Charles Gayle is one of my favourite sax players so it was a deep pleasure to get back down to the Cafe Oto and see him again, this time with a trio comprising Christopher Dean Sullivan and Michael T.A. Thompson. An expectant buzz as the time progressed towards 9 pm – the Oto by now jammed to the doors. Luckily I had managed to get a seat, front right positioning, so, with a pint of their dubious lager on the table, was ready to go. Charles Gayle joined the others, looking pretty much the same as the last time I saw him a couple of years back, black jacket and black trousers, an intense look on his face as he started playing. Using the tenor saxophone this time round, instead of the plastic alto he was sporting on previous occasions. One thinks of him as a tenor player, because that's what he is known for on his recordings, but Gayle stated in an interview (
here...) that when he was busking on the streets of New York for many years, he preferred the lighter horn, using the tenor more for gigs. It seems to reflect in his playing as well – for such a tough and wild player, he has a fairly light tone and his exemplary technique means that even when he goes up into the extreme registers of his instrument, his articulation does not drop. In the first set, he played mainly within the middle to high areas, on average, later in the night going down deeper more frequently. Possibly this is also clever pacing: Gayle, while lean and fit, is not a young man and the tenor is a demanding instrument.
He started with a simple sparse melodic line floated over busy drums – the bass somewhat obscured from where I was sitting, unfortunately. A slightly desultory beginning, as if feeling their collective way. But they locked together eventually and produced free jazz of the highest order. Gayle fired off rapid strings of notes and played with his usual fervour but there is a more melodic edge to his music that has developed over the last few years, in evidence tonight and underscored, perhaps, by the occasional drops into beboppy time, when the drummer would swing in to two and four on the hihat. Interestingly, Thompson played these small segments of more conventional rhythm and then each time disrupted – or rather, expanded them rapidly. As if briefly lifting a veil to reveal the body beneath. Time travel, what? With Gayle's occasional use of plaintive folky melody, the continuations of the tradition were very evident here. Christopher Dean Sullivan had a couple of spots where his bass came to the fore – evidencing a very crisp player, clean articulations and plenty of technique – his first solo culminated on some rising chordal figures. The drums overbalanced the sound slightly, because apart from a small bass amp, they were not using amplification, and occasionally Gayle was struggling to get over the pounding rhythms. Yet this gave it more of a live feel, back to basics almost. And he is obviously the director of the flow – controlling with occasional abrupt barked comments or with a glance, moving from front of stage back to stand next to the drummer sometimes, as if to hear better or to prompt when needed.
Nearer the end of the first set, Gayle switched to piano which gave the bass more of a chance to come through because of its position further away rather than any drop in volume – there were points where he hammered the hell out of the keyboard, in between scampering runs and sudden placed single notes or clusters that hung in the air as he cocked an ear to consider their sonorities. This concern with sound made me think of Thelonious Monk and you could tease out the similarities, also perhaps a glance or two at Cecil Taylor in the ferocity of the powerhouse keyboard rhythmic bangings. Yet Gayle has his own style, when you are familiar with his piano playing, as free as his saxophone playing yet just as rooted in the past. Simple hymn-like tunes offset the denser chromaticism and it all felt just – right.
The second set began with busier tenor lines and the trio proceeded to grip the night in the assured hold of their collective skills and experience. Let us say: they rocked the place, whether by tenderness, occasional sly wit or the complex dazzle as lines were interrogated and dissected at the speed of fleet, fiery imagination and bravado, one section hauling back to folk-like melody and broader vibrato to evoke the ghost of Albert Ayler and bring a lot of smiles of delight and recognition up and down the rows near me that I could see. Maybe he was playing an actual Ayler tune? My knowledge of them blurs somewhat these days apart from the more famous – note to self: time to get the Revenant set out again perhaps and return to one of the great sources. He disappeared for a while to let bass and drums take over then returned to the piano sporting a rather dashing hat which gave a nod to Monk, perhaps, doubled with what sounded at one point like 'Epistrophy.' Again a display of density and light, hard hitting, percussive and also graceful – literally perhaps when he took it out on a beautiful, slow lilt shot through with gospel. Speaking finally to the audience, the poker face and thousand-yard stare disappeared as he introduced the bassist and drummer in humorous fashion, displaying a self-deprecating wit. The first time I saw him a couple of years back I noticed this change between off-stage and on, the severe concentration when playing offset by a smiling demeanour when the music stopped.
The encore signalled this again – saying that he had no idea what they would do, he returned to the piano and at one point waved his hands theatrically above the keys, gave them a quizzical wide-eyed look and shouted something about not knowing what he was playing. Ha ha – the essence of free jazz... and perhaps something of the joker coming out. (Remember 'Streets' the clown? Check his comments about this persona in the interview linked above).
In a very crowded room what was noticeable was that there was no chatter – this trio held the audience throughout. One of the reasons I like coming to this joint – intimate surroundings, informal yet not over-reverent, populated by a mixed audience, age and sex, rather than a preponderance of grizzled veterans (like myself) nodding into their beards. Only drag tonight was – it would have been impossible to squeeze out of my seat quietly to get a drink during the long sets so no extra lubrication was available. But I can live with that – as can my burgeoning flesh.
Another flier of a gig down the Oto – which has got to be (for me) the best venue around these last couple of years for a range of exploratory musics. Makes me think about moving back to the metropolis...
I found this vid of Sullivan and Thompson which shows off their skills...
and one of Charles Gayle at the piano - in his 'Streets' costume...
