Tomassenko - Beersel, 27/11/2003

Olivier Thomas - voc
Angélique Wilkie - voc
Anne Van der Plassche - voc
Jozef Dumoulin - Fender Rhodes, laptop
Geoffroy de Masure - tb
Michel Massot - tba, tb, euphonium
Teun Verbruggen - d

The De Meent Cultural Center's concerts are always (at least, the two times I've been there) special affairs, as both musicians and audience are huddled together on a big theater stage. This kind of forced intimacy works wonderfully for, well, intimate concerts: the other concert I saw there was a David Linx/Erik Truffaz/Diedrik Wissels (voice, trumpet, piano, for those who don't know them) trio that exploited the situation to magical effect. Tomassenko probably sound better when given a slightly bigger stage, but still put on a good show. Maybe the intimacy gave the vocalists and brass more room to play with on- and off-microphone textures.

Tomassenko is characterised by the wordless singing of its three vocalists (Olivier Thomas being the group's leader), which is supported by rich, funky music. The concert started with just Thomas behind the keyboards and Massot on euphonium. Fender, voice and brass blended to delicately trace out beautiful lines. De Masure then joined in playing small, restrained phrases on harmon-muted trombone (prompting easy, but I think apt, comparaisons to Miles Davis's harmon-muted trumpet) and the group progressively filled out, while the music remained appealingly subdued. As the vocals swelled, they gained a sort of African quality, like a kind of invocation. We were jolted out of this rêverie when Thomas suddenly launched into a funky voice percussion-cupped trombone duo, with the two back-up vocalists adding a JB horn section-like riff.

Anybody brave enough to sing a whole concert wordlessly has got to be a little weird and have a good sense of humour. This was first shown when Thomas and De Masure engaged in a spluttering, quasi-acting duet. Later on, Thomas would do a dance reminiscent of those 80s techno music videos in which sounds are represented visually (these still happen today as in the first few seconds of this video). After a downtempo, electro-lounge interlude where Thomas was again alone behind the Fender Rhodes, he shouted out "Fender!" to call Dumoulin back on stage. I thought it was pretty funny.

Clowning around also gave way to multi-cultural mish-mashes, as when a pre-recorded choir of [whatever it is you call wiggling your lips with a finger to make baby noises] (which sounded a bit like a couple of dijeridoos) were underscored by clattering, broken drum beats and keyboard tones, all of which eventually gave its place up for a bit of pseudo-Tibetan chanting.

I was originally intrigued by this group because I tend to see the musicians in it in more difficult settings (Tribu, Octurn). It was interesting to hear, for example, De Masure's straight-forward funkiness, which is usually a bit hidden. Dumoulin continued to impress me with his development on Fender (when I mentioned this to him, he replied, "Yes, I read about that," which was pretty damn bizarre. But still satisfying.). Again, in a clearer, less difficult context, it was easier to appreciate all that he does. A sort of funky baroque part on the second song was particularly satisfying.

The last song before the encore began with a capella harmonising and counter-point, a 3/4 with a kind of southern european feel. When the instruments joined in after a few minutes, Massot started by popping out a few amazingly voice-like notes from his tuba's very upper register. An atmospheric, glitchy backdrop provided by Dumoulin's laptop subsided when tuba and trombone introduced a riff allowing a mid-tempo 4/4 back-beat. The vocals then reduced to one line only vaguely reminiscent of the original chorale. On the bridge however, the group reverted to the original 3/4 and came closer to a fuller re-interpretation of the chorale introduciton. After a space-funky keyboard solo, the band became one percussive machine, with multiple interlocking riffs, for about 30 glorious seconds.

The encore was the only song with real lyrics. They were about a white elephant nonchalantly walking down the street (at first it was in a tram, so presumably he got out. Anyone who has been on a Brussels tram knows that this is unlikely: the doors are way too narrow for even a baby elephant to squeeze through. I've even wondered how heftier humans manage to get on and off.), wondering why everyone was staring at him.