Monné-Solsona Quartet - 30/06/2007@Jamboree, Barcelona

Vincens Solsonna - g
Joan Monné - p
Giula Valle - b
Ramon A. Rey - d

A strange happened when we returned to the Jamboree for the Monné-Solsona Quartet's second set: they played the exact same set-list again. It's not as if the house had been turned out: the guy at the door stamped our hands as we stepped out for air specifically so that we could get back inside without paying. So I have no idea what they were thinking. That said, I have equally little idea why guitarists play like Vincens Solsona did, either: that slightly echoey, unrelentingly bright, treble-only tone is one I have little affection for, especially when coupled with lots of fast lines relatively bereft of rhythm and Pat Metheny-lite ballads. Thankfully, the rest of the quartet was more interesting.

When the guitar laid out, the trio gained in impact and rhythmic cohesion. Joan Monné's playing wasn't terribly interesting harmonically or melodically, but it was lively and intricate. Ramon A. Rey had an interesting style that distributed busy polyrhythms all over the kit. Giula Valle was the real musician of the bunch, though, leaving in some rough edges and really interacting with her bandmates and trying to push them. Her composition, "Love Song," was the most interestingly-constructed original of the repertoire, as its ostinato-fuelled, almost Reid Anderson-style rock song intensity suggested a rather... vigorous personality. How out-of-step she was with the leader was highlighted whenever Solsona attempted to accompany one of her too-rare solos: he was painfully ill-at-ease and square.

Valle's contribution aside, there was a worrying schism between cute head arrangements and the blowing sections that reduced them to mere window-dressing. Still, a nice hall of mirrors effect was achieved on a mash-up of "Evidence" and "All The Things You Are." The first time around, before learning of what, exactly, was going on, I wondered why they were playing "All The Things You Are" with "Evidence"'s staccato phrasing. The second time, I understood that it was "Evidence," but with the chord changes to "All The Things You Are" underneath. It was a little disorienting, but that aside, is there a deeper musical reason to bring these two together?

It looks like I missed David Valdez's visit to Jamboree by a few days, with Libert Fortuny putting on a wild show.

Jacky Terrasson Trio - 25/03/2007@Pathé Palace, Bruxelles

Jacky Terrasson - p
Ugonna Okegwo - b
Leon Parker - d

It's been a pretty exceptional week for piano trios: Jason Moran, Bojan Z, Susie Ibarra (if that counts as a piano trio) and now Jacky Terrasson (let's not forget McCoy Tyner before them). It's been the kind of happy week that makes you breathe deeply, smile and think that jazz is alive, well and fragrant. While Terrasson's was the most traditional of the week's trios, his appropriation of the standards repertoire was just as personal as, say, Ibarra's compositions.

An example of Terrasson's personalisation came early, as the concert started with a 5/4 version of "Smile" augmented by a Jarrett-ian pop-gospel-blues riff. Ugonna Okegwo played a syncopated almost-vamp that implied another meter, creating a rich polyrhythmic groove. The bassist didn't have an amp, but played directly into the microphone, which gave him a pleasantly non-juiced-up sound, like organic food to the bass amp's industrially inflated produce. They reached a euphoric climax when the added riff was repeated emphatically over and over, before dissipating in an Impressionistic haze. A conceptually similar approach to "St. Thomas" closed the concert, this time with Leon Parker playing half-time funk under Terrasson's sunny calypso.

Terrasson is an easy-to-love crowd pleaser. Not because he indulges in showy effects (though there were a few - and why shouldn't there be, anyway?), but because his superb pacing gives his playing a real dramatic arc and a sense of humour. He allows himself, and us, time to think and breathe. So, an improbably long, densely chromatic line will land comfortably on the tonic and the one, the demands of form will be casually set aside for moments of percussive joy, and just as easily returned to.

"Caravan" was sly and slinky, with a playfully provocative piano solo, to which Parker gave understated replies. The drummer then took his own solo, magnificently full of dynamic, rhythmic and timbral contrasts. On "Crepuscule With Nellie," there was far less formal recreation than in Moran's version, but the minimalist swing was powerful.

This concert was part of a full day of free concerts entitled Jazz in Europe Now. Earlier, I attempted to go see young Hungarian saxophonist Gabor Bolla at the Music Village, but it was overflowing. I got no further than the sidewalk. What I did manage to hear sounded like athletic, Michael Brecker/Branford Marsalis post-bop.

I'd never been to the Pathé Palace before: it's a movie theater with unexpectedly great sound that put the Ancienne Belgique's handling of Moran's trio to shame. All the concerts were packed - 100 people were reportedly turned away from the Terrasson gig - which is partly why I didn't go to any of the other events. The other reason was competition.

do poster and music coincide? you decide!

There were two concerts at the Archiduc the same day: the young improv duo Sparks (myspace) and the Lew Tabackin Trio (seen at the Archiduc 3.5 years ago). By the time I got there, Sparks was long over, but I had a great Chimay-fuelled chat with bassist Tom Blancarte (myspace) and trumpeter Peter Evans (myspace) about life in NYC, Geneva's bizarre ghost town quality, the popularity of Belgian beer in America, salsa and the heaping of much praise on Taylor Ho Bynum ("that's how he talks!"), among other things.

Lew Tabackin, Boris Kozlov, Mark Taylor

I actually stayed just long enough to catch Tabackin's first solo, which exuded a wonderful, deep, powerful swing. Once again, I couldn't help but feel that if talented people simply continued to make the music that was real to them, then jazz would be fine, even in this moment of jazzblogosphere doubt.

(A)Live At Etna - 17/03/2007@Steiner School, Antwerpen

When I was in high school, I never went to see the high school bands some of my friends/acquaintances were in. I never had the chance to hear something like "Zusammen Gekomen," the result of running The Beatles' "Come Together" through an automatic translator, being dedicated to the German teacher - with the dedicatee present. So I had a lot of catching up to do. But why was I here in the first place? Well, the event was taking place at IVN's little sister's school and her trombonist boyfriend was in the second of the three bands. So, even though I could have seen an Anthony Braxton/Joëlle Léandre duo up in Bruges, I wasn't. I'm too lazy to go to Bruges more than once every six months, anyway.

3, 2, 1... Explosion went on first, thrashing out wooly, shambolic but not unambitious 70's rock. Memorably, the first lyrics the singer (who, strangely, was the dorkiest band member) sang were "Go, go, Power Rangers!" I was surprised kids still know them.

Darpoeka (pronounced darpooka, rhythm section and saxophone-trumpet-trombone) bill themselves as ska-funk-jazz and did what it says on the tin. It's always fun to see youngsters enjoying upbeat, unfussy and, importantly, concise versions of "Watermelon Man" and "Chameleon."

Still, the best band was undoubtedly the last, Leafpeople (and the only ones to be found on myspace), of "Zusammen Gekomen" fame. They started with a few originals, during which singer/guitarist/keyboardist Johannes Genard showed a surprising knack for lyrics, especially as I assume english isn't his native language. For example, "Herzeloyde"'s description of a girlfriend in the same terms generally used to describe an underground band: "She's the kind of girl the rest of the world would call 'experimentally pretty'/She's the kind of girl no-one else knows about except me." Then there was the funny, well-crafted stage show, which included a recreation, flash cards and backing dancers included, of the "I Feel Like I'm Fixin' To Die Rag" and a drum solo interrupted by the drummer's dash to the front of the stage to perform a brief Macarena. During Darpoeka's set, he had led a conga line through the crowd, so maybe this was to be expected.

Frederik Leroux/Toine Thys duo - 20/01/2007@Caravan, Brussels

Both Toine and Frederik (website) have recently released albums that draw on various forms of pop and rock as much as they do on jazz, so it was interesting to hear them play standards in an unadorned setting. Non-jazz influences were allowed to creep in, though: Frederik's scratchingly noisy comping on Monk's "Evidence" recalled some of Angular's heavy rock outbursts, while an arrangement of the Beach Boys' "God Only Knows" brought the pair closer to Rackham's melodic sensibility.

Despite the ambient noise level, they eventually managed to settle into a luxuriant, unhurried space driven as much by a song's sound as by its chords. Toine told me afterwards that he would like to model this duo on the Paul Motian Trio's rubato abstraction. Though no real attempt was made to do so in this instance, it was easy to imagine it happening.

Caravan is a café-restaurant, and confirmed my dislike for restaurant gigs, but is a good place to have a meal: it's small and unpretentious, but well-decorated, the food is good (I was told) and very affordable, the desserts are excellent (I had two, the banana and almond cake and the tiramisú). The soundtrack after the concert included Fela Kuti's "Water," a sign of good taste. The only problem is that you might be disturbed by the musicians in the corner.

Since last December, I've been hearing a lot about Le Comptoir des Etoiles, which has started holding three concerts a week (on Wednesday, Friday and Saturday) and filling Brussels's disappearing after-hours jam scene. I expected it to be a dive, but, while cramped, it's a lovely bar that's really devoted to jazz and manages to express that in a way that isn't cheesy. The grey-and-red walls are covered in polaroids, photos, framed Blue Note album covers and silver, hand-written inscriptions. Toine and I got there at maybe 1:30 AM and at 2 he generated enough enthusiasm for a round of standards and bop tunes to start up again. I was particularly taken with Frans Van Isacker (Franco Saint De Bakker myspace), an alto player I'd never heard before who had a real Cool Jazz sensibility.

Thomas Champagne Trio - 14/12/2006@Kudeta, Brussels

don't call it bubbly

Thomas Champagne - as (website)
Nicolas Yates - b
Ben Prischi - p

I met Thomas at the as-yet-unblogged-about Octurn workshop the day after this concert. I was struck by his light, high-pitched sound as he sight-read Magic Malik's music half a metre to my left. Unsurprisingly, Jazzques was on the ball long before me.

The line-up was unusual: drummer Didier Van Uytvanck was unavailable and replaced by a pianist, Ben Prischi (again, Jazzques beat me to it). The trio was really still at a working-things-out stage, so between the two sets, Thomas and Ben exchanged gleeful "Hey, chords!" and "Harmonic tension!" Unfortunately, Ben had to play on a keyboard, which was to a piano what a neon tube is to a light bulb.

The trio was light on its feet: Nicholas Yates's time was as rubbery as his body language, Thomas floated and danced demurely, while Ben, a well-mannered guest, refrained from imposing upon his hosts, even though Thomas's compositions were open enough in design to survive the piano's intrusion and encourage spacious-yet-melodic improvisation. I'm looking forward to hearing the working trio in better conditions, and Ben on a real piano.



The Kudeta is a relatively new restaurant owned by singer Francis Goya and his wife and has just started hosting gigs on Thursdays. A gold record (25,000 copies) for Nostalgia hangs on the wall behind the bandstand. I think it was my first restaurant concert and although the interior was superbly designed, I didn't like the feeling of it at all. The keyboard-as-piano increased my unease. I'd rather go to a club.

Clément Nourry - 17/12/2006@La Quarantaine, Bruxelles

Clément Nourry - g (MySpace)

Clément is one of the first people I met when I moved to Belgium. After a set by the Inaudibles collective and before a Han Bennink-Cor Fuhler duo, in an uncommon access of solitude-fueled bravery, I randomly went up to him and asked him what he had thought of it. Afterwards, we crossed paths often at many concerts, the latest being the Schlippenbach trio, and even went to a few together. Clément has also been known to offer me a hot chocolate. Opportunities to see him play have been scarce, but memorable - the Llop Borja concert a year ago being a case in point.

He started the concert with soft plings that rised slowly, soothingly. The plinging turned harsher, but always a few notes would ring out and decay beautifully. Thus, it was not surprising when he latched on to a one-chord blues arpeggio. Actually, the only entry listed in both the "Influences" and "Sounds Like" categories of Clément's MySpace page is Bob Dylan, so maybe it was to be expected, regardless of the high tongue-in-cheek quotient. The arpeggio was built upon and moved around in various ways until the passing of the slide over the strings from one place to another became the central sound. The avant-blues/gutbucket trope was a recurrent one: later, rhythmic unpitched plucking morphed into stinging Delta blues shot through with high harmonics for that avant edge.



"In A Sentimental Mood" and a bebop standard that I could sing along to but not name served as crucibles for an inventive and natural mix of light, straight-ahead jazz, fuzzy rock and rollicking r'n'b. Another standard, which sometimes sounded like "Someone To Watch Over Me" but probably wasn't, opened onto soft, sensitive chords that swelled and faded. Throughout the concert, phrasing, volume, tone and density were carefully shifted around, so that overall texture spoke its own volumes.



The visceral pleasures of melody, texture and noise that implies volume without effecting it were also embodied in a great song whose harmony evoked Metheny, a hushed "Lonely Woman" and a chiming, dreamy, music box-like piece whose unusually pure notes were left to hang and glimmer. Towards the end of the concert, a steadfast blues shuffle was followed by a laid-back country-ish tune, and the kind of simple-yet-complex-yet-direct communication Clément wished to engage in was made amply clear. Afterwards, La Quarantaine, a place that hosts photo exhibitions and sells insane coffee table photography books, put on Fennesz's Venice, a nonchalantly über-hip move that made a lot of sense.

Poznan Nightingales - 08/12/2006@OLV Katedraal, Antwerpen

Poznan Nightingales (website)

IVN's parents invited us to this Christmas concert in Antwerpen's cathedral. Antwerpenaars alledgedly call it the most beautiful in the world. I'd be hard-pressed to agree.

I got there a bit late, but the first half of the concert consisted of Mozart. The choral, ranging in age from grandchildren to grandparents, was a little underpowered for the vast space, but I was impressed by their ensemble softness. The second half started with Bach and Handel, which were rather bland and maybe even a bit rough. I was really waiting for the Polish songs at the end of the program. They put the sheet music away and simply sang, naturally and instinctively. It all came powerfully alive, no thinking about German pronunciation.

I spent the rest of the week-end at IVN parents' home. I managed to read 1.5 chapters of Bob Dylan's Chronicles. In the first chapter alone, there were at least 10 delightful phrases that screamed "use me as your subtitle," but Hunter S. Thompson is still up there. I also listened to the Toots Thielemans installment in the De Morgen jazz series (another unfinished project...), which I don't have. It starts with some great George Shearing Quintet tracks and is excellent throughout the 50s and 60s. It seems that the 80s were when Toots developed his cold, irritating TV soundtrack sound...

Suikerrock 2006, day 3 - 29/07/2006, Tienen

Tienen is one of those places that you have to know both French and Dutch names of if you're hoping to find it on a map, as it's Tirlemont in French. Road signs will switch from one language to another (Liège -> Luik, Mons -> Bergen) without warning.


The singer announced "This next song is by Christina Aguilera. It's called 'I eat Britney's shit.'" I was disappointed: I'd hoped for a "Ain't No Other Man" cover. The set started out fairly metal, but became more straight-forwardly rock as it wore on, which the crowd appreciated. They ended with the only song I recognised, "Diane," (because I heard it on the radio a few days ago) after having played "Die Laughing" "In honour of Syd Barrett. [crickets] Who died last week. [crickets] Big deal in Belgium." The bassist played shiny silver basses and spitted acrobatically. "Adios, motherfuckers."



Heather Nova

The main reason for our presence. Logically, she brought her rock band rather than the chamber group we saw last time. She didn't disappoint, her eyes distant and melancholic, even when rocking out.

The final sequence of "All I Need" (slow 12/8 quasi-soul) and "Sugar" (all-out rock, topped off with a great solo by the lead guitarist) was particularly good (and particularly well-suited to a festival called Sugar Rock). The lead guitarist's every gesture was that little bit cooler, simply because she was a woman, even if she was built like a trucker.








Freeform Five

Apparently, a studio/remixing project gone live. None of the five people on stage looked like nerdy studio types, least of all the two far-too-good-looking male and female singers. Pleasant, in a little bit of dance, little bit of rock, little bit of rap kind of way.

The Human League

Like opening a time capsule and being reassured that, yes, the 80s really were exactly as you remember. They even had three of those strap-on keyboards, which, unfortunately, I didn't get to see on stage all at the same time. The only thing added to the capsule was a Mac laptop, as resplendently white as the rest of the stage set. After a handful of songs, we closed the time capsule.



The Go Go Prophecy

A singer roaming the stage in front of a keyboardist/guitarist and laptop guy huddled in a cubicle. The second song consisted first of a cool, hoarsely shouted verse over a thudding beat, with lyrics that made me think "This is such a MySpace band" ("What's your sign/What's your colour" etc.) and second of a terrible sing-song, guitar-strum chorus that confirmed it ("From virgin smile to porno slut/From DIY to Web Web Web", "Cruising on the Internet"). Inexplicably, this song is not on their MySpace profile. They did play "Cannot Touch My Candy" and "Undercover," though.

The announcer came out afterwards and declared TGGP "100 times better than The Human League," which they certainly were, at least on the tiny "new talent" stage. Far from great, but very loveable, which sometimes is more important. IVN, O and I were hardcore fans by the end. Admittedly, my enjoyment was greatly enhanced by the very sexy girl dancing a few steps in front of me.




Praga Khan

We went into this one in "we'll stay a bit if it doesn't suck" mode, but ended up watching the whole set. I'm not much of a techno fan, but thanks to thorax-rattling sound, a mixture of electronics and live instruments and a couple of wild, sexy dancers, I thoroughly enjoyed it. I may even go to a rave someday. Weirdly, PK's leader is from Tienen, which seemed a very unremarkable, sleepy town.



Peripheral entertainment

Coca-Cola nurses (pictured above) giving out massages, a couple of P Magazine models posing for pictures with passing males (I convinced IVN to get a photo with them, I think she was the only girl to do so), Cointreau cocktails and a Superman-themed monster truck crushing a Jaguar, among other sights and sounds.

Klinkende Munt Day 3 - 07/07/06, Brussels

Kurt Van Herck Trio
Van Herck is a near-ubiquitous saxophone player, with the Brussels Jazz Orchestra for instance, but he rarely leads his own groups. His last album came out 10 years ago. His new album (which, coincidentally, was waiting for me when I got home) is in trio with guitarist Jacques Pirotton and drummer Mimi Verderame, playing the unrecorded compositions of Karl Van Deun, a barely known guitarist. It's almost the Herbie Nichols Project, on a Belgian scale (and Van Deun is alive and well). The sparsely populated tent wasn't exactly the best environment for this music, what with kids running around, people moving in and out, a basketball tournament outside, etc. Still, what I managed to hear (I got there late) was unexpectedly good, but I'll listen to the CD before discussing it further.

---

The Bad Plus
I had high hopes - very high hopes - for this one, which were easily surpassed. If anyone invites a blow-by-blow review, it's TBP, so I apologise in advance for what's to come.

The concert was insane, as in insanely good, but also as in "TBP is crazy!" On the left, you had Ethan Iverson, generally cool as ice behind the piano or dead-panning these incredible spoken introductions that must be at least partly improvised or embellished, because even his bandmates were laughing. The intro to "1980 World Champion" was particularly good, involving Lyle Mays (not Lyle Mays), a ski jumping world champion from Ann Arbor, Michigan, who celebrated his title every day by dancing in the street. On the right, you had Dave King, whose body movements have to be seen to be believed. I guess he has a reputation as a banger, but he's actually more likely to be making a subtle kind of clatter. And then, in the middle you had Reid Anderson, the dapper bassist. What they do as a group is even more impressive live than on record: you can really see how they fit bits of improv into the the manic arrangements' interstices. And, of course, there's the random stuff thrown out apparently just to keep people guessing, such as the brief groovy soul bass solo that served as coda King's "Thrift Store Jewelery," totally unrelated to the modest melody and Latin undertow of the body of the song.

They played a lot of new, unrecorded songs. Ethan's concert-opening "Mint" continually seemed to have two things going on at once, and juxtaposed a dozen more, starting with some great abstract piano blues. Reid is an awesome composer, whose pieces tend to have a rock song feel to them. The first encore, "Physical Cities," was the biggest and best of them: it switched between ascending piano arpeggios over a hard-driving riff and a stabbing hip hop groove. The downshift from the stomping latter to the low-lying former was particularly delicious. And then, out of nowhere, came this unison morse code staccato section, with lots of dramatic rests. Imagine the rhythm of a Tim Berne composition, played on one note. It might have lasted 90 seconds, but what was so thrilling about it was that I truly had no idea how long it would go on, or what would come next (which happened to be a massive beat based on the morse code).

"Casa Particular," another unrecorded tune, surprised - shocked, even - by staying in one engrossingly low-key place throughout: King pushed forward relentlessly, but on brushes and very quietly (I was reminded of Jorge Rossy on the version of "Exit Music (For A Film)" on Mehldau's Art of the Trio: vol. 4), while the piano drifted and dreamt prettily. "1980 World Champion," like "1972 Bronze Medallist" before it, set up big, simple chords and then sprinkled them with dissonance. Here, though, it was done over a fast 2-beat that, when King picked up a tambourine and Ethan played some blues, lent the song a fervent gospel feel.



Of course, TBP is loved and hated for their covers (even though I generally find their originals more rewarding). Their versions of Interpol's "Narc" and Bacharach's "This Guy's In Love With You" had some common ground: sweeping crescendos leading to a big chorus, for example. The Bacharach was the more sarcastic one: a subdued 12/8 led to faux cocktail piano; sleigh bells comically accented a break. Ornette Coleman's "Song X" (I don't have that album, must get it) started with the melody played in trio unison three times, with yawning chasms of silence in between. This led to fast Ornette-ish swing, open and rambunctious, and the most traditionally-configured piano solo + rhythm section passage of the concert. What happened next was, therefore, totally unexpected. Reid subverted the song twice: first by playing a slow and relatively melodic solo, then, as he stuck ultra-quietly and minimally to a couple of high-register notes, King rubbed a whining, blinking toy on his floor tom. Deploying near-silence against a somewhat talkative crowd was bold and brilliant. Well, it all seemed subsersive to me, and on a tune by the nec plus ultra in jazz subversiveness, no less!

Finally, the second encore (concerts in the tent usually struggle to get one encore, so it's a tribute to TBP that they could easily have gotten a third, if the organisers hadn't wrapped it up) was "Chariots Of Fire," as requested by an audience member. Some people don't like this cover, but I think the superposition of the theme, played at varying tempos, and an unrelated funky bass line really works. Also, the way it opens up into a scrambling free section reminds me of my all-time favourite TBP cover, Blondie's "Heart Of Glass" on These Are The Vistas. Here, Ethan started the song standing stock-still, staring unblinkingly out into space and playing a few notes with his hand behind his back. Those theatrical touches are fantastic and really help them communicate with the audience. Both times Ethan named the band members, they'd play fragments of a theme music: silly, but great fun.

Afterwards, we had a jazzblogger tripartite summit (not quite Yalta, but almost?) with Ethan and Jazzques at the Archiduc, laughing and discussing everything from Brad Mehldau to hip hop to blogging to TBP itself to writing/reading about music to the virtues and advantages of the siesta and many other things I'm forgetting. Reid and sound man/engineer/designer Michael (I think) joined us later. Excellent times. One interesting thing I hadn't really realised was the extent to which Ethan is a jazz kid. Do The Math hints at that, but I'd always assumed he started out from a classical and contemporary music background, but not at all. On a personal note, there was absolutely none of the awkwardness you usually get around visiting musicians, who are, essentially, people you've never met before. Maybe it's Ethan's sense of midwest hospitality or something.

Klinkende Munt 2006 Day 2 - 06/07/2006, Brussels

I skipped day 1 to watch France qualify for the World Cup final. Priorities.

Acoustic Ladyland
The band name initially faithfully represented its music: modern post-bop jazz covers of Hendrix tunes. To be honest, it was a little boring. Between their first and second albums, they morphed into an instrumental rock-almost-punk band. Last Chance Disco is really good and fun. Now, it would seem that they've morphed fully into a punk band. The ingredients remain similar (Pete Wareham's rough-hewn tenor saxophone wailing and declaiming of simple, punchy riffs, Tom Cawley's finely-textured keyboards, Tom Herbert's pared-down electric bass and Seb Rocheford's drumming, either everything-at-once punk or beats with more room to breathe), but there's more singing by Wareham, more decibels and more wall-of-sound-ness, especially on the new songs that will be on their upcoming album (or maybe I just haven't listened to Last Chance Disco loud enough).

I tend to prefer their songs that are less dense and have more rhythm, so I was a bit disappointed there weren't more of them. At those times, Cawley's crucial contributions became clear. At the band's loudest, the sound system struggled with the volume: the saxophone was often a bit lost in the mass and the keyboards weren't very clear.

Afterwards, I discussed MySpace (a recurring theme, it would turn out) with Tom H. and the Hnita's Peter Anthonissen. Teun showed up and informed me that Jef had signed with Universal Music (Belgium).

Clotaire K
The highlight of this concert was when a guy came on stage wearing a skull mask, Freddy Krueger claws, a black t-shirt and shiny suit era pants and danced around, mock-attacking the other band members. Apart from that, it was semi-convincing 10 year old IAM with a dash of North African influences. It didn't help that the front man kept on berating the crowd, even though little of what they were doing deserved wild enthusiasm. At one point, the DJ would scratch for 5 seconds, then stop, and applause would be demanded. Over and over...

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Soweto Kinch
I was eagerly awaiting this one, as I'd never seen Kinch live and really like Conversations With The Unseen. I'll get the disappointing parts out of the way first. One, the repertoire was mostly taken from the two year old album, but in virtually identical arrangements. While "Snake Hips"'s pot-pourri is still pleasant to hear, I expected far more deviation from the record. Two, it was more traditional than I expected. So there were a lot of solos that failed to really matter. Kinch is unabashedly a bop-derived alto player, which isn't a problem - it actually highlights and enhances the newer hip hop elements he brings in - but while he's got plenty of technique, too often I didn't feel like I was getting more than that. Now for the good stuff.

Kinch is a super-charismatic stage presence: funny, spontaneous, outgoing, charming. He's a good rapper and an excellent lyricist. "Jazz Planet" has a cheesy concept (what if jazz was the dominant music?), but the words and flow make it work: "What if jazz could solve world wars/And swinging on 2 and 4 was a government law," a bit about boy bands scuffling for work and lip-synching being a dying artform practiced only at summer camps in Dartmoor (Dartmouth?), DJs sitting back at concerts and muttering about jazz musicians stealing all the gigs, etc. "Adrian" started out as a fairly traditional bop ballad, but in the middle, Kinch rapped mesmerisingly, at a slow tempo and with just the bass as accompaniment, about the song's hapless, tragic hero. Before going off stage, Kinch requested six words from the audience for a freestyle. They were: North Korea, peace, cables, fever, hip hop and bebop. Kinch linked them all together impressively and imaginatively, with each key word preceded by 3-4 lines that allowed it to arrive naturally and climactically.

The encore was "A Friendly Game Of Basketball," by far the best instrumental piece. After a ricocheting head, trumpeter/singer Abram Wilson took a solo that started to bring the energy level up, Kinch and drummer Troy Miller then proceeded to engage in the most hard-driving uptempo improvising of the night. It was fantastic, but at a level they should have reached after a few songs, not right at the end.

More photos here (wardrobe alert: I have the same blue short-sleeve shirt the bassist is wearing, and might even have worn it yesterday if I didn't need to sow a button back on).

JazzFact - Antwerpen, 24/06/2006

[addition: the musicians' names are Seppe Gebruers (p), Nathan Wouters (b), Jakob Warmenbol (d)]

In February, I went to see the Brad Mehldau Trio and was genuinely surprised at how young the crowd was. IVN's 17 and 14 year old sisters are budding jazz fans that I'm doing a little bit to nuture, and the eldest's boyfriend is also a fan, but all three play instruments. The BMT concert's crowd, however, seemed to confirm a more general, young enthusiasm for the music.

JazzFact is a part of this generation: the pianist is 16, the bassist 17, the drummer 18. One of the consequences of their youth led to a rarely heard bandstand phrase: after checking his mobile phone, the bassist quietly said "My mother's on her way." They played a few standards: "All Of You," "All The Things You Are," "'Round Midnight" (at 2 PM), "Blue Monk." Normally, such young groups (and even more veteran groups) tend to play standards in a very, well, standard way, to the point of cliché, eliciting an "A for effort" kind of response. JazzFact is different: they took all the themes apart (the pianist's spreading of "Blue Monk"'s riff-theme all over the form was particularly succesful) and fearlessly launched into very open and interactive stream-of-conciousness playing. A very bold approach, that revealed imrpessive amounts of sophistication and knowledge.

The tiny, stick-thin pianist was visibly passionate, often going aggressively far out enough to make me wonder if he'd become the next Fred Van Hove. But it wasn't random, as was made clear when he came out of a free-time section with a Swing Era figure, or when, on "Blue Monk," the trio oscillated between free and bluesy swing. The drummer interpolated swing rhythms and cleverly injected polyrhythms into rubato passages.

Obviously, there were a also a lot of nits that could be picked: the tunes ran rather long, there could have been more dynamic and textural variety and rhythmic cohesiveness, etc. However, I'd rather be impressed by the trio's collaborative, listening-based approach and trust that they'll continue working at it enough that the next time I see them, it won't be in a random bar lost in the suburbs of Antwerpen.

Fête de l'Iris - 07/05/2006

The action took place on the place du Sablon, under a tent whose painted façade evoked a fairground and whose interior reconstituted a wood-and-mirrors Brussels bistrot. I honestly didn't think the concerts were taking place there, and circled 'round the back before realising.

As I came in, Jef Neve's trio was starting "Nobody's an illegal," a title which currently has resonance on both sides of the Atlantic. The real show-stopper came later, though, with "Second Love." It was my third time hearing this tune, which will be on the recently recorded third album to be released in November, and the best yet.

"Second Love" is the kind of thing that is truly unique to the JNT and that JN is getting better and better at writing. If you remember my description of Flim Music, a justifiable criticism could be that it hews too rigidly to its structure and exposes it too harshly. SL also has several sections and metres, but they are longer and flow or transition into each other much more organically: there is no sense of counting the bars 'til the next event. From the opening amorous piano wanderings to right-hand flurries over a powerful groove to intoxicating spirals over a more sedated beat, none of it sounds forced.

One of the main motifs is a menacingly regular 10-beat bass vamp that is overlaid with brooding Radiohead-ish chords. I mentioned the similarity to Jef afterwards and from his response I gathered that he'd never really listened to Radiohead until someone gave him a CD of their's after hearing "Second Love." He seemed a little troubled by the similarity.

Next up was Flat Earth Society with guest star Elliott Sharp, but I didn't hear much as I was waiting outside for IVN's sister and her boyfriend. We were all dying of hunger and had to venture beyond the über-expensive Sablon for pita and fries.

The fête's undisputed highlight was the Philip Catherine/Sylvain Luc guitar duo. From the very first notes of "On Green Dolphin Streets" they managed to create an intimate after-hours, back-of-the-bar ambiance. They leaned back on their white plastic garden chairs, nearly constantly looked into each other's eyes and radiated immense joy in playing together and tossing ideas back and forth. It was impossible to listen and not feel happy. The entire crowd was delighted. Elliott Sharp occasionally listened in the back, his face inscrutable.

Catherine's and Luc's (which makes them sound distressingly like a couple. I guess that's what happens when two last names are on a first name basis) styles contrasted greatly, but their musical goals much less. Catherine's body language, whatever the size or prestige of the stage he happens to be on, always conveys loveably insouciant "oh, you want me to play some guitar?" informality. Luc is a much more technical player (the sheer number of ways in which his fingers extract sound from the instrument is astounding). I'd heard reports of over-virtuosity, but that was not the case here.

Some more general thoughts. Catherine is part of the Charlie Christian lineage, while Luc, although what he played bore no resemblance to gypsy jazz, belongs to Django Rheinhardt's (he did hint directly at Django when, for a few brief moments, he held his guitar nearly upright in his lap and strummed a furious gyspy rhythm). The traditional jazz guitar sound seems to deny the guitar's string instrument nature and wants to sound like breath, in emulation of a horn. Probably because this facilitates blues inflections. Discussing guitarist Chuck Wayne, Bill Crow says:

Chuck began to develop his own approach to jazz guitar when he first heard Coleman Hawkins playing "Body and Soul." Chuck wanted to create solo lines like those of Hawkins, and that prompted him to invent picking and fingering techniques that made his solos sound more like legato phrases blown through a wind instrument.

The Django tradition, though, revels in the strings. Perhaps this is because the music's other main instrument is the violin? Luc's sound is extremely stringy, sometimes to the detriment of clarity, but there was a particularly luminous moment at the end of one tune, when he played a sort of fingerstyle high on the neck and sounded just like a harp's middle register.

The day-long festivities ended with Ntoumos, which is a funky/drum'n'bass/electro jazz quartet (joined by a singer/rapper/poet) led by trumpeter Dominic Ntoumos. Good, hip party band. It was interesting to contrast Ntoumos's drummer's crisp post-d'n'b funk playing with Teun Verbruggen's (who played with the JNT and FES) far woolier, yet no less contemporary, style.

let's go out to the ball game

The last paragraph of Alex Ross's Mostly Mozart review sounded like an inverted echo of something I exclaimed at Middelheim: conditions at jazz concerts are often - way too often - terrible.

"Change the perspective and the music changes, too," says Ross of a Row A experience. I couldn't agree more. It's the basic reason we still go to concerts, in the age of recording: to be up close, to see the sweat on the brow, to hear un- or less-mediated sound. It's firmly embedded in the conciousness of the jazz fan that live music is the real thing and that recordings are that'll-have-to-do ersatzes. And yet, time and time again the concert experience fails to live up to the ideal.

Clubs are too smokey, too loud, too disinterested (see Bill Zavatsky's screed against the audience assembled at the Village Vanguard to, purportedly, listen to Bill Evans in vol. 13 issue #3 of Dave Liebman's newsletter), too loud (the I'm-deaf-so-I'll-make-you-deaf-too soundman syndrome), too lax time-wise.

Halls are too cold, too big, too stuffy, too expensive.

Festivals are too big, too overstuffed, too boring, the acoustics too poor, too under-staffed, too expensive, too far, too frequent, too overlapping.

And, in passing, as I had imagined, the music on swod's CD, Gehen, is definitely better enjoyed in the living room than in the park.

That said, places to go:

The Sounds: best club experience in Brussels, probably.
CC Luchtbal: a hall that, in addition to hosting a bizarre mix of punk, metal and adventurous free jazz, is priced more than reasonably (thank you, government subsidies!) and manages to be roomy while retaining some intimacy.
Hnita-Hoeve: halfway between a hall and a club, the rigid movie theater-style seating makes it a bit cramped, but the most familial atmosphere anywhere.
K.fée: great decor, don't get stuck in the bar area if you came for the music, though.
De Werf: small, but thanks to the steep amphitheater-style seating, there are a lot of seats, all having a good view. The sound is generally good and you can buy De Werf CDs in the lobby. I'd go there a lot more often if it wasn't so far away.
Flagey Studio 1: holds about 200 and has gained in warmth over the years. Sit in the very front row and put your ear in the bell of the horn.

Places to think twice about:
PP Café: great programming, questionable comfort, dubious crowd.
Studio Athanor: those already deaf have nothing to fear, otherwise very enjoyable.
Music Village: most expensive club, poor lines of sight, often dead crowd. The paid membership thing.
Flagey Studio 4: holds millions and has gained nothing over the years. The balcony seats aren't worth it (and are must-avoids if you're scared of heights) and the floor seats are anonymous. The side-stage seats can be fun, though.
De Hopper: the free nights are often very noisy, the performance space is cramped, the acoustics surprisingly variable for such a small room. Still, it's De Hopper.

Pascal Schumacher Quartet - Brussels, 20/11/2003

Pascal Schumacher - vib
Jef Neve - p
Christophe Devisscher - b
Teun Verbruggen - d

A few days before going into the studio to record their first CD, the quartet went through a trial run in the d'Imprimerie studio's quite nice lobby/bar/performance space. Attentive readers will remember the previous concert I saw of this group. Here, being a trial run, the mood was a bit different: they had decided to try out short versions of the tunes and were thus able to get through 11 compositions. Results were a bit mixed: the energy never reached the explosive levels I witnessed at the Hopper (then again, I'm not sure how well the acoustically bright room would have supported them), but the ballads, such as Schumacher's "Ancil," benefitted greatly from more concentrated and coherent readings. Because of the shorter lengths, the trademark thunderous climaxes were perhaps rushed and ended up feeling a bit forced and mechanical rather than natural and organic releases.

There were, however, a number of highlights, such as Devisscher's "Goodbye Little Godfather," which opened with Verbruggen playing drums with his fingers and Neve strumming the piano strings, all this so softly that you could also hear him tap his fingers against the top of the piano. I badly needed to cough, but held it in so as not to risk breaking the mood. Then came the concert-ending "When Spring Begins," a happy and dynamic poppish Neve composition, on which, half-way through his solo, Schumacher dropped two of his four mallets into the piano to play fast but highly melodic lines, wonderfully supported by Neve's simple pop/gospelly/bluesy chords. Neve's solo started off with one hand providing the basis for 3-way amusement, with many breaks for bass or drums. Earlier on, on "Pink Coffee," another Neve composition, the pianist showed a bit of his "entertainer" side, standing up in throes of ecstasy, then crashing back down on his bench as the solo ended. To end the first set, the quartet played a very surprising re-arrangement and re-harmonisation of "Summertime" (a warhorse if ever there was one), adding a new motif that continued through much of the arrangement. My hope for the recording sessions and subsequent CD, is that they strike a good balance between those songs that benefitted from the concision displayed tonight (or last night, as it is now very early friday morning) and those that need to be stretched out and blown to bits, energy-wise. It is great fun watching this group play together, as they are all visibly happy to be making music together, and I hope that that spirit can be transferred to tape.

After the first concert, I commented that "Teun Verbruggen refuses to settle into anything for too long," but tonight he was far less jumpy - and it worked just as well. A great pleasure was being able to actually hear Devisscher, as he is an impressive player. You'd never guess he started out in heavy-metal bands!

Jef Neve told me that he was planning to record his second CD in February (the follow-up to the excellent Blue Saga) and mentioned some interesting-sounding experimentation the trio is working on (Jef: have you heard Michel Bisceglia's "Second Breath"? And have you talked with Pierre Van Dormael?). While he's an extremely exciting pianist, his composing skills continue to impress me just as much, as they are tuneful, original and interesting. A short new tune played tonight called "Blues For Mr. S" (I didn't think to ask who Mr. S was) sounded much like a Bad Plus tune, and Jef grudgingly admitted as much. I am extremely curious to hear what he has in store. As I always say: 300 Japanese fans can't be wrong!