Will Mason Quartet - Hemlocks, Peacocks (New Focus Recordings, 2025) *****

By Stef Gijssels

I have been listening almost exclusively to this album over the last few weeks. It is wonderful. An incredibly creative, compelling and carefully crafted gem that transcends the boundaries of style and genre. The quartet are Will Mason - the leader and composer - on drums, Anna Webber on tenor, Daniel Fisher-Lochhead on alto, and deVon Russell Gray on keyboards. All seven tracks are carefully composed with room for improvisation. 

It is avant-garde classical music in its essence, exploring La Monte Young's tuning system from his "Well-Tuned Piano" classic from 1974. You can read more about La Monte Young's "Well-Tuned Piano" here or watch a performance here. I'll share two technical paragraphs from the liner notes to give the reader/listener an idea about the concept of the music and especially its strange sonic quality. 

"Mason’s exploration (...) began because of Young’s elegant solution to mapping just intonation onto the piano. Young’s 12-note scale omits the fifth harmonic, resulting in an absence of justly-tuned major (5:4) and minor (6:5) thirds. One way of approaching the resulting scale is as a pentatonic scale with several shadings available of each pitch; another would be to construct a scale out of the septimal major (9:7, 35 cents wider than an equal-tempered major third) and minor (7:6, 33 cents narrower than an equal-tempered minor third) thirds. Young’s keyboard layout makes both approaches fairly intuitive; some familiar hand shapes, like the perfect fifth or octave, typically sound like a perfect fifth or octave. By contrast, a span of a minor 9th might sound beautifully consonant, and a major second might produce shrill beating."

"In Hemlocks, Peacocks the just intonation tuning system of Young’s The Well Tuned Piano is set at two pitch levels on two separate keyboards, one rooted on C and the other on 436Hz (a slightly flat A). This allows for the use of the 5/4 just major third, which Young’s tuning system deliberately omitted. But it also allows for an array of clusters and shadings of pitches. Especially in the improvisational context of much of this music, this lends the keyboard a flexibility and expressivity that is not normally available to performers."

The result is a very accessible microtonal, polyrhythmic and polyphonic delight. Anna Webber is the perfect saxophonist in this context, equally interested in microtonal playing, she is at once very controlled when required and exuberant at other moments, breaking through the confines of classical music and adding a free jazz accent to the overall sound. I just give a quick impression on some tracks, but leave it to the reader to further explore. 

"Hemlocks", the opening track is available on video, and will let you enjoy here below. It sets the tone for the album's overall sound. 

"Hymn" is a long piece on the keyboards by deVon Russell Gray, with Mason adding percussive touches. The sound is off-center, yet gentle and eery at the same time. The minimalist keyboard touches resonate in the open space of the Cole Memorial Chapel in Norton, Massachusetts, were the album was recorded. 

"Turned in Fire", starts as a free jazz piece with its tenor and drums intro, brought back into harmonic order by the keyboards. It's one of the highlights of the album, with its increasing tempo and unexpected changes. "Planets" also starts with the seemingly very free intro by the two saxes and the drums, only to shift into a tender and fragile piece. 

"Peacocks", the track that ends the album is possibly the most composed, and it is of an incredible beauty, with a hypnotic rhythmic and the two saxes spiralling ever upward, and when the drumming gets more volume, they leave their patterned playing for more improvisational work, with an exceptional interaction between the two saxes. 

You can admire the technicalities of the harmonies, and the rhythms and the tuning of the instruments, but the only thing that actually counts is the quality of the music itself, its intensity, its emotional power, its atmospheric mysteriousness, its artistic vision, the listening experience ... and this album ticks all these boxes. 

If you like music, whatever your tastes, you should check it out. 

Listen and download from Bandcamp.

Watch a video of the recording of the first track. 

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Angharad Davies & Burkhard Beins -- Meshes of the Evening (Ni-Vu-Ni- Connu, 2025)

By Stuart Broomer

Since the release of Eight Duos, another LP of Beins’ duets has appeared, Meshes of the Evening with violinist Angharad Davies, recorded a year earlier at Ausland Berlin. The quality of concentrated attention and empathy is at the highest level throughout the two side-long duets, each a kind of mini-suite in which there are brief pauses between improvised movements” of varying length.

Side One, “Meshes 1”, proceeds as a kind of suite, with a shared attentiveness so profound that they might have had a conductor. The opening passage, some 4 ½ minutes, emphasizes high-pitched metallic tones, scraped, struck metal percussion and sustained upper-register violin pitches. The second passage emphasizes an assortment of mostly lower-pitched percussion that has something of the quality of a construction site, no jest or slight intended, just an on-going awareness that, if the right distance and perspective are applied, construction sites might yield sonic masterpieces, though very rarely this good. The third episode is marked by very high, whistling harmonics that involve both musicians (the listener’s temptation to ascribe much of it to the violin is corrected when the violin enters with a lower register melodic figure as the whistle continues).

Meshes 2 presents another episodic sequence, rich in unpredictability. Within its opening moments, Beins’ percussion gives the impression of a person drumming inside a large metal drum (the industrial kind), the sound muffled and set against the subtly inflected, repeated single tone of the violin. There are moments here when Davies might suggest a saw, Beins too, but an electric one, and there are times when, again, the constructivism seems literal, when the sounds of the duo seem like they might be literally building something, not an ethereal work of free improvisation but something as concrete as a wooden structure, say a cabin or a shed, art achieving the focused attention of unattended, practical activity (which, in a significant sense, it is). There are beautiful sequences here in which Davies sounds like she is wandering through a village under construction, yet one in which every cabin and garage is sentient, every hammer and wrench is sentient, inviting, supporting, engaging the wanderer. By the conclusion, the two musicians barely exist as independent entities, each part an immediate complement to the other, to the degree that effect and cause are simultaneous.

The two sides of the disc achieve a kind of ideal, a music that is both fully conscious of its parameters, peregrinations and potentialities and yet also suggests the possibilities of chance, an intense creativity that is somehow so casually practiced that listeners might feel themselves contributing something of its strange beauty, its complex and allusive organization, its genius that presents itself as common occurrence. An extraordinary recording.

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Burkhard Beins - Eight Duos (Ni-Vu-Ni-Connu, 2024)

By Stuart Broomer

This three-LP set is a dive into a substantial body of work – 1 hour, 57 minutes and 29 seconds – drawn from performances at Morphine Raum in Berlin in March and April 2023. Each of the eight duos is represented by a single track, ranging in length from 7:59 to 21:08. It might also be a dive into semantics, and how one might describe what Austrian percussionist and composer Burkhard Beins does. Yes, he’s a percussionist and, more so, an improviser, for here he ranges far afield, playing strings and electronics. If one were to suggest a similarly engaged musician, Eddie Prévost or the late Sven-Åke Johansson would immediately come to mind, and surely there might be more precise terms for what they do. A percussionist hits things and an improviser does things spontaneously as circumstances invite, suggest or require.

To distinguish, I prefer to think of Beins, Prévost and Johansson as materialists and relationists, artists working in the sonic qualities of material and relationships among sounds, both the ones they choose to make and those of others with whom they work. Perhaps an element of the metaphysical is also present, the interactive transformations of materiality and mind.

Beins has been in the vanguard of European improvised music since the mid-nineties when he joined the pioneering new music ensemble Polwechsel, a group that has now been integrating methodologies of composition and improvisation for over thirty years. In that time Beins has also collaborated with numerous other significant improvisers, including Johansson, Lotte Anker, John Butcher, Keith Rowe and Splitter Orchester.

Eight Duos is drawn from a series of performances in which Beins performed sets with two different musicians. Four of the duos will each fill a side of an LP, four others will split two sides.

That fascination with particular sounds and their interactions defines Beins’ approach here: for each of the duos he chose to play a different instrument or instruments or a selection of instruments from his drum kit, extending his usual range to include electric bass and a host of electronics, while his shifting partners engage a broad range of sound sources, from minimal to very dense. At times a radical minimalism arises; at other times the selection of instruments will be sufficiently mysterious to take on elements of musique concrète. For the concluding Transmission , Marta Zapparoli brings antennae, receivers and tape machines with Beins employing analog synthesizers, walkie talkies and samples, the two creating a robot universe of sound.

On a brief note on the Bandcamp page, Beins explains, “On a conceptual level, the idea was that I would play with different instruments or with a different set-up each time in order to present the breadth of my current work.” The broad range of that work is also apparent in the highly distinct collaborators with whom he works here.

The first collaboration, Expansion (19’55”), is an exercise in a radical minimalism, with Andrea Neumann employing the inside of a piano and a mixing board, Beins restricting himself to an amplified cymbal and a bass drum. It’s a work of subtle minimalism, many of the sounds are not immediately attributable, whether scraped or struck metal, wood or even the shell of a drum; at the same time, the variety and breadth of sounds can suggest a group much larger than a duo. Complex, rhythmic phrases emerge, literally linear, but distributed between the instruments’ remixed sounds, rendering the acoustic, electronic and altered materials at times indistinguishable. A continuous melody emerges, sounding like it might be coming from a power tool. The work – sometimes stark, sometimes dense – possesses a durable mystery, arising between the amplified and the acoustic, the scraped, the tuned and the broad, ambiguous vocabularies of action.

The two shorter pieces of LP 1, side B, are studies in contrast, featuring the most radically reduced instrumentation and the most dense of the acoustic performances. Extraction (7'53”) has Michael Renkel credited with playing strings and percussion, Beins percussion and strings. Renkel’s strings consist of a zither and a string stretched across cardboard, Beins is apparently playing an acoustic guitar and other percussion instruments.

It's engaging continuous music with a delicate dissonance that reflects a long-standing collaboration. In 2020 Renkel and Beins released a 19-minute digital album entitled Delay 1989, recorded 31 years before, each playing numerous instruments.

Excursion, with Quentin Tolimieri playing grand piano and Beins engaging his drum kit, is at the opposite end of the sound spectrum, substantial instruments played with significant force. Tolimieri is an insistently rhythmic pianist, beginning with rapid runs and driven clusters and chords, moving increasingly to repeated and forceful iterations of single chords, combining with Beins’ fluid drumming across his kit and cymbals in a powerful statement that approaches factory-strength free jazz.

LP2, Side A is similarly subdivided. Unleash has Andrea Ermke on mini discs and samples with Beins on analog synthesizers and samples. Shifting, continuous, liquid sounds predominate, suggesting an improvisatory art that is literally environmental (traffic flowing over a bridge perhaps). Here there are prominent bird sounds as well, further drawing one into this elemental world of mini-discs and samples, a natural world formed, however, entirely in its relationships to technology. A door shuts… then a silence… then the piece resumes: bells, struck metal percussion, rustling paper, air, muffled conversation…

Unfold returns to the world of the grand piano and drum kit with pianist Anaïs Tuerlinckx joining Beins in yet another dimension, echoing isolated tones from prepared piano and scratched strings returning us to another zone of the ambiguated world initially introduced with Expansion and Andrea Neumann, though here there’s the suggestion of glass chimes along with the whistling highs from rubbed and plucked upper-register strings, matched as well with muted roars and uncertain grinds.

Unlock, LP2, Side B, initiating a series of three extended works, presents a duet with trumpeter Axel Dörner in which Beins plays snare drums and objects. It may be the most intense experience of music as interiority here. If the trumpet has a mythological lineage back to the walls of Jericho, Dörner’s approach is the antithesis of that tradition, focussed instead on the instrument’s secret voices, at times here suggesting tiny birds, recently hatched and discreetly testing their untried voices. Beins restricts himself to snare drum and objects, often exploring light rustles, as if the snare is merely being switched on and off. Sometimes there are lower-pitched grinding noises, any attribution here unsure. Sometimes it feels like the sounds of packing up, so quietly executed it might be impossible. When the piece ends, one is willing to keep listening. Trumpet? Snare drum? It feels like air and feathers.

The two side-length works that occupy the third LP find Beins leaving his percussion instruments behind. Transformation, with Tony Elieh, has both musicians playing electric basses and electronics, generating feedback and exploring string techniques that complement and expand the subtle explorations of the bass guitars’ continuing walls of droning feedback with whistling harmonics and burbling rhythmic patterns. There’s a sustained passage in which bright, bell-like highs and shifting pitches float over a continuous rhythmic pattern from one of the electric basses, further illumined by bright high-frequencies, only to conclude with low-pitched interference patterns and bass strings that can suggest the echoing hollow of a tabla drum amid droning electronics and querulous rising and falling pitch bends, until concluding on an ambiguous sound and a continuous rhythmic pattern.

The final Transmission is a wholly electronic, layered collage with Marta Zapparoli using antennas, receivers and tape machines, and Beins employing analog synthesizers, walkie talkies and samples. Each sound source seems fundamentally complex – echo, the hiss of static, the semi-lost sound seeping through interference, a factory enjoying itself on its own time, blurring voices of the human intruders until it suggests the voices of distant generals muffled into the meaningless, suggesting invitation into the work’s own dreams, its feedback modulations hinting at travel into deep space, a world of echoes, percussion evident as isolated crackle. It’s the sound of an alternate experience, the acoustic world disappearing into the alien beauty of technology’s sonic detritus.

Start anywhere, with any track. The music will transcend the inevitable linearity of its presentation. Can two people make that much music out of so little? Can two people make and manage that sheer quantity of sound. The works await.

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Isaiah Collier & The Chosen Few - A Love Supreme at 60

A few weeks ago at Los Angeles’ long-running Grand Performances concert series, saxophonist Isaiah Collier led a performance of John Coltrane’s A Love Supreme, joined by Brandon Coleman on piano, William Parker on bass, and Tim Regis on drums. The event included a sound healing ceremony by Jimmy Chan, an introduction by Michelle Coltrane, and sets by Jimetta Rose & The Voices of Creation, Surya Botofasina, Dwight Trible, and Jeremy Sole (KCRW) and was presented by Worlds Alive x The John & Alice Coltrane Home.

Here, we're start with Isaiah Collier & The Chosen Few's ‘Lift Every Voice and Sing’ followed by ‘A Love Supreme.’ To see the rest, simply 'rewind.'

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Silvia Bolognesi & Eric Mingus - Is That Jazz? (Fonterossa Records, 2025)

By Sammy Stein

Is That Jazz? is dedicated to the music of Gil Scott-Heron.

Bass supremo, composer and teacher, Silvia Bolognesi, heads up an impressive ensemble curated from Sienna’s Jazz Academy. It includes Noemi Fiorucci and Lusine Sargsyan on vocals, Emanuele Marsico on trumpet and vocals, Isabel Simon Quintanar on tenor sax, Andrea Glockner on trombone, Gianni Franchi on guitar, Santiago Fernandez on piano, Peewee Durante on keyboards, Matteo Stefani on drums and Simone Padovani on percussion with Bolognesi on double bass – her sound weaving forming a continuum throughout.

Putting this talented ensemble with the impressive vocalist and poet Eric Mingus is genius. Mingus is well known on the American scene and brings his huge voice and talent to this album, interpreting Scott-Heron’s music with his unique take. Mingus brings his presence to the ensemble, his reputation as a protagonist and established upholder of the African American traditions is well established. Like his father, the legendary Charles Mingus, Eric Mingus originally played ‘cello before switching to double bass, but he is a multi-instrumentalist, composer, poet, and vocalist with classical and jazz training. Improvisation and creating worlds within worlds with poetry and voice are his specialties. He has collaborated with Hal Willner, Hubert Sumlin, and Elliott Sharp, among others, and composed soundtracks for documentaries.

Bolognesi is known for being a bass player for the Art Ensemble of Chicago and often plays in the States, but she remains a passionate teacher at Siena Jazz and in conservatories. Her ensemble may be fresh, but their talent is controlled and toned by this leader, whose bass is a constant voice, maintaining the tempo.

The album is a revelation because Scott-Heron (1949 -2011) never conformed to genre boxes and often gets overlooked. He was considered the forerunner of hip-hop and jazz rap, infusing jazz and blues with rap and politically charged lyrics.

The album is divided into five parts (including the encore), intended to be played continuously, yet it can be created into fourteen tracks.

While Mingus is the main vocal interpreter, the other voices, playing the role of chorus and counterpoint, also have a space as protagonists, and each vocalist is given a chance to shine. The arrangements leave places for improvisation and conduction, the method of collective improvisation developed by Lawrence ‘Butch’ Morris of which Bolognesi is an expert.

The beauty and ability to involve and excite Scott Heron's compositions, the often compelling rhythms and above all the quality of Mingus' voice, capable of interpreting, with rough and scratchy sounds, moving sweetness or powerful aggression go perfectly with Scott-Heron’s style and in many places his interpretive vocals serve to emphasise the importance of the lyrics.

“The idea of a project dedicated to Gil Scott Heron came to the Artistic Director of Siena Jazz, Lacopo Guidi, for the festival in collaboration with the Accademia Chigiana dedicated to the “word” (Parola) and poetry, in which he wanted to pay homage to an African American poet,” says Bolognesi.

“Knowing the musical universes in which I move and my relationship with Chicago (where Scott-Heron was from originally), Guidi identified me as the musician who could best realize a project. I immediately threw myself into it, agreeing with him on some things and then remaining free regarding the repertoire and its arrangement. At the Accademia Chigiana Festival, the voice was entrusted to Michael Mayo, but knowing that there would be a sequel, I contacted Eric, who immediately declared himself interested, partly because he is not only a singer, but also a poet; partly because, although he had approached Scott Heron's music several times, he had never tackled it live, apart from a performance of ‘The Revolution Will Not Be Televised’, which is probably his best-known song. Unfortunately, the topics discussed in Gil Scott-Heron’s lyrics are still relevant today.”

‘Revolution Will Not Be Televised’ appears at the beginning of each part of the album and its first appearance has the feel of a Swamp Dogg sound, with Mingus’ lyrics apologising to Gil (Scott- Heron) for the fact that many issues he warned of in his lyrics are still relevant today, and we have not improved things. The crazily patterned ‘Madison Avenue’ includes Mingus, the ensemble over Scott-Heron’s Lyrics, the track taking a different direction from Scott-Heron and Jackson’s original, with interesting harmonies that weave alongside the beautifully worked instrumental arrangement.

The version of ‘The Revolution Will Not Be Televised’ that opens Part Two begins with the ensemble at full throttle, before Mingus’s lyrics come in, foretelling how things could change. The music morphs into a jazz track with a superb solo from Bolognesi’s bass, speaking in its sonorous voice. The fact that it is in the same range as Mingus complements beautifully.

‘Shut ‘Em Down/Conduction Movement’ is a standout track, featuring conduction where improvisation blends with elements of jazz and contemporary classical music. On this track, the music is enhanced by Mingus’s vocals, Emanuele Marsico’s intuitive backing vocals and scat solo, and trumpet. This track is powerful, rhythmic, and undeniably groovy. The final phrases see the ensemble instigate a free playing take on the rhythm, propelling the number skyward.

‘1980 Impro Version’ is a treat for the ears as Mingus’s words flow across the instrumental lines like balm, ‘The fools will have to fend for themselves’ he sings, followed by growly falsetto improvisation that works a treat.

‘Home Is Where the Hatred Is,” is based on the arrangement by Pee Wee Ellis in the version by Ester Phillips and features the trumpet of Marsico and the rich, warm vocals of Lusine Sargsyan with Bolognesi’s bass in a textured, colourful version. It is unsettling, as the uplifting, gentle rhythms of the track belie its origins as a number about the perils of drug addiction. Heron’s words “A junkie walking through the twilight, I’m on my way home, I left three days ago but no one seems to know I’m gone,” are lost in the prettified arrangement here.

‘The Prisoner’ is an emotive, achingly beautiful track, enhanced by the bass’s deep voice that permeates and contrasts with the sensual singing of Mingus. The words here are clear, powerful, and Mingus uses his vocal techniques to drive them deep into the listener’s soul. As powerful as ‘Strange Fruit’ in its day, the words strike into the heart,

‘Black babies in the womb are shackled and bound,

Chained by the caveman who keeps beauty down,

Smacked on the ass when they’re squalling and wet,

Heir to a spineless man who never forgets,

Never forgets he’s a prisoner; can’t you hear my plea?

‘Cos I need someone, Lord knows, to listen to me…….

Ain't no wonder sometimes, near morning, I hear my woman cry

She knows her man is a prisoner . Won't you hear my plea?

 Yeah, ‘cos I need somebody, woah, to listen to me

Mingus excels on this track, driving the words home over powerful free-flowing arrangements.

‘Lady Day and John Coltrane’ is glorious with an adventurous guitar solo from Franchi and delightful vocals from Fiorucci artfully emphasising the essence of the number, which is that you can find solace from trouble in the music of Holiday and Coltrane.

‘We Almost Lost Detroit’ is beautiful and sad, with amazing vocals from Mingus, “Gil was sending out a warning, calling it down, almost lost Detroit,” he growls.

‘New York is Killing Me’ is wonderfully rhythmic. Impossibly deep, growly vocals over strings that sound remarkably like a 3-string box guitar.

There is so much going on in this music, from the glorious vocals of Mingus, perfectly suited to this music as he brings understanding of the history and meaning of Scott-Heron's words, to the talent shown in the ensemble, and of course, Bolognesi’s double bass.

It is one of those recordings where so much is going on that even with the ensemble’s unique twist on some of the numbers, it remains, like Heron’s music, unclassifiable and traversing genres, often blending them. From free playing, improvised phrasing, to regimented, predictable passages, the album proves an interesting and engaging listen.

To quote from Bolognesi, quoting Albert Ayler, who said, “music is a healing force of the universe. But to do so, it must excite, and in this album, the emotions are all there.” This music definitely excites.

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Stefan Keune / Sandy Ewen / Damon Smith- Two Felt-Tip Pens: Live At Moers (Balance Point Acoustics, 2025)

By Martin Schray

Stefan Keune’s latest trio with guitarist Sandy Ewen and bassist Damon Smith, with whom he performed at the Moers Festival 2023, is dedicated to his friend and long-time musical collaborator, bassist Hans Schneider. On the inside cover of the CD there’s a poem by Jean-Hervé Péron, a member of Krautrock legend Faust, who organizes the festival stage in Moers. At first glance, “Thoughts of the Dead” seems to be a tribute to the late bassist, but according to Damon Smith, it was actually pure coincidence: “I asked Jean-Hervé Péron since he was there. I said it could be something he had already written and he sent that. I wanted the writing to be more like cover art, picking someone that has some kind of resonance and not just a blow by blow. It is a total coincidence that it is about death.” The cover, on the other hand, has an actual connection to Schneider. ”When it became clear that the recordings would be released, I asked Hans to do a drawing for the cover. He always painted and also designed record covers. Hans then made the picture for the cover pretty quickly, for which I’ve been very grateful”, says Stefan Keune. The full title of the drawing, “Two Felt-Tip Pens, Cream, Butter, Oil, Red Wine, And Salt On Paper“, also explains the naming of the individual tracks on the recording. According to Keune, the picture might be the last piece of art Schneider ever did. So, for the saxophonist, the music on this album is both a musical dedication and a tribute to a friend and musical companion.

But what is more, Two Felt Tip Pens:Live at Moers is simply excellent free improvised chamber music. “Cream“, the first and longest piece on the album, begins with a jolt, as if the instruments and their players were shaken awake. But they don’t react with surprise, astonishment, or slow awakening, but with energy. Keune’s saxophone chirps indignantly, Smith’s bass warps notes to the extreme, and Ewen’s guitar sounds more like a rumbling percussion instrument. It’s as if everyone is running around confused, bumping into each other, and then ricocheting in different directions. This intense compression lasts for about five minutes, then there are more pauses, and the improvisation relaxes. This pattern, the alternation between compression and expansion, dominates the music of this trio, with the instruments forming various alliances. Sometimes the bass and guitar seem to be interwoven, then again the saxophone and guitar. In the expansive phases, it is the quiet moments that determine the improvisational action, for example in “Sand“, the closing track, which ends with the most beautiful drone. In general, listening to the dynamics created by this trio is the greatest pleasure.

Transforming the reality of our inevitable transience into a joyful experience through improvisation is perhaps the most important task of music. Transforming failure and the perpetual new beginning as an individual and collective destiny in such a way that it gives players and listeners a feeling of perfection and wholeness, even if only as an illusion and for the moment, is something that even the most rationalized music market cannot offer. It requires a different logic and a different place. The recently deceased former dramaturge of the Berlin Volksbühne, Carl Hegemann, expressed something similar - albeit in relation to theater. These words contain a beautiful utopia, and in these uncertain times, one would like nothing more than to believe in it. When I listen to this trio, everything about it feels true.

Two Felt-Tip Pens: Live At Moers is available as a CD and a download.

You can listen to it and buy it here:
 

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Moers Festival 2025 (Part 2)

Photos by Author

By Paul Acquaro

 

This is the second part of the coverage of the 2025 Moers Festival. The first can be read here. 

 

Sunday, June 1

 

Sunday morning continued with some bizarre weather. Light, quick drying long pants that could become shorts, a t-shirt, a long-sleeved over-shirt, Gore-Tex lined sneakers, plus umbrella and rain jacket seemed like the minimal gear required to go outside and enjoy some music. First stop, the smaller "Traktor" stage set on a corner the festival's market square. 

 

Mark Holub, Charlotte Keefe, Ashley John Long, Meinrad Kneer, and Evi Fillipou

Already lining the stage was a hard core group of similarly equipped attendees waiting patiently under the piercing sun, stormy clouds, sudden downpours and only slightly annoying drizzle for "Freysinn #6" to start. Clutching coffees and shielding precious smartphones, the early-birds scrunched in as close as they could to be under the stage's cover as drummer Mark Holub, trumpeter Charlotte Keefe, bassists Meinrad Kneer and Ashley John Long, and vibraphonist Evi Fillipou worked out the kinks in the sound with the technical crew. Once everything was in order, they began their set and the sun suddenly appeared as the two swirling basses solidified around Fillipou's uptempo figure and Keefe's lithe blips. Both energetic and exploratory at times, the collection of British, German and American musicians provided a lovely wake up concert under unsure skies.

 

A quick shuffle into town was up next. Through the park, past the sloping 'Rodelberg' field that previous years' attendees were lamenting was not being used this year, past the leafy mature trees and many water fowl, past the old castle, into a cafe for a to-go coffee, and finally to a small hair salon in the old city, to hear a solo set from Lao Dan. 

 

Outside the salon, in the rain, on the otherwise normally quiet Sunday morning street, a small crowd had gathered around a frog playing saxophone. At least it may have been a frog. Two characters, a princess carrying a long listening tube and her frog, who was now playing saxophone, had been popping up at and between different locations interacting with festival goers and introducing events.

 

Lao Dan

Eventually, the action moved inside the crammed salon as Lao Dan began his solo set with a full-on saxophone pummeling. Moving about the small space that the audience had cleared in the middle of the salon, Lao Dan segued from the initial eruption to a lovely melody on a flute that he pulled from his back pocket. Circular breathing techniques underscored the flowing meditative melody. Then, switching back to the sax, the clacking of the keys provided a percussive effect to a softly sung melody, whose words - if they were in fact words - were lost on me. The short set ended with a final power blast of saxophone. 

 

Back now at the main festival site, the next moers sessions! was about to begin. Again, these were sets curated and officiated by saxophonist Jan Klare that were occurring throughout the festival - and as I had learned over the past two days, they were proving to be one of the festival's highlights.

 

The first of the three sets featured saxophonist Pete Grogan and Tim von Malotki, guitarist Jasper Stadhouders, bassist Liran Donin, and drummer Konrad Matheus, who launched into an updated 70s electric Miles Davis form of free-jazz, a collective whirlpool of sound underpinned by electronic beats and tight pulsating drumming. The saxophones buzzed and the energy built over dark rumbling bass and lightly abrasive guitar work. There were echoes of a dub as the group dug into some rock beats and swirling dark magic tones. 

 

Then, back to town. Skipping out on what were likely excellent follow up sets, it was back through the park to the old town hall building across the cobblestone street from the medieval castle. Willi Kellers, Bart Maris, and Hans Peter Hiby were playing alongside narrator Joachim Henn, who was performing the works of cabaret and satire writer Hanns Dieter Hüsch. The writer, born in the Netherlands, lived as a young man in Moers, and the city is celebrating his centennial this year.

Joachim Henn, Hans Peter Hiby, Willi Kellers and Bart Maris

The music was fantastic. As mentioned previously, Maris, artist-in-residence, has been involved more with the education programs and organizing than performing on the main stages. Thus, this was a nice opportunity to hear him with the scorching Hiby and multi-faceted Kellers, as the three interjected short improvisations in between Henn's artful narrations. While the words in German were difficult to grasp for me, the many native speakers in the audience seemed rather delighted, and the music erupted spontaneously each time, controlled but electrifying. 

 

Led Bib

The afternoon segued into the evening at the open air stage where the UK's Led Bib introduced their current sound - a quick stroll through their back catalog seemed to suggest an evolving approach over their over 20 years of playing together. The quartet of drummer Mark Holub, saxophonists Chris Williams and Pete Grogan as well as bassist Liran Donin approached the set with patience and gravity, the songs were slow, based on complex rock beats with tinges of North African modalities. The baritone saxes' effects created a lush, reverb drenched atmosphere and an early electric bass solo featured an earthy, gut stringed gimbri-like tone. The song meandered a bit before finally building to a climatic jazz-rock end, which was generally how the set proceeded. The encore piece revealed a different side of the band, short and punchy, the energetic tune left the audience buzzing.

 

At this point, I was seeking a time-out in order to let the all the sounds swirling in my head settle down. A cup of coffee seemed like a fine way to begin this moment of mindfulness, which of course meant that there were a bunch of other events happening between the festival grounds and town that proceeded without me. Such are the sacrifices we must make. 

 

Haydon Chisholm's Kinetic Chain

The next two concerts in the main hall featured an enticing set of high profile musicians. First was New Zealander (but Europe based) saxophonist Haydon Chisholm's crack band featuring pianist Achim Kaufman, bassist Petter Eldh and drummer Jonas Burgwinkel, all of who are often associated with more experimental music, but in Kinetic Chain they help Chisholm deliver a meditative modern jazz journey. The performance was a thoughtfully balanced set of compositions that featured restraint and mood over velocity, but let the players all bring something unique to the stage. 

 

Angelica Sanchez

The second concert was a solo set by American pianist Angelica Sanchez who offered a rich presentation of thorny passages and light melodic interludes. From rather a ruminative, un-jazzy start to sharp, angular attacks and lush chord voicings, the set fluctuated quickly and decisively. 

 

Caspar Brötzmann on scissor lift

While the evening of music was not over, it seemed like the world might be. Outside the hall, lifted above the festival grounds, Caspar Brötzmann was flattening the landscape with a solo bass set from the scissor lift. Turned up to 11 (in Spinal Tap terms), the bassist let loose a fury of deep, gut shaking sound from above. While the music was more expressionistic than melodic, intentionally or not, phrases of the Modern Jazz Quartet's tune 'Django' seemed to be woven perfectly into the sound fabric.

  

The final act of the evening at the main hall was a percussion oriented composition from Koshiro Hino. Bringing the piece to life was Ken Furudate on electronics, Masayoshi Fujita on vibraphone, marimba, and percussion, Tsuyoshi Maeda on taiko drums and percussion and Kanna Taniguchi on vibraphone and percussion. That was indeed a lot of percussion on stage, producing whooshing drones and marching band-like cadences alike. The composition felt quite modular with sections following each other, and use of the mallet instruments in creative and traditional ways to add splashes of melody and texture.

Monday

 

Monday began with a press event and ended with a Massaker. Starting with the press, Tim Isfort, musician, composer, long time Moers resident and director of the festival since 2017, addressed a small group of reporters and writers in the ice rink. Under his leadership, the festival has developed its signature multi-discipline, post-structural thematic approach, resulting in a dense thicket of music, time sensitive discussion topics and some good-natured chaos.

 

A pressing topic in recent years has been funding, and in reaction to tightening budgets, Isfort has been exploring new ways to support the festival. This year, a new ticket pricing structure based on what they called the "Pay What You Want" solidarity principle was introduced. As I understand it, the idea is to make attending the festival more affordable and grow the audience for Moers. So, along with the children activities and stages, the open market square that offers free concerts to the public, and the many events that happen in the downtown, which are also free to attend, there are many ways for people to participate and - hopefully - pay more over time.

 

The highlight of the press conference came however when Isfort was not asked about tickets, pricing or funding but rather about the precise locating of the "Traktor Stage." The director was nonplussed and answered the question at the level of soil density and permitting.

 

Ok so now, a Massaker was promised, and we will get to it soon enough, but let us first wander past the food trucks, past the kids activities and down to the open air stage to the next moers session!

 

moers session!

It was a quiet start to the set from laptop artist Tan Shuoxin, violist Matthias Kaiser, bassist Meinrad Kneer, and a percussionist whose name I did not catch. The long, moaning bass tones, the viola's gentle plucked notes with the electric buzz of the electronics and percussion revealed a minimalist heartbeat, making ripples like water-skating insects on a still lake. The second set with pianist Simon Rummel, trumpeter Charlotte Keefe, saxophonist Hans Peter Hiby and drummer Andy Hafner was quite a contrast to the previous. Hiby played a forceful, though reserved line while Keefe concentrated on her mouthpiece before plugging it into her trumpet, while the piano provided stabbing chords along with the vigorous drumming. The horns spared with each other, finding ways to compliment and compete, while the piano set the overall tone. This was rapturous music, always ready to explore, and always steeping back just in time to keep the tension rising.

 

Another set was scheduled to start up at the "Traktor Stage," yes, the very one whose position was hotly discussed at today's press talk. The start was delayed though perhaps by the giant fly whose enervating buzz was being broadcast over the festival ground loudspeakers. The 15-foot long fly was afloat over the festival marketplace, doing its best to annoy giant puppet man. The piece, Der Kasper schlägt die Fliegen tot (Caspar kills the flies) was puppetry maximus, a tale of "a gigantic musical fight for survival" at a monstrous scale. 

 

At this point, it seems that the scheduling got a little loose, or my sense of it did at least, and the experience became a kaleidoscopic mix of sounds, foods (the kimchi + bbq burrito was a fantastic discovery), and more sounds. It seemed that Caspar Brötzmann had enjoyed the previous evenings solo flight over the festival grounds so much that he did it again, this time a full-volume thumping of the general festival goers, and an obvious surprise to those who were clasping their ears and accelerating their pace. Another fun surprise was the ska band Butterwegge, who leaned hard on peppy horn arrangements and spouted uplifting, inclusive lyrics. The band amassed an almost pogo-ing audience.

 

Vijay Iyer and Wadada Leo Smith

Eventually, all roads taken led to headliners Vijay Iyer and Wadada Leo Smith, who in the main hall were presenting their music from the ECM recording Defiant Life. Iyer sat behind a Fender Rhodes with a couple smaller electric keyboards placed on top, a grand piano flanked him. He began on the piano playing a gentle trickle of high notes with one hand and a deep bass rumble with the other. Smith cycled through some grittier tones and let out a sharp blast. Iyer pivoted to Rhodes and let some clear tones ring out. A persistent drone came from one of the small electronics as the two played slow, opened ended phrases, with sometimes a bit of hesitation. The performance very true to the recording, which itself is pensive, probing, tense and at times defiant. Smith added at the end of the riveting set, " Defiant Life is dedicated to young people, who can make the world beautiful, the world we old people messed up." If there was a set that captured the spirit of Stille best, this was it. The underlying tensions of the music were magnified by the reflective space within it, leaving the audience at once satisfied but also a bit unsettled. 

 

Caspar Brötzmann's Massaker

And finally, the Massaker. The closing set of the festival was Caspar Brötzmann's power trio. After two stints rattling the festival grounds (and presumably all within a few surrounding kilometers) from above with his bass, Brötzmann, now with guitar in hand, hit the stage of the main hall with drummer Saskia von Klitzing and bassist Eduardo Delgado Lopez. The group was loud but through the primal drones, deep plodding riffs and thrilling feedback laden solos, the song structures still poked through. A stiff night cap to help close the festival. 

 

. .. and in the end...

 

When I first encountered the term "Stille" as the theme for the festival, I wondered how could this be applied to such a multifaceted event? Now, after four days living in the "Unimoresum" (their term), it seems that the word at face value is less valuable than what it represents and when considered across the many dimensions of the festival, it becomes something other than itself. I began to think of it is as reflection, those moments when I stepped away from the music and other festivities and enjoyed the atmosphere, the chance encounters and the unusual ideas (probably as much was left out of this write-up as made it). So, this stille makes up the moments in between the actions and events. So, between the music, the political discussions, and of course all of the other activities, the real experience comes when you take a chance reflect on what it means to you. It does not, however, take make much reflection to say, hope to see you at the 55th edition!

 

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Moers Festival 2025 (Part 1)

Photos by author, unless otherwise indicated.

By Paul Acquaro 

 

(Controlled) chaos is a feature of the Moers Festival. After spending the Pentecost holiday weekend wandering, encountering, and enjoying the unpredictability, I have to say: I came to quite like it. 

 

Everywhere one looked, there was something new to see, hear and experience. The festival grounds featured food trucks and hippie clothing as well as children's stages and pop-up stages. The musical foci were dizzying: from an emphasis on Japanese and African musicians, to a delegation of two distinct sets of musicians from China, as well as a collaboration with the Huddersfield Contemporary Music Festival (hcmf//), a/k/a the UK’s largest international festival of new and experimental music, as well as a range of performers from Angelica Sanchez to Wadada Leo Smith. Featured in stand-alone shows or in new configurations, the players came together on the various stages, ranging from both indoor and outdoor large stages, to smaller ones in the festival's market square, like the moveable Japanese inspired paper walled construct Club Jazz Byobu, the piano-mobile that crawled between the festival grounds and city, cafes in the city center, and even a set of scissor and boom construction lifts that raised performers 50 feet above the festival grounds. 

 

Add to this creative mayhem the festival's current motto 'Stille' ('still,' as in quiet, peaceful, tranquil, silence) and the lively party gets even more surreal. What could that possibly mean amidst the hustle and bustle of the fairgrounds? How does such a theme align with Caspar Brötzmann's bass-led aerial assault at 11 p.m. from the raised platform? Sure, it could be easily linked with the reductionist music of the Zhao Cong, Zhu Wenbo and Sun Yizhou, but what about the sonic blasts of Lao Dan or heart-stopping stomps of Marmar? One can simply cast aside a festival theme, often they are easily expendable; however, there was something to this idea, which at once seemed to be in opposition to an experimental music festival, but also carried a certain resonance, but we can come back to this later.

 

It is often tempting to write about a festival as a series of musical sets, easily discernible from each other, but when faced with the perplexity of Moers, the experience becomes something more fluid, something you need to figure out yourself. One must take out the playful looking program and chart a path as best they can and then embrace the adventure. Let's do exactly this...

Friday, Day 1

 

Arriving in Moers on Friday afternoon, the shuttle bus from the train station offered a chance encounter with the group from Shenzhen, China. Dedicated to creating and fostering a creative music scene in their city, they run Old Heaven Books, a book shop, record label and cafe, the B10 Live music space, as well as organize the OCT-LOFT and Tomorrow music festivals. Free-jazz saxophonist Lao Dan was also onboard. Having recently acquired his new solo recording To Hit a Pressure Point (Relative Pitch Records, 2025), I was looking forward to hearing him play. So, only a few minutes in the city and it already seemed like a promising start to the weekend. 

 

Actually, it took a little while to get oriented. The festival - in what I learned was in a slightly new configuration - was set up generally around a large recreation park with an event hall, an ice rink and a huge water slide and swimming pool (if it had only been a bit warmer...). The aforementioned festival grounds were essentially a market with a selection of food trucks and clothing vendors and open to all, as were several of the smaller stages. Inside the main hall were two record vendors with an ever tempting selection of wares. Off to one side of the fair grounds, the open air stage, and a 20-minute walk through the adjacent city park got one into the old city of Moers where another series of events always seemed to be happening. The choice overload was nearly paralyzing, but somehow I fought my way to a decision and made my way to the open-air stage where Spinifex was set to perform. 

 

Spinifex Maxximus

This year is the Netherlands based group's 20th anniversary. The core players are main composer and alto saxophonist Tobias Klein , along with Moers artist-in-residence and trumpeter Bart Maris , saxophonist John Dikeman, guitarist Jasper Stadhouders , bassist Goncalo Almeida and drummer Philipp Moser . For a series of concerts during this China Anniversary year, they have added violist Jessica Pavone, cellist Elisabeth Coudoux and vibraphonist Evi Filippou, resulting in their manifestation as Spinifex Maxximus.

 

The show was a perfect musical start to the festival. The big group had a correspondingly big sound, with a fire breather like Dikeman on baritone sax and the facile playing of Almeida on electric bass, that would seem to be unavoidable. They launched with a heavy riff over which a free group improv ensued. Melodies with complimenting counter harmonies developed, the lines weaving between the different players, belying a great deal of compositional work too. In a later tune, Pavone led the group with a quasi-classical melody, which then sequenced into passage with Stadhouser and Fillipou exchanging fierce lines that were as much free-jazz as Appalachian folk. Vacillating between hard landing riffs and spritely arranged horn passages, the set was a great chance to also hear Maris play, who although he was the artist-in-residence, was more involved with children programs and activities surrounding the festival than featured in concert. 

 

Jonas Gerigk and Ying Yang

After the set, there seemed to be a long break before the next concert. After wandering about the festival market place, I stumbled on the 'Traktor Stage' where a "Freysinn" set, one of 12 musician organized concerts of the festival, was happening. This one was with with bassist Jonas Gerigk and violinist Ying Yang , two young music students from Koeln. Shortly afterwards, a pianist was playing "Ueber'm Platz," which was one of the platforms that hoisted the musicians over the festival grounds.

 

Darius Held on the scissor lift. Phpt

Exciting in concept, however pianist Darius Held's minimalist solo performance was rather inaudible and the spectacle of the raised stage wore off soon enough (something to do with that the musicians having to wear a safety vest somehow detracted from the experience - I know, safety first). What I didn't realize is that while I was bumbling about the fairground, a (reportedly) excellent set was playing out under the guise of the "moers sessions!" at the larger outdoor stage, while a collection of British musicians from the Huddersfeld Festival contingent were quietly taking-over the downtown spaces, a couple of kilometers away. 

 

By the time for what I had erroneously considered the next concert, darkness had enveloped the festival and in the cozy night-time mood surrounding the open air stage. Marmar, a sound-world creator who blends traditional Kazakh folk music with modern experimental sounds, was about to go on. 

 

Marmar. Photo by Dennis Hoeren

The blast of sound from the stage was not unexpected, but it certainly did shatter the stillness. From under an eerie green glow on the stage, the surgical mask covered face of Marmar peeked out from under a hooded sweatshirt. He held an electric bass in hand and stood before an electronics bedecked table. A massive, throbbing sound emanating from the cloaked figure as he tweaked devices on the table. Feedback and deep guttural whispers shook the dirt and made ripples in the sky. It was a bit frightening, but it was also magnetic. Off to my side, I noticed Lao Dan and made a gesture to him in which I tried to express that the music was slowly unscrewing my face but I was okay with this effect. I'm not sure what he actually understood of this.

Saturday, Day 2

 

Starting today, I wasn't going to miss a thing, I wouldn't waste a beat, and so after breakfast, I began a trek into the city to see what was happening on the other side of the festival. 

 

Getting across the city park and old "Schloss Park", a landscaped garden full of beautiful mature trees and a flowing stream, took about 15 minutes or longer if one took a moment to check out the skate-park or the birds gathered along the stream banks. On the other side, past the medieval castle that once anchored the city in the 12th century, past the stately 19th century Renaissance style former town hall, and the Evangelical Church building dating from the mid 15th century, at the small nick-nack gift shop 'Villa Woelkchen' (Little Cloud Villa), Zhao Cong, from the group of musicians from Beijing , was performing a solo piece on "objects."

 

Zhao Cong

A perfect setting really. Small Christmas tree ornaments and porcelain curios lined the precisely and densely packed display shelves, while Cong was in the middle, her table set up with a mixer, a stainless steel cup with water, an array of little objects and many contact mics. This was her sound laboratory for the moment, and the small store was soon packed with curious onlookers. Cong blew up a balloon and when it popped confetti rained down. She placed an effervescent tablet in the cup and amplified the fizzing. She used many objects that clicked and clacked, moving gracefully through the constricted room, activating sounds from everything. How someone did not knock over a delicate tchotchke may have been the most impressive part of all. 

 

Jan Klare and Charlotte Keefe 

Next, the duo of British trumpeter Charlotte Keefe and German saxophonist Jan Klare (who was also in charge of the 'moers sessions') were scheduled to play at a cafe around the corner. Not feeling ready for a beer, I settled for a decent milchkaffee (or was it a cappuccino? my notes are lacking here) and waited. I was quickly learning that for these small in-town sets, they fill up quickly, so you needed to be early and patient. This is also where I overheard Keefe and Klare meeting for the first time, mere minutes before they were set to perform as a duo. 

 

The set was fantastic. There was not even a hint of hesitation between them, rather, they launched right into it as the sun beamed through the window behind them. Keefe utilized the full range of possibilities from her horns, playing clear, lively melodic strands and breathy washes of tone alike. Supporting, as well as instigating, Klare reacted in kind. Melodic statements mixed with spluttering tones, distorted notes blended with hissing sounds. Keefe's quick switch to the flugelhorn, whose rounder tone blended even more nicely with the alto sax as Klare launched into a more syncopated, jaunty lines. Both seemed to be physically moved by the sounds, bobbing, dipping and swaying to the interplay. 

 

 

Elisabeth Coudoux, Willi Kellers Gonçalo Almeida, and Thilo Schoelpen

After a walk back through the park to the main festival grounds, it was almost time for the 'moers sessions' at 2 p.m. The first set was the combination of cellist Elisabeth Coudoux, bassist Gonçalo Almeida, pianist Thilo Schoelpen , and drummer Willi Kellers.Their set turned out to be a welcome blast of good ol' free jazz. The group started with the flames on high and kept turning it up until the heat began escaping not only from the instruments in hand but in a series of excited screams from Coudoux. Next, saxophonist Hayden Chisholm, violist Jessica Pavone and pianist Darius Heid took an opposite approach. Minimalist and delicate, the set was a test of tension and restraint, the birds in the park were louder. Then, after a sudden downpour, the third set began with saxophonist John Dikeman, electronicist Achim Zepezauer, pianist Rieko Okuda and percussionist Jonas Evenstad. It was a free-jazz sandwich, the piano was ablaze with sharp tonal splats and jabs, the drums setting the energy level on high. After dialing it back for a moment, a gentle rumble of the piano led to a saxophone fueled melee of unbridled intensity.

 

bBb bBb: Lao Dan and the duo of Li Daiguo

I cannot say I recall what happened after this set, I must have wandered around, bumped into people and said hello, perhaps I ate some pizza ... that is usually correct ... and then it was time for bBb bBb (the duo of Li Daiguo & Lao Dan) on the outdoor stage. The duo began with a set that seemed to blend tradition and modern techniques. Li Daigou, an American born, China based, multi-instrumentalist approaches the lute-like pipa guitaristically. Lao Dan, playing a wooden flute, seemed to bring forth traditional melodies but, again, in a more contemporary manner. The two settled into a groove that encouraged some heads bopping in the audience. After cycling through the flutes, a naked mouth piece, and an alto clarinet-like instrument with a long, flexible neck, Lao Dan turned to his saxophone. Li Daigou had also pivoted from the pipa to the piano, creating a different atmosphere by interjecting beat-boxing. Then, like the sporadic cloudbursts that had been happening all day, the two let out a deluge of sound. The minimal piano lines and the fiery shredding of the saxophone began to peel back the layers of reality. This was something gobsmackingly new.

 

After the enthusiastic applause, it was just a few short minutes before Willi Keller's The Circle,with drummer Kellers, saxophonist Hans-Peter Hiby, pianist Rieko Okuda and bassist Meinrad Kneer began. The newish quartet seems to have gelled over the past year or so, performing in the current line up first at Jazzwerkstatt Peitz 2024 when Keller received the first Brandenburg Jazz Prize. 

 

Willi Keller's The Circle

The group began with the vibrating sounds of Hiby and Kneer. Keller and Okuda entered shortly thereafter, slowly building humming intensity. The piano was an agitating force, while Keller and Kneer laid a strong foundation. Then, Hiby began pushing fiercely, waves of intensity followed, the players retracting, regathering, and attacking again and again. Okuda physically bounced against the keyboard, before she began striking the piano from the inside. Hiby played tightly-wound lines, and the entire band pulled in, rigid, taut, thrumming and humming away. If there was a gauge, the needle would have been hovering between sizzling orange and boiling red, but they never quite went over the edge.

 

Somewhat in parallel, in the main hall, there was a moderated talk happening called "Kunst, Kritik oder Antisemitismus?" Over the past two years, there has been much criticism and protest over the war in Israel. The siege of the Gaza strip following the October 7th, 2022 Hamas attack has resulted in profound loss of life and profoundly impacted politics, including how artists have used their sets at festivals. I only heard the tail-end of the talk but it is impressive that Moers dedicated a series of talks to address these issues that have been ripping through society.

 

 

Chronograffiti. Photo by Zalesskaya 

The set that followed was a percussion based piece by Koshiro Hino called Chronograffiti. Through an evolution of drumming, first a set of players from the renowned Taiko group Kodo playing at an increasing tempo, adorned by flashing lights, to then a single player on a large drum in the front of the stage area, and finally to a piece with again multiple drummers. The crowd was enthusiastic, underscoring that the diversity of the music ensured something unconventional for everyone. 

 

Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters

The day was feeling already quite full, but there was still much to come. The next event being the highly anticipated Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters. The group, which came together in 2023, is a timely update to free-jazz, freely mixing elements of electronics, hip-hop, rock and free improvisation. Under a blanket of fog, the groups two electronicists, Gabriele Mitelli and Mariam Rezaei, flanked by saxophonist Mette Rasmussen and drummer Lukas Koenig, ignited with passionate fury -- they began at full throttle and took it from there. A potent moment arose when their volume level reduced to an electronic throb, and while Rasmussen started a long drone, Mitelli spat out sharp licks on his pocket trumpet, which he seemed to favor for long stretches of the set. Soon, Koenig settled into a sludgy groove and the band reached the first of several energetic peaks.  

 

 

Lao Dan

Stumbling out of the event hall into the cooler evening air on the market square, it was just in time to see Lao Dan being hoisted into the air on the scissor lift. Sounds, first of a sampled guitar and electronic drones, followed by his flute, permeated the skies around the festival, shaking the entire area. Half way through this unusual set, Lao Dan began to focus on electronics entirely, using a stick like object to control the sound. Watching his dramatic expressive gestures with the saber, he did seem a bit like a Jedi from afar.

 

After all of that, a nightcap did seem in order. Back in the large hall, random expectation, a collective of Chinese and German players* amassed on stage to offer a gentle, minimalist lullaby. 

 

That did the trick, good night! See you tomorrow for more Moers action.(Read part two here).

random expectation. Photo by Dennis Hoeren

*random expectation: Sun Yizhou (feedback), Zhu Wenbo (cl, tapes), Zhao Cong (objects), Tan Shuoxin (electr), Simon Rummel (microtonal harmonium), Thilo Schoelpen (p, feedback), Matthias Kaiser (prepared and amplified violin)

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