Yesterday was International Jazz Day, commemorated with a star-studded gala in Istanbul and notable releases from Aaron Parks and Darcy James Argue. The Montreal Jazz Festival took Tuesday morning to announce their full ticketed programming for this year's edition. Many of the big shows had already been announced. I'm truly impressed with the depth of this year's jazz programming. There's maybe less obvious marquee names than usual, but the quality of the music-making is probably among the highest of the past ten years I've been following the festival.
For out-of-towners (and Montrealers who don't really follow the jazz scene), the Jazz d'ici series - 6 pm at L'Astral - is a must. From trumpeter, composer and Oddsound label founder Jacques Kuba Seguin on June 28, to the Jensen family (saxophonist Christine Jensen invites trumpeter Ingrid and organist Gary Versace on July 1; saxophonist Joel Miller, Christine's partner, brings his Latin-tinged Honeycomb band the 3rd), the series is a fantastic overview of the contemporary straightahead community in town, and is worth the discovery. There's some new projects in the lineup this year - saxophonist André Leroux, often heard on Festival stages as a sideman, leads his own band for the first time on June 29; Chet Doxas has re-convened his band Muse Hill (June 30), which unites bassist Morgan Moore with the leading lights of Montreal's indie rock scene including Joe Grass and the Barr Brothers; and pianist Marianne Trudel brings her relatively new project, Trifolia, on July 4.
I was a little late to the press conference, and walked in just as they announced that their Invitation Series would be curated by Charles Lloyd for the first half and Vijay Iyer for the second half. I was stunned. Lloyd is not someone I thought would be on the short list for the Series, though he's more than deserving of the honour. He'll hold court in Théâtre Jean-Duceppe with his quartet (June 28), with the Sangam trio of Eric Harland & Zakir Hussain (June 29), and in duos with Jason Moran and Bill Frisell (June 30). Iyer's series will be in my favourite room, Salle Gesù, presenting his trio, with Justin Brown on the drum throne (July 4), duo with Craig Taborn (July 5), and solo piano on the 6th.
Now that those two universally strong series are out of the way, let's go chronologically:
June 28
6 pm: Jacques Kuba Seguin's Odd Lot (L'Astral - see above)
6 pm: Charles Lloyd Quartet (Théâtre Jean-Duceppe - see above)
7 pm: Sienna Dahlen (Savoy du Metropolis) - Sienna is a vocalist who wraps around lyrics and is a supreme collaborator. She's been the voice on Paris-based drummer Karl Jannuska's last few discs and also appears on guitarist Mike Rud's forthcoming Notes on Montreal. Her own recent disc, Verglas, is a stark beauty befitting its name.
8 pm: Chucho Valdes & The Afro-Cuban Messengers (Théâtre Maisonneuve) - part of the dynasty of Cuban piano, son of the late Bebo and father to Chuchito, Valdes is one of the standard bearers of Afro-Cuban jazz. I've never seen him live.
9 pm: Tia Fuller (L'Astral) - best known as a sax player in Beyoncé's band, I first heard Tia at a jam session at Cleopatra's Needle in NYC, and she laid down that hard-driving alto sound. I haven't, unfortunately, heard her records as a leader, but now is the opportunity.
9:30 pm: Ravi Coltrane (Jean-Duceppe) - I would say that Coltrane's latest album, Spirit Fiction, is among his strongest. This is absolutely the time to hear him.
June 29
6 pm: Charles Lloyd Sangam (Jean-Duceppe) - see above
7 pm: Wayne Shorter 80th Birthday Celebration (Maisonneuve) - there's many other great shows happening this night, which is truly unfortunate, because this triple-bill is unquestionably the place to be. First up is Joe Lovano and Dave Douglas' Sound Prints quintet, indebted to Wayne without directly playing his tunes (and read Dave's insights into Wayne's new record); second is pianist Geri Allen - who I admittedly have not paid enough attention to over the years - with Esperanza Spalding and Teri Lyne Carrington; and the finale is Shorter's quartet. Now re-signed to Blue Note, Without A Net is another compelling live document of this band, who after a decade together are now more telepathic than ever. Go see this concert.
9:30 pm: Jason Moran's Fats Waller Dance Party (Jean-Duceppe) - why is this the same night? Moran's relationship to stride piano (cf. his solo piano album Modernistic) has always been riveting to me, in the vein of his mentor Jaki Byard. The clips of this show - featuring the enigmatic Me'shell Ndegeocello - were fascinating. Another one of those painful Festival conflicts.
10:30 pm: Goldings/Bernstein/Stewart (Gesù) - why is this the same night? This organ trio have been a working band for two decades, I guess, and the rhythmic hookup between Larry Goldings and drummer Bill Stewart is one of the great pleasures of 21st-century jazz.
June 30
6 pm: Muse Hill (L'Astral) - see above
6 pm: Charles Lloyd with Jason Moran & Bill Frisell (Jean-Duceppe) - see above
7 pm: Elizabeth Shepherd (Savoy du Metropolis) - I've known of Elizabeth since her first album, Start to Move. Her original tunes are full of groove and the way she recasts standards is provocative, as heard on her last album Rewind. The intimacy of Savoy is the perfect spot for her.
8:30 pm: Rhye (Metropolis) - the latest project from Danish producer Robin Hannibal (also responsible for Quadron) has been on my to-hear list for a while.
9 pm: Youn Sun Nah (L'Astral) - publicist extraordinaire Matt Merewitz hipped me to this Korean singer, whose repertoire is vast and varied, from standards and Korean folk songs to Metallica and Nine Inch Nails.
July 1
6 pm: Christine Jensen with Ingrid Jensen & Gary Versace (L'Astral) - see above
7 pm: Elizabeth Shepherd (Savoy) - see above
9:30 pm: David Murray Infinity Quartet (Jean-Duceppe) - Murray, the big-sounding saxophonist, has been working with the texts of Ishmael Reed for years, with the instantly recognizable voices of Cassandra Wilson and Bobby Womack, among others. Add the idiosyncratic soul singer Macy Gray - yes, that Macy Gray - to the list. The Conjure records of the late '80s have been a predilection of mine recently so I'm terribly curious to hear this.
10:30 pm: The Bad Plus (Gesù) - it's the Bad Plus. At Gesù.
July 2
8 pm: Thus:Owls (Musée d'art contemporain) - led by guitarist Simon Angell of the Patrick Watsons and vocalist Erika Angell, this ephemeral group has been gaining lots of well-deserved buzz.
9:30 pm: Kurt Rosenwinkel New Quartet (Jean-Duceppe) - The tandem of Kurt with pianist Aaron Parks is such a beautiful, textured sound. Kurt is one of my favourite improvisers and composers and has indelibly influenced how musicians in my generation, especially guitar players, approach our craft.
10:30 pm: Steve Kuhn Trio (Gesù) - I'm sadly not as familiar with pianist Kuhn as I should be. The trio is rounded out by bassist Steve Swallow and drummer par excellence Joey Baron. Excitement should ensue - Swallow and Baron should make for an incredibly responsive and sensitive rhythm section.
July 3
6 pm: Joel Miller's Honeycomb (L'Astral) - see above.
7 pm: Vieux Farka Touré (Club Soda) - the son of legendary Malian guitarist Ali Farka Touré, this is a night of electrified African music that is firmly "ancient to the future."
8 pm: Dr. John/Leon Russell (Maisonneuve) - my passion for New Orleans piano is no secret. Nor is my love for rootsy piano pop, of which Leon Russell is the forefather. This is a true double-bill with both Mac and Leon performing full length sets. It's gonna be a long night of Southern style piano.
July 4
6 pm: Vijay Iyer Trio (Gesù) - Vijay has not compromised his art at all, but it seems like the rest of the world has caught up to him. His last stretch of records on ACT are, each of them, truly ear-opening gems. I'm curious to hear Justin Brown in place of Marcus Gilmore.
10:30 pm: Charlie Hunter/Scott Amendola (Gesù) - 7-string guitarist Hunter is known for playing bass and guitar at the same time. He's had a longstanding partnership with drummer Amendola, who also plays with sonic wizard Nels Cline. After all my years of admiring Hunter, I've still never seen him live, and in this stripped-down scenario in my favourite room, I can't think of a better way.
11 pm: Fitz and the Tantrums (Club Soda) - "Breaking the Chains of Love" grabbed my attention the first time I heard it. Their forthcoming album, More Than Just a Dream, takes them out of the '60s into the '80s and '90s. This will be a party.
July 5
6 pm: Vijay Iyer/Craig Taborn (Gesù) - two polyglot pianists with impeccable technique, rhythmic virtuosity, and wide-ranging musical interests. If memory serves, these two played together with Roscoe Mitchell's Note Factory. The mention of this duo's premiere last summer immediately sparked my interest and I'm fascinated by this pairing.
10:30 pm: Tim Berne's Snakeoil (Gesù) - I missed Snakeoil when they played Casa del Popolo last year. Pianist Matt Mitchell is firmly in the lineage of Iyer and Taborn. Frankly, this is the most shocking booking of the festival. I never thought that I would read "Tim Berne" - a highly modernist saxophonist/composer/improviser - and "Montreal Jazz Festival" in the same sentence. As an aside, I think it's imperative that this show be a resounding success in ticket sales, if we want to ensure that this kind of creative programming continues at Jazz Fest. Since the "contemporary" series got axed a few years ago, much of the left-of-centre improvised music has had no space in the programming. Second to the Wayne Shorter celebration, this is my most anticipated show of the festival, without question.
July 6
6 pm: Vijay Iyer solo (Gesù) - see above.
8 pm: Leif Vollebekk (Musée d'art contemporain) - Even though I'm friends with many people who have played with Leif, I haven't really heard him outside his guest turn with Karkwa on CBC a little while ago. He's quickly becoming the face of the Montreal indie community, and from what little I've heard, rightfully so.
10:30 pm: Antonio Sanchez Migration (Gesù) - Sanchez has been here multiple times, playing drums with Pat Metheny (when the robots aren't doing it for him). I'm thrilled to check out his own group, featuring another fantastically influential composer, David Binney, pianist John Escreet, and Matt Brewer on bass.
July 7
8:30 pm: The Specials (Metropolis) - break out the two-toned shoes, these ska legends are in town. Honestly, the ska scene has never been on my radar, but I know Montrealers love their ska so this will be a show to remember.
10:30 pm: John Abercrombie Quartet (Gesù) - in all the times guitarist Abercrombie has performed at the festival, I've still never been able to see him. He is one of the quintessential ECM guitarists, whose output never flags or falters. Joey Baron is once again behind the drums - perhaps this festival is an unspoken Joey Baron invitation series? - with Drew Gress on bass (one of my absolute favourites), and saxophonist Billy Drewes.
Wednesday, May 01, 2013
Sunday, April 21, 2013
From the French Quarter to le Quartier Latin
My trip to New Orleans was inspiring and revelatory. Some of the mystique of that city was stripped away - contrary to popular belief, Bourbon St. is not where it's really at. There were also some very stark lessons to be learned from that city, compared with my hometown of Montreal. One could argue that these are similar lessons to be learned from New York as well; maybe it's the French connection but they hit home a lot harder on this trip.
The most striking thing is that every club I went to in New Orleans was a pleasant listening experience, on multiple levels. Every club had a diligent sound man on hand. I think I heard feedback once at d.b.a, and that was it. Every club also had great sightlines and a layout that directed one's attention to the stage. Even from the very back of Maison, where I couldn't see much, I could hear the band clear as a bell. None of the clubs ever felt cramped or hard to navigate. Only a handful of venues had the stage at the front, in a window (which seems to be the trend in Montreal for some inexplicable reason). Even d.b.a, which has a bar that extends into the show room, didn't feel constrained, and it didn't bottleneck the way Montreal clubs can. There was also an etiquette among most audience members - outside of one late-comer who planted himself in front of everyone else at Jon Cleary's set for maybe two songs at the most, people were very aware of their surroundings.
All the clubs were open, in the sense of being able to sit if you wanted to sit and being able to stand and dance if you should so desire. I didn't go to Snug Harbor or Irvin Mayfield's Jazz Playhouse, the more conventional jazz clubs in town, so I can't vouch for whether that's universally the case. It's a great feeling as a listener, because it's not dependent on keeping the dancers on their feet, nor does the setting of the club impinge upon people's instinct to dance.
Contrary to the perception of New Orleans running way behind the beat, most shows (the Open Ears set at Blue Nile and the Trio at Maple Leaf excepted) started more or less on time (given a margin of error). Jon Cleary's set was called for 7, and he started at 7:15. Same with "Wolfman" Washington and the two outdoor shows, and the jam at Maison. Even at the Leaf, guitarist June Yamagishi was running late, but since the sound guy had already set everything up (and George Porter Jr. and Terrence Houston were ready to go), he only needed to plug in. Minutes after his arrival (and very close to the 11:00 hit time the bartender told me), they were onstage playing.
The most striking thing is that every club I went to in New Orleans was a pleasant listening experience, on multiple levels. Every club had a diligent sound man on hand. I think I heard feedback once at d.b.a, and that was it. Every club also had great sightlines and a layout that directed one's attention to the stage. Even from the very back of Maison, where I couldn't see much, I could hear the band clear as a bell. None of the clubs ever felt cramped or hard to navigate. Only a handful of venues had the stage at the front, in a window (which seems to be the trend in Montreal for some inexplicable reason). Even d.b.a, which has a bar that extends into the show room, didn't feel constrained, and it didn't bottleneck the way Montreal clubs can. There was also an etiquette among most audience members - outside of one late-comer who planted himself in front of everyone else at Jon Cleary's set for maybe two songs at the most, people were very aware of their surroundings.
All the clubs were open, in the sense of being able to sit if you wanted to sit and being able to stand and dance if you should so desire. I didn't go to Snug Harbor or Irvin Mayfield's Jazz Playhouse, the more conventional jazz clubs in town, so I can't vouch for whether that's universally the case. It's a great feeling as a listener, because it's not dependent on keeping the dancers on their feet, nor does the setting of the club impinge upon people's instinct to dance.
Contrary to the perception of New Orleans running way behind the beat, most shows (the Open Ears set at Blue Nile and the Trio at Maple Leaf excepted) started more or less on time (given a margin of error). Jon Cleary's set was called for 7, and he started at 7:15. Same with "Wolfman" Washington and the two outdoor shows, and the jam at Maison. Even at the Leaf, guitarist June Yamagishi was running late, but since the sound guy had already set everything up (and George Porter Jr. and Terrence Houston were ready to go), he only needed to plug in. Minutes after his arrival (and very close to the 11:00 hit time the bartender told me), they were onstage playing.
The amount of focus and respect that New Orleans and Louisiana place on their local artists is astounding. The French Quarter festival is almost exclusively local acts (with one stage devoted to "locally-inspired international groups"), and Louisiana Music Factory is devoted to their homegrown music, with a dedicated "NEW ORLEANS" vinyl bin or three. There is a New Orleans Jazz Historical National Park - complete with rangers in their hats - that direct you towards all things New Orleans jazz. The Old Mint on Decatur & Frenchmen has been converted into a museum and concert hall. The current exhibit celebrates 50 years of Preservation Hall, including Louis Armstrong's original cornet. This support of local artists is almost too much. The New Orleans Jazz Fest website states: "The Festival respectfully limits applicants to bands living and working in Louisiana," which frankly is a joke, looking at the full programming of the festival (Le Vent du Nord, from Quebec? Eddie Palmieri? Billy Joel? Fleetwood Mac?). While I take issue with that statement because it's patently untrue, the Jazz & Heritage Fest's dedication to local artists is admirable, with artists from Louisiana accounting for the vast majority of the programming.
Some of these are more easy to achieve than others. It's definitely a wake-up call for Montreal. I know musicians have griped about these issues in private for generations. We can do something about it.
Set your tail on fire
I made my first pilgrimage to New Orleans this past week. New Orleans is one of three personal musical beacons, the others being Brazil and Cuba. I felt it important to soak up the traditional music, the brass bands, the piano heritage and the gutbucket New Orleans funk courtesy of the Neville family and their compatriots. I also saw a good amount of music that I didn't expect from New Orleans.
After some of the best airport food ever - in a layover in Houston, eating some good Texas BBQ - we landed at Louis Armstrong International Airport. The taxi co-ordinator wasted no time in chiding us that we were a day late for French Quarter Fest, a free weekend of music that takes over the entire French Quarter and rivals, even possibly surpasses, the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival for the amount of great local music they present. I made my way to the hostel in the Garden District, passing massive murals for Zatarain's and various companies using jazz to sell their product. Honestly, after a week, seeing jazz this and jazz that for things that have absolutely nothing to do with the music became a little overbearing and tiresome. It was novel at first, though.
Monday night was round one on Frenchmen Street, the renowned music drag in the city. I have never seen that many live music clubs crammed into such a small space (maybe two or three blocks). I had read about the jam session at Maison, which also had a great menu of traditional Cajun and Creole food, even though it's overpriced. That was our ultimate destination, but some of the clubs on Decatur Street like BMC and Vaso demanded our attention with their great live music too. Another tradition, outside of music, is red beans and rice on Mondays. Maison serves theirs with options of adding fried chicken and/or alligator sausage. I'm still not sure it was worth the $10 as opposed to the $4 other joints on Frenchmen were selling their beans & rice for, but it was still fantastic nonetheless.
The band playing the dinner set at Maison was saxophonist, clarinetist and vocalist Aurora Nealand, leading a group through some great trad tunes, including some Bessie Smith and Louie Prima. It beat the pants off the trad bands that parade through the Montreal Jazz Fest. The sousaphone player was phenomenal, too, possibly the highlight of the group. In general, all the sousaphonists I heard in New Orleans were stronger than the bassists I encountered, with the exception of George Porter Jr. At the jam session, the house sax player and guitarist carried the weight of the band, both with credible singing voices (the saxophonist took a Louie Prima tune and the guitarist covered the Neville's "Yellow Moon"). Bonus points for the guitarist rocking a Hannah Montana purple axe all evening! The drummer was good, and was also competent on the busted baritone horn hanging on the wall of the club. The bassist was coming out of a rock bag and was rather stiff (as was the case for the bassists who sat in after him). The first jammer was a drummer from Fargo, North Dakota, who was charged with playing a second line so the host drummer could solicit tips. He said he could play a second line, but he was either nervous or an outright liar, with a feel that hiccuped more than a drunk tourist on Bourbon Street. Perhaps that made the host gun-shy about inviting up unknown white people to play. It took my travel buddy, bassist Mark Haynes, reminding the host about his sign-up list, for him to call me up. I relieved the house keyboardist - who was a great singer and a good blues player - for a good majority of the night. It was a true thrill to be playing on Frenchmen Street my first night in town.
On Tuesday afternoon, after visiting Loyola campus, Mark and I headed back to the source: Congo Square. The birthplace of all #BAM, the place where free people of color were allowed to congregate on Sundays and play their music. It bleeds into Louis Armstrong Park, decorated with multiple gorgeous statues and cement blocks inscribed with the names of New Orleans music legends. It is truly an inspiring and important place in which to set foot. Tuesday night, I made a point of visiting Twitter friend Jeff Albert's Open Ears music series at Blue Nile. It featured drummer/bandleader Justin Peake at the helm of some of the city's great improvisers, including bassist James Singleton (from Astral Project) and Aurora Nealand again, this time on saxophone and accordion! It seemed like most people that night doubled: the tenor player also had an analog synth, the percussionist spent most of his time on various electronic gadgets, Singleton also sang. Poet Moose Jackson narrated non sequiturs (both improvised and written by Peake) over the music. It was easily one of the most riveting out music shows I've seen in a long time, with immense musicality and deep listening happening. There were moments of Frisell's mix of anthemic, folk melodies that were subverted by various sonic treatments and noises. Clearly, the community around Open Ears is a fertile one, and a subset of New Orleans music that is probably a surprise to most people who don't follow Jeff on Twitter. One girl planted herself in front of the band on a bar stool, and was performing interpretive dance to the improvisation. She appeared to be a regular at Blue Nile.
Wednesday, I went down to Louisiana Music Factory. with the mission of grabbing local records that I could not find back home. I scored a couple of New Orleans funk compilations with the likes of Eddie Bo, Ellis Marsalis' Syndrome, a compilation of James Black tracks, and a CD issue of various live James Booker cuts. I also stumbled across a Venezuelan salsa record and an old-school Brazilian samba compilation that I couldn't turn down. Unfortunately, as I discovered when I got home, my long walk through the French Market with these records in my bag caused them to warp a bit. They're still playable, though! After having some phenomenal gumbo for lunch (the Brit to the table beside mine called the chicken & andouille concoction "the closest thing I've had to a religious experience"), I walked back through the Quarter to Congo Square to sit and write. Heading uptown along Rampart St, I wound up at the Little Gem Saloon, watching pianist Joshua Paxton give a master class in all things New Orleans piano. Paxton has done all the published transcriptions of James Booker, Professor Longhair, and Dr. John, and clearly has mastered that language, with a monster stride left hand that would make Ethan Iverson proud, as Paxton played a mashup of Fats Waller and Scott Joplin.
Some elderly gentleman in the Treme, as well as the staff at the hostel, told me about the free Wednesday concerts in Lafayette Square. By some kind of happenstance, the band was David Shaw and the Revivalists, a group I had just discovered the week before thanks to video of Shaw guesting with Galactic on their last tour. The park was full of food vendors from across town and a stage was set up, emblazoned with the New Orleans Saints logo. It seems the Wednesday concert series is sponsored by the Saints. In addition to their fantastic swamp-rock, complete with pedal steel and yet another multi-instrumentalist playing keys, trumpet and providing backing vocals, it appears Shaw has a tendency to take off his shirt at every show. I was standing beside a massive betting pool of people who had wagered upon how long it would take Shaw to disrobe (official time: 60 minutes). From there, it was back to Frenchmen Street to witness blues legend Walter "Wolfman" Washington. I remember when I discovered Wolfman, thanks to the early web radio stream of Radio Free New Orleans, and later, WWOZ. It was great to be there, up close and personal, at one of his Wednesday night residencies at d.b.a. Added perk: d.b.a. has possibly the largest beer list in the city, including some of my favourite brews such as Brooklyn Lager, Rogue Dead Guy Ale, and Unibroue's Ephemère Pomme. I ordered a St. Ambroise Apricot Ale, with my default Anglo-Montrealer accent, and the bartender took about 15 seconds to register what I had asked for.
Thursday, I headed the furthest downtown in my trip, to the Bywater neighbourhood for Euclid Records. I went in looking for some more New Orleans funk, and wound up getting a William D. Smith record produced by Allen Toussaint with James Booker on organ, as well as another volume of Kip Hanrahan's collaboration with Ishmael Reed, Conjure. I picked up one volume of this on my last trip to NYC, and I was pleasantly surprised to find its companion in New Orleans. Round four of the French Quarter awaited with another open-air festival, this time in Armstrong Park. More fantastic food, and music provided by a young up-and-coming brass band followed by the jam-band nostalgia of Flow Tribe. The event was hosted by percussionist Bill Summers, who has lived in New Orleans for 20-something years. It was an unexpected surprise.
Jon Cleary is probably the most well-known advocate of New Orleans piano history. Every Thursday that he's in town, he does a solo piano set at d.b.a. I got there early to absorb every note of this masterful player, and he dealt some serious history lessons. I had forgotten Earl King wrote "Big Chief" (not Professor Longhair), which he then took through three keys, and I had never heard Smiley Lewis' "One Night of Sin," which was cleaned up into Elvis' "One Night With You." From the Allen Toussaint covers to Cleary's originals, the dude just oozes effortless soul and class, decked out in a white suit with matching wide-brimmed hat.
From there, I hopped in a cab back uptown to the venerable Maple Leaf Bar, where drummer Johnny Vidacovich holds court every Thursday night. Johnny V subbed this one out, so it was Terrence Houston behind the kit with funk legend George Porter Jr (of the Meters) and guitarist June Yamagishi. I was initially disappointed, as I really wanted to hear the deeply swampy, "in-the-cracks" hookup that Johnny has with George, and Houston's youth and considerable chops meant everything turned into an extended drum solo. In the second set, though, Houston brought out the street beats and nailed them. A fitting nightcap to a trip filled with inspirational music.
After some of the best airport food ever - in a layover in Houston, eating some good Texas BBQ - we landed at Louis Armstrong International Airport. The taxi co-ordinator wasted no time in chiding us that we were a day late for French Quarter Fest, a free weekend of music that takes over the entire French Quarter and rivals, even possibly surpasses, the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival for the amount of great local music they present. I made my way to the hostel in the Garden District, passing massive murals for Zatarain's and various companies using jazz to sell their product. Honestly, after a week, seeing jazz this and jazz that for things that have absolutely nothing to do with the music became a little overbearing and tiresome. It was novel at first, though.
Monday night was round one on Frenchmen Street, the renowned music drag in the city. I have never seen that many live music clubs crammed into such a small space (maybe two or three blocks). I had read about the jam session at Maison, which also had a great menu of traditional Cajun and Creole food, even though it's overpriced. That was our ultimate destination, but some of the clubs on Decatur Street like BMC and Vaso demanded our attention with their great live music too. Another tradition, outside of music, is red beans and rice on Mondays. Maison serves theirs with options of adding fried chicken and/or alligator sausage. I'm still not sure it was worth the $10 as opposed to the $4 other joints on Frenchmen were selling their beans & rice for, but it was still fantastic nonetheless.
The band playing the dinner set at Maison was saxophonist, clarinetist and vocalist Aurora Nealand, leading a group through some great trad tunes, including some Bessie Smith and Louie Prima. It beat the pants off the trad bands that parade through the Montreal Jazz Fest. The sousaphone player was phenomenal, too, possibly the highlight of the group. In general, all the sousaphonists I heard in New Orleans were stronger than the bassists I encountered, with the exception of George Porter Jr. At the jam session, the house sax player and guitarist carried the weight of the band, both with credible singing voices (the saxophonist took a Louie Prima tune and the guitarist covered the Neville's "Yellow Moon"). Bonus points for the guitarist rocking a Hannah Montana purple axe all evening! The drummer was good, and was also competent on the busted baritone horn hanging on the wall of the club. The bassist was coming out of a rock bag and was rather stiff (as was the case for the bassists who sat in after him). The first jammer was a drummer from Fargo, North Dakota, who was charged with playing a second line so the host drummer could solicit tips. He said he could play a second line, but he was either nervous or an outright liar, with a feel that hiccuped more than a drunk tourist on Bourbon Street. Perhaps that made the host gun-shy about inviting up unknown white people to play. It took my travel buddy, bassist Mark Haynes, reminding the host about his sign-up list, for him to call me up. I relieved the house keyboardist - who was a great singer and a good blues player - for a good majority of the night. It was a true thrill to be playing on Frenchmen Street my first night in town.
On Tuesday afternoon, after visiting Loyola campus, Mark and I headed back to the source: Congo Square. The birthplace of all #BAM, the place where free people of color were allowed to congregate on Sundays and play their music. It bleeds into Louis Armstrong Park, decorated with multiple gorgeous statues and cement blocks inscribed with the names of New Orleans music legends. It is truly an inspiring and important place in which to set foot. Tuesday night, I made a point of visiting Twitter friend Jeff Albert's Open Ears music series at Blue Nile. It featured drummer/bandleader Justin Peake at the helm of some of the city's great improvisers, including bassist James Singleton (from Astral Project) and Aurora Nealand again, this time on saxophone and accordion! It seemed like most people that night doubled: the tenor player also had an analog synth, the percussionist spent most of his time on various electronic gadgets, Singleton also sang. Poet Moose Jackson narrated non sequiturs (both improvised and written by Peake) over the music. It was easily one of the most riveting out music shows I've seen in a long time, with immense musicality and deep listening happening. There were moments of Frisell's mix of anthemic, folk melodies that were subverted by various sonic treatments and noises. Clearly, the community around Open Ears is a fertile one, and a subset of New Orleans music that is probably a surprise to most people who don't follow Jeff on Twitter. One girl planted herself in front of the band on a bar stool, and was performing interpretive dance to the improvisation. She appeared to be a regular at Blue Nile.
Wednesday, I went down to Louisiana Music Factory. with the mission of grabbing local records that I could not find back home. I scored a couple of New Orleans funk compilations with the likes of Eddie Bo, Ellis Marsalis' Syndrome, a compilation of James Black tracks, and a CD issue of various live James Booker cuts. I also stumbled across a Venezuelan salsa record and an old-school Brazilian samba compilation that I couldn't turn down. Unfortunately, as I discovered when I got home, my long walk through the French Market with these records in my bag caused them to warp a bit. They're still playable, though! After having some phenomenal gumbo for lunch (the Brit to the table beside mine called the chicken & andouille concoction "the closest thing I've had to a religious experience"), I walked back through the Quarter to Congo Square to sit and write. Heading uptown along Rampart St, I wound up at the Little Gem Saloon, watching pianist Joshua Paxton give a master class in all things New Orleans piano. Paxton has done all the published transcriptions of James Booker, Professor Longhair, and Dr. John, and clearly has mastered that language, with a monster stride left hand that would make Ethan Iverson proud, as Paxton played a mashup of Fats Waller and Scott Joplin.
Some elderly gentleman in the Treme, as well as the staff at the hostel, told me about the free Wednesday concerts in Lafayette Square. By some kind of happenstance, the band was David Shaw and the Revivalists, a group I had just discovered the week before thanks to video of Shaw guesting with Galactic on their last tour. The park was full of food vendors from across town and a stage was set up, emblazoned with the New Orleans Saints logo. It seems the Wednesday concert series is sponsored by the Saints. In addition to their fantastic swamp-rock, complete with pedal steel and yet another multi-instrumentalist playing keys, trumpet and providing backing vocals, it appears Shaw has a tendency to take off his shirt at every show. I was standing beside a massive betting pool of people who had wagered upon how long it would take Shaw to disrobe (official time: 60 minutes). From there, it was back to Frenchmen Street to witness blues legend Walter "Wolfman" Washington. I remember when I discovered Wolfman, thanks to the early web radio stream of Radio Free New Orleans, and later, WWOZ. It was great to be there, up close and personal, at one of his Wednesday night residencies at d.b.a. Added perk: d.b.a. has possibly the largest beer list in the city, including some of my favourite brews such as Brooklyn Lager, Rogue Dead Guy Ale, and Unibroue's Ephemère Pomme. I ordered a St. Ambroise Apricot Ale, with my default Anglo-Montrealer accent, and the bartender took about 15 seconds to register what I had asked for.
Thursday, I headed the furthest downtown in my trip, to the Bywater neighbourhood for Euclid Records. I went in looking for some more New Orleans funk, and wound up getting a William D. Smith record produced by Allen Toussaint with James Booker on organ, as well as another volume of Kip Hanrahan's collaboration with Ishmael Reed, Conjure. I picked up one volume of this on my last trip to NYC, and I was pleasantly surprised to find its companion in New Orleans. Round four of the French Quarter awaited with another open-air festival, this time in Armstrong Park. More fantastic food, and music provided by a young up-and-coming brass band followed by the jam-band nostalgia of Flow Tribe. The event was hosted by percussionist Bill Summers, who has lived in New Orleans for 20-something years. It was an unexpected surprise.
Jon Cleary is probably the most well-known advocate of New Orleans piano history. Every Thursday that he's in town, he does a solo piano set at d.b.a. I got there early to absorb every note of this masterful player, and he dealt some serious history lessons. I had forgotten Earl King wrote "Big Chief" (not Professor Longhair), which he then took through three keys, and I had never heard Smiley Lewis' "One Night of Sin," which was cleaned up into Elvis' "One Night With You." From the Allen Toussaint covers to Cleary's originals, the dude just oozes effortless soul and class, decked out in a white suit with matching wide-brimmed hat.
From there, I hopped in a cab back uptown to the venerable Maple Leaf Bar, where drummer Johnny Vidacovich holds court every Thursday night. Johnny V subbed this one out, so it was Terrence Houston behind the kit with funk legend George Porter Jr (of the Meters) and guitarist June Yamagishi. I was initially disappointed, as I really wanted to hear the deeply swampy, "in-the-cracks" hookup that Johnny has with George, and Houston's youth and considerable chops meant everything turned into an extended drum solo. In the second set, though, Houston brought out the street beats and nailed them. A fitting nightcap to a trip filled with inspirational music.
Monday, March 18, 2013
Ten years in
I've been having many discussions with friends and colleagues about the state of the Montreal scene, or at least how I feel about it given the music I currently perform and for which I advocate. Kalmunity's upcoming tenth anniversary has me reflecting on these issues as well.
I moved to Montreal from Toronto in July 2002, and within the first year-and-a-half of my studies at McGill, I discovered many fledgling collectives: Kalmunity Vibe Collective, who took over a tiny Little Italy café every Tuesday night for an entirely improvised evening where musicians of all genres conversed with poets, singers and rappers; Moondata's LABProjects, a monthly event curated by alumni of a turn-of-the-millennium funk group that would unite musicians from different scenes, along with a DJ and visual projections; and the multi-lingual, multicultural hip-hop group Nomadic Massive. There was some overlap between these three communities: Kalmunity's founder, Jahsun, would often participate in the Moondata events; trumpeter and poet Jason "Blackbird" Selman is an integral part of both Nomadic and Kalmunity. The diverging elements were also intriguing: Moondata was more a gathering of guitarist Matt Lederman's friends and fellow artists, and the mash-ups of people were fascinating - mixing the jazz scene with the post-Arcade Fire indie scene. Moondata was my first exposure to artists like Patrick Watson, Lhasa and Land of Talk's Liz Powell, who were often thrust onstage alongside Kid Koala, P-Love and my McGill jazz program buddies. At that time, it felt like people were carving out specific artistic space in town. It lasted for a couple of years - bassists Sage Reynolds and Miles Perkin hosted the Mont-Royal Composer's Collective, spotlighting modern jazz music; trumpeter Ellwood Epps and other young lions of the musique actuelle scene started the Mardi Spaghetti series at Le Cagibi, a precursor to Epps' own space, L'Envers.
Over the last little while, the spaces have changed though the communities remain intact - Kalmunity is now at the much bigger Bobards (still on Tuesdays), Mardi Spaghetti is still going strong (with their annual marathon happening tomorrow), and Moondata has splintered off into the massive indie scene that Montreal is now renowned for, occupying lots of space at POP Montreal, which themselves recently celebrated their tenth birthday. L'Envers is gone, functioning now more as a presenter than a physical space. La Elástica, the space that hosted my MOVIM series dedicated to creative Latin music, is going on hiatus as of March 22. This relative stability is a hallmark of my time in Montreal, and stands in stark contrast to the Toronto I've followed over Facebook the past decade, with more openings and closings than I can keep track of. The recent spate of closings in New York - 92Y Tribeca being the latest casualty - is disheartening to read as well.
I hope that the openings of new spaces - La Elástica, Resonance Café, Le Bleury Bar À Vinyle, Rodos [shameless plug: I'll be playing at Rodos with frequent collaborators Sébastien Pellerin and Mark Nelson, alongside Jazz Amnesty Sound System] - means we're on the cusp of a new generation of artistic communities. One crew I find myself in these days is a young generation of Latino and Latinophile musicians who pursue work that falls outside the normal definition of musique du monde. Without meaning to humblebrag, MOVIM was an ideal place for these groups - not a dance club but a space one could dance in, not a jazz club but a room conducive to listening. The issue is to acclimate the potential audience for this music to these new spaces, and to embrace the audience that might already frequent these venues into our music. It's an eternal question for music and art that lives on the fringe, but hopefully one that Montrealers will be able to answer for another ten years.
I moved to Montreal from Toronto in July 2002, and within the first year-and-a-half of my studies at McGill, I discovered many fledgling collectives: Kalmunity Vibe Collective, who took over a tiny Little Italy café every Tuesday night for an entirely improvised evening where musicians of all genres conversed with poets, singers and rappers; Moondata's LABProjects, a monthly event curated by alumni of a turn-of-the-millennium funk group that would unite musicians from different scenes, along with a DJ and visual projections; and the multi-lingual, multicultural hip-hop group Nomadic Massive. There was some overlap between these three communities: Kalmunity's founder, Jahsun, would often participate in the Moondata events; trumpeter and poet Jason "Blackbird" Selman is an integral part of both Nomadic and Kalmunity. The diverging elements were also intriguing: Moondata was more a gathering of guitarist Matt Lederman's friends and fellow artists, and the mash-ups of people were fascinating - mixing the jazz scene with the post-Arcade Fire indie scene. Moondata was my first exposure to artists like Patrick Watson, Lhasa and Land of Talk's Liz Powell, who were often thrust onstage alongside Kid Koala, P-Love and my McGill jazz program buddies. At that time, it felt like people were carving out specific artistic space in town. It lasted for a couple of years - bassists Sage Reynolds and Miles Perkin hosted the Mont-Royal Composer's Collective, spotlighting modern jazz music; trumpeter Ellwood Epps and other young lions of the musique actuelle scene started the Mardi Spaghetti series at Le Cagibi, a precursor to Epps' own space, L'Envers.
Over the last little while, the spaces have changed though the communities remain intact - Kalmunity is now at the much bigger Bobards (still on Tuesdays), Mardi Spaghetti is still going strong (with their annual marathon happening tomorrow), and Moondata has splintered off into the massive indie scene that Montreal is now renowned for, occupying lots of space at POP Montreal, which themselves recently celebrated their tenth birthday. L'Envers is gone, functioning now more as a presenter than a physical space. La Elástica, the space that hosted my MOVIM series dedicated to creative Latin music, is going on hiatus as of March 22. This relative stability is a hallmark of my time in Montreal, and stands in stark contrast to the Toronto I've followed over Facebook the past decade, with more openings and closings than I can keep track of. The recent spate of closings in New York - 92Y Tribeca being the latest casualty - is disheartening to read as well.
I hope that the openings of new spaces - La Elástica, Resonance Café, Le Bleury Bar À Vinyle, Rodos [shameless plug: I'll be playing at Rodos with frequent collaborators Sébastien Pellerin and Mark Nelson, alongside Jazz Amnesty Sound System] - means we're on the cusp of a new generation of artistic communities. One crew I find myself in these days is a young generation of Latino and Latinophile musicians who pursue work that falls outside the normal definition of musique du monde. Without meaning to humblebrag, MOVIM was an ideal place for these groups - not a dance club but a space one could dance in, not a jazz club but a room conducive to listening. The issue is to acclimate the potential audience for this music to these new spaces, and to embrace the audience that might already frequent these venues into our music. It's an eternal question for music and art that lives on the fringe, but hopefully one that Montrealers will be able to answer for another ten years.
Monday, December 10, 2012
Changing landscapes
Tonight marks the final hurrah of L'Envers in its physical location of 185 Van Horne. Since trumpeter Ellwood Epps started this adventure upon his arrival in Montreal, L'Envers has served as the hub for creative music, experimental music, musique actuelle and new music. Epps had launched the Mardi Spaghetti series at nearby coffeehouse Le Cagibi around the same time (my memory is foggy as to which came first), and in my mind was a catalyst for a new generation of Montreal improvisers. L'Envers was a performance space, a rehearsal space, but also a presenter: Epps & co. brought such world-class talent as Fred Frith, Matana Roberts and Henry Grimes to a space populated by thrift store couches and cushions to sit on the floor. It was a collision between often heady music and the communal nature of its Mile End neighbourhood. There's a final jam session tonight from 9 pm-midnight. My workload prevents me from attending tonight, but I'll be there in spirit. I wish them all the best; I have a lot of fond memories of that space, and I certainly hope they continue in their capacity as a presenter to continue to bring like-minded artists to town - even though it won't be at 185.
The last time I was at L'Envers was a few months ago for their "Rent Party," which they threw to supplement their shoestring budget (alongside their successful Indiegogo campaign) and renew their rent for a few more months. With artists and listeners shuttling between the "current" L'Envers (the front room of 185) and the "old" L'Envers (the bigger back room, now called The Plant), the night featured a contemporary string quartet, electro-punky-no-wave duos, and a burlesque routine done to a swing band. That night, I really got a sense of the scope of the L'Envers community.
A few weeks ago, there were a string of gigs in town - eons ago in blog terms - that fostered that sense of community as well. They really felt like events, like happenings, with the venues packed to capacity of people enjoying art and supporting the artists. I've been reflecting on what made those gigs so special, so very different from most other gigs in the city (and certainly most "jazz" gigs).
The first was Jai Nitai Lotus' album launch for his début solo record, Something You Feel. He mounted a live band from the ranks of the Kalmunity Vibe Collective (myself included) with DJ/producer Simahlak augmenting the sound. Maybe it's because I'm a huge fan of Mark de Clive-Lowe and the Roots, but live hip-hop and live electronica is not a novelty to me anymore, though it still seems to surprise a fair number of people in town. I don't think much of the audience knew what to expect musically before coming in, even if they were familiar with Lotus' earlier tracks. There were a lot of faces I recognized in the audience, the same faces I saw at the Nomadic Massive mixtape launch this summer, and many of the same faces were out a couple of nights later at the release of Henri-Pierre Noël's reissued album, Piano - the whole family was out in force. To have that awareness while playing is an exhilarating feeling.
Later that same week was Gilberto Gil's concert at Place des Arts, with my good friend Rômmel Ribeiro opening. When the announcement was made that Rômmel would warm up the stage for the master, I was incredibly proud and extremely joyous. It seems rare that we think of local talent in the same space as international stars, especially given the scarcity of Brazilian appearances in town. I would love to see more double-bills that not only pair deserving local artists with international headliners, but also make so much seamless artistic sense as this one did. Rômmel's wide-reaching scope of what Brazilian music means - a passion that's similar, and far deeper, than my own - is indebted to Gil's work over the past 40-odd years. Gil's show (the same to what Peter Hum saw in Ottawa) was his re-envisioning of the traditional music of Northeastern Brazil, with some brilliantly executed, thrilling and creative arrangements.
I sincerely hope that the combination of Gil and Rômmel - which culminated in couples dancing forró in the aisles of Théâtre Maisonneuve - redefines what Montrealers are capable of performing, presenting, and supporting in their music scene. A definition that is rewritten thanks to the passionate visionaries like Ellwood Epps.
The last time I was at L'Envers was a few months ago for their "Rent Party," which they threw to supplement their shoestring budget (alongside their successful Indiegogo campaign) and renew their rent for a few more months. With artists and listeners shuttling between the "current" L'Envers (the front room of 185) and the "old" L'Envers (the bigger back room, now called The Plant), the night featured a contemporary string quartet, electro-punky-no-wave duos, and a burlesque routine done to a swing band. That night, I really got a sense of the scope of the L'Envers community.
***
A few weeks ago, there were a string of gigs in town - eons ago in blog terms - that fostered that sense of community as well. They really felt like events, like happenings, with the venues packed to capacity of people enjoying art and supporting the artists. I've been reflecting on what made those gigs so special, so very different from most other gigs in the city (and certainly most "jazz" gigs).
The first was Jai Nitai Lotus' album launch for his début solo record, Something You Feel. He mounted a live band from the ranks of the Kalmunity Vibe Collective (myself included) with DJ/producer Simahlak augmenting the sound. Maybe it's because I'm a huge fan of Mark de Clive-Lowe and the Roots, but live hip-hop and live electronica is not a novelty to me anymore, though it still seems to surprise a fair number of people in town. I don't think much of the audience knew what to expect musically before coming in, even if they were familiar with Lotus' earlier tracks. There were a lot of faces I recognized in the audience, the same faces I saw at the Nomadic Massive mixtape launch this summer, and many of the same faces were out a couple of nights later at the release of Henri-Pierre Noël's reissued album, Piano - the whole family was out in force. To have that awareness while playing is an exhilarating feeling.
Later that same week was Gilberto Gil's concert at Place des Arts, with my good friend Rômmel Ribeiro opening. When the announcement was made that Rômmel would warm up the stage for the master, I was incredibly proud and extremely joyous. It seems rare that we think of local talent in the same space as international stars, especially given the scarcity of Brazilian appearances in town. I would love to see more double-bills that not only pair deserving local artists with international headliners, but also make so much seamless artistic sense as this one did. Rômmel's wide-reaching scope of what Brazilian music means - a passion that's similar, and far deeper, than my own - is indebted to Gil's work over the past 40-odd years. Gil's show (the same to what Peter Hum saw in Ottawa) was his re-envisioning of the traditional music of Northeastern Brazil, with some brilliantly executed, thrilling and creative arrangements.
I sincerely hope that the combination of Gil and Rômmel - which culminated in couples dancing forró in the aisles of Théâtre Maisonneuve - redefines what Montrealers are capable of performing, presenting, and supporting in their music scene. A definition that is rewritten thanks to the passionate visionaries like Ellwood Epps.
Wednesday, December 05, 2012
RIP Dave Brubeck
I remember it like it was yesterday. I became enamoured with music at a young age, courtesy of Billy Joel's 52nd Street. I was a bit of a Billy Joel obsessive as a kid, and in one of his long-form VHS tapes, Shades of Grey, he made a passing mention of Dave Brubeck's Time Out and that the artwork adorned a wall of his house. With the gift money of my ninth birthday, I went and bought Time Out.
"Strange Meadowlark" changed my life. Even at nine years old, and having only played piano for three years at that point, I viscerally knew that that - whatever "that" was - was what I wanted to do, what I wanted to become. Not long after purchasing the album, I got the folio of transcriptions and diligently learned most of them. I bought a bunch of the Telarc Brubeck records of the 90s and 2000s - Young Lions and Old Tigers was my pre-adolescent introduction to musicians like Christian McBride and Roy Hargrove. Along with Oscar Peterson and Miles Davis, Brubeck was my gateway into jazz. One of my first issues of Down Beat had a joint interview with Brubeck and Peterson. I can't even very well articulate just how deeply Brubeck affected me as a kid. He is a truly formative influence - not in the sense of someone whose vocabulary I investigated and analyzed, but in the sense of someone who truly altered my life path. It's been years since I've listened to any of those records, Time Out included, but I would not be a pianist, composer, or even possibly a jazz fan, without Dave Brubeck's work.
Though I never saw him live, at his last appearance at the Montreal Jazz Festival I did get to briefly tell him the effect that Time Out had on me. I told him, with all truthfulness and no exaggeration, that I owe him my career. A trite statement, and likely one he had heard countless times over his long career, but a meaningful moment for me nonetheless.
Rest in peace, Mr. Brubeck. You have inspired countless musicians to pursue the path we call "jazz."
"Strange Meadowlark" changed my life. Even at nine years old, and having only played piano for three years at that point, I viscerally knew that that - whatever "that" was - was what I wanted to do, what I wanted to become. Not long after purchasing the album, I got the folio of transcriptions and diligently learned most of them. I bought a bunch of the Telarc Brubeck records of the 90s and 2000s - Young Lions and Old Tigers was my pre-adolescent introduction to musicians like Christian McBride and Roy Hargrove. Along with Oscar Peterson and Miles Davis, Brubeck was my gateway into jazz. One of my first issues of Down Beat had a joint interview with Brubeck and Peterson. I can't even very well articulate just how deeply Brubeck affected me as a kid. He is a truly formative influence - not in the sense of someone whose vocabulary I investigated and analyzed, but in the sense of someone who truly altered my life path. It's been years since I've listened to any of those records, Time Out included, but I would not be a pianist, composer, or even possibly a jazz fan, without Dave Brubeck's work.
Though I never saw him live, at his last appearance at the Montreal Jazz Festival I did get to briefly tell him the effect that Time Out had on me. I told him, with all truthfulness and no exaggeration, that I owe him my career. A trite statement, and likely one he had heard countless times over his long career, but a meaningful moment for me nonetheless.
Rest in peace, Mr. Brubeck. You have inspired countless musicians to pursue the path we call "jazz."
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Filling in the blanks
My apologies for the umpteenth unplanned hiatus on the blog. Hopefully this rundown will explain why these pages have been fairly silent. For everyone who might be landing here from my interview on The Jazz Session, welcome.
POP Montreal wrapped up this past weekend, which occupied a fair chunk of my week. I kicked it off at Balattou alongside Sarah Linhares, who showcased her solo work and a new electro-influenced project called Future Falcon. Sarah's record Messages From the Future just got nominated for Best Electronic Album at the GAMIQ, and we're gearing up for our next live show October 4 at Piano Rouge.
I was also responsible for mounting a live band for my friend ANGO. I called Mark Haynes and Jahsun of Kalmunity to bring the reggae and 80s R&B flavours out of Ango's music, which was enhanced by Mike Din triggering samples and effects that I didn't have enough hands for. It was a blast seeing Prison Garde and Jacques Greene, who had produced tracks on Ango's mixtape Serpentine, reacting to their beats coming to life.
I didn't get much of a chance to catch other people's music at POP this year - I only saw three shows. Fanfare Ciocarlia was at the Rialto Theatre, and their breakneck music was nearly ruined by a hyperactive lighting tech. It's a Balkan brass band, not a techno rave, the strobe lights can stay home. The sound at the Rialto was far better than I remember. I caught most of AKUA's set at Sala Rossa. I've known Akua for a long time, back to our days with McGill a cappella ensemble Effusion, and it's a pleasure to watch her solo material blossom. She acquitted herself well as a solo act, singing and playing keys over her Ableton Live (I assume) beats, and joined at times by harpist Emilie and saxophonist Dave. Akua is a striking visual presence as well, but it's hard to really interact when one is stuck behind a computer screen. The final show I saw was the PASA Musik showcase at Lambi, featuring Sarah MK and La Bronze. I hadn't seen La Bronze, though I have known drummer/vocalist/dancer Nadia Essadiqi for a while through the female percussion troupe Maloukaï. She's a force to be reckoned with onstage, with an honest voice that sometimes falters. The tunes didn't necessarily hit the climaxes that they could have, and while the first number with her two dancers was a welcome surprise, their return appearances became more routine. Maybe it's because they weren't properly lit at Lambi.
In Jason's interview, I spoke a lot about Alicuanta. Rehearsals are well and truly under way. Having lived with this music for nearly two years makes getting into detail work during the rehearsal process a much more feasible task. Pablo Serrano Dakán was in town from Mexico City for over a month working on the projection design. Seeing even the rough drafts of the projections were breathtaking.
I continue to indulge my love for Latin American music. The Trio Bruxo EP has been given some loving attention by Anthony Dean-Harris on his show The Line-Up, and was reviewed by Peter Hum. My monthly Latin series, MOVIM, continues tonight with my friends in Tupi Collective, and I'll be DJing alongside them. MOVIM will continue through the fall with performances by Trio Bruxo, Joel Miller, Frizson, and more.
POP Montreal wrapped up this past weekend, which occupied a fair chunk of my week. I kicked it off at Balattou alongside Sarah Linhares, who showcased her solo work and a new electro-influenced project called Future Falcon. Sarah's record Messages From the Future just got nominated for Best Electronic Album at the GAMIQ, and we're gearing up for our next live show October 4 at Piano Rouge.
I was also responsible for mounting a live band for my friend ANGO. I called Mark Haynes and Jahsun of Kalmunity to bring the reggae and 80s R&B flavours out of Ango's music, which was enhanced by Mike Din triggering samples and effects that I didn't have enough hands for. It was a blast seeing Prison Garde and Jacques Greene, who had produced tracks on Ango's mixtape Serpentine, reacting to their beats coming to life.
I didn't get much of a chance to catch other people's music at POP this year - I only saw three shows. Fanfare Ciocarlia was at the Rialto Theatre, and their breakneck music was nearly ruined by a hyperactive lighting tech. It's a Balkan brass band, not a techno rave, the strobe lights can stay home. The sound at the Rialto was far better than I remember. I caught most of AKUA's set at Sala Rossa. I've known Akua for a long time, back to our days with McGill a cappella ensemble Effusion, and it's a pleasure to watch her solo material blossom. She acquitted herself well as a solo act, singing and playing keys over her Ableton Live (I assume) beats, and joined at times by harpist Emilie and saxophonist Dave. Akua is a striking visual presence as well, but it's hard to really interact when one is stuck behind a computer screen. The final show I saw was the PASA Musik showcase at Lambi, featuring Sarah MK and La Bronze. I hadn't seen La Bronze, though I have known drummer/vocalist/dancer Nadia Essadiqi for a while through the female percussion troupe Maloukaï. She's a force to be reckoned with onstage, with an honest voice that sometimes falters. The tunes didn't necessarily hit the climaxes that they could have, and while the first number with her two dancers was a welcome surprise, their return appearances became more routine. Maybe it's because they weren't properly lit at Lambi.
***
In Jason's interview, I spoke a lot about Alicuanta. Rehearsals are well and truly under way. Having lived with this music for nearly two years makes getting into detail work during the rehearsal process a much more feasible task. Pablo Serrano Dakán was in town from Mexico City for over a month working on the projection design. Seeing even the rough drafts of the projections were breathtaking.
***
I continue to indulge my love for Latin American music. The Trio Bruxo EP has been given some loving attention by Anthony Dean-Harris on his show The Line-Up, and was reviewed by Peter Hum. My monthly Latin series, MOVIM, continues tonight with my friends in Tupi Collective, and I'll be DJing alongside them. MOVIM will continue through the fall with performances by Trio Bruxo, Joel Miller, Frizson, and more.
Monday, August 13, 2012
Rent party
The universe works in mysterious ways. Upon my return from NYC (and mere hours after I made a big note of Ethan Iverson's advice to check out Scott Joplin), I got an e-mail from trumpeter and artistic community organizer Ellwood Epps. Epps has been the catalyst of two galvanizing movements in Montreal's musique actuelle scene: the Mardi Spaghetti series at Le Cagibi, and his loft space, L'Envers. L'Envers, over the years, has hosted some of the best improvising talent at the local and international levels, and though they've had ups and downs over the years, they have continued to support the local scene and bring in artists that would not otherwise be booked in Montreal. Since they gave the bigger back room of 185 Van Horne over to La Plante, L'Envers has also been a prime rehearsal space: I have rehearsed there with ALICUANTA and with Matana Roberts' Coin Coin.
In these summer months, post-FIMAV, L'Envers has fallen on hard times. The lack of shows and rehearsal bookings has led to financial difficulty, and if they don't raise $1600 by August 24 they'll be forced to shut their doors - a move that would irrevocably damage Montreal's independent arts community. The rent party is happening August 24, and in keeping with the "rent party" tradition, Ellwood asked me to play some stride piano. Stride piano is really not my forte, so I will loosen the definition of it, and play some early swing and Great American Songbook tunes, and work out my left hand. Also on the bill:
- Belly Dance with Claire Litton
- Improvised music with Jack Wright
- Burlesque Performance with Miss Josephine, backed up by Live Band!
- Contemporary Music with the Bozzini String Quartet
- Short film by Karl Lemieux
- Synth Pop with Brusque Twins
In these summer months, post-FIMAV, L'Envers has fallen on hard times. The lack of shows and rehearsal bookings has led to financial difficulty, and if they don't raise $1600 by August 24 they'll be forced to shut their doors - a move that would irrevocably damage Montreal's independent arts community. The rent party is happening August 24, and in keeping with the "rent party" tradition, Ellwood asked me to play some stride piano. Stride piano is really not my forte, so I will loosen the definition of it, and play some early swing and Great American Songbook tunes, and work out my left hand. Also on the bill:
- Belly Dance with Claire Litton
- Improvised music with Jack Wright
- Burlesque Performance with Miss Josephine, backed up by Live Band!
- Contemporary Music with the Bozzini String Quartet
- Short film by Karl Lemieux
- Synth Pop with Brusque Twins
NYC Travel Diary, August 2012
Sometime last year, I made a resolution to get down to NYC as often as time and money would allow. In lieu of actually moving there, I wanted to somewhat resume the commuting I had done in 2006-07 when I was participating in the BMI Jazz Composer's Workshop. Over the years I've cultivated a strong community of friends and colleagues in the city, and when I went down in 2011 after a two year absence I realized that I just couldn't wait that long between visits anymore.
Immediately after my friends Moonstarr and The One Tash got married, I hopped on the bus down to NYC. I didn't realize how much traffic there would be on a Monday morning to get to NYC, and when I got to the bus station I was about 6 people too late to wind up on the 8:30 express bus, and barely made it on to the 9 am milk run. Luckily, most people on that bus were headed straight to New York, so to compensate for our incredibly long waiting time at the border (two agents were attempting to process three bus-loads of people), our bus avoided most of the interim stops like Glens Falls and Ridgewood, NJ. I've had fairly good luck in my bus trips over the years, except for one ride down to Toronto, where a drunk guy got on in Kingston and lost his cool when a woman starting painting her nails in front of us. It seems as though that my fellow passengers on this particular ride had no sense, or at least a very different definition, of what "using headphones at a reasonable volume" meant. After a while I gave up on even trying to listen to my own iPod as other people's music devices and ringtones exceeded my personal comfortable listening levels. I feel your pain, Jason!
After checking into my Bushwick hostel, I headed back into Manhattan for the forró night at Café Wha, led by percussionist and vocalist Davi Vieira. Their repertoire is a fun mix of traditional forró, and reggae-influenced MPB. It feels almost like a backyard jam session, with solos and laughter running rampant through the set. From there, I headed to Richie Cannata's longstanding jam at the Bitter End, where his Billy Joel band colleague Tommy Byrnes was holding down the bar. I've hung out with Tommy when the band has come through Montreal, so it was strange to see him in NYC. (This was not the only time this would occur.)
Tuesday I had coffee with vocalist Karlie Bruce, who sings backup with Montreal Jazz Fest headliners Escort, and is about to launch her first album Stateside. It reminds me a lot of the Montreal sound of Karkwa and Patrick Watson, references that don't really have the same effect in Brooklyn as they do here. She took me to an Aussie café in Williamsburg that actually understood what an allongé is (as opposed to the café near my hostel who looked at me quizzically when I asked for a long espresso that morning). From there, I had rehearsal with my Indigone cohorts Alex Mallett and Matt Rousseau. Alex and I haven't played the Indigone book together since 2009, and there's a few tunes (notably his contributions to the repertoire) that I haven't played since that time myself. It was like putting on an old pair of shoes. Alex and I find a pocket together and there's nearly a decade's worth of trust in our friendship and partnership. Alex referred Matt for the gig and he got through our music admirably, especially with only one rehearsal and a minimum of preparation beforehand.
I got into the East Village as quickly as I could for Cyro Baptista's set with Beat the Donkey at the Stone. The room was strewn with various percussion, a floor for tap dancing, and keyboards that have definitely seen better days. Cyro and four band members came out and blew in harmonized beer bottles - something Hermeto Pascoal did a few months ago in Burlington - before the musicians manned their stations. The set began with a traditional song on ngoni and kora. I didn't get the ngoni player's name but he had a rich, bassy tone and anchored the band well - he was a good singer too. Baptista is a descendant of Hermeto Pascoal and Tom Zé, taking folkloric Brazilian music and running it through a kaleidoscopic sense of improvisational whimsy. Using Zorn or Morris-like conduction he would interrupt these fantastic grooves and rhapsodies on Brazilian folk songs - I never in my life expected to hear "Meu maracatu," a tune I learned in São Paulo, dissolve into noise guitar, or "Pisa na fulo" on a harmonized and amplfied Jew's harp. It was the first show I've seen at the Stone that made me want to dance (but that's because I missed the Mehliana premiere).
I walked along 3rd street westward to Zinc Bar for Orrin Evans' "Evolution" jam session. His quartet's opening two tunes consisted of musicians I didn't know - bassist Alex Hernandez, drummer Kassa Overall, and a sax player whose name I didn't catch - truly getting into the definition of Black American Music. Overall put a semi-"Poinciana" beat on "Bemsha Swing," and Evans' responded with some two-handed gospel chords. It was the best music of the night, outside of bassist Ben Wolfe playing "If I Should Lose You" in duo with vocalist JD Walter. The jam, while efficiently run by Evans, devolved into the trap most NYC sessions fall prey to - the idea that one needs to play all their shit on every tune because they're at a jam session in New York City. I got up and played "What Is This Thing Called Love?" with a few horn players, and my favourite moment was when the band dropped out and Hernandez and I got to play a couple of choruses of duo. I really dug his playing, both as a listener and as a player. He's a name I will watch out for in the future.
Wednesday's itinerary focused on Lincoln Center. My BMI colleague, Mariel Berger, had told me about the score collection at that NYPL branch many years ago, though I had never had time to go out there and investigate. I spent the afternoon lost in the official score of West Side Story, Golijov's Three Songs, and Soul Jazz's coffee table book of classic bossa nova record covers. I finally got to experience the Lincoln Center Out of Doors festival in Damrosch Park, programmed by the indefatigable Bill Bragin. Israel's Alaev Family were new to me, and stole the show with their propulsive Bouchari folk music, somewhere between cantorial music and the odd-metered dances of the Balkans. I had initially gone to see Dr. L. Subramaniam, the master of South Indian violin. It was only when I re-checked the website that morning that I realized it was a project called Global Fusion and I somewhat tempered my expectations. Featuring guitarist Larry Coryell, harmonica player Corky Siegel, and others, all the nuances of Carnatic music got trampled over by keyboards, and 4/4 drums. I wish the violins (Subramaniam and his son, Ambi) were more prominent in the mix, and that the mridangam player had had more room to step out. Wanting to end my night on a high note, I walked down 8th Ave to Guantanamera to check out Pedrito Martinez. I'm not sure how a restaurant that small can contain that much powerful music. Pedrito and company just slayed, with rhythmic trickery that I still can't fully comprehend, and a pianist and vocalist whose montunos were the motor of the evening that never faltered. It really is too bad that there isn't room to dance in there, though.
Thursday was devoted to the reunion of Indigone, at Freddy's Bar in Park Slope. It was great to see a bunch of old friends, most of them McGill affiliated and now living in Brooklyn. It was a thrill to play those old tunes again. We were followed by guitarist Todd Clouser, who used his set to explore the outer limits of his music with Rick Parker on trombone and electronics and drummer Tim Kuhl. Definitely not what I was expecting him to do at all, and all the more riveting for it.
Friday, I had had a multitude of plans that all got derailed once vibraphonist James Shipp posted on Facebook that Kate McGarry would be at Joe's Pub. I've been a fan of Kate since The Target landed in my lap via Exclaim! a few years ago, and she's one of the many artists that frustratingly never get booked in Montreal. Her set centred around her recastings of standards in styles ranging from truly rooted swing to dark and brooding straight eighths (her expansive rendition of "The Man I Love" gave it an entirely different meaning). The highlights of the set were her own gorgeous setting of a Hafez poem, in duo with guitarist Keith Ganz, that led into "We Kiss In a Shadow," and the closing Toninho Horta medley which showcased drummer Clarence Penn's killer samba feel. I'm a very happy man when he lets loose that way, as he did with Grégoire Maret a month ago. It was a treat to hear organist Gary Versace in this more straightahead setting, compared to the trio with Ellery Eskelin and Gerald Cleaver that I heard a couple of months back at Sala Rossa. Playing without a bassist, Versace and Ganz accessed a wide palette of colours. One of the other non-musical highlights was having Fred Hersch at the table behind me - I've never been nervous while being an audience member before. I couldn't work up the nerve to introduce myself, as he was at a table with his partner and two friends, and seemingly not interested in talking shop.
Shop talk was reserved for Saturday at Ethan Iverson's master class. Ethan recognized me but only put it all together well into the master class - "I'm only used to seeing you in Canada," he said. It was a small master class, with only two other pianists in attendance - Martin Porter, and a player from Jersey whose name I forget. Ethan, as usual, had great counsel and strong opinions delivered in a forthright and humourous manner. I have a list a page long of things to check out now, from Stravinsky's piano music to Wally Rose to the more obscure Joplin rags. He talked through a Lee Konitz line he was learning for a recording session this week, a knotty piece of architecture that was a pain to memorize. It was probably one of the most edifying experiences, watching a pianist who can quite literally play most anything at the drop of a hat, work through some problems at the instrument.
My final night of the week found me back in Park Slope with Alex Mallett, as part of the Brooklyn Beet Day at Korzo. Featuring a lineup of singer-songwriters that are based out of the neighbouring Roots Café, I played with Alex's band (completed by ex-Montrealer Alan Biller) and then continued to sit in with Gypsy George (with whom Alex plays bass). I also had some killer fish and chips, with beet ketchup, and beet sugar vodka was being passed out for the tasting. I felt like an honourary member of the Roots Café crew for a night. It was a beautiful send-off and a strong reminder that I need to return.
Immediately after my friends Moonstarr and The One Tash got married, I hopped on the bus down to NYC. I didn't realize how much traffic there would be on a Monday morning to get to NYC, and when I got to the bus station I was about 6 people too late to wind up on the 8:30 express bus, and barely made it on to the 9 am milk run. Luckily, most people on that bus were headed straight to New York, so to compensate for our incredibly long waiting time at the border (two agents were attempting to process three bus-loads of people), our bus avoided most of the interim stops like Glens Falls and Ridgewood, NJ. I've had fairly good luck in my bus trips over the years, except for one ride down to Toronto, where a drunk guy got on in Kingston and lost his cool when a woman starting painting her nails in front of us. It seems as though that my fellow passengers on this particular ride had no sense, or at least a very different definition, of what "using headphones at a reasonable volume" meant. After a while I gave up on even trying to listen to my own iPod as other people's music devices and ringtones exceeded my personal comfortable listening levels. I feel your pain, Jason!
After checking into my Bushwick hostel, I headed back into Manhattan for the forró night at Café Wha, led by percussionist and vocalist Davi Vieira. Their repertoire is a fun mix of traditional forró, and reggae-influenced MPB. It feels almost like a backyard jam session, with solos and laughter running rampant through the set. From there, I headed to Richie Cannata's longstanding jam at the Bitter End, where his Billy Joel band colleague Tommy Byrnes was holding down the bar. I've hung out with Tommy when the band has come through Montreal, so it was strange to see him in NYC. (This was not the only time this would occur.)
Tuesday I had coffee with vocalist Karlie Bruce, who sings backup with Montreal Jazz Fest headliners Escort, and is about to launch her first album Stateside. It reminds me a lot of the Montreal sound of Karkwa and Patrick Watson, references that don't really have the same effect in Brooklyn as they do here. She took me to an Aussie café in Williamsburg that actually understood what an allongé is (as opposed to the café near my hostel who looked at me quizzically when I asked for a long espresso that morning). From there, I had rehearsal with my Indigone cohorts Alex Mallett and Matt Rousseau. Alex and I haven't played the Indigone book together since 2009, and there's a few tunes (notably his contributions to the repertoire) that I haven't played since that time myself. It was like putting on an old pair of shoes. Alex and I find a pocket together and there's nearly a decade's worth of trust in our friendship and partnership. Alex referred Matt for the gig and he got through our music admirably, especially with only one rehearsal and a minimum of preparation beforehand.
I got into the East Village as quickly as I could for Cyro Baptista's set with Beat the Donkey at the Stone. The room was strewn with various percussion, a floor for tap dancing, and keyboards that have definitely seen better days. Cyro and four band members came out and blew in harmonized beer bottles - something Hermeto Pascoal did a few months ago in Burlington - before the musicians manned their stations. The set began with a traditional song on ngoni and kora. I didn't get the ngoni player's name but he had a rich, bassy tone and anchored the band well - he was a good singer too. Baptista is a descendant of Hermeto Pascoal and Tom Zé, taking folkloric Brazilian music and running it through a kaleidoscopic sense of improvisational whimsy. Using Zorn or Morris-like conduction he would interrupt these fantastic grooves and rhapsodies on Brazilian folk songs - I never in my life expected to hear "Meu maracatu," a tune I learned in São Paulo, dissolve into noise guitar, or "Pisa na fulo" on a harmonized and amplfied Jew's harp. It was the first show I've seen at the Stone that made me want to dance (but that's because I missed the Mehliana premiere).
I walked along 3rd street westward to Zinc Bar for Orrin Evans' "Evolution" jam session. His quartet's opening two tunes consisted of musicians I didn't know - bassist Alex Hernandez, drummer Kassa Overall, and a sax player whose name I didn't catch - truly getting into the definition of Black American Music. Overall put a semi-"Poinciana" beat on "Bemsha Swing," and Evans' responded with some two-handed gospel chords. It was the best music of the night, outside of bassist Ben Wolfe playing "If I Should Lose You" in duo with vocalist JD Walter. The jam, while efficiently run by Evans, devolved into the trap most NYC sessions fall prey to - the idea that one needs to play all their shit on every tune because they're at a jam session in New York City. I got up and played "What Is This Thing Called Love?" with a few horn players, and my favourite moment was when the band dropped out and Hernandez and I got to play a couple of choruses of duo. I really dug his playing, both as a listener and as a player. He's a name I will watch out for in the future.
Wednesday's itinerary focused on Lincoln Center. My BMI colleague, Mariel Berger, had told me about the score collection at that NYPL branch many years ago, though I had never had time to go out there and investigate. I spent the afternoon lost in the official score of West Side Story, Golijov's Three Songs, and Soul Jazz's coffee table book of classic bossa nova record covers. I finally got to experience the Lincoln Center Out of Doors festival in Damrosch Park, programmed by the indefatigable Bill Bragin. Israel's Alaev Family were new to me, and stole the show with their propulsive Bouchari folk music, somewhere between cantorial music and the odd-metered dances of the Balkans. I had initially gone to see Dr. L. Subramaniam, the master of South Indian violin. It was only when I re-checked the website that morning that I realized it was a project called Global Fusion and I somewhat tempered my expectations. Featuring guitarist Larry Coryell, harmonica player Corky Siegel, and others, all the nuances of Carnatic music got trampled over by keyboards, and 4/4 drums. I wish the violins (Subramaniam and his son, Ambi) were more prominent in the mix, and that the mridangam player had had more room to step out. Wanting to end my night on a high note, I walked down 8th Ave to Guantanamera to check out Pedrito Martinez. I'm not sure how a restaurant that small can contain that much powerful music. Pedrito and company just slayed, with rhythmic trickery that I still can't fully comprehend, and a pianist and vocalist whose montunos were the motor of the evening that never faltered. It really is too bad that there isn't room to dance in there, though.
Thursday was devoted to the reunion of Indigone, at Freddy's Bar in Park Slope. It was great to see a bunch of old friends, most of them McGill affiliated and now living in Brooklyn. It was a thrill to play those old tunes again. We were followed by guitarist Todd Clouser, who used his set to explore the outer limits of his music with Rick Parker on trombone and electronics and drummer Tim Kuhl. Definitely not what I was expecting him to do at all, and all the more riveting for it.
Friday, I had had a multitude of plans that all got derailed once vibraphonist James Shipp posted on Facebook that Kate McGarry would be at Joe's Pub. I've been a fan of Kate since The Target landed in my lap via Exclaim! a few years ago, and she's one of the many artists that frustratingly never get booked in Montreal. Her set centred around her recastings of standards in styles ranging from truly rooted swing to dark and brooding straight eighths (her expansive rendition of "The Man I Love" gave it an entirely different meaning). The highlights of the set were her own gorgeous setting of a Hafez poem, in duo with guitarist Keith Ganz, that led into "We Kiss In a Shadow," and the closing Toninho Horta medley which showcased drummer Clarence Penn's killer samba feel. I'm a very happy man when he lets loose that way, as he did with Grégoire Maret a month ago. It was a treat to hear organist Gary Versace in this more straightahead setting, compared to the trio with Ellery Eskelin and Gerald Cleaver that I heard a couple of months back at Sala Rossa. Playing without a bassist, Versace and Ganz accessed a wide palette of colours. One of the other non-musical highlights was having Fred Hersch at the table behind me - I've never been nervous while being an audience member before. I couldn't work up the nerve to introduce myself, as he was at a table with his partner and two friends, and seemingly not interested in talking shop.
Shop talk was reserved for Saturday at Ethan Iverson's master class. Ethan recognized me but only put it all together well into the master class - "I'm only used to seeing you in Canada," he said. It was a small master class, with only two other pianists in attendance - Martin Porter, and a player from Jersey whose name I forget. Ethan, as usual, had great counsel and strong opinions delivered in a forthright and humourous manner. I have a list a page long of things to check out now, from Stravinsky's piano music to Wally Rose to the more obscure Joplin rags. He talked through a Lee Konitz line he was learning for a recording session this week, a knotty piece of architecture that was a pain to memorize. It was probably one of the most edifying experiences, watching a pianist who can quite literally play most anything at the drop of a hat, work through some problems at the instrument.
My final night of the week found me back in Park Slope with Alex Mallett, as part of the Brooklyn Beet Day at Korzo. Featuring a lineup of singer-songwriters that are based out of the neighbouring Roots Café, I played with Alex's band (completed by ex-Montrealer Alan Biller) and then continued to sit in with Gypsy George (with whom Alex plays bass). I also had some killer fish and chips, with beet ketchup, and beet sugar vodka was being passed out for the tasting. I felt like an honourary member of the Roots Café crew for a night. It was a beautiful send-off and a strong reminder that I need to return.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
FIJM Day 10 & Wrap-up
The final night of Jazz Fest was dedicated to groove. I started my evening with my Kalmunity colleague (and former piano student) Sarah MK. I make no claim of being objective here: I'm extremely proud of Sarah, in how she's grown as an individual musician, how her artistic sense has grown as a bandleader, and what she's trying to do on and for the Montreal scene. Her sets strayed from her EP, Worth It, incorporating new tunes, very old tunes, a re-worked version of Chaka Khan's take on "A Night In Tunisia" and a new tune written to a J Dilla beat. Joined by some of Kalmunity's finest (including guitarist/producer Jordan Peters), Montreal's soul scene is in good hands.
Sarah played so long that I unfortunately missed Chicha Libre on the Bell stage and I headed straight to Chromeo's final outdoor extravaganza. They had hired a ten-piece string section, none of whom I could hear except for the harpist. Dave One and P-Thugg unleashed a set of Prince-inspired 80s electro-funk, in a far stronger live set than the one I saw years ago at the Olympia. It seemed much like the Escort show - people were out to be a participant in the final show of this year's Jazz Fest, but I don't think many were Chromeo fans. The crowd response was fairly tepid for 100,000 people and I longed for the real, unifying outdoor events of previous jazz fests: Stevie Wonder, Spanish Harlem Orchestra, the Funk Brothers. Chromeo ended early (10:45 instead of 11 pm) and lacked the now-obligatory fireworks finale.
The real final party was back at Metropolis, where DJ/blogger/event promoter Lexis (of Music Is My Sanctuary) was joined by The Goods and Jazzanova behind the decks. Kalmunity was wrapping up their Nightcap series up in the Savoy, so much of the evening was spent transferring between venues and waiting in lines, as both rooms were seriously packed. I got to the venue in the middle of Lexis' set, with rapper/producer Boogat animating the far more responsive crowd. I ran up to the Savoy for an hour, where Kalmunity had an over-capacity crowd in the palms of their collective hands. With the theme being "The Present Moment," the flow of ideas was quick and adventurous (including a three-horn free intro to one of the tunes), and one of the biggest cyphers of vocalists I've seen in a long time. After nearly an hour in the crowd I had to regain a sense of personal space and headed back down the stairs to check out Jazzanova's set of boogie, Brazilian, and other tracks. The Goods' Scott C closed out the night with a more electro-inspired set.
Sarah played so long that I unfortunately missed Chicha Libre on the Bell stage and I headed straight to Chromeo's final outdoor extravaganza. They had hired a ten-piece string section, none of whom I could hear except for the harpist. Dave One and P-Thugg unleashed a set of Prince-inspired 80s electro-funk, in a far stronger live set than the one I saw years ago at the Olympia. It seemed much like the Escort show - people were out to be a participant in the final show of this year's Jazz Fest, but I don't think many were Chromeo fans. The crowd response was fairly tepid for 100,000 people and I longed for the real, unifying outdoor events of previous jazz fests: Stevie Wonder, Spanish Harlem Orchestra, the Funk Brothers. Chromeo ended early (10:45 instead of 11 pm) and lacked the now-obligatory fireworks finale.
The real final party was back at Metropolis, where DJ/blogger/event promoter Lexis (of Music Is My Sanctuary) was joined by The Goods and Jazzanova behind the decks. Kalmunity was wrapping up their Nightcap series up in the Savoy, so much of the evening was spent transferring between venues and waiting in lines, as both rooms were seriously packed. I got to the venue in the middle of Lexis' set, with rapper/producer Boogat animating the far more responsive crowd. I ran up to the Savoy for an hour, where Kalmunity had an over-capacity crowd in the palms of their collective hands. With the theme being "The Present Moment," the flow of ideas was quick and adventurous (including a three-horn free intro to one of the tunes), and one of the biggest cyphers of vocalists I've seen in a long time. After nearly an hour in the crowd I had to regain a sense of personal space and headed back down the stairs to check out Jazzanova's set of boogie, Brazilian, and other tracks. The Goods' Scott C closed out the night with a more electro-inspired set.
***
Of course, now that it's over, the wrap-up articles are a mix of self-congratulation and the usual refrain of not having enough jazz at the Jazz Festival. Bassist, composer and OFF Jazz Festival co-founder Normand Guilbeault has written a dissenting article at Le Devoir (French only). I admire Guilbeault as a musician and for his venture at the OFF Festival, started at a time when the FIJM booked far less local acts than they do now. While I also wish that there was a bigger spotlight shone on local artists (although I have to say this year was a good one - the Kalmunity family alone was responsible for 9 shows throughout the festival), and while some of the booked acts stray from even the biggest jazz umbrella, I would argue this year's edition was better than usual. The Brooklyn-disco act Escort featured some of that city's finest jazz and musique actuelle talent, playing tunes that are rooted in the harmony of the Great American Songbook. Lest we forget that jazz itself took a disco turn courtesy of the CTI label.
As Pete Matthews of Feast of Music aptly wrote (and I'm stunned that a Brooklynite understands this better than a life-long Montrealer), there are two Montreal Jazz Festivals: the indoor paid shows and the outdoor events. I've lived here for ten years and the outdoor events have ALWAYS been a mix of jazz, world music, electronica and blues. The closest thing to a purely jazz outdoor extravaganza I have seen would be the Spanish Harlem Orchestra, The Afro-Cuban All Stars, or the Mardi Gras closing party of a couple of years ago with Allen Toussaint, Trombone Shorty, the Soul Rebels and Zachary Richard. I think the power of these events, as I mention above, is in their ability to unify the city. Does it make artistic sense to have a big band play an hour-and-a-half closing party on a massive outdoor stage, through an incredibly amplified sound system? Would a big band bring 100,000 people to downtown Montreal? I doubt it.
While Guilbeault has valid points, to me he discredits himself entirely by stating he has boycotted the festival for years. If that's the case, how can he know the full extent of the programming, or the surprises that may have occurred during the festival (like Stevie Wonder playing "Giant Steps" on harmonica - isn't that the epitome of capital-J Jazz)? While it's true that after 10 pm, the only outdoor stage with jazz programming is the Radio-Canada stage, that series included such phenomenal talent as Kneebody. That argument is such a narrow definition of what the Festival represents that it discounts the indoor series that continue past 10 pm - all of the programming at Gesù, the second sets of shows at Upstairs, the jam session hosted by John Roney, and the Jazz Amnesty Sound System who conduct a better jazz education class than any university course. If we want the Festival to represent the vibrant jazz community that we have in Montreal year-round, we need to work within the system. If we don't provide them with other artists they can book, if we don't wish to participate in the Festival as spectator, performer or critic, if we don't support our own scenes the other 50 weeks per year, then we have absolutely no grounds on which to complain.
Saturday, July 07, 2012
FIJM Day 9: World affairs
My first visit to the new Maison Symphonique began in awe of its spectacular architecture. This hall is so much better than Salle Wilfrid-Pelletier, from its sightlines to its acoustics to its ambiance. Natural wood gives it a warmth compared to the sterility of the red plush seats of Pelletier, and the acoustics are far better. André Ménard preceded guitarist Harry Manx's concert with this caveat (and I'm paraphrasing and loosely translating from the French): "No one wants to watch the concert through your little screen, so photos and video are strictly, truly forbidden." Thank you - many of the concerts have been plagued by people so concerned with documenting the fact that they were there rather than enjoying the experience of being there.
Manx is a guitarist who specializes in a mixture of blues and Indian music. This is no slapdash fusion - his incorporation of the mohan veena and Hindustani filigree is the work of someone who has seriously studied these traditions, as much as he has the Delta slide masters of the blues. Joined by a multicultural band of Australian organist Clayton Doley, Indian vocalist Kiran Ahluwalia, and multi-instrumentalist Yeshe, Manx wove his way through a repertoire of originals and carefully selected covers. The blend of Yeshe's kamele ngoni (a stringed instrument based on a gourd, similar to a kora) and Manx's resonator guitars was impressive and novel, as was the pairing of mbira (thumb piano) with Hammond organ. My intention in going to this concert was to hear Ahluwalia, a stunning Indian classical vocalist with a very pure, stringlike tone. She often left the stage for the other three musicians to delve deeper into the blues tradition. As great as Ahluwalia is, I got the sense she felt very out of place. The band really took off on the ecstatic "Must Must," a Sufi mystic song that Ahluwalia has previously recorded. In meeting her on an equal playing field, the band truly soared. Doley was a complete revelation for me - now seemingly based in Ontario, he's a true colourist on the Hammond, kicking bass pedals and manipulating the drawbars and Leslie speaker speed like Billy Preston. His duo with Ahluwalia, supporting her with subtly sweeping synth pads, was another highlight for me. The crowd responded more to a Booker T and the MGs style blues, and Yeshe's version of Zachary Richard's "La Ballade de Jean Batailleur." Both Yeshe and Manx have gruff voices that, while they're not the most precise instruments, are full of character and grit. The only downfall of the show, to me, was that Manx insisted on triggering kick and snare samples with his feet, which led to a similar feel for every song throughout the concert. It was cool for the first tune and then it grew tired - with Yeshe playing congas, it became entirely unnecessary.
From there, it was a clinic in first-generation hard bop with pianist Cedar Walton and his trio. Kicking off the set with "Newest Blues," Walton wasted no time in getting into some high-quality swing with compatriots David Williams on bass and drummer Willie Jones III. Jones had an impeccable time feel on the ride. Williams glued the trio together with a woody tone for walking. He had a penchant for quoting tunes, be it "Blue Monk" and "St Thomas" in "Newest Blues" or Coltrane's "Resolution" in his feature (whose name escapes me now). The set alternated between concise, punchy arrangements of standards ("Young and Foolish," "My One and Only Love") and Walton originals. It was like a class from Art Blakey University: Walton's tunes had multiple sections with different time feels in the vein of the great Jazz Messenger composers. Jones navigated these time feels with ease and facility. What Walton lacked in precision, he had in ideas - it was such an edifying pleasure to hear that bluesy, tonal post-bebop improvising language from one of its masters. No one owns that medium-slow loping swing tempo of "Dear Ruth" quite like Walton. A true privilege to be in his company.
I had to leave early for a photo op with the Kalmunity Vibe Collective. Last night, the marquee of Metropolis read: SARAH MK; KALMUNITY; NOMADIC MASSIVE. It was "A Great Day in Montreal." The Kalmunity collective is responsible directly for six shows in this year's programming; factor in the extended family of Nomadic Massive and Wesli and the count grows to nine. Kalmunity is a true incubator of talent in this city, and to me it is what sets Montreal's creative culture apart from all other scenes. The ability to unite artists across disciplines and genres to create art improvised in the moment is an experience unlike any other I've found. That they've been doing it every Tuesday for 9 years (with maybe a month or two pause a couple of years ago when we had to change venues) is nothing short of astonishing.
While Kalmunity was paying tribute to the late hip-hop producer J Dilla at the Savoy, I ran over to get my dose of Afro-Caribbean vinyl with the Canicule Tropicale crew. DJs Kobal, Philippe Noël and Sugarface Nene dug deep in their crates for a joyful selection of cumbia, salsa, samba and Afrobeat while Gene "Starship" Pendon displayed his handiwork in live painting beside the decks.
Manx is a guitarist who specializes in a mixture of blues and Indian music. This is no slapdash fusion - his incorporation of the mohan veena and Hindustani filigree is the work of someone who has seriously studied these traditions, as much as he has the Delta slide masters of the blues. Joined by a multicultural band of Australian organist Clayton Doley, Indian vocalist Kiran Ahluwalia, and multi-instrumentalist Yeshe, Manx wove his way through a repertoire of originals and carefully selected covers. The blend of Yeshe's kamele ngoni (a stringed instrument based on a gourd, similar to a kora) and Manx's resonator guitars was impressive and novel, as was the pairing of mbira (thumb piano) with Hammond organ. My intention in going to this concert was to hear Ahluwalia, a stunning Indian classical vocalist with a very pure, stringlike tone. She often left the stage for the other three musicians to delve deeper into the blues tradition. As great as Ahluwalia is, I got the sense she felt very out of place. The band really took off on the ecstatic "Must Must," a Sufi mystic song that Ahluwalia has previously recorded. In meeting her on an equal playing field, the band truly soared. Doley was a complete revelation for me - now seemingly based in Ontario, he's a true colourist on the Hammond, kicking bass pedals and manipulating the drawbars and Leslie speaker speed like Billy Preston. His duo with Ahluwalia, supporting her with subtly sweeping synth pads, was another highlight for me. The crowd responded more to a Booker T and the MGs style blues, and Yeshe's version of Zachary Richard's "La Ballade de Jean Batailleur." Both Yeshe and Manx have gruff voices that, while they're not the most precise instruments, are full of character and grit. The only downfall of the show, to me, was that Manx insisted on triggering kick and snare samples with his feet, which led to a similar feel for every song throughout the concert. It was cool for the first tune and then it grew tired - with Yeshe playing congas, it became entirely unnecessary.
From there, it was a clinic in first-generation hard bop with pianist Cedar Walton and his trio. Kicking off the set with "Newest Blues," Walton wasted no time in getting into some high-quality swing with compatriots David Williams on bass and drummer Willie Jones III. Jones had an impeccable time feel on the ride. Williams glued the trio together with a woody tone for walking. He had a penchant for quoting tunes, be it "Blue Monk" and "St Thomas" in "Newest Blues" or Coltrane's "Resolution" in his feature (whose name escapes me now). The set alternated between concise, punchy arrangements of standards ("Young and Foolish," "My One and Only Love") and Walton originals. It was like a class from Art Blakey University: Walton's tunes had multiple sections with different time feels in the vein of the great Jazz Messenger composers. Jones navigated these time feels with ease and facility. What Walton lacked in precision, he had in ideas - it was such an edifying pleasure to hear that bluesy, tonal post-bebop improvising language from one of its masters. No one owns that medium-slow loping swing tempo of "Dear Ruth" quite like Walton. A true privilege to be in his company.
I had to leave early for a photo op with the Kalmunity Vibe Collective. Last night, the marquee of Metropolis read: SARAH MK; KALMUNITY; NOMADIC MASSIVE. It was "A Great Day in Montreal." The Kalmunity collective is responsible directly for six shows in this year's programming; factor in the extended family of Nomadic Massive and Wesli and the count grows to nine. Kalmunity is a true incubator of talent in this city, and to me it is what sets Montreal's creative culture apart from all other scenes. The ability to unite artists across disciplines and genres to create art improvised in the moment is an experience unlike any other I've found. That they've been doing it every Tuesday for 9 years (with maybe a month or two pause a couple of years ago when we had to change venues) is nothing short of astonishing.
While Kalmunity was paying tribute to the late hip-hop producer J Dilla at the Savoy, I ran over to get my dose of Afro-Caribbean vinyl with the Canicule Tropicale crew. DJs Kobal, Philippe Noël and Sugarface Nene dug deep in their crates for a joyful selection of cumbia, salsa, samba and Afrobeat while Gene "Starship" Pendon displayed his handiwork in live painting beside the decks.
Thursday, July 05, 2012
FIJM Day 7: Feets don't fail me now!
Even though other shows might in the end be higher on my list of favourites, yesterday was easily the strongest single day of programming at the Festival.
My evening began at the 6 pm L'Astral series featuring Montreal bassist Adrian Vedady with drummer John Fraboni and their invited pianist, Marc Copland. Copland described the trio's work as "painting sound pictures." A more than apt description for his own sound on the instrument. Opening with Joni Mitchell's "Don't Know Where I Stand," Copland displayed a uniquely adventurous harmonic sense, fanning outward from diatonicism to incorporating the most tense of intervals as if they were the most natural note choices. His round tone out of the instrument and his often motivically-structured improvisational taste helped convey that idea, too. Copland's been playing with Vedady and Fraboni for a couple of years now, and their simpatico was clear in the flowing rubato of Copland's "Rainbow's End," with Vedady and Copland stating the melody in a tandem borne of listening and experience. Vedady was a more conventional solo voice than Copland, but no less captivating, with a warm, resonant tone. Fraboni, as always, provided impeccable support, and brought to bear his time spent in New Orleans in the second set, reframing Ron Carter's "Eighty-One" somewhere between ECM washiness and a dancing boogaloo. The two sets featured mostly standards that were often drastically re-harmonized (I wish I had recorded that version of "Greensleeves"; "Blue in Green underwent a similar harmonic enrichment) or re-envisioned ("My Funny Valentine" played at an uptempo). As with Copland's playing, these new approaches to old tunes never felt forced, but rather the most logical and appropriate reworking in the world. Peter Hum has sang the praises of Copland to me in the past and now I must do my due diligence on his previous work.
From there, I headed to one of the most-anticipated shows of the year for me: T.P, Orchestre Poly-Rythmo de Cotonou. This proto-Afrobeat group from Benin has been revitalized by reissues on Soundway, and seemed to maintain as many original members as possible. Playing to a very warm reception by a half-capacity Club Soda, the band energetically and enthusiastically delivered two sets of their most beloved tunes. For me, the links between West African music of the 1960s and 1970s with salsa is not only intriguing from a musicological perspective, but kicks my feet into motion like little else. I was surprised at how many people in the crowd were singing along with the lyrics. I can't really speak to the specific history of this band: I got to know them through the re-issues and I focus more on the music than the words. I had the same feeling as when I saw Orchestra Baobab in the same venue a few years ago: just to be in the same room as these legends, who are still playing fantastically well, makes the concert beyond reproach.
The fact that it was half-capacity, though, speaks to an issue I have tended to have with the Festival over the years. The promotion and publicity machine seems to create this cyclical interaction between attendance and coverage: all the advertising I see focuses on big names (Seal, Norah Jones, Esperanza, Rufus Wainwright) that are likely to sell out - or in the case of Rufus, draw big crowds - anyway. The lesser-known groups like Poly-Rythmo are not often featured in the print or subway ads. They're not profiled in the media to the same degree. What I would love to see is the Festival make a point of drawing people's attention to these half-empty shows, which are consistently fantastic if under-attended, because if the ENTIRE Festival programming can be as close to full house as possible, that will make life better for artists and programmers alike.
Leaving Club Soda for the SAT, I walked in on Joyo Velarde belting out a cover of the Isley Brothers' "It's Your Thing" for a smattering of people. The Festival had mentioned Lyrics Born would be performing with a live band - they neglected to mention it was his James Brown tribute set! [/end rant] The MC returned to the stage to join his "LBs" in a rendition of the Godfather's "Get Up Offa That Thing." From that point forward the band (populated by some of the Bay Area's finest, including some of the Jazz Mafia crew) unrelentingly dealt in old-school R&B and hip-hop showmanship. I do tire of the constant goading to "make some noise" but in this case it fit in the context of the show. Bassist and bandleader Uriah Duffy put together a phenomenal set, and indulged in a mid-set solo of slapping and other bass pyrotechnics (spinning his bass around his neck, etc). A perfect way to send off the Festival's 4th of July.
My evening began at the 6 pm L'Astral series featuring Montreal bassist Adrian Vedady with drummer John Fraboni and their invited pianist, Marc Copland. Copland described the trio's work as "painting sound pictures." A more than apt description for his own sound on the instrument. Opening with Joni Mitchell's "Don't Know Where I Stand," Copland displayed a uniquely adventurous harmonic sense, fanning outward from diatonicism to incorporating the most tense of intervals as if they were the most natural note choices. His round tone out of the instrument and his often motivically-structured improvisational taste helped convey that idea, too. Copland's been playing with Vedady and Fraboni for a couple of years now, and their simpatico was clear in the flowing rubato of Copland's "Rainbow's End," with Vedady and Copland stating the melody in a tandem borne of listening and experience. Vedady was a more conventional solo voice than Copland, but no less captivating, with a warm, resonant tone. Fraboni, as always, provided impeccable support, and brought to bear his time spent in New Orleans in the second set, reframing Ron Carter's "Eighty-One" somewhere between ECM washiness and a dancing boogaloo. The two sets featured mostly standards that were often drastically re-harmonized (I wish I had recorded that version of "Greensleeves"; "Blue in Green underwent a similar harmonic enrichment) or re-envisioned ("My Funny Valentine" played at an uptempo). As with Copland's playing, these new approaches to old tunes never felt forced, but rather the most logical and appropriate reworking in the world. Peter Hum has sang the praises of Copland to me in the past and now I must do my due diligence on his previous work.
From there, I headed to one of the most-anticipated shows of the year for me: T.P, Orchestre Poly-Rythmo de Cotonou. This proto-Afrobeat group from Benin has been revitalized by reissues on Soundway, and seemed to maintain as many original members as possible. Playing to a very warm reception by a half-capacity Club Soda, the band energetically and enthusiastically delivered two sets of their most beloved tunes. For me, the links between West African music of the 1960s and 1970s with salsa is not only intriguing from a musicological perspective, but kicks my feet into motion like little else. I was surprised at how many people in the crowd were singing along with the lyrics. I can't really speak to the specific history of this band: I got to know them through the re-issues and I focus more on the music than the words. I had the same feeling as when I saw Orchestra Baobab in the same venue a few years ago: just to be in the same room as these legends, who are still playing fantastically well, makes the concert beyond reproach.
The fact that it was half-capacity, though, speaks to an issue I have tended to have with the Festival over the years. The promotion and publicity machine seems to create this cyclical interaction between attendance and coverage: all the advertising I see focuses on big names (Seal, Norah Jones, Esperanza, Rufus Wainwright) that are likely to sell out - or in the case of Rufus, draw big crowds - anyway. The lesser-known groups like Poly-Rythmo are not often featured in the print or subway ads. They're not profiled in the media to the same degree. What I would love to see is the Festival make a point of drawing people's attention to these half-empty shows, which are consistently fantastic if under-attended, because if the ENTIRE Festival programming can be as close to full house as possible, that will make life better for artists and programmers alike.
Leaving Club Soda for the SAT, I walked in on Joyo Velarde belting out a cover of the Isley Brothers' "It's Your Thing" for a smattering of people. The Festival had mentioned Lyrics Born would be performing with a live band - they neglected to mention it was his James Brown tribute set! [/end rant] The MC returned to the stage to join his "LBs" in a rendition of the Godfather's "Get Up Offa That Thing." From that point forward the band (populated by some of the Bay Area's finest, including some of the Jazz Mafia crew) unrelentingly dealt in old-school R&B and hip-hop showmanship. I do tire of the constant goading to "make some noise" but in this case it fit in the context of the show. Bassist and bandleader Uriah Duffy put together a phenomenal set, and indulged in a mid-set solo of slapping and other bass pyrotechnics (spinning his bass around his neck, etc). A perfect way to send off the Festival's 4th of July.
Wednesday, July 04, 2012
FIJM Day 6: salons & dancefloors
Last evening's festivities began with Brazilian guitarist and songwriter Márcio Faraco, accompanied only by pianist Philippe Baden Powell de Aquino (and yes, he is the son of the legendary composer and guitarist). In the intimate confines of Savoy, it felt like we were all part of a roda de samba or a house concert. Faraco has that breathy, conversational way of singing that so many post-Joao Gilberto singer-songwriters have. It is truly a challenge for a pianist to accompany a guitarist in the Brazilian tradition - Faraco's playing, especially, is so harmonically and rhythmically complete that the pianist's role is to provide support and colour without getting in the way. Philippe did this superbly, and was also a very strong soloist. Faraco's songs are inspired by places and people, true story songs that alternate between being personal ("Constantina") and political ("Adrenaline," and another tune whose name I forget, a carimbo dedicated at first to Qaddafi and then more generally to life). Previous to Jazz Fest I had never heard of either of these musicians; they were easily my discovery of the festival.
Off I was to L'Astral to check out Belgian pianist Jef Neve. I had heard some of his previous work in passing, and was upset to have missed his duo shows a few years back with José James. With his trio of Ruben Samana on bass and Teun Verbruggen on drums, Neve wasted no time in diving into a propulsive, energetic set. Opening with a rumbling intro, and Samana processing his voice through effects, "The Space Beneath" was a rocking tune with a long form reminiscent of many contemporary jazz composers. The sheer force of the trio was infectious - Neve was playing the piano nearly standing up at moments, crouching in the same manner as Grégoire Maret a few nights earlier at the same venue. They continued with "Sofia," a simple, almost poppy song written while travelling through the Bulgarian capital. Verbruggen unleashed a small arsenal of toys, creating feedback and effects from his kit. Verbruggen was also impressive with his patient minimalism on the ballad "Saying Goodbye on a Small Ugly White Piano." Throughout the set, Neve called to mind Brad Mehldau, in the way he constructed lines and the manner in which he shades the most simple of melodies. He lacks Mehldau's contrapuntal precision, as the lines in "Seldom Seen Here Before" blended together without each note always speaking individually. "Exuberance" is a word that's been coming up in my Jazz Fest notes frequently this year, and Neve's trio was no exception.
Also exuberant in their own way was the live disco orchestra, Escort. Tasked with headlining the traditional mid-festival outdoor extravaganza, they more than lived up to the hype and to the challenge. Walking out of L'Astral into a pulsating four-on-the-floor beat, the band was supremely tight, with two percussionists and a drummer sounding like a single kit. With a setlist paced like a DJ set (and my DJ friends were boogieing down hard), the groove never let up. Lead vocalist Adeline spoke to the crowd mostly in French, humourously filling the band in on what she was saying. A powerful singer, her tone tended more towards rock than the churchy house or disco diva sound, which suited the band. Soloists like trombonist Ryan Keberle (also of Darcy James Argue's Secret Society) had ample room to stretch out. The repertoire included a cover of Donna Summer's "Bad Girls" (impeccably recreated, I must say) and they ended with some French disco tune which I couldn't place but predictably lit up the crowd. A special mention to whoever designed the lighting scheme for the big stage, and whoever had the idea to hang a massive disco ball over the Place des Festivals. Bravo!
Off I was to L'Astral to check out Belgian pianist Jef Neve. I had heard some of his previous work in passing, and was upset to have missed his duo shows a few years back with José James. With his trio of Ruben Samana on bass and Teun Verbruggen on drums, Neve wasted no time in diving into a propulsive, energetic set. Opening with a rumbling intro, and Samana processing his voice through effects, "The Space Beneath" was a rocking tune with a long form reminiscent of many contemporary jazz composers. The sheer force of the trio was infectious - Neve was playing the piano nearly standing up at moments, crouching in the same manner as Grégoire Maret a few nights earlier at the same venue. They continued with "Sofia," a simple, almost poppy song written while travelling through the Bulgarian capital. Verbruggen unleashed a small arsenal of toys, creating feedback and effects from his kit. Verbruggen was also impressive with his patient minimalism on the ballad "Saying Goodbye on a Small Ugly White Piano." Throughout the set, Neve called to mind Brad Mehldau, in the way he constructed lines and the manner in which he shades the most simple of melodies. He lacks Mehldau's contrapuntal precision, as the lines in "Seldom Seen Here Before" blended together without each note always speaking individually. "Exuberance" is a word that's been coming up in my Jazz Fest notes frequently this year, and Neve's trio was no exception.
Also exuberant in their own way was the live disco orchestra, Escort. Tasked with headlining the traditional mid-festival outdoor extravaganza, they more than lived up to the hype and to the challenge. Walking out of L'Astral into a pulsating four-on-the-floor beat, the band was supremely tight, with two percussionists and a drummer sounding like a single kit. With a setlist paced like a DJ set (and my DJ friends were boogieing down hard), the groove never let up. Lead vocalist Adeline spoke to the crowd mostly in French, humourously filling the band in on what she was saying. A powerful singer, her tone tended more towards rock than the churchy house or disco diva sound, which suited the band. Soloists like trombonist Ryan Keberle (also of Darcy James Argue's Secret Society) had ample room to stretch out. The repertoire included a cover of Donna Summer's "Bad Girls" (impeccably recreated, I must say) and they ended with some French disco tune which I couldn't place but predictably lit up the crowd. A special mention to whoever designed the lighting scheme for the big stage, and whoever had the idea to hang a massive disco ball over the Place des Festivals. Bravo!
We interrupt your regularly scheduled coverage
... for this important announcement. ALICUANTA NEEDS YOUR SUPPORT!
ALICUANTA is my latest project, co-composed with vocalist Gitanjali Jain Serrano. Set to the texts of poet Francisco Serrano, it's a "staged song cycle" scored for voice, piano/electronics, bass, drums, cajón and string quartet. Alongside lighting and set designer Laird Macdonald, visual artist Pablo Serrano Dakán, and dancer/choreographer Danny Wild and our 7 other wonderful musicians, the piece explores the legacy of General Francisco Roque Serrano (1889-1927), a mysterious and influential figure of post-Revolution Mexico. An ardent anti-re-electionist, General Serrano was brutally tortured and assassinated by his opponent during the presidential campaign of 1927. And if you notice a lot of Serranos in the above listing - Francisco Serrano (the poet) is the General's grandson, Pablo's father and Gitanjali's uncle.
We are pleased to announce that ALICUANTA will be premiered in its fully staged form FRIDAY NOVEMBER 2, 2012 (Dia de los muertos) at Salle Gesù (1200 Bleury). While we gratefully acknowledge the funding from the Conseil des arts et des lettres du Québec, and the Canada Council for the Arts, we still need your additional support to make ALICUANTA the powerful multimedia experience we're planning. Please click on over to the Kickstarter and donate whatever you can, to help us reach our goal of $10,000 by August 2.
The seeds of this project started in 2007, when I randomly met Gitanjali in a now-non-existent East Village bar while I was studying at the BMI Jazz Composers Workshop. When we both returned to Montreal, we talked about how I wanted to write more to the work of Latin American poets. She mentioned that her uncle was a poet, and we met over coffee to read his work. Immediately, many of his poems sparked my compositional interest. Given Gitanjali's extensive background in theatre and my longstanding desire to take on an interdisciplinary project, we decided to create a full-on show. It's been two years of working, creating, rehearsing (and a little bit of arguing) but I am proud that this show can finally come to its full fruition, with your support.
The ALICUANTA team: Francisco Serrano - texts; Gitanjali Jain Serrano - co-composer, director, voice; David Ryshpan - co-composer, piano, sound design; Corinne Raymond Jarczyk - violin; Stephanie Park - violin; Lilian Belknap - viola; Amahl Arulanandam - cello; Sébastien Pellerin - bass; Mark Nelson - drums; Laird Macdonald - lighting & set design; Pablo Serrano Dakán - artwork & projection design; Danny Wild - dance/choreography.
ALICUANTA is my latest project, co-composed with vocalist Gitanjali Jain Serrano. Set to the texts of poet Francisco Serrano, it's a "staged song cycle" scored for voice, piano/electronics, bass, drums, cajón and string quartet. Alongside lighting and set designer Laird Macdonald, visual artist Pablo Serrano Dakán, and dancer/choreographer Danny Wild and our 7 other wonderful musicians, the piece explores the legacy of General Francisco Roque Serrano (1889-1927), a mysterious and influential figure of post-Revolution Mexico. An ardent anti-re-electionist, General Serrano was brutally tortured and assassinated by his opponent during the presidential campaign of 1927. And if you notice a lot of Serranos in the above listing - Francisco Serrano (the poet) is the General's grandson, Pablo's father and Gitanjali's uncle.
We are pleased to announce that ALICUANTA will be premiered in its fully staged form FRIDAY NOVEMBER 2, 2012 (Dia de los muertos) at Salle Gesù (1200 Bleury). While we gratefully acknowledge the funding from the Conseil des arts et des lettres du Québec, and the Canada Council for the Arts, we still need your additional support to make ALICUANTA the powerful multimedia experience we're planning. Please click on over to the Kickstarter and donate whatever you can, to help us reach our goal of $10,000 by August 2.
The seeds of this project started in 2007, when I randomly met Gitanjali in a now-non-existent East Village bar while I was studying at the BMI Jazz Composers Workshop. When we both returned to Montreal, we talked about how I wanted to write more to the work of Latin American poets. She mentioned that her uncle was a poet, and we met over coffee to read his work. Immediately, many of his poems sparked my compositional interest. Given Gitanjali's extensive background in theatre and my longstanding desire to take on an interdisciplinary project, we decided to create a full-on show. It's been two years of working, creating, rehearsing (and a little bit of arguing) but I am proud that this show can finally come to its full fruition, with your support.
The ALICUANTA team: Francisco Serrano - texts; Gitanjali Jain Serrano - co-composer, director, voice; David Ryshpan - co-composer, piano, sound design; Corinne Raymond Jarczyk - violin; Stephanie Park - violin; Lilian Belknap - viola; Amahl Arulanandam - cello; Sébastien Pellerin - bass; Mark Nelson - drums; Laird Macdonald - lighting & set design; Pablo Serrano Dakán - artwork & projection design; Danny Wild - dance/choreography.
Tuesday, July 03, 2012
FIJM Day 5: The Devil's Music
Monday was a slow day at the festival for me. Outside of the media events, I had no tickets and planned on just walking around the outdoor stages.
I missed the first portion of the Ron Carter press conference, stuck in traffic. I caught enough of it to realize that Carter is as cogent a speaker as he is a player. When asked about how he feels when journalists rely on his work with Miles Davis and don't ask him about the rest of his long and storied career, he gave a very diplomatic response: he used to get upset at the ignorance and lack of preparedness, but now he uses those situations to educate the journalists (and hopefully their readers) in the missing pieces of the puzzle. I had the chance to ask about his peak recording period in the late 60s/early 70s, moving between electric and upright, from Joe Henderson to Airto to Gil Scott-Heron, and his reply was simply that he tried to make each session sound like he belonged in that band. Brilliant advice to any musician.
I'm a big fan of media rehearsals. They give the media a behind-the-scenes view of the nuts and bolts of a large production, and also give the artists a specified time for flash-blindness. There was an open rehearsal for The Devil's Music: The Life and Blues of Bessie Smith, written by playwright Angelo Parra and featuring Miche Braden. Walking into Cinquième Salle of Place des Arts, there was a beautiful set and ambient wash of light, while the techs were busy fixing follow spots and sorting out the sound. While in the media rehearsal, we didn't hear many full songs or even get a sense of the arc of the show, but it was enough to intrigue me into finding a ticket for the opening.
Braden has previously portrayed the lives of Mahalia Jackson and Ma Rainey on stage. Revitalizing the legacies of influential singers from bygone eras seems to be something of an artistic mission statement for her. She's got a big, soulful voice, that evokes Bessie Smith without being a strict imitator. Through the 90-minute show, the history of Smith's tumultuous hard living was elegantly interwoven with the songs. Surrounded by a trio of pianist Aaron Graves, Jim Hankins on bass, and saxophonist Keith Loftis, the musicians are also called upon to act a little bit. Loftis' raunchy duo with Braden is the one of the many high points of the show. The majority of it is raunchy, bawdy and hilarious, and Braden certainly knows how to play to the crowd. She also shows the emotions of Bessie behind the masks of alcohol and sex; in the final act, when Smith's life unravels, Braden cut to the core. Originally produced by the Penguin Rep Theater in New York and after a successful off-Broadway run, this is a show definitely worth seeing and a textbook example of how biographical musicals, or jukebox musicals, should be structured.
I missed the first portion of the Ron Carter press conference, stuck in traffic. I caught enough of it to realize that Carter is as cogent a speaker as he is a player. When asked about how he feels when journalists rely on his work with Miles Davis and don't ask him about the rest of his long and storied career, he gave a very diplomatic response: he used to get upset at the ignorance and lack of preparedness, but now he uses those situations to educate the journalists (and hopefully their readers) in the missing pieces of the puzzle. I had the chance to ask about his peak recording period in the late 60s/early 70s, moving between electric and upright, from Joe Henderson to Airto to Gil Scott-Heron, and his reply was simply that he tried to make each session sound like he belonged in that band. Brilliant advice to any musician.
I'm a big fan of media rehearsals. They give the media a behind-the-scenes view of the nuts and bolts of a large production, and also give the artists a specified time for flash-blindness. There was an open rehearsal for The Devil's Music: The Life and Blues of Bessie Smith, written by playwright Angelo Parra and featuring Miche Braden. Walking into Cinquième Salle of Place des Arts, there was a beautiful set and ambient wash of light, while the techs were busy fixing follow spots and sorting out the sound. While in the media rehearsal, we didn't hear many full songs or even get a sense of the arc of the show, but it was enough to intrigue me into finding a ticket for the opening.
Braden has previously portrayed the lives of Mahalia Jackson and Ma Rainey on stage. Revitalizing the legacies of influential singers from bygone eras seems to be something of an artistic mission statement for her. She's got a big, soulful voice, that evokes Bessie Smith without being a strict imitator. Through the 90-minute show, the history of Smith's tumultuous hard living was elegantly interwoven with the songs. Surrounded by a trio of pianist Aaron Graves, Jim Hankins on bass, and saxophonist Keith Loftis, the musicians are also called upon to act a little bit. Loftis' raunchy duo with Braden is the one of the many high points of the show. The majority of it is raunchy, bawdy and hilarious, and Braden certainly knows how to play to the crowd. She also shows the emotions of Bessie behind the masks of alcohol and sex; in the final act, when Smith's life unravels, Braden cut to the core. Originally produced by the Penguin Rep Theater in New York and after a successful off-Broadway run, this is a show definitely worth seeing and a textbook example of how biographical musicals, or jukebox musicals, should be structured.
Sunday, July 01, 2012
FIJM Day 3: Internacional
The day started early with an interview with Curumin. I thought I was running late but the Brazilian singer/multi-instrumentalist walked into the press room right behind me. We had a conversation about his production tastes and the reality of the Brazilian music market here and abroad.
During the cocktail to welcome international media, André Ménard gave a brief speech honouring longtime WBGO host and Down Beat contributor Michael Bourne. Bourne has been coming to the Montreal Jazz Fest for 20 years - missing only one edition a few years back when he had a heart attack - and he's been a tireless advocate for the festival on a consistent basis. Ménard presented him with a "black pass," a permanent accreditation for the Festival, and re-baptized the press room in Bourne's name. It was clear that Bourne was visibly moved. It's special for me because Bourne's critical voice has been influential on me since I've started reading Down Beat in 1992 (the same year as his first visit to the festival). Part of it all, too, made me miss our own local, indefatigable encyclopedia of jazz, Len Dobbin.
I caught the second half of Alex Côté's set on the TD stage. It's always a blast to see my friends projected larger than life on those massive screens, and it's a bit of a strange feeling to see an acoustic jazz quintet on such a large stage. Playing music from his recent record, Transitions, Côté proved again why he's a force on the local scene. As I remarked to saxophonist Joel Miller, there's so many great composers in this town. The front line of Côté's alto and Dave Mossing's trumpet navigated the tricky lines with facility and precision. Jonathan Cayer's piano sounded better than usual outside, as did Kevin Warren's drums, with Dave Watts the walking superglue of it all.
I had been looking forward to Maria Farinha's set, a Brazilian singer living in Toronto. She brought the top-tier guys from that city with her: guitarist Roy Patterson, with a beautiful nylon-string sound and switching to a sparkly silver electric for one tune; bassist Kieran Overs, whose arco sound was warm and huge from the Rio Tinto Alcan stage's system; percussionist extraordinaire Maninho Costa; drummer Ethan Ardelli, on a night off from the Ottawa jazz festival session; and saxophonist and flutist Allison Au. Maria's music tended towards the polite bossa nova and early MPB, mostly drawn from her new album. I'm not sure why she felt compelled to introduce every tune with long descriptions, but it interrupted the momentum of the set. Ardelli is a fantastic drummer, but I had never thought of him as one of the premier Latin or Brazilian drummers in Toronto, and the hookup between him and Maninho seemed to falter at times. Her rendition of João Bosco's "Pra que discutir com madame" finally sparked the band into that swingue that I love so much.
The last time, and previously only time, I had seen harmonica player Grégoire Maret had been alongside Pat Metheny many years ago. Back with his own band at L'Astral, his set drew heavily from his recently released eponymous album. Opening with "Crepuscule," Federico Gonzales Peña coaxed sweeping expansive pads from a Korg Triton, with Clarence Penn's egg shaker and sidestick for support before the tune switched to a galloping ride. The Metheny references were plentiful in Maret's own music - the main section of "Crepuscule" had a soaring melody reminiscent of the guitarist, and Peña's synth patch selections flirted with the dark side of '90s smooth jazz, fake choral "oohs" and all. Matt Brewer was on fretless electric bass, and his octave lines and wide vibrato recalled Jaco, though his note choices were more adventurous. Like Brewer, Maret nodded at the tradition of his instrument, with minimal bends, trills and scoops reminiscent of Toots Thielemans. At the climaxes of this suite, the rhythm section threatened to overpower him at times, although this may have been a function of the sound. They continued with an intimate duo between Maret and Peña on acoustic piano; an artistic partnership that goes back nearly a decade to their work with Meshell Ndegeocello and their co-led group, Gaïa. Peña's playing is full of soul and deep churchiness; his colouristic sense is very high, orchestrating on the fly between piano, Rhodes and synth. Their version of Stevie Wonder's "Secret Life of Plants" featured Brewer on upright, and demonstrated the love that all four players share for song craft. The final tune, "Manha do sol," was basically a showcase for Penn and Maret. Starting with a great traditional samba feel, Maret turned towards Penn for his solo and goaded him into strong rhythmic interplay, crouching, leaping and bending on stage. The highlight of the set, and of my night, unquestionably.
During the cocktail to welcome international media, André Ménard gave a brief speech honouring longtime WBGO host and Down Beat contributor Michael Bourne. Bourne has been coming to the Montreal Jazz Fest for 20 years - missing only one edition a few years back when he had a heart attack - and he's been a tireless advocate for the festival on a consistent basis. Ménard presented him with a "black pass," a permanent accreditation for the Festival, and re-baptized the press room in Bourne's name. It was clear that Bourne was visibly moved. It's special for me because Bourne's critical voice has been influential on me since I've started reading Down Beat in 1992 (the same year as his first visit to the festival). Part of it all, too, made me miss our own local, indefatigable encyclopedia of jazz, Len Dobbin.
I caught the second half of Alex Côté's set on the TD stage. It's always a blast to see my friends projected larger than life on those massive screens, and it's a bit of a strange feeling to see an acoustic jazz quintet on such a large stage. Playing music from his recent record, Transitions, Côté proved again why he's a force on the local scene. As I remarked to saxophonist Joel Miller, there's so many great composers in this town. The front line of Côté's alto and Dave Mossing's trumpet navigated the tricky lines with facility and precision. Jonathan Cayer's piano sounded better than usual outside, as did Kevin Warren's drums, with Dave Watts the walking superglue of it all.
I had been looking forward to Maria Farinha's set, a Brazilian singer living in Toronto. She brought the top-tier guys from that city with her: guitarist Roy Patterson, with a beautiful nylon-string sound and switching to a sparkly silver electric for one tune; bassist Kieran Overs, whose arco sound was warm and huge from the Rio Tinto Alcan stage's system; percussionist extraordinaire Maninho Costa; drummer Ethan Ardelli, on a night off from the Ottawa jazz festival session; and saxophonist and flutist Allison Au. Maria's music tended towards the polite bossa nova and early MPB, mostly drawn from her new album. I'm not sure why she felt compelled to introduce every tune with long descriptions, but it interrupted the momentum of the set. Ardelli is a fantastic drummer, but I had never thought of him as one of the premier Latin or Brazilian drummers in Toronto, and the hookup between him and Maninho seemed to falter at times. Her rendition of João Bosco's "Pra que discutir com madame" finally sparked the band into that swingue that I love so much.
The last time, and previously only time, I had seen harmonica player Grégoire Maret had been alongside Pat Metheny many years ago. Back with his own band at L'Astral, his set drew heavily from his recently released eponymous album. Opening with "Crepuscule," Federico Gonzales Peña coaxed sweeping expansive pads from a Korg Triton, with Clarence Penn's egg shaker and sidestick for support before the tune switched to a galloping ride. The Metheny references were plentiful in Maret's own music - the main section of "Crepuscule" had a soaring melody reminiscent of the guitarist, and Peña's synth patch selections flirted with the dark side of '90s smooth jazz, fake choral "oohs" and all. Matt Brewer was on fretless electric bass, and his octave lines and wide vibrato recalled Jaco, though his note choices were more adventurous. Like Brewer, Maret nodded at the tradition of his instrument, with minimal bends, trills and scoops reminiscent of Toots Thielemans. At the climaxes of this suite, the rhythm section threatened to overpower him at times, although this may have been a function of the sound. They continued with an intimate duo between Maret and Peña on acoustic piano; an artistic partnership that goes back nearly a decade to their work with Meshell Ndegeocello and their co-led group, Gaïa. Peña's playing is full of soul and deep churchiness; his colouristic sense is very high, orchestrating on the fly between piano, Rhodes and synth. Their version of Stevie Wonder's "Secret Life of Plants" featured Brewer on upright, and demonstrated the love that all four players share for song craft. The final tune, "Manha do sol," was basically a showcase for Penn and Maret. Starting with a great traditional samba feel, Maret turned towards Penn for his solo and goaded him into strong rhythmic interplay, crouching, leaping and bending on stage. The highlight of the set, and of my night, unquestionably.
***
From there it was off to see CéU, another proponent of the new generation of Brazilian popular musicians from São Paulo. I was too busy dancing to take notes for this one. The set was drawn from all three of her albums, with less of a focus on the new one, Caravana Sereia Bloom, than I had imagined. A hallmark of the Brazilian musicians I love is that, even while their focus might be on other styles of music, there is always a touchstone of Brazilian history in their songs. The piece CéU wrote for her daughter (whose name I didn't catch) was a gorgeous incantation in the vein of traditional Brazilian folk songs, brought into another realm by DJ Marco's electronics and scratches. Her cover of Jimi Hendrix's "Electric Ladyland" caught me off guard. The influence of reggae runs deep in Brazil, and their cover of Marley's "Concrete Jungle," as well as CéU's own often dubby tunes, provided a showcase for the pocket of bassist Lucas Martins and drummer Bruno Buarque. They ended the set with "Rainha," which CéU dedicated to the founders of Afrobeat, Fela Kuti and Tony Allen. A beautiful show that did nothing to ease my saudade.
Saturday, June 30, 2012
FIJM Day 2 - guitars and quartets
Another day full of music and insight. The morning began with producer, archivist and historian Michael Cuscuna being awarded the Festival's Bruce Lundvall Prize, reserved for an industry person or non-musician integral to the development of the music. Cuscuna, a long-time lynchpin of Blue Note's revival and the head of Mosaic, is the perfect recipient. The press conference consisted of Cuscuna being interviewed by WBGO's Michael Bourne, with Cuscuna's recollections of the industry past and present, and lightly skeptical outlook towards the future.
From there, I explored the Guitar Show. I'm not a guitarist by any stretch of the imagination, but the beautiful luthierie on display is a great immersive art exhibit. I've also got a soft spot for Tele-style guitars with humbuckers, and anything to do with slide or steel guitar. Not that I can play any of it.
Becca Stevens, however, has a command of various stringed instruments. In her set at Upstairs, she switched between acoustic guitar, ukulele and Peruvian charango. With her band of Liam Robinson on accordion and piano, Chris Tordini on bass and Jordan Perlson on drums and cajón, she performed a bunch of new tunes as well as songs from her album Weightless. Beginning with the joyful exaltation of "Tillery" - "may we shout and may we sing" - it was an introduction to the three-part vocal harmonies (all except Perlson sang) that permeated the show. The harmony parts are sometimes simple unisons, but are usually far more intricate than that. She has a penchant for melodies that seem hauntingly familiar, delivered with a tender innocence. Stevens' rhythmic complexity is far more subtle than her Tillery counterpart Gretchen Parlato, left to the interlocking guitar and piano parts of "Be Still" or the polyrhythmic claps of "Canyon Dust." Perlson provides the perfect support for this band, easily switching from the deep, thudding backbeat on "Jac" to traditional mastery of the cajón, often playing both kit and cajón simultaneously. I discovered the band through their cover of Seal's "Kiss from a Rose," which they reprised here with more abandon. Their version of Joni Mitchell's "Help Me" was far more rhythmically propulsive than the original.
I ran over to Metropolis for a snippet of Esperanza Spalding and her Radio Music Society. Beginning with an introduction of tuning a radio to the proper frequency, the little big band launched into an almost James Brown-style series of introductory solos. For all the press that's been written about Spalding's pop cultural cachet, the beginning of the show was the jazziest I've ever heard Esperanza be, anchoring her band through a slow burning swing. Her monologues that preceded each tune were rehearsed but allowed room for flowing with the vibe of the room. I left at the end of her great arrangement of Stevie Wonder's "I Can't Help It." All reports were that the rest of the show was equally mesmerizing.
From there, I explored the Guitar Show. I'm not a guitarist by any stretch of the imagination, but the beautiful luthierie on display is a great immersive art exhibit. I've also got a soft spot for Tele-style guitars with humbuckers, and anything to do with slide or steel guitar. Not that I can play any of it.
Becca Stevens, however, has a command of various stringed instruments. In her set at Upstairs, she switched between acoustic guitar, ukulele and Peruvian charango. With her band of Liam Robinson on accordion and piano, Chris Tordini on bass and Jordan Perlson on drums and cajón, she performed a bunch of new tunes as well as songs from her album Weightless. Beginning with the joyful exaltation of "Tillery" - "may we shout and may we sing" - it was an introduction to the three-part vocal harmonies (all except Perlson sang) that permeated the show. The harmony parts are sometimes simple unisons, but are usually far more intricate than that. She has a penchant for melodies that seem hauntingly familiar, delivered with a tender innocence. Stevens' rhythmic complexity is far more subtle than her Tillery counterpart Gretchen Parlato, left to the interlocking guitar and piano parts of "Be Still" or the polyrhythmic claps of "Canyon Dust." Perlson provides the perfect support for this band, easily switching from the deep, thudding backbeat on "Jac" to traditional mastery of the cajón, often playing both kit and cajón simultaneously. I discovered the band through their cover of Seal's "Kiss from a Rose," which they reprised here with more abandon. Their version of Joni Mitchell's "Help Me" was far more rhythmically propulsive than the original.
***
I ran over to Metropolis for a snippet of Esperanza Spalding and her Radio Music Society. Beginning with an introduction of tuning a radio to the proper frequency, the little big band launched into an almost James Brown-style series of introductory solos. For all the press that's been written about Spalding's pop cultural cachet, the beginning of the show was the jazziest I've ever heard Esperanza be, anchoring her band through a slow burning swing. Her monologues that preceded each tune were rehearsed but allowed room for flowing with the vibe of the room. I left at the end of her great arrangement of Stevie Wonder's "I Can't Help It." All reports were that the rest of the show was equally mesmerizing.
***
I'm not entirely sure what to write about the Wayne Shorter Quartet that hasn't already been written many times over. The harmonic and rhythmic simpatico between these guys is nearly unparalleled, snippets of tunes coming in and leaving, coming together in a truly powerful way. I couldn't identify the names of any of the tunes they played, and in a sense that didn't matter, because the purpose of what they do lies in each individual moment and doesn't necessarily need the context of what tune they may or may not be playing. The show opened with John Pattitucci's gorgeous arco bass, with Wayne and Danilo Pérez cascading chromatically overtop. Shorter seemed to grow stronger through the course of the show. His tenor sound was surrounded by air and saliva, but his soprano was all core tone. To be in the presence of that sound - that sound! - for the first time was an unforgettable experience. Wayne clearly leads the discussion and the shape of the music, even when he's not playing. Leaving lots of space for Pérez's interludes and cadenzas, it's as if the three of them are an extension of Shorter's unplayed sound. The sheer muscularity with which Brian Blade addresses the drums is pure visceral exuberance. At the end of the first tune, all four of them were rightfully filled with glee over the impossible tightness with which they concluded the piece. Sporting ear-to-ear grins, they crossed the stage to high-five each other. If there were one moment to sum up the beauty of this band, that would be it.
During the show I was struck by the similarities between Wayne's quartet and the trio of Muhal Richard Abrams, Roscoe Mitchell, and George Lewis that I saw at Victo. Clearly, there are sonic differences between the two - Pérez is a much less angular player than Muhal - but the sense of freedom to pursue the moment (as evidenced by Shorter tapping his mouthpiece cover inside the piano and whistling into the mics) and the deep, intensely focused listening are identical. The sense that these are bands fostered on long relationships, I think, is also the key to their impressive mastery.
Friday, June 29, 2012
Jazz Fest Day 1 - Frisell & Porter
Bill Frisell has the ability to investigate every nook and cranny of a melody and draw new textures from it. Relying on the repertoire of John Lennon, this gift was in full display at Club Soda tonight. And who better to pay tribute to all sides of Lennon's musicality, from his originally skiffle and R&B influenced rhythm guitar chops to his experiments with tape loops, than Frisell? Alongside steel guitarist Greg Leisz. bassist Tony Scherr. and drummer Kenny Wollesen, the group reframed Lennon's work, sometimes in drastic ways, without ever straying too far from the tunes.
Sporting a Gibson ES-style semi-hollowbody axe - not a guitar I associate with him - Frisell and company came on stage after a kitschy orchestral version of "Yellow Submarine," without any prerecorded announcement. His swirling, delay-laden, celestial voicings led into a lightly deconstructed "Across the Universe," announced by repeating the "jai guru deva" section. This band deals in impossibly gradual crescendos, ratcheting up the energy in painstakingly incremental fashion. Frisell can lay into the simplest of melodies with the utmost conviction, and has the patience to stay there - "A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall" from East/West is the textbook example of this.
Frisell's relationships with these specific bandmates go back years, if not decades. The blend between Frisell and Leisz was so close, at times I couldn't tell who was creating what. Wollesen was clearly having a blast, laying into the backbeats of "Please Please Me" and gleefully referencing Ringo's tom fills of "Come Together." And if there's any bassist within the jazz realm who clearly understands Paul McCartney's bottom-end aesthetic of being melodic while also being glued to the kick drum, Scherr is it.
Once the melody of "You've Got To Hide Your Love Away" appeared out of a nearly Coltrane-ish modal excursion, Leisz and Frisell would coalesce their lines into a poignant, powerful downbeat. Frisell's dissonances never seemed to be tacked onto the songs: they seemed perfectly natural, like they had always been there, lurking under George Martin's production.
The final tune of the set, "In My Life," induced goosebumps and tears from its clarion opening theme. The piano solo became a recurring part of the arrangement, played in perfect tandem between Leisz and Frisell. Towards the end, Wollesen unleashed a train beat that morphed itself into a nearly Sonny Rollins-esque calypso, before detonating a long E-power-chord pedal that resolved itself to end the set. The two encores, "Strawberry Fields Forever" and "Imagine" were played more or less straight up, which is not to say they lacked innovation or beauty. Not by a long shot.
Sporting a Gibson ES-style semi-hollowbody axe - not a guitar I associate with him - Frisell and company came on stage after a kitschy orchestral version of "Yellow Submarine," without any prerecorded announcement. His swirling, delay-laden, celestial voicings led into a lightly deconstructed "Across the Universe," announced by repeating the "jai guru deva" section. This band deals in impossibly gradual crescendos, ratcheting up the energy in painstakingly incremental fashion. Frisell can lay into the simplest of melodies with the utmost conviction, and has the patience to stay there - "A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall" from East/West is the textbook example of this.
Frisell's relationships with these specific bandmates go back years, if not decades. The blend between Frisell and Leisz was so close, at times I couldn't tell who was creating what. Wollesen was clearly having a blast, laying into the backbeats of "Please Please Me" and gleefully referencing Ringo's tom fills of "Come Together." And if there's any bassist within the jazz realm who clearly understands Paul McCartney's bottom-end aesthetic of being melodic while also being glued to the kick drum, Scherr is it.
Once the melody of "You've Got To Hide Your Love Away" appeared out of a nearly Coltrane-ish modal excursion, Leisz and Frisell would coalesce their lines into a poignant, powerful downbeat. Frisell's dissonances never seemed to be tacked onto the songs: they seemed perfectly natural, like they had always been there, lurking under George Martin's production.
The final tune of the set, "In My Life," induced goosebumps and tears from its clarion opening theme. The piano solo became a recurring part of the arrangement, played in perfect tandem between Leisz and Frisell. Towards the end, Wollesen unleashed a train beat that morphed itself into a nearly Sonny Rollins-esque calypso, before detonating a long E-power-chord pedal that resolved itself to end the set. The two encores, "Strawberry Fields Forever" and "Imagine" were played more or less straight up, which is not to say they lacked innovation or beauty. Not by a long shot.
***
Gregory Porter is a new name to me. I had heard snippets on Bandcamp before, but my knowledge of his work was much more limited than my experience with Frisell, whom I have seen four times. Porter has a husky, classic soul-man baritone, with a Kurt Elling-like nasal rasp in his upper register. He has clear diction and a very disciplined sense of melisma. His between-song banter reminded me of Bill Withers' monologues from Live at Carnegie Hall. Clearly, he knows his history, with his original songs incorporating the classic Motown grooves (complete with a quote of "It's the Same Old Song") and take-no-prisoners swing.
Porter recounted the travel fiasco he and his bandmates encountered in arriving to Montreal. Perhaps that accounts for the kind of youthful raggedness of their sound. Aaron James' intonation on the bass was iffy in places, which made me think it wasn't his own instrument. Pianist Chip Crawford, in the first set, relied on his hands in unison - either octaves or tenths - spinning impressive, if hyperactive, lines. By the end of the two-and-a-half hours, I felt like he had run out of ideas, resorting to a series of glissandi on "Wisdom." Saxophonist Yosuke Sato had a piercing, poppy alto sound, and lacked Porter's restraint. Drummer Emmanuel Harold (I'll check the spelling of his name tomorrow) was a real revelation for me, anchoring the rhythmic feel of the band, from the gospel-meets-one-drop of "Mother's Song" to the Philly Joe Jones rim-click swing at the end of their version of Mingus' "Moanin'". When Porter was singing, the band gelled behind him admirably.
The sets were evenly split between Porter's originals and a repertoire of standards, notably including a fast version of Wayne Shorter's "Black Nile." This was followed by a gorgeous rendition of "Skylark" that was marred only by Rufus Wainwright's outdoor show leaking into the club. (Someone needs to get on soundproofing L'Astral, stat!) Even after two-and-a-half hours of barnburning soul-jazz, the audience demanded an encore. Running up against his curfew, Porter indulged with a short, sweet, a cappella rendition of "Mona Lisa."
Monday, June 25, 2012
2012 Montreal Jazz Festival - outdoor picks
The 33rd edition of the Montreal Jazz Festival unofficially kicks off in two evenings from now, with "pre-opening" concerts courtesy of Janelle Monáe and James Taylor (not, unfortunately, a double-bill). I profiled the indoor programming here; my picks for the must-see outdoor and free shows are below. There is once again an official jam session at the Hyatt hotel, hosted by pianist John Roney. The unofficial jams include the B3 organ hang over at Brutopia, hosted by Martin K. Petersen and company, and local Afrobeat dons Papagroove hold court at L'Absynthe for a few nights as well. And for all the people who grouse every year that the Festival is less and less jazzy (especially outdoors), keep reading.
June 28
Ivan Garzón Quartet (8 pm, CBC stage): I play with Ivan in Denis Chang's manouche quartet, where he plays rhythm guitar. He's also a fantastic post-bop electric player, and is in the running for the TD Grand Prix.
Marie-Christine (8 pm, Rio Tinto Alcan stage): One of the great rising soul and R&B singers in town, she's a commanding stage presence to match her voice.
June 29
Mike Essoudry's Mash Potato Mashers (4 & 6 pm, Heineken Lounge): Mike and I crossed paths at McGill. The Ottawa drummer's revisionist brass band is part of the daily afternoon brass-heavy madness throughout the festival.
Peripheral Vision (6 pm, TD stage): My buddies from Toronto, guitarist Don Scott and bassist Michael Herring, co-lead this quartet featuring their forward-thinking tunes. They're also nominated for the Prize.
Curumin (10 pm, Bell stage): If you missed his show three years ago on the same stage, prepare to be converted to this dubby, hip-hop-inflected Brazilian pop music. Curumin is undoubtedly the reason why my heart and my ears gravitate to São Paulo's music scene.
June 30
Alexandre Côté Quintet (6 pm, TD stage): Alex is an un(der)sung hero of the Montreal scene, as a saxophonist and as a composer. I'm privileged to play alongside him in Gary Schwartz's LETTINGO, and his writing always opens my eyes to new possibilities.
Maria Farinha Band (8 & 10 pm, Rio Tinto Alcan stage): This singer's list of sidemen include the cream of the crop of Brazilian musicians from Canada, the US and São Paulo. A dose of traditional MPB.
Plaster (10 pm, Bell stage): The original purveyors of local wall-shaking live electro. These guys embodied lots of what I loved about the Montreal scene circa 2004-05, and they're back!
July 1 - the night of too many decisions
Chris Tarry Group (6 pm, TD stage): The ex-Metalwood bassist has been settled in NYC for many years now, cranking out phenomenal original music and short stories. Tarry's sound on electric bass has been one of my favourites for years.
Robi Botos (8 pm, CBC stage): I grew up marvelling at Robi's talent in Toronto, watching him give master classes at The Rex with every solo. Without question one of Canada's best pianists. He's in the running for the Prize as well.
Los Gaiteros de San Jacinto (8 pm, Bell stage): the premier traditional cumbia group, in existence since 1940! An opportunity to not be missed. It'll provide context for...
Boogat (10 pm, Bell stage): Montreal MC turned ambassador for electro-Latin music. He's prepping a new record, and I'm sure all the dancefloor hits will be in his set too. ¡Dios mio, que viva Montreal!
Kneebody (10 pm, CBC stage): I've been a fan of this bi-coastal quintet since their first album on Greenleaf. Their electric, modern jazz packs a wallop, with a killer frontline of multi-reedist Ben Wendel and trumpeter Shane Endsley.
Heavy Soundz (midnight, Savoy, til July 3): alongside Boogat, the leading voice of Latin hip-hop in town. They take up three late-nights of residency at the Savoy.
July 2
Roma Carnivale vs Fanfare Severni (5 pm, place des Festivals): two local Balkan-influenced brass bands march across the place des Festivals for some heatstroke-inducing early partying. My money's on Roma.
Rachel Therrien Quintet (6 pm, TD stage): Like me, Rachel nurtures two great passions: Latin music and contemporary jazz. Fresh off the Banff Centre's jazz workshop, her sound has grown immensely and I can't wait to hear her showcase for the Prize.
Jazz Amnesty Sound System (midnight, L'Astral, til July 4): Selectors Andy Williams (of the Goods) and Luv dig into their impossibly deep jazz crates for a vinyl-only dancefloor section. I've been honoured to guest on a couple of their nights at the Waverly and I always get schooled by their records.
July 3
Sidi Touré (8 pm, Rio Tinto Alcan stage): This Malian singer and guitarist is firmly in line with many of his great countrymen, with a disarming voice and potent fingerwork.
Escort (9:30 pm, TD stage): a live disco big band direct from Brooklyn, featuring members of Darcy James Argue's Secret Society among others, for the mid-festival blowout? Yes, please.
July 4
Karl Jannuska (6 pm, TD stage): A bit of a mythical figure on the Montreal scene, this McGill alumnus moved to Paris before I arrived. Everyone still talks about his drumming and his compositions, for good reason. Featuring vocalist Sienna Dahlen, Jannuska's music is moving and somewhat haunting.
Ernesto Cervini Quartet (8 pm, CBC stage): I'm not really sure how you can be nominated for the TD "Rising Star" prize when you've released a few records on Anzic and your tenor saxophonist is Joel Frahm. Ernesto is a fantastic drummer (and an equally capable pianist and clarinetist) whose compositional voice is constantly growing.
Besh O Drom (8 & 10 pm, Rio Tinto Alcan stage): a group that was at the forefront of the Balkan Beats movement, this band direct from Hungary will show us how it's done.
The Narcicyst (10 pm, Bell stage): MC, author, professor, social critic and fashionista will grace the Jazz Fest stage with an all new show before he leaves our belle ville. Allahdamercy!
July 5
Chet Doxas Quartet (10 pm, CBC stage): The brothers Doxas (Jim's a drummer) are fixtures on the local scene, and the catalysts for some of jazz's biggest names to come to town. Chet will be playing music from his last album, Big Sky, featuring guitarist and Triplettes de Belleville composer Ben Charest.
Coyote Bill (10 pm, Bell stage): horn-heavy funky goodness featuring composer/producer/saxophonist extraordinaire Charles Papasoff, and members of Papagroove.
Kalmunity Vibe Collective (midnight, Savoy, til July 7): full disclosure - I'm playing on this one. Kalmunity has provided nine years of improvised grooves and social commentary in the city, and has been the incubator for some of the city's most promising talent over the past decade. With our three nights at the Savoy, we're indulging three different facets of our collective personality. July 5 is my baby, exploring the roots of all this music at Congo Square, and seeing how and where it grew from there. For those of you who attended our Mardi Gras party, expect some greasy NOLA funk through the Kalmunity kaleidoscope. The following nights are spotlighting J Dilla (July 6) and "the present moment" (July 7).
Canicule Tropicale (midnight, L'Astral, til July 7): My boys Philippe Noël and Kobal are back once again, with an all-tropical, all-vinyl marathon of dancefloor rockin' goodness.
July 6
Samuel Blais Quartet (8 pm, CBC stage): another young saxophonist whose enterprising NYC connections have led to an influx of fantastic shows in this city. He's showcasing his homegrown quartet, one of his many simultaneous projects.
Orgone (TD stage, 9 & 11 pm): I still harbour a love for the "jamband" scene - a remnant from my high school and early university days. These guys are carrying the torch of that community quite well, with an improvisational sense to their funk.
Frank Lozano Montreal Quartet (10 pm, CBC stage): Frank was a teacher of mine at McGill and a big inspiration, with a language that spans all periods and improvisational abilities.
July 7
Chicha Libre (8 pm, Bell stage): Led by Olivier Conan, the co-founder of Brooklyn's renowned club Barbès, this group has led the way for the rediscovery of Peruvian chicha music. They've put out a couple of brilliant records.
Blackmahal (10 pm, Bell stage): Bill Smith of Eye For Talent agency described them to me as "Bollywood hip-hop." An intriguing enough endorsement to warrant closing out the festival with this group.
June 28
Ivan Garzón Quartet (8 pm, CBC stage): I play with Ivan in Denis Chang's manouche quartet, where he plays rhythm guitar. He's also a fantastic post-bop electric player, and is in the running for the TD Grand Prix.
Marie-Christine (8 pm, Rio Tinto Alcan stage): One of the great rising soul and R&B singers in town, she's a commanding stage presence to match her voice.
June 29
Mike Essoudry's Mash Potato Mashers (4 & 6 pm, Heineken Lounge): Mike and I crossed paths at McGill. The Ottawa drummer's revisionist brass band is part of the daily afternoon brass-heavy madness throughout the festival.
Peripheral Vision (6 pm, TD stage): My buddies from Toronto, guitarist Don Scott and bassist Michael Herring, co-lead this quartet featuring their forward-thinking tunes. They're also nominated for the Prize.
Curumin (10 pm, Bell stage): If you missed his show three years ago on the same stage, prepare to be converted to this dubby, hip-hop-inflected Brazilian pop music. Curumin is undoubtedly the reason why my heart and my ears gravitate to São Paulo's music scene.
June 30
Alexandre Côté Quintet (6 pm, TD stage): Alex is an un(der)sung hero of the Montreal scene, as a saxophonist and as a composer. I'm privileged to play alongside him in Gary Schwartz's LETTINGO, and his writing always opens my eyes to new possibilities.
Maria Farinha Band (8 & 10 pm, Rio Tinto Alcan stage): This singer's list of sidemen include the cream of the crop of Brazilian musicians from Canada, the US and São Paulo. A dose of traditional MPB.
Plaster (10 pm, Bell stage): The original purveyors of local wall-shaking live electro. These guys embodied lots of what I loved about the Montreal scene circa 2004-05, and they're back!
July 1 - the night of too many decisions
Chris Tarry Group (6 pm, TD stage): The ex-Metalwood bassist has been settled in NYC for many years now, cranking out phenomenal original music and short stories. Tarry's sound on electric bass has been one of my favourites for years.
Robi Botos (8 pm, CBC stage): I grew up marvelling at Robi's talent in Toronto, watching him give master classes at The Rex with every solo. Without question one of Canada's best pianists. He's in the running for the Prize as well.
Los Gaiteros de San Jacinto (8 pm, Bell stage): the premier traditional cumbia group, in existence since 1940! An opportunity to not be missed. It'll provide context for...
Boogat (10 pm, Bell stage): Montreal MC turned ambassador for electro-Latin music. He's prepping a new record, and I'm sure all the dancefloor hits will be in his set too. ¡Dios mio, que viva Montreal!
Kneebody (10 pm, CBC stage): I've been a fan of this bi-coastal quintet since their first album on Greenleaf. Their electric, modern jazz packs a wallop, with a killer frontline of multi-reedist Ben Wendel and trumpeter Shane Endsley.
Heavy Soundz (midnight, Savoy, til July 3): alongside Boogat, the leading voice of Latin hip-hop in town. They take up three late-nights of residency at the Savoy.
July 2
Roma Carnivale vs Fanfare Severni (5 pm, place des Festivals): two local Balkan-influenced brass bands march across the place des Festivals for some heatstroke-inducing early partying. My money's on Roma.
Rachel Therrien Quintet (6 pm, TD stage): Like me, Rachel nurtures two great passions: Latin music and contemporary jazz. Fresh off the Banff Centre's jazz workshop, her sound has grown immensely and I can't wait to hear her showcase for the Prize.
Jazz Amnesty Sound System (midnight, L'Astral, til July 4): Selectors Andy Williams (of the Goods) and Luv dig into their impossibly deep jazz crates for a vinyl-only dancefloor section. I've been honoured to guest on a couple of their nights at the Waverly and I always get schooled by their records.
July 3
Sidi Touré (8 pm, Rio Tinto Alcan stage): This Malian singer and guitarist is firmly in line with many of his great countrymen, with a disarming voice and potent fingerwork.
Escort (9:30 pm, TD stage): a live disco big band direct from Brooklyn, featuring members of Darcy James Argue's Secret Society among others, for the mid-festival blowout? Yes, please.
July 4
Karl Jannuska (6 pm, TD stage): A bit of a mythical figure on the Montreal scene, this McGill alumnus moved to Paris before I arrived. Everyone still talks about his drumming and his compositions, for good reason. Featuring vocalist Sienna Dahlen, Jannuska's music is moving and somewhat haunting.
Ernesto Cervini Quartet (8 pm, CBC stage): I'm not really sure how you can be nominated for the TD "Rising Star" prize when you've released a few records on Anzic and your tenor saxophonist is Joel Frahm. Ernesto is a fantastic drummer (and an equally capable pianist and clarinetist) whose compositional voice is constantly growing.
Besh O Drom (8 & 10 pm, Rio Tinto Alcan stage): a group that was at the forefront of the Balkan Beats movement, this band direct from Hungary will show us how it's done.
The Narcicyst (10 pm, Bell stage): MC, author, professor, social critic and fashionista will grace the Jazz Fest stage with an all new show before he leaves our belle ville. Allahdamercy!
July 5
Chet Doxas Quartet (10 pm, CBC stage): The brothers Doxas (Jim's a drummer) are fixtures on the local scene, and the catalysts for some of jazz's biggest names to come to town. Chet will be playing music from his last album, Big Sky, featuring guitarist and Triplettes de Belleville composer Ben Charest.
Coyote Bill (10 pm, Bell stage): horn-heavy funky goodness featuring composer/producer/saxophonist extraordinaire Charles Papasoff, and members of Papagroove.
Kalmunity Vibe Collective (midnight, Savoy, til July 7): full disclosure - I'm playing on this one. Kalmunity has provided nine years of improvised grooves and social commentary in the city, and has been the incubator for some of the city's most promising talent over the past decade. With our three nights at the Savoy, we're indulging three different facets of our collective personality. July 5 is my baby, exploring the roots of all this music at Congo Square, and seeing how and where it grew from there. For those of you who attended our Mardi Gras party, expect some greasy NOLA funk through the Kalmunity kaleidoscope. The following nights are spotlighting J Dilla (July 6) and "the present moment" (July 7).
Canicule Tropicale (midnight, L'Astral, til July 7): My boys Philippe Noël and Kobal are back once again, with an all-tropical, all-vinyl marathon of dancefloor rockin' goodness.
July 6
Samuel Blais Quartet (8 pm, CBC stage): another young saxophonist whose enterprising NYC connections have led to an influx of fantastic shows in this city. He's showcasing his homegrown quartet, one of his many simultaneous projects.
Orgone (TD stage, 9 & 11 pm): I still harbour a love for the "jamband" scene - a remnant from my high school and early university days. These guys are carrying the torch of that community quite well, with an improvisational sense to their funk.
Frank Lozano Montreal Quartet (10 pm, CBC stage): Frank was a teacher of mine at McGill and a big inspiration, with a language that spans all periods and improvisational abilities.
July 7
Chicha Libre (8 pm, Bell stage): Led by Olivier Conan, the co-founder of Brooklyn's renowned club Barbès, this group has led the way for the rediscovery of Peruvian chicha music. They've put out a couple of brilliant records.
Blackmahal (10 pm, Bell stage): Bill Smith of Eye For Talent agency described them to me as "Bollywood hip-hop." An intriguing enough endorsement to warrant closing out the festival with this group.
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