Jazz em Agosto 2024 (Part 3/3)

 

By Paul Acquaro

The Beats came into my life at the exact moment that they were supposed to. What had begun as an obsession with Bob Dylan in high school led me, by early college, circuitously to Jack Kerouac's On the Road, Lawrence Ferlinghetti's A Coney Island of the Mind, and William Burroughs's Naked Lunch. A road trip with friends at the end of junior year of college across the USA found us unintentionally hitting all of the spots that Keraouc had enthused about with his mix of jazz and proto-hipster prose, and the first part of the trip ended in San Francisco and included a giddy visit to City Lights Books.

The Beats, getting together at the West End bar on Broadway, across from Columbia University and setting out to create meaning in post-war America led to watershed moment in arts and culture. Yes, of course while the Beat attitude had its limitations as it was swallowed up by drugs, marketing and time, the way that they liberated words from stodgy sentences, took language in new impressionistic directions, and most of all, loved jazz, is a tree still bearing fruits of inspiration.

This is where Viennese sound-artist Dieb13 comes into the picture. Starting in 2020, The DJ, filmmaker, and composer created the Beatnik Manifesto, which channels its inspiration from the Beats into music and film. The combination of a large improvising ensemble playing against an abstract, narration-free accompanying film, like the best of the Beat art, captures creativity, passion, and existential questions in living motion. Broken into four movements, the Beatnik Manifesto is a modern day manifestation of life, music, and the artistic spirit. 

Dieb13 Beatnik Manifesto - By Vera Marmelo / Gulbenkian Música

On Friday evening in the Gulbenkian Foundation's large auditorium, the 14-strong group filled the generous stage against a black backdrop. Over the hum of the deep, reedy hum of Susanna Gartmayer and Hans Koch's bass clarinets and Anna Hogberg's alto sax, the mellifluous baritone of experimental vocalist Phil Minton introduced the manifesto. Previously performed with Minton's part as playback, this time he was in the flesh. "Hey beings, focus your audio and noodle it out, here comes the Beatnik Manifesto. One, beat is life, Beatnik you are," he intoned as a corporeal and sudsy reality played out on the immense film screen behind the musicians.

Crackling electronics emerged from the DJ's set up as the words of the manifesto echoed the lexicon of the Beats - "cats," "squares," and axiomatic phrases delivered in alliterative glory. A second vocalist, Karolina Preuschl, clad in black, contorted herself angularly along with the text and music. The band had begun to wail, and the imagery shifted from dishes being washed to a riverside landscape. The cellos bounced their bows against their strings as the woodwinds played a rising melody, the vibraphone tintinnabulated and a focused drum solo brought everything to head. On to movement two.

Through each of the four movements, the imagery was quite different. Fast jump cuts juxtaposing impressions of technology and consumer culture, clips of (presumably) the musicians at work and hanging out together, and a slow walk around Robert Smithson's Spiral Jetty on the Great Salt Lake in Utah followed respectively. Elephant like sounds from Minton, caterwauling tones and percussive rattles accompanied footage of a bleak estuary, and swirling, upbeat woodwinds greeted the audience in movement four. Sandy Ewen and Finn Loxbo's electric guitars could finally be heard and on the screen there was a glimpse of Allen Ginsberg. The music, at times dark and heavy, and the film, often light and quick, came to an end that left it up to the audience to ponder the work's connections and implications.

The second show of the evening was unexpected, from premise to presentation. Simply, never have so many heads nodded along to avant-garde compositions. 

The Locals - By Vera Marmelo / Gulbenkian Música

In 2020, the group, The Locals, released "Play the music of Anthony Braxton," a joyous re-thinking of Braxton's music, cast as funk. It was a recording from an appearance in 2006, something from pianist Pat Thomas' archives. The band, in addition to Thomas, is Alex Ward on clarinet, Evan Thomas on electric guitar, Dominic Lash on electric bass and Darren Hasson-Davis on drums, and while it was Pat Thomas who arranged the tunes, the sound of the band on the outdoor amphitheater stage this evening was effectively shaped by Ward's thrilling clarinet work and Evan Thomas' pure 80's funk guitar work.

The meter of the first tune seemed a bit uneven, or at least not straight ahead. Then, the guitar joined. After just a few notes, the sound round and heavily chorused, my mind went to We Want Miles with Mike Stern as a kind of inaccurate reference. Next came the clarinet. Ward's playing was breathtaking - maybe even literally - as the melodies came out in long unraveling threads. Some of his passages seemed like virtuosic finger exercises as he navigated knotty intervals and winding melodies, but his delivery was impeccably musical as he amplified Lash and Hasson-Davis' deep grooves with startling velocity. Finally, after the initial funk barrage cleared, Pat Thomas entered, eschewing specificity in his chords and working a harmonic rhythm with syncopated tonal clusters and joyful enthusiasm.

At some point the thought popped in my mind, is this too much of a good thing? Each tune was infectious and uptempo, rooted in Lash's fantastic electric bass work and Evan Thomas' bursting guitar solos and chunky rhythms. It was surely fun and musically rich, but it was also a sugar rush ... the brainy music of Braxton and the booty shaking-minded arrangements from Thomas was an unusual pairing, possibly best taken with a ballad to give the taste buds a little break. Interestingly, the encore began with a solo passage by Thomas that provided the exact thing that I had been craving.

This was an evening of music - between the sounds and images of the Beatnik Manifesto and the unrelenting funk of The Locals - that would reverberate for quite a while afterwards!

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Saturday began with a trip across the Tagus river to Almada, a hillside city that boasts the best views of Lisbon with a port that smells lightly of smoked sardines and offering a bevvy of places to eat them. Easily accessed by ferry from downtown Lisbon, or small regional train, a walk along the abandoned waterfront buildings can yield some interesting surprises, like a antique and crafts store, grungy looking partying, and even an elevator that scales the cliffs.

It was over here at the city museum, "Museu de Almada – Casa da Cidade", that I was able to take in an exhibition of photos by Alfredo Cunha, who captured many key moments of the Carnation Revolution 50 years ago. I was given a wonderful, personal explanation of the photos, the people, and the nuances of the struggle by a friend, which made the neatly organized presentation much more meaningful. The significance of the day, when the fascist regime was toppled, is a fascinating story and here it was shown with a gripping intensity in the black and white photos that began with the broader context of colonial Portugal, and then focused on Fernando José Salgueiro Maia, a captain in the Portuguese Army who led the revolutionary forces on the ground in Lisbon on April 25, 1974. It was an excellent exhibition, and though my experience was enriched by the personal tour, the photos themselves still carried a lot of meaning and symbolism.

And now a quick ferry ride from the port of Cachilas back to Lisbon and a ride on the Metro to the Gulbenkian for Saturday's first concert...

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Made of Bones - By Vera Marmelo / Gulbenkian Música

This early evening, in the small auditorium, the group Made of Bones offered up about an hour of some of the finest jazz-rock you can find. Sipping deep from the well of I Sing the Body Electric-era Weather Report and embracing the unique clang of the the Waldorf Zarenbourg - an instrument very close to the legendary Fender Rhodes - truly shaped Made of Bones' charismatic sound.

Hailing from northern Portugal, the quartet, an offshoot from the group Slow is Possible, who have an album on Clean Feed Records, is Duarte Fonseca on drums, Joao Clemente on electric guitar, Nuno Santos Dias on the keyboard, and Ricardo Sousa on double bass. Started in 2020, they have made several recordings together, a recent being Handgun on Phonogram Unit Records.

Regardless of where they come from or where they have been, they certainly played like there was no tomorrow. The rich and metallic keyboards and the punchy guitar work created a sound world within itself, and with the deeply intertwined drums and bass, it became clear that this was a group that very much lived the old Joe Zawinul adage, "everyone solos and no one solos."

After the vibrant intro, the music gave way to a long exploratory tumble. Episodic and always changing, what had begun with the gentle modulations of the keyboard slowly changed into a heavy riff driven passage. The music flowed from piece to piece, a vibrant collage of tone and rhythm that would often turn in a different direction just before reaching a particular peak. A spacey jam echoing old Pink Floyd edged into modern jazz, for example, and the group was able to keep the energy level high without boiling over until they reached the very end. 

Peter Evans, Being and Becoming - By Vera Marmelo / Gulbenkian Música

The later set of the evening, back at the amphitheater, was trumpeter Peter Evans' Being and Becoming. Formed by Evans' back in 2017 with three young, virtuosic musicians - vibraphonist Joel Ross, drummer Michael Shekwoaga Ode and bassist Nick Jozwiak - the quartet is essentially a showcase of the future of jazz. The group's music is accessible and melodic, the songs develop in arcs that see the musicians traversing fields of experimental sounds, swimming in rivers of rhythm, and climbing musical peaks.

The set began as the last bits of light faded from the evening sky and the world outside shrank down to the immediate surroundings. A soft thump of the bass and a gentle pulse from the drums set the music in motion. Then the vibraphone rang out and a driving hard-bop energy quickly solidified. Then, the trumpet came in with a simple four note theme answered by a fast and fluid walking bass line. The drums were blazing ahead, leaving little doubt to the direction and ferocity of the group's intent, as the trumpet's melodic lines grew more complex by the measure. Then, Evans stepped back and an astounding group interplay ensued, first with a kinetic bass feature, followed by a shift to the vibraphonist. Eventually, the mood shifted to one of mysteriousness, the tempo slowed, and the tune crumbled away.

A sense of total musical control, as did one of playfulness, permeated each tune. The bassist, without losing a beat, was smiling and laughing as he was kicking off the next piece, singing out loud the line he was about to play. Ross had switched from vibraphone to synthesizer, giving the group a different texture without any loss of momentum. The music, at points, took on different shapes too, sometimes experimental with each musician taking their instruments in unusual directions as well as delving into jazz, hip-hop and funk rhythms. 

Towards the end of the set, all four were firing quite hot, their individual voices strongly identifiable but blending seamlessly together. When it came to Evans' solo turn, his use of split-tones and multi-phonics served as a reminder of why his solo playing is so highly regarded. His turn here could almost be considered a concert within the concert, eloquent and complete in its own right.

In the course of the generous set, "Being and Becoming" did both of these things, embracing the traditions of jazz and taking it several steps farther.

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As the final day of concerts arrived, it was on the one hand sad to see it end, but on the other, it was also satisfying. The Jazz em Agosto team had done an impeccable job of finding and sequencing music that makes the festival, now in its 40th edition, a gem of the European festivals, and the post-show get togethers on the center's terrace gave everyone who cared to, from festival guests to the musicians, a chance to greet old acquaintances and make new connections.

But first, let's finish discussing the music before jumping to any conclusions ... 

Black Duck - By Vera Marmelo / Gulbenkian Música

The Gulbenkian's Grand Auditorium floor-to-ceiling windows were wide open to the gardens. The trio Black Duck, comprised of the Chicago based musicians guitarists Douglas McCombs and Bill MacKay, and drummer Charles Rumback, were spread across the wide stage, McCombs to one side, MacKay to the other, and Rumback in the middle. The space between them seemed a good metaphor for the wide-open American landscapes that their atmospheric music invoked.

McCombs, known for his founding role in the post-rock giant Tortoise, among other groups, began the set with a gentle sweep of the strings. McKay added arpeggios while Rumback played something between a steady beat and rhythmic texture - providing a lot of energy without pushing the volume. A more identifiable rock beat followed, stronger, chugging strumming from one of the guitars, and then it happened: McCombs started picking out a clearly formulated desert-rock riff that pulled the atmosphere together and situated the music clearly in the dry, open landscapes of the American West. As a grungier feel crept into the music, it felt like we were climbing to the top of a sandstone butte offering an open vista view over a Walmart parking lot with a red-toned sunset behind it. Dirty and beautiful.

In the next episode, we were racing our Indian motorcycles across the Bonneville Salt-flats outside of Salt Lake City (hmm, weren't we in this area just the other day with Dieb13?), the skyline finally in view after miles of unforgiving flatness. Following this was a 1950's flavored ballad, replete with longing twangs and rising melancholy.

The group's impressionistic music is captured well in the notes on their Bandcamp site:

Black Duck is a gallery of sonic tapestries, unbound by any genre constraints while also utilizing genre touchstones. Challenging what a trio of two guitarists and a drummer can do, pieces move from breezy shuffles to stormy blues rumbles to gorgeous textural drones.

I could not have said it better - the missing bass was really not missing at all, the high and dry sounds of the guitars dripped with a specific kind of nuance. One could think back to Mendoza and Fluke-Mogul's AM/FM set, which also drew on the desert-noir sound, but this was also different. Built rather on the group members' post-rock pedigrees and well-established musical signatures, Black Duck offered a stylized kind of music, whereas AM/FM were synthesizing the musical language into something new. Regardless, both sounded great and offered something unusual to the audience. 

Fire! Orchestra - By Vera Marmelo / Gulbenkian Música

The final show was also performed by the largest group - the 16 members of saxophonist Mats Gustafsson's Fire! Orchestra filled the concrete amphitheater stage with two drum-sets, pianos, electronics, and at least one representative from each section of a more traditional orchestra (though no bassoon). Front and center sat tubist Heida Karine Johannesdottir, which was possible to interpret as symbolic of the music - low, rich, and moving with gravitas.

Fire! Orchestra has gone through many incarnations over its 10 year lifespan. This evening, the orchestra was presenting their latest recording, Echoes, out on Rune Grammofone.

The music, like many free jazz big bands, is constructed around broad themes and solos from the various players. It makes sense, these are not traditional orchestras, rather these are improvisational strike forces, the music a vehicle for their attacks, and the Fire! Orchestra is a troop transporting tank. Echoes is built on big, big riffs, they move slowly, deliberately and repeatedly, clearing the playing field for maximum impact. It is colossal and one feels it as much as hears it as the tank lumbers forward. As powerful as this vehicle is, however, it is also quite nimble, there is a litheness to how it moves which keeps it from getting bogged down.

As the vehicle found its pace, Gustafsson himself introduced the first bit of friendly fire, setting off confrontational blasts at the slowly undulating melody with his baritone sax. When the melody changed slightly, it elevated the solo's energy even higher and lead eventually to the end of the first movement. The next song began with a solo by Swedish saxophonist Lars-Goran Ulander. He began melodically, then after several turns, veered in an atonal direction. When he reconnected with the whole group, they had gotten into a rather deep funk vibe, led by drummers David Sandstrom and Blanche Lafuente, and tubist Johannesdottir. A nibbly feeling violin solo provided the next bit of contrast, followed by one from saxophonist Anna Hogberg who began with some legato tones and then entered quickly into the upper extensions of the instrument's range. Guitarist Julien Desprez took a pure skronk approach, channeling his effort into playing his guitar like he was cleaning glass with a dry squeegee. Pianist Alexander Zethson, too, had a captivating turn as he provided the connection to the next movement. His playing sounded like the notes were decaying as he was playing, a bit like a warped record on a child's record player. Then, switching from synthesizer to piano, a cyclical passage led to the three notes of the next theme, drums and bass quickly stepping in to give it a strong push.

Vocal parts from drummer David Sandstrom with support from violinist Josefin Runsteen glided through the next few songs and were an integral piece of the crowd-pleasing arrangement of Chic's "At Last I am Free" whose arrangement was stripped of its saccharine tendencies and given a bit of the Fire Orchestra lumber.

It was a satisfying close to the 40th edition of Jazz em Agosto, and it was also one of those unusual free jazz concerts in which you leave with an ear-worm. So, to return to the earlier point, it indeed had been an excellent festival, featuring musical choices unafraid of challenging audiences, continuing to present experimental groups alongside the more established names of modern and free jazz. It is easy to imagine one looking back to these shows in a far off future wistfully saying "that is where I heard Ava Mendoza, and Darius Jones, and Fire! Orchestra play..."

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Read Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

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LDL (Leimgruber - Demierre - Lehn) - in the endless wind (Wide Ear, 2024)

By Eyal Hareuveni

The trio LDL - Swiss soprano sax player Urs Leimgruber and pianist Jacques Demierre and German EMS analog synth player and sound processing - emerged from the trio LDP - Leimgruber, Demierre and American double bass master Barre Philips - that worked for twenty years until its last concert in 2021 (Last Concert In Europe (At The Space Lucerne), Jazzwerkstatt, 2022). But the collaboration of Leimgruber, Demierre and Lehn has deeper roots, in the sextet SIX -later called 6ix, in the addition of Lehn to LDP (Willisau, Jazzwerkstatt, 2019), or the duos of Leimgruber with Lehn (Lausanne, For4Ears, 2009) and Demierre (It Forgets About The Snow, Creative Works, 2021).

in the endless wind is the debut album of the LDL trio, recorded at the Loft in Cologne in October 2023. The unique instrumentation - a juxtaposition of two keyboard instruments - the acoustic piano and the vintage analog synth, both technically coupled with each other for mutual sound processing - with the anchoring soprano sax of Urs Leimgruber at the center of the sound image leads to a poetic free improvisation based on deep listening, with trust and confidence, and enjoying the extensive experience of these idiosyncratic improvisations.

The four improvisations suggest highly imaginative and nuanced sound spaces - musical events of the individual and collective creative processes where every sound counts, and often LDL alternates between disrupting the space with chaotic and stormy dynamics or emptying the space into almost spiritual stillness, as it explores its way into enigmatic sonic transformations and spells. Or when LDL uses the space in which the creative act took place, including its acoustic qualities and the space-transforming presence of the audience. Leimgruber, Demierre and Lehn create austere and introspective, mysterious and highly immersive textures where the whispering sounds of the soprano sax resonate and sing with the otherworldly, vintage synth and with the touches on the piano keyboard. Often these individual universes gravitate into one magical sonic entity.

The motto of LDP was stop playing but don’t stop listening, a paraphrase of Henry Threadgill saying: stop playing but don’t stop the music. LDL expands this aesthetics. Listening is a statement, as the action of playing. Because LDL - like LDP - does not listen to something, it listens. Listening is the act and LDL produces listening. And what a masterful, poetic lesson in listening it is.

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Keefe Jackson/Raoul van der Weide/Frank Rosaly - Live at Tanker (Kettlehole Records, 2024)

By Gary Chapin

Keefe Jackson (tenor and bass clarinet), Raoul Van Der Weide (bass cracklebox), and Frank Rosaly (drums) give us a live set of reed trio that feels like it reaches back to the roots of this kind of music and also seems amazingly present. In the moment. In the room.

The first tune, “Oh, time thy pyramids,” has an Archie Shepp at Impulse! feel, which is a great feel to have. With “Going and caught, together,” the trio moves into the skrikkity sound areas, where free is as free does. “Going and caught, together,” Starts—after an intro—with a bass clarinet section, flirtations with swing carry it on a story arc. “Cruel is kept close” starts in a rumbly, mysterious, suspenseful place, with arco bass, shimmering cymbals, and foreboding (at first) bass clarinet. A reflective melody comes in and it ends up being a sweet, gentle 2+ minutes. The set continues thus, coherent, absorbing, and intriguing.

How odd is it that a record like this can provoke nostalgia in me? Not that I’m nostalgic for this kind of music—there’s never been paucity of fantastic free jazz, which this record is—but I’m nostalgic for the first time I listened to Archie Shepp's Fire Music, or the time I found the Wildflowers trilogy of loft recordings, or saw Sam Rivers play live. I remember being downtown, in those small rooms, when the music was right there.

I don’t mean to lay these associations on Keefe, Raoul, or Frank. They aren’t at all accountable to my history with the music. But for me, with Live at Tanker being of that heritage, it comes up.

It’s a fantastic set, and it’s right there.

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A L`armé! XII Finale (Day 3)

By Martin Schray

The last day of the twelfth and final A L’armé! festival was all about Monika Döring, an icon of Berlin’s cultural life. The German daily newspaper taz called her the “soul of the party“, Karina Merin claimed she was “the mother of Berlin’s experimental music“. Döring became legendary as the concert organizer of the Loft in the famous Metropol club in the 1980s. She died in May at the age of 87. Visitors to the festival knew her because her make-up and outfits immediately caught the eye. She also seemed to know everyone - and everyone knew her. Now pictures of her hung everywhere and photos were projected onto the screens as a tribute to Döring’s invaluable influence. Many of her favorite acts came together to create an evening of music in her spirit. The final evening was curated by her longtime friend Karina Mertin, who proclaimed the evening’s motto in her announcement - “Long Live Monika!“ - in her announcement.

One of Döring’s favorite acts in recent years has been the hÄK/Danzeisen duo. Bernd Norbert Würtz alias hÄK operates modular synthesizers and self-soldered circuits. Philipp Danzeisen plays drums augmented with triggers and sensors. Ultimately, this duo is something like the philosophy of the festival in recent years. The classic free jazz duo with sax and drums (i.e. melody and rhythm) has been shifted towards electronics and rhythm, meaning textures and percussion. In this duo the electronics are crass and shrill (a reminiscence of the first day of this year’s festival), there were initially short snippets that pop up and whizz through the room, only to quickly disappear again like evil spirits that have gone astray. Sirens, kamikaze planes, full-brake cars, rotors, gongs, echoes, blows on metal, permissive ricochets - the duo offered all of this that night. A promising start in the evening. 

Even though Monika Döring liked electronic sounds, she remained attached to rock music - as long as it was uncompromising in attitude, energetic and massive in sound, like that of Caspar Brötzmann. The Wuppertal guitarist and bassist already was a guest at previous festivals and initially played a solo set before bassist Farida Amadou joined him. Brötzmann transferred the Hendrix approach he used on guitar to the bass, using trills, feedback and harmonics and hiding small melodies behind the dark surfaces. With Farida Amadou, a portion of funk and funk was added, especially through the use of a wah-wah pedal. This gave the music rhythmic shifts - e.g. accelerations and delays. Monika Döring would have loved it.

The musician of the evening who was most closely associated with Monika Döring was certainly Gudrun Gut. She was one of the first members of Einstürzende Neubauten in the early 1980s, was active at the Geniale Dilletanten festival and founded the bands Mania D, Malaria! and Matador. The central platform for most of her activities is the label Monika Enterprise, which is not called that for nothing. As an overture, Gut presented a mix of folk music sounds, pop, accordion samples and New Wave - it almost sounded like a modern mass. But then it continued with techno and disco house, with echoes of the 1980s (Malaria! and D.A.F.) - my very young seatmate called it hopelessly old-fashioned. But the audience gladly accepted the invitation to dance and the light show supported this, so that it looked as if the whole hall was jumping. Gut herself is well aware of the pop music approach of her gig and one wondered whether she was not the real exception in all this weird, unconventional music. In any case, she delivered a stringent 30-minute set, which the audience celebrated with lots of applause. 

 

Then you really had to hurry to get a good seat for the next set (Sven-Åke Johansson on drums and Jan Jelinek on modular synthesizer). In view of a packed program, this was a real point of criticism. The audience was chased back and forth between the two venues, as they were not allowed to take drinks into the Hall, but had to make sure they had water due to the poor ventilation in the smaller Saal. Musically, it was once again a clash of electronics and drums, but completely different from the first set of the evening, which was mainly due to Johansson’s lively drumming. The man is one of the central protagonists of European free jazz of the 1960s, and at over 80 years of age he’s still active in a wide variety of contexts and collaborations. Johansson has been playing together with Jan Jelinek, a kindred spirit in the field of electronic music, since 2017. The duo unites two generations and two sound languages that share a common sensibility. Johansson is imbued with the anarchic spirit of jazz and also relies on obscure, sometimes absurd ideas, while Jelinek knows how to constantly re-contextualize the microtextures of rhythms and sound. It is astonishing how elegantly Johansson, who only got on stage with the help of a walking stick, can play. At the same time, Jelinek gave the music plenty of room to breathe and Johannson plenty of room for free development. Perhaps this duo is the best example of what A L'armé! has achieved over the years: The combination of the first generation of free jazz with a new generation of electronic and noise artists. One of my festival highlights!

Back in the bigger Hall, there was a duo set of two artists of the raster label - Frank Bretschneider and Olaf Bender a.k.a. Byetone. Here, too, there is a connection to Monika Döring. In the late 80s, she was interested in music from the GDR and came across the avant-garde pop of AG Geige. In the early 90s, AG Geige developed into a nucleus for electronic music: the label raster, which continues to have a significant influence on the global techno scene. Frank Bretschneider and Olaf Bender (both raster artists) are exemplary for this development and were among Monika Döring’s favorite acts. Bretschneider’s gig initially was reminiscent of Aphex Twin’s Selected Ambient Works, the music was almost without beats, but there were heavy basses that made the floor vibrate. The whole thing reminded me of hailstones hitting the ground. As there was no audiovisual support, the focus was clearly on the music. Only towards the end did the beats come in, providing a perfect transition to Byetone’s gig, which was generally a nod towards Berlin’s club culture. Parts of the festival took place at the famous Berghain Club in the past - and these two gigs would certainly have fitted in better there. The hall emptied out at first, but then filled up again towards the end of the gig - another sign of club culture. Musically, Byetone’s set was interesting, but also tiring.

Keiji Haino, who performed one of his legendary solo sets, concluded the concert in the hall. Pure expression between meditation, ritual and departure into the unknown - that’s what it was about. It was a real break with the two techno sets before, because Haino initially worked without beats, it was more performance art than music. When he used his voice, you could listen to a person in extreme agony, at brute volume, with frequencies that almost exceeded what was reasonable. But then he would seamlessly switch back to Japanese avant-garde pop as if it were the easiest thing in the world. He also works with blatant dissonances that overwhelm parts of the audience. When he switches to the guitar and plays very simple, open chords for a long time, it is again reminiscent of Japanese folk tunes. Haino showed the full range of his spectrum, especially when he finally stepped on the distortion and brought the crass sounds back in through the back door.

Grischa Lichtenberger, Robert Lippok/Lucas Gutierrez and Electric Indigo concluded the festival in the Saal, but I decided to call it a day with Keiji Haino.he last evening was a worthy farewell for the festival and for Monika Döring. A L'armé! rarely made it easy, that's what made the festival so exciting. We will all miss it. 

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See: Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3

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A L`armé! XII Finale (Day 2)

By Martin Schray

The second day of the festival started with Louis Rastig’s last festival introduction, and this is another fact that can make you wistful, because Rastig’s announcements were always pleasantly different from those at other festivals. This one, in which he summed up the entire program for the day and which was naturally a little longer, was the man in a nutshell, so to speak. Again and again he took breaks in which he seemed to lose the thread, but that has always been part of the program, because it resulted in almost cabaret-like passages, which always provided laughter and excitement. The fact that he always paid attention to the correct pronunciation of the artists’ names and always introduced even the members of the largest orchestras perfectly was an added bonus. However, he also made it clear - despite his appreciation of the sponsors - that the funding would not have been enough to keep the festival at this level in the coming years.

Økse

 The day got off to a musical start with Økse, an eagerly awaited band with Savannah Harris (drums), Petter Eldh (bass and electronics), Val Jeanty (electronics) and Mette Rasmussen (alto saxophone). The quartet, founded by Harris and Rasmussen in 2022 on the occasion of the Saalfelden Jazz Festival, guarantees through its name (it’s Danish for “axe“) that they want to let it rip here. In addition, the day was the release date of their first album, on which the quartet collaborates with some of the hottest hip-hop artists at the moment, namely Elucid and billy woods (aka Armand Hammer), and fellow Brooklynites Maassai, and Cavalier. Musically, despite the electronic reference and a certain volume, the music seemed more accessible than the noise attacks from Day 1. The strongest moments of the gig were when Eldh relentlessly stuck to his bass loops and Rasmussen was able to improvise over them. Then the band almost played themselves into a frenzy. In the best moments, listeners could lose themselves in a witches’ brew of hip-hop beats, dub splinters, free jazz solos, samples and techno. But of course it would also have been interesting to have the rappers on board. 

Then the audience had their first move to the neighboring hall, where Ephemeral Fragments & 1:∞ Gordoa/Czerniawska were already waiting, seated in a circle (Lena Czerniawska was unfortunately unable to attend for personal reasons). In terms of their musical philosophy and seating arrangement, the quartet was indeed more reminiscent of a string quartet playing new classical music. This ultimately made it clear that this day was to be about other musical contents than the day before, as the focus here was more on subtlety and close listening. Synthesizer virtuoso Korhan Erel, Florian Walter on the Tubax, some sort of contrabass sax, and cellist Emily Wittbrodt came together at a spontaneous performance about five years ago and were joined here by Emilio Gordoa, a vibraphonist who has been an integral part of the Berlin Echtzeit scene for years. The music of the project was carried by the slightly shimmering drones of tubax and cello, which gave the whole thing an otherworldliness that could almost be described as spiritual. In addition, it lived from the very different timbres of the instruments, which ultimately made one think of the music of the spheres or the compositions of György Ligeti. 

Although the temperatures in Berlin are pleasant, the audience rushed outside because - it has to be said - the ventilation, especially in the hall, did actually not exist. It was brutally hot and stuffy. Nevertheless, after an excursion into the fresh air and the necessary hydration, we returned to the hall, because I Like To Sleep (a Norwegian trio consisting of Amund Storløkken Åse on vibraphone and electronics, Nicolas Leirtrø on baritone guitar and Øyvind Leitø on drums) were also eagerly awaited. From the very first second, it was clear that the musical diversity of the evening would be expanded by another splash of color - jazz rock hasn’t been heard on this year’s festival. The baritone guitar literally made the floor shake and the grooves were danceable almost throughout. A fact that the audience accepted very gratefully, even if the volume and sound frequencies of the mellotron and vibraphone in particular were borderline. The music was reminiscent of Bushman’s Revenge, Black Sabbath, Tool, but also jazz/krautrock bands such as Fire! or Steamboat Switzerland, the solos and feedbacks were sometimes heavily overdriven, heavy rock chords and drum eruptions did the rest. But there were always recognizable melodies, which the band cleverly hid. However, the highlights were not so much the speed metal attacks, but the quieter pieces that presented the band’s musicality. What was more, there was a nice moment at the end of the set. Leitø’s drums slipped and he asked the others to continue playing just to skillfully maneuver himself back into the piece. The set was definitely a crowd favorite. 

The fourth set of the evening brought the surprise of the first day back on stage: Baritone saxophonist Sofía Salvo, who held her own against Kenji Haino and Paal Nilssen-Love, presented her latest project, Yexxen, and the band celebrated its world premiere on A L'armé! In Yexxen, Salvo bundles further energies with Claire Nico on guitar, Guido Kohn on bass and Bobby Glew on drums and electronics. The band literally makes no compromises and brings a punk approach to the jazz/noise/metal they play. The fact that Bobby Glew shouted like crazy also added a touch of madness to the whole thing. The project is therefore similar to the Boredoms, the Flying Luttenbachers or New York No Wave bands from the 1980s. Although the music was quite stressful, the audience liked it a lot. 

As is sometimes the case at festivals, however, some people have no resources left for the after-show set. Naaljos Ljom, a Norwegian duo that develops its music from the interplay of mouth organ and the zither-like Langeleik with electric guitar, synthesizers and drum computer, was highly recommended by Louis Rastig in his introduction. The band themselves call their music “folk-synth-dance music“. Unfortunately, it fell victim to my exhaustion. But I’m sure the remaining party people had a great time. 

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See: Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3

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Stephen Gauci - Sunday Interview

Photo by Peter Gannushkin

1.  What is your greatest joy in improvised music?
   
   
   My greatest joy in improvised music, and music in general, is FREEDOM. When I’m playing music, the freedom is absolute. Like a bird, I am free. Unbound.
   
   
2. What quality do you most admire in the musicians you perform with?
   
   I admire FREEDOM in any musician/human being. To be clear; Only a free human being can perform free music. It’s just that simple. In NYC I have met only a small handful of musicians that I would say are free human beings. Freedom is rare and precious.
   
   
3. Which historical musician/composer do you admire the most?
   
   I don’t play favorites with dead people. Life, and music, are for the living. My favorite musicians are the ones that are alive today. Anyone alive, is superior to anyone dead. The worst living musician is superior to the greatest dead musician (because they are DEAD).
   
   Only academics worship the dead.
   
   Jazz musicians have a morbid fascination and habit of digging up dead bodies and rubbing up against them, in the hopes of attaining some kind of “magic”... selfish concept as usual.
   
   I am not one of those.
   
   
4. If you could resurrect a musician to perform with, who would it be?
   
   Again, I would never wish to resurrect anyone. Let the dead rest please.
   
   It is a scathing indictment against the jazz establishment/industry/academia (and they are all one and the same now, joined at the hip. There is no jazz outside of academia), that so much emphasis is put on the dead. Dead people, and dead music. Even their selected “jazz stars” are expected to bow down before the dead. These kids appear on the cover of downbeat, and five minutes later they’re making “tribute” recordings to dead people. This is because the industry/academia, that made them a “star”, actually has no confidence in them.
   
   
5. What would you still like to achieve musically in your life?
   
   I would like to be an example of how a truly free artist/human being can exist in this world. I was brought up to be a selfless, generous individual (mandatory qualities for freedom).
   
   Unfortunately, I’ve found that it is not possible to be a kind, generous, selfless person, let alone be a free human being, within the jazz tradition. So I stand alone and apart from any tradition (hence; “gaucimusic”).
   
   I hope to clear a path through the “forest”, so others have an example of how to exist as a free, creative human being in this world.
   
   
6. Are you interested in popular music and - if yes - what music/artist do you particularly like?
   
   I have no interest whatsoever in popular music. If you look at “popular” people in general, they are mostly frauds. Who was the most popular kid in your high school? Probably an idiot. Donald Trump is VASTLY popular. So was Hitler. I put jazz “stardom” in the same category as “pop” musicians. But they are even more ridiculous, as their puffed up “stardom” is dependent on a small pool of 12 year old downbeat readers and summer family festival goers. Who cares. Or as Miles put it “SO WHAT”.
   
   
7. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?
   
   I still have a temper. I could do without that.
   
   
8. Which of your albums are you most proud of?
   
   I’m proud of everything released on “gaucimusic recordings” (over 60 releases in the past three years). The label is a grand statement of artistic freedom. I put out the music, when and how it demands to be. No one has any power to shut me down. Total freedom. I neither ask, nor need permission from anyone.
   
   
9. Once an album of yours is released, do you still listen to it? And how often?
   
   In general, I never listen to my recordings once released. Recordings are for people that are not fortunate enough to be able to hear the music live.
   
   When I was a child in the suburbs, I listened to lots of recordings. I live in NYC now, with great musicians growing between the cracks in the sidewalk.
   
   Besides, I’m too busy creating TODAY’S music, to listen to my old stuff.
   
   
10. Which album (from any musician) have you listened to the most in your life?
    
    Hmmm.. not exactly sure. But I’ve listened to A LOT of Coltrane in the past.
    
    I’m really not one of these “my apartment is filled with jazz recordings” cats...
    
    I am not, nor do I care to be, a “jazz scholar”. I would never take a “blindfold test”. That’s kiddie stuff.
    
    I just create stuff… not a popular proposition in jazz these days. I’m a performer, not a record collector.
    
    
11. What are you listening to at the moment?
    
    I’m listening to my colleagues here in NYC! All music is local. It really is…
    
    
12. What artist outside music inspires you.
    
    Van Gogh. Not because of his art (which of course is great.. although bastardized. I mean, does anyone really think he meant for his work to be plastered on coffee mugs?).
    
    I admire Van Gogh, because he exposed the lie at the heart of all art traditions.
    
    He was rejected because he was a) very religious, b) very poor c) very “strange”. NOT because he was “mentally ill”. The art industry drove him to that. They only wanted curly french mustaches, and rich guys painting water lilies and screwing their 15 year old models at that time. Someone like Van Gogh, a truly free/spiritual human being could never ever be accepted into the established arts community at that time, or in this time. He would embarrass all the other artists/middle (money) men…
    
    We all know that’s the truth about Van Gogh.
    
    And being a LEGALLY DEAF (yes, that is correct) musician myself, I understand exactly how lame people can be that way. If there is anything “strange” about an artist (that can’t be somehow written off as “hip” or “eccentric”)... the establishment will have nothing to do with that person. I know the “funny looks” one gets from personal experience. The arts community is only open to THEIR APPROVED eccentricities.
    
    If you’re “strangeness” falls outside of that… well, you're shit outa luck.
    
    Unless you're gauci and you make YOUR OWN luck. 

Stephen Gauci on the Free Jazz Blog:

• Stephen Gauci Post-Lockdown Round-Up
• Solo sax - The Overview I
• William Hooker - Big Moon (Org Music, 2021)
• Guitar - Duos (Part 1): Leading tones, sympathetic harmonies, and unobservable mysteries
• Piano sax duo
• Dancing in Times of Plague - an Updated Listing
• Stephen Gauci, Kirk Knuffke, Ken Filiano - Chasing Tales (RelativePitch, 2014) ****
• Kris Davis - Capricorn Climber (Clean Feed, 2013) ***½
• Michael Bisio Quartet - AM (CIMP, 2010) ****
• Stephen Gauci, Kris Davis, Michael Bisio - Three (Clean Feed, 2010) ****½
• Michael Bisio Quartet - Live At The Vision Festival XII (Not Two, 2009) ****
• Looking back on jazz in 2008
• Stephen Gauci's Stockholm Conference - Live At The Glenn Miller Café (Ayler, 2008) ****
• Anthony Braxton & Joe Morris - Four Improvisations (Duo) 2007 (Clean Feed, 2008) *****
• Stephen Gauci - Absolute, Absolutely (CIMP, 2008) ****½
• Stephen Gauci Trio - Substratum (CIMP, 2007) ****
• Stephen Gauci's Basso Continuo - Nididhyasana (Clean Feed, 2007) ****
• Michael Bisio - Circle This (CIMP, 2007) ****

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Jazz em Agosto 2024 (Part 2/3)

 

By Paul Acquaro

 

It is Monday night at the amphitheater stage in the Gulbenkian gardens, there is a light breeze, the temperature is a bit cooler than the proceeding days, it's rather nice and relaxed. Then, the saxophone squalls, the drums jerk and the bass shudders. The band on stage is named MOVE, but it's obvious that it is not a noun in this context, no, MOVE is an imperative: MOVE!  

MOVE, by Petra Cvelbar / Gulbenkian Música

 

The Portuguese trio is a powerhouse of controlled energy. Tenor saxophonist Yedo Gibson may be the one making the announcements and pushing the melodic concepts, but there is no front-man here, each member is equally involved with making MOVE move. Drummer João Valinho can be brutal in his attack as well as deftly supportive, accenting the right moments and leaving space where needed. Electric bassist Felipe Zenicola slyly commands, however, some serious attention - his approach to the bass is utterly unique, in fact there is hardly a template that comes readily to mind. He seems to split his lines into fractals, inserting rhythmic ideas into the most surprising places. 

 

Musically insistent and heavy hitting, they also have a litheness that allowa them to go in unexpected directions at the spur of the moment. Their music is entirely improvised, which can be surprising when considering how tightly they segue from one section to another. A run of the scales with an akimbo cadence slams into a jittery bass line, and then turns at a moments notice, morphing into a blast of sound with gut wrenching velocity, and then just as quickly, lands in a calm passage. It's quite okay to wonder how they do it, and in fact, I asked. Valinho, after the feisty set, explained that the group does not prepare or compose any of their music, but they do signal to each other while playing. The signal is simply an indication that the signaler is going to change something up, follow if you want. 

 

MOVE has two recordings out on Clean Feed records, however, you'll never hear the same piece of music twice.

 

--

 

Metro Art

A pleasure of the Jazz em Agosto festival's programming is that there is ample time left to explore the city. In previous years that an invitation has been extended my way, I've made sure to document my touristic discoveries. From the must-dos like riding the 28-Tram and visiting the Castelo de São Jorge, to traveling to the nearby mountains of Sintra, there is just a lot to do and see here (here is a link to find these stories). This time around, my explorations took me to the giant Jesus monument perched over the river, an exhausting bike ride over the Sintra mountains to the Cabo da Roca rock formations at the edge of the continent, and also to the museum of Portuguese artist Julio Pomar. 

 

A remarkably productive artist for eight decades, Pomar was born in 1926 and died only in 2018. His relationship with Portugal seemed a bit fraught, he had been imprisoned for a short while by the Salazar regime and he left Portugal in the 1960s for Paris, but his love for the sights and colors of the city is evident in many of his pieces. The museum, the Altelier Museu, is tucked away in a side street near the foot of the hill that leads to the Barrio Alto neighborhood and is just a tumble out of the 28 Tram or a short walk from several metro stations.

 

After walking around the tiled entrance, adorned with his sketches of snails and some small men with impressive penises, you enter the beautifully renovated museum space. A large open room contains the current exhibition which also continues upstairs to a loft area. The current show is called "Revolutions 1960 - 1975" and showcases how his work evolved from impressionistic works to pop-art and back. The pieces - mostly paintings but also some sculpture - are captivating.

 

But, now back to the musical program ... 

 

The Selva, by Petra Cvelbar / Gulbenkian Música

Tuesday night's show was the Portuguese band The Selva, also on the Clean Feed label. It was during was the ersatz pandemic festival, Jazz 2020 at the Gulbenkian Foundation, that the Selva came into my life, and the musical rush I felt when I first heard them has remained with me. The chance to hear them again was something I was eagerly anticipating.

 

Their concert began with a gathering of sound. They were presenting their 2023 album Camarão-Girafa (reviewed here) and began with Gonçalo Almeida's acoustic double bass presenting long, flowing bowed tones, creating a primary layer. Nuno Morão's drums were subdued at this point, providing some texture through the cymbals, and Ricardo Jacinto's cello made some agitated tones. The feel was heavy, the music droned with sudden sharp attacks and long anticipated chord changes. It was, so to say, palpable. A jump in the cello's register gripped the shoulders, an unexpected scrape of the bow against the bass strings stiffened the spine. Then, after the first wave of tension crested, Jacinto began plucking out an arabesque melody. Slow and controlled, electronics added random glitches into the music, stuttering notes and disrupted flow changed the simple musical structures.

 

Later, the drums picked up the pulse and led the music to more steady grooves, giving the cello a chance to expand on the small melodic units that had been building up cyclically. A noisy section followed, the group digging into their carefully crafted sound world of extended techniques and sensitive acoustic amplification. A bit later in the set found the three all playing their respective instruments percussively, Jacinto holding the cello in his lap and tapping it and Almeida using marimba mallets on his strings.

 

A piece in the second half of the show was arresting in its unfolding beauty (a word I try to avoid, but it truly fits here). The melody was severe, dissonant to the point of stomach dropping (like going over a sudden hill in an automobile while sitting in the back seat), and as the bass billowed, the drums kept everything securely fastened to the stage. The set eventually came to a resolution so complete that it was hard to imagine them performing an encore, but they did, recapturing the charged atmosphere in short order.

 

--

 

The Brandon Seabrook Trio, by Petra Cvelbar / Gulbenkian Música

 

Wednesday night saw the return of the international focus with guitarist Brandon Seabrook's trio with drummer Gerald Cleaver and bassist Pascal Niggenkemper subbing for Cooper-Moore - not a simple task as the home-made instruments that Cooper-Moore builds and plays with this trio are somewhat primitive but also devastatingly effective. Niggenkemper, however is also an astute music explorer, and able to both emulate Cooper-Moore's instrumental approach and also add a bit of his own embellishments, like employing light covers that can change-up his instrument's sound. With this adventerous mind-set, he fits perfectly with Seabrook, who himself combines an impulsiveness with a unique approach to his instrument. 

Seabrook works with scraps of music, slips of sound, crumbling notes and unpredictable choices, leaving a lot to the others to help shape. On the outdoor stage this evening, it seemed that Gerald Cleaver did a yeoman's effort locking down the rhythmic directions.

 

There is also a component of recklessness at play as well. For example, Seabrook picked up an LP, announced that they released an album a few years ago, then flung it haphazardly into the audience. Then, he did the most reckless thing of all: he switched to banjo, which may actually be illegal in the EU (full disclosure: I love the banjo, I've owned and played several in my life, but now reflecting on it, it was also perhaps during a somewhat reckless period as well). Regardless, Seabrook's approach to the instrument is very rhythmic, there is no claw-hammering or finger rolls, rather he plays it like a guitar, and its very metallic twang made for a wonderful complement to the group's sound. On the next tune, Seabrook upped the ante and applied a bow to the banjo's strings, which somehow sounded like an accordion.

 

It was a musically wild show. Extended techniques were the norm and the strong, almost tribal pulses of the bass and drums held it together, allowing the different musical shapes and sounds to come together in some rather extraordinary moments.

--

Darius  Jones, by Petra Cvelbar / Gulbenkian Música

The mid-week stretch came to a close on Thursday evening with saxophonist Darius Jones' presentation of his latest release, fLuXkit Vancouver (i̶t̶s̶ suite but sacred) (We Jazz / Northern Spy Records). Commissioned while the NYC based saxophonist was at a residency in British Columbia, the pieces of the suite reflect the concept of the Fluxus art movement from the 1960s and 70s, which emphasized the process of creating art equally with the results. While I am not sure exactly how this was reflected in the performance this evening, during an announcement, Jones glanced up at the sky and in reaction to the rumble of a passing airplane, remarked how "this is a Fluxus moment."

 

Regardless, the music was riveting. In addition to Jones' own expressive and often joyful playing, the string quartet plus drummer Gerald Cleaver was stunning. It was, at times, easy to believe you had come to just hear the strings alone, as the presentation of the music by violinists Jesse and Josh Zubot, cellist Peggy Lee and bassist James Meger was raw, focused, and sometimes even jarring in its intensity. As a whole, they brought the opening track of the album 'Fluxus V5T 1S1' to a rousing peak. The next movement of the suite began with the violinists tapping rhythmically on their instruments' bodies while Lee bowed longer tones and Meger rattled the bow between the strings, under the bridge. Then, Jones began to play beyond the upper registers of his instrument. The piece unfolded in layers, the melody climbing over large intervallic gaps, as Cleaver added percussive accents rather than a steady pulse, both propulsive and striking.

 

The next piece 'Rainbow,' dedicated to an important figure from the Vancouver arts scene, began with a textured solo from Cleaver. He was eventually joined by a slow moving bass line, before the strings came in, coloring over the lines made by the drum and bass. Lee then played a gorgeous solo, unassuming and sonorous, followed by a bass solo that ended in a sea of applause.

 

The final segment of the music was introduced by Jones as being based on the story of Damon and Pythias, which is essentially a tale of trust and friendship. It started out as the most avant-garde of all the pieces, eventually coalescing into a melodic cycle before Jones jumped in with a frenetic and kinetic solo. The denouement was a moment to savor. The strings had settled into a gently flowing passage as Jones began to wander away from the microphone, his amplified sound quite strong, carrying easily throughout the amphitheater, playing an expressive and tender melody.

 

Phew.

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Read Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

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A L`armé! XII Finale (Day 1)

By Martin Schray

Knowing that this will be the last A L’armé!, you enter the festival grounds, a little wistfully. Stumbling straight into musicians (Paal Nilssen-Love waving from afar), record dealers (Gerd Busse from No Man’ Land) and festival directors (Louis Rastig), who are all very relaxed at the wonderful location, the Radialsystem directly on the Spree river. Everyone - especially the audience - seems to want to enjoy the festival one last time. Even the weather is perfect (not as brutal as in summer 2018, when you were almost barbecued in the halls).

A L’armé! has not really been a stabilization or confirmation machine of what was already known, as the festival’s liner notes say. Maybe it was like that at the very beginning. Rastig and Karina Mertin, his partner in crime in the program design, have always sought new paths, allowed uncertainties, created movement. The program always wanted cross-connections between music and audiovisual art, the music should create collaborations and encounters between different, challenging styles. Uncertainty was the program. 

 This can best be seen in the audience: it is more international and diverse than ever. You can hear French, Italian, English anyway, Polish, Japanese, the audience is younger than at comparable festivals. This is all thanks to Rastig and Mertin.
 

 

On the first day, the focus was to be on noise and electronics, as it turned out. The day began with a double concert by Leila Bordreuil, who performed on the cello and various electronic devices, and Steffi Narr/Oliver Steidle and Saou TV. Bordreuil immediately delivered a thoughtfully structured set that began with lots of feedback and drones. It quickly became clear that she was expanding the possibilities of her cello not through playing techniques, but primarily through volume and noise. When she then switched from Tangerine Dream-esque ambient techno passages to shrill, fiddling noise, strongly reminiscent of a brutal version of Lou Reed’s Metal Machine Music, it was too much for some festival-goers. They possibly joined the wine bar on the first floor. Bordreuil finally let her piece literally implode and then returned to the drones from the beginning. All in all, a clear, cleverly structured performance.

Steffi Narr on guitar, Olli Steidle on drums and Saou TV as V-Jane then directly followed Bordreuil’s performance. For their performance at A L’armé!, the two musicians collaborated for the first time with multimedia artist Saou TV, who expanded the musical dialog into the visual dimension with live projections. However, the techno effect of the first performance was reduced to almost zero by Steidle’s drums, especially as they sounded very tinny and reverberant. Nevertheless, this project also focused on noise and electronics; there were constant drones in the background that form the necessary surfaces for improvisations. The improvisation in the first part was structured by three recurring chords that Narr constantly incorporated. However, when she brought the guitar to the fore, you can hear echoes of Sonny Sherrock’s playing or that of Ava Mendoza. The second part of the performance was then much more contemplative, Narr used the violin bow and the visuals by Saou TV lost the icy coldness and comic quality of the first part in favor of alienated images of nature and clouds.

Then the audience had to move from the hall to the auditorium to see Antumbra. Elias Stemeseder and Christian Lillinger could be heard on their regular instruments (keyboards and drums) as well as on electronics - the common denominator of the first evening with noise. Sampling, serialism and film music all play a role in Stemeseder’s and Lillinger’s performances. Their pieces, created on drums and piano, various keyboards, spinet, synthesizers and samplers, unfold in disharmonious progressions, through rhythms that always seem to disassemble themselves. As a continuation of their previous projects Umbra and Penumbra (respectively: shadow and half-shade), Stemeseder and Lillinger go one step further with their latest work Antumbra (pre-shade). Lillinger often crumbled Stemeseder’s loops, their music was brittle, blatantly abstracted compared to the two performances before, there was much less noise to be heard, the approach being a much more subtle one. Their music also had an unmistakable psychedelic character, there were echoes of Krautrock (Faust) and references to early Pink Floyd, AMM and last but not least Sun Ra. If you needed a label, crazy space music on drum’n’bass would perhaps fit the bill. Christian Lillinger was almost unstoppable, nothing could keep him on his drum seat, he kept jumping up, jerking left and right. His twirls happened at the speed of light, it was hard to believe that there was no machine at work here. The set was definitely an early highlight of the festival.

Back in the hall, the main act of the evening followed: Japanese guitarist Keiji Haino, who was a guest at the first A L'armé! festival with Peter Brötzmann, performed together with baritone saxophonist Sofía Salvo and Paal Nilssen-Love, who has become a regular festival guest over the years. One could expect brutal noise attacks alternating with unpredictable outbursts (a Haino specialty) from the Japanese-Argentinean-Norwegian collaboration. The wall of amplifiers behind Haino already indicated enormous volume - and you weren’t disappointed. Nilssen-Love’s set was augmented by several gongs and Salvo struggled to combat these two monsters with her sax, but by initially taking on more of a bassist’s role, this was hardly noticeable. Haino was the star of the evening, feedbacking and droning, but also letting the Hendrix out at times (“Foxy Lady“). Salvo finally stands up to it and shows that she can also play the fire blower. In the second part of the set, Haino sings more, the trio shows a softer, almost tender side that would be very suitable for a Tarantino film. All in all, the three delivered a noisy orgy of metal, drone rock, free jazz, Japanese pop, Tibetan meditation music and sheer madness. A worthy end to the first day. 

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See: Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3

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