James Finn, Dominic Duval, Warren Smith...

Here's a review of an interesting disc by a relatively new voice. Old time free-jazz, but played with plenty of conviction, and a good excuse to try out an extended bullfighting metaphor...


JAMES FINN TRIO
Plaza De Toros
CLEAN FEED (CF034CD)

Toreo de Capa; Plaza de Toros; The Phantom Bull of Seville; El Tercio de Varas; Eyes of Angelina; El Tercio de Vanderillas; El Tercio de Muleta; La Estocada; Toro Bravo

James Finn (ts); Dominic Duval (b); Warren Smith (d), (12/03).

The parallels between bull fighting and free jazz are not inconsiderable. Both involve the playing out of a passionate drama, both demand high levels of concentration by the protagonists to avoid unecessary risks, both divide the public, and both can be painful spectator sports. Tenor saxophonist James Finn is a relative newcomer and has escaped my radar until now. A release apiece on both CIMP and Cadence is about all you’ll find of him on disc find at the moment, but Finn seems to be anything but a green gilled newcomer.

Plaza de Toros is his conceptual portrait of the various stages and rituals of Spanish bullfighting. Joined by regular associates Domininc Duval and Warren Smith, the trio are well equipped to negotiate the troughs and peaks of this imaginary spectacle. Finn has a huge tone that has the gruff burred edges of Rollins. His style is far more direct and emotionally immediate however, somewhere between late Coltrane and early Frank Wright. The music is certainly loose, but never out of control. Finn, like an experienced Matador, knows just when to make his move to deliver the coup de grace. At times the trio appear to be shadowing the beast, waiting for the crucial moment to attack with one collective adrenaline surge. The opening ‘Toreo de Capa’ represents the first encounter by the Matador with the bull, the trio setting the scene as if sizing up the task ahead. Duval plays a guitar-like chord formation that recalls Jimmy Garrison, whilst Smith provides sudden flutters of movement. We then go through all of the various stages of the ritual, climaxing in the collective elation of “el Tercio de Vanderillas” - the ultimate confrontation.

By the time we get to “Toro Bravo”, the moment where the courage of both man and beast are applauded by the crowd, we’re left slightly bruised, pondering the drama of a sport without a true winner. Even without the overarching concept this would stand up as quality neo free-jazz, a victory for all three of the strong personalities involved. I often suspect that a lot of fakers are currently playing in this increasingly popular idiom. Happily, Finn doesn’t seem to be one of them. Recommended.

Fred Grand
(Jazz Review, July 2005)

Tagged for your convenience...

After a marathon session of site maintenance, all of my posts now boast new tags making it easier for visitors to navigate their way around the blog.

Satisfying an autistic craving and possibly inspired by the recent flourish of creative activity at Apple Inc., I hope that the new system will encourage readers to go back to earlier posts.

As always, comments are welcomed!!

Till Brönner...

Been busy for the last 10 days with new reviews - rather a lot of them - for Jazz Journal. No longer Jazz Journal International, strap line "The World's Greatest Jazz Magazine - 62nd year of Publication", the June issue of the magazine nevertheless looks good and shows real promise. Some of the changes to layout made by the editor (and a lot more subtle little tweaks to come) make me confident that within 6 months or so it'll have been dragged into this century without losing any of its integrity and all the stronger for it.

Time to continue mining the Jazz Review archives now, this time with a review of a disc by Till Brönner. I'm no great fan, but he's far from repugnant. As one of the editor's wild card picks in the last batch was his latest disc "Rio", it seems like a good time to post this. There was a lot of other good stuff in the envelope - Bobo Stenson & Plunge, Jon Hassell, Marc Sinan/Julia Hülsmann, Air, Roberto Fonseca, Phillip Johnsotn and Seb Pipe if you must know - and all will be published here in due course and after a respectful interval.

More regular updates to follow, along with improved indexing/tagging of the blog too, I hope...


TILL BRÖNNER
Oceana
Verve Records (06025 1708231)

Bumpin’; This Guy’s In Love With You; Love Theme From Chinatown; In My Secret Life; The Peacocks; I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry; Subrosa; Pra Ditzer Adeus; It Never Entered My Mind; River Man; Danny Boy; A Distant Episode; I’ll Never Fall In Love Again; Tarde.

Till Brönner (t/voc); Larry Goldings (p/ky); Gary Foster (as); Dean Parks (g); David Piltch (b); Jay Bellerose (d), Carla Bruni (voc on 4); Madeleine Peyroux (voc on 6); Luciana Souza (voc on 8).
No recording date.

German singer/trumpeter Till Brönner has been occupying the same jazz-pop hinterland as Madeleine Peyroux, Jamie Cullum and Diana Krall for over a decade now. Starting his musical life in thrall to be-bop, Brönner went on to play with Horst Jankowski’s Big Band before cutting a hard bop date that featured the great Ray Brown on bass. It was perhaps his discovery of Chet Baker in the late ‘90s that set him on the course that has led him to Oceana. Brönner now takes his music back to a more traditional jazz-based sound than previous ‘urban’ projects, tempos all falling at well below medium and decidedly ‘after dark’. A string of ‘star’ cameos from Peyroux, model Carla Bruni and Luciana Souza don’t interrupt the mood or flow of what is a masterfully produced ‘mood’ piece from Larry Klein.

Brönner’s trumpet, often harmon-muted, is warm and breathy, his lines displaying a great economy that betray some very well thought out phrasing. The melodic building blocks of each piece are simplicity its self. Take the hypnotic blues vamp that the opening instrumental ‘Bumpin’ is built on, for example. Brönner’s singing voice is rich and engaging, even if his enunciation of English is less than perfect, and the nearest he comes to dropping a clanger is the rather too saccharine and kitsch version of Bacharach’s ‘I’ll Never Fall In Love Again’, which gatecrashes the after hours feel by moving up-tempo.

A delicious reading of Nick Drake’s ‘River Man’ more than makes up for this lapse, and elsewhere Brönner carves some very satisfying instrumentals, the best being ‘Love Theme From Chinatown’ (with a liquid solo from Foster that Art Pepper would have been proud of), Jimmy Rowles’ ‘The Peacocks’, and the slightly country hued ‘A Distant Episode’. Larry Goldings is understated but ‘just so’ throughout, delivering a master class in musical method acting. I’m always prepared to be skeptical about pop masquerading as jazz, but Brönner thankfully has it the other way round, coming to the music on Oceana from very strong jazz roots. Perhaps not one for the absolute purist, but anybody who likes a rich production, and finds enough jazz in Cassandra Wilson’s Blue Notes to satisfy, should warmly receive this impressive disc.

Fred Grand

Robert Mitchell @ The Cluny…

After his starring role during the visit to Tyneside of US saxophonist Matana Roberts in April, it was with huge anticipation that I looked forward to the visit of Mitchell’s latest band ‘3io’ (sic). His impact had been massive that night – I was aware of his growing reputation but sort of typecast him after hearing his ‘Panacea’ project. I’d even failed to register him on Steve Coleman’s ‘Sonic Language of Myth’, but there was no disguising a major talent when I finally did manage to see him in person. In the challenging context of AACM alumni Roberts’ quartet he projected as a truly gifted improviser with a musical signature that extends all that I consider to be good in jazz. Echoes of Hancock and Tyner bordered swirling vortices of post Taylor abstraction. Throughout it all ran an architectural awareness of form that confirmed he was more than just a mirror of influences.

Whenever I go to The Cluny I remember the early days of no-fi, and think of the occasions I played free-jazz to bewildered alternative rock audiences with Mr Warthog. It has happy memories, and although under new management has managed to keep a lot of its original character. The evening started well. Sitting at a table with Louise, we were catching up with Paul Bream when Mitchell entered the room, walking to the table with his hand outstretched to say ‘Hi, I’m Robert…’. He then proceeded to tell us about his recent trip to Algeria and riff a bit about the gig with Matana, before retreating to the privacy of his dressing room to meditate. If awards were won for being a genuinely nice guy, Mitchell would garner bouquets every day of the week.

The ‘3io’ presented on this tour is actually an unplugged version of Panacea, sharing the same line-up of Mitchell, Mason and Spaven. Their musical reference points still included something decidedly ‘urban’, but even when tacking pieces associated with Massive Attack and Busta Rhymes there was a solid jazz undertow. Opening with a tribute to the late Bheki Mseleku (‘Cycles’), Mitchell patiently built a solo that encapsulated all of the promise I’d been feeling. If I was surprised by anything that followed it was more the restraint than the artistry.

Most of the pieces were taken from last year’s Gilles Peterson Worldwide award winning album ‘The Greater Good’, and now that I’ve had about a week to listen to the recording it’s fair to say that these were extended workouts. Mitchell’s trio would under normal circumstances be an equilateral triangle, but given the great talent of the pianist they inevitably fall into his giant shadow. Mason played stick bass, which sounded less than woody but still held his corner, whilst Spaven’s accents and brushwork were tasteful and apposite. Bill Evans via Hancock and early ‘70s Jarrett was my abiding impression, and if you have the talent and are prepared to bare your soul musically there are few more rewarding territories for a pianist in contemporary jazz. Mitchell has it, and the pieces floated past like cotton wool clouds.

Recounting his experiences in Algeria, playing with local musicians whilst under armed guard, it was clear that music is Mitchell’s passion. Each solo he played saw him dig deep to wring out as much as he could, rather like an athlete always trying to their Personal Best. It is that wholehearted commitment, allied to a fertile imagination, formidable technical facility and deep understanding of form that make him special.

Gilles Peterson’s gongs may not have the clout with traditionalists that, say, a Downbeat Critic's Poll might carry, but surely it’s only a matter of time before his reputation extends further. Sadly the turnout on the night wasn’t great, but that’s a sign of the times. Mitchell has all the ingredients and is at the very least every bit the musical equal of Robert Glasper, who offers a similar take on the present. Somehow Mitchell just needs to inveigle a wider public profile. In a country that celebrates mediocrity as talent, I wish him luck.

Fred Grand.

Jazz Review is morphing...

In case you haven't yet picked up the new edition of Jazz Journal International, you may not know that the long running magazine has recently merged with Jazz Review. In a crowded market place this makes sense, and given its outstanding longevity and worldwide reputation it also makes sense that JJI should be the dominant partner in the merger.

I hope that something of Jazz Review's probing outlook is retained, and am confident that editor Mark Gilbert is the man to ensure that it does. JJI has a reputation as a mainstream bastion with very few concessions to post bop music, but Mark has consistently championed the contemporary scene and he should be able to provide the right balance.

I cancelled my subscription to JJI in the late '80s with a letter of exasperation pointing to the lack of contemporary coverage, but I can't underestimate the influence the magazine had on me as I found my way around this sometimes daunting and formidable body of historical and living music. I still respect its role in opening my ears to a lot of great artists and recordings, and its scholarly and reverential approach to this great music has never been in doubt.

So, irony of ironies, I now find myself with reviews published in the May edition of a magazine that I once indignantly cancelled a subscription to. Just as well I've mellowed in the last 20 years and now have a more inclusive outlook. Here's hoping I can be part of an exciting new future for a great old institution...

Fred Grand

ICP Orchestra in Edinburgh...

For those who haven't encountered the ICP Orchestra, how would I best describe their music? Their acronym derives from the description Instant Composers Pool, and to my mind this only goes so far and was probably more pertinent when they started out in Amsterdam in the late '60s. The wholly improvised elements of each concert are fairly few and brief, and what they offer now is a more eclectic amalgam of incongruous juxtapositions. A mischievous undercurrent runs through everything they do, not to mention a potent whiff of absurdity. They'll play off beat jazz from Thelonious Monk and Herbie Nichols in the style of a '20s Swing band before departing into total abstraction and then returning with some traditional Dutch marching band music. A segue into a short section of Viennese 12 tone music, rudely disturbed by Han Bennink jumping up from his drum set to let out a loud Indian war whoop, could well be their next departure. They're not to everybody's taste - subversive, anarchic, funny, and cerebral, or just puerile and predictable? These are the questions I always wrestle with whenever I hear them, but last week's gig finally seemed to offer answers to me!



They came to Edinburgh with their strongest and most stable line-up for years. Wolter Wierbos and Thomas Heberer provided the brass, Ab Baars, Michael Moore and Tobias Delius the reeds, Mary Oliver, Tristan Honsinger and Ernst Glerum the strings, Han Bennink the percussion and Misha Mengelberg (of course) held it all loosely together on piano. The gig started with just Wierbos and the reeds, playing a post serialist improvisation with clarinets before Mengelberg entered and ran through a series of duets. Oliver and Honsinger entered to take the music further into improv/serialism territory, and 15 minutes had passed without a bar of anything recognisable as jazz. Were they playing with the audience, deliberately giving them a hard time for their own amusement?



With the solemnities out of the way and their long hair musicianly credentials firmly demonstrated, the fun began. A string of Mengelberg originals and several warhorses from Monk and Nichols (including '12 Bars' and 'Round Midnight') followed. Bennink left and entered the stage at will, wandering freely around the room and indulging in some of his Dada-ist stunts. Baars and Delius got generous solo space, and Thomas Heberer shone as a truly outstanding talent on the trumpet with no imitators or discernible influences. He has the same oblique approach to building a solo as Micheal Moore, and both men took their moments well and played some incredibly inventive solos.



'Loons' was Louise's verdict, and it'd be hard to disagree with that assessment. The concert hall equivalent of Lars von Trier's 'The Idiots', to play this kind of madcap poker-faced needs a certain amount of detachment. The humour may be hard to get beyond at first, but it should also be evident that these comic devices are not intended to mask any musical shortcomings. Knowing in general terms what the ICP Orchestra are all about gave me useful prior knowledge, but by paying close attention to the detail of the soloists and dynamics of the group work I found something of substance that was extremely rewarding in its self. Mengelberg disappointingly didn't take too much of the spotlight, and it'd have been good to hear him stretch out over a few pieces with Glerum and Bennink. On another occasion he probably would, but the tonal and timbral variety which the strings, brass and reeds offer the pianist from a programmatic perspective allow for an almost bewildering series of possibilities in each show, and the high turnover of ideas is evidence of just how little coasting there is.



This band is packed with large musical personalities and their unique and instantly recognisable voices were both playing to to the crowd's expectations and often exceeding them. Yes, some of the humour is knockabout, and listen to them too often and you could even find it goes stale. I won't go over the top and make parallels with Ellington, who also boasted a stable band of talented individuals who played very singular music, but it would be enough to say that the ICP Orchestra offer something genuinely unique. No matter how far the music breaks down, the group's great strength of a distinctively retro modernism always re-asserts its self, the ICP brand sound fully intact.



Predictable unpredictability or unpredictable predictability? Each can choose depending on whether they're a glass half empty/full type. As with all good things, moderation is essential. I rarely play their recordings and only catch members of the band playing live periodically, but this helps to keep it all fresh. If I see them again in 5 years time that will be enough for me. I know that it'll almost certainly be wonderful evening, and one so unique that only they are capable of providing it. Yes, I lost my skepticism...



Fred Grand

John Abercrombie & Julian Argüelles...

I'll leave the review of the ICP Orchestra until later because in many ways it will be a lot harder to write up than this pretty straight forward gig last Tuesday at Edinburgh's Queen's Hall. The short break in Edinburgh was just what we needed, and although the weather was poor we had no problem filling the days and the nights. This gig was the second we'd seen in as many evenings, and both made the perfect excuse for a visit to a beautiful city. There may have been no music on the third night, but we were lucky enough to catch a rare cinema screening of Connery as 007 in You Only Live Twice (1967) at The Filmhouse. How apt to catch this ludicrously enjoyable film in Connery's backyard, and I could write an entire post about the antics of a slightly disturbing German cinema-goer who sat in the row in front of ours and began shouting at the top of his voice for the projectionist to turn the sound down as soon as the opening sequences began to roll. Clearly furious at what was in all truth a pretty normal cinema experience, this was an Ernst Blofeld-esque moment to treasure!!

I first saw Argüelles over 20 years ago. Just as I was getting into jazz his career was gathering momentum and he seemed to pop up everywhere - from the big bands of Kenny Wheeler to CMN tours backing up countless visiting Americans. I was in the Midlands as a student in the mid to late 80s and the Wolverhampton bred Argüelles seemed to be so ubiquitous that I barely gave him any thought. Thinking back, I supose I saw in him a quiet guy who could clearly play, serious about his music but not particularly interesting or notable when compared to the many more exciting players I was discovering at the same time.

His brother Steve, a forward looking drummer who went to Paris to seek creative outlets, was always a better proposition to my ears. Neither seem to be particularly active at the moment, and several years have passed since my last encounter with the saxophonist. In the interim he's 'upgraded' and moved to Scotland, as well as spending some time in the US rubbing shoulders with some pretty heavyweight company. The trio of John Abercrombie, Mike Formanek and Tom Rainey he's currently touring with is top notch by any standard, the kind of group capable of going into any contemporary musical terrain - from free floating structures to straight ahead jazz via rock. I was intrigued beforehand at the prospect of seeing jut how the quiet Englishman would mesh with such a forceful bass/drums team, though the guitarist's pastoral streak seemed to offer a more obvious compliment to Argüelles' wispiness.

So how did it all stack up on the night? As unassuming as ever, Argüelles seemed pleased, if a little overawed, to be fronting such a group. He stuck exclusively to tenor, and for the most part played his own compositions, some written especially for the tour. Abercrombie played yet another of his handmade guitars, and Formanek had one of those small half size touring basses that seem to be increasingly popular as airlines get more and more greedy when it comes to carrying heavy and bulky luggage. It cramped his style a little, but I think that the lack of projection was more down to his amp settings and Abercrombie's continual changes of volume than the instrument its self. Rainey was as unpredictably inventive as ever, clear evidence that less is more when you make it count. Put them all together and, for all the bright moments, I'd have to say that we got something significantly less than inspiring.

On record I love Abercrombie and can listen to him for hours. His harmonic abstraction is about as far out as tonal music can be taken and his sound for ECM is always crystalline. Live, I'm yet to have a fully satisfactory experience from the guitarist. Constant knob-twiddling and over use of the effects rack (often within the same solo) make for a disjointed feel. Surely he's spent enough hours playing the guitar at this stage of his career to know what kind of sound he needs for each piece? Whilst Arguelles was silky smooth, Abercrombie often appeared ragged, only really cohering on his own piece 'Line Up' and Cole Porter's "Everything I Love'. He's never a man to take the obvious route from A to B, but a combination of spongy reverb-laden amp settings and Argüelles' harmonically bland music didn't really do him any favours.

Often compared to Elgar because of the very English type of lyricism in Argüelles compositions, I've come to the conclusion that for all his qualities he simply represents a type of jazz that I don't really enjoy. He plays with the speed and precision of a post-Brecker lick machine but his sound has the same ethereal presence as Jan Garbarek, who I love so much. To truly work the folksy ascetic path needs fewer notes to create vast musical spaces. The diametrically opposed fast and flash approach of Brecker school demands muscularity and a certain brash edge. With Argüelles, one competing influence cancels out the other and he ends up with neither. Despite being in the company of an ECM stalwart, a muscular bassist and one of the most inventive drummers you'll find, the results were curiously underwhelming. I'd love to have heard Tommy Smith fronting the same band, and his great musical grounding and situational flexibility would surely have succeeded.

Argüelles is clearly at ease and has offered a consistency within his chosen form of musical expression that cannot be disputed. His tunes are well conceived if slightly unmemorable, and his solos are extremely accurate in their execution. It would be unfair to suggest that he's a musical bore, and there were enough moments in this gig to make it worthwhile. Ultimately I suppose the problem is this - in over 20 years Argüelles' music has simply failed to force a way into my consciousness. It plays around the periphery without ever making the breakthrough. A lot of people in the disappointingly small audience seemed to agree, and there was no clamour for an encore. If the meek are ever to inherit the earth, Argüelles shows that the winning of hearts will perhaps be something he finds far harder than the winning of minds.

Fred Grand