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20 May 2008 - 18:27hrs

The Final Terror and the horror of the third stream

The recent 'The Final Terror' gig at the Cheltenham Jazz Festival has been stuck in my brain for some weeks now. A major portion of the gig was given over to a reinterpretation of the first movement of Olivier Messiaen's Turangalila – and it was a mighty powerful rendition.

I've always been a bit uncomfortable when it comes to Jazz interpretations of the classical repertoire. Particularly that idea of the 'third stream' embodied by Gunther Schuller and chums, the output of which I I have on a reissue CD called 'The Birth of the Third Stream'. For me it tries too hard to demonstrate its efficacy, the validity of its premise, containing at its heart a misconception, a kind of erroneous declaration something like, “Look everyone! Jazz can be just as good as 'proper' music is.”

Using the language of one music – the formal classical tradition - to describe the language of another – the aural folk tradition of Jazz – and vice versa, the composed output of Schuller, John Lewis, Jimmy Giuffre et al on 'The Birth of the Third Stream' though technically efficient, fails on all counts. That music is neither good Jazz or good classical music, or even a good compromise between the two. The same has always gone for the 'crossover' output of the MJQ too. And let's not mention Jacques Loussier's obliteration of the beauty of Bach boiled down into a glutinous and lumpy swing!! If you want to find the rigour and discipline of the classical approach applied to the Jazz tradion then look no further than the compositions of Duke Ellington!

I held this opinion as pretty much a fixed given until I came across Uri Caine's interpretation of Mahler on the Urlicht/Primal Light CD some years ago. Caine seems to be able to draw out the essence of the structure, the melodies, harmonies, and the emotions of Mahler's symphonic works and treat them as pure source material his musicians to do their thing on. And his version of Bach's Goldberg Variations is even better I think, capturing the enormous scope of the 32 pieces, not to mention kicking Jacques Loussier's renditions of Bach right up the arse! His subsequent classical/jazz crossovers have however been a bit patchy.

Pete Wareham's stab at Messiaen's Turangalîla Symphony was definitely in the spirit of Caine and not Schuller. What struck me was just the sheer nerve of taking it on, not only because it is such a serious and knotty piece, but also because of the limited forces of his electric quartet.

For a piece that was first performed at the end of the 1940's it sounded fresh and contemporary and totally 'now.' Though some of The Final Terror's material could be said to be categorised as the musical equivalent of Russian Brutalist Architecture, perhaps drawing on the tradition of early Weather Report or mid-80s Pinski Zoo, the Messiaen piece had a defined and formal structure which imbued it with diversity of colour and contrasts in pace and texture and feel. It was definitely cheeky, but at it's heart sincere.

One translation of Turangalila from Sanskrit is "superhuman, overflowing, dazzling and abandoned," that is quite an apt description of The Final Terror I think. It would be fantastic to hear Mr Wareham's interpretation of the complete work with larger forces. How about that for next years festival? Write to your member of Parliament now!!

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12 May 2008 - 14:46hrs

Oooff!
POG now has a CDBaby page (link), and we have made a sale on the very first day!

This is very cheering news indeed.  When you make the kind of music we make you don't really think about who will buy the CD - it's not commercially-minded in that sort of way.  What we tried to do on 'Free Jazz For Lovers' was just make 'honest' music, the kind of stuff that reflects who we are as players and what we do collectively as an ensemble, so the fact that someone paid is most heartening. I hope that this kind of good fortune will continue, if so, in only another 933 days we'll begin to go into profit !!

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10 May 2008 - 11:19hrs

We've decided to join the rest of the bands on the planet and set up a page on MySpace, and if you pop over to www.myspace.com/pogjazz you can hear a complete version of the first track on the album absolutely free! Gosh! We're giving it away! So, it's only when you set up the page the you realise how many bands either have your name already, or something so similar that you could easily be confused (And Gaia knows, I'm easily confused!). And we thought we were being original! Perhaps if we had known this before the CD was pressed we might have called ourselves GOP, or GPO, or TRIPOG (hey, that's a good name for album) or something. Still, there's some interesting stuff out there in the netosphere that shares or has a similar arrangement of written symbols or characters used in the graphemic representation of the word which is the formal appellation representing their unique status. For example, and in no particular order;

Anyway, we've invited them all to become the 'friends of POG,' which sounds like some sort of sinister secret society - and perhaps it is....

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05 May 2008 - 19:22hrs

During his introduction to Jack DeJohnette's drum masterclass at ten o'clock this morning Tony Dudley-Evans asked how many drummers were in the packed main room at the Town Hall. After a show of hands reminiscent of a 70s union meeting he decided that at least half the audience played the drums - it was disconcerting to realise that I was so rounded by so many weirdos! Rapturous applause welcomed Mr DeJohnette to the drum riser, and he shyly made a comment to the effect that it was a bit early for Jazz (well they say that most Jazzers don't even realise there are two ten o'clocks in the same day). He gave a brief run-down of his instrumental setup for the dribblingly obsessed, but the damp and blurry morning was soon blown away by the groovy wind of energy and joy that is Mr DeJohnette playing. The cymbals on top of his cymbals were in fact part of a set of heavy singing bowls that he has helped developed, and when he struck them they produced a sonorous raft of complimentary frequencies rising up to the rafters - pure sound. In a seamless set of improvisations he pretty much covered every aspect of what the drumset is capable of. Many of the drummers in the room must have wet themselves. His Q&A after was quite interesting too (It would have been great to have a Q&A after the Bill Frisell gig). I've never gone to a drum master class before because I have a social life and don't live with my mother, but although a lot of the questions were from people who wanted to know how they could be as good as him, many of them weren't, and all of his answers were thoughtful, and detailed, and, well, just very illuminating. Particularly fascinating was his response when somebody put to him that he has been an influence on so many players - not just drummers either - but who did he consider an influence on his playing. He spoke on this subject for 20 minutes or so, drawing on his personal experiences with countless Jazz giants over the years, with a little remark, remembrance or comment about each musician he mentioned. I was interested to find out that one of my favourite players ever, Eddie Harris, was the person who planted the idea that he should give up trying to make it as a pianist and a drummer and just do what he was better at; it was only sometime later that Mr DeJohnette understood that Mr Harris had been right. Some of the questioners were obviously very nervous, not usually used to being in a room full of people and away from their collections of drum magazine, drum DVDs and other support materials, and so at one point Mr DeJohnette left the riser and came down amongst the audience to stand about two feet away from me! Yes I was the closest person to him in the whole room, I could feel the heat of 200 jealous eyes on the back of my neck, he was right there, looking at me, answering questions, the man who has played with Miles, and Keith Jarrett, and like everybody (and who made an LP called Album Album which was the beginning of my platonic love for David Murray), and I couldn't think of a single question other than, "What sticks do you use?" so I kept my mouth shut. I must have been intoxicated by the heavy musk of all those drummers in the room or something. If only I had said something, what a prat eh? Our drumist Oli Sonntag will be most disappointed I didn't asking about the influence of Big Sid Catlett on modern-day rock drummers! When the whole thing was over I stayed in my seat to watch the subset of the audience that flocked around his kit, taking pictures on their mobile phones and camcorders and talking about what hardware he had and the angular displacement of his stand toms in relation to the position of his hi-hat pedal - but you have to remember that not all drummers are like that though, just most of them.

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I left the room and bullshitted with the guys at the CD table in the foyer for a while (I finally went for the Bobby Previte New Bump CD 'Set the Alarm for Monday') and that was the end of my festival. There was stuff going on, but I'd run out of money - isn't that always the way eh? Tony Dudley-Evans deserves a great big pat on the back, and a nomination for a knighthood at the least, for artistically directing such a varied program, and maintaining the very high standards set in previous years. Time to start saving up for next years festival and perhaps even an unkown band like POG might get a little gig there next year....? ....Nah....

 

 

05 May 2008 - 14:39hrs

There was a real buzz at the Everyman Theatre before Bill Frisell's gig, and the full strata of festival goers was visible; from the pony-tailed 50-something single man, to the respectably dressed gaggles of corporate invitee, to the enthusiastic and aspiring Jazzer, to the cardiganed grey-haired couple spending their children's inheritance, and a smattering of juniors too; which is always nice to see - start 'em young, start 'em young. The fact that Mr Frisell can draw on the support of, and satisfy the leanings of, such a huge range of committed and casual fanery is a testament to the sheer width of his musical scope and appeal. And I think it is safe to say, in the cold light of day, that nobody leaving the theatre last night was disappointed, clapping our hands off as we did, to secure that Cheltenham Festival rarity - a encore! Mr Frisell holds between his ten fingers the whole history of the electric guitar and has surrounded himself with musicians who are more than willing, and capable to join him on his individual musical journey through time and space. But although he drew on material from such diverse areas as the work of Sam Cooke and Lennie Tristano, mixed with Ry Cooder-ish lonely-blues infused country, and Laurel Canyon tyoe 60s pop, he never slipped into pastiche. At his best he always integrates his sources with his own distinctive personal outlook to create that singular style. His prowess as a soloist is undeniable. He has abandoned for the most part the traditional single line approach to improvising by interweaving lines, chords and phrases simultaneously. He juggled with this last night and never sounded like he was ever going to drop a club. I really enjoyed the contribution of drummer Rudy Royston who has an loose and relaxed style in appearance that belies a vigorous dynamic approach to his role. In cohort with Larry Grenadier the band was driven along remorselessly, with commenting interjections & break downs and build ups of energy that had us bobbing up and down in our seats. If this hadn't been such a formal, eyes-front venue I'm sure half the audience would have spontaneously got up and danced! The tenor playing of Chris Cheek was a real treat; a tough underbite of a sound, and thoughtful and quirky too, perfectly matched by the excellent cornet-ifications of Ron Miles, a player whose musical interests, like Mr Frisells, look well beyond the traditional Jazz canon (checked out his Blossom/Stone double-CD). And of course Mr Frisell was in high spirits obviously enjoying playtime with his happy band of brothers. My companion and I couldn't believe that an hour and a half had flown by so quickly...

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04 May 2008 - 23:10hrs

Mr Jack DeJohnette's drum kit looked like a space station. Many big, red and shiny drums surrounded by six cymbal stands with two cymbals on each. You sometimes think of the drums as just one instrument but it isn't really, it's a collection of instrument that have to be balanced and considered for their textural and tonal possibilities individually as well as collectively. This is the drummers dilemma I think, trying to decide on a finite set of components in a drumset, let alone how to set about play them. Mr DeJohnette's drumset was full of potential just sat there on the stage all by itself, but there was an open grand piano too, and the piano is a percussion instrument as well. So when festival director Tony Dudley-Evans came out to announce the man I was in a state that doctors refer to as 'well up for it!' The first thing I noticed, even before he had picked up his sticks, was just how fit the he looked. I've only ever seen him sitting down at the kit in photos or on DVD before, but in the flesh, in his tight grey t-shirt, and with his confident walk to the kit, he looked like the kind of man who could snap you in half. And yet, for all this projected power, he began in the most delicate way by exploring the harmonics of his cymbals with a soft mallet in one hand and a microphone in the other. He created a soothing, ethereal, almost meditative texture that even stilled the crying baby at the back of the stalls. Later he did demonstrate his power by creating what he called a fantasia on the Motown beat, but even this was never without a certain subtle sensitivity - for all the 'flats-in-Daganam' (its a drummer's thing!). And then, as if by magic, and a definite surprise, the solo concert became a duo with the unexpected arrival of Ravi Coltrane on stage. The two of them jammed away freely feeding off each other in a triptych of improvisations that had Mr DeJohnette sliding over to the piano and then back to the drums. At one point I had the impression of two kestrels circling each other to display their elegant plumage, but then I realised that if Mr Coltrane was a kestrel then Mr DeJohnette was a probably a condor. I think both players enjoyed the experience; well they went on past the allotted time, which is unusual for Cheltenham, but nobody in the audience seemed to mind. It did mean that those of us who had tickets for Bobby Previte had to enact the Jazz fans version of a steeplechase as we power walked down to the town hall to get there before the Bobby Previte & New Bump gig started.

After fighting for my place at the urinals I made it into the Pillar Room with only moments to spare. Unfortunately the only seats I spotted before the house lights went out offered an almost totally obstructed view of the stage. I took a seat to the side but when the band came on all I could see was the back of the vibeist and sax players left elbow; so I got up and made my way clumsily to the back of the room to stand, where it turned out that not only did I get a great view of the stage but I was also right next to the bar - oh dear, what a shame! (I'm sorry to go on about the Pillar room again but it is a very frustrating place to see a gig, even if it is a good place to hear one.) Mr Previte's New Bump was an absolute joy and my first chance to see a long time favourite of mine, sax player Ellery Eskelin. Again I was surprised by the difference between my imagination and reality - having only heard him on recording before I'd always visualise Mr Eskelin as a huge, tanned and muscular man, quite a contrast to the perfectly formed shaven-headed black-clad slim guy who honked it out and held his own against the booming octavised bass of Mr Brad Jones and Mr Previte's thunderous drums. The addition to the band of Mr Bill Ware on vibes was a perfect counterfoil to the others, providing a shimmering contrast in texture as they explored material from New Bump's most recent 'Set the Alarm for Monday' recording. This band and its material is filled with cheekiness and joy and spontaneity, communicated in part by the huge grin on the band leaders face. I even managed to pluck up the courage to thank Mr Eskelin for all the free lessons his recording have given me, and of course to foist a 'Free Jazz For Lovers' CD on him and Mr Previte too - well, you never know do you?

Leaving the Town Hall feeling artistically satiated I wandered up to the Everyman Theatre in search of more practical sustenance, and to mix and mingle. I was disappointed on both counts. Not only was the Everyman like a morgue, but the Risotto, when it finally did arrive, was nowt but a cool starchy mess swimming in butter. But by then it was too late to either eat it or complain so feeling like I'd just slipped a tenner down the drain I left to see Pete Wareham's latest project back at the Pillar; and besides, this isn't a restaurant review!

I got in just as the band struck up, so alas, I had to stand at the bar again - oh well, never mind. I'm quite familiar with Mr Wareham's output from the Acoustic Ladyland albums, the excellent Polar Bear, and Seb Rochford's Fulborn Teversham (which was a big hit with me at last years festival). He comes across as such and polite, engaging, humorous, well-spoken, credit-to-his-parents kind of chap - yet he is often found amidst some of the most noisily aggressive and dangerously expressive musical settings on the contemporary UK Jazz scene - perhaps he was separated from the breast too early? If you're familiar with the Scandinavian musical franchise know as Black Metal and the mid 80's output of Pinski Zoo, then imagine their legitimate love child and that is pretty much The Final Terror. Still, this isn't music without form or thought, a fact demonstrated by a lengthy arrangement of the first movement of French composer Olivier Messiaen 's Turangalila. Striping down a symphonic work by one of music most unique voices, and reinterpreting it for drums, bass, electric guitar, saxes and keyboards is no mean feat, not to mention rather brave - and it was the highlight of their set. However, a sickening incident occurred in the middle of the piece when Mr Wareham, who was obviously, and obliviously, taken with the spirit as he brutalised his baritone, knocked his heavy looking keyboard off its stand and onto his lovely tenor sax. Only after the piece was over did he and the audience realise the instrument had suffered a traumatic denting which was stopping him from parping out the lower register. But undeterred the band finished their set like the consummate professionals they are. I got a look at his horn on the way out and being a sax player myself I can assure that looking at a dent in your bell is like looking at a broken leg - nauseating. I hung about after to offer my condolences but I think Mr Wareham was back stage sobbing so I just popped a POG CD on his keyboard to cheer him up a bit and went to get some air.

That's all I can manage for now, so I'll post my reaction to the Bill Frisell gig tomorrow, now I need to rest, to sleep, perchance to dream....

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04 May 2008 - 09:11hrs

While I was in the shower this morning I realised that I was humming 'I vow to thee my country!' And I thought, did I really say I'd had 'one of the most intense musical experiences of my life.' Ha! Was that the beer talking? I don't think it was just the beer talking... Is that Tim Berne gig foing to be broadcast on BBC RADIO 3? I do hope so. *Anyhow, it also occurred to me that the number of walk-outs are just as likely to be a down to the overlapping start-times of part of the festival program as it was audience discombobulation. Today I will be mostly listening to; Jack DeJohnette, Bobby Previte's New Bump, Pete Wareham: The Final Terror and topping-off with Bill Frisell. But first I must get me to a hot breakfast....

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03 May 2008 - 23:56hrs