Jazz em Agosto / Lisbon, August 1-10 (3/3)

By David Cristol

Days 8 → 10  (See part 1, part 2)

Different strokes for different frogs

Shane Parish. Photo Petra Cvelbar – Gulbenkian Música

Alone in front of a large audience, looking even more relaxed than the previous evening, Shane Parish tunes his acoustic guitar. He begins with Ornette Coleman’s « Lonely Woman » which also opens the album Repertoire. The performance differs from the album version, in the way the theme is stated and where the accents are placed. Most of the pieces last around three minutes, sometimes less than two ; a couple are developed at greater length. The fingers sliding on the metal strings are very noticeable in the sound spectrum, to the point that they become part of the music. Parish’s style is crystal-clear, mostly without effects, except for two specific pieces. He has a consummate sense of pace, and a keen knack for audio storytelling. Each cover has a mood of its own, from the English ballad « She Moves Through the Fair » to Alice Coltrane's « Ptah the El-Daoud » which isn't on the album – a welcome surprise! The composition is stripped down to its basic shape and melody, without embellishments. The instinctive and elastic handling of dynamics reminds of blues players. Disarmingly simple tunes are intertwined with others more demanding for both player and listeners. Interpretations of Alice Coltrane’s « Journey in Satchidananda » (enriched with oriental ornaments, suiting the atmosphere of the original), Charles Mingus's « Pithecanthropus erectus », « It's you I like » by Fred Rogers, « Serenade to a cuckoo » by Roland Kirk, all make sense. Some tracks ask for a special tuning or detuning of the guitar. A standing ovation rewards the artist. As an encore he chooses « I'm going away », a fitting title to end a show with, in the Americana vein. We’re not getting Sun Ra’s twisted « Lights on a satellite » that closes the album. A pleasant aspect is the absence of style hierarchies, each composition chosen for a reason, whether it’s a melodic line that just sounds good, or a flexible blueprint that Parish sculpts as he sees fit.

Thumbscrew. Photo Petra Cvelbar – Gulbenkian Música

It’s been a hot day, especially for musicians having a soundcheck outdoors in the middle of the afternoon, and bass player Michael Formanek, now of the Lisbon scene, appears focused on the scores. His partners are similarly absorbed. No introductory talk, no attempt at a connection with the audience, no presentation of the material. Only music, until the "end credits". The compositions are shared between members of the group (each one a leader of other projects, and frequent allies in those), yet the sound is cohesive and belongs to Thumbscrew. Much of the same material as heard at Hamburg’s Elbphilharmonie in the winter (as part of the Marc Ribot-curated Reflektor weekend) is performed, but it doesn’t feel like a repeat. Not because the season and location are different, but because the compositions are played differently, a clue as to the trio’s modus operandi which is to push the music ever forward, with contempt for routine. We’re talking about some of the most endlessly inventive and skilled musicians of our time. After some guitar loops from Mary Halvorson, we get into the melodies (unorthodox as they may be) and forms. The pedal-triggered sound warps and varied techniques of Halvorson add an extra layer of challenge for listeners to grasp the already oddly organized contours. Drummer Tomas Fujiwara plays vibraphone on some pieces, changing the color of the trio in the process. Stellar solos are set to equally astute accompaniment. A fiery drums and guitar duo brings us onto unexpected noise territory. Each new piece proves equally surprising, no small feat for a jazz trio.

Elias Stemeseder. Photo Petra Cvelbar – Gulbenkian Música

In the Grand Auditorium, more incredibleness awaits with the Austrian-German duet of Elias Stemeseder (harpsichord, p, elec), Christian Lillinger (dm) and a key third man in sound engineer Marco Pulidori to support and maybe expand on their album Antumbra. The venue is in complete darkness except for the stage. Strobing lights and projected abstractions prevent from taking notes ; all that’s left to do is to enjoy the trip. And a trip it is. The lighting and cyclorama projections make players and instruments in turn disappear and reappear in quick flashes. The visuals, courtesy of Lillinger, are made of vertical stripes, squares and other eye-confusing devices that would make Maurits Cornelis Escher proud. This is a dizzying, loss of orientation-inducing work. Are we in outer space or, on the contrary, hearing through a microscope ? How the duo can perform such uncommon and kinetic music is a challenge to understanding. Their working methods are opaque but it’s obvious that the achievement rests on their close relationship and agreement as much on their individual skills. Through a wide array of trebly keyboards and synths, and an innovative use of the drums, they have created a musical design of their own, which will be hard to imitate. Even their acoustic playing doesn’t sound of this world. Stemeseder explains : « We have six compositions, with possibilities to move things around ». Lillinger’s playing has a precision, coldness and rigidity that serves the duo’s purpose. He’s the Man-Machine, and technology struggles to keep up with him. When the curtains open to reveal the greenery behind the stage, we're stunned to see it's still daytime, having lost track of time, wrapped in the duo's galactic soundworld.

Patricia Brennan Septet. Photo Petra Cvelbar – Gulbenkian Música

And now for something completely different. Yet, with some minimal digging, connections can be found. Both Mark Shim (ts) and Adam O’Farrill (tp) have taken part in the Stemeseder-Lillinger universe, the first one on the Antumbra album, the second in a live performance by the duo at the Bezau Beatz festival a couple of days before the Lisbon date. For her first tour as a leader in Europe and oozing more energy than Tesla, Vera Cruz-born Patricia Brennan (rippling vibraphone with electronics) leads a septet of six men plus herself. The line-up is the same as on the lauded Breaking Stretch album, except for Dan Weiss on drums (replacing Marcus Gilmore) and Cuba’s Keisel Jimenez on percussions (that include sacred bata drums) instead of Mauricio Herrera. Kim Cass on bass and the ubiquitous Jon Irabagon (alto & sopranino saxophones) round out the group. Brennan’s latin-jazz isn’t necessarily avant-garde, but her drive and jubilant arrangements are hard to resist and the players are solid gold. The leader’s mallets double as conductor’s batons.

This is for the most part percussion-heavy, hot, danceable music. The front line of horns play unisons and entwined lines on top of the rhythm workouts. A piece is nostalgia-tinged but still dynamic. « Earendel – the Morning Star » refers to Brennan’s passion for astronomy, the main source of inspiration for her next album, Of the Near and Far. On tenor, Shim seems to channel the ghost of Joe Henderson, which should come as no surprise since Shim’s early albums included covers of 1960s Blue Note tunes by Henderson and other young giants of the era. After a few days of brain-boggling music, this was the feasty ending we needed.

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Jazz em Agosto / Lisbon, August 1-10 (2/3)

By David Cristol 

Days 4 → 7  (see previous)

Próspero’s books

Luís Vicente Trio. Photo by Petra Cvelbar/Gulbenkian Musica

The Luís Vicente Trio is a fully Portuguese band for the trumpeter (who adds bells, whistle, kalimba, bottles and other toy-like instruments to his arsenal), after some time touring and recording with William Parker, Luke Stewart, Hamid Drake, John Dikeman, Mark Sanders, Onno Govaert and the Ceccaldi brothers. The trio with Gonçalo Almeida (b) and Pedro Melo Alves (dm, perc, objects) has two albums out on Clean Feed and was previously heard at the first edition of the neighboring Causa Efeito festival with Tony Malaby as their guest. The spirit and ideas of fire and open music innovators such as Don Cherry are an obvious influence. Several tunes promote hymn-like themes, followed by heated playing. Vicente alternates between elusive flurries and assertive, longer lines. He however doesn't try to be a virtuoso in either the Peter Evans or Wynton Marsalis molds. It’s about the music, not the trumpet. It’s about the people he plays with. It’s about interacting and sharing. Alves has a great sound (and his own albums come recommended). Almeida is on top form, propelling the jams, fully committed whether he holds a rhythm, soloes with a big strong tone or engages in wordless chanting. An elegiac melody soars over unruly and busy playing.

João Próspero Quartet. Photo by Petra Cvelbar/Gulbenkian Musica

Inspiration can come from anywhere, and some musicians find it in the works of painters, authors, activists as much as among their peers and mentors. Think of Myra Melford and her frequent references to artists unrelated to the music world, from writer Eduardo Galeano to painter, photographer and sculptor Cy Twombly. For the work titled Sopros, Porto’s composer and bassist João Próspero finds its muse in the writings of contemporary Japanese author Haruki Murakami. The quartet, made up of Joaquim Festas (elg), Miguel Meirinhos (p) and Gonçalo Ribeiro (dm) can be credited with original compositional ideas. The approach is definitely on the quiet side, the quartet unlikely to break a string or wake up the neighborhood. Prettily floating in the air, the light-as-a-feather music from the romantic four sounds unconcerned by the world’s commotion. On the encore, the combined influences of Ryuichi Sakamoto and Michael Nyman are felt.

MOPCUT with Moor Mother. Photo by Petra Cvelbar/Gulbenkian Musica

The international MOPCUT trio comes to Lisbon with the two guests from their latest effort, RYOK. Ace vocalist Audrey Chen's whimpers introduce the set in tune with the garden’s pond frogs, to which Moor Mother adds ruminations of her own. Drummer Lukas König initially opts for extremely peaceful playing, while Mother chugs into a harmonica with single notes bursts. This results in a kind of dark ambient, which transforms into another beast when Julien Desprez tumbles onstage spraying venomous drops from his Gatling gun guitar. Mother intones her first verses while shaking a rattle and dancing. Desprez kicks off a steady rhythm, MC Dälek throws irate rapping to the menacing bass notes from his synth, with König fleshing out the beat. The noise-meets-improv-meets-hip-hop fusion feels like a jam session, pleasant enough but rather stagnant and directionless between intermittent flashes of brilliance. A fine moment has Moor Mother delivering paranoid verses in her portentous voice, making more sense than Lee Scratch Perry.

Edward George. Photo by Petra Cvelbar/Gulbenkian Musica

After a series of relatively accessible acts from the finest protagonists of the era, the stakes are raised a few notches with artistic statements of a courageous, perhaps visionary nature. As the fest enters its final run, it throws uncompromising, hard to grasp music at the audience, more puzzling than it is immediately enjoyable. In particular, yet another meaningful, awe-inspiring project featuring pianist and electronics magus Pat Thomas in his fourth successive appearance at the festival, after being part of the Evan Parker ensemble, [Ahmed] and The Locals. The X-Ray Hex Tet has an album available, but listening to it doesn’t give a proper idea of the tense and stimulating experience it is to hear them live, with a superlative sound and no distraction. The sextet appears in the dimly lit auditorium and treats listeners to a considered but harrowing experience. It is somber, resorts to silence and hushed emissions, gets sonorous at times but never veers into overdrive. XT’s, [Ahmed]’s and jazz critic Seymour Wright favors short and coarse notes on the alto saxophone. Add two drummers, Crystabel Riley and Paul Abbott and, almost unseen, Billy Steiger on violin and the rare celesta. Finally and crucially, writer, broadcaster and spoken word artist Edward George reads excerpts from a pile of books and resorts to samples related to the politically aware and consciousness-raising subject matter : academic responsibility in the validation and perpetuation of mistreatments based on racial prejudice such as slavery, phrenology, hangings and colonization. It's not fun to listen to, but is for sure arresting, and the present-day implications give the listeners food for thought. The reader’s voice is clear and neutral, neither passionate nor angry, the facts dreadful enough without need for overstatement. The fragmentary display of the texts means that words are just one element of a patiently built whole. The gloomy tone doesn't lend itself to rapturous applause ; it leaves the audience stunned. An impressive work from a decidedly inspired group of artists from the UK.

Aleuchatistas 3. Photo by Petra Cvelbar/Gulbenkian Musica

Who needs categories when Aleuchatistas 3’s fast-moving music rocks at full steam, copious with ideas, twists and turns ? Odd time signature riffs are played at breakneck speed. The structures are tight and likely tricky to execute, but the delivery seems effortless. Of course Trevor Dunn (elb) and Shane Parish (erstwhile Shane Perlowin, on electric guitar and originator of the trio over 20 years ago) are no slouches when it comes to tackling difficult material. The discovery here is drummer Danny Piechocki. His contribution is central to building the inescapable architectures of the song-length compositions. Each track goes straight to the point. No fat around the edges. Parish appears as the most laid-back person to ever walk on a stage, his unfazed demeanor at odds with the somewhat obsessive-manic aesthetics of the music. I had lost track of Ahleuchatistas after their pair of albums on Tzadik – no wonder they pleased John Zorn’s ears, as the trio’s fierce focus and quick about-face have much in common with the New York manitou’s own leanings over the years. At one point, Parish plays alone, a preview of his solo set on the next day. He gives his regards to the full moon, looming behind the audience. The songs, lifted from the trio’s current album, are intricate yet engaging. On « What's your problem » Parish settles for high-pitched washes over an insane workout from the rhythm team, oddly reminiscent of the JB’s at their peak.

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Jazz em Agosto / Lisbon, August 1-10 (1/3)

By David Cristol  

The 41st edition of the festival taking place at Lisbon’s Calouste Gulbenkian Foundation fulfilled and exceeded expectations, with a display of some the most exciting current musical acts. The open-air amphitheatre was home to the evening concerts, while most of the late afternoon shows were set in the great-sounding small auditorium. Three memorable sets were presented in the large auditorium with its enchanting transparent stage wall overlooking the Garden’s plant and animal life. Day after day, it was heartening to queue with fans and visitors who came to witness avant-jazz performances, in venues replete down to the last seats. In many respects, Jazz em Agosto is utopia made real.

Days 1 → 3

Other planes of there

Heart Trio

William Parker. Photo by Petra Cvelbar/Gulbenkian Musica

 « The Heart Trio is special because we're playing all kinds of acoustic instruments. I play some drum set and frame drum. William is playing the guembri and reeds, and Cooper-Moore is playing his own self-created banjo, harp and so forth. It is different from In Order to Survive, another group the three of us play in together. In the Heart Trio, Cooper-Moore is not playing any piano. Same guy, completely different music. » (Hamid Drake in the Free Jazz Collective, April 25, 2025).

This edition starts off with a gathering of elder statesmen, connected with the Vision festival/Arts for Art scene and reaching further through multiple collaborations both in the US and Europe. The youngest, Hamid Drake, turns 70 two days after the Lisbon concert. With the Heart Trio, the African-American roots of jazz and the spirit of improvisation are feted. No law says that musicians have to limit themselves to playing a single instrument. Tonight William Parker doesn’t have a bass, the instrument he’s famous for. This allows him to switch from various instruments to his heart’s content, such as the ngoni, the duduk, the guembri and the hunting horn. Not a first for the shepherd of the New York free jazz community. Cooper-Moore has enjoyed performing on self-built instruments to great expressive effect since decades : today a xylophone, an odd flute, the diddley-bow and more. Only Drake has his usual kit. Sitting center-stage, Parker initiates the colors and tempis of the groove-based improvisations. A spiritual atmosphere pervades the set. It’s about sounds and rhythms, and the primeval or childish joy of trying things and seeing what happens. It wanders quite a bit and doesn’t always ignite. When it works, they keep going at it for a while. Here a hi-life rhythm emerges, with Parker on a wooden flute emitting a single gravelly note like a didgeridoo ; there Drake launches a breakbeat, with Parker humming and repeating a pattern on the guembri. A ramshackle blues proves satisfying. To maintain the trio’s balance, Cooper-Moore holds back more than usual, which seems counterintuitive for an artist known for his eccentric outbursts, an edgy character who thrives in busy situations. He however manages to insert his sense of humor into the proceedings. Drake is his usual reliable self, available to every change of direction and suggesting some of his own – a reggae beat, or a soulful vocal invocation accompanied by the lone frame drum. At the end, Parker the wise grabs the microphone to encourage « the heart to be yourself », « the heart to fulfill your dreams », « the heart to never give up », « the heart to listen… ».

Rafael Toral. Photo by Petra Cvelbar/Gulbenkian Musica

The two solo concerts of the edition celebrated the guitar, used in wildly opposing fashions. With Spectral Evolution, Rafael Toral unleashed electric orchestral soundscapes on a grand, almost operatic scale. A lush sound fills the room. A Theremin stands alone, which Toral uses from a distance, to influence the sounds triggered by the guitar. Which actually sounds more like a church organ than your average six-strings. Broad and precise movements of the arms and hands are activating the eerie characteristics of the Theremin. Toral plays the two instruments at the same time, linked together to create the sound he’s after. The cover of the album corresponding to tonight’s music features the very same image of a bird as seen projected behind the artist, and in the Summer 2025 issue of We Jazz, Toral appears in the same position, with the same visual backdrop. The slow chords, partly inspired by 1930s jazz arrangements, are immersive, the waves and layers seductive. The ending – or so we think – has the artist unlit, a dark silhouette in front of the image, coaxing static sounds from the guitar, with added digital bird sounds. It is not the end, however, for Toral returns to the same layering that has occupied most of the set, the majestic soundscapes we’ve heard before. Finally, he puts the guitar aside to show off his prowess on the lone Theremin, which seems like an unnecessary conclusion. Some people get fidgety, phone screens start to light up like scattered firelflies. The duration, however, is no mere whim but stems from the choice to present the album in its entirety. Interviewed in the summer issue of We Jazz, Toral states : « I’m enjoying everything that is variable in live playing, but I’m basically performing the album as a composition. I usually don’t do that, but I felt I had to offer that experience, as the album became so strong. The show benefits from the album’s structure, and the live expansion worked so well that it receives lots of listening love with a very enthusiastic reception every time ». 

Kris Davis Trio. Photo by Petra Cvelbar/Gulbenkian Musica

The Kris Davis Trio appearing in the outdoors amphitheater consists on the leader on prepared and unprepared piano, Robert Hurst on double bass and Johnathan Blake on drums. Davis had performed on the same stage at the 2022 edition with the Borderlands Trio (Stephan Crump and Eric McPherson). And a few days before in New York, Davis was part of yet another trio, with drummer Tom Rainey and Korean gayageum player DoYeon Kim. Hurst, whose career is firmly grounded in mainstream jazz, and Blake are the players on Davis’ « Run the Gauntlet » album, dedicated to six women composers. They perform a selection of pieces from that record, penned by each of them, as well as new compositions yet to be recorded. We’re not on free jazz territory but the skillful and clear-cut playing of Davis reconciles upholders of the jazz tradition and supporters of the creative vistas. Blake, also a member of the current Ben Monder trio, has the drum elements placed very low in front of him. The playing is mostly unshowy, Davis electing to play two-note chords when three notes aren’t necessary. Some tunes are punchy and highly rhythmical but never yield to speed intoxication. Not one for long statements, Davis has a taste for concision, but likes good strong clusters on occasion, as on the album’s titular piece. Hurst's elegant playing and Blake’s effusiveness complement each other well. Introspection and turmoil go hand in hand, sometimes simultaneously. A ballad, gentle but full of unusual angles and developments, resembles what Herbie Hancock and Wayne Shorter were composing in the mid-sixties. Beneath the stoic surface, could it be that Davis' music is funky at its core ? The less is more approach is an element of that feel, as are Blake’s contributions. Towards the end, Hurst adds an electronic effect to his bass, his notes doubled an octave higher, unexpected in this acoustic setting. The NYC-cellars-bred aesthetic translates well to the opulent spaces of the Foundation. 

Mariam Rezaei. Photo by Petra Cvelbar/Gulbenkian Musica

UK turntablist and The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters member Mariam Rezaei gets lone billing on the program. It makes sense in that she’s a frequent solo performer (she was seen in May at Toulouse’s Le Vent des Signes, turning a sold-out [Ahmed] LP to shreds), and tonight’s show has her alone on stage for close to half an hour before she’s joined by MOPCUT’s Julien Desprez on electric guitar – although calling him a guitar player is open for debate – and Lukas König on drums. Turntablism originates in hip-hop culture, and scratching is still very much a part of it, but it has evolved into varied strands. Turntablist Christian Marclay, a favorite of art museums these days, turned his cut-up methods to film. With a style all her own, Rezaei’s use of the turntables allows her to tap into a well of near-infinite possibilities. Like Desprez’ guitar is his chosen tool for unleashing sonic blasts and electric uppercuts, Mariam’s decks and records are a key to unlocking and transforming samples stored in a computer, and other sound-altering gear is also put to use. Harsh electronics open the set, followed by trumpet. Rezaei is versed in jazz culture past and present, and likes to use sounds from people she performs with, either from albums or expressly recorded to that end. Mette Rasmussen’s sax and Gabriele Mitelli’s trumpet are mixed in a fictional dialogue. Later, pre-recorded saxophone phrases from Sakina Abdou are thrown into the brew. Punky vocals and chaotic rumors are deployed – a fitting soundtrack for the hellish 2025. Fingers move nimbly on the boards and knobs. When her French and Austrian friends come on stage, the noise factor increases. König is the one with the more traditional approach to his instrument, albeit with two sticks in each hand for more firepower. Desprez dances on the pedals and shoots crackling arrows across the venue. A few frightened patrons flee as fast as they can, but that’s par for the course at many a Jazz em Agosto gig and the vast majority sits tight to enjoy what’s coming at them. For Desprez, this collaboration also seems like a logical continuation of his solo work and with the Abacaxi trio. A cathartic aggregate, approved by a cheering audience. 

Darius Jones. Photo by Petra Cvelbar/Gulbenkian Musica

Composer and alto sax player Darius Jones, sporting a Howlin' Wolf and Muddy Waters t-shirt, returns to the Jazz em Agosto stage after last year’s performance of his fLuXkit Vancouver (i̶t̶s̶ suite but sacred) work. For tonight’s Legend of e’Boi (The Hypervigilant Eye), the personnel is the same as on the album. Gerald Cleaver (dm) and Chris Lightcap (b) are both favorite associates of many an avant-jazz explorer. The six pieces from the album are played, in a different order. It’s, again, a high point of the festival. Over a seriously cooking rhythm tandem, the alto initially throws sparse notes and brief riffs in the air. Jones’ alto is simultaneously raw, dissonant and warm, reminiscent of Henry Threadgill’s. The music is composed, yet the execution sounds open. Each member has a lot of space for expression, but no one takes the lion’s share. Jones announces that « We inside », a vehicle for Lightcap, will be played at a low volume, and invites the audience to come close and sit around the band. Slowly, one, then three, then fifty young listeners respond and carefully climb on the stage. All tracks demonstrate depth beneath the formal simplicity. « Motherfuckin’ Roosevelt » is a dedication to the composer’s uncle who encouraged him to play the saxophone. « No more my Lord » originates in a recording by archivist Alan Lomax at the Mississippi penitentiary ; this quietly burning version has a tribal beat on the toms, a droning arco in the lower register of the bass, and the gloomy alto lamentation turns into a feverish incantation, maybe a prayer to the devil for help. The scream becomes Aylerian and Cleaver breaks loose : a gripping affair ! A great trio, and another major entry in Darius Jones’ fascinating itinerary.

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The 18th Bezau Beatz Festival, Bezau, Austria, Aug. 7-10, 2025

By Eyal Hareuveni

My first visit to the Bezau Beatz festival, located in a small village in a valley in the Bregenz Forest region of the Austrian Alps, and founded by drummer and head of Boomslang Records Alfred Vogel, and now run together with another Bezau native, the Berlin-based drummer Valentin Schuster. This festival enjoys the growing pool of musicians who have already released their work on Boomslang Records, but also suggests an experience that is more than musical, of life in a small, peaceful, and laidback community that disarms you instantly of the restless, tension-filled atmosphere of urban landscapes and fosters creativity that enjoys its beautiful, natural scenery.

First Day, Thursday, Aug. 7

On each day, at noon, at the festival HQ at Hotel Post, Little Konzett, the head of Little Big Beat Studios in Liechtenstein (and a mastering studio near Bezau), conducted a Deep Listening Session, evoking the almost ancient art of listening to vinyl in a high-end, audiophile system, recorded and produced exclusively through analog equipment, with no digital processing, in nthe highest standards possible. In our time, where most music is consumed by streaming services, through cell phones, and in a much inferior quality, it was a sweet reminder about the wonders and sheer joy of listening to just simple, good music through such a superb system.

The first performance of the festival took place at the Hotel Post lobby and was by Leipzig-based quartet Stax, headed by drummer-composer Max Stadtfeld, and featuring tenor sax player Matthew Halpim, guitarist Bertream Burkert, and double bass player Reza Askari. Stax’ third album, Fancy Future (Boomslang, 2024) marked Stadtfeld’s forward-thinking compositional ideas. The melodic and rhythmic core of his compositions is articulated by Halpin and Askari, while Stattdtfeld’s free drumming and Burkert’s effects-laden electric guitar playing deconstruct and reconstruct the melodic and rhythmic ideas, often in ironic and even subversive manners, transforming them into prog-rock or twangy American terrains, and keep feeding the tension.

Next, at Hotel Post basement, aka SuBBwayZ, the Berlin-based Denkyū Unlimited duo of sound artists, bassist Bernhard Hollinger and drummer Fabian Rösch, sketched dark. free improvised soundscapes that introduced the rhythmic sound of lightbulbs, and lightbulbs as light sculpture (an art pioneered by Berlin-based percussionist Michael Vorfeld). Later, the festival moved to the local locksmith’s workshop, Kunstschmiede Figer, which hosted the Bremen-based contemporary string quartet Pulse (violinist Johannes Haase and Susanne Hapf, violist Yuko Hara, and cellist Jakob Nierenz) with Berlin-based drummer Tilo Weber for an intimate, subtle, and playful set of compositions that used the extended percussive bowing techniques of Pulse and visited West-African, Gnawa rhythmic patterns.

Later that Evening, at the Festival’s main stage, Remise Wälderbähnle. The old steam locomotive garage, Cologne-based pianist-composer Felix Hauptmann presented his sextet Serpentine (flutist Jorik Bergman, alto sax player Fabian Dudek, bassist Ursula Wienken, vibes player Samuel Mastorakis, and drummer Leif Berger, who is also playing in Hauptmann Percussion Trio), on its second-ever performance, and before recording its debut album. Hauptmann is a brilliant composer who insists on his idiosyncratic vision, constantly shifting, labyrinthine rhythmic patterns, and complex, detailed textures, which make full use of the profound interplay between himself, excellent drummer Berger, and vibes player Mastorakis. At times, the Serpentine sextet sounded as if corresponding with Tim Berne’s serpentine compositions and the unique manner the compositional ideas feed the improvised parts, and vice versa. A promising performance that made me go through Hauptmann's entire discography.

Second Day, Friday, Aug. 8  

How Noisy Are The Rooms?

The morning concert Kunstschmiede Figer was titled Promoter’s Brunch (coffee and cakes were served) and featured organizers-drummers Vogel and Schuster’s bands. Vogel’s How Noisy Are The Rooms? with Berlin-based vocal artist Almut Kühne and tutntables wizard Joke Lanz, released earlier this year, its sophomore album (Tühü, Boomslang, 2025). The trio played an uplifting, free improvised set, full of unpredictable sonic inventions, that often left the audience smiling with joy. Kühne spread her magic with a stream of abstract vocalizations and quotes from the poetry of German visual artist and poetess Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven (the Dada baroness), with Joke Lanz stretching and mutating her phrasing and Vogel locking it in brief grooves. The dynamics of this trio were a treat for the ears and eyes. 

Schuster’s Berlin-based Crutches is a completely different beast. This quartet features Jan Frisch on a double-neck bass-guitar, Olga Reznichenko on keytar and bass synth, and Laure Boer on what she aptly calls withctronics (telephone, bowed monochord, mikes, electronics, and voice). Crutches calls its music tongue-in-cheek, acrobatic punk with metric ambivalence and offers yin-yang dynamics. Schuster, with his prog-metal drumming (you could hear echoes of Meshuggah), and Frisch’s mathematical guitar bass lines, were countered by ironic, disruptive responses by Boer and Reznichenko, and this kind of playful tension fed the hyperactive dynamics. For the encore, the two bands joined together and deepened this powerful, energetic vibe, with Kühne leading with her dadaist vocalizations, Boer and Joke Lanz forging a subversive alliance, and Vogel and Schuster locking the sonic mayhem in an engaging groove.

The afternoon program, back at the Remise, began with the Leipzig-based Olga Reznichenko Trio, with the Russia-born Reznichenko on piano, double bass player Lorenz Heigenhuber, and drummer Stadtfeld. This trio has already released two albums and established a deep, intuitive affinity that has translated remarkably Reznichenko’s rich and unorthodox melodic ideas, always spiced with a quirky sense of irony (one of the pieces was titled “A Ballad For a Cowboy Who Is Yet To Find Out About Fear”), and performed with commanding rhythmic energy that bring to mind the hypnotic grooves of Nik Bärtsch. The trio concluded the set with a beautiful homage to the great Russian film director Andrei Tarkovsky. 

Back at Hotel Post SuBBwayZ, the Berlin-based GORZ duo of Argentinian-born vocalist-guitarist Lara Alarcón and Swiss guitarist Cyrill Ferrari filled the room with extroverted, fast, and seductive rhythmic songs that mixed raw and noisy, killer black metal riffs, and dramatic, athletic dances that often sounded as if blending Arto Lindsay’s skronk world with Nina Hagen. 

Back at the Remise, the Berlin-based sextet Deranged Practicals of double bass player Felix Henkelhausen, with trumpeter Percy Pursglove, tenor sax player Philipp Gropper, vibes player Evi Filippou, pianist Elias Stemeseder, and drummer Philip Dornbusch, performed brilliantly pieces from the sextet’s debut, self-titled album (Fun in the Church, 2024). Deranged Practicals inhabits Henkelhausen’s rhythmic counterpoint and labyrinthine, unraveling forms, always on the verge of complete yet joyful chaos, but, miraculously, the puzzle-like, contrapuntal dynamics not only reflect the complex polyrhythmic music but drive the individual, commanding solos. 

Before ending the night, the audience jumped into the old Wälderbähnle (forest railway), and after two stops, the 16-year-old DJ INNX (Marlon Ebner-Innauer) made everyone dance. The night ended with the London-based Witch N’ Monk duo of Colombian flutist Mauricio Velasierra and anarchic soprano-guitarist Heidi Heidelberg, who offered punkish-shamanic songs where Velasierra’s South American flutes were enhanced into otherworldly percussive instruments.

Third Day, Saturday, Aug. 9.  

Liudas Mockūnas

The morning concert at the old Kirche Reuthe featured the Lithuanian quartet Ward 4, led by sax player (tenor, soprano, and sopranino saxes) Liudas Mockūnas, with two tuba players - Simonas Kaupinis and Mikas Kurtinaitis, and drummer Arnas Mikalkėnas. The quartet played a few extended pieces that highlighted not only its unorthodox instrumentation but its wisdom and far-reaching, poetic musical vision. It opened with an insightful version of one of Anthony Braxton’s early compositions, with the tuba players playing the rhythmic parts, Mikalkėnas colors it with delicate touches, and Mockūnas' wise solo expands its complex rhythmic ideas. The quartet continued with another remarkable composition, a dedication to the iconic Luciano Berio’s “Sequenza IX” (for alto saxophone, 1981), which Mockūnas confessed that he never managed to play properly, that, again, exhausted the resourcefulness, irreverent musical choices, and the rare dynamics of Ward 4, beautifully resonated in the acoustics of Kirche Reuthe.

The afternoon program, back at Hotel Post SuBBwayZ, featured the Berlin-based percussionist Joss Turnbull, who presented his "struggle drumming", playing the Persian percussive instrument, tombak, through many effects and live-processing, and creating layered, urgent, and radical soundscapes that take this instrument into futurist sonic landscapes. Soon after, the audience moved to the nearby Mittelschule Bezau and enjoyed the touching conclusion of the Hear and Now workshop of choreographer and dancer Naïma Mazic and vibes player Evi Filippou for local participants, featuring two promising children.

Benoît Delbecq

Later, at the Remise, French master pianist-composer Benoît Delbecq performed a solo set on a prepared piano and played a most poetic program that encompassed his rich musical universe, referencing the Chicago Loop, the spiritual architecture of Japanese Tadao Ando, a dedication to Steve Lacy, and the black paintings of the late French painter Pierre Soulages. Delbeck offers enigmatic, deep conversations with the resonating piano, often sounding as if juggling between struggling to discipline the prepared piano or surrendering to its unpredictable percussive sounds, but always with a calm, almost nonchalant authority. He concluded with this an encore, a moving, poetic adaptation of Don Cherry’s “Mopti”, without any piano preparations, that cemented, again, his profound, creative spirit. 

Stemeseder-Lillinger UMBRA

Then Bezau Beatz offered another opportunity for the audience to flex its muscles and dance with the Ghanaian, Austria-based Kofi Quarshie and Agoo Group at the open Dorfplatz. Later, back on Remise, the Stemeseder-Lillinger UMBRA modular quartet of Austrian pianist Elias Stemeseder, German drummer Christian Lillinger, augmented by American trumpeter Adam O'Farrill and double bass playerJoe Sanderse (who recorded themselves a day before the festival at the Little Big Beat Studios), played an acoustic set of the ever-growing Umbra compositions. Umbra is a sonic lab that focuses on a synthesis of various,genre-defying musical systems, but most of all, it stresses the immediate, deep, and telepathic interplay of Stemeseder and Lillinger. They execute the most complex, layered musical ideas with such a poetic, spellbinding manner, with Lillinger dancing, literally, on his drum set, moving as if painting the musical flow in the air. It took O’Farill and Sanderse a while to find their place in such an elaborate sonic ecosystem, but once they fit in, the music sounded as if it had unstoppable natural power of its own.

Jim Black

The night ended at Hotel Post Lobby with Meow, the wildest band of American, Berlin-based drummer Jim Black (dressed in a cat t-shirt), with vocalist Cansu Tanrıkulu, keyboard player Liz Kosack (with a cat mask), and bassist Dan Peter Sundland. This quartet releases its debut album MICE! (Self-Release, 2020) that somehow went under the radar and missed its aggressive, furr-improvising, groom metal meets, synth-pop, nonsensical hip-hop, with Black’s synthesized Barry White-like vocals and heavy Balkan beats (check Black’s nineties Pachora band). Yes, Meow declares that it detests programmatic music and cat puns. Meow cat stand it. Mewo protests and sings about feline-gender issues (“It Is Hard Being Mr. Pussy”). Meow had all the right ingredients to keep its audience dancing and shouting meows whenever the charming, charismatic Tanrıkulu called: Come on, Cats after teasing the audience for almost an hour. Meow returned for another half an hour encore and made sure that all would dream about singing felines in all colors and variations.

The festival ended on Sunday morning with a relaxed, sensual set by Portuguese vocalist Joana Raquel and her Queda Áscua quartet, with a taste of the traditional farmers' breakfast of this region, Riebl (a kind of cider), and coffee, at the Remise. 

Bezau Beatz Orchestra of Good Hope - Live at Bezau Beatz 2024 (Boomslang, 2025)

During the festival, Boomslang Records released the debut album of the Bezau Betaz Orchestra of Good Hope, a few weeks before it coming performance in the Saalfelden Festival. This free jazz nonet was organized by Vogel and Argentinian pianist Leo Genovese, and features new and old associates of Vogel - Argentinian tenor sax player Camila Nebbia, baritone sax player Sofia Salvo, and double bass player Demian Cabaud, Portuguese trumpeter Luís Vicente, and João Pedro Brandão, and Swiss bass clarinetist Lucien Dubuis. This Orchestra was recorded live at the Remise during the previous edition of Bezau Beatz festival. 

The democratic Orchestra of cosmic sisters and brothers celebrated Vogel’s return to performing and running the festival after being diagnosed with Leukemia and going through a tasking, long therapy. The 57-minute, fiery “Suite of Good Hope” was indeed a spiritual celebration of music and life, focusing on generous, compassionate dynamics and spreading the healing vibrations of powerful, free improvised music. Vogel, who was in top form, said that he felt as if he was running through a finishing line. 

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When the Sun Becomes a Bird: the 44th Konfrontationen in Nickelsdorf

Photo by author

By Andrew Choate 

As the geopolitical world continues to reach new depths of shallowness in terms of respect for humanity, my appreciation for the art that transpired at the 44th Konfrontationen in Nickesldorf last July has only grown. Dedicated to the phenomenal Swiss pianist Irène Schweizer, who had recently passed, the music this year now seems like a utopian counterpoint to the global tragedies increasing and accelerating. In some ways, I’ve always thought of improvised music as a model for living, an ethics-in-action, a real-time negotiation with the material world, an attempt to create something beautiful while wrestling with the myriad shifting social conditions involved.

The trio of Sylvia Bruckner (piano), Tony Buck (drums, percussion) and Martin Siewert (electric guitar, lap steel, electronics) embodied this spirit with understated precision. Siewert opened by groping the electrobuzz, kindling a delicate heartfelt piano twinkle harmonic resonance from Bruckner. Her melodies crinkled—somber and assured—using    the dampening of the strings to bring mellifluous connections to the fore. Siewert added a few ghostly isolated acoustic strums on his guitar before zooming in on an essential psychedelic crux. (I know I always note his psych moments. Martin, dm me when you start a new-wave Flower Travellin’ Band; I’ll drop everything I’m doing and work for you.) This full band rose in waves, quickening their pace and amplifying the decibels before receding and rising again, multiple times – but each time finding surprisingly perpendicular routes to the halting and quietizing.

Green verdure from the music with the late night blue sky. Buck pulled out a scrape as harsh as pulling the skin off a bee, but verdure has that side too. Their second piece started swirlier, an invitation to the maelstrom, Bruckner bowing the piano leg, then a solid crosshatching by Buck to shade in the full picture: look! animals in a landscape!

Photo by Karl Wendelin

Akira Sakata (vocals, clarinet, alto saxophone, bells) & Entasis: Giovanni di Domenico (piano)/ Giotis Damianides (electric guitar)/ Petros Damianides (doublebass)/ Aleksander Škorić (drums, percussion)

The air was so blue, the light so piercingly blue, in the sky, on my lap, Bogdana started dancing, and then a weird howl that wasn’t coming from any visible instrument tornadoed through the garden. A piano vs. guitar warble-off broke loose, so Sakata got inchwormy, in the Coltrane sense. The grounding force of di Domenico’s piano in this ensemble cannot be overstated: his centeredness allowed the band to follow their wildest whims, and his precise accents made each wildness sound wilder, more beloved for being so.

Sakata went trilling toward heaven on alto before switching to clarinet, just as the guitarist switched to another more suited for congliptious underpinnings and thick washes of thrum. Škorić played a scrappy brand of workhorse drums, using leverage and balance to keep the music improbably afloat. Once Sakata opened his mouth for poetry, the full guttural grist and gumption came pouring out. It felt like a blessing, direct and primal. I remember sensing his vocal sounds emerging cone-shaped, spreading like seeds across the space, popping in everyone’s ears at slightly different moments. Edi said it felt like Sakata was narrating the final two episodes of Samurai Jack – bittersweet and oddly fulfilling.

Akira Sakata. Photo by Karl Wendelin

It was free jazz blue, and it blew – but not without a loping melody in the zone of Synopsis’ classic “Mehr Aus Teutschen Landen” from Auf Der Elbe Schwimmt Ein Rosa Krokodil. The band ended on a rumble. Magda D. likened the set to “a wind of energy that comes through the soul and undusts it, sweeping out bad stuff. Calming. After the storm of music, the storm inside is calmer.”

Martin Brandlmayr (drums, percussion)/ Elisabeth Harnik (piano)/ Didi Kern (drums, percussion)

What struck me most was how effective it was that the two drummers couldn’t really see what each other were doing; they just listened and worked together to elevate Harnik. All three launched in with force and never let up. There was density—trebly density—with huffed cymbals rising mountainous into thinner air. At moments it felt like three drummers; at other times, five pianists. We’re talking real cymbal delicacy here – shimmers in tune. That mountaineering feeling never left me: this was music as adventure – climbing, rappelling, gasping for breath, struggling and loving it (what exquisite views!)

Harnik Trio. Photo by Karl Wendelin

Harnik can play skyrocketing harmonies because she lifts her hands and fingers so far off the keys: we have ignition! we have exclamation points!! Brandlmayr channelled jungle jangles, kids kicked a soccer ball in the alley during the second piece, and Kern coralled the rollingness of constantly shifting downbeats. I watched his reflection in the piano lid, which gave the music an added layer of connectedness. The whole thing felt like winning the world’s most non-competetive race: the only way to win was together.

Flights of Motherless Birds

John Butcher (saxophones)/ Chris Corsano (drums, percussion)/ Flo Stoffner (guitar)

On the second day at the Jazzgalerie, I noticed how satisfying the new chairs are: cushy in two places! Perfect for sinking into while aborbing an interlacing of densities from three improvisors prone to prod the microclimates. They micro-processed air (Butcher), land (Corsano) and sea (Stoffner), each shaping a zone with exacting detail. There was something ladder-like about the performance – not in the sense of ups and downs, but in the regular intervallic shifting, like rungs you trace with your ears. I heard the theme song for a really twisted detective show – one with no crimes, but an overwhelming number of clues.

John Butcher. Photo by Karl Wendelin

Insect-style improv, yes, but with a rhapsody corrector. They had the guts to stop when it was right, not dragging an idea past its peak: sweet conclusions discovered were honored, not inflated. It didn’t seem like they had a lot of different things to say, but sometimes saying one thing clearly, tenderly and fluidly from multiple angles is more than enough.

Luís Vicente (trumpet)/ John Dikeman (tenor saxophone)/ Luke Stewart (doublebass)/ Onno Govaert (drums, percussion)

This set felt like announcement music – declarative and insistent. Bogdana responded with a dance that felt like prayer through movement. Govaert was new to me, and I loved how he meshed with Stewart; the two built a thick, flexible web of bass and drums. At times, Dikeman’s overblown tenor made me wonder whether it’s the right horn for him, like maybe he would be better off figuring out new ways to freak a flute. Similar to Brötzmann, when he slows down, he can carve out a really fine sequence of notes, as he did while undergirding Vicente’s fast solo with a solid, descending motif.

John Dikeman. Photo by Karl Wendelin

An intricate and fascinating staccato puzzle began forming in the rhythm section, until Dikeman burst in with vocalic exclamations that sent the whole thing in another direction. Stewart’s bass solo was all too brief – especially given the layered, detailed groundwork he was laying throughout, to anchor the wind instruments’ fervor. Playing bass in this band felt like trying to slow down a racecar: how can you get the driver to honor both the car and the track, the holistic totality of speed and terrain? If a bird’s flight is a message to be deciphered and then obeyed, the sunrise glory rays cast by a frog preparing to leap are pure command.

Red Desert Experience: Eve Risser (piano)/ Matthias Müller (trombone)/ Grégoire Tirtiaux (baritone saxophone)/ Tatiana Paris (guitar)/ David Merlo (bass)/ Melisse Hié (balafon, djembe)/ Ophélia Hié (balafon), Oumarou Bambara (djembe, bara)/ Emmanuel Scarpa (drums, percussion)

This was the set I had most anticipated all weekend, and I was not disappointed. When it began with a balafon solo, which soon became a duo by the Hié sisters, the first thing I noted was that even the musicians not yet playing were smiling, nodding and dancing with their heads. That’s what you want! I was trying to brush away the goosebumps on my arm—I was so full of anticipation for the full ensemble’s sound, I even cried a little imagining what was to come—but the goosebumps stayed, and I stayed riveted, perched on the edge of my seat for the whole performance (though I couldn’t help wishing some space had been cleared for us to dance). [I know the photos are all of djembes, but different moments in text can be illustrated by different images]

Red Desert Experience. Photo by Karl Wendelin

Risser was already dancing on her piano bench before even touching the keys, which amped me up even more. As each instrumentalist joined in, it felt like they were adding colors we hadn’t known were missing – each entry making the picture richer and more vibrant. Merlo’s electric bass locked into perfect synchrony with Risser’s spectral scrapes from beyond the veil. I became totally enamored with her physicality at the piano: standing, throbbing over the keys, through the keys, throbbing through the music. She leads this orchestra not by dominance, but by sheer love for the sound – and that love is infectious. The interplay between piano and balafons was both sophisticated and tactile, harmonic and endearing.

Photo by Karl Wendelin

We basked in polyrhythms, then Risser raised her hand and signaled: 1, 2, 3, 4 BANG – an abrupt, thrilling stop to open onto an abstract trombone solo from Müller, utterly enchanting. Later, Risser added flute, and suddenly we were in Conference of the Birds territory – especially as Tirtiaux played his baritone saxophone with the mouthpiece removed, sculpting soft, breathy reverberations. I’ve written before about how much I admire Risser, and this performance opened up a new dimension to that admiration: her ability to extend the traditions I love by infusing them with sound worlds that haven’t historically shared space. Dark waves of tone clusters and gorgeously exorbitant major chords meshed wondrously with traditional African percussion instruments. Michael said the performance felt like an homage to Schweizer; even if it was unconscious, Irène was certainly in the air. And I have no doubt she was flying on plumes of radiance.

Hamid Drake (drums, percussion)/ Georg Graewe (piano)/ Brad Jones (doublebass)

By the time this set began, I was wiped out – wishing it had been placed anywhere else in the program. (Why make anything follow Red Desert Experience?) But such is the largesse of the Konfrontationen: outrageous highs follow outrageous highs, and it’s the audience’s job to keep pace. Alas, even with musicians I’m practically obsessed with, I could barely focus in the moment. At the time, Jones’ bass didn’t seem to add much to the several-decade rapport between Graewe and Drake. But now that the recording has been released, I hear it differently. There’s a lot of strong, responsive pivoting in his playing – grounding the dialogue and giving it shape. Sometimes we need a little hindsight to hear what was really there.

Brad Jones. Photo by Karl Wendelin

What Do You Want from a Bird?

José Lencastre (alto saxophone)/ Vinicius Cajado (doublebass)

Sitting in the shade of the stone arena at the Kleylehof to start the third day was just what the body needed. This pleasant afternoon wake-up set was perfectly embodied by the image of Lencastre, barefoot in the grass, playing alto saxophone. At one point, he even paused mid-phrase to let a breeze pass. His Desmond-like clarity and warmth couldn’t have been gentler, or more attuned to the moment.

Cajado & Lencastre. Photo by Karl Wendelin

Cajado, too, leaned into tenderness – using the bass’s glorious low-end to soften and lubricate the lightness in the air, never perturb it. From the performances I’ve seen and the recordings I’ve heard, his wide range is clear – but today it was his restraint and generosity that stood out. This was an afternoon duo of subtle gestures, gracious pacing and attunement to the setting.

Egg Shaped Orbit: Almut Schlichting (baritone saxophone)/ Els Vandeweyer (vibraphone, balafon)/ Keisuke Matsuno (electric guitar)

I had to catch up on a meal during this set, so I listened from a little farther away than usual, which may have accounted for my inability to fully submerge into it. Strange, since I’m a longtime fan of Vandeweyer’s luscious, quavering vibraphone tone. Matsuno’s    guitar playing leaned spaceward, pushing the vibe into slightly psychy territory before Vandeweyer scattered detritus on the vibes and plunked at the objects with a slightly madcap frenzy. Schlichting’s baritone came across a bit bonky, in the Vandermarkian way—repeated one-note blasts—and it didn’t quite land for me, though it may have been a case of schnitzel brain. Distance, digestion and sonic subtlety don’t always align, but I’d gladly revisit a recording of this set if it ever emerges.

Phil Minton (voice)/ Carl Ludwig Hübsch (tuba, voice)

If the voice is the most human instrument, is the tuba the most non-human? Nah, probably French horn (which could explain its scarcity in jazz and improvised music). Anyway, this set was an audience favorite: full of super-dramatic vocal exchanges (sometimes through the tuba, sometimes direct) that conjured hilarious scenes of kids playing, parents arguing, animals cavorting. Lots of whistling too. Hübsch’s stage presence was pure jokester – a perfect compliment to Minton’s impeccable timing and split-second shifts of tone and emotion.

Hübsch & Minton.  Photo by Karl Wendelin

They leaned into the silliness in a way that deepened its natural, true profundity, and I couldn’t help thinking what a great intoduction to improvisation this would be for children. Hübsch danced with his face, further amplifying the set’s mini-dramas. Minton doesn’t do things with his voice that you couldn’t do, making the experience of watching him feel accessible, even communal. They touched on multiple registers, from faux military chant to quasi-religious sanctimony – and everything came off as an invitation: to enjoy, to laugh, to delight in awe. The invitations were accepted by all.

Turquoise Dream: Carlos “Zingaro” (violin)/ Marta Warelis (piano/ Marcelo dos Reis (acoustic guitar)/ Helena Espvall (cello)

Between sets at the Jazzgalerie, things feel casual—people chatting, drinking, stretching and carrying on—but once the music begins, the atmosphere snaps into place. Focus tightens the stage with a kind of reverent immediacy: you can hear a bar glass clink from 50 meters away. The first sound that struck me in this final set was Espvall’s cello – echoey, but not hollow; open, ringing. Later she played a flamenco-inflected solo that became the highlight of the set for me; it was full of all the flair and constrained madness that characterizes the rhythmic complexity and tension of that music for me. Compelling.

At one point someone’s empty glass rolled on the stone ground; Warelis heard it and mimicked the rolling with a few churns through a high-end piano ramble – playful, uncanny. Attacking two corks placed wedged in his guitar strings with mallets, dos Reis was significantly more vicious with his guitar than I had ever heard him. He strummed it the way a dog barks. After one particularly manic onslaught, he picked up both legs and rolled back in his seat. Espvall watched, wide-eyed, with the same combination of encouraging esteem and total captivation that the audience seemed to share. (Her glorious solo followed soon after.) [Wow, it’s pretty amazing to write things and then get sent photos that perfectly encapsulate what you’ve already written]

Espvall & dos Reis.  Photo by Karl Wendelin

Overall, this was an odd set to close the festival—it felt a little fierce and eerie—but what else can you expect from a legend of textural expansiveness like “Zingaro” in a band with a bunch of young sonic form-twisters? When the final tones drifted away, I was struck by the sheer skill on display throughout the weekend: that ability to create sensitive, brand-new music, at any moment, at the drop of a hat. It’s honestly still astonishing to me, after many decades of listening.

The dance party that followed was particularly memorable, Risser on flute and Stewart playing shot-glass percussion along with the DJs for quite some time. The 45th incarnation is right around the corner. You can have this dance.

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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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