglo-French quartet Barbacana made strong impressions right from the start: James Allsop’s supple tenor sax led the way, as the others gradually joined in to create a compelling collective improvisation with tight melodic interludes.

This was the story of their set. A constantly shifting dynamic spectrum, ranging from full-volume, rowdy sax blasts and singeing electric guitar to near-silence and an organ that sounded like tootling computers, showed the players were really locked in together. Fresh from a couple of gigs on the other side of the English Channel, this was certainly a good time to catch the exciting new band.

Allsop and keysman Kit Downes were joined by Parisian duo Adrien Dennefeld (guitar) and Sylvain Darriffourcq (drums); all displayed an enjoyment equal to the audience as they attentively listened to each other, rising, falling and fidgeting as one. Perhaps tune structures did get a little predictable, but this did not detract from the pleasure of the moment.

Troyka, a talked-about London trio with a recent release on Edition Records, were next up. Downes was on keys again, joined this time by drummer Joshua Blackmore and guitarist Chris Montague.

They favour a jam band aesthetic – open, loosely structured, slightly wonky grooves have gained much attention. But something seemed to be missing on Friday night. It may have been that the new material Troyka were trying out is not yet fully absorbed; it just sounded a little flat after all the energy and flair of Barbacana.

Compositions seemed to meander, lacking the leadership role which Allsop’s pyrotechnic saxophone had played so effectively for the previous group. While Montague on guitar occasionally managed to unleash a pleasingly acidic Scofield vibe, these instances were all the more notable for their rarity.

With the crowd showing signs of disquiet, the trio sought to raise intensity levels. Only then did heads start to move. A lively, attractive potential is clearly there, but it felt like they had really got going a little too late in the day.

Published @ The London Jazz Blog, 8/3/10 – click here for original.

Downhill with a difference: Moscow’s real wacky racers

2010-02-17T10:00:00.002+03:00

ARCHIVE MATERIAL
An unclassified dispatch from last year's colourful 'Tazovy Downhill' annual bowl race, an event organised by Muscovites to raise their dreary winter spirits. The 2010 contest will take place on February 28.

An expectant group of thickly-coated people is gathering in the park at Orehovo, 15 minutes’ walk from its namesake metro station in south Moscow. It’s the last day of February. This year’s winter, although delayed in its most virulent cold snap, has been traditionally Russian; a light snowfall is settling nicely, coating the local scenery in a fresh veil of pure white.

Winter sports are popular here. Finding entertainment in freezing conditions is no problem for a nation accustomed to three months of sub-zero temperatures. Obvious options like skiing, snowboarding and ice-skating are essential, but a little creativity can lead to endless possibilities.

Established in 2005, the Downhill competition is one such novel concept: rather than using skis or boards, people race each other in bowls. As the appointed time draws nearer, a plethora of bizarre vehicles appear on the hilltop. Some contestants have procured typical household basins, decorated with zany motifs. One team boasts a four-person frigate vessel anchored on a raft made from tree branches. Baking trays, customised snowboards and even a toilet seat complete the array.

Organisers call out the last chance for registration. People line up along the sides of the slope, ready for racing to commence. There’s an excited buzz in the atmosphere. Cameras everywhere. Initial heats will cut the 60-strong field down to three finalists. Cries of “davai! davai!” fill the air as the contest begins, with three luminous yellow-jacketed participants jostling for position. A few minutes later, we have the first breakage – a trail of pink plastic fragments leaves one unfortunate competitor sans bowl after less than three seconds of descent. Could that be a record?

More comical moments are to follow; in addition to the speed challenge, an alcoholic prize is on offer for best costume. As with the vehicles, people have put time and thought into their ideas: we have two lads in orange jumpsuits wearing old Soviet gas masks, one guy in a dubiously acquired police uniform, various snow angels and a fair amount of randomly unidentifiable creations.

Back to the race. Our eventual winner, posting an impressive time of 8.19 seconds, is a 30-something opera singer. Known only as ‘Repka’ (radish), he actually enjoyed a double victory, also capturing the best costume crown. It was a fine effort – an inflated yellow foam bodysuit that made him look twice his weight, topped off by a green fabric headpiece to represent the vegetable’s stalk. The design was inspired by an old Russian fairytale: a family is growing radishes, one of which becomes so big that it’s impossible to pull from the ground. Only when a whole group of people and animals join the effort do they manage to dig it up, with a tiny mouse making the decisive contribution. The moral of the story: every little helps when people work together.

This mysterious yellow fellow turned out to be something of an extreme sports enthusiast. “I’ve had this costume since a bike competition when 1500 people dressed up and cycled 25 kilometres all over Moscow,” he explains. “We went right past the Kremlin – it was great, so cool. I’ve also been to the Tian Shian mountains in Kyrghyzia and to Albrus, the highest mountain in Europe, where I broke my ankle.”

“For this race I decided I just wanted to show off my costume, mainly participate in that competition – not so much the downhill thing, maybe fifth or sixth place. I didn’t expect to be the winner! That was not my aim; it’s even a little bit inconvenient for me, I am feeling slightly uncomfortable about it.” After a flurry of attention at the awards ceremony, our champion looks anything but uncomfortable. Sitting jovially on an upturned bowl, he offers cognac and snacks to one and all while his little black dog yelps excitedly.

Dmitry Maltsev, a lawyer who came in third place due to a vehicular malfunction, is not devastated about the loss. “I’m alive – that’s the main thing,” he says, glancing down at his “modernised” snowboard and its adjoining shattered bowl. “The most important thing about today was that it’s not serious. You’re participating, you’re trying to do your best, but it’s not serious – no one is angry, and I’m fine about third place. It feels like first place!” In fact, he did secure a victory of sorts, recording the competition’s fastest time of 7.65 seconds in his preliminary heat.

Besides the obvious comedy factor, people have revealing views about the Downhill event’s popularity. Elena Sudakova, one of the organisers and a professional skater, thinks it is partially due to the stresses of the season. “We want to have fun and cheer people up! The Russian winter can be boring and depressing with long days and bad weather, so the end of the winter is good,” she says. With the brutal onslaught of economic crisis afflicting many Russians, this winter gone by will have seemed an especially tiring one.

The larger-than-life Repka has another insight: “Many people work a lot in offices. It’s very stressful, very routine and they are like robots. But now we are here to let out our emotions: we’re not thinking about money, we relax, we drink champagne from the bowls, we drink cognac, we communicate with each other; it’s great to see foreigners here too. That’s why I go to the mountains, ride bikes and do all the things like that – to relax.”

As a spectacle, the Downhill contest draws comparisons with that great British traditional quirk, the Gloucester cheese-rolling. Unsurprisingly, Repka knows about it – “maybe I will go there for my next project one day,” he states thoughtfully. “But for now I am happy here with all these crazy Russians riding on bowls.”

Alexander Mashin

2010-02-10T22:00:00.000+03:00

Charlie Wright’s, London, 10/2/10
www.jazzmashin.com

Acoustic Ladyland // Pete Wareham

2010-02-06T22:00:00.000+03:00

Vortex, London, 6/2/10
myspace.com/acousticladylandmusic
Click here to read my interview with Pete Wareham, published May 2008.

Requiem for a jazz great

2010-01-19T10:00:00.000+03:00

George Garanian, 1934-2010

On January 11, Russian jazz icon George Garanian – a musician who nourished jazz as part of Soviet culture – suffered a fatal heart attack while on tour with his popular big band. He was 75. A productive career spanning more than half a century has ensured that Garanian, a highly renowned saxophonist, composer and arranger, will be fondly remembered.

Son of an engineer and a teacher, Garanian was interested in music from a young age. His first encounter with the alto saxophone came in his early twenties as a student at the Moscow Technical Institute: After being asked to take a friend’s horn to the repair shop, he found himself unable to give it back.

Kirill Moshkov, editor of jazz.ru, Russia’s leading jazz magazine and web portal, is unequivocal about Garanian’s significance. In the same way the immortal melody of the Dave Brubeck Quartet’s “Take Five” is instantly recognizable to so many Americans, Garanian’s whimsical, lithe alto tone was cherished by the Soviet population as it featured in soundtracks to several classic films.

“The same thing happens all over the world,” writes Moshkov on his blog. “The people moving music forward are unknown to the masses; they only know songs like “Take Five” and never the names of the musicians playing. Soviet jazz was like that too.”

While Garanian’s early career may have suffered from this typical affliction – a man known by sound yet not by name – he would soon rise to prominence. As a youngster, he played in the foremost ensembles of the era, including those of Oleg Lundstrom and Yury Saulsky – with whom he won a silver medal at the 1957 World Festival of Youth and Students in Moscow. Saulsky went on to hail his former protégé as “without doubt, one of the most important personas in contemporary Russian jazz.”

In the 1970s, Garanian began working with the Soviet state record company, Melodiya, leading a cult band of the same name which sold millions. He also became heavily involved in film composition as conductor of the State Cinematic Orchestra. At this time, he completed his greatest educational achievement, a textbook on orchestration that is still widely used.

Garanian’s fame peaked in 1993, when he became a National Artist of the Russian Federation – the first jazz musician to receive this prestigious title. It was a fitting accolade for a tireless worker who traveled the world in the name of Russian jazz, as well as helping firmly establish it as part of domestic popular culture.

Singer Lev Leshenko, a fellow National Artist, met Garanian working on radio projects in the 70s. “He was a man of sparkling humor and literally encyclopedic knowledge, who had a new understanding and a new musical aesthetic,” he said in a television interview with Channel 5. “As a young boy coming to the radio, I absorbed it all.”

Garanian, who grew up in a Russian-Armenian family, will be remembered for modest humility and a peaceful outlook. The nation got to know his personality not only through music, but from his own TV and radio shows, which he used to spread the jazz vision.

As one of the first Russian musicians to gain serious attention from the Western world – U.S. critic John Hammond described his talent as “phenomenal” – George Garanian played a pivotal role in the development of jazz in his country. Through turbulent times, with the music variously regarded as high culture or a dangerous poison from America, he led the way, both on stage and off, and has left a stellar legacy for future generations.

Published @ Russia Beyond The Headlines, 22/10/09 – click here for original.

Running for the exit

2010-01-12T22:00:00.000+03:00

Instant club, Budapest, 12/1/10

Moscow's needy receive a gift of kindness

2009-12-24T20:20:00.002+03:00

If you want to support the OPORA cause, please contact Dr Gezahgn Wordofa on opora2003[at]yahoo.com. Any donations of clothes, food or time are always highly appreciated.

Broadcast on Prime Time Russia (RT), 24/12/09 – click here for archive.

A Traveler’s Road to Enlightenment

2009-12-16T10:00:00.002+03:00

Hitching rides became a way of life for Jack Kerouac’s Beat Generation. Decades later, Anton Krotov is leading a movement of Russia’s globetrotting “free travelers.”

With over 30 years of travel experience and 17 books under his belt, Anton Krotov doesn’t lack in tales from the road.

“One of my favorite stories comes from a journey on the Trans-Siberian Railroad, from Magadan back to Moscow,” said Anton Krotov, founder of the Moscow Academy of Free Travel. “My friend and I were detained by guards at a station for trying to negotiate with the train’s engineer. We went willingly, telling them about our trip, and they gave us food before handing us over to local police. We made friends with them, too, had dinner and a bath, and stayed at the chief policeman’s home before being given a special escort the next day.”

Krotov is Russia’s international guru of free travel. Regular congregations take place in his tiny Moscow apartment, which is filled with memorabilia from around the globe. This isn’t Europe on $20 per day: Krotov explores the limitless possibilities of our planet without paying. He describes foreign ministry blacklists as “the best countries to visit.” He gives lectures and sells his books all over Russia, teaching people how to discover freedom. Even in English, Krotov’s words project the authority of a seasoned public speaker. Animatedly narrating adventures from across Asia, Africa and the vastness of Russia, he frequently refers to his mountain of photo albums.

This man, some kind of wanderlust folk hero for post-Soviet Russia, really does come from another world. And this world is increasingly accessible. Whereas in Soviet times, internal passports were often needed to leave home cities, Russians now enjoy relative liberty to visit other countries and see more of their own. Domestic and international travel has boomed. Visa bureaucracy remains a common barrier, but today’s situation is still a far cry from the pre-1991 regime.

The term free travel invites obvious conclusions about low-budget fiscal efficiency. But, according to Krotov, his concept represents a lot more than trying to get around on minimal expenditure. “Somebody travels and lives with people, but these people do not get work from it. We sit in villages and experience different types of life, but these people are not our guides. We look at the normal life of the world.”

Krotov’s inherently optimistic soul is clearly the guiding light. “We believe in friendship. All people are one family, living in one house; the world is one big house with different rooms. And people are friendly everywhere. When I travel, I don’t take a tent because I know everybody will invite me in. I lived four months in Indonesia and 100 different people invited me in on 100 different days. All the world is one. No enemies. No dangerous places. Nowhere.”

“I went to Afghanistan, where Russia made war 20 years ago. Now Russians are afraid to go there, as well as Americans and the British. They think it’s a dangerous country of narcotics and terrorism. I did not see this: People would give me lifts, in every village I found a place to sleep and eat. Some of them were veterans of war, but they had no problems with me. Nobody sold me drugs, showed me guns or tried to kill me. I’ve been there many times; it is a very friendly, happy, beautiful country.”

Krotov’s pocket handbook, “134 Questions – 134 Answers,” aims to address popular fears and myths. He goes into detail about how to prepare, emphasizing that free travel doesn’t always mean a zero budget. It’s vital to keep family and friends informed. As for the question of women on the road, he claims to know several who, “despising old prejudices, travel alone for thousands of kilometers,” with the only exception being in strongly Islamic countries.

Krotov’s mission is encouraging people to liberate themselves from old ways of thinking. Travel is a metaphor, a journey toward an independent life and an open heart. “I want to teach. Sometimes, after hearing my lectures... they will come to Moscow, to live here with me and learn more,” he explained.

“Of course, there are many who want to change but do nothing, especially in the former U.S.S.R. They think the government shows people everything — how to work, study, eat, sleep and that’s it. They are afraid of change. They do not understand that if you want to do something, you should do it. You are free, people, free!

Published in Russia Now, December 2009, with The Washington Post (USA).

Olympic challenge for Sochi games

2009-12-05T17:00:00.001+03:00

Officially the Winter Olympics are non-politicised – but the reality is that wherever Russia goes, politics will follow.

Russia will be holding a national referendum to select its mascot for the 2014 Winter Olympics in Sochi. Contenders include a dolphin on skis, a potential revival of the 1980 games’ popular beaming bear, and a giant-eared children’s character known as Cheburashka. With a cast like that, cynics might be reminded of the recent parliamentary elections.

No irony is lost in this faux-democratic gesture from Russia’s PR-obsessed political regime. State-controlled TV and close monitoring of the press give the government an effective monopoly on public opinion. The Sochi Games, a pet project of the prime minister, Vladimir Putin, will become an increasingly prominent weapon in the country's constant image battle with the west.

But the 2014 grand plan is not only fighting a war of words and perceptions.

Sochi is located on the scenic Black Sea coast, just 12 miles from the border with Abkhazia – a rebellious Georgian province Moscow recognises as an independent state. In August last year, Russian forces won a five-day war against Georgia over this disputed enclave and its fellow breakaway, South Ossetia. Nicaragua and Venezuela are so far the only countries to follow the Kremlin's recognition.

Abkhazia looks set to benefit from its proximity to the Olympic development. President Sergei Bagapsh expects at least $300m of investment in construction materials, while the Russian government says it will station 100,000 workers there due to cheaper living costs. As a fragile, war-torn semi-state, Abkhazia is working against the odds. Russia clearly believes it is the overlord, but increasing confidence and funds could see the Abkhaz elite try to take de facto independence one step further, effectively biting the hand that feeds it. Earlier this year, officials met with the Turkish prime minister and received a delegation from Tehran.

The Georgian government, which still regards both Abkhazia and South Ossetia as its sovereign territory, is working against Russian endeavours to foster autonomy. In September, news agencies reported the Georgian navy had intercepted more than 20 supply ships as it tried to assert authority over the renegade province. Meanwhile, American support for Georgia’s controversial president, Mikheil Saakashvili, has remained a sticking point amid the proffered "reset" in US-Russia relations.

Russia’s northern Caucasus is also rumbling uneasily. The conflict-ridden republics of Ingushetia, Chechnya and Dagestan lie due east of Sochi. On Wednesday, Chechen rebels claimed responsibility for last week's bombing that took 26 lives on the busy train route between St Petersburg and Moscow. Security has become a major concern for the Olympic organisers. Despite Russian claims that the region is under control – Chechnya’s anti-terrorism operation was lifted in April – the current situation remains volatile.

And the worst-case scenario could yet materialise. In August 2008, White House foreign policy heavyweight Zbigniew Brzezinski used an article in TIME magazine to tell the west it should consider the option of an Olympic boycott. The 1980 summer games in Moscow suffered such a fate: when the US withdrew its team in protest against the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, more than 60 other countries followed. Georgia is already lobbying for a repeat of this unqualified PR disaster.

Russia’s flawless domestic propaganda operation is well-documented; Putin's annual TV question time was a perfect example. The vast majority of citizens are happy to surrender democratic rights for the sake of national progress. Ambitious schemes like Sochi 2014 and a bid to host the football World Cup in 2018 or 2022 form a vital element of the country’s wider global publicity campaign. Sport has huge potential to make a nation look good.

Officially the Olympics are non-politicised – and rightly so – but the reality is that wherever Russia goes, politics will follow. Even with these issues aside, the International Olympic Committee has declared Sochi 2014 one of the most complex projects in the history of the Games. They picked a city nowhere near ready for such an event: Russia must construct some 80% of necessary infrastructure. Four years remain.

The IOC may have bitten off more than it can chew with the Sochi gamble. Many unanswered questions are still lurking in the shadows. There is a very realistic prospect that the Olympic brand, with its lofty values of “excellence, respect and friendship,” will be tarnished once again, irrespective of the boycott.

Suddenly, the choice of bear or dolphin seems the least of Putin’s worries. Anyone for Cheburashka?

Published @ guardian.co.uk, 5/12/09 - click here for original.

Manuel Mengis – Dulcet Crush

2009-10-30T10:00:00.000+03:00

HatHut Records / Hatology 684
Release: November 2009

Manuel Mengis – trumpet
Reto Suhner – alto saxophone, alto clarinet
Roland von Flue – tenor saxophone, bass clarinet
Flo Stoffner – electric guitar
Marcel Stalder – electric bass
Lionel Friedli – drums

1. Plant Life
2. End Of A Record Breaker
3. Bling Bling Cowboy
4. Luscious Delirium
5. Sustain The Gain
6. The Opposite Of Spring
7. How Mario Tut Tut Got Super Wow Wow
8. We Come In Peace
[ Total Time: 52:02 ]

All compositions by Manuel Mengis.
Liner notes by Frederick Bernas.

Back Cover

Is three the magic number? For many jazz musicians it’s an important one. Every record is of course significant, but the third is often more closely scrutinised. In this sense, it’s both a great opportunity and a niggling pressure: the chance to really begin cementing a good name, with a little weight of added expectation.

Manuel Mengis, however, did not feel any of this. He even identifies a more relaxed approach than his two previous releases, partially due to shifting priorities in life. An atmosphere of light, easy contentment shines through the music – Mengis and the Gruppe 6 are really enjoying themselves, free of any kind of external strain. And the pleasure is contagious.

Liner Notes: Small Town, Big View
April 2009

“Jazz is the world’s most decadent form of music!” growled my soft-rock loving lawyer flatmate in a typical coarse disposition. When I received the rough tracks for Manuel Mengis’s new record, I don’t think my neighbours in Moscow knew quite what had hit them. To my friend, a guy who’d been to only one jazz gig in his entire life, Dulcet Crush would have seemed as alien as – well – European contemporary jazz to an avid pop fan.

But Mengis identifies a marked change of approach in this, his third album, compared with two previous releases on HatHut: “I think this album is easier to follow. I try to make music that can also touch people not into the jazz scene, at least when played live.”

A glance down the track list shows something of a radical departure. Whereas Into The Barn and The Pond featured four tunes apiece, we now have double that. All but gone are the 15-minute epic explorations. A clear spirit of simplicity was at the heart of Mengis’s concept, but he believes it represented more a natural evolution of his compositional style than a conscious, deliberate decision. “I had lines in my head that were easy to sing along, really logical melodies one can remember.”

“This time I tried to stay more with one idea or one atmosphere in a piece – not trying to tell the full story within one piece, but through the whole record. I don’t want to make the music more special than it is. In fact, I really wanted to keep it quite easy at times. Some parts sound like they’re written for a crooner, pathetic to the limit; other times it sounds like Hollywood, the ‘Rocky’ boxing movie, or very pop. I also use clichés, but I like them because they take the music down to very clear images, part of a common memory. They can still express authentic feelings.”

“Some melodies are maybe naïve, but I like to check the limits and try to stop before they turn into bad taste, banality or trite. They are also used as a sort of counterpoint to weirder, more abstract spots.”

When we talked in late 2008, for an interview published on AllAboutJazz.com, the trumpeter spoke in detail about his writing methods. “I have a lot of different ideas in my mind. In the first few days, I need to find out what I really want – which notes I want to use. I write a lot of stuff, throw some away, edit, and then after a few days I'm really into it – I can get a clearer picture.”

Things happened differently for Dulcet Crush: “I changed my way of working. I did a lot in my head, turning things around and trying to get rid of unnecessary parts in advance, before I started writing things down. A lot of pieces were finished much faster. I’m changing my processes.”

So what led to this subtle shift in his creative dialectic? “I think I am getting more trust in my writing and meaning, and the band and the sound we make. Maybe somehow it becomes less ambitious, but I don’t know if that’s the right word. I am getting more clear and relaxed in how I work, becoming more comfortable with myself. Also, I think looking after two children and reconstructing an old house had some influence; I was forced to work more efficiently and maybe not take my music too seriously.”

Mengis also believes the Gruppe 6 is really growing into its own musical organism, contributing considerably to that crucial trust factor. “I think we have found our own sound, which means it’s not necessary to construct everything anymore. Everybody has reached a point where they know what I mean; I was more focusing on how things were played than what was going to be played.”

Drummer Lionel Friedli agrees there is copious mutual understanding within the group. “The studio vibes were really good, the energy between us was very strong. We have a lot of experience playing together, so I think that has created a very natural feeling and a lot of joy.”

Friedli credits the bandleader with fostering this open, fertile collective mentality. “Manuel knows exactly what he wants, but he also knows when to simply let it go, let people take their place and put their own ideas into the music. He has a good balance between the two sides.” This is aptly demonstrated on tracks such as ‘Sustain the Gain’ and ‘End of a Record Breaker,’ which combine strictly prescribed written passages with swirling, tempestuous improvisations that express an electrifying unspoken chemistry.

Mengis emphatically paints a variety of moods in vivid colours, from “tiny, peaceful” lullabies to anarcho-funkadelic “hero music” freak-out with echoes of John Zorn’s Naked City. It’s a study of extremes, but nonetheless a consistent effort. A clear individual touch unifies this set of highly differing compositions, partially due to a couple of sneaky recurring themes worked into the charts. “There are little connections,” Mengis explains. “Melodies here and there will occur more than once; I was thinking about the whole record. For example, just before the end of ‘Plant Life’ we have quite a prominent theme, which comes again on ‘We Come in Peace’. It’s like a memory of the other tune.”

“Critics have compared our records to various other people, but I don’t know,” muses Friedli. “There are some complicated themes that can make connections to the contemporary avant garde, but it’s very personal music to me. Somewhere it can sound maybe like pop, but the instrumentation is also distinct. Manuel makes his own authentic sound, he has his own universe.”

In this private cosmos, Mengis is not afraid of unorthodox experiments. “On a few tunes I made some kind of background noise with things lying around at home. I have an old kalimba my sister gave me, and I actually never played it. But I wanted to create some additional atmospheres in the background, so I was playing around with that kalimba, a toy piano and bells at the session. I also had an old cittern at my father’s place, from my grandfather – some noises you hear on ‘How Mario Tut Tut Got Super Wow Wow’ are made by that. It’s nothing really new for this type of music, but that was no reason not to try myself.”

“I have no clue how to play the cittern properly, but maybe I got inspired by the light-heartedness of my children, which I’m so glad for. Of course I had to be careful, I didn’t want to push it too far. There’s a border: it can quickly become phoney, but that doesn’t matter to me because it was a really spontaneous thing to try. I was fooling around with those little toys, and in some ways that kind of attitude is important for everyone who plays on the record. For example, Flo Stoffner uses a lot of different sounds and is full of surprises – just like the rest of the band.”

A fortuitous countryside encounter gave Mengis, who lives in the mountainous region of Switzerland, another flash of inspiration. “One little idea came from a time I was coming down from the mountains. There were some goats crossing – like 50 of them – suddenly all around me, hoping to get some food; a few tried to eat my clothes. I took out my mobile phone and recorded the goats’ bells to make a new ringtone. And that’s what you can hear on ‘The Opposite of Spring;’ I left the ringtone in there, holding my phone to the mic. It has two sides: a really romantic element, being in nature, but also the cheap sound quality of a mobile phone. That gives it a kind of strange junk aspect I wanted too.”

The creative dynamics of small-town life have also affected Mengis, who “cannot hide within a circle of other musicians.” To me the phenomenon seems almost like semi-brutal self-exposition. “The only chance I have to make myself understood as a musician is to create my own stuff,” he explains. “I can’t just go around town every night, meet other musicians and everybody helps each other out. When you are out of that kind of environment, you maybe have to answer certain questions differently.”

“The place where I live, my work as a mountain guide – all that may seem a little exotic. But does it make my sound different? I mean, almost every jazz musician has another job on the side. And sure, when you don’t live in a cultural centre, it takes extra effort to know what’s going on and be inspired by the work of others. But everyone is trying to do their own thing – in Berlin, New York, the countryside or wherever.”

“Sometimes you feel isolated, but I am lucky to have a good label, people who support my work and, most importantly, friends in the band,” states Mengis. “I am happy. We are at the point where everyone is ready to surf the music.”

An individual musical universe can develop anywhere. In the words of Friedli, Dulcet Crush is “a kaleidoscopic view on the mind of Manuel.” Welcome to the panorama.

Currently living in Russia, Frederick Bernas writes about music, politics and culture and needs more time to play his tenor saxophone.

Football’s red armies are growing stronger

2009-10-22T16:00:00.000+04:00

On any Premiership match day in pubs and homes around the UK, football fans of all creeds gather to drink, socialise and cheer on their favoured club. The majority of teams have a strictly local following, while others – generally the most successful sides like Manchester United, Arsenal, Liverpool and Chelsea – possess a nationwide army of devout supporters.

In recent years, these leading British teams, as well as equivalents from premier leagues across Europe, have transcended national boundaries, evolving into powerful and prominent global brands. Manchester United, Real Madrid and AC Milan, to give three potent examples, are more franchises than football clubs. Sir Alex Ferguson’s side is believed to have a staggering 300 million fans worldwide – that’s five percent of the earth’s population.

Russia is no exception to this rising trend. Walking into Moscow’s aptly-named Bobby Dazzler sports bar on Champions League semi-final night last season, one could be easily forgiven for thinking they’d just entered any of London or Manchester’s innumerable drinking dens. Irish pub food is on the menu, with a selection of beers including London Pride, Carling and Guinness. A large group of red-devilled shirts is clustered around a projector screen, chanting, shouting and applauding as their 11 heroes defeat rivals Arsenal 3-1. When the final whistle blows, the room erupts into song – the ‘Moscow Reds’ are celebrating in style.

According to Ilya Zubko, deputy sport editor of the Rossiyskaya Gazeta national newspaper, English football started getting popular in the early 1990s. “Russian TV stations were broadcasting league and cup matches, and fans got to experience a different kind of atmosphere, a different kind of football,” he explains. “Those people with money began to travel to the UK and see it for themselves, so our country’s supporter culture became slowly more influenced by English habits. In fact, they didn’t only visit the matches of popular teams, often choosing to watch smaller clubs to experience the real atmosphere for less money. Supporting an English club is a kind of fashion now.”

Lifelong Arsenal fan Alexander Krotov, who heads the club’s official Moscow supporters’ group, says he was drawn by pure quality of football: “I was about 10 when I started watching Premier League games on TV. It became much more interesting for me than Russian matches – I just loved the way Arsenal played. When I compared that to Russian teams, it was like they weren’t from the same planet.”

Arsenal manager Arsene Wenger’s acquisition of playmaker Andrey Arshavin in January this year has increased interest in the club, although perhaps not to the same extent as the boom of Russian support for Chelsea after oligarch Roman Abramovich’s takeover in 2003. “More people come to watch Arsenal matches with us now,” says Krotov, “But once Arshavin is substituted, they all walk out.”

You won’t find any of this fickle mentality at the Bobby Dazzler, however, where the Moscow Reds wail out chants they have clearly spent some time rehearsing. And while the Arsenal supporters’ club is comprised mainly of 20-something students, Manchester United seem to have a wider variety of devotees. Nikolay Molok, head of the Stella Art Foundation and former editor of Art Chronika magazine, can be found at the bar almost without fail on match nights – often accompanied by his 15-year-old son. “My son Kolya is interested in football, and I wanted to be able to watch games with him in a nice, friendly setting,” Molok says. “I wouldn’t dream of taking him to Russian matches. When I go to the stadiums, I hear swear words I don’t even know. It’s not a great place for a young man to be.”

Ilya Zubko concurs, describing the brutal habit of rival fans organising fights with each other and posting videos on the internet to show who won. “At the first game of the current season, between Zenit St Petersburg and Spartak Moscow, one group of drunk hooligans started breaking down police barriers and hurling seats across to the other side,” he recollects. “However, fighting in stadiums is actually far less common than it once was; the police aren’t as aggressive these days. Fans are much more likely to meet somewhere in the forest and fight secretly there.”

As Western influence gradually pervades the vast expanse of the Russian Federation, opportunities to follow foreign clubs are multiplying. Sports bars are springing up, especially in larger cities, and young people are slowly gravitating towards European cultural norms. It’s an emerging market. Manchester United is well known for pouring resources into a far-reaching Asian commercial plan, including a recent pre-season tour of Malaysia, South Korea and China. Is Russia a feasible next step?

Published @ Russia Beyond The Headlines, 22/10/09 – click here for original.

The Price of Indifference

2009-08-31T22:30:00.002+04:00

Russia’s Young Are Too Focused on Attaining Material Well-Being to Partake in Human Rights Activism

On a grey, dreary Monday evening in Moscow, pre-autumnal rain dully patters down as a group of human rights supporters convene to solemnly remember a champion of their cause. Activist and lawyer Natalia Estemirova’s body was found in the Republic of Ingushetia on July 15; this event, on August 24, marked 40 days since the tragic killing.

The weather matches the mood. A sombre line of ashen-faced demonstrators bear placards with slogans such as “The Price of Truth – Death” and “Politkovskaya, Markelov, Estemirova – Who Next?” while various orators strike a similar depressing tone. This was, in fact, the second such occasion, a month after the first, when the same people displayed the same messages before cramming into a basement meeting hosted by Memorial, the human rights NGO Estemirova represented in Chechnya.

This stirring tribute left deep impressions. Apart from the steely resilience etched onto protesters’ faces, perhaps most striking was their age – for several reasons. While immense respect is due to these veteran campaigners, toiling on through thick and thin, perhaps there was a latent sense they are fighting for a lost cause. Amidst all the strong, powerful words, was there a hint of resignation in the atmosphere? After a string of murders including the aforementioned Anna Politkovskaya and Stanislav Markelov, the Estemirova case has come as another crushing blow. Memorial has closed its Grozny office, ceasing operations in the troubled Chechen region.

“There is a somnambulistic attitude towards Natalia’s death,” says photojournalist Mari Bastashevski, whose latest project documents a decade of abductions in the North Caucasus. “The human rights community has suffered badly from all these killings – it’s not clear whether Memorial’s activities in Chechnya will start again. The working conditions are proving to be impossible.”

Conspicuous absence

There was a tangible lack of people below the age of 40 at both demonstrations, reflecting a crucial situation in Russian society. Widespread apathy and lack of the will to be aware means humanitarian organisations are perennially undermanned. Within this already small base of support, numbers of young people are even lower.

Human rights campaigner Alexander Mnatsakanyan believes historical factors are the root cause. “In Tsarist times, before the revolution, students were active,” he explains. “We know they protested against different decisions – this was normal student activity, as in France or Germany. Then, in Soviet times, there were no responsible people. Dissident movements died out, or were reduced to underground discussion clubs which saw a lot of young people punished in the 1970s and ’80s. Our students don’t have the experience or traditions of those in the West.”

Varvara Pakhomenko, 24, works with Demos and the Russian Justice Initiative. An activist since age 18, she stood out in a sea of grey as she spoke about friend and colleague Estemirova at both protest gatherings. In her view, a purely economic system of priorities amongst educated young people means human rights is an unattractive career path. “Many of my classmates from university now work in government services, business or science. All are clever, talented people, but they don’t come to human rights because they need to earn money.” In fact, this kind of work can even represent a blot on one’s CV and bring problems trying to enter different fields – “Employees of Memorial couldn’t find any other jobs if they wanted to,” she states glumly.

Where does this negative connotation come from? “Human rights is associated with things like democracy and freedom of speech, which in Russia are connected to the release of wild capitalism in the 1990s,” Pakhomenko elaborates. “That’s why, in response to the question ‘do we need freedom of speech?’ people say no. They think it will bring chaos, with violence exposed on TV and journalists writing whatever they want. These are all bad things which remind people of the Yeltsin period and those hard times.”

“The real problem of human rights organisations in Russia is that they are separated from normal people,” she continues. “They deal with issues that are insignificant for the majority of the country – most people are thinking about cars and higher food prices.” Alexander Mnatsakanyan agrees, adding that the dilemma with young people links to a wider sense of isolation: “We are a closed expert community, detached from society, connected to the West. This division is an old problem of Russian intellectuals.”

What is to be done?

Any solution to this eternal Russian question must start at the grass roots, believes Pakhomenko. “We need to talk about the values of democracy, telling students about human rights, dignity and equality. I don’t think young people must necessarily head in large crowds to join the human rights movement – changing the broader national attitude to activism is more important.”

And for those who do choose to get involved, there is no shortage of opportunities. As well as senior organisations like Memorial, Demos, Amnesty and Human Rights Watch, the Youth Human Rights Movement is a project which can sometimes work “more efficiently than its older, bigger partners,” according to Pakhomenko. “They speak the right language to communicate with young people. It’s a good place to start, as they can always find interesting projects for you to work on.”

This process of raising awareness will not be quick or simple. Even with recent signs of more liberal legislation from President Dmitry Medvedev, the education system – still left with many elderly teachers as a remnant of the Soviet era – is unlikely to transform overnight. Furthermore, changing a country’s moral compass in this way, opening the people’s eyes to democracy, is not something a small, closed movement can easily achieve.

“If you take to the streets of Moscow and talk about the overall concerns of the population, you will quickly realise most are comfortable in the shell of a certain political pacifism and live in a fog of ignorance, especially regarding the Caucasus situation,” says journalist Bastashevski. “If you go to protest meetings, you expect a fuss to blow up, something to change, but it doesn’t. The ethic and moral values that could allow an uprising to form do not exist.”

Without the fire and enthusiasm of more young activists like Varvara Pakhomenko, will Russia ever adopt the values of Western democracy? How many more journalists, lawyers and campaigners will be killed before normal people sit up and take notice? “Natalia Estemirova was patient,” recalls Bastashevski. “She believed very deeply that the public must be educated about their rights, constitution and social awareness. After 80 years of totalitarian rule, this will clearly be a slow and painful process, but it’s nothing if not impossible. It is up to the oppressed – not the government, not the already burdened human rights advocates, but the current generation – to make this possible in our lifetimes.”

Published @ Russia Profile (edited version), 31/8/09 - click here for original.

Hot New Jazz CDs from the UK

2009-07-16T19:00:00.005+04:00

Led Bib – Sensible Shoes

If London’s “maverick avant-jazz skronkers” Led Bib were a politician, they’d put John McCain to shame. But it’s not just skronkadelic mania and wall-to-wall noise: this twin-sax-led quintet presents a thorough exercise in structured collective improvisation, which traverses mood and dynamic with a delicacy that belies the fierce, free energy that so often possesses them.

A prime example is “2.4:1 (Still Equals None),” which features a gentle introduction from the saxes and spinning random keyboard sounds, before bass and drums come in with their own cautious, careful ideas. You wonder what’s going to happen next—will the tune suddenly take off into a stratospheric, gut-wrenching blast of hysteria? No. Situated as it is, perfectly midway through the 9-track CD, this is a welcome and admirable respite demonstrating commendable restraint from a group which clearly loves to play loud.

Drummer and leader Mark Holub believes Sensible Shoes represents a “coming of age” for the band. They’ve certainly succeeded in producing a disc which captures the inimitable firepower and charisma that frequently draws a small army of followers to gigs around the capital. It’s a very natural statement, made in a language that maintains accessibility while occasionally bordering on the extreme—not an easy thing to do without sounding forced or awkward.

Seb Pipe’s Life Experience – Shoot For The Stars

Altoist Seb Pipe’s new release on 33Jazz has a sparkling effervescence that keeps you riveted. His rich, cultured, talkative tone guides the listener through 11 original compositions, including fresh arrangements of Romanian and Brazilian melodies—the classic “Tico-Tico” is instantly recognisable.

The CD opens with “Yonetsu (Residual Energy).” A sweeping sax line soars over drummer George Hart’s crisp, brisk backdrop, which then segues into “Yo Tico!,” Pipe’s adaptation of the famous tune written by Zequinha de Abreu in 1917. From there we have the more melancholy “Fortran,” a lyrical nine-minute offering that calms things down before “Balance and Contrast,” a breakneck semi-acoustic-fusion tune which almost seems to be a slower piece played back at double speed. A brief duel between Hart and pianist Arthur Lea is topped off by an unexpected injection of scat from Pipe.

The saxophonist is clearly well versed in his trade, with a wide palette of influences and knowledge. Indeed, the album title itself references a quote by the Chinese philosopher Confucius. Pipe comes across as a profoundly positive composer and player, with a lively mind and strong musical instincts—certainly a deserving recipient of the Arts Council England “Jazz Services” recording and touring grant which made this fine release possible.

Phronesis – Green Delay

Avishai Cohen has heralded Jasper Høiby as a name to watch. It’s easy to see why: these two versatile instrumentalists share a penchant for bass-driven acoustic grooves and syncopated, staccato rhythmic motifs.

“Abraham’s New Gift,” the first track on Green Delay, will find Cohen fans in familiar territory, but subtle differences become ever more apparent as the record goes on. The Phronesis group atmosphere seems a little more open, less tied down; they relax and stretch out, taking a break from rigid charts and settling into their own thing.

Høiby and fellow Dane Anton Eger on drums form a cohesive foundation. The bassist always finds a simple way to anchor the music, not overcrowding his bandmates with too many notes and giving both considerable liberty. Pianist Ivo Neame is able to flow freely when the time comes, reaching impressively understated heights with his canny improvisations. He doesn’t slam, he doesn’t smash, but a clear stream of ideas is detectable through every solo.

“Phronesis” is the Greek intellectual virtue of moral thought, “the ability to think well about the nature of the world.” Prudence. So it’s a fitting name for Høiby’s band, as its three members communicate musically using precisely this kind of mentality. No one jumps to the front. It’s an extended dialogue between equal partners, the outcome of which is pleasurable for any jazz listener.

Kairos 4tet – Kairos Moment

These days in London, it’s not a surprise when a completely unknown name turns up with an accomplished CD. Saxophonist/leader Adam Waldmann does just that with his Kairos 4tet and their debut album—you could be easily forgiven for thinking it was the product of a much longer musical relationship than a group formed only in spring last year.

Waldmann possesses a fluid, commanding compositional voice, asserted boldly on this set of a dozen originals. Singer Emilia Martensson joins the quartet for “Unresolved,” adding her ebullient, airy vocals to an ambient sonic mixture. It’s Jasper Høiby on bass again, with pianist Rob Barron and Jon Scott on drums.

Rippling beats and solid riffs are mixed with Waldmann’s intriguingly differentiating saxes—dreamy tenor; sharp, piercing soprano—and catchy, accessible tunes, delivered with a good degree of wit and guile. There is a contemplative, thoughtful aesthetic and a latent sense the musicians are playing happily within themselves, comfortable and at ease with each other and the material.

Published @ jazz.com, 16/7/09 - click here for original.

A Cappella Group Jukebox Make Good on Own

2009-06-09T14:00:00.003+04:00

Like all popular music groups, the Jukebox Trio has its own successful formula. Presenting a rich mix of classic covers and original material in an open, friendly, accessible style – with two singers and a human beatbox – it’s hard not to enjoy the experience of seeing them play.

“I don’t know any other a cappella bands with only three people,” says lead singer Vladimir Ivanov. “Usually they have six, but we cut it down to the main things: bass, rhythm and melody. And actually, that’s all you really need in music.” Clever live sampling techniques are also often used to create layered, harmonised soundscapes that give the impression of more voices.

The group formed in 2004, when brothers Vladimir and Ilya Ivanov met Kirill Sharafutdinov at a vocal studio where they learned jazz and funk fundamentals. “We had mutual interests, we were listening to a lot of the same music – Bobby McFerrin, Take 6, Queen, The Beatles. It’s different music but we like it all,” explains Vladimir.

At live shows, this diversity is evident. Reworked Elvis Presley hits, silky Bossa Nova ballads and sermonising soulful serenades are all on the agenda. The penultimate track on the Trio’s debut album, Acappellipsis, features a list of influential artists: names as varied as Ozzy Ozbourne, John Coltrane, Jimi Hendrix and the Chemical Brothers are recited in comically exaggerated Russian accents.

However, copies of the CD are somewhat hard to come by. “We decided not to sell the album in shops, it’s only available at our concerts,” says Vladimir. Why? “It’s a big problem to make a good production with Russian record labels. They are really down now.” He also cites the mercenary nature of the country’s music industry as something the group wants to avoid. “Radio stations and TV channels play everything just for money, apart from maybe Western musicians – mainstream stuff. If you want to be big in Russia, you have to pay.

“The most important thing with Jukebox Trio is that, at first, it wasn’t for money – simply for pleasure. When we started to earn money with the music, it was a bonus. And that’s still the order of priorities.”

The fickle nature of the scene in their home city, Kazan, was another obstacle the group strove to overcome. “The funny thing about Kazan is that, as it’s the capital of Tatarstan, the Tatar public tend to like mostly Tatar singers. We were like some kind of circus for them. Breaking onto Moscow stages in 2006 was a really big step for us – people started to say we were musicians and not just a circus, we were getting real respect,” says Vladimir.

A subsequent string of gigs around Russia earned Jukebox many fine reviews, as well as a prize from pop heroine Alla Pugacheva and the chance to open Elton John’s show in Rostov-on-Don. They are already writing for a third CD, which will come after an album comprising cover versions of well-known Russian rock songs.

Ilya Ivanov, the Trio’s rhythmic engine, is optimistic about future prospects. “We’re hoping to collaborate with a suitable record label, which can help us produce great albums.” And in the long term, he makes no secret of lofty ambitions: “We want to become famous and be like rock stars all over the world – at least like The Beatles! I want to travel and perform in many different countries. And I think it is really possible, because I believe in the power of music.”

The Jukebox Trio take music down to its basic elements, focusing on the purity and versatility of the human voice – no instruments required. An online video for their song ‘So… Let Me Know’ emphatically illustrates this concept, as the group are shown smashing guitars into splinters at the tune’s climax. Don’t expect that to happen at every show, but, as Vladimir says, “you’ll be put in a good mood”.

Published in The Moscow Times, 9/6/09 - click here for original.

Brazilian culture at a high temperature in Russia

2009-06-04T14:00:00.003+04:00

A close circle of people is singing and chanting under Pushkinsky Most early Sunday evening. In the centre, two at a time duck, dive, feint and sway in hypnotising fashion, while enchanting vocal drones, drums and bow-like berimbaus provide the perfect musical accompaniment. It’s a weekly gathering of Moscow’s capoeira enthusiasts, disciples of the Afro-Brazilian dance that has witnessed growing international popularity in recent years.

Russia is part of the trend. In 1995, two instructors from the INBI world culture organisation were travelling the globe on a quest for knowledge; it was in San Francisco that they first encountered capoeira. Absorbed by the vibrancy of the art, they conceived a plan to invite Brazilian gurus to Moscow and returned home with instruments, information and an iron will to make it happen.

Fast-forward three years and the Capoeira Federation of Russia was officially registered. The first All-Russian seminar on capoeira took place in Moscow: masters from Santos, Sao Paulo and Guarujá were joined by eager participants from all over Russia for the four-day event. They came from St Petersburg, Bryansk, Krasnodar, Ufa and even the Ukrainian cities of Kiev and Dnipropetrovsk.

Since then, interest has blossomed. All-Russian seminars are a yearly event every May, with talented students selected to train with leading teachers in Brazil. Schools have been established in several cities.

Moscow’s Grupo Axe Capoeira centre, located in an anonymous sports hall on a police compound in the heart of the capital, has expanded to include a wide cultural programme. Wandering in there any day of the week, one is equally likely to find Portuguese language lessons, percussion workshops or rehearsing bossa nova groups – in addition to ju-jitsu classes for all ages and abilities.

Yan Yurievich Shastitko, the school’s founder and chief coach, says it is his mission to help students become “excellent capoeiristas and, most of all, good people.”

“Capoeira is an instrument people can use for personal development and self-discovery. It is my personal responsibility to help people become free. And every person must decide for themselves what they want to do; it must be a free choice.”

“Capoeira is communication between two people through body language. People play in the circle and get acquainted with each other – in a hard, physical, beautiful way, with a lot of emotion. They express emotions through their bodies and movement.”

And he believes study of the martial art must be partnered with full cultural engagement. “I really love music. It is the universal language that can be understood by all people, all races. In Russia, for example, there are many people who engage in physical training without music – I think this is very bad. It’s capoeira castration!”

“Without music it doesn’t have energy; when you start learning capoeira your body becomes very tired. But after six months, for example, you will feel rhythm. And when your body feels rhythm, you don’t get tired as quickly – you want to carry on, to play. The songs in capoeira have information – about art, life, love, relationships, freedom, about everything! It’s a very important part of education. People must study the Portuguese language with the music and the dancing.”

Ekaterina Beresneva, a journalist and art gallery assistant, takes capoeira classes at her local fitness club. “The sports centre offers a few different things, but I wanted to try capoeira because it sounded exotic. I think it’s popular because it’s a very dynamic dance, with the sounds of great Brazilian music. It’s a mix of movements from nature – you move like some kind of animal, like a monkey perhaps, it’s really fun. And I think it’s very good exercise.”

“In Russia we have such a culture that all others can become part of it,” she continues. “Everybody loves everything. Capoeira is popular because Russians are very open to all cultures. It’s very easy to fall in love with.” Part of the boom in popularity is attributed by Yan Yurievich to the film Only The Strong, first shown on TV around ten years ago.

Yurievich, who been to Brazil five times, says another main aspect of his mission is to cheer people up: “There is not much sun in Russia – it is very cold. I wanted to bring some warm Brazilian life to the country.”

Published in Russia Now (Brazilian edition), June 2009.

Earth Patriot

2009-05-13T14:00:00.006+04:00

“I always wanted to be a cosmonaut,” states Fyodor Yurchikhin without hesitation. “When I was a small boy, I jumped from a second floor balcony because I thought I was Gagarin! My father jumped after me, it all happened very fast, and luckily we were both OK.”

Born in January 1959, Yurchikhin grew up during the heyday of the Soviet space programme. Yuri Gagarin’s maiden flight in 1961 held mythical significance: “When we played in our yard, we would pretend to be Russian cosmonauts,” he recounts. “We knew all their names and I can’t tell you how much it meant to us. Gagarin was more than a name. For us, what he did was something like the impossible. He was an icon, a symbol – ‘Wow, Gagarin!’”

Yurchikhin’s face still glows with childlike enthusiasm as he talks, springing up to illustrate the balcony scenario or act out the process of spacewalking. His two missions to the International Space Station, in 2002 and 2007, amount to over 200 days, with nearly 19 hours working in open space.

“My first time on the ISS, the biggest problem was orientation. There’s no gravity, everything is floating around; until you adjust to that, you have to move very slowly, holding onto things.”

“When I first looked down out at the earth, I realised it’s impossible to understand this view from pictures. It’s black of course, but when you get there you see it’s not a normal black – it has infinite depth. I wanted to touch the colours, they are so bright and clear. No photos can convey the beauty of that sight.”

Nevertheless, Yurchikhin keenly uses orbital photography to spread his ideals for the future of humanity. His work has been exhibited around Russia. “The name of my gallery is ‘Our House on Earth,’ because everybody should understand it’s very small. Yes, very big for us, but in reality very small. You need to keep your house clean and beautiful, we need to understand this; otherwise, we may destroy the house. It’s terrible.”

He applies this approach to both environmental and social concerns, as well as international relations. “People need to understand each other. We need to stop settling problems with weapons and war. It’s quite probable there is life on other planets. I think contact could be valuable for both sides if we understand and respect each other. But this doesn’t happen on earth, a planet where people have been living together for thousands of years.”

“I think the international space programme can be used as a model for the future: many different countries, different languages and different levels of technology all working together. America and Russia in particular have very different ways of thinking. For example, there’s an old joke that when the Americans found it was a problem to write in space, they spent a million dollars to invent a special space pen. The Russians used pencils!”

Yurchikhin picks a potent analogy to look at these varying national standards. In the first class at school, children arrive knowing different things. Even if some start off being able to count higher numbers, for example, this doesn’t mean they’ll finish in first place. “I don’t know how we will graduate the ISS school. Russia and America too should understand we are all still in school, we must continue and share knowledge.”

“If we’re doing complex work in a difficult area, like cosmic research, it is very useful to work with others. Views can become clouded. Including different people can bring new perspectives to old problems.”

Looking to the future, Yurchikhin believes the next step is colonisation. “We should go to a planet, build something and live there. The moon should come first, then possibly Mars. We should also continue developing ideas for a new spacecraft.”

On April 12, Russian Cosmonauts’ Day, the Memorial Museum of Cosmonautics opened its refurbished doors in northeast Moscow. It is situated beneath a towering, angular monument with a soaring rocket at the peak. More than 3,000 exhibits include a life-size replica of the space station Mir, Gagarin’s legendary orange spacesuit and all kinds of lunar vehicles – in short, a fascinating stroll through Russian space history.

“It’s a good idea,” says Yurchikhin. “I hope lots of kids will go. I love meeting children who have this dream, just like I did. Maybe now more people will talk about cosmonautics as well – it’s not as popular as it used to be.”

Again emphasising the spirit of unity he so desires, Yurchikhin remains an optimist at heart. “For a while I wanted the Russian space programme to be number one, but perhaps now we should change our minds now. It’s better if our national programme is part of a wider international project. Being first isn’t important. We’re all going to fly into space together.”

“Going to space, every one of us went as a patriot of our own country. But we came back as patriots of our earth.”

RIR Dossier
Fyodor Nikolaevich Yurchikhin was born on 3/1/1959 in the autonomous Republic of Ajara, Georgia. On graduating high school in 1976, he entered the Moscow Aviation Institute. He qualified as a mechanical engineer in 1983 and joined Energia, the Russian Space Corporation, where he rose to the position of lead engineer. In November 1999 he completed his basic cosmonaut training course. In January 2000, he started training for the ISS programme. In October 2002, Yurchikhin flew aboard STS-112; his first space flight logged a total of 10 days, 19 hours, and 58 minutes. His second flight, in April 2007, was a 197-day tour of duty commanding the Expedition-15 mission aboard the ISS. He was honoured as a Hero of Russia on October 23, 2008. Yurchikhin also holds a PhD in economics and enjoys reading, sports, stamp-collecting and space history.

Published in Russia Now / Russia & India Report, May 2009, with The Economic Times (India).

Moscow: the new home of jazz

2009-04-29T18:30:00.001+04:00

From hard bop to the new school, jazz has found a haven in post-communist Russia.

Moscow's jazz scene is a creature of many faces. Take the comical shenanigans of one big band in a dive of an expat bar, with all members clad in matching mustard-yellow tassled jackets and an old hippy guitarist who looks (and probably thinks) like he's still in the Swinging 60s, or a pastiche Cuban group belting out Santana covers to an empty room. Contrast that with heavy-hitters like saxophonist Igor Butman, a popular figure who cut his teeth in the US for a decade, or Alex Rostotsky, an electric bass player whose latest CD features adventurous adaptations of works by Modest Mussorgsky. Right down to a highly flamboyant yet equally creative acapella vocal trio called Jukebox, it's all here.

According to Cyril Moshkov, editor of jazz.ru, Russia's only jazz magazine, there are about 1,000 jazz players in the city (official population 10.5 million – in reality it's more). They fall into three generations: the old guard, who favour austere hard bop and other mainstream styles; the middlemen, now in their 30s and 40s, 80% of whom left Russia to pursue careers abroad (interestingly, many went to Israel); and, finally, the young cats, still paying their dues and finding a way into the murky world of jazz music.

Russia's first jazz concert took place in October 1922 at the behest of Valentin Parnakh, an enigmatic all-rounder who wrote poetry, choreographed ballet and played piano. He brought the first jazz records and instruments to the country from Paris. The music was thereafter repressed in various ways throughout the Soviet Union – including the period of Butman's emergence in the 70s and 80s, when non-state-sanctioned concerts could see musicians or promoters locked up. During jam sessions with visiting American groups, Russians played with their foreign peers but were not allowed to exchange words. Government inspectors would ensure two violations resulted in dismissal from the state booking agency, which provided musicians with all their work.

Much has changed since those dark days. One look at the monthly gig listings on jazz.ru's information portal will show abundant choices any given night – and not only local groups, but a host of international names as well. Tessa Souter, a British vocalist who lives in New York, recently played a couple of dates at the Union of Composers and was happy to sing the praises of her Russian backing band: "They were great. There's something different about the way Russians swing, it's wonderful. Musicians have a lot of soul like the Russian people."

Financial woe may have hit the country hard, but that hasn't stopped a new jazz club from popping up right in the historic centre of Moscow – the V&J, situated on Old Arbat, a popular tourist promenade. "People are becoming more interested in music and art, not material things, so I don't think the crisis makes a difference" says Victor Voitov, the V half of "V&J". "We wanted to open a place where Moscow's high-level musicians can let new people into jazz music."

Even after three months of pretty solid concertgoing, there's still a lot left for me to see.

Published @ guardian.co.uk, 29/4/09 - click here for original.

Igor Butman: A Jazz Leader for the New Era

2009-03-25T13:00:00.003+03:00

Hailed by none other than Bill Clinton as one of the world’s greatest living saxophone players, Igor Butman is an icon of Russian musical life. Born in St Petersburg in 1961, he took up the instrument at 15 with encouragement from his jazz aficionado father, a keen musician who worked by day and gigged by night.

“My father told me about jazz. I hadn’t actually heard much, because I’d been listening mostly to Soviet pop, but my dad was an amateur drummer and singer who often played at weddings and in restaurants,” Butman explains. “He was really the person who got me into jazz music, and music itself.”

Jazz in Russia goes back to the 1920s. According to Butman, it has been through various blurry periods of development, as well as confusion with classical music. The Soviet regime’s strict control of artistic liberty presented both opportunities and challenges: “As soon as I started playing sax, I was able to perform in jazz clubs around St Petersburg. I travelled with different groups to places like Moscow, Latvia, Lithuania and Ukraine, but I wasn’t allowed to go abroad because they thought I might escape.”

“In Soviet times, the state-owned booking agency would provide you with concerts – it didn’t matter if you sold out or had two people in the audience, they would still get you 14 concerts a month,” says Butman. However, despite supplying a steady stream of work, this closed system placed considerable constraints on creativity. “I put together my own band, but I couldn’t get a job because I wasn’t in the state booking agency. It wasn’t easy to get professional status and be able to travel. So I decided to go to the United States and try the normal way.”

In 1987, Butman arrived in Boston to study at the renowned Berklee College of Music. “I was already the best in the Soviet Union and I knew my limitations,” recalls the saxophonist. “I had to study, play and be in competition with the best in the world. After graduating, I moved to New York for a few years, before coming back to Russia permanently in 1997.”

It was on his return to Moscow that Butman’s career really took off. He began to establish himself as the leading light in Russian jazz, recording several CDs – including his most recent release, Magic Land, which features theme tunes from Soviet cartoons and an elite group of American players.

Russia’s jazz scene today is a far cry from its state in the former USSR, when you could be thrown in jail for holding unauthorised concerts. Butman is quick to acknowledge how “everything has changed,” especially in terms of healthy competition in the musical world. “It’s a harder life for us in a way. There’s a lot of competition between orchestras and groups, which I like. You have to keep improving and really provide something interesting and unique; you have to think about what you can give to venues or concert halls.”

“Now there are a lot more good young musicians. A lot of things are happening all around Russia – every town has its own interesting scene. It’s not only Moscow, but Novosibirsk, St Petersburg, Vladivostok, Rostov-on-Don, Yaroslavl. There are also a lot more jazz clubs competing with each other, and they are able to bring in the best musicians from all over the world.”

The sense of anticipation when a big act hits town is exciting for Butman, who has been organising his own jazz festival for nine years. “It’s called Triumph of Jazz. I’m trying to find new names and give them the opportunity of playing here, as well as bringing old stars who made a revolution in jazz.”

“I think there’s a big market for that in Russia. People are interested in jazz, and they’ve heard about me – a lot of people know me, so they can place trust in what I’m going to play or the people I’m going to bring, even if they don’t know who it is. There’s a big sense of curiosity, because it’s not every day we have something so special. A lot of different people come to the concerts.”

Butman’s status as something of a jazz celebrity in Russia has built up from numerous angles, not least his powerful and distinctive voice on tenor saxophone. In addition to running a club and the Triumph festival, he also hosted the show ‘Jazzophrenia’ on national television.

Most recently, he embarked on an ambitious eight-concert US tour with the Crossover Concerto, a collaboration featuring classical maestro Yuri Bashmet and the composer Igor Raykhelson. “We have my big band and a chamber orchestra, the Moscow Soloists, conducted by Yuri Bashmet. It’s a combination of different music: they play classical pieces, with a little jazz influence, and we play some classical in our jazz way. It’s challenging, but it sounds so good – for us it’s just incredible.”

The current vitality of Russian jazz receives no better endorsement than the fact Butman does not see a reason for returning to America: “I don’t have to live there. Of course I really liked it, but I like to live in Russia just as much.” Habitually sold-out gigs indicate this feeling is mutual.

Published in Russia Now, March 2009, w/ Washington Post (USA) & Daily Telegraph (UK).

In Conversation with Chris Potter

2009-03-23T18:34:00.004+03:00

Chris Potter may once have been a favorite among jazz insiders rather than the general public. But high-profile gigs with Herbie Hancock and others, as well as more than a dozen leader dates, have brought him center stage in the jazz world. He talks with Frederick Bernas.

“Music definitely gets to a different place when you’re playing live,” states Chris Potter. The saxophonist sits nonchalantly in the lobby of a London hotel, as conventional Muzak drones ironically in the background. He is due at Ronnie Scott’s club for a gig with Underground, his bass-less quartet that integrates the funkier side of jazz with a strong progressive aesthetic. “This energy thing builds up with the audience and it’s very exciting,” Potter continues, referring to Underground’s Follow The Red Line: Live at the Village Vanguard (Sunnyside, 2007), the third live CD he has released.

“When I established this band I was thinking about trying to use some of the influences I hadn’t expressed so explicitly before—like how much time I’ve spent with James Brown and Stevie Wonder, later Miles and the whole funk thing. It also feels like sometimes we get into this real kind of harmolodic Ornette-funk thing. There are a lot of influences that come and go, but I think we’re figuring out how to put them together in our own way, through our own four personalities.”

The project sees Potter joined by Craig Taborn on Fender Rhodes, guitarist Adam Rogers and drummer Nate Smith—a combination he feels is starting to develop very fruitfully. “They’re all really strong musicians; I don’t have to think about whether they’ll be able to play something I’ve written or not, I know they’ll come up with something unique. They all have such interesting backgrounds. Craig’s frame of reference is huge: he’s way into a lot of stuff I don’t know anything about, punk bands and this and that—a completely different world. And I hear that in things he goes for sometimes, he’s able to somehow bring it in. Nate originally started to play in church—you know, gospel—and he’s got this thing when it’s funk, but it’s really warm and easy to play with. It’s not that mechanical machine thing at all, it’s really soulful and pretty mad to mix with Craig. And Adam has so many different ways he can go and so many beautiful sonic things he does with the guitar. He’s amazing at finding some part within the whole matrix of the thing that really makes it come alive, besides playing great solos. And then I try and just not get in the way!”

This faithfully minimalist, open attitude fosters a creative chemistry that manifests itself in all kinds of ways: sparks fly at live shows. For Potter, the group represents an open book of possibilities that help him to “grow” and “figure out” how he can pull together all his strands of thought into a coherent musical statement. “For a while, I made a rule for myself that I wasn’t going to write anything longer than a page for Underground,” he explains. “I’ve since broken that rule, but it’s still that kind of bare minimum of material: just a mood and some ideas to work with, but not too much. I want to hear what they bring into it. If there’s some specific idea I have for a tune and it’s not going in that direction, maybe I’ll say something, but I prefer to say as little as possible. It’s an organic approach, as much as I can do—I don’t want to stifle it.”

Despite heavy demand for Underground (this interview took place at the start of a significant European tour), Potter always finds time to work with a wide variety of other leaders, from Herbie Hancock to Ari Hoenig. With 14 albums under his own name, the saxophonist would be perfectly entitled to follow many of his peers by focusing on personal projects. It’s a complicated situation, a “funny balance,” according to Potter. “I get a lot out of playing with a lot of different people, but it’s a question I ask myself: am I shooting myself in the foot, in a way, by doing too much other stuff? I don’t know exactly what the right answer is, but I can imagine just wanting to be on the road a little less than I have been, because it’s been a lot. But, on the other hand, if somebody calls you for a really good gig, it seems a very strange thing to say no. You know how musicians are, dying for a good gig, wondering if anyone’s ever going to call you—you’ve always got to have that in the back of your mind,” he states modestly.

Furthermore, he is quick to acknowledge lessons learned from sideman experience—starting right back at age 18, when he played hard bop with Charlie Parker’s long-time trumpet partner Red Rodney. “That was a real introduction to what it was like being on the international jazz scene. And it was great playing with someone who’s a master of the bebop language as a real first generation thing. It was really something special to be playing Bird lines with him, knowing he played them with Bird.”

In terms of band leadership, Potter talks about “how to approach music” as being a key facet of what he’s picked up. Major mentors include Paul Motian and Dave Holland: “Everyone has a different approach, like the way Dave Holland is. He has a very methodical way of working through ideas, which has been very influential to me. But on the other side, working a lot with Paul Motian has been useful as a completely opposite thing: as un-analytical as possible. Freedom. Just going with your aesthetic instinct and not at all thinking about whether you’re painting inside the lines or not. So, between those extremes, and a lot of other people too, I feel it’s been very useful for my overall approach to music and leading bands.”

Both these musical ideologies prevail in Potter’s recent work. As well as ongoing development of the freewheeling Underground, his 2007 release Song For Anyone (Sunnyside) features a series of compositions for “tentet”—a group including instruments not normally seen in a jazz context, such as strings. “That was something I’d been wanting to do for years and years,” he explains. “I never really studied that much composition in college, definitely not orchestration. It was a little bit like I didn’t really know what I was doing, but I just went for it anyway. It was so exciting for me to hear real people playing it and hear it actually come true, it makes me want to do more someday. I haven’t yet, but when I listen to that record I think ‘how did I manage to get all that work done?’ It was a way for me to explore a new compositional side.”

Making the album also planted the idea of ‘spontaneous composition’ in Potter’s mind. It entails a slightly refined, contextualised approach to traditional improvisation, as he was required to view solos as only one part of a broader written structure—rather than a separate entity existing of its own accord. “I think I improved as an improviser by thinking about the composition from start to finish, not just improvisation that goes somewhere on its own. I had to think about it beforehand, and have a chance to plan what’s going to go where, lead to what, and when. It helped me think more compositionally as an improviser.”

Another knock-on effect has been fresh interest in “spontaneous group composition,” an idea he has been exploring with Underground. “I’ve been thinking about my role in that kind of situation—how to add what’s necessary and get out of the way when it’s not necessary. It’s a tricky thing.” How free? “It doesn’t matter if it has a form or not, we’re still trying to be as free with it as we can—whatever that means. Even when it’s within a certain set of guidelines, the feeling that it’s creative and growing comes from the freedom. Maybe choosing to play the written material sometimes, and judiciously choosing when to go away from that, doesn’t make it seem any less free than completely free playing.”

Potter’s album Gratitude (Verve, 2001) saw the saxophonist pay eloquent tributes to his key inspirators on the instrument—Sonny Rollins, John Coltrane, Joe Henderson, Eddie Harris and Ornette Coleman included. When asked which of his own contemporaries Potter draws on, he spoke of a mutual cross-pollination they all use to raise the bar. “I really enjoy David Binney, the writing especially. Also Mark Turner, Chris Cheek, Seamus Blake, Josh Redman, whoever’s at a high level. But it’s funny, I think it’s just a different feeling we all tend to have about people who are from our same generation versus people who are older. We’re all looking up to Wayne [Shorter] and whoever and thinking ‘wow’—you know, he just doesn’t seem human! But I think it’s just a natural thing, a generational thing. In some way, I feel like with all the other saxophone players of my age it’s more like trading ideas back and forth a little bit. I think we all influence each other, or at least they influence me!”

This reflects the rich unity of New York’s contemporary scene, which is becoming increasingly vital amidst the music industry’s apparent impending doom. As major record labels are forced to downscale or completely abandon jazz-related activities, little collectives of like-minded artists are coming to the fore—think Dave Douglas’s Greenleaf Music or John Zorn’s flourishing Tsadik imprint. The trend has made its way overseas: budding independent operations are rising in London, with musicians eager to work together and spread a shared message. Potter asserts that, of course, “we just want to make music, not spend time on all that admin stuff,” but also understands that “most people are accepting they have to do a bit of both, especially when they’re starting off.”

His vision for the future (he’s still a thirty-something) sits on the principle of a perpetually open mind: “What any artist is ultimately trying to do is express their view of life and what it feels like to be alive. I definitely want to approach music in a way that, until the end of my life, it will be growing, and I’ll still be growing—I hope I’ll be open enough to react to what’s happening and smart enough to recognise something good when I see it or avoid something bad when I see it. That day-to-day search for inspiration isn’t even really a search, it’s just recognising it when it happens.”

With an Underground studio album freshly recorded, a customarily busy gig schedule and a collaboration featuring Dave Holland, Gonzalo Rubalcaba and Eric Harland in the pipeline, 2009 looks like it will be another good one for Chris Potter. Speaking again of the Underground band, he is clearly enthused: “I feel that now it’s starting to find its own language, which is exciting for me to be part of. It keeps getting better and better.” Long may this continue.

Published @ jazz.com, 23/3/09 - click here for original.

Got couch?

2009-03-05T13:00:00.003+03:00

Moscow. Tuesday night. Tiki Bar. A large group of people talking and mingling: nomads, students, businessfolk and a few token randomers who don’t really know where they are. Nothing unusual about that – unless you remember many of them had never met in person, but convened online via www.couchsurfing.com.

What is it?

CouchSurfing was set up by a group of four friends in 2003. Their goal was to cultivate international dialogue by creating an open hospitality network in the name of cross-cultural understanding, with free accommodation an added bonus. Six years later, membership has swelled to nearly one million people, and you can find couches to surf the world over – from Baghdad to Birmingham, Caracas to Cape Town.

“I’d often find myself in some strange city, longing for cool people to hang out with,” writes founder Casey Fenton on the site. “I knew there were interesting people, all around me, with stories to tell. I’d wish there was a better way of making contact with these folks.” In January 2004, the project came to life with a global launch.

Local mix

Russia’s first CS members joined soon after, but the idea didn’t really take off for another couple of years. Now there are more than 8,500. The Moscow community, like many other city-based groups, is close-knit yet devoutly open-minded and welcoming. “Having come to Moscow by myself, and not having any family or friends here, CS has allowed me to learn about and explore my new home with a really versatile group of people,” says Diana Agazatian, 26, from the U.S.

“From what I can see, Moscow may be one of the best CS-represented cities in the world. It has one of the largest numbers of active members, who actually participate in the weekly activities available,” Diana continues. A quick glance at the CS Moscow group’s online forum will show you exactly what she means: new posts spring up on a daily basis, with myriad possibilities on offer.

In addition to the weekly gatherings at Tiki Bar, there are clubbing excursions, film nights, polyglot language meetings, dacha weekend getaways, visits to other cities and all kinds of other parties and social shindigs – including the now legendary Sunday sessions. And you never know who’s going to turn up: oily expat sugar daddies, the smooth-jazz-loving Russian chap who pretends to be British, or, if you’re lucky, an anarcho-hippie priest from the Brezhnev era.

Monastic madness

That’s right – no errors here. He doesn’t come to many meetings, but one of CS Moscow’s mythical figures is a fellow named Father Sergey. His Orthodox living community in the city centre became an unlikely hub for visiting travellers; in exchange for a small role in daily tasks, they received warm hospitality on a purely non-denominational basis. “It was a unique experience, an oasis of real life in the temple of materialism that is Moscow,” said Stefano Puccio, one of more than 60 people who stayed at the monastery.

Due to the church’s more traditional activities, the project is currently on hold. But fear not: there is talk of a restoration for Moscow’s likely summer influx of curious CouchSurfers.

What next?

Closely affiliated with Hospitality Club, another online project of similar nature, CouchSurfing is a modern offshoot of the wanderlust travel ethos that began with the ancient art of hitchhiking – itself the focal point of a flourishing underground subculture across Russia. With a website relaunch lined up to celebrate the million-member milestone, a voluntary management team operating from San Francisco and a massive pool of willing participants, the CS cult looks destined to grow and grow.

“The next step is to develop Russian city-to-city connections, so travellers can build their agenda through a network, as well as more international gatherings,” says Dmitry Sivenkov, a Moscow CS Ambassador. “I think the project is going to keep expanding – in another couple of years, hopefully we will have another million!”

Essential elements
• First of all, hit www.couchsurfing.com and sign up to create a profile. Once you’re done with the membership formalities, get to work on filling out your page and adding some traditionally daft photos.
• After this initial stage, why not get a few mates to join too and leave references for each other? This is a simple, self-sustainable security process for CouchSurfers, which performs the obvious function of making sure people are who they say they are. A couple of solid references mean you’ll be far more likely to receive couch requests, or pick up accommodation when you need it.
• Check out the ‘Groups’ section of the site, where you can find forums dedicated to all the obvious topics and more. The Moscow community is always busy – feel free to introduce yourself, post threads with any questions or see what activities are going on.

Published in element, 5/3/09.

Not-So-Modest Mussorgsky in Moscow

2009-03-04T15:00:00.001+03:00

Jazz.com tries to cover the whole world of jazz, and not just the famous players at the name clubs. This is more than a quest for brotherhood and goodwill, but also driven by a realization that some of today’s most exciting developments are happening outside the US, especially when talented artists mix the jazz sensibility with the best of their local or regional musical culture.

Frederick Bernas, who covers the Moscow jazz scene for us, finds just this in a performance by Alex Rostotsky at the V & J Club in central Moscow. Here Rostotsky, a hot electric bassist in a Jaco mold, takes on the music of Russian composer Modest Mussorgsky (1839-1881). Rostotsky's new CD is still a rare item in the West, but you are encouraged to check out the video here, even if your Russian is rusty.
Ted Gioia [editor]

Jazz and classical music enjoy an unpredictably tempestuous relationship: polar opposites in one sense, yet drawing ever closer in another. The very act of improvisation is alien to many classical players, but jazz musicians often receive a dual upbringing. Contemporary jazz in particular has seen frequent blurring of genre boundaries between the two, with people including Wayne Shorter, Chris Potter, Jacques Loussier and Uri Caine experimentally combining elements of both and compositional techniques growing ever more sophisticated.

Russia is no exception to this rising trend. With its magnificent classical history and fertile developing jazz scene, perhaps that’s no surprise—but it is nevertheless slightly unusual that one of the leading advocates is Alex Rostotsky, an electric bassist who favours a distinctly Jaco-esque fretless fusion sound.

On February 28, Rostotsky presented his new album Pictures at an Exhibition or Promenade with Mussorgsky at the recently opened V & J Club in central Moscow. As the title would suggest, it features jazz interpretations of some of the great Russian composer’s most famous works; Rostotsky is aided by pianist Yakov Okun and Alexander Mashin on drums, with a grand finale featuring the Russian State Symphony Orchestra and original music by Alexander Rosenblatt. An optional DVD to accompany the CD gives a fascinating insight into the making of the final track, a 16-minute sweeping epic that ebbs and flows through the full emotional continuum.

“The music of Mussorgsky is so strong that it invites interpretations and assimilations in other genres,” said Rostotsky in an interview with jazz.ru, Russia’s leading jazz magazine. “Maybe this was the first composition in Russian musical history for jazz trio and symphony orchestra. I dreamt for many years about such an idea. I heard a few seconds of Rosenblatt’s demo recording and immediately understood we had to make the project together.”

The live experience, although lacking an orchestra, nevertheless nearly matched the viscous intensity catalysed by Rosenblatt, Rostotsky and conductor Sergey Skripka in Rosenblatt’s “Concert Fantasia.” The trio’s deft interactions were augmented by Spanish artist Fernando Jimeno Perez, who produced spontaneous sketches to accompany the playing, every stroke projected onto a screen beside the stage. During a couple of quieter moments, the gristly brush of the charcoal even became a musical voice in itself.

“Rich Jew, Poor Jew” sees a klezmer-oriented bass drone slowly build up after Rostotsky’s introduction, before a brief piano interlude and the return of the ostinato and Okun’s harmonically dexterous overlaid solo. He has inherited something of the mathematical, scientific approach from his father Mikhail, a venerable elder statesman of Russian jazz who performed at the V & J on February 26. Mashin cuts loose for a few rounds between crashing dissonant chords, before settling back down to burn menacingly, eerily scraping his cymbals as the track draws to a close.

Rostotsky’s sustained, humming presence is a feature of the record, like an electric current running through the music as he channels the energy of his counterparts. It adds welcome variety to the standard trio palette—his occasional devious intrusions are worth listening out for beneath Mashin’s busy beats and scampering ideas. A fine example is “The Old Castle,” a 10-minute offering where the rhythm section works together to subtly up the ante for Okun’s ponderous, musing solo that understatedly takes its time to say what he wants to say.

The words ‘Mussorgsky’ and ‘post-bop’ in the same sentence may seem an unlikely marriage of conflicting interests. Some conservatives would splutter at the very thought of such a union. However, there is one essential aspect of human nature which must not be forgotten: opposites attract.

Published @ jazz.com, 4/3/09 - click here for original.

Kirill's balancing act

2009-02-06T10:00:00.001+03:00

The new Russian patriarch will need all his diplomatic skills to manage what has become a fractious church.

The Russian Orthodox church's new Patriarch faces several challenges as he comes to power; not least, a fresh wave of questions over the institution's role in everyday life.

A recent poll conducted by the Russian public survey centre, VTsIOM, saw nearly half of respondents express a degree of opposition to the suitability of Orthodox moral standards in modern society. Thirty-five percent went half way, saying some standards were acceptable and others not, while another 14% held all Orthodox practices to be completely outdated. The number of undecideds was 21%, with only 30% believing people should unequivocally stand by the Orthodox moral schema.

While these findings may be indicative rather than definitive, they come at a crucial moment. The popular Patriarch Alexey II, who led a spiritual revival after decades of enforced Soviet atheism, died in early December, setting off a wave of public grief. On 1 February he was replaced by former Metropolitan Kirill, a man whose coverage in the western media has created as many questions as answers. Kirill, the first post-USSR patriarch, must ask himself why people seem to be drifting away so soon after the church's supposed renaissance. What can he do to stanch the flow and win them back?

The first problem stems from the patriarchal election process. The competition was bitter and ugly. Though the candidates themselves were diplomatic, their followers engaged in smear tactics and mudslinging, spreading rumours on the internet and openly defaming opponents. Kirill must immediately cast this aside. His famed PR skills will be put to good use – known as an inspirational orator, he has hosted a weekly national TV show. The nasty campaign has at least produced a decisive victory, with Kirill winning 508 out of 702 votes; he should use this mandate to deal confidently with the challenges facing him.

Questions surround Kirill's relationship with government. He is known for being close to the Kremlin, but observers appear divided over where he could take the church-state relationship. Progressives are aching for him to usher in a new age of independence for the church, but this is unlikely to happen any time soon, if at all. Nevertheless, the critical consensus seems to be that, one way or another, Kirill will be a politically involved patriarch.

In his Christmas speech, Kirill discussed the economic crisis. The dire financial situation means he must be cautious – at least publicly – about how closely he allies himself to Putin's establishment. He has said the relationship should be based on "mutual non-interference in each other's affairs", but the truth of this statement remains to be seen. During these times of falling government popularity and rising prospects of social unrest, Kirill's best tactic would be presenting himself as the detached voice of reason, projecting calmness and hope.

As in all religions, rampant factionalism has plagued the Orthodox church; an institutionally conservative body encompassing hardliners, moderates and more progressive thinkers. It is impossible to keep everyone happy. The issue of ties with the Roman Catholic faith is controversial: while serving as the Orthodox church's director of external relations, Kirill improved relations with the Vatican. His elevation to the patriarchy received words of welcome from the pope himself. However, on the eve of the vote, Kirill had made a wily bid to secure the support of ultraconservatives: he refuted reports that he was set to swiftly convene a papal meeting if he won, saying problematic issues remained to be solved. As the Roman Catholic church is excluded from official status in Russia, this is an area he must navigate extremely carefully – perhaps by continuing to moderate his own conciliatory instincts.

Next, there is the long-standing dispute over Estonia. Following the break-up of the Soviet Union, the country's Orthodox church split in two: the state-endorsed Apostolic Orthodox church, under jurisdiction of the ecumenical patriarchate, and the Estonian Orthodox church, under the Moscow patriarchate. Sour wranglings over which one has territorial rights, including disputes regarding property ownership, have been a dominant issue – and were particularly so for Estonian-born Alexey II. Kirill's reputation as a talented diplomat and skilled negotiator, finely honed during his time at the external relations department, gives him a fresh opportunity to finally make headway.

It seems Patriarch Kirill will be faced by the emerging challenge of reconciling the Russian people with his church's moral compass, in effect redefining its significance for modern times. This won't be easy: under western influence, Russian society is becoming less spiritual and more materialistic. In an intriguing aside, an online public referendum of senior clergymen saw Kirill win by less than 2% in a poll of 76,000 votes, with 41.1% in total. Moreover, the close second was not one of the three final contenders but Metropolitan Daniel of All Japan. Comical this may be, but perhaps it does indeed reflect an appetite for change from an institution which, according to the New York Times, often has the air of an enforced state religion.

Published @ guardian.co.uk, 6/2/09 - click here for original.

Tim Garland - Libra

2009-01-23T15:00:00.002+03:00

The adventurous two-disc Libra features saxophonist Tim Garland heavily entrenched in trio territory. He is joined by rising star Gwilym Simcock on piano and versatile percussionist Asaf Sirkis, with guest appearances from zany guitarist Paul Bollenback and London's Royal Philharmonic Orchestra.

Expansive, well-structured pieces are the record's mainstay, with a tasteful sprinkling of standards. Known for sideman work with names including Chick Corea, Joe Locke, Bill Bruford, and many of the UK's finest, Garland here speaks an advanced compositional language to match his fiery presence on saxes and bass clarinet. As in any group of this nature, the Lighthouse Trio emphasizes personal interaction and mutual exposition, and the intense, flourishing nature of these musical relationships is arguably as important a feature as Garland's writing.

"Frontier," a four-part suite dedicated to Gunther Schuller, incorporates classical influences: the first segment, "SunGod," is a grandiose orchestral introduction sans jazz. Clear lunar connections can be made to Holst's masterpiece, The Planets (1918). Attention shifts in seamless waves between trio and orchestra, with the full ensemble often ebbing and flowing behind solos or suddenly jumping in to punctuate breaks and gaps. The piece runs organically without sounding mechanical, before abruptly ending in the blink of an eye. There's almost not enough time for the mind to process, but here lies the simple beauty of recorded music.

The second CD opens with a live version of "Blue In Green," pleasantly presented without a steady pulse. A couple of steamy Latin numbers evoke the spirit of Corea, particularly "Bajo Del Sol," with its tour de force piano solo climaxing in loud, crashing sheets of rippling chordal deviance. Kenny Wheeler's "Sly Eyes" is playful and adventurous: Simcock's stompy vamp underpins a deft, loping sax melody before another sudden ending via Sirkis' agile brushwork. All three are burning on the penultimate track, "Break In The Weather," as Garland skips and darts and a fierce battle of rhythmic ideas takes place between piano and drums.

Libra is a striking achievement by three leading talents on the contemporary British scene, successfully balancing the intricacies of large ensemble writing with a deep sense of openness and reciprocal understanding.

A Bohemian Dream

2009-01-21T01:00:00.002+03:00

It’s not exactly new news, but the story of the audacious squatter collective currently occupying 39 Clarges Mews must be seen to be believed. Five minutes from Green Park station, the Ritz Hotel and all that goes with it, the Mayfair property is worth a reported £22.5 million.

After stooping low to enter a dusty back-garage-type-area with a makeshift information desk, various bikes and a welding station, I soon realise this is not one, but two connected houses. The first is mostly used as sleeping quarters, while the second serves as nerve centre for the Temporary School of Thought – a freewheeling educational project with all kinds of workshops and sessions on offer.

A quick snoop around is anything but that. It spans four or five floors, with most rooms in reasonable condition but showing obvious signs of disuse. Gutted, gaping concrete cavities glare forlornly up from where majestic fireplaces used to recline, and the occasional window shutter hangs limply from its fittings. Floorboards creak. An aged lift stands dead behind criss-cross gates in a spooky stairwell. As evening approaches and darkness closes in, exploring becomes a game of shadowy surprises – who or what lies behind the next door? A dilapidated bathroom? Another cavernous palatial living space with red fleur-de-lis wallpaper? An improvised cinema? This could be the setting of any B-list horror movie, or, with a little imagination, the most typical British costume drama.

‘Starting a post-capitalist enterprise’ – how’s that for an oxymoronically intriguing workshop title? A shy middle-aged fellow named Mike claims to have done exactly this, but, over the course of nearly two hours, doesn’t actually get round to explaining even vaguely how. According to him, people who created the first companies didn’t have profit in mind: it was the corrupting influence of shareholders which catalysed today’s viciously money-driven market angle and, hence, the onset of capitalism. A colourful dramatis personae including fellow wannabeatniks, one silent note-taking bookish type, a couple of voluble old timers and a Lebanese film producer nevertheless yields a spirited discussion, although by the end we are no closer to formulating an alternative ideology to solve all the world’s problems. Disappointing.

As dusk settles, the house is buzzing. An eager crowd is all ears for a lecture on Palestine; a representative of the amusingly-titled A.S.S. (Association of Squatters Something) presents a step-by-step guide to the art of squatting, from scoping out potential “empties” to prolonging residence by fending bailiffs away; upstairs, in a room with gold trim, ornate hand-painted panelling and ceiling-to-floor mirrors, two enthusiasts play Indian classical music and talk about traditions of the genre. No one pays, no one makes money, knowledge is here for all to enjoy – maybe this is the quintessential post-capitalist enterprise our friend Mike was struggling to define.

Dinner is served: downstairs, everyone is welcomed to the communal eating area. Random artwork adorns the walls. Familiar, unknown and overwhelmingly friendly faces gather round one large table, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world to be sharing scavenged food in a stately mansion with 30 people you’ve never met before. For many of them, it is. Others are mere visitors, passers-by or voyeurs of the lifestyle; those (like me) who fully appreciate the remarkable situation’s cheeky impudence, but probably wouldn’t have the guts or bottle to do something like it. Musicians, artists, climate change activists, nomads, travellers, Swedes, Australians and squat veterans all mix freely – the air is thick with conversation. In the cold, hard, business-powered parallel universe that is central London, this is a refreshing oasis of creativity, freedom and open-minded dialogue.

Someone wake me up already?

Published @ SHOOK.fm, 20/1/09 - click here for original.

The Kremlin's hot and cold war

2009-01-20T01:00:00.006+03:00

They are Russia's two most powerful men: but while Putin negotiated gas supplies, his boss gave virtual skiing advice.

If today's "outline" gas agreement between Ukraine and Russia holds, there will be no doubt who brokered it: Vladimir Putin, Russia's busy ex-president. A week ago, as the crisis peaked, Russia's constitutional head of state, President Dmitri Medvedev, delivered a virtual address from the alpine resort of Sochi. Standing in front of a picturesque mountain backdrop, he spoke about the importance of Russians learning how to relax.

Why was Medvedev, a former chairman of the board at Gazprom – the Russian state energy company at the heart of this ugly dispute – not on the other end of the phone? This glaring question invites a closer investigation into the nature of the relationship between the two most powerful men in Russia.

When he took office in May 2008, doubts were cast on Medvedev's true level of independence from Putin, his predecessor. As Putin's former chief of staff and then deputy prime minister, he was expected by many critics to act as no more than a figurehead for the previous president's continued domination. His pledge to appoint Putin as the constitutional head of government solidified this perception.

However, early interviews seemed to offer hope of a more liberal regime. Medvedev spoke earnestly of the need to tackle corruption and further an agenda of civil and economic freedoms. His status as the first Russian president with no known links to the old Communist party or Soviet secret service was music to western ears.

Any casual glance at Russian papers or TV news bulletins will tell a different story. One person is in control, and it's not Medvedev. The president can often be seen shaking hands with foreign leaders, exchanging gifts or signing treaties – and now, perhaps, in this new hobby of video-blogging to a nation with a 23% internet access rate. It is Vladimir Putin who answers the questions, makes the speeches and outlines policy proposals. And the strangest thing is that nobody even tries to pretend governance happens in any other way: Putin knows, the media knows, the people know. And surely Medvedev knows.

Putin evidently sees no need for the smoke and mirrors of political theatre. He is happy to project his cultivated image as a stoic figure of authority, the heroic leader who revived Russia's global standing and transformed the ailing state into a major emerging power. His popularity ratings are consistently higher than the man who is supposed to hold the keys to the Kremlin, even while they both pointed financial fingers everywhere else amid thousands of Russian job losses.

The situation was compounded in the last months of last year, as Medvedev introduced a package of constitutional reforms that sped through parliamentary approval and were ultimately passed on December 30. Its main feature is an extension of the presidential term from four to six years, applicable from the next election in 2012. Some Kremlin observers believe this was originally drafted during the Putin presidency, and that it is designed to prepare the former KGB operative for a return to power in the long run. Of course, Putin has gone on record to vehemently deny this; but it must be noted that Medvedev's professed anti-corruption ideals have taken a back seat – the constitutional alterations are his only significant legislative achievement from the first eight months in office.

On the other hand, there have been rumblings and rumours from the presidential residence. The Financial Times reported that Medvedev had been moving to distance himself from the idea of a bilateral decision-making process with his prime minister, openly stating he would "not be able to share this responsibility with anyone". This ran contrary to his former emphasis on consultation. Even more overtly, he then went against the previous line to criticise Putin's government for a slow response to the economic crisis. The Putin circle has been tight-lipped, but recent developments regarding the gas negotiations and Medvedev's apparent demotion to blogger-in-chief suggest that something may have happened backstage.

Over the next few months this subtle tug-of-war will be an intriguing story. The Russian government has attempted to gloss over the severity of the financial crisis, but, as its effects increasingly emerge in the public sphere, someone will have to talk about it. Any statements from Putin in the coming days will be significant, as it seems Medvedev has already initiated a little blame game with his supposed number two. This could be the start of a new self-confidence campaign, as the president attempts to assert himself as the face of power; he's even adopted faint echoes of an Obama-style web consultation by opening his blog to moderated comments.

Indeed, Barack Obama will present the next major challenge for Medvedev and Putin. Constitutionally, Obama's Russian counterpart controls foreign policy, but the PM may have something to say about that.

Published at guardian.co.uk, 19/1/09 - click here for original.

My Musical Year

2008-12-30T13:00:00.000+03:00

It's been busy...

Concerts
italics = gigs I played :)
* = gigs I put on

January
[[ exams ]]
18 - Dub From Atlantis + The Hit-Ups; The Croft, Bristol
19 - The Haggis Horns; Native, Bristol
21* - The Blessing; epi bar, Bristol
22 - Ruckus Collective; Mr Wolf's, Bristol
23 - Ruckus Collective; Moles, Bath
25 - Hélélé; Oppo, Bristol
31 - Powerplant w/ Elysian Quartet; St George's, Bristol

February
4* - Spokinn Movement; epi bar, Bristol
7 - Mankala; The Attic, Bristol
9 - Ruckus Collective; Anson Rooms, Bristol
9 - Spokinn Movement; Mr Wolf's, Bristol
12 - The Blessing; Thekla, Bristol
16 - Ruckus Collective; Oppo, Bristol
18 - Ruckus Collective; Joe Public's, Bristol
20 - Roni Size & Reprazent; Thekla, Bristol
21 - Tribal Underground; Tao Bar, Bristol
23 - Ruckus Collective; a beer festival, Bristol
27 - Ruckus Collective; Mr Wolf's, Bristol
28 - Ruckus Collective; The Attic, Bristol (w/ Anomaly + The Scribes)
29 - Ruckus Collective; The Golden Lion, Bristol (w/ CCQ)

March
4 - Ruckus Collective; student ball, Bristol
6 - King Porter Stomp; Tao Bar, Bristol
7 - Ruckus Collective; student ball, Bristol
8 - Mark Wingfield; Avon Gorge Room, Bristol
9 - Kokolo; Mr Wolf's, Bristol
12 - Songwriter Session; The Lansdown, Bristol
14* - Anomaly; The Attic, Bristol (my birthday party!)
16 - Ruckus Collective; Mr Wolf's, Bristol
17* - Mankala; epi bar, Bristol
20 - Sheelanagig; Grain Barge, Bristol
25 - Joe Driscoll + Gideon Conn; Vibe Bar, London
27 - Tony Allen; Jazz Cafe, London
28 - Acoustic Ladyland; Vortex, London
29 - John Scofield; Jazz Cafe, London
30 - Richard Bona; Jazz Cafe, London

April
1 - Robert Mitchell & Omar Puente; St Cyprian's Church, London
4 - Ruckus Collective; Brixton Jamm, London
5 - Ruckus Collective; Bar Sonic, London
6 - Ruckus Collective; Thekla, Bristol (w/ The Apples)
7 - Polar Bear; Ronnie Scott's, London
10 - jam session; Harris jazz bar, Krakow
17 - Sharon Jones & The Dap-Kings; Jazz Cafe, London
18 - Led Bib; QEH Front Room, London
19 - Antibalas Afrobeat Orchestra + The Budos Band; Jazz Cafe, London
20 - Polar Bear; Colston Hall Bar, Bristol
22 - Ruckus Collective; Timbuk2, Bristol
26 - Ruckus Collective; Phoenix, Exeter
28 - Dr Doctor; Joe Public's, Bristol
29 - Ruckus Collective; Mr Wolf's, Bristol
30 - The Zen Hussies; Old Duke, Bristol

May
1 - Talibam! + Ashowka + Sweet Potato; The Croft, Bristol
4 - Ruckus Collective; Jester's, Bristol
8 - Ruckus Collective; The Croft, Bristol (w/ Bizali + Clayton Blizzard)
[[ exams ]]
26 - Edenheight; The Full Moon, Bristol

June
7 - Ruckus Collective; street party, Bristol
8 - Ruckus Collective; live radio session, Bristol
12 - Ruckus Collective; Lakota, Bristol
13 - Ruckus Collective; Mr Wolf's, Bristol
16 - Ruckus Collective; Tiger Tiger, Cardiff
17 - Ruckus Collective; The Croft, Bristol
28 - Ruckus Collective; The Golden Lion, Bristol

July
2 - Kenny Garrett; Ronnie Scott's, London
11 - NORTH SEA JAZZ FESTIVAL, Rotterdam
Charles Lloyd, David S. Ware, Led Bib, Herbie Hancock, Bootsy Collins,
12 - NORTH SEA JAZZ FESTIVAL
Pat Metheny, Victor Wooten, The Bad Plus, David Sanchez, Finn Peters, Wayne Shorter, James Carter
13 - NORTH SEA JAZZ FESTIVAL
Lefties Soul Connection, Rudresh Mahanthappa, Gary Burton, Mark Helias, Brad Mehldau, Maceo Parker, Branford Marsalis, Buddy Guy
16 - Samay; Dingwalls, London
20 - Neil Cowley Trio; Koko, London
21 - BBC Jazz Awards; Mermaid Theatre, London
[[ including: Return To Forever, Guy Barker, Empirical, Fraud, Tommy Smith, Charlie Haden, Tony Kofi, The Blessing... ]]
22 - Hypnotic Brass Ensemble; ICA, London
23 - Youngblood Brass Band; Jazz Cafe, London
27 - Ealing Jazz Festival, London
29 - Grupo Fantasma + Brownout; Jazz Cafe, London
30 - Portico Quartet; Rough Trade East, London
31 - Hot 8 Brass Band; Cargo, London

August
6 - Ruckus Collective; The Old Blue Last, London
15 - Ruckus Collective; The Griffin, Frome
16 - Ruckus Collective; The Yardbird, Birmingham
17 - Ruckus Collective; party, nr Brighton
19 - Ruckus Collective; The Croft, Bristol
20 - Maceo Parker; Pigalle Club, London
23 - Hélélé / Edenheight; Old Duke Jazz Festival, Bristol
24 - Compadres; The Tobacco Factory, Bristol
27 - Ruckus Collective; Mr Wolf's, Bristol (open mic)
28 - Ruckus Collective; Ride Cafe, Plymouth (w/ The Scribes)
29 - Ruckus Collective; The Good Ship, London

September
4 - Roots Manuva; Rough Trade, London
4 - The Apples; Cargo, London
11 - Ruckus Collective; Joe Public's, Bristol (w/ Toyface + The Hats)

October
2 - Clayton Blizzard; The Junction, Bristol
22 - Arun Ghosh; Vortex, London
23 - Adam Waldmann Quartet; Charlie Wright's, London

November
6 - Jim Hart + jam session; Charlie Wright's, London
7 - Spokinn Movement; Ginglik, London
13 - Spokinn Movement; Pangea Project, London
[[ London Jazz Festival starts ]]
14 - Ken Vandermark, Barry Guy, Mark Sanders; Vortex, London
15 - Bill Frisell; Barbican Centre, London
16 - Richard Galliano & Gonzalo Rubalcaba; Queen Elizabeth Hall, London
17 - Chris Potter; Ronnie Scott's, London
18 - Robert Glasper; Cargo, London
19 - Herbie Hancock; Barbican Centre, London
20 - Courtney Pine; Barbican Centre, London
21 - Matthew Herbert Big Band + José James; Royal Festival Hall, London
22 - Chucho Valdés; Barbican Centre, London
23 - Biréli Lagrène, Martin Taylor; Queen Elizabeth Hall, London
[[ end of London Jazz Festival ]]
24 - a concert featuring works of Morton Feldman and Earle Brown, taking place as part of the Mark Rothko exhibition at Tate Modern, London

December
4 - Erik Truffaz; 16 Tons, Moscow
5 - The Bad Plus; 16 Tons, Moscow
12 - jazz showcase, Moscow

Ruckus Collective
The band really took off in 2008, playing over 30 gigs (actually only up til August/September), visiting a few different places and recording a full-length studio album, Stop, Drop, Dance!, during a crazy period after uni exams in June. Earlier in the year we also self-produced a five-track EP, Rise of The Ruckusaurus. Apart from that I played the odd function gig here and there around Bristol, and plenty of jams - always good fun.
www.myspace.com/ruckuscollective

Journalism
I had quite a few articles published throughout the year, writing for publications including London Tourdates (LTD), Jazzwise, All About Jazz (AAJ) and Fly. Not sure if anyone's going to check these out, but here's a list (in order of publishing):

28/2/08 - CD: The Blessing, All Is Yes [AAJ]
29/3/08 - Live: Acoustic Ladyland @ Vortex, London [AAJ]
8/4/08 - Live: Richard Bona @ Jazz Cafe, London [Fly]
9/4/08 - Live: John Scofield @ Jazz Cafe, London [AAJ]
15/4/08 - Live: Tony Allen and Antibalas @ Jazz Cafe, London [Fly]
19/4/08 - Live: Polar Bear @ Ronnie Scott's, London [AAJ]
23/4/08 - Live: Robert Mitchell & Omar Puente @ St. Cyprian's, London [AAJ]
15/5/08 - Interview: 'These Acoustics Can Electrify' - Pete Wareham (Acoustic Ladyland) [LTD]
15/5/08 - Live: Antibalas and The Budos Band @ Jazz Cafe, London [LTD]
24/5/08 - CD: James Carter, Present Tense [AAJ]
30/5/08 - CD: Ponto de Equilíbrio, Abre a Janela [Fly]
21/6/08 - Live: The Heliocentrics / Flying Lotus @ Venn Festival, Bristol [Fly]
9/7/08 - Live: Kenny Garrett @ Ronnie Scott's, London [Jazzwise]
11/7/08 - CD: Blink, Blink [LTD]
21/7/08 - Live: North Sea Jazz Festival 2008 [Jazzwise]
22/7/08 - Live: Latin Funk Spectacular to hit Jazz Cafe [Fly]
24/7/08 - Live: Neil Cowley Trio @ Koko, London [Jazzwise]
24/7/08 - Interview: 'What's In A Name?' - Neil Cowley [LTD]
31/7/08 - Live: North Sea Jazz Festival 2008 [AAJ]
8/8/08 - Live: Samay at Dingwalls, London [LTD]
8/8/08 - CD: Polar Bear, Polar Bear [LTD]
22/8/08 - Interview: 'Mercury Rising For Hang Men' - Portico Quartet [LTD]
27/8/08 - CD: Avishai Cohen, Gently Disturbed [AAJ]
5/9/08 - Live: Maceo Parker @ Pigalle Club, London [LTD]
1/10/08 - Interview: Taking Off - James Morton [Jazzwise]
3/10/08 - CD: Alex Wilson, Salsa Con Soul [Fly]
4/10/08 - Interview: '77 Not Out' - Omara Portuondo [Fly]
24/11/08 - Interview: 'Freedom First, History Later' - Manuel Mengis [AAJ]
2/12/08 - Live: London Jazz Festival 2008 [AAJ]
21/12/08 - Live: Moscow City Jazz Festival 2008 [AAJ]

Broadcasting
While I was in Bristol, I had a weekly show on BURST Radio called 'Off The Hook'. It was a really cool experience and I played a lot of different tunes, as well as being joined by several guests from the local music scene. I won't go into detail here, as this is already too long, but you can see the myspace page for info and playlists. [Some of my friends have taken it over this year, as I'm not attending uni at the moment, so tune in!]

Many thanks to anyone who's had a look at this post - all the best wishes for Christmas and the New Year!

peace,
frederick

Moscow City Jazz Festival 2008

2008-12-21T13:00:00.000+03:00

City Jazz Festival
December 4-5, 2008
16 Tons
Moscow, Russia

Erik Truffaz
December 4

Swiss trumpeter Erik Truffaz, a moderately well-known figure on the international tour circuit, surely counts Russia as a favorite gigging destination. This concert, in a popular pub-cum-music-club called 16 Tons, saw him welcomed by a highly enthusiastic young crowd--a far cry from the standard demographic at most similar events in the UK. Despite lengthy delays in reaching the city after landing at the airport, Truffaz and his quartet played with similar vigor, whipping up euphoric grooves based on relatively simple melodic and harmonic ideas. His effective cross-section of jazz and popular music is the main source of his mainstream appeal, although the live show was nevertheless largely sans gimmicks save for the drummer's momentary dabbling with electronic randomness. Obvious references can be made to the late work of Miles Davis, so it's not particularly original, but the band was enjoyable to watch and Truffaz can certainly look forward to many happy returns to city and country.

The Bad Plus with Wendy Lewis
December 5

Music by Stravinsky, Ornette Coleman and the three band members was on the bill in a typically distinctive set from The Bad Plus. Two things let them down. First, the sound engineer: Ethan Iverson's piano was far too low for the instrumental tunes, meaning it struggled for leverage against drummer Dave King's trademark scampering rhythms and skittery beats. A bigger, balanced sound to match the players' personalities was needed. The band's inclusion of indie rock singer Wendy Lewis for recent tours and the upcoming album has raised many eyebrows, and justifiably so. Her presence, although it clearly dominated the sound check, did not lend matching gravity to the overall performance--with a limited vocal range and negligible on-stage charisma, it felt like she was getting in the way more often than not, distracting from the fine creative work of Iverson, King and bassist Reid Anderson. The group's desire to explore new territory is understandable--even after a series of highly acclaimed trio records--but one couldn't help thinking they might have made a better choice of vocalist.

Photo Credit
Elmira Kuznetsova

Published at allaboutjazz.com, 21/12/08 - click here for original.

London Jazz Festival 2008

2008-12-02T13:00:00.002+03:00

London, England
November 14-23, 2008

Ken Vandermark, Barry Guy, Mark Sanders
The Vortex
November 14

In a meticulously unplanned concert, the music often seemed like a sonic battle between these three renowned improvisers. Sporting a black-fitted tee and a hairstyle that could be straight from the Police Academy films, Vandermark was the dominant voice. On tenor saxophone and occasionally clarinet, his signature wailing, guttural, distorted screams interchanged with lithely melodic phrases and deft percussive passages. Sanders and Guy were largely in the background, providing a constant stream of ideas and demonstrating why they are so highly regarded amongst the European avant garde. Guy in particular employed a number of extended techniques, utilizing all parts of his five-string double bass and performing on-the-job customizations such as jamming a drumstick under the strings, or using a soft-headed beater to produce gentle ripples of sound during quieter movements. Certainly a spectacular opening for the promising festival program, it would be hard for any subsequent performance to surpass the sheer creative intensity on display this Friday night.

Bill Frisell
Barbican Centre
November 15

The idea of a band playing live to accompany films is becoming very fashionable: Courtney Pine and Steven Bernstein are, along with Frisell, artists who have experimented with the concept. Frisell's trio tonight provided the soundtrack for a series of short pieces, from abstract insectile cartoons to a couple of delightful Buster Keaton slapsticks. With such a volume of audio and visual stimuli assaulting the senses, it was difficult to simultaneously focus attention on both music and moving images. However, the band, comprising Kenny Wollesen on drums and Tony Scherr on bass, always produced something to fit the occasion--whether stretching out in illustrative soundscapes or employing highly synchronized compositions with clever and perfectly-timed sound effects from the drummer. Always the individual stylist, Frisell stamped his mark on everything they played, his instantly recognizable tone ringing out with influences heavy in rock and country as much as jazz. The only drawback was that, occasionally, there was not a lot of variation in the overall sound produced for different films.

Richard Galliano and Gonzalo Rubalcaba
Queen Elizabeth Hall
November 16

A truly dreadful opening act featuring Romanian violinist Alexander Balanescu and Russian accordionist/singer Evelina Petrova went on for much too long without going anywhere musically; it wasn't even jazz. Galliano and Rubalcaba did not appear as a duo until after 10 p.m., after brief solo recitals from both. The fleet-fingered French accordion player ran through a series of short tunes, including Astor Piazzolla's classic "Libertango," with typically passionate Gallic flair. Rubalcaba's formidable touch was not employed to its fullest extent at any stage. His hands danced around the keys, but he seems to have developed a calmer, more restrained and exploratory attitude--there were no blistering runs, but his harmonic and rhythmic inventiveness was equally spectacular for those listening carefully. As a duo, they were engaging and communicative, giving each other space to play and not going over the top. A few more tempo changes would have been pleasing, but on the whole an impressive and vibrant performance.

Chris Potter
Ronnie Scott's
November 17

What hasn't been said about Chris Potter? Deserved critical praise has been sent his way from all angles, including for the current 'Underground' project featuring Craig Taborn (Fender Rhodes), Adam Rogers (guitar) and Nate Smith (drums). All were in fine form at Ronnie's, with the band's groove-oriented aesthetic laid bare for a packed house to enjoy. Potter's tenor sax (and occasional bass clarinet) cut through an intriguing web of guitar and Rhodes as they melted together lavishly, with either Rogers or Taborn keeping an eye on the low frequencies to compensate for the lack of bassist. The saxophonist's brutally rhythmic improvisational attack is perfectly suited to this kind of upbeat setting--the band has mastered the art of carefully growing each tune, gently rising in volume and intensity to push any soloist to his limits. And the repertoire wasn't restricted to fast-paced blitzing assaults, with Bob Dylan and Joni Mitchell covers thrown in for a bit of mellow variety.

Robert Glasper
Cargo
November 18

The lines between jazz and hip-hop have been frequently blurred in recent years, by all manner of artists from saxophonist Greg Osby to the incendiary Youngblood Brass Band. No one, however, has been more effective than Glasper in exploring the crossover through a piano trio format. A relative newcomer on the international circuit, the Texan differs from many musicians who have dabbled with this potent fusion in that his music is genuinely rooted in jazz and hip-hop as equal partners--rather than simply jazz from a hip-hop angle, or vice versa. For this outing Glasper was joined by Alan Hampton on bass and phenomenal drummer Chris Dave, the band's indisputable engine. Beat-heads were out in force, uttering whoops of joy at Dave's peppery rhythms, lightning fills and fearsomely fiery breaks. His sense of timing is wickedly skewed in the best possible way, the perfect complement to Glasper's rippling, undulating chordal style. The pianist is a player of unrivalled fluidity and superior harmonic nous, but his vamps sometimes became overly cyclical and the music a touch directionless. Yet Dave and Hampton always managed to keep things moving--the essence of the trio is perhaps more about soaking up the grooves than any individual leading the way.

Herbie Hancock
Barbican Centre
November 19

To this writer's delight, it seems Mr. Hancock may have read the review posted on AAJ of his performance at the 2008 North Sea Jazz Festival. In short, it was a less-than-innovative stroll through a funk songbook largely of the Headhunters idiom, which, despite the classic nature of the tunes and excellent delivery, was disappointing in its familiarity. This show, on the other hand, was much more exciting--Hancock explored some different material at greater length, aided by a stellar band featuring Terence Blanchard (trumpet), Gregoire Maret (harmonica), Lionel Loueke (guitar), Kendrick Scott (drums) and James Genus (bass). The musicians seemed to gel more meaningfully than an almost completely different group in Rotterdam, with Genus and Scott locked together solidly and Loueke in inspired form. They played for nearly three hours. Blanchard was an imperious presence on every solo, strutting the stage and employing delay and chorus effects for added wow. It's an increasingly rare delight to find him on the road with other leaders, as he is often occupied with teaching and film score gigs. The Swiss Maret had his moments, but looked a little out of depth next to the plethora of highly experienced players. Of course Hancock had to throw in a couple of old standards--"Cantaloupe Island," "Actual Proof" and "Chameleon" as an encore (with obligatory keytar jamboree)--but long, twisted, epic adventures through "Speak Like a Child" and Wayne Shorter's "Visitor" ceded together, and a stirring rendition of Loueke's convoluted "17s," more than compensated.

N.B. Highlights from this concert are being broadcast by BBC Radio Monday 3, December 8, 2008 and will be available for seven days online at www.bbc.co.uk/radio3.

Matthew Herbert Big Band
Royal Festival Hall
November 21

Matthew Herbert has created a musical monster. With five saxophones, four trumpets, four trombones, piano, bass, drums, lead vocalist, more than 60 backing singers (exclusively for this gig), a musical director and the man himself on electronic wizardry, this a summative depiction of contemporary jazz on a grand scale. It is also a beast which obeys its every command, capable of filling any setting with euphoric uproar. Sadly the Festival Hall engineering crew did not match the band's standard--it came through the system flat, cramped and unbalanced in a venue that should do better. After a slow start, featuring a couple of forgettable pop-ish meanderings, things really took off with powerful vocalist Eska leading the effort; although often burdened with slightly mundane and repetitive lyrics, she was never lacking style in delivery, admirably making the most of what she was given. One of the most enjoyable moments was a delightedly choreographed tune that featured almost all performers on stage tearing up copies of a low-reputation national newspaper in tandem. Here and in other instances, Herbert's crafty live sampling skills were a lesson in ruthless accuracy. The audience went home very happy, but, in purely technical terms, this ferocious band could have sounded a lot happier.

Chucho Valdes
Barbican Center
November 22

With Chucho Valdes, one always knows what to expect: a flourishingly buoyant display of Latin jazz led from the piano stool of this old master. Tonight, a rare visit to London, was no exception. Opening with a scorching medley including Duke's "Satin Doll" and the effervescent "Caravan," he went on to quote Joe Zawinul's "Birdland" in mambo form and spotlight the talents of his two percussionists--Juan Carlos Castro Rojas (drum kit) and Yaroldi Abreu (congas)--by allowing them to let loose in a long, spicy rhythmic feast with no real piano melody. That was just the first half. After the interval, Valdes brought out a four-piece horn section as well as his sister, the eccentric singer Mayra Caridad, for a couple of party numbers. The music took on a slightly rougher, more instinctive vibe, with all players given ample solo freedom. A brilliantly tight arrangement of Victor Young's "Stella by Starlight," with the head blasted out at breakneck speed, was typical of the sweltering big-band writing Valdes has developed through his noted group Irakere. The pianist clearly prides himself on well-drilled ensemble work and, although this set of compatriots may not have reached the dizzy heights (forgive the pun) of Paquito D'Rivera or Arturo Sandoval, they all had rich improvisational contributions to make--particularly Alexander Abreu's blaring trumpet and the cameo appearance of German Velazco's sweet soprano sax. And if that wasn't enough, a solitary woman even began to dance in the aisles of the cavernous Barbican hall: a typically British scenario, surely a far cry from the rapturous reception this superb band would receive back in Cuba.

Bireli Lagrene and Martin Taylor
Queen Elizabeth Hall
November 23

This was a fitting end to the festival, as two of the world's principal guitarists came together for an intrepid race to the pinnacle of distinction. Messrs. Lagrene and Taylor both worked with the great Stephane Grappelli, and, while continuing to honour the gypsy swing roots of Grapelli and Django Reinhardt, they have carved their own niches in the minds of music lovers. Taylor is par excellence in his incredible solo work, hypnotically fingerpicking his way through standards and originals alike; imagine Tommy Emmanuel high on jazz with a smooth electric tone and endless silky licks. Lagrene, although he has dabbled in fusion and post-bop, often favours the Manouche style of his Gypsy forefathers. His compact trio, featuring gentle bassist Diego Imbert and Hono Winterstein on rhythm guitar, offered the perfect opportunity for the Frenchman's dazzling chops to run free. When joined by Taylor for the last few songs of the night, the spectacle became any guitarist's dream ticket: the two had traded ideas in earlier duets, but went on to push each other further upwards with breathtaking interplay, supercharged by the immaculate backing of Winterstein and Imbert. A couple of swinging encores later, it was the end of everything--another spectacular success for the London Jazz Festival.

Published @ allaboutjazz, 2/12/08 - click here for original.

Manuel Mengis: Freedom First, History Later

2008-11-24T13:00:00.004+03:00

Jazz is insurmountable. Hundreds of CDs are reviewed by All About Jazz every year, but how many names are recognized? It is endlessly fascinating, yet frustrating--while reveling in the evidence that such a high quantity of music exists, the realization dawns that there aren't enough hours in the day to hear it all. Each name represents an artistic vision, a creative statement, a person or group with something to say, communicating with and through jazz. It's impossible for anyone to do justice to the inspiration, thought and effort that has gone into each record, but together we ought to try.

One man who epitomizes the above is Manuel Mengis. A likely unknown to many readers, the Swiss trumpeter is happy to talk in detail about his modus operandi. "It takes me a long time to write music; it's hard work," he says, speaking from his home in Valais, southern Switzerland. "I have a lot of ideas in my mind. In the first few days, I need to find out what I really want--which notes I want to use. I write a lot of stuff, throw some away, edit, and then after a few days I'm really into it--I can get a clearer picture. And sometimes I'm quite fast. But there's no system when I can just sit down and pull the triggers."

Mengis picked up a trumpet after being inspired by traditional night processions in his hometown. "There was a day once every year when we had a big parade with trumpets playing in the middle of the night. My parents would always wake us up at three or four in the morning and we would go to the balcony. You could hear the trumpets coming closer and closer. It was really a special moment. I think that's how I really started to like that sound you could hear from far away, like singing."

Surrounded by classical music as a child, Mengis discovered jazz in his early teens. "An uncle showed me some records and I really liked it right from the beginning. My parents were always very open to different styles of music and art, but the music they had was mostly classical. When I heard jazz, I became more concentrated. I had a classical teacher, but I used to gather some records and try to play along. I had no idea about the theory side of jazz, but I would try to improvise. It was a really different style of playing--more free."

Listening to his two CDs on HatHut records, it becomes apparent that Mengis cherishes musical freedom. He can't give a percentage of how much of his music is scored and how much is improvised, but he says "a lot is written and a lot is not." His band, Gruppe 6, sees the trumpet player joined by alto and tenor saxophones, electric guitar, electric bass and kit drums. This "little big band" format gives Mengis a rich palette of colors. His compositional flair is evident right from the start of Into The Barn (Hatology, 2005). Drummer Lionel Friedli counts off a rumbustious, jarring groove which sends an instant message: this record definitely won't be dinner jazz. A passage of the three horns battling each other over a perilous backbeat follows, but it all snaps into place again for a choreographed chorus after less than a minute, and the tune continues to ebb and flow for another ten.

Indeed, the shortest piece on either four-track album is just under nine minutes, with the rest in double figures. Is this intentional? "No, not at all," Mengis explains, "When I start writing, I have no idea how long the piece will last. The piece just grows. When I write, I find different ways of putting things together, modulating. The first CD had a lot of long tunes. Some people told me they were too long, but I didn't listen to that. I felt like I wanted to continue. I hadn't found out everything about writing long pieces. I didn't want to finish a tune before I felt I had said what I wanted to say. I also think people who are into music are capable of listening to a tune that lasts 15 minutes. It's not pop music--we don't have those limits for airplay and there is a lot of freedom. I like to have that. It takes time; I give it as much time as it needs."

Taking time and encouraging organic development from other band members is a feature of Mengis' writing, as is using the full potential of different voicings in a sextet. He acknowledges that his group possesses a distinct trace of rock influence: "The rhythm section is kind of rock, maybe because that's the kind of music going on right now and I like a lot of rock music too. On the other hand, there are three horns, which I like because there are a lot of possibilities. You can play out harmonies just using the horns, but six people takes a lot of organization. You need to have a good idea of what you want in the end, for example being free. I like that complexity of making music with six people. Also, importantly, I didn't choose people who are involved in the same kind of music. The bassist is from the dub side of things, the saxes from the jazz side. I like combining different tastes and personalities. With six people, you can achieve a good amount of power as well, which makes it interesting. You have all the possibilities: a huge sound, a tiny sound, two groups playing against each other."

It sounds complicated, both on disc and in the words of the architect. However, Mengis insists that simplicity is at the root of his compositional philosophy. On the question of how he would describe his music to someone who has never heard it, Mengis talks about how "the center is always some kind of theme which is not too complicated, which you can almost sing." But it's more than just theme and variation. "I try to change it--to put it into different colors and rearrange it. I like the metamorphosis of one thing. I try to make counterpoints, to build around it. A lot of parts are written and I like to interchange with more free parts; maybe sometimes it's hard to tell where they end and begin if you don't know.

The convoluted side lies in how he twists and turns his ideas, viewing and presenting them from a variety of angles. Many of the tunes possess an element of classical complexity--they are structured in movements, sometimes subtly connected and phasing gradually in and out, but often with clearer lines drawn. "For me the music is like a picture or a story. It's not in a specific jazz vocabulary and I like a lot of different atmospheres--maybe one of the most important things is changing the atmosphere and the structure. If I was selling it in a store, I would have a lot of problems putting it in a certain category because it has a little bit of many different influences and sounds."

It's easy to see why it takes Mengis such a long time to develop finished pieces. But, while the thick streak of rampant unpredictability is a highly enjoyable feature of his music, a shadowy guiding hand becomes increasingly visible on every listen. "I like surprising people, changing many times even within one tune, but I still think there is a red line underneath. It's not just a change--it may be a part of what was there already, but maybe you did not notice it, and then it comes again but more obvious, or at a different speed or with a different surrounding. I like to play with that. I don't want to go from A to B to C. I like to go from A to D and back to A, and then to Y, and then to A on the head. It's more interesting for the writer and, I think, also the listeners--maybe they have to listen to the records more than one time before they see. Sometimes I think there are little parts which are the most important things--bits you don't hear the first time, or even if there are some little solos underneath, you might not notice it's a solo because it is more hidden, more like anticipation."

"Since I'm an autodidact in writing, I developed a language which is my own. I think that makes it a little bit harder, but the good side is that it is more personal. The bad side is that it takes more time. It's based around teaching yourself: I have something in my mind, I write it down, I play it, I listen again, I don't like it, I try and make it better. Writing has a lot to do with taste; it's about my own taste. I like to please my own taste, and not a certain form or structure. Often in the beginning of a tune, what I have in mind is more like an attitude--let's say I want to make a piece which is loud, fast and brutal, or something soft and easy."

Mengis' two albums, Into The Barn and The Pond (Hatology, 2008), were released nearly three years apart--a fact that reflects his carefully considerate approach to making music. In the back-cover blurb for The Pond, Michael Rosenstein declares that this "measured deliberation is something that is all too rare these days." Mengis identifies a slight difference in attitude in the featured material. "I think the first album was more like rough energy and the second was smoother, maybe, more controlled," he states uncertainly. "That band is capable of playing with really high energy, especially live, and I wanted to keep doing that, but try something more controlled. The repertoire is expanding from really controlled stuff to really free blowing. Now, for the next recording, I am trying to make it different again."

Into The Barn was recorded in 2004 and released the next year by HatHut records. Mengis considers himself fortunate to have the backing of Werner X. Uehlinger's renowned independent label. "I made the recording, but I didn't have any contacts with record companies. I sent it out to different people and, after three days, I got the call. It was really very easy! I always thought you had to have connections, that you had no chance if you didn't know people, so it was a very nice thing because I did not believe it was still possible like that. It's funny, because the label is really well known, and I was almost a little bit rude to the guy when he called because he didn't say the name of the company and I didn't realize who it was. I had been very naive, but of course I was really happy. It's great that if he finds something he likes, he will release it, even if it's a person who is not known."

The first CD was very well received, so why did Mengis leave such a long gap until the next one? "I was not ready to just go and do the second one quickly. I didn't want to rush. From the business angle, I don't think it's great to wait very long, but I wasn't ready. We played some gigs, we had a little break, we did other things, played with different people, and then I started to write again and it took its time. Then we had to find time for rehearsals, the studio, and it's two years! It's a long process and I didn't want to make stress for anyone. Also, sometimes it takes a while to be released on the label. For the second CD we made the recording a year in advance and I thought we had moved on by the time it was out, but it's not that important for other people to see immediately. I don't want to appear too serious--it's not like the whole world is waiting for Manuel Mengis! You have to take it easy, and the most important thing is that you move on, even if the documentary is a little bit late."

Logistical difficulties in assembling the sextet played a part in this delay, and Mengis admits past reservations about the size of his group. "It is more difficult to go play gigs and be paid with six people than three people. I had moments when I thought, "Gosh, I'm really stupid! Why do I have such a large band?" but that hard point of making business work was not enough to stop me. I decided to carry on, and I try to write music which is interesting for the others. It's not just a job, because if it was just a job the band would not exist anymore.

"I think about the personalities of the others when I am writing--maybe not only what they like to do, but how they play, and also things I would like them to try, to challenge them. Maybe that is why the group still exists--because, so far, the music has been challenging for them, which they use to find new aspects of themselves. The other side is that we don't hang out together all the time, but when we're on tour or playing it is a chemistry that always works. You don't have to be best friends, but you must have pleasure in working together. I'm really lucky because it's not obvious our situation is like that. Sometimes you have to change the group if chemistry is not working or people want to go in a different direction, but when new things or concerts are happening, the others get organized and it always works." An admirable stance. The music itself is the simplest way to understand why Mengis is so desperate to keep the Gruppe 6 alive: a profound sense of creative cohesion and pure pleasure in spontaneous understanding is there for all to hear.

Switzerland's small size makes it relatively easy for musicians to travel for work, but, as in any country, it's not an easy life. Jazz players have a long history of maintaining second jobs to supplement their incomes, and Mengis is no exception. "My other job is mountain guiding," he explains. "That gives me enough money, because I could not make a living just by playing. Mountaineering and climbing is something very different, maybe also good. I think it helps my perspectives--for my personality and making music, it's good that I have another side that is really different. My job as a guide has aspects I wouldn't want to miss as well, and I'm sure it's better than if I had to play commercial gigs. It gives me a choice, which means I can make the music I really want to. In the best moments, I have a balanced life, but in the worst moments it's a collision of the two worlds, like if I would go to the mountains for three days with a client, come back, and get ready for a gig. But variety is important. I need to have that aspect of nature and being outside, working, using your body, weather in the face and everything!"

This love of the kind of freedom only the great outdoors can provide is clearly reflected in Mengis's music and thinking. The fact that Switzerland lacks any constraint from jazz tradition also plays a major part in his creative opus. In an article entitled "Bloom Time for Jazz from Switzerland" on the HatHut website, critic Tom Gsteiger emphatically describes his country as a "jazz paradise" before toning down this rather hyperbolic opening to construct a reasoned and very well-informed discussion of why its contemporary music scene is in such good health. Drawing potent comparisons with New York cultural policy and the drawbacks of the American jazz "system," he quotes veteran Canadian writer Juan Rodriguez: "The Americans have a big problem with their jazz tradition: how to overcome the immortals? The Swiss don't seem to have those hang-ups. Their music is totally non-derivative and yet based on a very keen study of what came before, they avoid the cliches because they know them."

Manuel Mengis is part of this growing movement. When asked if it is an advantage or disadvantage coming from a country where no one expects jazz to be, he replies: "Yes, I think for me it was a help, because it gave me the freedom I was searching for. I think, even though I'm nodding to jazz music, it's not like there was a tradition I had to adhere to. I didn't think I had to learn a certain vocabulary--it's not like I had to learn all the standards first, the bebop phrasing and the rest. Jazz for me isn't like that; it doesn't work that way--it's more freedom. There is no American approach; that's not my approach. I was not growing up in New York or Louisiana. I'm not playing the blues because it's not my background. I like to play things which relate to the blues, but I'm not out of that scene. Some people might think that's not an advantage, but it's also some freedom; it depends how you look at it. As I see the music, there's not a distinguished way you have to play, or everybody plays. I was never interested in copying other people or playing a certain way I knew. I always wanted to be a little bit different."

Furthermore, he wants his music to speak to a wider audience than traditional jazz lovers. "I'm not interested in playing music for people who only listen to jazz. I don't want to talk about things like, "Oh, I hear that phrase, I know that phrase, it's great--Wow, I can play it at tempo 240 and that guy played it on this record the same," or whatever. I'm not interested in that. Maybe if I was from Spain and I loved flamenco, I would play that all my life, but here the situation is more about different influences."

"I hope my music can appeal to a lot of different people, especially in its live concept. The most important thing when I play music is the live situation, and using that I can reach people. I've already had people coming up after concerts saying, "I never listen to jazz--I normally listen to rock--but I really liked it!" There are some parts of that attitude in it. If people see it live, they can understand what's going on. It's less abstract. I'm not really interested in making music just for nerds, if you see what I mean. There are jazz nerds and there are jazz people, but I want to make music for people who are able to listen to music. Some of them like it and some of them don't, and that is also important. You can't just play music that is nice for everybody."

Gsteiger's article also slams the stereotypical view of Swiss folk culture in the eyes of the world, citing one review of Into The Barn which refers to "fears of cowbell and lederhosen music." Mengis also isn't keen on this misleading, jaded perspective: "There is a stereotype that some people may still have, but Switzerland isn't just the lederhosen thing. Like all other countries, we are connected to the whole world. We have a big classical scene, a rock scene, a pop scene. The folklore thing is different anyway--the old folk music is really very interesting. People in the North and South had their own styles. Then there was a famous guy who started the kitsch folklorey thing which really sold with tourists. You have a lot of that going on, but on the other side you have a big scene that is making all different kinds of music. I mean, it's not obvious, for example, for a Swiss guy to have a reggae band, but there is a reggae scene. It's not big, but you find all different styles."

So, to the future. Where does Mengis think jazz is going? "It's a big question, which I hope I can't answer. That would be my preferred view of the jazz scene--not being able to predict what will happen. I think at the moment, a lot of people are starting to write for larger ensembles, with more distinguished stuff, but on the other side there is this kind of punk jazz attitude developing and a mainstream, traditional scene which is also really strong. I think it's going more and more into very diverse styles and, even in five years, it will be much harder for people to label something as jazz, rock, ethno music, contemporary music.

"The genre and label thing is very difficult, especially if you make music which isn't obviously of a certain kind. Some people call my music jazz-rock, but that kind of 'fusion' in the traditional sense was going on 30 years ago and I'm not really doing the same thing. But, in the end, if you talk to people, you need to have terms. Even if they are not ideal, terms can help people to see what you mean. Maybe we will have to find 25 to 30 names for different kinds of jazz music."

People often make comparisons as a form of shorthand for talking about music they are struggling to describe, looking for security by linking the unfamiliar to something they know. Mengis' work is no exception. "Some people say my music sounds like it was influenced by Frank Zappa, and I say 'Thanks, that's really interesting, but I've never really listened to him!' And being compared to Mingus is a huge compliment! I have listened to him, but not all the time. It's weird when you are compared to people you don't know very well yourself. I never had one person I was really fixed on. I don't think there was any one thing which really changed my views, more like maybe 30 people who changed little parts of my hearing."

For the next album, Mengis plans to break with one of his own standards. "I'm fed up of writing long tunes. It's time to change. I was not at that point before, but now I am going through a change of writing style. We had a change of saxophonist for the second CD, and now we also have a new alto player, so the group is evolving as well. Hopefully it will come out in 2009, and I hope we will play a few gigs as well. People still don't know my name, even though I've had some good reviews. It takes a lot of time, a bit of luck, and some people spreading the word."

The end goal, Mengis states, is a situation when "the written part is just the foundation and everything can be improvised," but he acknowledges that it is "hard to achieve," saying, "I want to achieve a creative high point. When I'm playing music with other people, there are moments where it becomes more like a spoken phrase--it becomes a bit like magic, not in a corny way. Sometimes you really have moments like that--you forget what's going on, everyone plays together and there's a certain energy. Maybe the goal is to try and achieve that more and more. That's why everybody does the things they like--a racing driver or anyone--they love getting really into it, being highly concentrated and feeling like they're on a different level."

The freedom about jazz which attracted him as a child has now become deeply imprinted on Mengis's character. His idiom has been shaped by love of nature, the artistic liberty of coming from a country with no musical preconceptions and a desire for creative fulfillment. He has found the ideal balance of being informed, rather than inhibited, by tradition. "At the end, written down or not, jazz, rock, or whatever--who cares--it has to do about the attitude you have while playing, about being sincere and authentic, to use imagination. In the best moments you can achieve that." Yet the trumpeter worries that "maybe I was not really concrete in the answers." In fact, that was one of the most concrete statements he made. No matter. As in his music, he is constantly asking questions of himself and others, using his freedom to the fullest possible extent and letting his mind take him wherever it wants to go.

Selected Discography
Manuel Mengis Gruppe 6, The Pond (Hatology, 2008)
Manuel Mengis Gruppe 6, Into The Barn (Hatology, 2005)

Photo Credits
Top Photo: Stefan Postius
Bottom Photo: Courtesy of Manuel Mengis

Published @ allaboutjazz, 24/11/08 - click here for original.

*UPDATE: this article has been selected as one of the top 20 interviews of 2008 on AAJ!*

Omara Portuondo: 77 Not Out

2008-10-04T14:00:00.002+04:00

At 77, Omara Portuondo is an elder stateswoman of world music. Here she tells Frederick Bernas about her new album, Gracias, and reflects on a long life of innovation, cultural enterprise and funny stories.

With a musical career spanning 60 years and counting, Omara Portuondo is far from finished. "It is never enough, there is always more to do, there is always something new," she states from a comfy couch in the top-floor bar of a London hotel. It's early Friday morning and the singer is probably not too enthralled by the prospect of a day with the media.

However, she speaks enthusiastically about her new CD, Gracias, which was released on September 25. "I selected these tracks because they are very popular and people know them in Cuba. I like all of these songs and I wanted to work with younger people who play modern music which is still rooted in tradition." Indeed, the backing band for this 13-track disc features the likes of jazz bass virtuoso Avishai Cohen and rising Cuban star Roberto Fonseca on piano. Other guest appearances include Indian percussionist Trilok Gurtu, sweet-voiced Richard Bona from Cameroon, veteran pianist Chucho Valdés and Brazilian crooner Chico Buarque.

"The music doesn't know the barriers of age or language," she continues. "I wanted to bring everyone together to celebrate 60 years. I've done lots of records; this time I wanted to work with songs I've done before but make them more contemporary, more actual." Easily discernible from its title, the album is a gesture of appreciation -- "I wanted to say thank you to all these people: my family, musicians, authors, composers, the public, everyone who has helped me."

In the early years, Omara learnt traditional songs from her parents and became a professional dancer in 1945. Swapping her dancing shoes for a mic, she was then part of several innovative movements in Cuban music, with fusion across genres such as jazz, bossa and other Latin styles. Her debut album was released in 1959 and for the next 40 years she worked steadily on different projects, mostly solo, including the Buena Vista Social Club.

A worldwide phenomenon emerged: Wim Wenders produced a compelling documentary and World Circuit Records released an album of the same name. Portuondo and others skyrocketed to international fame almost overnight, and she identifies this as the highlight of her musical life so far. "It made Cuban music known all over the world. I had been to Finland, Japan, other countries, but then with the Buena Vista Social Club everything went global. There was a collective feeling of joy and it made me very happy. I have huge pride that I worked with these musicians, sang these songs."

Had she expected such a boom of interest in Cuban music? "It's a difficult thing, it was a coincidence. It happened organically, without thinking about it -- [producer] Nick Gold, Wim Wenders and [guitarist/producer] Ry Cooder were there to work on the project and it just happened. We never really imagined it was going to be so successful. The record was going to be made anyway. You just need to be in the right place at the right time for an opportune moment!"

Portuondo already had a considerable reputation in Cuba: wonderful images from Wenders' film of her walking through Havana, singing choruses of popular tunes with members of the public, illustrate her significance in domestic culture. She maintains that her life "didn't really change" when her fame acquired this international dimension, but it perhaps fostered a heightened sense of consciousness at being a global ambassador for the little island's artistic scene. "I don't feel pressure from fans to produce a good album, but I feel responsibility that I am representing the music of a country. I feel like the public are on my side. And I don't really feel the high expectations because I am part of a team; the musicians with me are young, and they have won prizes in jazz festivals. They really help me to move forward."

Cuban influence on world music is disproportionate to the size of its population -- the nation has a history of producing great players who have collaborated fruitfully with foreign artists, particularly in the field of jazz. Dizzy Gillespie was one of the first to break away from the American mainstream he'd helped create, venturing into what is now known as Latin jazz to produce a series of albums which defined the sub-genre. Omara offers an insightful explanation, arguing, "It's no so much that Cuba is an influence, we've been very well-informed.

"Even though it's a small country, 11 million inhabitants, we still receive information. I knew the Beatles, I sung their songs, I sung with Nat King Cole, I sung Italian songs, American, English... We had people on TV from Italy, North America, Mexico, so we all saw that. Cuba has always been very well-informed on what's going on in the outside world -- whether it is music, film, recordings or whatever."

In terms of the future, she has prudent words: "I see it like any other country in the world. It all depends on the youth, the opportunities. Cuba is subject to a lot of things -- for example, hurricanes -- but I see it as any other country." Her tone possesses a grandmotherly air of wisdom on the subject, and she speaks brightly of new Cuban musical talent. "There are so, so many musicians to look out for! They are making all kinds of music, and lots of young people ask to work with me -- for example, I have worked with a rapper on something really funky, very upbeat. There is a lot of musical interest from young people in Cuba."

Like any grandparent, Omara has a wealth of random tales -- she bursts into life when asked about comical memories, animatedly recounting the time when "I was singing with a quartet live on TV, and one of the other girls swallowed a fly! It flew into her mouth as we were ending a song, and we didn't realise she had run away!

"Lots of unexpected things happen on stage. There was another time when the heel of my shoe wedged into a little gap in the stage live on TV and I fell down! And another time, when we were in Mexico preparing for a show, there was an earthquake while I was on the toilet -- we didn't know what was going on!"

The warmth of her personality shines through, a characteristic that has endeared her to music lovers the world over. This public familiarity as one of the queens of Latin music is aptly demonstrated by the fact her surname has been omitted from the cover of Gracias, a risky luxury few other musicians could afford. Her expressive, compassionate voice can be recognised instantly -- it's a "gift" she is profoundly grateful for. "I am lucky to be able to do things with my voice musically. Other people might be more limited, but I can, so I am always going to find something new and something to innovate."

As for motivation, another crucial facet to her thinking is creative exchange: "I did all this so I could spread culture to other countries in the world, and I think I have succeeded. My father taught me all the old Cuban songs when I was a young girl and I've been singing them for more than 50 years now." Did she think it would come this far? "It's not something you think about, it's something that happens. It doesn't matter about the language. It's not something I thought ahead about. I'm doing something I like, so I will always keep going: I never tire of singing, I will not stop singing until one day when I might have to!"

UK tour dates:
10/12/08 -- Sage 1, Gateshead
13/12/08 -- Town Hall, Birmingham
14/12/08 -- Union Chapel, London

Links:
www.omaraportuondo.com
www.myspace.com/omaraportuondoworldcircuit

Published @ Fly, 4/10/08 - click here for original.

Alex Wilson - Salsa Con Soul

2008-10-03T14:00:00.000+04:00

On his sixth solo album, the award-winning Wilson looks more towards commercial influences than previous work.

It would be easy for a man of Alex Wilson's pianistic talent to cruise along comfortably, picking up sideman or session gigs here and there and continuing to operate in the time-honoured medium of standard small jazz groups. But that doesn't match his creative vision. Instead, recent records have seen him assemble a 12-piece all-singing, all-dancing Latin ensemble, capable of swirling grooves and intricate polyrhythms which bring out the best in his compositional nous.

After Inglaterra (2007), a disc which firmly established his arrival as a major player on dancefloors around the world, Wilson has opted for a more western, singer-oriented outing - as the title of Salsa Con Soul would suggest. Welcome to a truly globalised world, where traditional elements of Latin music are combined with more mainstream genres like soul, R&B and gospel.

The band is spot on, raking through sharp, classy arrangements that complement the assortment of vocalists and help them sound really good. The word 'diva' has become cliché, including its use in this CD's press release, and there is a sense of a diva complex in the music: the English lyrics occasionally veer precariously close to the rather crass realms of our dearly beloved pop kingdom. However, spicy instrumentation will often step in to save the day, like a knight in shining armour to rescue the damsel in distress, going some way to appease even the staunchest anti-pop crusaders. This is not said lightly, but it's forgivable in the name of fun.

Salsa Con Soul ticks pretty much all the boxes. There's even a sprinkling of fiery non-vocal tunes to soothe the aforementioned purists - 'Sabroson' and 'Antonio' offer a pleasant respite from soul diva shenanigans. If you're planning a Latin-themed dance party, this record should be number one on the shopping list.

Release: 20/10/08

Tour:
19/10/08 - Leeds University
8/11/08 - Birmingham Town Hall
21/11/08 - Jazz Café, London

Links:
www.alexwilson.net
www.myspace.com/alexwilsonpiano

Published @ Fly, 3/10/08 - click here for original.

Taking Off: James Morton

2008-09-23T14:00:00.000+04:00

As the Bristol scene becomes increasingly self-confident and highly talented players pour out of the city seeking wider exposure, Frederick Bernas profiles the latest to make a splash, saxophonist James Morton.

“I don’t class myself as a jazz musician,” says James Morton. This 26-year-old saxophonist’s philosophy reflects the Bristol music scene that has nurtured him. The city has attracted recent attention in the jazz world, with The Blessing taking home the Best Album gong from this year’s BBC Jazz Awards and a string of ear-catching performances at Glastonbury’s Jazz Lounge. Morton, however, keenly emphasises its position as “a real hub of creativity in a very eclectic way” and his passion for other forms of music is crystal clear.

“I’m not one of those people who was obsessed by jazz from a really young age, although I was listening to it. I’ve always loved funk, reggae, soul, motown and dance music. Being a saxophone player, I think everyone has the expectation that jazz is the predominant thing, but for me it wasn’t that way. Jazz was secondary in my musical journey; it’s now very important to me, but I discovered it later.”

Growing up in Cheddar, a village near Bristol, Morton’s first instrument was the violin: “I started playing when I was five, but when I was nine I looked at the saxophone and thought it was sexy and tactile – I thought ‘yeah, I want to play that!’ A violin case doesn’t look cool, but if you walk around with a saxophone a few girls might look at you,” he says with a cheekily confident air. A couple of years later he was gigging regularly with older musicians, earning money and drawing inspiration from how “playing, rehearsing and performing became a normal part of life.”

After leaving school at 16, Morton graduated from the Guildhall jazz masters course age 22. He returned to Bristol and has been mentored by Andy Sheppard and Pee Wee Ellis, both of whom he is quick to acknowledge as major influences. Touring with Ellis’ African Tribute to James Brown project has been fruitful – “I’m learning an amazing amount. Every gig, every rehearsal, every moment I’m absorbing. It’s a few different categories: horn section playing, concentration, building solos, grabbing an audience, listening… I could go on forever.”

A productive relationship with Sheppard took off when the talismanic tenorman showed up at Morton’s residency in a small Bristol wine bar, Luna. “The first bit of advice he gave me was to get a stable house band, as I’d been using different people every week. When I did, he came and played a gig with us and I started hanging out with him more. We’ve done a few gigs now – the project is called ‘James Morton and the Luna-tics featuring Andy Sheppard’ and I feel very privileged to be working with him. He’s taught me a lot about approaching solos, jazz composition and even valuable skills like presenting yourself to promoters and that kind of business angle.”

This understanding of the need to pick up information from those with greater know-how was boldly apparent. When asked about his ambitions, Morton replies: “For now, I want to keep on working with really inspirational people who are more experienced than I am. I feel I am still very much learning about playing and writing music.” And he is adamant there is no better place to do it than Bristol.

“Bristol is kicking off musically. There are loads of young players coming through, getting better very quickly, and there’s some really good stuff going on. I don’t want to stick with the jazz thing – the scene is very diverse. There’s some great reggae music by Dub From Atlantis, which I’m loosely involved with. Edenheight is a 10-piece funk collective I’ve been working and recording with. James Gardiner-Bateman and Josh Arcoleo are talented sax players and look out for Bellatrix, a bebop-playing bassist and award-winning beatboxer who is currently studying in London.”

As for his own projects, in addition to the Luna-tics Morton currently leads a “nine-piece soul and hip-hop influenced jazz-funk thing” called The Rawness. “In between touring and gigging, I’m working hard to develop the band – it’s getting there, I’m still writing. I hope to have something finished by early autumn.” Once again demonstrating a full awareness of the challenges this can entail, he admits that “the way I recorded it the first time didn’t match the sound in my head, so I’m re-recording in a different way. You have to make mistakes; making records and playing gigs are two completely different sports. I’m learning a lot by doing things, not being happy, and doing it again.”

This calm level-headedness stems from an iron desire to succeed as a solo artist, rather than going down the hallowed session road. “I’ve always been headstrong about the things I do. I decided I wanted to make a living out of music and nothing’s got in the way.” Nominations for the Jerwood Foundation Take Five scheme and the Promoters’ Choice Award pay testament to his vision and drive. “I want to sell records, see my name in lights and be an amazing musician… with people who are better than me! I want to be able to choose the musicians I want to work with and the venues I want to play.” With a work ethic that produced 8-10 hours’ practice per day in the run up to his Guildhall audition, the alto player is obviously not lacking commitment.

Morton’s modus operandi also stresses the need for a fiery live persona: “To me there’s more than just playing notes, I like to perform and give people a show, which is part of communication and entertainment. I’m much more an emotional player than an intellectual player. I want to make people move without thinking about it. I want to make people dance, to give them tingles down their spine and make asses shake uncontrollably. That’s my thing. I’m not really a beard-scratcher, I don’t want to go down the beard-scratching audience route. I want to make music that sounds good and feels good and makes people happy.” Amen to that.

Published in Jazzwise, October 2008.

Maceo Parker - Pigalle Club, 20/8/08

2008-09-05T14:00:00.000+04:00

The Pigalle is not short of trendy downtown charm. It’s a little bit glitzy and supper-clubbish: definitely not the usual setting for “2% jazz, 98% funk” kind of music. Luckily, there is no better man to bring a venue to life than Maceo Parker, playing here with his nine-piece band featuring UK trombone star Dennis Rollins. Early on, the saxophonist stirred people up by patrolling dinner tables, many of which then gave way to open up a heaving dancefloor.

Song lengths went well into double figures without exception, moving up and down the dynamic spectrum with frightening rigidity. At times it felt a little like too much filler and not enough funk – Maceo would go through long periods without lifting horn to mouth – but since the set lasted almost three hours, we probably shouldn’t complain. And when he did play, he really played – with a towering stage presence, signature piercing tone and perfectly controlled melodic phrasing. It’s no exaggeration to state Maceo as the seminal influence on a generation of funk saxophonists.

Despite the drawbacks of the club, this was a rare chance to see Maceo on stage in such an intimate venue. Even at the age of 65, the former James Brown sideman shows no sign of slowing down. The king is dead, long live the king.

< Published in London Tourdates, 5/9/08.

Avishai Cohen - Gently Disturbed

2008-08-27T13:00:00.000+04:00

With this release on his own Razdaz Recordz, Avishai Cohen firmly entrenches himself as a frontrunning innovator in the piano trio medium. The Israeli bassist is joined by Mark Guiliana on drums and countryman Shai Maestro on piano - the latter a change in personnel from Continuo (Razdaz, 2006) and Live At The Blue Note (Razdaz, 2007).

"Seattle" represents a slightly ponderous start, with a lyrical bass solo from Cohen over meandering chordal piano vamps, but it is not more than a gentle prelude to what is coming up. The next track, "Chutzpan," gives a fuller insight into the incredible locked synchronisation that exists between these three musicians. Shifting between angular, cascading motifs and jumping, jittery movements with consummate ease, the trio is well-drilled yet instinctive in its manner of interaction.

"The Ever Evolving Etude" is an outstanding track, a perfect example of Cohen's minutely accurate compositional style. Based around a couple of piano riffs and building in degrees, it works up to a frenzy of intricately subdivided phrasing with manically precise off-pulse syncopations. It's a wall of sound that doesn't stand still. Similar traits are present on tunes such as "Pinzin Kinzin," "Eleven Wives," and the dense album closer "Structure in Emotion," but they are all different enough to make the CD unpredictable.

A few slower items add further spice to the mix: "Variations in G Minor," "Puncha Puncha," and the title track, "Gently Disturbed," are more relaxed but no less crafty. It's all perfectly executed and Cohen's compositional identity has become distinctively recognisable - in piano voicing and the rhythmic intensity he draws from his group. In Maestro and Guiliana he has found ideal poetic partners.

The disc's title is reflective of the music - many of Cohen's ideas are challenging, but not inaccessible. Listeners can almost obliviously float through the advanced concepts without getting hung up, in the same way the musicians do. So, while it can take several listenings to fully understand what's going on, that effort should not be a deterrent to enjoying this release.

Track listing: Seattle; Chutzpan; Lo Baiom Velo Balyla; Pinzin Kinzin; Puncha Puncha; Eleven Wives; Gently Disturbed; The Ever Evolving Etude; Variations in G Minor; Umray; Structure in Emotion.

Personnel: Avishai Cohen: bass; Mark Guiliana: drums; Shai Maestro: piano.

Published @ allaboutjazz, 27/8/08 - click here for original.

Portico Quartet: Mercury Rising For Hang Men

2008-08-22T14:00:00.005+04:00

The Portico Quartet are ‘indie’ in the truest sense of the word. Frederick Bernas talks to the Mercury-nominated post-jazz ensemble.

It is a genuine musical fairytale. In 2004, the Portico Quartet was just one of countless acts busking the hallowed walkways of London’s South Bank. Four short years later, the group finds itself nominated for the prestigious Mercury Music Prize, with a long list of gigs and festival appearances to its credit, and a fair degree of critical acclaim. The imminent question on the minds of all aspiring bands will be: how did they do it?

Talking to Nick Mulvey, Jack Wyllie, Milo Fitzpatrick and Duncan Bellamy before their gig at Rough Trade East, it becomes obvious their feet are firmly on the ground. Although none are originally from London, the four met in the capital when studying various courses at university and started jamming in public – “we got a really positive reaction,” says drummer Bellamy; “it was one of the things that spurred us on at first. We didn’t really know each other that well but we just started busking and everyone loved it, from little kids to old grannies and everyone in between.”

“We sold 10,000 copies of our debut album like that, about 200 a day,” Mulvey continues. “We had an industrial CD burner, so we would spend Friday nights getting them ready to sell that weekend.” In true DIY band tradition, the money was put straight back into recording time – and this notion of hard work has been a key factor in the Quartet’s rapid rise. At the end of 2007 they were rewarded with the Vortex jazz club’s Babel label releasing Knee-Deep In The North Sea, which has gone on to receive the Mercury nomination.

Another important facet of the group’s appeal is use of the Hang, a percussive steel instrument created in Switzerland by two master metallurgists and only available from this single source. “Since we’ve been selling CDs busking, people have been sharing them, showing their friends, who have been wondering ‘what’s that?’,” Duncan explains. Its mystical reverberation, which catalyses a similar trance-like aesthetic to Indonesian Gamelan music, is a hallmark of the Portico sound.

“It’s a different sound, it’s unusual,” says Mulvey, the main Hang player. “It’s a bit of a gimmick in a way, but it has a different character. It also encourages you to compose in a very different way: there are many more limitations than if we had drums, bass, sax and I was playing piano or guitar, a more standard quartet. You don’t have chromatic options, you have to work within these confines that have made us develop an unusual sort of sound.”

So how can the music itself be described? This question has the potential to open a giant can of worms, as happens here – it’s more of a group discussion than an interview. Inevitable comparisons have been drawn with the work of contemporary classical composers like Steve Reich and Philip Glass, but bassist Fitzpatrick doesn’t really go along with this – “Some of the earlier stuff was most closely paralleled to Steve Reich, but it doesn’t really sound Reichy or Glassy to me. It’s definitely patterns and cycles, changed by different harmonies on other instruments. But, to be honest, I hear hip-hop and rock rhythms, and some more experimental playing from the sax.”

According to Mulvey, the reference is related more to method than outcome – “the link with Reich is more relevant to our processes than the actual end sound, using cyclical refrains on the Hangs that build in texture rather than harmonic progression, which I suppose is arguably minimalist. But the end result is not minimalist.” At certain points in the album it would appear to be anything but, with dense layers building up gradually to a climax and sweeping angular saxophone melodies piercing through.

A multitude of influences is evident, in a manner akin to so many new bands which have often been hastily bracketed as ‘jazz’ due to difficulty in placing them anywhere else. “This is the first era where you’ve been able to grab music so quickly from all different sources using the internet,” is an explanation offered by the saxophonist, Wyllie. “Everyone’s absorbing everything, it’s part of globalisation. It’s not rigid anymore, people are crossing borders, the lines are blurring. It’s all grouped as post-jazz, although a lot of it is moving out of the jazz idea as well.”

The conversation went on for some time. Duncan came up with perhaps the best summary in that “more than anything, it’s just post-modern music. It all draws from so much different stuff that you can’t put it down – everyone borrows all the bits they want and puts it together.”

Advanced (or confusing) as the group’s musical concept may seem, it has succeeded in traversing boundaries and developing the foundations of a cult following. At the Rough Trade gig it was refreshing to see only one grey-haired devotee, surrounded by a plethora of young faces, all looking equally mesmerised by the hypnotic nuances of the group’s collective soundscape. If the Mercury prize was to be judged on the sole criterion of fostering a new open mentality in the minds of music fans, the Portico Quartet would win hands down.

But did they really expect it would all go this far? The answer is, intriguingly, a rather confident affirmative: “It’s amazing and a great excitement, and surprising on some levels, but also on other levels not surprising because we’ve always believed in the music,” says Mulvey. “I don’t think you project that far ahead, you just play music, but the belief has always been there. We play music that draws from jazz, but we operate with much more of an indie ethos. Everything that’s come our way is a result of that.”

If the 10/1 outsiders defy the odds and take this coveted award, it will be a victory not only for London’s rich progressive jazz scene, but that whole philosophy of do-it-yourself independence which permeates the modern music industry. “More people are realising that’s the best way to do it now,” says Wyllie thoughtfully. “We’ve done the DIY approach in a really hardcore way with busking, making the CDs and all that, and it shows you don’t always need record companies to do well.

“Also, I don’t think a ‘jazz’ band has won in a while, so I think it would mean a lot for opening people’s minds to this kind of music. When Roni Size won, it did a lot for drum‘n’bass, so maybe we could do the same for jazz. It’s been a really good year for British jazz, or post-jazz, with loads of bands doing things people might like. They deserve to be recognised and people should be aware of them – if we won, it could be like a gateway to new audiences.”

A Portico triumph would continue the ultimate fable for these four recent uni graduates who really are living the dream. And you never know, they might just do it.

Portico Quartet play the Vortex jazz club on August 27 and the Hoxton Bar & Grill on August 31.

Published in London Tourdates, 22/8/08.

Polar Bear - Polar Bear

2008-08-08T17:00:00.002+04:00

Polar Bear: Polar Bear
Tin Angel Records
Release: 14 July 2008

The long-awaited third album from Sebastian Rochford’s trailblazing group does not disappoint. Polar Bear have recently been gigging material from the 75-minute disc, with themes varying from rich, reflective soundscapes to the frantic barrages of improvisation which captured the jazz world’s ears.

Leafcutter John’s electronic wizardry is more deeply embedded on the record than in live performances – he adds to the unpredictable nature of Rochford’s composition with an array of zaps, whirs, bursts of static and live samples that compliment the other musicians. The track “Industry” lives up to its name: clanking mechanical noise from John’s computer weaves a vibrant backdrop for the two saxophones’ finely-scored harmonic countermelody. Haunting vocals courtesy of Julia Biel feature in a couple of tunes, lending the band a Portisheadesque ambience on “Sunshine” and “Brian”.

As an artistic statement, Polar Bear seems calmer and more pensive than previous work. This intricately absorbing set possesses a new brand of vicious intensity. Rochford has solidified his position as a leading creative force in modern music.

< Published in London Tourdates, 8/8/08

Samay - Dingwalls, 16/7/08

2008-08-08T15:00:00.000+04:00

The first thing that strikes you about Samay is the intriguing combination of Western and Indian instruments: guitar, bass, saxophone, Tabla and Sarod. From the opening moments of this CD launch gig, it was clear a wonderful sense of communication existed: the five musicians frequently exchanged glances and pushed each other forward during solos.

In terms of genre, the band presents a mysterious blend of Indian music, jazz, Mediterranean flamenco, eastern folk and even a hint of reggae. It is the latest in a long chain of so-called “Indo-jazz” groups, which originated in the 1960s with such protagonists as John Mayer, Joe Harriott and, later, John McLaughlin. As well as drawing on this rich history, the multi-national musicians of Samay contribute shades of their own background into a culturally diverse melting pot of different styles.

Jesse Bannister on alto sax and Italian guitarist Giuliano Modarelli stood out as improvisers, with Tabla player Bhupinder Singh Chaggar providing exactly the right percussive backdrop – at times jaw-droppingly fast or subtle and persuasive, depending on the mood of the tune. There was no shortage of individual talent on display, but the evident emphasis on collective interaction meant no one could steal the limelight – an occasional drawback of jazz concerts.

Indo-jazz is enjoying a resurgence of interest on the London scene, with groups like Samay in the vanguard. Debut album “Songs For a Global Journey” represents a pleasingly unpredictable voyage through the myriad of influences that infuse this highly refreshing sound.

< Published in London Tourdates, 8/8/08.

North Sea Jazz Festival 2008

2008-07-31T16:00:00.001+04:00

North Sea Jazz Festival
Ahoy, Rotterdam
July 11-13, 2008

The 33rd North Sea Jazz Festival was a showcase of epic proportions. 15 different stages in the Ahoy Centre played host to 200 artists; venues varied in size from large concert halls like the Amazon, Darling and Hudson to smaller, more intimate spaces and cavernous stadiumesque acoustic settings. With so much talent and variety on offer, it was very difficult deciding what to see: intriguing as it was to scout out obscure names on small stages, the lure of the jazz A-List often proved a little too tempting.

A festival day typically ran from between 4-5 pm until around 2 am, with an earlier start and finish on Sunday. Perhaps one improvement would be to have fewer performance spaces and always begin a little earlier, thus lessening the potential for agenda clashes and needing to leave gigs early. Nevertheless, the event was a sublime feat of organisational professionalism. Nearly everything ran on time--a trait almost unheard of in the jazz world--and, with 70,000 visitors over three days, there obviously weren't many other complaints.

The key to drawing such a large attendance was undoubtedly the choice of several blatantly non-jazz headliners for prime slots on the biggest stages: Gnarls Barkley, Paul Simon and Chaka Khan stand as cases in point. However, one can bear no grudges as this pop factor was heavily saturated in the majority of the programme's content. Also, any strategy that can entice mainstream music fans into this metaphorical dark den of underground jazz demons cannot be faulted--it was awesome to see so many people at a festival of this nature.

Day 1 - Friday, July 11

In retrospect, the festival's opening day was a relaxed prelude for things to come. First up was Charles Lloyd and his exciting quartet featuring Jason Moran (piano), Reuben Rogers (bass) and Eric Harland (drums). Now 70, the saxophonist was sporting a snappy ensemble with shaded glasses and his trademark beret. His performance, however, was unexpectedly disjointed: while Moran, Harland and Rogers were very much locked in together, Lloyd's playing was strangely disconnected, almost as if he were operating on a different level from his rhythm section. This disparity could have been due to evident teething problems for the sound crew on the Hudson stage--it all seemed much too quiet, with snatches of other gigs drifting in quite audibly.

David S. Ware's performance in the atmospheric Missouri tent was another matter. Despite the music's obviously more open nature, a band consisting of iconic improviser William Parker on bass, impressive drummer Nasheet Waits and guitarist Joe Morris conveyed a greater sense of unity and understanding--with the occasional exception of uncertain contributions (or simple lack thereof) from the slightly confused-looking Morris. Ware's penetrating style was at its most potent, switching from textured, breathy phrases to full-on squawks, screams and extended streams of notes. Casual festival-goers wandering in received a shocking blast of the contemporary avant garde; many looked rather perplexed, if not equally fascinated, by the raw, edgy tonal quality of this skull-capped elderly gentleman who sat down for the show's entirety. In spite of slightly frail appearances, Ware and Parker remain at the forefront of the free jazz movement. Collaboration with younger players like Waits has clearly given them a new lease of life and opened a fresh streak of creativity.

Next to perform on the same stage was London's Led Bib, a free improv group spearheaded by Zorn disciple Mark Holub. The dynamic quintet of two alto saxophones, organ/piano, drums and bass catalyses an infectious sense of energy which fills the room--as does the manic, twisted punk-jazz freeform fusion sound of the band. Holub's hyperactive drumming is the motor, supported by solid bass work from Liran Donin. This hard base of noise allows the keys player and the saxes to break out with wild solos, often working in twos or all at once. Most remarkable, however, is the way they can snap back together as a tight unit, in the blink of an eye, after riotous passages of collective improvisation; tunes are typically built around sax-led melodic ideas that act as reference points. Led Bib has a small cult following back in London town and it was great to see the music export so well: a full house of absorbed onlookers emitted frequent shrieks of encouragement. This loud, passionate and unpredictable band will surely turn a few heads at many more festivals in the not-so-distant future.

Unfortunately there was no time for the full Led Bib enlightenment, as people were flocking to see Herbie Hancock and his elite quintet on the Hudson stage. Dave Holland (bass), Chris Potter (sax), Lionel Loueke (guitar) and Vinnie Colaiuta (drums) joined the legendary keysman for a thorough workout of the standard funk repertoire. It was highly enjoyable to behold Potter tearing through solos on a selection of familiar tunes, with the exception of Loueke's complicated composition "17" (yes, it has 17 beats), but one couldn't help thinking Hancock might have been more ambitious in his choices. The capacity crowd went mad for the likes of "Cantaloupe Island," "Watermelon Man" and "Chameleon," which were delivered in expected fine style, but many will have been disappointed not to see something more exploratory from a man with such a rich history of innovation. The closest they got to post-bop was Wayne Shorter's "Footprints." Holland stood out with a long, lyrical introduction on his own, and Hancock's harmonically cryptic solo was somewhat spoiled by heavy-handed clumsiness from Colaiuta, who is an incredible funk drummer but seems to lack a subtler side. Hancock was also guilty of indulging in keytar duels with Loueke and Potter (the latter of which he most certainly lost) and didn't seem able to keep hands off his rather cheap-sounding synth. But it definitely wasn't a bad gig by any means and, bearing in mind Hancock's recent slant towards the mainstream market, it probably wasn't a great surprise either.

Another father figure of funk, bassist Bootsy Collins, was due to finish the night in the Nile arena--a vast standing space with tiered seating at the sides. The gig was an extremely bizarre experience for several reasons. First of all, before Collins even got on stage, the audience was treated to lengthy semantics from a series of sideshow acts which hadn't been listed on the festival itinerary. A dancing three-piece singing skewed mashups of James Brown tunes was followed by an indiscernible rapper and a relatively decent instrumental funk group. It emerged that the whole event was conceived as a tribute to the Godfather of Soul himself--a credible notion in principle. However, a woefully dire performance from a lady named Vicki Anderson (apparently a former JB backing singer), whose voice sounded like fingernails scraping down a chalkboard, pushed patience to its limit. Collins had still not materialised, and there was a feeling that only his appearance could restore a semblance of dignity to proceedings.

It didn't. Collins finally came out but, rather than stepping forward to lead a storming set of original material, stood back as an impostor James Brown took the spotlight. Indeed, someone pretending to be the deceased King of Funk. He wasn't a bad singer, but anyone trying to imitate Brown's towering talent and unique stage presence is bound to fail. And, as if it couldn't have got any weirder, Brown's controversial widow, Tomi Rae Hynie, was next on stage to deliver a couple more horribly out-of-tune covers. It was time to leave.

Admirable as it is to honour James Brown the musical legend, questions must be raised about the way it was attempted. The whole spectacle was, quite frankly, a crass parody. It seemed like a bad dream. As a man who was famed for high standards and relentless pursuit of musical perfection, Brown must be turning in his grave. It looked like a cheap shot on the part of former colleagues to make as much money as possible from his legacy. But, even so, why did it have to be done in such a tactless, unethical manner? Perhaps the most disturbing, lamentable fact is that Collins and trombonist Fred Wesley, who also performed, have compromised their own values and integrity in associating with such a terrible production. It really was an insult to the memory of the great JB: he deserves better.

Day 2 - Saturday, July 12

After the extraordinary anti-climax of Friday night, something to heal the faith was certainly needed. It came in the form of Pat Metheny and his superb trio with drummer Antonio Sanchez and Christian McBride on bass. Playing to a sell-out crowd in the Amazon hall (tickets for concerts there had been sold separately to festival day passes), he emerged on his own for a couple of solo numbers to start the show. The first was largely chordal and had a little country twang, played with a powerful empathy that disguised its relative simplicity. Relative, that is, to what Metheny was about to play on his custom-made 42-string guitar. Somehow managing to hold a bassline with his left hand and a varying series of chords and motifs on the other three sections of the instrument, it was a mesmerising display. It set the scene for what was to follow; Sanchez and McBride came out to join and were perfect partners. The drummer's skittering, busy, polyrhythmic style was complemented by McBride's knack for always finding the right balance: he didn't use too many notes and played brilliantly within himself, clearly below the limits of his virtuoso technique.

Dropping in to catch a few minutes of Victor Wooten on the Maas stage--a huge, echoing space also used for a tennis tournament--was not the shrewdest decision. Of Flecktones fame, Wooten is an electric bass player par excellence. Countless videos of him performing ridiculously difficult technical stunts exist on YouTube. However, it is a shame to report that his band's music comes nowhere near this level of instrumental proficiency: tacky, cheesy and soulless, it is often geared towards generating showmanship opportunities for Victor and his guitarist brother Regi. There was no coherence. The only moment worth seeing was when the band went off stage entirely, leaving Victor alone to perform a few neat little tricks with his bass and a loop pedal.

The Bad Plus is one of the big jazz success stories of recent years. A young, eager standing audience had assembled in the Yukon tent and provided a rapturous welcome. From the start of the gig, it was clear the progressive trio go for a lot more when they play live. Drummer David King was exemplary in his scuttling crossrhythmic approach, throwing random accents onto different beats with joyous animated energy--he looked like a man possessed by the sheer exuberance of making music. The first few tunes, including "Big Eater," were as expected: crunchy, hard-hitting piano riffs combined with moments of delicate dynamic interaction as the three musicians rose and fell as one. Things took a turn for the worse, however, when kooky singer Wendy Lewis was presented. Billed as a new feature of upcoming album For All I Care, her wailing, moany vocals were off key at times--perhaps intentionally? She didn't add a great deal to the band's signature sound. One wonders about the reasoning for getting her involved in a group that has done so well with its instrumental concepts. In any case, maybe it is too early to pass judgement: it will be very interesting to hear the new CD when it appears.

Then it was a quick call on saxophonist David Sanchez. The Puerto Rican tenorman played in the Yenisei venue, a pleasant little room reminiscent of inner city jazz clubs. Sadly his set was drawing to a close, but there was enough time to see that Sanchez is very much back on the scene. This year he released Cultural Survival (Concord, 2008), a long-awaited disc to follow the Grammy-nominated Coral (Columbia, 2004). Backed by an able group of Lage Lund (guitar), Orlando Le Fleming (bass) and Henry Cole (drums), his lean, heavy tone was given ample space to live and breathe.

British saxophonist/flautist Finn Peters was on stage in the Murray tent, and there was time to catch a couple of tunes before going back to the Amazon for Wayne Shorter's headline show. Peters, who recently released his second album Butterflies (Accidental, 2008), was joined by stellar sidemen from the London circuit--including bassist Tom Herbert and pianist Tom Cawley, both of Acoustic Ladyland and Polar Bear fame. The result was an ambitious mix of crossover music drawing on influences as broad as Indonesian Gamelan and pulsating Afrobeat grooves, with a jazz undercurrent running through. It was pleasing to note these original concepts translate better into a live show than they appear on the record, which comes across as rather airy and lacking punch. Peters clearly possesses a high degree of musical knowledge; it would have been great to see him really let go with solos, but he is perhaps more a thinker than a showman. Nevertheless, this was a valuable contribution to the festival, a strong representation of the vibrant new UK jazz scene which is constantly growing in stature.

It was difficult knowing what to expect from Wayne Shorter. The only certain fact was that his quartet would be performing with the Imani Winds, a contemporary ensemble of flute, clarinet, oboe, bassoon and French horn. Imani opened proceedings, playing a complex Shorter original and a delightfully layered arrangement of Astor Piazzolla's "Libertango." Shorter then emerged with his all-star band featuring Danilo Perez (piano), John Patitucci (bass) and Brian Blade (drums). Each of these musicians has an outstanding track record, so to see them congregate with a legend such as Shorter sends any informed jazz fan into spasms of excitement.

They did not disappoint. The long opening piece built up through gentle movements, with Blade texturising and Patitucci alternating between arco and pizzicato. It was easy to detect a large improvised element in this dense exploration of the traditional jazz quartet's orchestral possibilities. They were listening to each other and communicating through their instruments. As the spontaneous composition gained magnitude, Shorter's wailing interjections would occasionally bring him to the front of the mix without detracting from the collective emphasis. He has become a master exponent of the less is more approach. When the Imani Winds joined later, a stronger aspect of organisation surfaced. Passages of improvisation were separated by arching arabesque melodies and coloured with nuanced harmonies in a thoroughly entrancing, vividly captivating artistic soundscape.

Fascinatingly, many onlookers seemed puzzled and bewildered; some even walked out. Shorter's new brand of structureless creation is not designed for casual listeners. It is a mark of his significance to jazz that, at the age of 74, he is still pushing boundaries and making music as advanced and challenging as any of the young avant garde. To compare this with the overtly crowd-pleasing performance of Herbie Hancock is intriguing; despite their longstanding friendship, the two could not be much further apart in terms of artistic philosophy. Hancock was spotted in the audience--what could he have been thinking?

A break was needed to digest this mind-bending musical experience. Due to a late start on the Amazon, Shorter's gig had overrun--thus jeopardising plans to return to the Yukon for Acoustic Ladyland (pictured). However, reliable sources confirm the talismanic trailblazers of the UK scene's recent revival had indeed taken the festival by storm. Agents on the same stage also report that the infamous Soil & "Pimp" Sessions, a Japanese group questionably labelled "death jazz" by music mogul Gilles Peterson, garnered a wave of encores as they made a similarly resounding impact.

Like David Sanchez, James Carter cuts a mysterious figure to jazz insiders. Another unquestionably gifted player, the multi-instrumentalist suffered from the breakdown of Atlantic Records' jazz department in 2000. Present Tense (Emarcy, 2008) marked a welcome return to disc after three years, and he showcased material from the album during his late set on the Madeira stage. Carter captivated the audience with cheerful charisma in the opening moments, before launching into a Sidney Bechet tune on which his vivacious soprano wove an intricate web of dazzling ideas. He quickly established a penchant for volatile, expressive howls and honks that were perfectly placed within the context of every solo alongside many more innovative sonic devices. Tracks from the album such as "Bossa JC," "Bro. Dolphy" (a leading feature on bass clarinet) and the gut-busting "Hymn of the Orient" were all given similar treatment. Apart from the startling degree of virtuosic control on each instrument he picked up, Carter's magnanimity also shone. All members of the band were given unlimited opportunity to display their considerable skills, with the saxophonist even sitting out on a ballad so young trumpeter Curtis Taylor could take the lead. With this triumphant return to touring, James Carter has reminded the jazz world of his place at the zenith of leading saxophonists.

As if that wasn't enough music for one day, word was spreading about an after-hours jam session on the Hudson stage. Horacio "El Negro" Hernandez had finished early and invited Roy Hargrove, Bobby McFerrin and others to join an impromptu Latin jazz free-for-all which was highly entertaining to watch. McFerrin, the festival's Artist in Residence for 2008, stepped forward on the melodica and piano, and a constant interchange of musicians from different bands kept things moving til the very end.

Day 3 - Sunday, July 13

The final day was always going to be busy, with a couple of tricky schedule clashes to work around (Alisha Keys not being one of them). On the outdoor Harlem stage, situated at the front of the Ahoy centre, Dutch funk group Lefties Soul Connection was warming people up for things to come. Tight, compact and precise, it was music to generate a good mood. A couple of local brass bands also played a series of guerrilla corridor gigs at random times throughout the festival, always pleasing to encounter.

US saxophonist Rudresh Mahanthappa opened the afternoon in the Yenisei room. As Mahanthappa and abstract pianist Vijay Iyer are stalwart collaborators, it was a shame not to see the latter on stage. Instead, the role was filled by a more than able deputy: Craig Taborn. It was only possible to stay for the first couple of tunes, but the band appeared to be simmering nicely and poised to take off. Mahanthappa's leathery, sinuous alto slithered effusively through convoluted compositions; the opening number featured a meditative sax intro before cranking up the gears into fizzing post-bop. Irregular manipulations from drummer Dan Weiss provoked a gushing, frenzied solo from the saxophonist before Taborn took over with a torrent of challenging ideas, pulling and distorting the concept of rhythmic conformity into blurry shapes of his own creation.

The reason for leaving was a very good one. Gary Burton, Steve Swallow, Pat Metheny and Antonio Sanchez were performing together, under the auspices of revisiting the 1970s quartet which produced thoughtful, cinematic music often specially composed by outside sources. Burton's employment of electric guitar and bass had been a new phenomenon in the '60s, helping to break down barriers between jazz and rock. These striking features became entrenched in his fruitful collaboration with Metheny and bassist Swallow, which is evidently as alive today as it was 40 years ago. There was a strong sense of group understanding on stage as they played their own material and pieces by Chick Corea, Keith Jarrett and Carla Bley. Burton's pioneering four-stick vibes technique was hypnotic, and Swallow was outstanding with short, sweet solos that always hit the mark. Metheny made sparing use of his signature guitar tone, entailing a greater impact when it did appear--its effervescent, shimmering quality cut through the complex harmonic backdrop provided by vibes and bass and Sanchez's trademark hustle. Hopefully its current European tour will not be the last time this enthralling quartet reunites.

Bass player Mark Helias has been a busy figure on the New York improv scene since joining Anthony Braxton's group in 1977. His current project, "Open Loose," is a trio with drums and sax that does exactly what you would expect from its name. The music is understatedly progressive in that no instrument leaps to the front and you have to listen carefully to appreciate what's going on--it's nothing like the zealous free jazz of Ornette Coleman or John Coltrane. In the words of Helias, the music represents a "constant state of flux." The bassist and Tom Rainey on drums operate almost telepathically; Helias often fills the absent role of a chordal instrument with texturising harmonies high up the fingerboard. Dep saxophonist Ellery Eskin's tenor was a good match, blowing coolly and melodically; his approach placed clarity of thought above the notion of a piercing sound.

Next stop was the Darling Concert Hall for Brad Mehldau, who surprised everyone by piping up in Dutch--after which he would have endeared himself to the audience no matter how he'd played. Opening with a serene ballad, it got steadily more interesting: the next tune featured a light drum'n'bass beat from Jeff Ballard and a left-hand piano riff held in unison with bassist Larry Grenadier while Mehldau elaborated a cunning solo. Hard bop, Monk and Irving Berlin were all on the agenda, but the definite highlight was a gently lilting Latin number by Chico Buarque. It seemed to go on and on, with Mehldau giving a virtuoso display of calculated pianism in a solo which told a real story, taking each segment to harmonic exhaustion and holding spectators rapt with awe. This steadfastly unflashy, patient approach--tied in with an occasional minimalist aesthetic--has placed Mehldau firmly in the vanguard of modern pianists.

The danger of information overload was high after the sequence of Mahanthappa, Burton et al, Open Loose and Mehldau in quick succession. Luckily, there is no better person to avert one of those head-exploding moments than Maceo Parker--the legend of funk sax was playing the Nile stage with Germany's brutally efficient WDR Big Band. In a far classier show than Friday evening's disastrous James Brown tribute, they rattled through favourites like "Pass the Peas," "Shake Everything You've Got" and "To Be Or Not To Be," Parker's alto leading the way with fiery, funky licks and a razor sharp tone. It is a pertinent sign of his influence that, when another saxist came down from the bandstand to trade phrases with the master, her playing was eerily similar to the man himself. Parker also demonstrated a richly soulful singing voice as he crooned a couple of suave covers to honour the late, great Ray Charles.

On the Amazon stage, scene of some of the festival's brightest moments, Branford Marsalis and his excellent quartet brought the curtain down in fitting fashion. As an intermittently underrated contributor to the post-bop idiom, Marsalis has been working solidly with Joey Calderazzo (piano), Jeff "Tain" Watts (drums) and Eric Revis (bass), racking up thousands of air miles on the international tour circuit. The saxophonist is distinctive as a stylist who speaks with highly contrasting tonal voices on tenor and soprano: in the first place brawny and muscular, but with a delicate quavering vibrato as the hallmark of his sound on the smaller horn. Tain's composition "Return of the Jitney Man" was a forceful opening statement. Marsalis's tenor spewed out a cascade of blistering runs, and Calderazzo's burning lyrical lines bounced off the keys with verve and zest. A free-time ballad calmed things down as the drummer's rubato shading afforded space for a mournful, emotional soprano solo that evoked the essence of a funeral song. The group's variety of moods and ease in handling sophisticated compositional ideas is testament to Marsalis's skill as a leader. While his trumpeter brother Wynton remains a staunch protagonist of the old school modus operandi, it is wonderful to see Branford pushing the music forward with this terrific array of sidemen. He needs to hold onto them as long as he can.

A quick wander revealed the ultimate festival finale was in fact taking place back at the Nile arena, where veteran bluesman Buddy Guy was playing out to a boisterous pack of ecstatic revellers. Although most of the serious music seemed to have been and gone, Guy was in his element, shouting, singing, showboating on guitar and even leaving the stage to enter the crowd. He is an old expert at instigating a strong rapport with the audience so, when he finally exited to a mountainous cheer, there could have been no better way to finish the weekend.

Photo Credit
Andrew Hayes

Published @ allaboutjazz, 31/7/08 - click here for original.

Neil Cowley Trio: What's In A Name?

2008-07-25T14:00:00.002+04:00

Neil Cowley is a jazz musician who doesn’t listen to jazz. Frederick Bernas talks to him about his 20-year career on the piano stool.

When their debut album Displaced was released independently in 2006, the Neil Cowley Trio received mixed reactions. Conservative critics with a penchant for old school hard bop and pure, traditional jazz were quick to ridicule the newcomers as noisy, obtrusive, brusque showmen who didn’t improvise enough. However, dissenting voices were soon drowned out by an expanding legion of younger fans that flocked to the piano-hammering Cowley, relishing the raw energy and colourful emotion of his music.

“At early gigs, we had – bless them – the old blue rinse brigade show up quite a lot, put their fingers in their ears, and leave quite early,” says the pianist over a coffee in Chiswick, before a recording session with Adele at Metropolis Studios.

Since beginning his performance career aged 11, Cowley’s musical journey has been long and zig-zagged, with stops or U-turns at almost every junction. “I joined a pub blues band when I was 14,” he explains, “and from that point I wanted to do it for a living – it was sexy, you got into pubs underage and girls loved you. From the blues band I was introduced to contemporary black American music and discovered funk, soul, R&B and all that stuff.”

Cowley went on to join seminal funk outfit the Brand New Heavies, wearing flared trousers, playing Fender Rhodes and embarking on two world tours. “It was absolutely awesome, a pop spectacular way of living, a bit unrealistic in a way. It was a massive way to start and I’ve tried to diminish it into a world I can control ever since.”

Work with Zero 7 followed the Heavies gig, but after a period of busy touring it was time to settle down. He became one half of the critically successful chilled electronica group Fragile State, but in 2004 was forced to abandon the project as its record company liquidated. Time for another change: “I thought I would throw away the computer and focus on live music. We’d formed a jazz trio in 2002 and played standards, nothing too serious. But I started to realise I could have a voice within it and do something contemporary.”

Contemporary, indeed. Cowley’s group is the latest in a growing list of piano trios with the conventional jazz line-up that are pushing boundaries and breaking through the confines of the medium. The Bad Plus, the Esbjörn Svensson Trio (R.I.P. Esbjörn) and NY-based Israeli Avishai Cohen are among the frontrunners, but Cowley hesitates when asked about inevitable comparisons. “Strangely, I saw Esbjörn Svensson in 2002 and since then I’ve not listened to one single record, for fear of being subliminally influenced. Everyone says they hear those influences, whereas actually I avoid them like the plague because I don’t want to sound like them.”

The Trio’s second album, Loud… Louder… Stop! pays tribute to one of the aforementioned stuffy jazz purists – its title is a quote from a less than complimentary gig review. Cowley explains how “this guy saw us at the BBC Jazz Awards (where they won 2007 Album of the Year) and didn’t see what the fuss was all about,” before telling of how the group dealt with this apparent blow. “We thought ‘yeah, that’s genius really, it does sum up the band, he’s absolutely right and we’re not ashamed.’ So we named the new album Loud… Louder… Stop! and there’s a track called ‘Dinosaur Die’ which references that kind of thinking.”

The wit and cocky bravado which turned flak into flair has also worked its way into the Trio’s musical persona. A strong rapport exists between the three members; Cowley talks of the “usual smelly-men-on-tour antics” and a “collective sense of humour” they revel in. “We all get each other’s gags and jokes and that comes out on stage quite a lot. Throughout my early years I was dead scared to show any humour on stage – I thought it wasn’t credible to be flippant – but now we absolutely relish it. We relish coming out and not taking it too seriously, whereas before I took it extremely seriously. It’s good to be yourself on stage.”

This exciting live presence has won the Trio, which also features drummer Evan Jenkins and bassist Richard Sadler, a series of popular gigs in non-jazz settings. Recent appearances have been as diverse as Glastonbury, the Roundhouse (at Gilles Peterson’s ‘death jazz’ showcase), the Pizza Express Jazz Club (well, why not?) and Koko. Yes, the leading indie kid stomping ground. “We played at the iTunes festival,” Cowley explains. “It is odd, but they love it down there; they even put us up as Single of the Week. They can see the crossover potential, as it has something of the power trio about it.”

Herein lies the key to it all: crossover. Crudely speaking, it is a frightening power that can equally commit unspeakable crime (think jazz + pop = smooth jazz) and serve as a force for good (funk ÷ dub + poetry = hip-hop) in the artistic world. With Cowley’s highly varied career, it was perhaps inevitable he would end up pulling it all together into a complex amalgam of different genres: “I really don’t know what it is. On our MySpace page I put ‘neo-classical soul for shoegazers’ – it’s got everything we listen to in it. The format of the band is the jazz trio, but I hardly listen to jazz.”

Essentially, then, it is a jazz trio that doesn’t play jazz. Cowley appreciates that the band’s title has “made the battle harder” as it adopts the traditional naming system of jazz groups, but doesn’t seem overly fussed. “Obviously people are going to pigeonhole us because that’s what they do. Ultimately, they need to fit you somewhere in HMV, they need to put you in a section. You just need to put up with it and break on through – it’s all fusion really.”

And being bracketed does have its advantages. “There are a huge number of venues to play within jazz,” states Cowley, “so if you are someone who wants to play live, which I do, there’s no better genre to be part of. It’s having a revival in that sense – there are a huge number of places you can play and gigs you can target.”

“Our favourite pastime is converting people. We played at Glasgow Jazz Festival a few weeks ago and they put up a video of interviews with the audience. One guy said he had to drag two mates down to their first ever jazz gig and they were kicking and screaming; then they saw us play and were completely converted, they loved it.”

This widening appeal testifies that the modern mainstream can understand Neil Cowley’s music; a broad experience across different styles is arguably his strongest compositional tool. From driving, urgent, uplifting anthems to brooding, melancholically conscientious meditations, he uses a rich palette of mood and feeling with a distinct streak of confident humour. The Trio’s brash “balls-out” approach has emboldened with every gig – the blue rinse brigade certainly won’t be back for a while.

The Neil Cowley Trio play Pizza Express Jazz Club (0845 6027 017) on 24 July.

Published in London Tourdates magazine, 24/7/08.

Neil Cowley Trio - Koko, 20/7/08

2008-07-24T15:00:00.003+04:00

Neil Cowley Trio + Portico Quartet
Koko, Camden
Sunday, 20/7/08

Two of our jazz scene’s rising names graced the stage at Koko, a venue normally reserved for the very latest disposable indie bands. Kudos must go to the iTunes festival programmers: even though the total number of acts performing at the month-long free event is 62, they could quite easily have overlooked jazz altogether – and they would have gotten away with it.

Both the Portico Quartet and the Neil Cowley Trio have proven popular with open-minded music fans, aptly illustrated by crowd demographics. The cavernous multi-level auditorium was full of young faces, nodding heads and tapping feet.

Cowley’s anthemic attack of the piano and humorous approach are key factors in his trio’s recent success. A typical tune will see them build up and break down a melodic idea in various ways, often smashed out in clustered, crunchy chords and accompanied by a rocky backbeat. Stomping rhythmic vamps on the piano alternate with dynamic or textural shifts in a pattern which could get a little boring if changes were not perfectly timed. They are, and the effects euphoric – as in ‘His Nibs,’ recently dubbed iTunes Single of The Week for good reason.

Another example was ‘Clown Town,’ which does justice to its name – it sounds like the twisted theme tune of a drunken clown stumbling around. ‘Clumsy Couple’ could be more of the same thing. But it’s not all about the comedic aspect of songwriting. The trio can resist the urge to pounce; they are capable of maintaining a more nuanced mood and exploring it in itself, rather than using the gentler dynamic as a throwaway device to develop the opportunity for a grandstand finale. It’s still not exactly balladesque, but that is part of the appeal.

In a live setting the trio stretch out more than is evident on CD. There may not be a lot of bona fide improvisation, but there is a great degree of collective interaction around the groove – they work together as an incredibly tight unit. Cowley is an agile master of the keys and has learnt to make the most of his powerful technique, combining it with wit and charisma to create one of the most accessible jazz groups to emerge for some time.

Published @ jazzwisemagazine.com, 24/7/08 - click here for original.

Latin Funk Spectacular to hit Jazz Café

2008-07-22T14:00:00.000+04:00

Tuesday 29 July will see two acclaimed Latin funk collectives take to the Jazz Café stage in a special gig to showcase new albums on Aire Sol Records.

Hailed as one of the hardest-working and most exciting bands to emerge from the States in the last decade, Grupo Fantasma draws on a wide variety of influences from the 1960s’ Fania All-Stars through to folk-fusion wonderkid Manu Chao. Sonidos Gold, released in June this year, is described by bandleader Adrian Quesada as “the one we’ve wanted to make from the beginning,” and features guest appearances from, among others, legendary saxist Maceo Parker. Prince is also a designated star fan, having given the 10-piece group a two-month residency at his Las Vegas nightclub.

Homenaje, the debut album from label-mates Brownout, was two-and-a-half years in the making. It was worth waiting for. Simmering, acerbic grooves, catchy guitar riffs and richly funky solos come as standard. It’s impossible not to feel the energetic party vibes - the CD is one to turn up and play loud, which almost always translates into a highly enjoyable live experience. In fact, you probably won’t be surprised to find out that the eight members of Brownout all play in Grupo Fantasma.

There is clearly a deep pool of talent in Austin, Texas — the home city of both groups. More importantly, they have evidently worked incredibly hard to bring their music to a global audience: the label was formed in 1999. Now they are reaping the rewards, with distribution deals and festival appearances to take things to a new level. Watch out.

Links:
Grupo Fantasma - www.grupofantasma.com / www.myspace.com/fantasmics
Brownout! - www.myspace.com/brownoutmusic / www.brownoutmusic.blogspot.com
Aire Sol Records - www.myspace.com/airesolrecord

Published @ Fly, 22/7/08 - click here for original.

New wave of UK jazz groups shine at Europe’s biggest jazz festival

2008-07-21T14:00:00.002+04:00

North Sea Jazz Festival
11-13 July 2008
Ahoy, Rotterdam

A veritable Who’s Who of contemporary jazz was on the bill at the 33rd North Sea Jazz Festival, with titanic names like Herbie Hancock and Wayne Shorter alongside an exciting selection of newcomers. Empirical, Led Bib, Finn Peters, Acoustic Ladyland and others represented the vibrant new UK scene – highlighted as an official theme of this year’s event.

Hancock, with his all-star quintet of Chris Potter, Dave Holland, Lionel Loueke and Vinnie Colaiuta, played to a rapturous audience on Friday night. They delivered the standard funk repertoire with expected finesse, but Hancock was guilty of over-indulgent synth use and an extended keytar solo. The set of recycled classics was immeasurably crowd-pleasing, but it laid bare Hancock’s recent shift towards the mainstream market.

If Hancock has become increasingly commercial, Wayne Shorter is his new arch-nemesis. The saxophonist’s quartet gave the most progressive performance on any stage. A long, undulating, largely spontaneous composition, based on collective empathy and listening to one another, puzzled many onlookers. When the Imani Winds joined in, a hint of orchestrated structure came with them: a spiralling, arabesque theme punctuated moments of free improv, thoroughly absorbing those people brave enough to stay. At 74, Shorter’s creative fire is still burning; his music is as advanced and challenging as any of the young avant garde.

On smaller stages, Acoustic Ladyland gave a typically storming performance and Led Bib drew screams of encouragement with the grimy, punky persona spearheaded by Zorn disciple Mark Holub. Both are surely more ‘death jazz’ than Soil & “Pimp” Sessions, recently dubbed as such by Gilles Peterson, whose high-octane display of backbeat hard bop received repeated encores. James Carter was also in fine form – his consummate virtuosity, passionately gritty tone and constant flow of ideas firmly places him among the top saxophonists of today.

A remarkable 70,000 visitors attended the festival, which spanned 200 shows across 15 stages in only three days. Its position as the highest-profile jazz showcase in Europe is hard to dispute.

Published @ jazzwisemagazine.com, 21/7/08 - click here for original.

Blink - Blink

2008-07-11T15:00:00.000+04:00

Blink: Blink
LOOP Records

The latest offering from London’s infamous LOOP Collective, this eponymous debut features an unconventional bass-less trio of pianist Alcyona Mick, Robin Fincker on tenor sax and clarinet and drummer Paul Clarvis. All demonstrate considerable capabilities in the field of loose, open jazz which is experimental yet accessible.

Mick’s command of the low registers and occasionally percussive propulsion compensates for the lack of bassist, providing part of a stimulating backdrop for Fincker’s lean, airy tones to trace a weaving path. As if liberated, Clarvis shines in his use of textural variations away from the idea of a steady pulse.

This is ‘free’ jazz, but not in the extreme. Compositional similarities can be made to the likes of Polar Bear, The Blessing and Led Bib – a clear element of free-form collective improvisation is offset by a reticent yet unpredictable sense of control and direction. The balance has been finely cultivated, with track length maintained at a modest five-minute average: none of the solos are over-indulgent or tiring.

< Published in London Tourdates, 11/7/08.

Kenny Garrett - Ronnie Scott's, 2/7/08

2008-07-09T16:30:00.004+04:00

Hackneyed cliché it may be, but Kenny Garrett really has done it all. Work with names such as Duke Ellington, Miles Davis and Herbie Hancock provides a mere glimpse of his glittering CV, augmented by recording dates for labels including Atlantic, Warner and Nonesuch.

At Ronnie’s he was joined by Lennie Stalworth on bass, Jeff Motley on organ and impressive young drummer Justin Brown. The opening number was reminiscent of Davis’s late fusion group, in which Garrett prominently featured, and he opted to play his alto through a variety of electronic effects. Its fluid, shimmering tone was cheapened to the level of poor quality synth sax and struggled for penetration above the bustling band.

This alarming trait continued, with Garrett often abandoning his horn to join Motley on a second keyboard. Not a wise move. Indeed, it was Brown on drums who threw up the most surprises; his energetic, imaginative cross-rhythmic ideas saved many tunes from turning into drearily predictable elevator music.

Garrett’s apparent preference for cheesy smooth jazz in the vein of near-namesake jazz pariah Kenny G will leave purists foaming at the mouth. A final grandstand version of ‘Happy People’ served as the perfect example: with its gospelesque organ vamps and cringingly catchy sing-along sax melody, accompanied by animated calls from Garrett to bring the crowd to its feet for repeated choruses, it represented an undeniable trend of “selling out” to popular appeal.

The performance’s jazz merit was questionable – especially in relation to Garrett’s established post-bop credentials. However, if judged only against itself, it cannot fail to satisfy. The skull-capped saxophonist’s open defiance of “Quiet Please” jazz club decorum demands respect. How often does a full house at Ronnie Scott’s rise as one to sing, dance and applaud? Traditionalists will always take issue, but lovers of enjoyable good-time music have a powerful counterargument.

Published at jazzwise.com, 9/7/08.

The Heliocentrics / Flying Lotus - Thekla, 7/6/08

2008-06-08T21:30:00.001+04:00

Bristol's ambitious Venn Festival came to the end of its fifth year in spectacular fashion with a showpiece evening at Thekla on Sunday 7/6/08.

Californian DJ/producer Flying Lotus, a.k.a. Steven Ellison, warmed the crowd up with a frenzied sequence of myriad beats – drum&bass, hip-hop, techno and more – and frequent lightning embellishments from a drum machine. His rapid synchronisation of different songs and effortless mixing skills were perhaps only outshone by the sheer joy he displayed at performing for a packed house in the underbelly of Bristol's favourite maritime venue: a broad grin was present throughout the set, as heavy sheets of bass thundered out of Thekla's formidable soundsystem. His new album Los Angeles is definitely one to look out for.

Given top billing by festival organisers, The Heliocentrics are famed for collaboration with groundbreaking producers DJ Shadow and Madlib, as well as legendary Ethiopian jazzman Mulatu Astatke. The nine-piece ensemble, spearheaded by the robotic precision of drummer Malcolm Catto, was suitably eclectic in its delivery of an unclassifiable concoction of jazz, hip-hop, funk, Afrobeat and avant-garde fusion – offset by a distinctly Portisheadesque tendency to explore new ways of melding diverse musical colours into rich soundscapes with an added element of free improvisation in the mix.

From mesmerising, hypnotic, trance-inducing grooves to upbeat, bouncy melodies and catchy riffs, the band traversed genre and mood in a way few other groups can pull off. The blend of such ingredients as electric violin, musical saw, baritone sax, electronic oddities and sultry, blues-infused vocal lines provided an unpredictable panorama of texture and tonality. A strong sense of collective chemistry is ever-present: it acts as the glue binding together this psychedelic labyrinth of musical tongues and dialects. Along with Catto's immovable rhythmic foundation, it serves as the constant factor in an eternally shifting atmosphere of captivating audio illusions.

Venn Festival: www.vennfestival.com
The Heliocentrics: www.myspace.com/heliocentrics
Flying Lotus: www.myspace.com/flyinglotus

Published @ Fly, 21/6/08 - click here for original.

Ponto de Equilíbrio - Abre a Janela

2008-05-30T21:00:00.001+04:00

Formed in a Rio de Janeiro hippy refuge in 1999, Ponto de Equilíbrio blend traditional aspects of roots reggae with musical flavours from across Brazil into an utterly distinctive and highly refreshing individual sound.

The group's second album, Abre a Janela, conveys a similarly diverse selection of moods and emotions, from deep, mellow grooves such as 'Janela Da Favela,' to summery upbeat songs like 'Verdaderio Valor' or 'Tão Bela' and a delightful cover of Bob Marley's classic 'Soul Rebel'.

Lead singer Helio Bentes plays the expected principal role with a richly animated and passionate voice, perfect for reggae. However, this does not deprive other band members of opportunities to express themselves. All the songs are finely structured with verses often sparingly allocated, augmented by the hovering ghostly presence of sweet female backing vocals and sharp horn arrangements. It is certainly more than a sum of its musical parts, tailored wonderfully by producer Chico Neves.

'Ponto de Equilíbrio' translates as 'Point of Equilibrium' – an excellent reflection of the myriad of musical characters present, all balanced and brought out in equal measure. No single element is dominant or overriding. Afro-Brazilian dance rhythms such as maculele, capoeira and maracatu, as well as dub and ska, are all underpinned by the constant spirit and feel of roots reggae.

On another level, the band name references the balance point between equality and love, injustice and war, and political messages are present on several tracks. 'O Inimigo' (The Enemy), for example, is an attack on the Brazilian establishment. It represents a fervent cry for people to fight the well-documented social segregation and racial discrimination which ravages Brazilian society. Spiky horn stabs punctuate the opening verses, and a later passage of rapped lyrics over minimal dub background provides an interesting contrast.

Abre a Janela is a set of tunes as colourful and striking as its album artwork. It captures the sheer diversity of history, culture and life in Brazil – each track has its own distinct personality. Neves has succeeded in harnessing the considerable powers of this talented band and making them sound great: the CD has been on daily rotation since it arrived, which is possibly the greatest praise any record can receive.

Published @ Fly, 30/5/08 - click here for original.

James Carter - Present Tense

2008-05-24T15:00:00.000+04:00

James Carter may not yet be forty, but he possesses a degree of instrumental mastery which could easily be a lifetime's work. At different stages of this record, the versatile multi-instrumentalist plays tenor, soprano and baritone saxophones as well as flute and bass clarinet, all with equal power and precision.

This diverse approach to instrumental voicing is reflected in the range of material selected for Present Tense, Carter's first outing as a leader since 2005. From pacey post-bop inflections to silky Latin sensibilities and delicately nuanced ballad playing, it's all here. Producer Michael Cuscuna was keen to capture Carter's varied musical palette on a single disc, and by all evidence has done a fine job.

"Song of Delilah," an old favourite of Clifford Brown and Sonny Rollins, receives a modern hip-hop treatment from drummer Victor Lewis and bassist James Genus, and features Carter dueling with himself on two overdubbed tenor sax tracks. "Hymn of the Orient" is the record's unexpected gem, spotlighting Carter's baritone expertise and a series of lively interchanges with Lewis and Dwight Adams on trumpet. In terms of the leader's own writing, "Bro. Dolphy" is a composition of shifting moods and movements that climaxes with a furious face-off between trumpet and bass clarinet.

Carter has succeeded in assimilating the old school and simultaneously applying a contemporary personal touch to this great set of aptly chosen tunes. Trademark expressive, colorful solos are present for all to enjoy but despite occasional flamboyance, nothing ever sounds out of place: his improvisation is characterized by a wonderful coherence of thought, with ideas and motifs flowing effortlessly together in a way so many sax showmen struggle to grasp.

Present Tense may not go down in jazz history as a landmark recording, but it is an excellent CD which has done pleasing justice to the multi-dimensional talents of this modern master. James Carter's music is relentlessly fresh and enticing - remember the name.

Published @ allaboutjazz.com, 24/5/08 - click here for original.

These Acoustics Can Electrify

2008-05-15T21:00:00.008+04:00

Pete Wareham is on a musical crusade: Acoustic Ladyland's frontman abandoned the traditional jazz direction to discover his real identity. Frederick Bernas heard all about it.

It wasn't a typical jazz club crowd. Over 100 standing people, overwhelmingly young, crammed into Dalston's Vortex to watch four musicians tear through a set of short, thrashy, piercing songs; this definitely wasn't a typical jazz club performance. No. It is exactly what Pete Wareham envisioned when the sound of his band transformed into a manic punk-jazz-rock hybrid that can be heard on the albums Last Chance Disco and Skinny Grin.

"I wanted to connect with people who were my age, because a lot of the time people were at least 20 years older than me," he explains. "I reached a point about five or six years ago where I got a bit confused because I'd gone so far down the jazz route and realised it wasn't really who I was. I grew up listening to Hendrix, Led Zepellin, Velvet Underground and things like that. Playing the saxophone and listening to all that rock music was like two worlds I could never join together."

These motivations led Wareham to a new journey, looking at how his instrument could function in a non-jazz context: "One of the big things was trying to explore life as a saxophonist outside playing jazz. I wanted to express my feelings for guitars and vocals because the saxophone can do those things as well, but I had to find a way to play in a rock context that didn't sound like 'rock sax', which is quite a dodgy area." Amen to that.

On the issue of jazz tradition, he admits maintaining a certain element – "I don't think it's about turning your back on tradition, it's just about not letting tradition intimidate you into thinking you can't be who you are. You've got to develop your own personal approach, trying to find the things you like without being a slave to those things."

Acoustic Ladyland's profound evolution is reflected in the fact that, technically, the name of the band is now completely misleading – the songs are far from acoustic. Its genre has been widely discussed but remains ambiguous, perhaps due to Wareham's reluctance to associate with popular pigeon-holing. "I don't know what genre it is. It's just all the types of music I like and we're trying to squeeze them together," he states hesitantly.

"I think a lot of people have us down as an experimental avant garde jazz band, which we're totally not, and I don't really care," he continues, with a bitter note in his voice. "I don't really give a shit to be honest; I'm getting so sick of industry bullshit that I don't care now. It's all bullshit. People are being lazy, trying to avoid having to carefully describe something based on what they feel. They just want a quick fix."

Indeed, the phrase 'punk jazz' has been frequently touted in connection to the emerging crop of progressive thinkers such as Wareham and drummer Sebastian Rochford. "In some ways the term 'punk jazz' makes me feel sick, but in other ways I quite like it. I like the idea of jazz having become such a studied and perfect thing and for it to be combined with trashy, simple, short songs which have real freedom and attitude. That's what punk represents to me. Jazz needs a bit of that, a bit of opening up.

"I didn't want us to be put in the little jazz corner, I want to be pitched against the best bands in the world. That's not because I think we are one of the best bands in the world or anything like that, but just because I want a fair crack of the whip, not to be marginalised in a little cupboard. No, it's music, and everyone should be allowed to get into it and not think they won't bother because it's jazz."

This question of jazz apathy amongst audiences is an interesting one – it's clear that Acoustic Ladyland has succeeded in accessing a far broader target group than hardcore devotees of the genre. "There are loads of people who have never listened to jazz before who love us and want to get into it after hearing we're from a jazz background, so we tell them about Mingus and all these brilliant things. Mingus was more punk rock than anyone around now."

Wareham has positive thoughts about the British jazz scene's current health, but speaks scathingly of the music industry in general. "There are a lot of new bands in the rock and pop world which are doing well, but they're not doing anything like what the hype suggests and they don't last very long. An awful lot of good music gets overlooked because it hasn't got the tag of being this or that, and I think this has been going on for centuries. The media and society always feel like it's new and different, but if you look at the Victorian age the same thing was going on."

Is there any hope for improvement? "It's always the same, I don't think it's ever going to change. It's just up to individuals not to moan about it and find a way round." Acoustic Ladyland's defiant musical persona certainly comes through in the words of its leader – "My view is that punk attitude. I was listening to The Clash on the way here, Joe Strummer singing 'If you lock me out, I'll kick your door in', and that's the thing for me: find your own way of doing it, don't just moan about the inherent problems."

One problem faced by many bands is currently afflicting Wareham: label difficulties. Despite the success of Skinny Grin, released on V2 in 2006, the company has since been bought by Universal and appears unenthusiastic. "We haven't got a record deal at the moment and I'm looking for one," Wareham elaborates. "I'm talking to anyone who can be arsed to phone me back, which seems to be very few people. It seems a standard thing to have a meeting with somebody who says they'll call you next week, but you never hear back. Apparently that's just the way it is, so fair enough. It's just stupid because they could have a really fucking brilliant thing going on if they were a bit more aware."

This is an obvious reference to recent Ladyland gigs, which have drawn large crowds across the country. Wareham is not overly worried about the next album, even in the midst of the label dilemma - "I'm not going to do it until I'm ready. I did have a timescale, but it's been blown out by various record companies not doing what they've promised. The music has taken on its own timescale and when it's really firing I think everything will fall into place.

"We're absolutely full throttle at the moment and the music is the best we've ever done. The band feels the best it's ever felt and we're really moving forward. Hopefully someone with a bit of nous somewhere will realise and make themselves known." Any takers?

< Published in London Tourdates magazine, 15/5/08.

Antibalas / The Budos Band - Jazz Café, 19/4/08

2008-04-20T18:00:00.004+04:00

A perfect warm-up for what was to come, The Budos Band took to the stage with well-synchronised, driving compositions and sharp melodies, matching the flawless studio sound of their two releases on Daptone Records. Definitely worth a headline slot in future, it surely will not be long before this materialises.

The 11-man force that is Antibalas didn't fail to make expected impact, playing a two-hour marathon set which built in momentum. Layers of polyrhythmic percussion were augmented by dual guitars and a horn section which never missed a trick. The band radiated a powerful, vigorous energy to get the whole place moving.

Hailing from Brooklyn, New York, this eclectic collective has assimilated roots knowledge of Afrobeat and infused rich flavours of funk, jazz, Latin and folk into a unique musical recipe. There is also a distinct political edge to many tunes, such as the bitterly rebellious 'Indictment', furiously orated by a rabble-rousing saxophonist on a mission to stir up the primarily London-yuppy crowd.

Even in calmer moments, the standard formula produced hypnotic, trance-inducing grooves ideal for the array of talented soloists to let rip on. Famed for random appearances at street parties all over NYC, Antibalas often play three or four hours. It wouldn't have got boring.

< Published (in part) in London Tourdates magazine, 15/5/08.

Polar Bear - Ronnie Scott's, 8/4/08

2008-04-09T15:00:00.000+04:00

London's famous jazz club has been going through troubled times. In December 2007 its artistic director resigned amidst criticism that the venue's booking policy was veering away from the mainstream, hard jazz it is known for.

Considering such complaints, it was surprising to see Polar Bear in the listings. Led by drummer Sebastian Rochford, the group has recently established itself as a trailblazer on the UK's progressive jazz scene. Rochford is joined by a stellar array of musicians. The front line consists of saxophonists Mark Lockheart and Pete Wareham (also leader of Acoustic Ladyland), supported by electronics guru Leafcutter John and bassist Tom Herbert, formerly of Acoustic Ladyland and a long-time associate of Rochford and Wareham.

The musical relationship between this core trio drives the band forward on its journey into the realms of what many people see as the future of jazz. Intricate, interwoven compositions come as standard, with the two tenor saxes moving between moments of complementing one another with rich countermelodies and fiercely duelling each other to a backdrop of frenzied polyrhythms and blasts of seemingly random noise. Such a group of talented players on the same wavelength, completely in the element and bringing the best out in each other, is gripping to witness.

However, much of the loud chaos of Polar Bear's Bristol gig in May 2007 was sadly not replicated. Most tunes took on a familiar feel—darkly cinematic, brooding—but a sense of increased sobriety, or palatability, may have been stipulated by the club. Lockheart and Wareham frequently stepped off stage as metaphorical dust settled. The band's collective emphasis shifted to accentuating the fine subtleties of Rochford's compositions, with occasional moments of sudden crescendo that disrupted the mood of the jazz diners. Not a bad performance, but the atmosphere was very subdued in relation to previous experience.

It is a shame that one of the country's most exciting groups may have had to tone itself down at a venue which should encourage the opposite. If outside pressure is not the explanation, this move simply represents a dramatic change in the band's dynamic. Perhaps all will become clear at the Colston Hall in Bristol on April 20, when Polar Bear returns, and with the upcoming album on Tin Angel Records.

Published at allaboutjazz.com, 19/4/08 - click here for original.

Robert Mitchell & Omar Puente - St Cyprian's, 1/4/08

2008-04-02T15:00:00.001+04:00

This unlikely duo of acoustic piano and electric violin allows Robert Mitchell and Omar Puente to stretch their considerable abilities beyond the confines of a conventional jazz group. Perhaps more unconventional was the venue, literally a Church of Jazz, tucked away near Baker Street in central London.

This was the perfect acoustic for such a performance. Mitchell and Puente played a variety of standards, originals and a couple of Spanish songs, on which the Cuban violinist also sang. A highlight was Mitchell's composition 'Envoy,' a tricky piece in seven. The pianist demonstrated his outstanding technique during an extended solo: his left hand would often hold a basic riff while the right took the lead, but he was not afraid to turn things around with the right maintaining fast sequences while the left struck down percussively or elaborated an improvised countermelody.

Puente also displayed the breadth of his technique, frequently switching between arco and pizzicato – the latter often offering provocative interjections during Mitchell solos. When the roles were reversed, Puente took the central position with intense, fiery improvisation that has won him sideman gigs with Courtney Pine, Denys Baptiste and others. His compositions were varied, expansive and occasionally complex, proving he is equally gifted with pen and bow; 'Swings and Roundabouts' is a work of several movements, from cautious overture through to intricately lyrical melodies and sharp bursts of simultaneous percussive co-ordination. 'Somebody Backstage' reflects the same diverse character, but takes more of a relaxed ballad feel.

A finely honed understanding exists between these two musicians, who really bring out the best in each other. It's great that the F-IRE Collective has enabled this wonderful rapport to be captured on CD: Bridges was released in 2006. The partnership is a breath of fresh air for devout jazz fans and accessible enough for lovers of classical chamber music to enjoy.

Published @ allaboutjazz.com, 23/4/08 - click here for original.

Richard Bona - Jazz Cafe, 30/3/08

2008-03-31T20:00:00.001+04:00

It's an incredible story. Born in a small village in Cameroon, Richard Bona was raised by a musical household and developed a talent for building instruments. As a teenager he was inspired to take up bass guitar after hearing Jaco Pastorius. In 1995 he moved to New York and has flourished into an international star.

That is the short version. At the Jazz Café Bona quickly established a rapport with his audience, cracking a few jokes while the sound man sorted out an errant monitor. His warm sense of humour shone through at frequent intervals, such as a moment of mocking the classic lack of rhythm suffered by many gig-goers in this country.

Two exceptional elements of the music stood out: Bona's expressive, sweet-sounding, flexible voice and his equally dexterous bass playing. Both were drawn together for a trademark display of simultaneous scat-singing and blistering finger-picking, his left hand speeding up and down the fretboard with virtuosic precision. Interested readers are advised to check out youtube for examples of this unique capability.

Moods varied from relaxed ambience to deeper, sharper grooves and a regrettable smattering of smooth jazz. A couple of Kenny-G-esque numbers were only saved by the charm of Bona's vocals and a steady Latin undercurrent provided by percussionist Samuel Torres. However, the evening's highlight was when the multinational backing band walked off stage completely. Left all alone (and without his bass), Bona used a loop pedal to layer up vocal harmonies, magically turning himself into a one-man choir.

This must have been one of the quietest recent gigs at the Jazz Café, perhaps intentionally: the Sunday-night crowd remained in absolute silence for long periods. Despite phases of duller instrumentation verging on pop, the songwriting encompasses a broad range of genres and Richard Bona is a highly gifted performer.

Published @ Fly, 8/4/08 - click here for original.

John Scofield - Jazz Cafe, 29/3/08

2008-03-30T21:00:00.000+04:00

How to begin a review of a concert at which one's musical outlook has been picked up, shaken about, flung around haphazardly and finally set back down in a completely different state?

John Scofield has enjoyed a rich and varied career, the nature of which is aptly mirrored in his guitar playing. Material from his latest album, This is That (Emarcy, 2008), was the subject of his two-night stand at London's Jazz Cafe. The occasion was an increasingly rare instance of the venue living up to its name: jazz doesn't get much more serious than this.

Scofield's classic trio format, with stalwart sideman Bill Stewart on drums and bassist Matt Penman ably deputising for Steve Swallow (who plays on the album), was augmented by a three-piece horn section. This textural color added another wonderful dimension to the guitarist's already intricate musical language. Whether providing sharp stabs of sound on "Heck of a Job" or smoother, elegant chords on a number such as "Shoe Dog," the arrangements were perfectly fitted. This exciting orchestral resource could have been easily overused, but Scofield's playing remained at the forefront while the core trio was never crowded out. Though never intrusive, the unusual orchestration remained vivid and unpredictable at the same time.

As for the man himself, he possesses one of the most unique guitar voices in modern music. Its bendy brilliance, from twisted country to straight-up bebop and funk-drenched wah effects, represents an eclectic yet historically comprehensive journey for the active listener. The layers of altered harmony which spring up between passages of blues, bop or casual swing can sound strange and unusual but never wrong or misplaced. Think Wes Montgomery crossed with Jimi Hendrix and that's not even half of the story.

As a creative concept, Schofield's music is highly accessible for devotees of all the aforementioned genres—as the Jazz Cafe's booking manager would no doubt testify. And when Scofield steps out to centre stage, his epic facial contortions matching the howl of his electric guitar, there is something undeniably rock'n'roll about this balding 56-year-old from Ohio.

Published @ allaboutjazz.com, 9/4/08 - click here for original.

Acoustic Ladyland - Vortex, 28/3/08

2008-03-29T19:30:00.001+03:00

As the act which opened the new Vortex in 2005, Acoustic Ladyland hold a special place in the hearts of many club regulars. The band returned on March 28 to a full house of over 100 people, with the usual table layout abandoned to create an entirely different atmosphere.

It is a standing audience which pushes the quartet to perform at its highest level. Saxophonist-turned-singer Pete Wareham looked the part in a white suit jacket and black skinny tie; he has appropriated the role of enigmatic frontman with relish and zeal. Many of the songs saw him switching swiftly between instrument and voice, and he had broken sweat within ten minutes. This conception of the sax taking the lead in a frenzied, punky setting distinguishes his tone and phrasing from any of his contemporaries.

The rhythm section were exciting, often unpredictable. Tom Cawley on keys was typically percussive, at times smashing down open-handed in a seemingly random fashion or producing twisted impressions of a demented ice cream van chime. Seb Rochford and Ruth Goller (drums, bass) were as tight as could be expected from the band's recent gigging, even if the bass may have been a little quiet out front.

Over the course of three albums, the Acoustic Ladyland sound has become increasingly hard to define. Is it punk jazz? Is it progressive rock (albeit with no guitar in sight)? Is it pure avant garde experimentalism? Wareham is reluctant to bracket the music into any genre and it is easy to see why. The result is a group that can surprise and enlighten in equal measure, which will surely continue its rapid rise and develop cult status over the coming years.

Published @ allaboutjazz.com, 25/4/08 - click here for original.

Afrobeat: Tony Allen and Antibalas - Jazz Cafe

2008-03-28T19:00:00.000+03:00

Within the space of one month, London's Jazz Cafe plays host for two singular names in the Afrobeat genre: representing the old guard is Tony Allen, one of the foremost figures in the music's inception. Representing the new generation is the Antibalas Afrobeat Orchestra, a wild collection of New Yorkers with its own niche on the international circuit.

Tony Allen is living history. One of the pioneers of Afrobeat, along with the legendary Fela Kuti, he has been described by Brian Eno as "perhaps the greatest drummer who has ever lived". This towering reputation and illustrious past warranted high expectations of his group when they played a packed Jazz Café on March 27.

As I entered to a stream of pulsating beats and hypnotic basslines, it was disappointing to see only a single brass player on stage. Although he put up a valiant effort, the simulated chorus effect on Nicholas Giraud's trumpet was a long way from the heavy barrage created by a full horn section which is so vital to the genre.

The band was tight enough, driven forward by Allen's ever-changing rhythmic variations assimilating jazz, funk, African highlife and other traditional styles. Bassist Rody Cereyon produced the evening's most memorable solo, drawing screams of respect and encouragement from the Thursday night crowd, and it was clear that all the musicians were sharing this enjoyment.

However, there was something else missing from the performance. Many of the songs began strongly but proceeded to lower in tempo, lacking the verve and bite of Fela's recordings. The in-your-face bullishness and rebellious attitude which defined early Afrobeat was scarcely detectable. Perhaps Mr Allen has calmed with age – he is nearly 70 – but I can't help thinking a larger band would have greatly benefited the cause.

The value of numbers will surely be proven when New York's 12-man Antibalas Afrobeat Orchestra invade the same venue in April. Fresh from the recent release of Security, the group has firmly established itself as a leader of the genre by touring extensively in North America and Europe.

In the same way Tony Allen incorporates other music into his unique drumming voice, the Antibalas sound consists of many diverse elements beyond its African core. It is a potent reflection of the cultural melting pot that is New York City: funk, folk, jazz, Latin and soul are all detectable, spearheaded by a five-piece horn section and several polyrhythmic percussionists. Lyrics often display a defiant streak in the fine tradition of Afrobeat itself.

If Antibalas can maintain current momentum, the Brooklyn-based collective will surely continue to draw massive crowds and rave reviews alike. The next few years are going to be crucial in the development of what may well become a seminal force in world music.

Another name currently in the vanguard of new Afrobeat is The Budos Band. Hailing from the slightly more genteel surroundings of Staten Island, NY, this 11-piece unit has released two albums on Daptone Records. The Budos will be supporting Antibalas to complete a mouthwatering double bill on April 19 at the Jazz Cafe.

Published @ Fly, 15/4/08 - click here for original.

The Blessing: All Is Yes

2008-02-28T14:30:00.001+03:00

One of the most sideways-thinking groups on the vibrant UK jazz scene, The Blessing are rapidly expanding outwards from their Bristol home. Signed on a three-album deal to Candid Records, the band has just completed a successful nationwide tour to promote the first in the series, All Is Yes.

The title fits. It's evident that a cornucopia of musical influences permeates the quartet's mentality: collective sideman credits include names as diverse as Robert Plant, Roni Size, Portishead, the Super Furry Animals and countless jazz-related projects. Moods vary from the pleasantly atmospheric, Eastern-tinged grooves of "Loubia" to intense, driving, punky riffs in tunes such as "Bleach Cake" and "Thermos."

The latter track is one of the gems of the record, an ideal snapshot of its unpredictable and compelling nature. Clever saxophone and trumpet interplay (Jake McMurchie and Pete Judge, respectively) is framed flawlessly by Clive Deamer's ever-changing rhythms--including a hint of watered-down drum n' bass--and Jim Barr's catchy bass hook. "Cake Hole" displays rock sensibilities in the vein of fellow UK band Acoustic Ladyland, with shifts in tempo and temperament and a horn line that sways from punchy to peaceful. McMurchie's tenor sax produces an impassioned cry for attention on this track and throughout the disc; after all, The Blessing began life as an Ornette Coleman free jazz tribute, elements of which are plainly detectable.

"That Ain't It" features a freshly chaotic guitar cameo from Portishead's Adrian Utley, a long-time Blessing associate. His crunchy concoction of distorted screams, electronic fuzz and overdriven static provoke Judge and McMurchie into an improvisational frenzy as the track climaxes, but there is a reclusive sense of brilliant control and compositional rigidity at the same time. The group shares "a pathological distrust of chords," making Utley the perfect foil in this overflowing cauldron of experimental creativity.

All Is Yes looks like the tip of a new iceberg; this colorful compendium of unclassifiable, post-jazz fusion must be an early contender in album-of-the-year nominations. Individual virtuosity, combined with a wonderful communal understanding and spirit of exploration, gives The Blessing a unique position in any musical landscape. It is surely only a matter of time before the phenomenon goes global.

Published @ allaboutjazz, 28/2/08 - click here for original.

Three Gigs, Two Cities, 48 Hours

2007-11-30T20:00:00.001+03:00

An epic musical journey from downtown Bristol to fashionable Shoreditch via London’s South Bank, this could definitely be regarded as a full weekend.

Saturday November 24 saw three of Bristol’s finest live acts and numerous DJs swarm to The Attic in Stokes Croft, a new underground venue starting to attract a lot of talent. A tight set from the scorching Latin funk outfit Los Mercenarios opened proceedings. Saxophonists Craig Crofton and James Morton both caught the ear during impressive solos, with Morton in particular justifying his soaring reputation. A couple of the best tunes were a crisp rendition of The Meters’ classic ’Cissy Strut’ and a thoroughly danceable interpretation of the jazz standard ’A Night In Tunisia’.

Next on stage was Crofton’s CCQ, a seven-piece electronically-driven ensemble fusing breakbeat, funk, drum&bass, hip-hop and more into a maniacally simmering cauldron of raw musical creativity. With a drummer playing along to pre-recorded loops and a lot of tinkering effects, it was sometimes uncertain who was doing what. However, MC Derrick Hines was clear in his delivery of potent, thoughtful lyrics and the sax players threw well-placed punctuations into the group’s multi-dimensional sound. A debut album is on the way in 2008, but any CD will surely struggle to capture the sheer eclectic force of CCQ live performances.

The final group was Dr Meaker, a nine-person drum&bass band currently sending deep waves through the Bristol music scene. The Attic’s monolithic sound system was pushed to its limits as heavy sheets of bass pumped out, interspersed with sharp horn section parts and haunting vocal lines. Definitely less variety than the other two groups, but by that stage the ravers had assumed control of the venue and its atmosphere was pulsating as intensely as the bone-rattling bass vibrations.

As the final day of the London Jazz Festival, Sunday 25 November was always going to have something special on the cards. The Queen Elizabeth Hall’s showpiece event was a performance of the complete works of Thelonious Monk led by saxophonist Tony Kofi and pianist Jonathan Gee. The Monk project has been a labour of love for these two protagonists, who were joined by a fine selection of co-conspirators including Quentin Collins (trumpet), Corey Mwamba (vibraphone) and Winston Clifford (drums).

Constantly differing combinations of players interchanged on and off stage, with greatly varying track times. The three-session, 11-set performance had been rigidly planned – with 70 compositions to get through there was no other way. The first sitting featured well-known numbers such as ’Off Minor’, ’Epistrophy’ and ’Bemsha Swing’ and a few of Monk’s more obscure creations including ’Light Blue’, ’Let’s Cool One’ and ’Brake’s Sake’. The audience may have known what was going to be played, but regular rotations within the band kept the sound fresh and the people guessing.

It was then off to east London to witness a one-off concert at Cargo. Drummer Dylan Howe and his group The Subterraneans were performing a 90-minute adaptation of the music of Brian Eno and David Bowie, ambiently re-imagining the classic albums Low and Heroes. A formidable lineup included Portishead electronics wizard Adrian Utley on guitar, free-flowing Israeli saxophonist Gilad Atzmon and Stranglers vocalist Hugh Cornwell, with The Solid Strings in a supporting role.

Easy as it is to draw attention to individual members of this diverse "mini-orchestra", emphasis must be placed on its immaculate, entrancing collective performance. Tactful arrangements of tracks such as ’Warsawa’, which featured an eerie buildup of strings and guitar effects before gradually taking off into a harmonised horn section chorus, were the order of the evening. ’V2 Schneider’ began with a simple yet grooving bassline, the horns then coming in with imitations of falling bomb sounds. Howe’s trademark powerful yet delicate drumming was the motor propelling this finely-tuned engine. Every piece told its own story, with Sir Peter Blake’s background visuals presenting apt linkage to the Berlin Trilogy – the series of Bowie/Eno collaborative albums from which this project drew its inspiration.

Two days, three venues, eight hours of music, at least six different groups comprising over 40 musicians performing more than 50 separate compositions in a multitude of genres. This will not be easily forgotten.

Published at jazzwise.com - click here for original.

Tord Gustavsen Trio / Stefano Bollani & Enrico Rava

2007-11-27T22:00:00.000+03:00

London Jazz Festival, Wednesday 21/11/07

In an evening designed to showcase the celebrated European record label ECM, listeners at the Barbican Centre were treated to a pair of highly differing acoustic performances.

The Italian duo of maverick young pianist Stefano Bollani and veteran trumpeter Enrico Rava played with a zestful understanding that openly defied their age difference of more than 30 years. Long solo passages from both men were sandwiched between frequent periods of glorious interplay and, surprisingly, several warm doses of Mediterranean comedy. Bollani's sense of humour especially shone through as he embellished his improvisation with inventive musical quotes and physical movement, such as closing the lid of the piano or gesturing to the heavens.

Tord Gustavsen and his fellow Norwegian sidemen displayed a complete contrast to this jovial mentality during their headline set, moving to the opposite extreme of the continental culture spectrum. Each musician played with a ferocious, powerful minimalism that has come to define the group's burgeoning reputation. Drummer Jarle Vespestad showed the audience original ways of cymbal manipulation to generate minutely subtle shifts in mood, barely touching the drums themselves. His single solo could be likened to the performance of a master illusionist, using sleight of hand expertise to conjure epic visions into the minds of listeners.

The stoic figure of Harald Johnsen on double bass represented a ghostly presence on stage, taking the less is more approach to its ultimate echelon. Gustavsen on piano caressed the keys with a simple yet passionately virtuosic touch, animatedly swaying back and forth during solos and coaxing the group along with fragile, enticing melodies. The performance's sole drawback was a tendency for the music to start sounding vaguely monotonous at times; undivided attention is absolutely required to appreciate the introspective magic of this captivating trio.

How very ECM of them.

Published at jazzwise.com, 27/11/07 - click here for original.