Not quite sure when or how today's video came over our transom, but it seems like a pretty good
metaphor for how it's feeling these days. A meditative view of a burning
world.
Video by Wojciech Rusin
Music by: Marek Pospieszalski - soprano & tenor saxophone,
clarinet, flute & tape; Zoh Amba - tenor saxophone; Piotr Chęcki - tenor &
baritone saxophone; Tomasz Dąbrowski - trumpet; Tomasz Sroczyński - viola; Szymon
Mika - electric guitar & acoustic guitar; Grzegorz Tarwid - piano; Max Mucha - double bass; Qba Janicki - drums & soundboard
A few years ago, I got turned on to Martin Archer’s Orchestra of the Upper
Atmosphere, which is a spaced-out prog band that somehow stands out from
the masses, who trod similar terrain. Still, I was not sure what, exactly,
made them stand out, until I heard Inclusion Principle.
Inclusion Principle is Archer’s pared down avant-electronica project.
Actually, it is pared down to a bare two: Martin Archer on modular synth,
shortwaves and clarinet and Hervé Perez on laptop (including field
recordings), shakuhachi, and sound design. Then again, maybe this can be
considered a core project, as it has been running for twenty years now.
Even though Perez himself is not a member of the OUA, the music on the two
EP’s reviewed here, The Call of a Crumbling Worldand
Clarino Oscura
, is the filament that makes that project so distinctive. Archer tends
toward his wide-beam reed work, spitting out heavy, round, and thick tones
that spin into repeating melodies. His synth contributions often follow a
similar trajectory, though with heavy distortion, adornments, and decay.
Meanwhile, Perez and, I assume, Archer lay backbeats that range from crackly
drum ‘n bass to Mos Eisley cantina space ambience to sound collaging,
replete with bird calls. Through it all, however, that slightly askew,
sweltry cosmic fusion that underpins many of Archer’s other projects,
especially OUA, shines through here.
The benefit of working in a smaller group is that the musicians can focus
on space in the round rather than one or another end of orchestral sound.
After the jaunty Romanic Tangential of
The Call of a Crumbling World
– a section of the single track that composes this album – Archer and Perez
offer the quiet storm of 2D Moonrise. On this one, the fine edges and
shimmers of the electronic work really shine through. The infrequent bass
beats surprise amidst the foggy electrical storm. This movement throbs and
sizzles and mesmerizes. Clarino Oscura unfolds with similar
elements, but on a different trajectory. It begins with ping-ponging beeps
and smeared electronic noises before a keyboard melody breaks through. It
sounds like morse code messages fighting through a variety of other
transmissions only partially realized. It reaches its flow in rush of
dancehall beats and various glitchy elements that awaken the listener from
complacent daydreaming. Shakuhachi and clarinet interpolate scraps of
melodies throughout, adding a slanted, eerie dimension to the otherwise
progressive back beats. But this has much more of an electro-dance flow,
making it most akin to Geometry Jungle from
The Call of a Crumbling World
. Yet, despite the backbone Perez lays, Clarino Oscura unfolds in multiple
directions. Tendrils grow and are abandoned just as quickly. The beats stop
for long intervals to open space for the finer tweaks and chirps, drawing
off the sweet spot of modern experimental music.
If the world is indeed crumbling, as one title suggests, these albums
witness it walking the fine line between opium haze dreaming and imagining
a way forward that is not quite so apocalyptic as the other steam-punkt
techno-futurists may have it.
The Call of a Crumbling World and Clarino Oscura are
available as downloads on Bandcamp:
Nikolas Skordas on wind instruments (saxophones and flute, tarogato and
tsabouna, a greek bagpipe) and Stefanos Chytiris (drums and percussion)
have been friends and collaborators for years. Playing as a duo they have
been reviewed here before, exploring the boundaries of the free jazz
sax-drums tradition. But they have played alongside many more (more
recently Chytiris has been a part of Pascal Niggenkemper’s large ensemble),
as their will and musical thinking always tends to collective works.
Spiritual Forces, a quite telling title about this recording, is the first
that comes out as a trio with Noraoto Nanashi on the double bass. The
presence on Noraoto’s playing, humble and low key, adds up to the
spirituality that Skordas gives the listener with the way he approaches his
wind instruments. I dare to say that Skordas, at least partly, re-imagines
his Balkan tradition in every track of this CD, a fact absolutely true on
track seven where under a barrage of free, but so concentrated, drumming by
Chytiris he encapsulates the tradition of mountain musics throughout
Greece. Noraoto uses the bow in order to create atmospheres, while Chytiris
manages, as ever, a great balance between being an individual player and
playing alongside his fellow musicians.
Noraoto’s presence in this music is so lyrical but at the same time almost
invisible. The music created by the double bass (as I was listening to a
lot of Angus MacLise lately) is rooted deeply into the minimalism of
eastern traditions. It felt to me that, even though Noraoto is the newcomer
in this music, this presence in integral for the CD.
Each musician is a spiritual force here. Even though, having listened to
many of his past and recent recordings, I expected that from Skordas,
Chytiris managed to catch me of guard with his vibrant, relaxed and
atmospheric playing.
This self released trio really deserves a listening as it creates solid
ground between the free jazz and free improv milieu and the, always on the
verge of being trance-like, musics from the Balkans.
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.
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.
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.
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.'
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
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.
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.
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!
