Friday, 23 July 2010

State of the Heart: Manchester Jazz Festival 2010

A travesty of this article, headed (I cringe as I type) 'All That Jazz', appeared in City Life, Manchester Evening News, 23.7.10. This is the unexpurgated text, and a more accurate representation of the author's views.


Every good festival has its own identity. So it is with Manchester Jazz Festival. The 15th MJF, like the first, back in 1996, is strong on individuality. The policy of the MJF promoters (Steve Mead and Mick Waterfield) is inclusive enough to embrace Zimbabwean songster Papa Miles (St Ann's Square, Sunday 25, 1pm) and Goldfrapp-wannabe Rodina (Festival Pavilion, Tuesday 27, 8pm). Traditionalists and mainstreamers might grumble, but the Festival reinstates the definition of jazz as "the sound of surprise".  

As ever, the programme mixes homegrown talents with players of national and international renown. Local tortoises often compare favourably with celebrity hares.










Jim Hart: Chetham's Class of '96

Of course, the distinction between tortoise and hare is sometimes subtle. Gwilym Simcock - playing with UK/US supergroup Simcock/Walker/Swallow/Nussbaum (RNCM, Tuesday 27, 7.30pm) - and Jim Hart, playing with NY trumpeter Ralph Alessi (Festival Pavilion, Friday 23, 7.30pm), met and started playing together when both were students at Chetham's School of Music (circa '94-'96). 

"I love Manchester. It's one of my favourite places," says Hart, a vibes-player of blinding momentum. "I always said I would go back, if things didn't work out in London, but I seem to have got stuck." 
  
And Arun Ghosh's appearance, co-starring with the Asaf Sirkis Trio (BOTW, Thursday 29, 9pm), is virtually a homecoming for the charismatic clarinet-player. Ghosh, "conceived in Calcutta and bred in Bolton", is currently making waves in London with his unique brand of Mancunian Indo-jazz. 

"It needed to be done," says Ghosh, of his move to London, "to get a fresh outlook. But I learned everything I needed to learn while I was in Manchester." He identifies a specific Manchester aesthetic: "The main thing is that sense of wanting the music to be accessible. If you're going to go on-stage and play, you have to believe in what you're doing, and say it with conviction." 

Arun's fervour is communicated not only through his clarinet, which is stately and joyous, but through his body language (sashay and sway as much as swagger). Ghosh has been known to transport a rowdy crowd at Matt and Phred's to an altogether loftier place. His attack is gentle yet rigorous, and his simple tunes - often revolving around an Indian-style twelve-beat cycle - grow in detail, complexity and intensity until even the most inattentive onlooker is compelled to listen. "Yeah I think Man United had played that night," says Ghosh, reminded of the occasion. "I feel we can win people over, if I have the right people with me, because we believe in what we're doing."  

The right people for the MJF gig are Manchester rhythm team Myke Wilson and Sylvan Richardson, Corey Mwamba - a whirlwind on vibraphone - from Derby, and London saxophonist Idris Rahman ("you hear Ornette Coleman and Don Cherry weave lines in and out of each other, and that's something we're doing a lot," says Ghosh). More than an ex-pat, Arun Ghosh is an ambassador for Manchester. 

His erstwhile sparring partner, saxophonist Nat Birchall, shares half the bill (BOTW, Friday 23, 8.30pm) with Marshall Allen, a mainstay of the Sun Ra Arkestra. "I'm honoured to be playing the same night as Marshall Allen," says Birchall. "He's one of my all-time favourite players." 


Birchall is one jazz musician who stayed. "I don't have much experience of jazz anywhere other than Manchester," he admits. His music draws on the gentle side of John Coltrane for inspiration. The new album, Guiding Spirit, is rapturously lyrical, and too beautiful not to be spiritual, with an urgency that keeps it from being merely pretty. 

The realities of the jazz life haven't altogether dispelled Birchall's sense of high purpose. "Once you're determined to follow a certain route, you're got to make the best of it. Sometimes you're lucky to be with like-minded players. Other times you're working in adverse conditions, but you carry on and do it anyway. I always try to put everything into it, and play with soul and feeling." 

Not as overt as the Coltrane influence, Birchall's first love is ska/reggae. Armed with this knowledge, Guiding Spirit takes on an entirely new light. Pioneering JA hornmen Tommy McCook and Cedric Brooks had a direct, uncluttered eloquence that feeds directly into Birchall's style. Similarly, the harmonically simple themes and hypnotic basslines are retentions from a golden age of Jamaican music. It seems that the secret of finding one's own voice is to wait, however long, for your influences to crystallise. In Birchall, the formative passions of the youthful reggae fan are mysteriously reconfigured in the mature musician. "A saxophone player's sound is largely determined by the sound we have in our heads," he says. "I'm getting to the stage where I can say the music is 'pure', in the sense that it manifests itself through me, without my conscious mind affecting the outcome." 

Other prophets without honour include Neil Yates, whose Surroundings (St Ann's Church, Saturday 31, 7pm), a commission from MJF, is a piece for full orchestra with a starring role for St Ann's Church itself. With the instruments scattered around for antiphonal effect, the building, with its unique acoustic and sacred ambience, is the star turn of Surroundings. 













Zoe Chiotis: A slinky siren... 

Pianist John Ellis is versatile enough to handle any musical situation - here he's accompanying Zimbabwean Papa Miles - but he is also a composer, a producer (the owner of Limefield Studio) and a charter member of the Odbod Collective, a top-notch group of Manchester creatives. Other Odbods include Zoe Chiotis, a slinky siren with spellbinding ways (St Ann's Square, Saturday 31, 5pm), and her stylistic opposite: the extraordinary Rioghnach Connolly, whose voice is so soulful that it seems older than her physical age by about three hundred years. The splendour of Riognach Connolly, a transplant to Manchester from her native Ireland, can only be hinted at here, so do see her with her band, Honeyfeet (Matt and Phred's, Friday 23, 10pm) or in a new group with Stuart McCallum (Matt and Phred's, Tuesday 27, 10pm). 



Guitarist McCallum, by the way, has blazed a quietly innovative trail with his loops, samples and pedals, and is so inherently Mancunian that London jazz critic John Fordham once mistook him for a Big Issue seller. He can also be seen with improvising trio Baylis/Howard/McCallum (Festival Pavilion, Friday 30, 12.30pm) and, later the same day, in a solo set alongside The Golden Age of Steam and trioVD (Festival Pavilion, 8pm). McCallum, a true homegrown guitar hero, might be the hardest working man in Manchester show-business. 


Tuesday, 13 July 2010

Orchestre Tout Puissant Marcel Duchamp, The Spaceheads

Carlton Club, Manchester, Monday 12 July 


The sound of Spaceheads occupies the margins between trance dance, free jazz and psychedelia. It comprises of Andy Diagram's blissed-out trumpet - electronically enhanced by loops, echoes, octave doubling and fractal patterning - and Dick Harrison's drums, locating rhythm and pulse with every crash and bang, and serving as the perfect launchpad for Diagram's kosmic klaxon. 

They've been away for too long, doing things that come to all of us in time - raising families, planting trees, reforming James etc. So there was a preponderance of old tunes in the set, and a welcome chance to revisit dislocated dancefloor faces like Trance Figure 8. 

Improvising comes as second nature to Spaceheads, and the search for fresh discoveries began in earnest when the duo were joined by Orchestre Marcel Duchamp's Vincent Berthelet on bass. Making fresh discoveries and striking vital grooves are not mutually exclusive activities for Spaceheads. It comes as a shock to realise that Diagram's tabletop of wires and wonder, so state-of-the-art twenty years ago, now seems actually primitive. Older spectators may feel nostalgic for a time when rave culture could embrace two men armed with technology, brio and imagination, intent on replicating the impact of Bitches Brew with just trumpet and drums. Their light show, meanwhile, was quaintly redolent of Pink Floyd at Middle Earth, circa 1967.

The sensibility of headliners Orchestre Tout Puissant Marcel Duchamp is post-punk, and the instrumentation is appropriately bizarre - trombone, marimba, fiddle, guitar, drums and double-bass. Their surreal affiliations are not only signposted by the name but by a resolute rejection of all musical and social convention. Singer and violinist Liz Moscarola is the model of charming, aggressive femininity, alternately little-girl-lost and barking. She proclaims emotional vulnerability in evocative yet oblique stanzas. I didn't understand a word ("the house is coming"?) yet was profoundly moved. The rhythm team of Anne Cardinaud and Wilf Plum generated a clattering yet well-calibrated groove. Big-toned trombonist Seth Bennett is one of the loudest brass men in the business: conversely, the light-toned guitarist Mael Saletes is one of the quietest grunge guitarists in the business.   

Orchestre Tout Puissant Marcel Duchamp are surreal in the true sense: more than art, it's a way of life; of living on the edge of your senses. The players perform with a conviction that, in other circumstances, would be dedicated to fringe religion. And their music defines the epithet so beloved of Patti Smith: 'beauty will be convulsive or not at all." Very romantic. Very subversive. Very Gallic.


Sunday, 6 June 2010

James Apollo, Kreg Viesselman


Contact Theatre, Manchester, Saturday June 5 

Here's a proposition: two New Dylans on one double-bill. Well, New Dylans in so much as both James Apollo and Kreg Viesselman hail from Minnesota, and both got out of there as soon as possible. "It's only leaving that makes a home at all," sang Apollo at one point, in one of a few allusions to his itinerant lifestyle. Kreg Viesselman, meanwhile, has made his home in Oslo, Norway, whose special micro-climate seems to suit his introspective temperament. 

Indeed, Viesselman was a revelation.  Firmly in the US songwriter idiom, he brings to it an intensity of feeling and an expressive voice that is all his own. To see Viesselman perform is to partake in a soul-deep session of primal therapy. On a song like The Well ("how deep the hole I pushed my brother in / He lost his grasp and gave a gasp") he more or less defines the sick soul, exposing an acute sense of sin and an unvarnished fear of the universe. Although the feeling is directed inward, that extraordinary gravelly voice communicates to an audience, who respond with a mix of awe and self-recognition. The shamanistic element came out most forcefully on Half Baked News, a number where Hobopop Collective's Kirsty McGee and Mat Martin guested on vocals (it was a Hobopop promotion). This was spirit music indeed, and came from deep within.



In contrast to the introspective Viesselman, James Apollo is strong on chutzpah. His smouldering stage presence and charisma are legendary, and here he was joined by a Stateside band of bassist, accordion-player and percussionist. Their instrumental skills were ordinary and their backing vocals were, to put it kindly, undistinguished. The surprise entrance of the latter pair - from the side aisles at the climax of Apollo's second number - was an ineptly-managed piece of business. They were endearingly bad, in short, and displayed more courage and pluck than many slicker musicians.

Apollo, whose gaze became more anxious during the course of the evening, sang a song called I've Got It Easy with calculated irony, and a song called Happiness with relentless joylessness. He raised the quality by including Moman and Penn's Dark End of the Street (uncredited) in the set, before reverting to his own material, which alternated between narcissistic self-regard and romantic claptrap. There is something heroic in such naked self-belief, and Apollo may be in danger of turning into the larger-than-life figure he likes to project. It worked for Dylan, after all.  

Tuesday, 1 June 2010

The Beatles, David Bowie and Other Great False Starts

A debut album is often an unattainable career peak, for the reason identified by singer-songwriter Paul Curreri in an interview he once gave me: "I had 26 years to write the first record and only six months to write the second". This holds especially true for singer-songwriters: think of the eponymous offerings by John Prine, Loudon Wainwright, Kate & Anna McGarrigle, Jackson Browne etc. But Bob Dylan's first was his most dispensable offering until Empire Burlesque came along thirty-one years later. There have been other dud debuts. Here are a few examples of talent squandered or misused. These are the Ten Greatest False Starts in Music History.  




1. David Bowie - 'David Bowie' (1967)
Before Iggy Pop, there was Anthony Newley. Well, not even Anthony Newley: Michael Crawford seems to be the dominant creative influence, with the cheeky chappie remark at the fade of 'Love Me Til Tuesday'. "Might make it to Wednesday," eh? 'The Laughing Gnome' is more embarrassing, but not by much. On the whole, very revealing about the Brit B-movie source of Bowie's theatricality.   



2. Townes Van Zandt - For The Sake of The Song (1968)
Hamstrung by misconceived arrangements and the song Talkin' Karate Blues, which this writer took for evidence of failing powers when Townes revived it for his 1987 UK tour. Immortal songs like Tecumsah Valley and Waitin' Around To Die had to wait awhile for their definitive versions. 



3. Tom Waits - Closing Time (1973)
Not irredeemable, but the sentimental barfly schtick hasn't worn as well as the malformed polka and voodoo schtick.    



4. Jimmy Webb  - Jim Webb Sings Jim Webb (1968)
Produced, according to Webb, "by a bunch of ruffians from some old demos of mine and tarted up to sound like MacArthur Park. It was quite a piece of crap and received with… crushing disappointment." 



5. Duffy Power - Leapers and Sleepers (2002) 
A double CD set of Duffy Power sides from 1962-1967. Larry Parnes exerts a deadening influence until at least halfway through disc two, when Little Boy Blue and Mary Open The Door reveal true greatness.   



6. Man - Revelation (1969)
Pretentious proto-prog that traces the history of Man(kind), complete with a prolonged and quite off-putting orgasm and Grieg (is it?) quotations. This, from the group that made Merthyr Tydfil ring to the sound of 'Spunk Rock'.   



7. The Humblebums - First Collection of Merry Melodies (1969)
As a folk singer, Billy Connolly makes a great comedian. 



8. Aretha Franklin - Soul Sister (1966)
The textbook case of a hidebound major label misusing and abusing notable talent.  The LP includes the Queen of Soul's interpretations of 'Ol' Man River' and 'Swanee'. 



9. Acoustic Ladyland - The Jazz on 3 Session
From 2003, when Acoustic Ladyland were a Jimi Hendrix tribute band and unplugged. 



10. The Beatles - The Sheik of Araby, Like Dreamers Do, Three Cool Cats…  
The failed Decca audition, 1st January, 1962. The false start to end all false starts. 

Tuesday, 11 May 2010

Rokia Traore, Sweet Billy Pilgrim

Bridgewater Hall, Manchester, Wednesday 5 May 2010 

The tall, handsome African man was speaking into his mobile phone as he left Bridgewater Hall. "I've just been to see Rokia Traore," he said. "She's the new Bob Marley." 


The statement wasn't fanciful. From the incantatory, Dianfra on, Traore held the audience spellbound. She has an extraordinary presence: a beautiful woman made grave by the weight of memory. Her persona is quintessentially Mali yet her internationalist outlook is reflected in the band. A French trio - guitarist Seb Martel, bassist Christophe 'Disco' Minck and drummer Vincent Taeger - capably blend rock and desert blues. 

The Mali contingent - Sibiri Kone on n'goni and backing singer Dianke Termessant - joined for the second song, Aimer. A Miriam Makeba song, Quit It, is scornful and sensual. Now the tempo and energy-levels are intensified. The stage was invaded by a frenzied dancer, but Rokia, without missing a whoop, matched him step for step. Bob Marley, yes, and Makeba too, but Traore most reminds of PJ Harvey, albeit with ancestor worship instead of big sex. 

A tumultuous encore lasted a third as long as the show, combining Fela Kuti's African Lady with a medley of originals. As Traore's ululations approached a new, inscrutable variety of scat-singing, it seemed as if her energy was inexhaustible. When she temporarily left the stage and Martel essayed some trippy guitar licks, it occurred that the Sahara is not only the home of the blues but the home of funk, and that Jimi Hendrix was the ultimate African avatar. Yes, it was that good. The music followed the pattern of an African wake, beginning with sorrow and moving up to exaltation. Life's energies were rousingly, triumphantly, affirmed.  

It was touching and very brave of Sweet Billy Pilgrim to attempt a mood of sustained, precious melancholia in the opening slot.

Saturday, 3 April 2010

The Dyverse Idea: The Seven Ages of Dyverse


This blog celebrates music of all kinds, and finds the right stuff everywhere. Hence, Dyverse Music. But is it possible to like so much different music, and appreciate them all equally, like PG Wodehouse's male codfish, 'which suddenly finding itself a parent of three million five hundred thousand little codfish, resolves to love them all'?[1] Yes, because all music is a manifestation of the human spirit, and the emotions music expresses - joy, love, infatuation, angst, serenity - are universal.
Although it might truly be said that different emotions dominate at different times of life, just as music means different things at different times in life. Consider Seven Ages of Dyverse, to correlate with the seven ages of man.
Rock 'n' roll, or rock, is the first age, the first music to speak directly to adolescent hopes and fears and longings. Rock uses excess and melodrama to protect a fragile sense of identity, and works best when it rages with angst and petulance. My teen years coincided with that cheerfully shabby and optimistic decade, the seventies, and neatly straddled prog-rock and punk. The seventies were absolutely the best decade for music after the sixties.
The Second Age is folk. That is, roots music from one's native soil, which also dovetails with rock if, like me, you were touched by the folk-rock movement. The Third Age, with strong connections to the Second Age, is USA music. This covers blues - no great leap from rock, thanks to Robert Johnson - and soul and country music, which are inextricably linked culturally and emotionally, and are both similarly earthy and direct. Both have a central place for the broken heart.
The Fourth Age is jazz. The Fourth Ager is curious about the formal aspects, the nuts and bolts of music, and naturally turns to jazz, the chosen medium of the finest composers and performers of the last and present centuries. Which isn't to say that jazz isn't also rich in emotion and expression.
Africa and world music (incorporating reggae) constitute the Fifth Age. The love of USA soul encourages a move to trace the sound of blackness to source. The music of the Americas corresponds to the Sixth Age. NB AMERICA AND USA ARE NOT SYNONYMOUS TERMS! The variety and richness of the music of North (i.e. Mexico), Central and South America is phenomenal. Consider the contrasting charms of cumbia from Colombia, or tango from Argentina, or son from Cuba, or huapango from Mexico, or bossa nova from Brazil!
The Seventh Age is Classical. It would be too conventional and un-Dyverse to consider Classical as the pinnacle of human achievement in musical terms. No, Classical crept up stealthily, partly as a result of my radio listening habits: I discovered that no piece of Classical music is so bad that listening to The Archers is preferable. The string quartets of Beethoven hold more appeal than his symphonies, just as chamber jazz is more palatable than big band jazz (intimacy is definitely a Dyverse quality). The writer was still holding out against opera into his fifth decade, but then Puccini came along, and the last barrier came tumbling down.
In short, Dyverse Music celebrates the inexhaustibility of good music. The blog is home to The Dyverse Record Collection, a companion to great albums, with particular attention to forgotten and overlooked classics omitted from every other survey. TDRC stands in opposition to those canonical lists headed with predictability by Sgt Pepper, What's Going On and Pet Sounds (great albums that they are). Other strands include Dyrections, alternative music lists; 'I Was There', which gathers eyewitness accounts of significant concerts from the past, and 'I Am Here', covering reviews of present-day gigs. There are interviews from the archives (from the writer's time as a full-time music journalist), and essays (Dyverse Dyatribes), and Dyverse Values, an authoritative guide to vinyl prices, gleaned by first-hand research into what the same albums can fetch on eBay. And every month a selected artist is singled out for rigorous scrutiny in Obsessions With… The Hero Worship section is devoted to friends, comrades and inspirations (sometimes all three at once) Abner Burnett, Peter Bocking and Bill Leader. Welcome to Dyverse Music. May it bring you joy.
[1] PG Wodehouse, The Custody of the Pumpkin, Blandings Castle and Elsewhere.






Jerry Dammers' Spatial AKA Orchestra

Bridgewater Hall, Manchester, Tuesday 30 March 

The stage looks like the set of Blade-Runner Meets The Mummy. The lights atop the keyboards change colour, presumably to signal to passing aliens, as in Close Encounters. Electronic noises reverberate and a man in a sun mask intones, "It's after the end of the world…" It made a very arresting opening for Spatial AKA Orchestra, Jerry Dammers'  Sun Ra tribute band, even if the acoustics came from planet Saturn. 

What do the Specials mainman and space-age visionary have in common? For Sun Ra, showmanship and science fiction sweetened his inherent radicalism. Similarly, Dammers is out there, yet entertaining. His crack team of UK jazz musicians, dressed in masks and costumes, proceed to raise consciousness with a big, bouncy ska version of Gnossiene by Eric Satie. 

Even so, Tubular Bells comes as a surprise (The Exorcist associations suit the sf/horror ambience, I suppose). Roger Beaujolais carries the theme on vibes and Zoe Rahman contributes a piano solo at warp-speed. The Batman Theme is grafted onto I'm Gonna Unmask the Batman (fabulous baritone solo by Terry Edwards), whilst Man at C&A and Nuclear War, linked by subject-matter, are fused, fission-style. Exotica rears its head during Jungle Madness, with Francine Luce impersonating jungle beasts with avant-garde singing techniques.  

Ghost Town becomes Ghost Planet. The recession is cosmic: now the entire planet is redundant! A rap about the African origin of UFOs nicely combines Sun Ra's twin obsessions. Far from being Dammers' folly, Spatial AKA is probably the summation of the Two-Tone aesthetic. ("It's bad enough with another race…" - John Cooper Clarke.) 

During Space Is The Place, the musicians parade off-stage and reconvene in the auditorium, still honking and chanting. Magic! The evening compared favourably to Sun Ra's  visitation to Hackney Empire in 1990. 


The Complete Chris Ackroyd vs Vladimir Putin 1-61

Chris Ackroyd, who manages to lead a fulfilled life without a computer, asked if I could send a message to the world. Well, I sometimes have...