[ronnie scott's | 29 september 2009]
Although I try to keep up with developments on the British contemporary jazz scene, new bands can and do regularly slip under my radar. Led Bib is one such band, only recently brought to my attention by a Mercury Prize nomination and this gig at Ronnie Scott's.
Ronnie Scott's is a fairly small, intimate venue – a traditional jazz club in many respects. It is not really the place you would expect to see the latest jazz-punk outfit. But Led Bib seem to be all about breaking conventions. Their loud and often distorted fusion of jazz and rock certainly got a reaction, but on the whole it was a positive one, give or take a few confused faces.
It took me a while to get into the set – as I think it did them too – but by the third number, a take on a composition by Satie, I was sitting up and paying attention. The line-up of two alto saxes, keys/piano, electric/acoustic bass and drums is somewhat reminiscent of Seb Rochford's Polar Bear. However, when you strip away the brash, heavy surface sound, Led Bib's music is more soulful; haunting sax melodies and plaintive keys harmonies are often only discernable at points when the frantic drum rhythms and driving bass lines dissipate.
For me, the second half of the set contained some real gems. By this point, the band had got the measure of the venue. Tight yet grungy grooves underpinned battling sax lines that only occasionally converged. Particularly memorable was Zone 4, a piece about growing up in North London by alto player Chris Williams.
So, a late discovery – Led Bib have been around for 6 years – but a good one. The high octane music interspersed with band leader and drummer Mark Holub's quirky comments in Ronnie Scott's genial atmosphere made for an enjoyable evening.
[london astoria | 12 december 2008]
I've been listening to the music of Tom Squarepusher Jenkins since the album Feed Me Weird Things was released back in the early 90s but I had never quite got around to seeing him live (excluding a short set at the South Bank on computer with no trademark live bass). Terrible, I know, but there we go. So, having heard about a London gig promoting his new album, I decided to change that.
After being made to queue around the block to get into the Astoria despite having tickets, we entered to the sounds of LFO. His DJ set was a blend of old and new, some recognisable tracks, some not. On the whole, the selection was enjoyable; some numbers were a bit heavy for my tastes but there were plenty of appreciative heads up the front.
To get a better view for Squarepusher, we headed upstairs and positioned ourselves at the front of the balcony. From here we could clearly make out the setup: two laptops, a variety of guitars and pedals, assorted other kit and, behind a light grid, a drum kit. This last item was of interest because I wasn't expecting any live drumming and it posed the question of whether it would be played by Jenkins or someone else.
Having worked the crowd into a frenzy by nipping onto the stage a couple of times to tweak bits of kit, Jenkins finally appeared ready to start his set. The first thing I noticed was the light grids: it was hard not to, really, as they seemed powerful enough for an outdoor rig.
Musically, everything was in order. The backing tracks clicked along nicely and Jenkins' bass playing was as awe-inspiring as I had hoped it would be: fast, furious, funky... The set included two of my all-time favourites – the crisp, grooving Hello Meow (from Hello Everything) and the anthemic, yet strangely twee, A Journey to Reedham (from Big Loada), which always puts me in mind of 80s computer games.
But what of that drum kit? Well, that was sadly something of a letdown. A drummer – not Jenkins – did take to the stage for the middle section of the set. However, the resulting numbers were my least favourite; overly-distorted guitar and heavily-bashed drums formed a wall of sound that drowned any samples and lacked clarity or definition. The drummer clearly had chops, playing rapid drum & bass rhythms very solidly, but lacked a lightness of touch that would have given this section more of a jazz feel than a rock one. Ultimately, the three or so tracks all blurred into one for me, which is not a good sign.
The venue wasn't great but that didn't matter much. The goal was finally to see one of my favourite electronic musicians working his wizardry. That done, I can go back to enjoying his many diverse and excellent albums on my iPod – but now with the occasional flashback of strobing lights and blurred fingers.
[kings place | 20 november 2008]
Live remix is not a particularly new concept but it does seem to be gaining momentum. Artists on the Norwegian jazz scene, forward-thinking as they are, have been experimenting with this medium for some time, and the annual Punkt festival in Kristiansand has played host to some interesting unions of musical thought and expression. I have not been to Norway but my all too lackadaisical attitude that all good music must eventually come to London paid off once again when the Punkt festival took up a brief residence at London's newest music venue, Kings Place.
This was a first for me on two counts: I had not yet checked out Kings Place and I had never heard any of the artists play live. The evening was divided into four sections – two live sets in the main concert hall, each immediately followed by the remix in the second hall. This gave me the chance to see both the music halls at this impressive new venue and to stretch my legs between sets.
In the main concert hall, smart wooden panels line the walls. The lower level has tiered seating and there is also a gallery that runs around the whole room (empty on this occasion). The second, smaller room is far more informal. It is wider than it is long and the audience stand around wherever they like, much like at venues such as the Jazz Cafe. Drinks are allowed in here but strictly forbidden in the main hall. Both are on the lower level of the development, along with a small bar and foyer; upstairs boasts a couple of restaurants and an art gallery.
The first set – featuring Arve Henriksen on trumpet, Jan Bang on electronics, Morten Qvineld on piano/keyboard, Erik Honoré on electronics and Eivind Aarset on guitar – bore all the hallmarks of contemporary Nordic jazz: evocative, plaintive melodies accompanied by electronic textures and broken beats were interspersed with more minimal, abstract solo improvisations. Henriksen's range of timbres was impressive and his high falsetto singing, utilised towards the end of the set, was at times hauntingly beautiful.
The remix was, unfortunately, somewhat disappointing. Tim Elsenburg (accompanied by two friends) took a small section of the live set and slowly built it up, layering it with itself plus his own voice, which was not that dissimilar to Henriksen's. I suppose my problem here was not with the interpretation, per se, but the lack of contrast. To have an ambient set remixed by an ambient artist was, in my mind, not the best way to programme a gig like this.
The second live set was kicked off by saxophonist Håkon Kornstad, whose strong technical abilities – circular breathing, slap tonguing, split notes – were put to good use in a few highly musical improvisations. He was then joined by Eivind Aarset on guitar, Wetle Holte on drums and Audun Erlien on bass to form a quartet. This was the standout section of the evening for me: powerful, driving post-Bitches Brew fusion with slick grooves and mesmerising improvisation from Aarset.
Again, the remix failed to impress. Vocalist Sidsel Endresen was interesting to listen to but I just didn't feel that the elements from the original set were put to best use by electronic wizards Honoré and Bang.
So, an evening of fascinating music at an exciting new venue that I am sure I will return to many times. However, not, for me, a gig that showed the strengths of live remix. There were two more events in the series that, sadly, I couldn't make but perhaps if I had, I might have hit upon a remix that really impressed.
[prom 71 | royal albert hall | 8 september 2008]
[london philharmonic orchestra | royal festival hall | 24 september 2008]
September was a month of premières by the contemporary British composer Mark-Anthony Turnage. At the Proms, his Chicago Remains was given its European première by the Chicago Symphony Orchestra under Bernard Haitink. Then later in the month, the world première of Mambo, Blues and Tarantella – Concerto for Violin formed part of a programme of modern works performed by the London Philharmonic Orchestra under the Russian conductor Vladimir Jurowski.
I am familiar with the music of Turnage, particularly his earlier works, having played several pieces with my local youth orchestra. It may seem unusual – not to mention adventurous – for a youth orchestra to take on such compositions. I believe that the main reason was that our conductor at the time was a good friend of Turnage. This also meant that the composer often attended concerts, rehearsals and once even came on tour with us. What the orchestra may have lacked in technical experience (and, in fact, the standard was fairly high; several former members have gone on to become professional musicians) was made up for in youthful enthusiasm and energy, both of which are important in interpreting Turnage's rhythmic, richly-textured sound.
Turnage seems to have mellowed as he has matured. The jazz influences in his music have grown stronger &ndash Blood on the Floor, his gritty 9 movement suite that features a jazz trio, stands out for me as a groundbreaking work of jazz-classical fusion – while the edgier, almost violent, passages of his earlier works are not as angry and vicious. Nonetheless, his trademark raw, dense orchestrations are still very much evident.
Chicago Remains begins and ends with his classic percussive stabs, here used to hint at the industrial history of the city. From this foundation, the composition develops a melodic line and soon builds into a busy mix of sounds, suggesting daily life in Chicago. Later sections thin out and are often blues-tinted, another reminder of the city's roots.
The second half of the Prom saw Haitink drawing a marvellous performance of Mahler's Symphony No 6 in A minor out of the orchestra. A few minor imperfections aside, this was a powerful, moving and well-conceived rendition of this epic symphony, the feat all the more impressive given Haitink's advancing years.
The London Philharmonic Orchestra's gig was also very good but both the venue and the programme made for a more light-hearted evening. Following a technically perfect take on Vaughan Williams' Symphony No 8 in D minor, the German violinist Christian Tetzlaff stepped to the stage for Mambo, Blues and Tarantella: here we found Turnage in jazz-mode again. The mambo is characterised by the syncopated rhythms of the dance, with plaful, whimsical passages for the solo violin. The middle bluesy episode is highly lyrical and evocative, juicy jazz harmonies featuring throughout the accompaniment. The final tarantella's compound rhythms and counter-rhythms took me back to my youth as I remembered attempting to play groups of 7 against 5 in one of Turnage's earlier pieces.
Ligeti's Atmosphères kicked off the second half. This study in timbre and texture almost had me in a trance; although only a short composition, I can imagine a huge amount of concentration and effort is required on the part of the performers to create the cloud-like form that evolves and dissolves over the space of about 10 minutes. Interestingly, Jurowski then decided to segue into the final piece of the programme, Stravinsky's The Rite of Spring. Here, of course, the Russian was in his element and a fantastic, hugely enjoyable version of this masterpiece ensued.
[sadler's wells | 24 august 2008]
Gang rivalry, stabbings and shootings. Racial tensions, a police force with no control, and a society that absolves youths of responsibility for their own actions.
I could well be talking about London in the early 21st century; in fact, these themes are central to West Side Story, set over 50 years ago in Manhattan. Lines like "Juvenile delinquency is purely a social disease" (from Gee, Officer Krupke) make one realise that the modern malaise currently plaguing Britain may not be quite so modern after all. I don't remember having these thoughts the last time I saw West Side Story – but that was when I was a child and I was probably far too busy enjoying the singing and dancing. Even if I had been mature enough to consider such things, I doubt the show would have seemed to mirror contemporary concerns quite as acutely as it does now.
Generally, it was all much as I remembered. I had forgotten about the strange white scene for the song Somewhere; admittedly, choreographer Joey McKneely has been very faithful to Jerome Robbins' original, but he could perhaps have toned down the sickly sweetness of this dream sequence. Elsewhere, however, the action was superb, with great playfulness at "the dance" and vicious realism in the fight sequences.
I was also impressed by the casting. Ryan Silverman put in a solid performance as Tony and he has a voice that is perfectly suited to this style of music. Sofia Escobar's Maria is convincing in her youthful naivety, although her singing voice was a touch too operatic (and therefore powerful) in my opinion. The real star of the show, for me, was Lana Gordon, whose Anita provoked the most laughter and horror; at times I found it hard to understand the words she was singing but that was overshadowed by her wonderful acting.
Overall, it was a thoroughly enjoyable performance. Perhaps if I wait another 15 or so years before I next see West Side Story, I won't have cause to ponder any haunting reflections of life as it is then. However, I think that unlikely: though the frequency and amplitude may vary, a timeless story such as this one, that has captivated audiences since Shakespeare's day, will probably always resonate with the times.