Review: Ken Vandermark/Paal Nielssen Love plus John Edwards at the Cafe Oto, Friday, April 23d, 2010...

Back to the Cafe Oto again... and a good seat up close and personal – although with drummer Paal Nilssen Love nearer to me, some of Ken Vandermark's playing was a little muffled at times. According to his Twitter feed, 'Easyjet damages the baritone, can't play it' so he stuck to tenor and clarinet tonight. First set was as a duo and hurtled straight off into the fray, Vandermark using melodic fragments as his base, firing the permutations around at speed, gunslinging tenor sax, as the drummer cracked along mightily, in the main using hi-hat, snare and floor tom for the engine room. But for all his heavy hitting- even when he repeatedly favoured brushes, he got as much bite as swoosh - Paal Nilssen Love has an impressive grasp of dynamics, knowing when to drop back, using his high-hat, cowbell and cymbals for colouration or adding small cymbals, woodblocks, tambourine laid on the drum skins. Vandermark is a gutsy tenor saxophonist with a mastery of the ranges from deep down honk up to high squeal pushed through fast linearities, yet he will also hover over a phrase, chew it up and extract as much groove juice as possible, riding the riffs. Traces maybe of the the Chicago heritage he became a major part of, blues and then some, Southside to experimental and back. Given Paal Nielssen Love's similar propensity to slip from implied pulses back to almost Blakey-like hihat bebop ker-chings and at one point a lolloping 6/8, they provide plenty of common reference pointers back into the tradition. 'Free jazz' has come a long way in that respect, working now with such an expanded vocabulary, that a dash of 'swing' is quite refreshing. Vandermark is also a composer of note which gives his performance an architectural wholeness, form rising from improvised content but a flexible form perhaps shadowly implicit. This is music that communicates – without dumbing down. Eventually he switched to clarinet and was equally impressive, using circular breathing at times, judging by his facial movements, oddly avoiding the chalameau register in the main in favour of higher declarations. The clarinet seems to be edging back into favour these last few years. This higher register worked well over the swirl of the drums but it wasn't all squall and blatter – throughout the first set they edged into quieter episodes where melodic interrogation went sideways into colour and sonic texture. Vandemark ended their first set with a clarinet feature – maybe this was one of his compositions rather than a totally free improvisation? The melody seemed naggingly familiar, with a dash of Monk influence to my ears... Ending quietly, coming to rest...

Grab a bit of the duo flavour (with Vandermark on baritone - here...

Second set with John Edwards, bass about town, added. Vandemark had not played with him before but Edwards was at full throttle straight away, joining the tenor with his bow to arco along with the opening melodic statements and locking seamlessly in with the drums.  Edwards' ferocious attack is powered by hands that seem to have superhuman strength in order to stand up to the assault of flesh and bone on string and wood. He plays with such ferocity that he broke a string (again – that's the second time I've seen this happen in a couple of months). Less flowing tenor lines here, more concentration on group interaction – again Vandemark would lock on various riffs and exploit their repetitions with small changes. Perhaps a wise move – in this context, with the added busyness of the bass and no direct miking, longer lines would tend to get a little lost in the thickets of sound being generated. The riff taken onwards... When they slipped into the more abstract areas of granularities, breath/embouchural manipulations, hands on drums, cymbals, added small effects, Edwards' large sonic canvas scored high, his rubbings, scrapings and expansions of the conventional sound world of the bass providing mighty additions to enlarging and enriching the immediately expanding terrain. Solos all round, Love providing some roisterous drums alongside his more contemplative forays into sonorities, Edwards using bow, hands to pluck, slap and pummel, in one passage skittering near to more conventional jazz lines with accurate and fast pizzicato walking. Vandemark deployed his clarinet to good effect again, the high register sailing over the clattering middle and bottom with elegant freedom. Near the end he gave a breathy held note on tenor that seemed to be a signal to stop – but the other two continued for another couple of minutes until another long note finally brought the performance to another quiet conclusion.

Great stuff. From his Twitter again: '...burning trio with John Edwards- great.' Succinct and accurate...
So: another extremely enjoyable night down at the Oto – flying the flag for free jazz... I love this place and the continuing variety of superb musicians they have been bringing in, the intimacy where you can see/hear close up the nuances and shifts that make up a successful improvisatory snatched-in-the-moment experience. The lager is crap, though, but a small sacrifice – the art not the booze, or something... ars longa lager brevis...
Next Sunday - off to Freedom in the City - and Carla Bozulich on the monday night...

Review: Joe McPhee/Chris Corsano with John Edwards/Paul Dunmall at the Cafe Oto, Tuesday 9th March, 2010...

Wordsworth famously wrote in his introduction to 'Lyrical Ballads': 'poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility.' There was plenty of 'spontaneous overflow' flying around on Tuesday evening last at the Cafe Oto, the first leg of Joe McPhee/Chris Corsano's two night residency and the end result was: instant poetry. Joined by master bassman Jon Edwards and Paul Dunmall on tenor saxophone, a fascinating gig unfolded – one of the best of the year in a year so far full of them. Tranquility a plenty here this morning... but the recollection scenario may be a trifle more complicated. A few days back and no notes taken, only the snapshots and aural fragments remain in this ageing bundle of synapses. And I am not the poet but the inadequate carrier, the origins and immediate results were on the night. But here we go:

Opening with the headliners, drummer/percussionist Corsano and McPhee on alto saxophone, starting quietly with discreet noises, taps and rattles, breathy ghost notes, they soon started to stretch out across the territory available. Which given the majestic pedigree of Joe McPhee and the younger Corsano's awesome technique is a wide, wide open space. McPhee is a master of multisonics on his instruments and Corsano uses an expanded kit and often electronics to buttress his rhythmic muse. Their explorations moved from small gestures - some on the brink of audibility, a fascinating move in this crowded room but it worked, forcing you to concentrate - to the wilder polyrhythmic shores of Corsano unleashed, with McPhee hard-blowing over the top. McPhee's experiments with sounds and granularities were balanced by a strong melodic anchoring throughout. A modal/folkish feel at times.

They were eventually joined by John Edwards and Paul Dunmall, the bass player starting in with clicky, fast finger-picked figures high up the neck, one hand plucking and fretting as the other chased it, before he went deeper into the range and locked in with the drums. Dunmall up, for a trio at first as Mcphee dropped back, tonight playing more fully, I thought, than the other week with Matthew Shipp, in the first set unleashing torrents of long lines, a big brawling warm-hearted sound. McPhee eventually joined them, going between his alto and his pocket trumpet, this last a high-scrabbling that ran in exhilarating tandem with Dunmall. Onwards, they veered between fire music and filigree: smaller, quieter interludes – a master exercise in dynamics over this long set, finishing on a fantastic duo section between saxophone and trumpet.

Second half. Dunmall more oblique in places, short abrupt phrases tossed rhythmically about - although he unleashed plenty of longer line linearity, there was a more jagged feel, spiced with some deep blats and honks out of the classic r and b playbook. A varied set again, with the musicians splitting into trios, duos and occasional solos. McPhee hauled out his soprano to add to alto and trumpet, giving a more powerful weaving with Dunmall's tenor – the pocket trumpet struggled a little throughout due to its relatively lighter sonority. Again – what was striking was the ability the band had to move between sonic abstraction and more 'jazz' pulse orientated improvisations. Solos all round, of course – Corsano brought the house down with his and Edwards was his formidable self, McPhee and Dunmall equally assured in their expositions, the older man pushing further outwards on his instruments than the tenor saxophonist yet always returning – as did Dunmall – to primal melody. What was fascinating was the expanded space created where movement freely crossed the usual barriers – it was not 'jazz' with added sonics unsteadily grafted on or the reverse but a music in the moment that moved fluidly between these vaguely signposted areas and beyond. Several times throughout I suddenly realised that one section, say a duo between drummer and bassist which had been digging deep into expanded technical sonic gestures, bowed cymbals, frottaged bass, for example, had suddenly edged back in to the whole band rocking at full blast – with no perceived 'join' or Zornian jumpcut - rather a natural movement of mutual authority and widened vocabularies.

If a word summed up the evening, it would be 'generosity.' McPhee shared his sets equably and amicably, giving each performer plenty of opportunity to strut their considerable stuff while displaying the generous range of his own talents. A pure master. Put this all together and you have a satisfyingly/stimulatingly generous range of music – that 'spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings,' the instantaneous musical poetry of which is later commented on – here - in hazardous recollection and some 'tranquility.' The memory does not create the poetry. In this case – it was already there in the moment... Trust me on that at least...

Without generosity, there is no adventure... let Joe McPhee have the last word:

'This music...call it jazz or whatever, is a living thing, not museum music...it needs to take risks in order to adapt and survive.'
(From here... )

Joe McPhee and co...

Off to London in the morning for a couple of days - Cafe Oto tomorrow for another go round - this time, the mighty Joe McPhee in fast company: Chris Corsano, John Edwards and Paul Dunmall. It doesn't get a lot better than this... review no doubt to follow...

Review: Matthew Shipp with John Edwards/Paul Dunmall/Mark Sanders at Cafe Oto, Friday February 12th, 2010...

At least it wasn't raining... but another grey day when I arrived in London with any idea of getting down to see the Arshile Gorky exhibition given up when I got out of St Pancras.

Got to the Cafe Oto in good time – I had mentally earmarked my position on the bench by the back wall so wanted to get through the doors early enough to grab it. Mission accomplished. Another crowded night for the first leg of New Yorker Matthew Shipp's three day tenure here, tonight supported by the mighty John Edwards, Mark Sanders and one of my all-time favourite horn players, Paul Dunmall.

Shipp starts, leading off slowly down low and the band come in. Dunmall plays a repeated short motif that I'd heard while they were doing a soundcheck and it pops up throughout the sets. At first Edwards' bass was struggling in the mix due to the deep thunder of Shipp's monster chords tangling up the sonic levels between the two instruments. You could feel the bass more than hear it. Mark Sanders was ticking along lightly, occasional flurries and sudden timbral rips coming through, a drummer who plays as much with expanded sonorities as well as rhythm. The bass became clearer as the bottom levels settled down – adjustment on the p.a.? Or just the band feeling their way through, perhaps? Shipp is a two-fisted player, introducing a reiterated thumping march-like series of chords that became another anchor for this set, echoed by the bass in places. The quartet divided up into occasional duos, or Dunmall dropping out for the piano, bass and drums, sections that occasionally evoked earlier modern jazz conventions with comping left hand and right hand spinning oblique melodies. As the set progressed Sanders became louder, more assertive, probably realising that the lower register hammerings of the piano needed more rhythmic stridency to balance up. Shipp was playing tough stuff, lightened up with occasional quieter flourishes. As the bass and drums balanced up, Edwards really started to drive it along – taking a short solo at one point that demonstrated all his skills – arco crossed with up-the- neck pizzicato one hand pinches and flurries, slaps to the instrument's bodywork, a dazzling display. As ever.
Dunmall inserted small chunks of melody into the fray, spinning into more elongated lines when the spirit moved, mainly within the standard tenor range, with some throaty lower register honks and blats.
An intriguing set, this first night, it was fascinating to witness these four musicians finding their places in the available spaces – or creating fresh areas to explore. The piano, of course, adds a verticality that had to be coped with. High energy stuff, nevertheless...

Second half. Shipp inside the piano, plucking bell- like tones for bass and the drummer to respond to. A game these guys know well – answered and echoed, Sanders moving to smaller instruments – brass bowls struck with mallets and cymbal manipulations. Creating a totally different sound environment from the first set which was intelligent planning. Dunmall stood benignly to the side for a while until he joined them with a breathy single repeated note, varying the timbre to fit the mood being evoked. Almost imperceptibly they moved back into band mode and 'free jazz.' Again, passages between the piano, bass and drums that approached a conventional 'jazz' swing – nothing as blatant as bebop and beyond cymbal ker-ching ker-ching and finger snaps on the off beats but a fluid rhythmic movement. Getting towards the end, they started to roar, Dunmall finding his feet on these thorny paths with some hard blowing negotiations. Ending on storms of applause. Rightly so. An intriguing night and I wish I could have gone to the next two to see how this all developed. Shipp did not play much solo piano which was a shame, perhaps, but obviously he had decided this was a communal effort. His piano, however, dominated the ensemble, powerful sonorities rising from hammered-out chords, never afraid of grabbing a chunk of clusters and banging them out repeatedly with great ferocity or using the ominous descending march-like progression which occurred several times and this vertical density dictated to a greater extent which way the music would move. Edwards and Sanders – and Dunmall perhaps to a fractionally lesser extent – rose to the challenges offered. I'm starting to fall in love with the Cafe Oto...

En passant... Matthew Shipp is noted for the variety of his collaborations, not just inside the 'jazz' continuum but beyond... Mapsadaisical has a good review here of his Saturday night performance with J Spaceman, John Coxon and Steve Noble...

Review: Peter Brötzmann with Tony Marsh, John Edwards, Roland Ramanan at the Cafe Oto, London, Thursday 28th January, 2010...

I went to London for a couple of days last week in search of much-needed r and r. Already had a ticket for the Peter Brötzmann gig at the Cafe Oto and was looking forward to hearing him again. Arrived somewhat exhausted and had to have a rest before I went out in search of Dalston and the venue – by which time the rain was lashing down. An unpropitious start... I arrived a little too early and was reduced to huddling in a door outside the club where I met a young guy who had driven down from Manchester for the gig – a big Brötzmann fan who also truly dug Albert Ayler so we struck up a conversation, occasionally peering into the Oto where the band were having a quick run through and the staff laying out the room for the evening. By the time the doors opened there was a sizable bedraggled mob outside... Brötz remarked, rather wrily, at the end of his London Jazz Festival gig in 2008 (review here) that he didn't get invited to London very often. Looking at the horde who turned up on a foul night, hopefully this will change in the future. I managed to get in fairly quickly and grab my position for the night – a table against the wall facing the bandstand with easy access to the bar and the toilets, old hand that I am... This was my first time at the Oto and it's a good room, a blocky L shape with the bar in the L. Nothing fancy and who needs it – I had a seat, very quickly a drink to warm me up and was ready for the shindig as the place got more and more crowded.

Herr Brötzmann came out to play a solo set first off – starting on alto then moving onto what I assume was the taragato. Straight away, what struck me was the throaty power he generated up close. I've seen him in concert at the crap South Bank in a larger space (as mentioned above) but here you are never far from the bandstand. The conversation outside had generated the reminder of Milford Graves talking about Albert A, that he could blow the house down with his formidable sound and Peter Brötzmann reminded me here of his lineage. (The late Ayler's vibrato could have matched Joshua's trumpet section at the battle of Jericho in the shaking-down-the-walls scenario, one suspects). The lungpower, no doubt built up from playing tenor all these years, added to a lot of lower range playing made the alto sound more like his once-main horn at times, although he played all over its range and balanced the deeper moments with plenty of screeching through the registers to rip out some high flying squalls. Yet it wasn't all granularity – he has a melodic, quieter side that contrasts with the sturm und drang he is noted for. Fast tough-blown scrabbles were balanced by long, yearning notes, giving a folk-ish sound, a touch of Eastern Europe perhaps, opening up some different spaces. More so on the taragato which is an instrument that originated in Hungary. He also engaged in some interesting distortions on this horn, doing a curious rubbing/strangling motion across the top keys while his other hand fingered more conventionally lower down that produced some interesting sonics. Whether it is the years taking their toll – although he looks remarkably sturdy and a level of fitness is a prerequisite for playing wind instruments – or just a musical tactic, his lines are choppier than I remember, the melodies breaking quicker, statement and comment more delineated by this into shorter units.

The second set was freejazz blowout time – with a rhythm team of Tony Marsh and John on bass, what else? Edwards and his drum partner set a fierce pace, from the off, the bass thrummed, pummelled and slapped to provide a massive sound. Joined by Roland Ramanan on trumpet, Brötzmann commenced on tenor before switching his horns around, alto, taragato, clarinet. Wild and heady stuff, everyone looked as if they were enjoying themselves, the heat of the moment at one point bearing down on Edward's bass – he broke a string early in, but kept on going. A man who plays as much bass as he does, losing a string hardly counted, annoying though it must have been. Maybe Brotzman sends out a vibe – I remember the same thing happened at the Purcell Room when his electric bass player, Marino Pliakas, snapped a string! Unusual occurrence on either instrument, I would have thought... Ramanan was an exemplary partner, stabbing and probing, commenting on the sax action and unleashing occasional forays of longer lines when the spaces emerged for his solos. By and large staying within the usual range on his horn. There was a sense of good-natured rivalry, the locals taking no prisoners, but Brötzmann is still a world class player, capable of riding any storm and replying in kind - and more. Yet although the overall vibe was wild and abandoned, there were occasional moments of calm where he brought out his more lyrical side – these brief episodes pointed up all the more by the surrounding fire.

My first visit to Oto – and I left wondering why it had taken me so long... accident, really. But I enjoyed both the music and the venue, impressed by a London audience who, on a crowded, standing room only night, listened throughout with rapt attention. Who says that free jazz can't communicate? They loved it all and applauded heartily. I'm already booked in for Matthew Shipp and the Arkestra... can't wait.

William Parker... Mal Waldron/Marion Brown... Joe Albany/Warne Marsh... The Number: Keith Tippett/Gary Curson/John Edwards/Mark Sanders

With that Charles Gayle gig pending (I'm off to Liverpool tomorrow) – here's something from the mighty William Parker who will be appearing with the saxophonist (plus our own Marc Sanders). From the 2005 album, 'Sound Unity,' this is 'Wood flute song.' A booting track – Hamid Drake flashes throughout and Parker anchors down deep – to let the two horns flow. Rob Brown is becoming a favourite of mine, a fluent and exciting alto player. I don't know the trumpeter Lewis Barnes but he's damn good. Drake takes a busy solo, yet has plenty of space to explore – a clear recording, live from the Vancouver International jazz festival in 2004. There is something delightfully infectious and warming about Parker's music, as is his contribution to the myriad of bands he leads/plays in. 'This album is of the God-Head; enough said.'

Mal Waldron covered a lot of ground... here he is in a duo with Marion Brown on the old ballad 'I can't get started' run together with 'Now's the Time.' Brown leads in on solo alto – a heartfelt purity here, one of those performances where you feel as if you are listening over someone's shoulder. Then a bounce into the old riff blues, joined by Waldron in a dance across time – in several senses.

Another duo, sax and piano, from some time back. Joe Albany and Warne Marsh recorded together in 1957, an informal session at the home of recording engineer Ralf Garretson. I upped a track from this album a few months ago and mentioned Albany's daughter, Amy - who has written a fascinating book about her father. This is the Clifford Brown line 'Daahoud,' given an elegant and sprightly reading that has plenty of sinew underneath... Masterful...

Mark Sanders is the third member of the trio, with Charles Gayle and William Parker, who are imminently touring in the U.K. Here he is with The Number – Keith Tippett, Gary Curson and John Edwards. 'Collective 2' is the first,long track from their album 'The making of quiet things.' Curson blows some wide-ranging alto as the group wrap round each other - Tippett is a fiery battering pianist with a large sonic range but he leaves plenty of space here when the flow demands. Edwards is an amazing player -I've seen him several times over the last couple of years in varying situations and he is always breathtaking. Sanders displays his range throughout - I'm looking forward to seeing him up close with the two guv'nors from New York tomorrow night...


Note: there is a replay of selections from this year's Vision Festival on BBC Radio 3/Jazz on Three here... Available for a week - and a great program - cured my hangover yesterday morning...

And a brief mention of the passing of Joe Zawinul and the English writer/critic Richard Cook. Darcy has a very good post here....
Etnobofin has some further thoughts and good links here...

Richard Cook was one of our best music journalists – here's the Independent obit - as well as co-editor of the jazz recordings bible with Brian Morton - always at my side when writing this blog...

In the Videodrome...


Warne Marsh with Tristano et al New York 1964

Joe Morris in Toronto

Roy Campbell does the Fire Waltz

Keith and Julie Tippett a couple of months ago...

Fascinating video of Keith Rowe...

Mark Wastell et al at the Termite...

William Parker
William Parker (b) Rob Brown (as) Lewis Barnes (t) Hamid Drake (d)
Wood flute song
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Mal Waldron (p) Marion Brown (as)
I can't get started
Download


Buy

Joe Albany/Warne Marsh
Joe Albany (p) Warne Marsh (ts) Bob Whitlock (b)
Daahoud
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The Number
Keith Tippett (p) Gary Curson (as) John Edwards (b) Mark Sanders (d)
Collective 2
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Review: Freedom of the City, Red Rose Club, London... Nine... Weston/Rutherford/Mattos... Edwards/Parker/Fernandez/Russell... Monday 7 May 2007

The Red Rose in Finsbury Park, London is a comedy club, tonight (and over the previous weekend) dedicated to the Freedom of the City Festival, organised by Evan Parker, Eddie Prévost and Martin Davidson. Through the bar area and into the performance space which is a large square-ish room with a broad stage – must require some interesting stage-craft from single stand-ups. With a cluster of musicians on it who would eventually coalesce into the first band of the night: Nine! Consisting of twelve musicians(?), they played a fascinating set. With all those bodies, one could imagine much sonic clutter arising, but this was avoided in a performance that built from (necessary?) small gestures and nuances into the larger whole. The instrumentation: guitars, harmonica, piano, saxophones, clarinet, flute, violin, various percussion and what appeared to be a banjo-uke or some similar instrument. Subverted by externalising in the main – the traditional internal perfomance properties of the instruments being ignored apart from a few isolated examples of almost straight playing (a strummed chord, a blown note held) – a foregrounding of scratches, scrapes, bangs and bowing of surfaces... Several examples: a small object being rattled inside the bell of a clarinet, a saxophone dismantled and various noises created by using the mouthpiece/reed. Or Prévost bowing a large gong (?), the pianist rummaging inside the piano, investigating the sound properties of its plucked and struck metal entrails. The piece started with electric guitar lightly amplified and playing a repeated figure – but this beginning in tonality soon dissipated ... the discrete sounds coming from across the ensemble formed a surprisingly clear and broad sonic field. An exercise in group playing and tight control – any excess or sudden lurch into conventional soling would have destroyed the delicate balance maintained throughout. A space wide enough to encompass a couple of incongruities – I felt that the acoustic guitar player didn't always fit into the ongoing sound stream – and this was a problem for both, acoustic and electric, that the sounds/sonorities of the other instruments blended more efficiently. Acoustic and conventional electric guitar have little sustain or sonority and fast decay, the electric having a slight edge but - for no doubt deliberate reasons – no attempt was made to produce the longer/louder sustain which an amplifier and pedal setup is capable of. The ear of the beholder– why should someone blowing into the end of a flute have more sonic validity? But overall, only a small criticism. The performance finished back on the electric guitar, which acted as a tonal reference point linking back to the beginning. Thoughtful... radical... beautiful...

Apparently the second group had never played collectively before – Veryan Weston on piano, Paul Rutherford on trombone and Marcia Mattos on cello. The spatial question taken into a different area – a full broad sound that contracted and expanded where necessary, busier than the more spartan Nine! Here, the technical similarities of the trombone and cello, relying on a different kind of sound production in that they have no set points as such - frets, keys - to produce notes apart from the (admittedly strong) weight of tonal convention which can easily be evaded/disrupted by small microtonal shifts and also have an immediacy of response – direct contact with the note production via the fingers - were lined up against the piano. Which has a precise keyboard in front of the performer, notes being produced by a slight time deferment – the key sets up a mechanical process that ends in a hammer striking the strings. Apart from varying one's keyboard velocities and/or using the pedals, to radically disrupt or change the note(s) – to approach the glissando possibilities of the other instruments named, for example – one has to go inside to attack the strings directly. Weston eschews this approach tonight. Theoretically, then, trombone and cello already have the timbral possibilities of blending more easily – for the pianist a way in has to be found. (And Rutherford and Mattos have recorded together in the past so would perhaps be more aware of each other's playing). It seemed to me that Weston was a bit tentative at first, whereas Rutherford and Mattos were straight there in the zone, producing a roaring, scrabbling continuum from the start. After the sonic abstractions of the first set, this was much more visceral music – melody more to the fore – albeit jolted, dragged in and out of shape, skewed by extended techniques and timbres. Rutherford is a veteran of the scene, one of the stone originals who broke out of jazz in the 60's to develop the new improvisational sound worlds. On the basis of his superb playing tonight, a force still to be reckoned with. Mattos, another veteran, was equally stunning... I gather that he studied guitar when he was younger and it comes through in his approach to the cello, strumming chords and violent pizzicato work, along with the usual battery of extended techniques and his forceful bowing. The long piece ebbed and flowed, splitting into varying instrumental combinations that kept the music fresh – especially, one saw the compatibility of cello and trombone when they came together. Fascinating among this wonderful display of imagination and musicianship to trace the trajectory of Weston's developing involvement with the performance as he mapped his path through. A vigorous, emotional performance that also had some of the intimacies of chamber music (in both the jazz and classical senses).

The final set of the night by John Edwards, Evan Parker, Agustí Fernandez and John Russell cranked it up further. Parker stayed on tenor throughout, sitting down as if to emphasize that this was supposed to be a group performance. In spite of the collective ethic, however, the piano player stole the show, run a close second by the imperiously brilliant bass-playing of Edmunds. Parker – embedded back in the mix, his as always superb tenor fluttering and chittering in and out of the more dominant maelstrom provided by the other two. Always the unhurriedness of the master... looking quite benign and bucolic with red-face(caught the sun?) and hairy/bearded appearance. Russell seemed unable to compete on the same dynamic level at times, his guitar again pointing out one of the problems the instrument has in this music – how to balance the essentially dry, astringent sounds of his archtop guitar that decay rapidly against essentially richer timbres. I would have thought that the only way to compete on an equal footing would be to amplify more – but it's a fine balance to strike, admittedly. He also broke a couple of strings which must have unsettled his train of musical thought. What I did hear was interesting, dropping some sharp and brittle colourations across the top of the sound and engaging in a brief skittering duet section with Parker. But the tall, physically imposing, red-shirted Fernandez held the attention, in perpetual motion, bouncing on his seat, hitting the piano with sledgehammer blows from his hands with a violence that at times looked as if it would shake the instrument off the stage – yet balancing that force with a fluttering, feather-like touch at one point that was just on the threshold of audibility. And some humour: smiling, looking as if he was enjoying himself immensely... Edwards, as mentioned above, delivered a master class in contemporary bass playing, fingers of iron ripping out chunks of sound from the strings in all positions, or rubbing and scraping the surface of his instrument – a seamless blending of conventional and 'extended' techniques. The second time I have seen him this year – powerful stuff. Verdict: despite the imbalances, a bravura performance.

Overall – a wonderful display of the variety extant in the musics by three very different line-ups, unified by questing minds, imaginations and the underpinning of dedication to improvised performance. I had arrived feeling out of sorts – I left feeling uplifted. Despite all the privations, sacrifices and financial problems alluded to by Evan Parker in his closing speech, which we are only too aware of in the U.K., a fitting end to what was apparently a great festival... Just wish I had been able to attend for a longer period. Ah well – next year...