Ray Charles... Peter Brotzmann/William Parker/Hamid Drake... Art Farmer... Toshinori Kondo... 'Big John' Patton...

Opening the cabinet of curios again – this is a Ray Charles date, one that is usually sidelined in favour of the better-known sessions that produced 'Genius plus Soul equals Jazz.' A run through 'Senor Blues', the Horace Silver tune. No vocals – just instrumental. An insistent bass figure builds the spine of the piece before the ensemble comes in. Trumpet solo – Blue Mitchell. Some high stepping and brassy preaching. Clifford Scott, I think, solos next. Juggles some soul blues fragments effectively enough. Then Brother Ray, who could play a mean blues. Spare and funky, just a couple of choruses, slightly battling the background band figures and oddly reminding me of John Lewis... Trying to get the personnel for this date was difficult – robbed it from the BBC Radio 3 in the end... I have fond memories of Ray Charles, one of the musicians I worshipped when I was a kid - saw him live a couple of times with his big band and the Raylettes, just as he was breaking to a larger audience. An interesting combination of raw blues and jazz with country just peeping in at that point.

Brotzmann opens, sounding like an asthmatic vacuum cleaner, hoovering up the notes. 'The heart and the bones,' from a trio date with William Parker and Hamid Drake, taken from their 2001 album 'Never too late but always too early:dedicated to Peter Kowald.' (The late bassist, although recorded before his death as a tribute). The Brotz granularities extend to William Parker's cross-sounding arco solo. Brotz moves to clarinet and takes over, woody and mysterious, distanced, over sporadic colouring percussion and riffing from Parker. Up the register to raise the emotional stakes as Drake starts to hit a few grooves. Return to the lower end, fluid, bubbling. A zig-zagging game of register polarity as he rises again into high squalling spurred by heavy hitting from the drums. Parker exercises his doussin gouni for a section, extending into a quasi-African sound world with hypnotic repetitions. Brotzmann returns on taragato, to cross an eastern timbre with the African as Drake goes berserker, sounding like he's enjoying himself with his rolling thunder. Ebbing nicely away at the end... An interesting journey away from the usual sturm und drang of Brotzmann's fire musics – and especial honours to the drummer.

Toshinori Kondo – solo trumpet, playing a splattering, smearing dazzle of textures fired through his electronic rig to amplify the different shapes of his breath and saliva moving through the instrument. Setting off a looping fragment as background, an insistent whirling that dies to leave slow gurglings that intensify and speed up - to suddenly stop. Kondo also performed with Brotzmann and company in the 'Die like a Dog' band, adding an impressive chunk of technical expertise and colour to that powerhouse unit. Playing the old influences game: if a line extends from Albert Ayler through to that group, Kondo walked in on one leading from Electric Miles (and late Don Ellis?). He'd travelled a long way...

Out of the traps fast – a boppish blues line: 'Farmer's Market.' Kenny Drew, nifty and accurate, takes first solo honours, rolling single notes out in a long arc. A droll quote - 'Buttons and Bows'... de rigeur for the genre... Farmer next, rapid fire elegance – a man who never seemed hurried at whatever tempo. Mobley picks up from his last phrase as he enters. Quite a soft tone compared to many other tenorist of the time, he was capable of much subtlety. Addison Farmer does a fast walk for a chorus or two – straight four. Last chorus and out. The young Elvin Jones keeps it all moving. Bop as she was done in 1956.

'Jakey' by Big John Patton, from 1965. Fast riff theme and Patton goes up first. Funky lines backed by sharp splinters of Granty Green chords. Vibes next, cooling it down a tad, the ice next to the smoky fire, sparked again by Green's guitar comping. Green solos, a keener, bluesy twang to his tone than many other modern jazz guitarists. Patton rides it out to the end. Music to make you feel good... dedicated to my young grandson... Jake...






Ray Charles (pno) Bobby Bryant, Blue Mitchell (tpt) Glen Childress (tbn) J. Lloyd Miller (oboe) Curtis Peagler (as) Andrew Ennis (ts) Clifford Scott, Albert McQueen (ts) Leroy Cooper (bs) James Martin (gtr) Edgar Willis (bs) unknown (d)
Senor Blues
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Peter Brötzmann (ts, a-cl, tar) William Parker (b, doussin gouni) Hamid Drake (d)
The heart and the bones
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Toshinori Kondo (t, electronics)
Tojin
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Art Farmer
Art Farmer (t) Hank Mobley (ts) Kenny Drew (d) Addison Farmer (b) Elvin Jones (d)
Farmers Market
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Big John Patton
John Patton (org) Grant Green (g) Bobby Hutchinson (vib) Otis 'Candy' Finch (d)
Jakey
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Spring and all mix...

Things have been a trifle hectic since I got back - but here is my seasonal mix, prepared before I left for Berlin - and forgotten about until about half an hour ago...
More mp3s and the usual guff tomorrow - but for now here is the tracklist for:

Spring and All (thanks WCW)



1. Clifford Thornton – Tout le pouvoir au peuple
2. Duke Ellington - Moonbow
3. Georgia Ann Muldrow – New Orleans
4. Jelly Roll Morton – Sidewalk Blues
5. Tom Lehrer – Poisoning pigeons in the park
6. Miles Davis – I could write a book
7. Da Lata - Cores
8. Odd Nosdam – Forever Heavy
9. John Martyn – I'd rather be the devil
10. Burial – Ghost Hardware
11. Whitedog – Crashing
12. Sonny Rollins – Without a song
13. Bessie Smith – After you've gone
14. Velvet Underground+Nico – Sunday Morning
15. Sandy Denny – No more sad refrains
16. Frank Marmion – The hole in the elephant's bottom

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Review: Magik Markers... Human Bell... Gnomes of Zurich... at the Rose of England, Nottingham, Thursday 24th April...

Back to the Rose of England in Nottingham for Magik Markers plus two others – Human Bell and the Gnomes of Zurich.

The upstairs room at the Rose is a splendidly beat-up place - I noticed the 'for sale' sign outside and wondered if new owners would keep it intact - a shrine to those much-loved pub function rooms where the bohemian dance goes on forever. The main bonus of, whimsy aside, is the large stage, which tonight also made the changeovers more easy, I would assume...

First up, a duo, guitar and drums, Gnomes of Zurich. Two young guys who made a freeflowing racket, the amplified acoustic guitar giving an interesting timbral edge. Good support to set the tone of the night – that sprawling area where folk, rock and free jazz collide. A punky edge to the Gnomes, over galloping backbeats. The duo format can be a bit exposed (especially sans bass) and they expand it well with some use of looping guitar fragments towards the end...






Human Bell are a trio, two guitars (one doubling on trumpet – I kid you not) and drums. Eschewing bass again, the long, haunting modal/minor guitar figures buttress each other into a fluid textural mix that makes up for that lack. A strong folk move here... and interesting use of repetition as they roll out the melodies over and over with subtle colourings that change the angles ever so slightly. Not to everyone's taste – a few left for the bar during their set. Fascinating to delineate these evocations of the high lonesome – the banjo-like frailing transferred to the double headed electric guitar, for example. Murkier sonorities rose as their set progressed, evoking the ghost of Link Wray in Rumble-reverbing. And then a swerve totally sideways – a trumpet being produced and a dash essayed into Bill Dixon territory, sad looping figures. They needed longer, I think, to progress this stuff through into the space it demands... But: intriguing and thoughtful stuff, none the less...






























Magik Markers are now a two-piece after Leah Quimby headed for the tall timber some time back, guitar and drums, in a mirror of the start band, to give the evening a symmetrical arc. Face buried in her fringe, Elisa Ambrogio whacks out splintering guitar over Pete Nolan's whirlwind rhythms, folk blues occasionally channelled by her use of bottleneck – although here seen as a root that has grown and encountered different theologies of noise production rather than retro blues moves. Which could be a metaphor for the evening, thinking about it, especially for the two American bands, who jack into cultural mainlines that still exist, which gives them their vitality, older forms hurled into the maelstroms of contemporary electronics to produce new deliriums of noise/pleasure. One problem: couldn't hear the vocals, they were just a blur of vocal timbre. Which in this music doesn't matter so much, perhaps, in embracing the over-reaching gestalt – but when you go to the albums, you realise you are missing out – especially on the latest material which plays around intriguingly with a sharp twist into song forms dipped in the acids of earlier noiseworks and fuelled by the ongoing energies of an improvisational ethic that embraces the freedoms therein... And: the set was too short again – a problem you had to live with I guess to get three bands on... Hi ho – all in a night's gig – the Markers are a blast whatever the minor carpings... especially the ongoing-developments and consolidations.

Murray and I enjoyed ourselves but thought that maybe things were a little scrappy, not enough time for sets to develop - but at 6 quid a pop for three bands in a good-natured venue – DamnYou as ever come up with the goods...

Return...

Back from Berlin, batteries recharged... A review of the Magik Markers gig in Nottingham on Thursday night to follow... and some mp3s... Later...

Berlin...

There is a certain raffish, informal character to Berlin on first impression... and it is a place I really like and feel at home in. A strange series of movements so far - took over the apartment after meeting up with Murray who was also here this week in one of those odd synchronicities that make life interesting. Didn't have much time as he had a flight to catch - but he looked as if he had enjoyed himself. I caught up with an old friend on Saturday whom I haven't seen for several years. Fast relay of information - he has been around, out in the Ukraine for a while and living here now for a couple of years or more. And also has a charming wife and bouncy three year old boy. We went out for a walk and ended up in Treptower Park.The Soviet War Memorial is solemnly impressive, complete with quotations from the old mass-murderer Uncle Joe... Spooky place, especially on a dark, cold afternoon...

Today I went to the flea market down the road and just wandered around a mass of stalls and bustling crowds, picking up on the vibe... Stood for a while listening to the trio in the photos - cool music, especially a version of 'Fly me to the moon' which sounded like Nico doing a jazz gig - except that the girl singing had a better voice! Beats some ratbag slumped on the pavement singing 'Times they are a changing.'

I was going out to a gig tonight but fell asleep!

Tomorrow off to Kreuzberg...

Arthur Doyle... Roscoe Mitchell... Elmo Hope

A quick hit - I'm off to Berlin in a few hours so on the clock - will try to post from there...

Put 'Arthur Doyle' into Google and you get loads of references to the English writer Arthur Conan Doyle, creator of Sherlock Holmes. Which I find vastly amusing... images of a concept album by the saxophonist – 'Horn of the Baskervilles,' anyone? Well, Holmes took dope and played the violin so plenty of room for cliché/archetype. Maybe he did a reverse Ornette: 'Pass me my alto, Dr Watson, man – got a gig...' Further whimsy - the title of the band playing on this album – Arthur Doyle Plus Four - seem to echo this gag – in the old school Brit golfing trouser department, perhaps.

Enough...

But Doyle has played over here in the U.K. occasionally, although I've missed him live, unfortunately... Ah, the perils of the provincial life. This is 'Ancestor,' from 1978. Opening on a bass vamp – off in the distance somewhere, recording being a bit scruffy. Soon joined by a spatter of double drums and trombone moanings (Charles Stephens) like some lost cow, alternating with higher whoops. Doyle comes in on an angry squall as the sound world expands and builds, propelled by the two drummers. The resulting trombone figures give an air of Albert Ayler's simple but effective anthems, an anchoring around which Doyle swirls. Sudden ending. An effective free-for-all...

The first track from Roscoe Mitchell's 1992 album 'This dance is for Steve McCall,' 'Ericka.' Commencing with an almost bucolic saxophone – high purity. Joined by bass – two long-drawn deep notes. The two basses take over, a slow dark arco weave. The saxophone edges quietly back in and out, as if peeping out between billowing heavy curtains of velvet. Piano and drums engage – sporadic commentary. Sudden jump cut to drums/percussion upping the tempo – an African feel. Basses join and a long flow of piano that builds with stabbing chords and surging lines. Mitchell enters again, upping the game with chesty sax, coming to a rather sudden end.

The Elmo Hope Trio 1959, playing 'Minor Bertha.' Some nice piano swirls in this, Frank Butler cutting through with a few slashes as Bond holds it down tightly...



Arthur Doyle
Arthur Doyle (ts, cl, f) Charles Stephens (tr)Richard Williams (el-b) Rashied Sinan (d)
Ancestor
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Roscoe Mitchell and the Note Factory
Roscoe Mitchell (ss, as, ts, bamboo fl, perc) Matthew Shipp (p) Jaribu Shahid (b) William Parker (b, perc) Tani Tabbal, Vincent Davis (d, hand d)
Ericka
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Elmo Hope
Elmo Hope (p) Jimmy Bond (b) Frank Butler (d)
Minor Bertha
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Thelonious Monk... Johnny Griffin/Eddie Lockjaw Davis... Cannonball Adderley

Monk takes three minutes and fifteen seconds to stretch out on one chorus of 'I should care.' Slowed down for every crunching sonority to ring out to his quizzical ear, as if turning each small phrase round in his head before fingering the keyboard. Timing is all...

'Soft Winds,' from 'Tough Tenors' - by the tough tenors par excellence, Johnny Griffin and Eddie 'Lockjaw' Davis. Earthy music, but played with the technical finesse that was required of musicians raised in bop and beyond. Johnny Griffin, of course, was a fearsome soloist at nightmare tempos, gunslinger supreme, although he developed his ballad playing as he got older. Davis was maybe not rated so highly - yet he could hold his own in most company. Yet: this is a relaxed performance that goes against the grain of their macho reputations. Sprightly piano from Junior Mance leads it in. Davis takes the first solo, prodding at a couple of riffs until he eventually wakes himself up with a fearsome r and b-like smear followed by some more fancy stuff. Mance comes up with his usual blues-inflections, bouncing nicely through. Griffin starts quietly, building slowly up to some r and b inflected call and response figures. An odd track in their canon, perhaps, more relaxed than some of the wilder workouts...

Cannonball Adderley was playing in the Miles Davis band when he made the 1958 Blue Note album 'Somethin' Else,' from which I have chosen brother Nat's composition 'One for Daddy O.' Easy swinging in, Cannon takes the first solo. Always something of a spring morning about his playing (or maybe it's because the sun is shining for once in God's Little Acre - in between the hail and rain). There was always a piping clarity to his lines that spun complexity and emotion into such an attractive dance. Ending as Blakey summons one of his mighty press-rolls and Miles is almost propelled forward by the air-pressure. Moving through the space in such a different way, with a more plaintive and shadowed emotion, some piercing high notes that cut straight through you. Hank Jones takes a sparkle of a solo and Cannon returns for some more, as does Miles, again using half as many notes, the contrast between the sparse and the plenty creating a dynamic that drives this album, as with so much of Davis's work. Although Miles could let rip when he felt the need, it wasn't so much a matter of technique, rather: sensibility and sensitivity to the occasion. Jones wraps up before they take the theme out. Miles was a guest on the session – although there is some dispute as to how much of a part he played overall on the date and his sign-off at the end of this track, the famous 'Is that what you wanted, Alfred?' seems to hint at a wider involvement. Still... who cares? This was a marvellous date, one of those places where various lines meet... on the apex of hard bop, with 'Kind of Blue' just round the corner. Cannon is an underrated sax player, I feel – probably because he was another who was touted as the 'New Bird' on his debut – who could live up to that? Or maybe because he went off and made some money before his tragic early death? Lest we forget - he stood alongside Miles and the burgeoning John Coltrane and always held his ground. Mercy mercy mercy...

More later: it looks as if the weather may permit a dash to the shops - if we are quick...

In the Videodrome...

Tough Tenors...


Cannonball talks about Bird and plays... the subject is... jazz...

Orrin Keepnews on Monk...



Thelonious Monk (p)
I should care
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Johnny Griffin/Eddie 'Lockjaw' Davis
Eddie "Lockjaw" Davis, Johnny Griffin (ts) Junior Mance (p) Larry Gales (b) Ben Riley (d)
Soft Winds
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Cannonball Adderley
Julian Cannonball Adderley (as) Miles Davis (t) Hank Jones (p) Sam Jones (b) Art Blakey (d)
One for Daddy O
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Birthday... Cecil Taylor... Coleman Hawkins/Ben Webster... Annette Peacock... Rickie Lee Jones... Charles Gayle/John Tchicai...

Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me... etc... Wouldn't have thought to make 61, to be honest. But every day is a blessing... Some music, then...

Cecil of course, on this day... From the infamous Victoriaville concert in 2002 – with Tony Oxley and Bill Dixon. This is 'T/CxB.' Nate Dorward, whose criticism reflected many others, hated Dixon's contribution: 'the trumpeter’s playing solipsistic, even weirdly infantile, in its regression to the sounds of gurgling, breathing and farting, its indifference to line, shape or direction, and its inability to enter into meaningful dialogue.' It's certainly a little different... Mind you, I thought Dixon was fascinating at the London concert a couple of years back, sculpting sound from his electronics... Not many shared my enthusiasm, it has to be said... à chacun son goût...

Two giants of the tenor saxophone playing 'It never entered my mind,' led in carefully by Oscar Peterson. Ben Webster swooshing through, master of the ballad, sprung on a tight rhythm section. Tenor as sonic painting rather than pyrotechnics – Webster reminds me of a deeper version of Johnny Hodges – whom he sat next to in the Ellington sax section in earlier years. To bounce off something Albert Ayler once said, this isn't about the notes – its about the sound and emotions. Hawk – a harder edge, the fountainhead of jazz tenor saxophone. Timeless.

Annette Peacock does Elvis – 'Love me tender.' From her record, 'I'm the one.' Elvis never a favourite singer of mine -I was always a Jerry Lee man... This is much better... IMHO...

Rickie Lee Jones I have always liked... This is the last track from her album 'Sermon on Exposition Boulevard,' 'I was there.'

Charles Gayle partnered up with John Tchicai for this 1988 date – from which I've taken the last cut, 'Then offer all.' One of the highspots of last year was seeing Gayle live in the U.K. twice and he's one of my totally favourite musicians. Nothing abstract about these truths...

Happy birthday to me... Onwards - Berlin in ten days! But today - lunch with my tribe... guess who's paying...

Cecil Taylor (p) Bill Dixon (t, bugle) Tony Oxley (d)
T/CxB
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Coleman Hawkins/Ben Webster
Coleman Hawkins, Ben Webster (ts) Oscar Peterson (p) Herb Ellis (g) Ray Brown (b) Alvin Stoller (d)
It never entered my mind
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Annette Peacock
Tom Cosgrove (g) Stu Woods (b) Rick Morotta (d) Barry Altschul, Airto Moreira, Orestes Vilato, Domun Romao (perc) Annette Peacock - composer (music & words), arranger, producer, singer, electric vocals, pianos (acoustic & electric), synthesizers, electric vibraphone)
Love me tender
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Rickie Lee Jones
Rickie Lee Jones (v, g, dul, keys, Moog syn, xyl, b- g, perc) Peter Atanasoff (g, oud, background v) Bernie Larsen (gr, d); Pete Thomas, Rob Schnapf (ac- g) Joey Maramba (b-g) Jay Bellerose (d) Lee Cantelon (background v)
I was there
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Charles Gayle
Charles Gayle (ts) John Tchicai (ts, ss) Sirone (b) Reggie Nicholson (d)
Then offer all
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Benny Golson... Blind Willie Johnson... Cecil Taylor...

Bennie Golson arranged and conducted – but did not play on - his 1962 album 'Just Jazz. A selection of classic jazz themes, from which I have selected the old Basie number 'Moten Swing.' A stately, crisp theme statement, counter-pointed by some sharp comping from Bill Evans. Shorter takes the first solo, very quickly spinning off on long double-timed runs - that flavour of Coltrane still there, although his tone is more distant, foggy. Evans comes in next, locked hands style – almost like Red Garland – maybe it was the rhythm section – Paul Chambers and Jimmy Cobb, from Miles' band - that had echoes for him. The other ensemble that springs to mind looking at the front line – Blakey's Jazz Messengers, with whom Freddie Hubbard, Curtis Fuller and Wayne Shorter were playing round the time of this session. Golson, of course had been in the band a couple of years before. Another geeky fact that points up this intermarriage – Miles occasionally had a trombone in his front line that year – Frank Rehak. Curtis Fuller has also been in his band during the late fifties. Golson's writing made a strong contribution to the evolution of the Messengers sound – the middle eight in the theme statements here has a certain swing and attack that reminds me of the Blakey group – although Jimmy Cobb is not such a violent hitter as Buhaina – crisp cymbals rather than surging press rolls from the left hand of God... Memo to self: must dig out my copy of Blakey's 'Free Jazz,' with Hubbard, Shorter and Fuller – a fiery, wild record.


The pride of Beaumont, Texas, Blind Willie Johnson singing 'God moves on the water' in 1929, a song about the sinking of the Titanic in 1912. Superbly tight slide and accurate single note runs across a solid rhythm. The click of the bottleneck on the wood of the guitar gives an acoustic immediacy to the performance that cuts across the years. The hoarse gruff voice is shadowed superbly, question and answer back and forth. Johnson's God annihilates the worldly ambitions of the powerful:

'A.G. Smith, mighty man, built a boat that he couldn't understand
Named it a name of God in a tin, without a "c", Lord, he pulled it in.'

Some debate about this last line – including here... one for the detectives... although I guess that the sense is obvious - the old God Titan defeated by the Christian deity. Certainly - 'The Titanic... served as a warning about technology--about the hubris of a "progressive" age that believed it could subdue nature.' (Taken from a fascinating look at the cultural impact of the Titanic disaster here ). A related incident that would have had further personal resonance in African-American culture was the alleged refusal to allow Jack Johnson the boxer to travel first class:

'Champion boxer Jack Johnson supposedly was refused First-Class passage on the Titanic, due to the fact that he was a negro. He would not travel in the Second or Third-Class areas offered to him, because he thought it was below his stature. Disgusted, he did not board the Titanic, and travelled on another liner.' (From here ). Leadbelly famously mentions this in his (later) song about the Titanic...

'Jack Johnson wanna get on board, Captain said I ain't hauling no coal.
Fare thee, Titanic, fare thee well.
When Jack Johnson heard that mighty shock, mighta seen the man do the Eagle rock.
Fare thee, Titanic, fare thee well.'

I think they call it schadenfreude... But there were many songs written about the disaster... hubris writ large...


Early Cecil again – from 1961, this is 'Cindy's Main Mood, take one.' A three way improvisation between Neidlinger, Billy Higgins and Taylor, ushered in by the drums, as the bass thrums deep and Taylor joins them, pecking away at first, then lop-sided tumbling figures before the line starts to extend. When you compare this performance to the Golson track above, recorded a year later, a measure, perhaps, of the distance travelled by Taylor from his arrival in the fifties can be roughly sketched. On the jazz continuum (no argument there - one would hope)– the bass and drums ensure that - but far enough away from the hard bop norm to sound shocking in its acoustic disruptions and remakings. A session where two of the roads coming through the avant garde meet – the drummer had played with Ornette Coleman's ground-breaking group and, like the altoist, had started out in rhythm and blues. This track was on an album called 'New York R and B.' So it goes, as Kurt Vonnegut used to say...


Bennie Golson
Freddie Hubbard (tp) Curtis Fuller (tb) Wayne Shorter (ts) Bill Evans (p) Paul Chambers (b) Jimmy Cobb (d) Benny Golson (arr, cond)
Moten Swing
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Blind Willie Johnson (g,v)
God moves on the water
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Cecil Taylor
Cecil Taylor (p)Buell Neidlinger (b)Billy Higgins (d)
Cindy's Main Mood (take one)
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Charlie Parker/Dizzie Gillespie... Horace Silver/Jazz Messengers... Jim Hall/Bill Evans... Cecil Taylor

To be or not to bop (with apologies to Babs Gonzales...)


Bird and Diz at Carnegie Hall, 1947... Bop in the joy spring of its years... This is 'Confirmation' – of their greatness (I know - but - couldn't resist). Opening on drums, then the familiar theme in unison at a sprightly tempo. Bird up first, sounding relaxed, sudden flurries of notes breaking the line. Tone drenched in the blues, such a human sound. The double-tempo he frequently launches into and stays in for long stretches is stunning. Yet the tune is never far away – this is not just virtuoso playing over the changes. Gillespie next – soaring upwards to descend in rapid runs, brash, brassy and beautiful. John Lewis takes a solo from somewhere upstate by the muffled sound of it – way off-mike. Bass up briefly then theme and out. Rapturous applause etc... and rightly so. Glory Days.

Bop – to the birth of hard bop. Returning to the blues as grounding (although Bird was never more than a flicker away from them). Horace Silver and the Jazz Messengers. Their first incarnation as a small group - Silver was to leave and Art Blakey take over the leadership. From 1955, playing his composition the ever-catchy 'Doodlin.' Silver takes the first solo, funky figures, a facet of his style that perhaps Bobby Timmons would inherit when he joined the band in 1958. Think Moanin' etc... Much dropping of 'g's, I'm thinkin'... Tenor next, Hank Mobley, sounding calm, a little detached almost, although spiking his passage with blues figures. Kenny Dorham then, as Silver plays an almost boogie woogie train figure underneath for the first chorus and a few bars into the second. Elegant and spacious trumpet. Blakey takes a piece, some hard hitting on and off the beat as his cymbals mark the movement through. Funky.

Onwards a few years – back to the cool, say, in 1962. Jim Hall and Bill Evans take a look at 'I'm getting sentimental over you.' Slow yet supple, weaving round each other in an intricate coupling, seamlessly moving between accompaniment and solo – blurring the partition, actually while not getting in each other's way - guitar and piano can create a muddy sound if the participants are not very careful. Here? Two hearts beating as one... well, I'm in a sentimental mood myself today... Intelligent and moving.

Cecil Taylor at the old johanna live and solo from the Montreux Jazz Festival in 1974, this is 'After All (Fifth Movement).' Repeating an opening chordal figure to suddenly spray a higher flash of notes across the deeper contrast. More complex harmonic terrain than above – yet still you find a bluesy snatch here and there that links to the tradition. Behind it all, however abstracted or disguised, the rhythms of jazz. European conservatory meets the Afro-American tradition (Cecil uses call and response as a major performative vehicle). Towards the end, thoughtful, rhapsodic and perhaps not so far removed from Bill Evans above...

A final thought on criticism - what it should be, as opposed to what it frequently has been and is, in all disciplines:

'Admit what you can’t conceal,' [Randall] Jarrell concludes in "The Age of Criticism," 'that criticism is no more than (and no less than) the helpful remarks and the thoughtful and disinterested judgment of a reader, a loving and experienced and able reader, but only a reader. . . . Remember that you can never be more than the staircase to the monument, the guide to the gallery, the telescope through which the children see the stars. At your best you make people see what they might never have seen without you; but they must always forget you in what they see.' (From here... ).

Not sure about the 'experienced and able' (or 'disinterested' - music is too intense an experience for me) but certainly 'loving' in my own case... and hopefully 'helpful' occasionally... I love the image of 'the staircase to the monument.' As a renegade from academe, how true those words are and how many critical 'monuments' exist, that should be knocked down for 'staircases.'

Oo-pop-a-da - to end where we started, with Babs Gonzales...




Charlie Parker (as) Dizzie Gillespie (t) John Lewis (p) Al McKibbon (b) Joe Harris (d)
Confirmation
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Horace Silver and the Jazz Messengers
Horace Silver (p) Kenny Dorham (t) Hank Mobley (ts) Doug Watkins (b) Art Blakey (d)
Doodlin'
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Jim Hall (g) Bill Evans (p)
I'm getting sentimental over you
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Cecil Taylor (p)
After All (Fifth Movement)
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Ummm... and eartrip magazine...

I was on the way out tonight (to hear some music, not in the sense of snuffing it, you understand) but when I stuck my head out the door something - guilt at lack of blogging or the cold wind or the gust of rain coming in on the breeze from Lincolnshire - or a combo of these factors - brought me back in again. I suppose one develops a certain blogging fatigue anyway - my posting have been somewhat sporadic for a while now. But one makes the effort - the rewards outweigh the hassle overall and I blog because I both enjoy it and (I think) benefit from the discipline... I had intended to post a review of the Pete Morton gig last week but did not want to duplicate a lot of what I said here in a long, rambling writeup sometime back so - back-burnered slightly, as I realised I could write about Pete from a different and broader angle concerning his relationship to contemporary acoustic 'folk' music which would cover some wider issues I have been concerned with. Soon, hopefully...

Some mp3s to follow later - but first a mention of a new venture - I received a mail alerting me to the first issue of 'eartrip' magazine, available here (scroll down) as a PDF download. Anyone interested in 'Jazz, Improv, Other' should grab this asap and support the venture -a lot of hard work has obviously gone into its production. Mucho informative and entertaining stuff delivered with energy and love - and I've only scratched the surface so far. Congratulations to David Grundy for getting this out...

So: search for the corkscrew and start uploading the music...

Pete Morton...

Recovering from last night - a brilliant gig (as ever - can't remember a bad one in over twenty years) by old favourite Pete Morton - review to follow, no doubt...

Art Tatum... James Emery... Oliver Nelson... Amina Claudine Myers... Bessie Smith

Art Tatum steps elegantly into 'A Foggy Day,' followed by the sour-sweet alto of Bennie Carter. From the album 'Tatum Group Masterpieces, Volume One,' a classic track. Carter is magisterial, imperious even, one of the great saxophonists in jazz, yet one perhaps overshadowed by Bird and Johnny Hodges on alto, perhaps because of his long time spent in the studios as an in-demand arranger. The evidence for his real standing speaks out in the theme statements and solos... Good overview of his astoundingly long career here...
Tatum still causes critical splits, with some not able to enter his sound-world of overwhelming, swirling, rapidfire piano. Me – I love him. You can hear his stride influences clearly here, overlaid with diamond-sharp runs and harmonic disruptions, Carter, however, well able to stand up to the gale force. Louis Bellson keeps it ticking over. I've often seen Tatum as the father, not just of the bop piano players, but of free jazz firebrand Cecil Taylor. Max Roach makes the same point, sort of:

'“Now you have people... who preserve the tradition. And then there are people who push forward, who perpetuate the continuum by trying out things. Cecil Taylor is more like Art Tatum than a guy who plays like Tatum. It may not always come off, but that’s what creativity’s about. .' (From here... )

Swooning, vertiginous bass introduces James Emery's '4 Quartets Fugitive Items,' taken from the 2003 release, 'Transformations.' Throughout, the bass keeps a strong jazz reference going underneath the more 'third-stream' writing and European nuances. Emery has a unique touch on guitar, spidering his finger-buster angular runs throughout in sudden dashes of cool brilliance. An interesting composition which allows space for Tony Coe, Franz Kogelman and the bass player, Peter Herbert to demonstrate their ease of performance with this complex music. I originally came across James Emery with the String Trio of New York way back – with Billy Bang and John Lindberg – playing similar chamber jazz – with a similar steely heart.

Oliver Nelson and company play 'The Meeting,' from the album 'Screamin' the Blues.' A soul-jazz feel to the swaying gospel roll and 'amen' cadences. Richard Williams chokes out some fierce trumpet. Then - Eric Dolphy, who especially on these earlier sides always sounds in a different galaxy compared to everyone else. Wyands takes a nifty solo without slipping too much into Timmons-y cliches y'all. Nelson next, that wide-open vibrato to the fore. I always find his playing intriguing in that he doesn't play complex lines particularly (and how to compete with the Immortal Eric?) yet he threads them through on interesting logic and tonal bending. Somewhat more interesting 1961 take on more rootsy jazz than many others - lifted by Dolphy's wild angularities...

Amina Claudine Myers channelling Bessie Smith. McBee opens here on fierce bass evoking earlier vocalised guitar styles ending on a repeating note that strums into a guitar-like backing as Myers enters vocally with the first chorus of 'Jailhouse Blues. Third chorus she brings in sharp piano chords and the drums kick in. She lets loose with a hard-hitting stomp of a solo that references the tradition – octave trills out of Hines, classic blues figures. Going out with the return of the bass – the star really of the track, although Amina does justice to a difficult task, given that her voice, good as it is, does not carry the massive emotional weight of the Mighty Bessie...

... who can be heard here doing the original. Power and soul...


Art Tatum
Art Tatum (p) Benny Carter as) Louis Bellson (d)
A Foggy Day
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James Emery
James Emery (g) Tony Coe (ts, cl) Franz Koglmann (fl-h) Peter Herbert (b)
4 Quartets Fugitive Items
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Oliver Nelson (ts) Richard Williams (t) Eric Dolphy (as) Richard Wyands (p) George Duvivier (b) Roy Haynes (d)
The Meetin'
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Amina Claudine Myers
Amina Claudine Myers (v, p) Cecil McBee (b) Jimmy Lovelace (d)
Jailhouse Blues
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Bessie Smith
Jailhouse Blues
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Berlin in April...

I'm in Berlin from April 17 through to 23 - any info on music/art scene welcome... improv/noise - you know what I like (as the Big Bopper once said...). Music up soon - funeral of much-loved family member later today so things unpredictable in their timing...

Pee Wee Russell... Peter Brotzmann/William Parker/Hamid Drake

Pee Wee Russell playing 'Minglewood,' a relaxed 12 bar blues. Opens on a hoarse chorus from clarinet – choked right back – spurred by old school skittering brushes from Osie Johnson. Buck delivers some elegant trumpet over a clarinet obligato. Pee Wee returns solo, higher and less granular yet no less angular -a diagonal querulousness that ends on a breathy deep goodbye. Buck back, subtley placed notes, in the next chorus hitting some higher stuff to raise the emotion with the register. Flanagan drops easily into mainstream mode, a spare line of some elegance. Back to the emphysema-tone of Russell for a chorus before Buck rejoins him, now muted for some old time wa wa, as they ride out together. Sublime...

Peter Brotzmann with William Parker and Hamid Drake: 'Never run but go 3.' Opens oddly enough in the same hoarse querulous register that Pee Wee sporadically employs above but with more aggression as Parker riffs and Drake gets almost calypso-ey... High-register squalls over hammered toms alternate with Brotz drops down into deeper chesty vocalised horn. Tough shit lightened and opened out at the bottom by the clattery surging drums. Parker hits a fast four in places to spring things along as the tenor splurts out a dense cloud of notes, all the way through varying his rhythms and lines – pro-active linchpin. Sudden drop out – sorry about that...


In the Videodrome...

Pee Wee and Ruby at Newport...

Brotz on tarogato...

For the sheer fun of it - George Clinton and co...


Pee Wee Russell
Pee Wee Russell (cl) Buck Clayton (t) Tommy Flanagan (p) Wendell Marshall (b) Osie Johnson (d)
Englewood
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Peter Brotzmann/William Parker/Hamid Drake
Peter Brotzmann (ts, tar, cl) William Parker (b, Doussn'gouni) Hamid Drake (d)
Never run but go 3
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Review: The Loughborough Folk Festival, 7-9 March, 2008

Festivals are always an interesting exercise in selectivity – choosing whom you are going to see invariably means that you will miss out on someone – But I picked a reasonably balanced path through the overall fandango, given I had other time constraints which meant that I would miss some of the earlier daily sessions and the last sunday night concert. Starting with Friday night, the inaugural performance of the Loughborough Folk Festival with Tom and Gren – favouritism, yes, we know them well... Followed by a fringe session at the Pack Horse, an open evening for a variety of mainly traditional performers - a wild night. Saturday – a quick look at Lisa Knapp before going to another superb singaround and the big concert of the evening – Waterson/Carthy, via some impromptu sideshows scattered around the building. Sunday – watched the local massed Morris crews before The Young Coppers backed with Shirley Collins' stunning 'America over the water.' Met a lot of old friends, made a couple of new ones. Drank too much, had a good time overall. Much food for thought, about what folk music is now in this country, what it was – and what it could be... More detailed breakdown below...




















Friday

No choice. Had to go and support the boys who are steadily making ground in their professional career. Tom Kitching and Gren Bartley, relaxed and on fine form in what was (potentially) quite an intimidating scenario as festival openers. A big crowd, who enjoyed their set – an interesting mix of traditional and contemporary musics and songs, drawing on a wide range of sources, American, English and beyond, plus self-composed material. I saw them only a couple of weeks ago on a club gig and was struck by the distance they had travelled in such a short space of time. Gren's voice has got much stronger and, by keeping to his own natural timbres, he is able to handle potentially awkward emotional/cultural areas – American blues and gospel - with a certain finesse. For example, his English voice gives their version of a raw American gospel song like Blind Willie Johnson's 'You're going to need somebody on your bond' a certain detachment that helps to set up a channel to the original rather than trying to copy it by crossing over into 'blackface' - which would be disastrous. Not sure why this works – but it does, as if by stepping back into your own musical culture you can better find a more accurate resonation with the source material. Tom Kitching's violin playing is expressive and strong throughout, the perfect fiery accompaniment to Gren's cool fast-picking guitar and vocals – plus his announcements are witty and he seems at ease with the audience. A demonstration of how to blend old and new succesfully...

Over to the Pack Horse for Frank's singaround session – one of those nights that make a festival special, where you can go off official ground and into a less regulated space. A chaotic evening – in the best sense as the room was jammed throughout by an audience good-naturedly accepting the cramped conditions especially at the back. A large battery of performers, high standard throughout, during which the local singers more than held their own with the visitors, both grand and anonymous. Overwhelmingly traditional – which is unusual for the broad church of the Pack Horse – but the atmosphere generated overcame the narrowing of genres. A great night, much talked about over the coming weekend. Frank came up trumps (again) with a lot of thought and hard work gone in beforehand that was masked by an easy conviviality and a light hand. Plus: the new regime at the Pack helps to make the pub a more pleasant place to visit than it has been for a long, long time... A quick shout to Theresa, the landlady, for her ongoing hospitality.





















Saturday

Unfortunately I missed the Distil showcase – would have been interested to check this out, the various collaborations and commissions involving electronics etc... But I went briefly to see Lisa Knapp – and left after about three numbers. Nice voice, but a shade too light for my taste and the performance did not hit any emotional resonators. The sound did not help either. No question of musical ability... worthy - but dull... Maybe she would be better heard in a more intimate club situation? . The problem being, I suppose, for a festival as overwhelmingly dedicated to orthodox traditional singing, if they brought in some of the current movers and shakers who are revitalising folk musics here and in the U.S.A., these may well be too far out for the audience they have, given the overall demographics of the musical comfort zone. Maybe not - it would be nice to see how Directing Hand, say, or Hush Arbors, to name but two at random, would fare in this situation...

The above comments do not mean that I have a dislike of traditional music. Far from it...the next session I attended was the 'Loughborough Tradition' singaround in the council chamber (so this is where they plan the wasting my council tax? Hmmm... Empty my bins weekly, you bastards!). Will Noble and John Cocking, the Orchard Family, Jeff Wesley were truly outstanding – although, and just by a whisker – Mike Waterson and Louie Killen took the overall prize for me. But this was not a contest - they were all good. The understated power and subtle emotions grabbed me mightily. But, hey, next time – turn the overhead searchlights off! An awareness of more professional lighting would have helped the overall ambiance. Too piercing, man, to quote the immortal Stan Freberg... Still, a masterclass...

So at last to Waterson-Carthy..... The Watersons were an old love of mine from when they first surfaced, way back in the folk day. Because he has been around for so long as well, Carthy you can take for granted - at your peril. Although he looked rough and was, apparently, suffering from a bad cold (much resort to tissues throughout!), in tandem with his wife and the younger duo - Saul Rose and Liza – he delivered a performance that was professional in the best sense of accomplished rather than slick, and powerfully emotional. They seemed to be firing on all cylinders – Norma Waterson and her blow-torch of a voice with her daughter alongside giving out the high-octane full-tilt folk boogie – interesting to see the familial similarity in hand gestures as they both reached out expansively, music of the body and heart as much as the brain, as if the songs they delivered were so deeply felt and embedded that they were being wrenched out of their physical being. Operating on a continuum that signalled back to the beginnings of the revival on the hotwire to the tradition – and forward in gestures of renewal - this was, yes a sentimental night on one level – but also fresh, vibrant – and fun, proving what can be achieved still in the mainstream of English folk. One number – missed the title, but chorus 'I wish that the war was over' - showed how an old song can still have relevance. The contemporary point wasn't jabbed in your face in a party-political or sectarian way but understated – which made it all the more poignant. The instrumentals were swung and bounced mightily – Saul Rose making a strong contribution here especially, (as he did throughout) coupled to Liza's violin, Carthy Senior's subtle guitar weaving in and out and solid underneath as and when necessary. And the vocals – Martin, assured and understated yet coming from deep inside the songs, buttressed by his wife and daughter - when Norma slides up from a note, in a melisma worthy of that other great diva Aretha – or Vanessa Bell Armstrong - she raises up the hairs on the back of my neck – ditto her daughter. Passionate heartfelt music.

Sunday














Arrived to check out the Morris crew – a colourful sight on a bright, sharp Sunday afternoon. They were led up the street by a posse of young skate-boarders which made me smile – I wondered if they were part of the processional dance, Skate Morris anyone? Skate Morris punks? Some local Arts initiative to involve da local youth? Perhaps not... But a nice thought... Launching a new genre of music as well?




If the Watersons were one of the definitive groups that inculcated an interest in folk music for me back in the sixties, so too were their southern counterparts, the Copper Family. Both of whom proved, it seemed, that despite the overall cultural sidelining of traditional music in England, some musical strands, frayed though they may well have been, still linked us to previous generations. In 2008, to see these sons and daughter – the Young Coppers - continue in their family singing tradition was fascinating – and moving. It may seem almost perverse that, in a crowded and mainly urban country, so many of our rural songs, as exemplified by the Coppers collection, still speak to us so clearly. Maybe this is more my hearing of it, filtered through those earlier memories, but these songs evoke a particular place as well as time – an area that admittedly I know well, which gives added resonance. A superb and relaxed performance that overrode some small criticisms. It was pointed out to me, for example, by a friend and local singer that six voices might clutter the songs' harmonies– a valid observation, although I think that, in places, the lines benefited from that added thickening because of the relative youth of the singers. And any overlap gave the music a spontaneous edge, a loose feeling - almost harmolodic, to use a term from another genre - that benefits this style of singing. Anyway, age and experience will broaden and deepen the timbres to the warm depths and breadths of their forefathers. And the occasional mistake actually added to the easy manner in which material was introduced and set in personal and broader context – not a dry lecture on 'heritage' but a demonstration of persistence. And a subtle frame for what much 'folk music' once was – people gathered to sing in an unselfconscious way. These songs are not ready to die yet...

The Sussex link continued... Actually discovered by Bob Copper and following his family today, Shirley Collins delivered her extraordinary show 'America over the Water,' an account of her journey with Alan Lomax through America in 1959, the readings from her book interlaced with images and extracts from the original recordings, aided by actor Pip Barnes, who ventriloquised the various American voices superbly. Clocking in at nearly two hours, including an interval, it meant that if I stayed I would miss a large chunk of Eliza Carthy's set. No contest. Eliza I could no doubt see again – Shirley Collins is a unique presence, my favourite singer in the English tradition and a sharp-witted commentator on the same. Which meant there was no way I would move before the end as I witnessed a superb evocation of rural America at the end of the fifties: closed and often isolated communities of poor but culturally and politically dominant whites and segregated blacks, suspicious of each other (de jure segregation may have been ended in 1954 with the Supreme Court ruling on Brown v Board of Education but...); the strong role of religion in both, ironically not acting as a bridge between them; the fervour of both spiritual and secular forces expressed through their musics; the songs that could be traced back to the British Isles and to Africa. The sheer weirdness... Heady stuff. A history lesson from one of the stalwarts of the English revival whose good-humoured forward-looking presence back then acted as a strong counterbalance to the bossy purist commissars of the day. Some marvellous musical examples spiced the show, further illustrated by a haunting succession of black and white photographs – over all of which, arguably, towered the majestic presence of Fred McDowell, a star in the making. My friend Nigel scored a coup – by getting the Shirley Collins autograph on his old vinyl copy of Fred McDowell recordings... reproduced below.














Heady stuff, vastly enjoyable and much future food for thought, delivered with charm, grace and a sparkling humour...

Overall, then, a fascinating weekend, the traditional bias counterbalanced by the quality of the music and overall good humour. The venue was up for the task, the staff helpful, the catering and drinks side reasonably priced and available all hours, the one session I attended off-site was a great success. Hats off to the organisers. And I may have invented a new genre: Skate Punk Morris. Wonder if Jello Biafra is interested in a new project?

Soon come...

The Loughborough Folk Festival review is almost finished - delays due to extreme fatigue this week -the usual nonsense. But here is a taster, three photos from the weekend...

Slight Return... John Butcher/Xavier Charles/Axel Dorner... George Clinton/Funkadelic

Back from the Loughborough Folk Festival somewhat late last night... now recovering from the weekend fun... review and photos to follow... later... The album cover above resembles the way my head feels today...

So: a couple of tracks to pick things up - and little chat: John Butcher, Xavier Charles and Axel Dorner play 'Pamplemousse,' from a live performance on August 26th 2000 at La Chapelle, Saint-Jean,Mulhouse. Interesting interview with Butcher here and in this month's Wire...

And by way of a contrast: George Clinton and the Gang - 'Maggot Brain.' 'Mother Earth is pregnant for the third time.' Eddie Hazell on fine form here... Soaring electric elegance... Woot! Or something. Get down, y'all...


John Butcher/Xavier Charles/Axel Dorner
John Butcher (ts, ss) Xavier Charles (cl) Axel Dorner (t)
Pamplemousse
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George Clinton/Funkadelic
Eddie Hazel,Tawl Ross (g) Bernie Worrell (key) Billy Nelson (b) Tiki Fulwood (d) Parliament, Gary Shider, Bernie Worrell, Tawl Ross (v)
Maggot Brain
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Blogging lite...

Things have been sparse on the blog front, I'm afraid... illness and other chores - the usual combo. Today and over the coming weekend, I'm attending the Loughborough Folk Festival - some reviews/photos to follow, no doubt. I will try to get some of the usual uploads on site if possible. Wonder how the festival will turn out? Wall to wall folk music for three days... Ummm - as my old oft-repeated gag goes, I'm more Thurston Moore (or Brew Moore, come to think of it) than Christy Moore and the line-up looks pretty conservative. But there are a couple of acts I rather fancy and I want to check out the younger bands. Who knows, could be some surprises? We'll see - hey nonny... On with the Ghost Dance...

Clifford Thornton... George Lewis/Muhal RIchard Abrams/Roscoe Mitchell... Toshinori Kondo... Ornette Coleman

A great part of the fun involved in this type of blog is in attempting to write about disparate kinds of music, attempting to capture something of the essence of the track... An impossible task, perhaps – but, like I said, fun...

From the classic album 'The Panther and the Lash,' a long track: 'Huey is free' by Clifford Thornton and a band he put together in Paris for a live date in 1970. Thornton was a teacher, musician and political as well as musical radical who died in relative obscurity in Geneva, 1983, unusual because he doubled – succesfully – on trumpet and trombone. The album title refers to Langston Hughes' collection of poetry.

Opening on a swinging bass vamp before piano, drums and Thornton's muted trumpet come in. Removing the mute, he plays open horn in declamatory style. Held up by a boiling rhythm section – scampering piano from François Tusques, tough bass from Beb Guérin and powerhous drums from Noel McGhie. The pianist takes a hurtling solo, at full throttle. The bass steps up next, framed by rattling, insistent percussion from McGhie. Recorded in 1970, free jazz had come of age by now – here you have music that is open, fiery, passionate - yet linked by a strong cultural hawser to the traditions it came from. And one must remember the strong political undercurrents in coming fresh to this music – Thornton was banned from France for his alleged links to the Black Panthers and this track especially wears its colours proud and strong – Huey being Huey Newton... Right on... Be warned – this track cuts off sharply from the bass solo...

'You know, the idea that art has to have a political basis seems a little too much like preaching to other people about what they should be doing. On the other hand, seeing artists as political seems almost intrinsic because of what you have to go through to get art before the public, or to make a space in which it can be interpreted or understood, thought about or debated.' (From an interviewhere...).

The above quote comes from George Lewis – heard here as part of a recent trio of old hands – with plenty of surprises still up their collective sleeves. The politics are more 'intrinsic' perhaps... Muhal Richard Abrams, George Lewis and Roscoe Mitchell have put some time in and ranged far and wide – their main link, I suppose, in the public eye at least, being membership of the AACM:

'The Chicago musicians have used just about every instrument imaginable to explore all possible textures of sound rather than relationships of pitch and tonality.' (From p113, 'As Serious as your Life,' Val Wilmer).

They play: 'Streaming,' title track of the 2005 album. All the music was freely improvised and indeed explores 'all possible textures of sound.' Starts with sonorous bass pounding on piano soon joined by percussion and going into a swaying circle dance as electronics(?) twitter: a long and fascinating journey ensues. Mysterious noise/sounds cued from Lewis's laptop around the core of the piano's well-recorded sonorities – many of the sound sources are hard to place – extended technique or electronic? - as tinkering percussion – bells and small instruments in the main – colour the field being inscribed and expanded. Swooshs, scrapes, amplified breath pulses – a move from the identifiable keyboard sounds through a mysterious landscape to end on a soft repeating figure that goes out to silence. As Creeley had it: 'FORM IS NEVER MORE THAN AN EXTENSION OF CONTENT.' (Famously quoted by Charles Olson in 'Projective Verse.') 'There it is, brothers, sitting there for USE,' (ibid) as Olson goes on to gloss the statement. Lewis, Mitchell, Abrams: three figures of Outward, then...


Toshinori Kondo played with Brotzmann in his Die like a Dog band. Here he is, on imperious form, with a solo album – 'Fukyo.' Indeed. A good review of which here...
This is the longest track – 'Ungetsu,' clocking in at 6 minutes plus – most are short, sharp stabs of icy brilliance. Commencing on swooning, liquid figures as a gorgeous melody unfolds. Echoes of Electric Miles, perhaps - and Bill Dixon - if you want to hunt the influences - but very much his own man. Scattering off among a flock of echo/delay splinters. One of my favourite contemporary musicians who amply demonstrates (as George Lewis does) what electronics can add to improvised music – forget fusion (in the main)...

Stomping backwards to one of Ornette's best line-ups, pre-Prime Time- a three horn bust-out with Dewey Redman and Don Cherry, girdered by Charlie Haden as a very young Denardo learns the ropes. 'Space Jungle' from the hard-to-get album 'Crisis,' a recorded live in 1969 but not released until 1972, I believe. Fast, swirling, ecstatic, on a cold, wet day here in God's Little Acre, this lights fires in the heart and soul... Ornette is diamond-hard, cutting through the front-line as Redman roars gutbucket tenor underneath, Cherry is there somewhere (an echoey mix) and Denardo acquits himself surprisingly well... Haden rock solid, the booming heart of the band. Collective improvisation that references backwards - and forwards... Really the blues...


In the Videodrome...

Just came across this band and dig them mightily - Blues Control...

Muhal Richard A live last year...

George Lewis with Derek

The other George Lewis playing his classic 'Burgundy Street Blues.'

Roscoe Mitchell explores Sound and Space...

Ornette last year...


Clifford Thornton
Clifford Thornton (cor, shn, v-tb, p, maracas) François Tusques (p, cel, balafon, maracas)Beb Guérin (b) Noel McGhie (d, perc)
Huey is Free
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Muhal Richard Abrams (p, bell, bamboo fl, taxihorn, perc) George Lewis (tr, laptop)
Roscoe Mitchell (ss, as, perc)
Streaming
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Toshinori Kondo
(tr, electronics)
Ungetsu
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Ornette Coleman
Don Cherry (cor, Indian fl), Ornette Coleman (as, tp, vln), Dewey Redman (ts, cl),
Charlie Haden (b), Denardo Coleman (d)
Space Jungle
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