Scofield gets up offa his thing

In this Citizen Jazz John Scofield interview, the guitarist comments on jazz and dance (my translation of a translation...):

You know, I like electronic music a lot and I love to make people dance. When I play, whatever the context, I don't think about the kind of public I'm playing for, I try not intellectualise my playing. Perhaps the problem comes from the type of places we play in: you know, in the United States, you play jazz in "serious" jazz clubs and people come to hear you play jazz; when you play in groove clubs without chairs, where lights are low, people are stoned and they dance (laughs). Maybe we should think about that!

Now, I see that dance music has gotten rid of an important part of what makes playing jazz pleasurable, namely harmony. But this is nothing new: people like James Brown discovered this incredibly hypnotic groove thing, that form of trance that Miles was also a master of, and if you overload the harmony you'll lose the physical pleasure. As far as I am concerned, I do miss it and I noticed that, when I improvise in those musical contexts, I try to add the harmony "on top of" the trance!

Get up offa that thing!

A few days ago I received a CD called "@70s: A Tribute to the Jazz of the 70s." At the bottom of the accompanying press release, it is written (in French):

Practically all tracks can be danced to

This got me thinking about how the three ways in which the dance element seems to have been all but eliminated from jazz:

1. In the music itself, generally speaking, as tempos have sped up, rhythms have became more disjointed and melodies more abstract.
2. Jazz was increasingly percieved as "high art" or "intellectual music" from bebop on, relegating easier, more danceable forms appearing after the Swing Era to footnotes in the history books. Critics seem to take the approach that only the Music That Will Stand The Test Of Time is worthy, allowing them to disregard the more ephemeral, rapidly regenerating fusions of jazz with the dance beats of the day.
3. The disappearance of dancefloors in clubs and at festivals.

I don't know how instructive their point of view is, but Jazz Hot regularly has "Jazz and Dance" features. However, of the ones I've seen, they only cover tap-dancing (a minority sport, by their own admission) and swing dancing (featuring people in ridiculously retro, ridiculous retro and just plain ridiculous clothes). So, essentially (and even if tap-dancing has continued to evolve), they are harking back to when jazz was acknowledged as a dance music, i.e. the Swing Era, implying that dancing to jazz is a thing of the past.

To come back to the CD in question, while I tend to prefer the scrappy side of 70s fusion, the more polished fusion presented here is actually fairly successful in fulfilling its stated goal: the vamp underpinning the saxophone solo on Wayne Shorter's "Elegant People" is, with a little tweaking, a hip-hop hit waiting to happen (maybe it has already happened), "Hang Up Your Hang Ups" is a nice funk work-out and even the bubble-bath-and-candles slinkiness of Hancock's "Butterfly" is without excess schmaltz.

Moving on to the 90s, in Europe the jazz-meets-dancefloor music got named electro-jazz. Again, controversy struck as people like St. Germain, NoJazz, Llorca and Erik Truffaz in France, Marc Moulin in Belgium or Bugge Wesseltoft in Norway sold boatloads. Slightly more experimental, but still relatively popular, are Norwegians Nils Petter Molvaer and Jaga Jazzist. Americans are following suit, such as Tim Hagans's "Animation/Imagination" project and, in a more soul/funk/hip hop vein, the recent Roy Hargrove "RH Factor."

While some of them really aren't that great (NoJazz and Marc Moulin spring to mind), what the smugly mocking reviews overlooked is that these albums seek to produce one or two dancefloor anthems (St. Germain's "Rose Rouge" and Marc Moulin's "Into the Dark," for example), rather than a sit-down-and-listen-to-me experience. They've taken the place that popular B-3 organ trios and Lou Donaldson boogaloos used to occupy in jukeboxes (and that a group like Soulive is trying to continue).

So, of course, this leads to the question: "So what's the importance of people dancing, or not dancing, to jazz?" For me, its importance is in showing that jazz isn't only about sitting down and teasing out the meaning of harmonic puzzles set up by the musicians (to take one caricature), but that it is also a physical, light-hearted music that can play in the fields of both "low" and "high" art and not care. Also, I think that it gives a better, broader picture of how jazz has remained in the general consciousness than simply saying that jazz ceased to be a popular music (in both senses of the term) after the advent of bebop. Perhaps the impression that one can't just have a good time listening to jazz is one reason why so few people listen to it in the first place.

... overheard ... overheard...

Teun Verbruggen told me last night that the Pascal Schumacher Quartet recording session went extremely well, even saying that he considered that they had given the best interpretation they possibly could of every song. All the more reason to look forward to this album's march release.

Jozef Dumoulin said he might be recording his three piano project early next year. When I interviewed him, he said that it consisted of a classical pianist, a free improv pianist and... him.

Driving back home through incredibly thick fog, Jacky Terrasson playing "Jardin d'Hiver" from his album "Smile" came on the radio. I mention it because for the first time ever, I thought to myself "If I could play piano really well, I would play exactly like that."

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.

CitizenJazz update

Citizen Jazz has been updated. In this issue, I contributed:

A "Brussels Letter" that sums up some of the concert reviews first found here,
A fusion of the two Pascal Schumacher Quartet concert reviews,
Reviews of Michel Bisceglia's "Second Breath" and Flat Earth Society's "The Armstrong Mutations," both very good albums. Amazingly, I do also review non-Belgian albums, this time it's Pachora's "Astereotypical," a fun, partying take on folk music of the Balkans and Middle East.

Just because I didn't write it doesn't mean it ain't good: a John Scofield interview. Oddly enough, the last four musician interviews have been of guitarists.

'Round about Carrefour

When I went to the local Waterloo supermarket on monday, they were playing the Miles/Coltrane version of "'Round About Midnight" from the album of the same name. I was pretty surprised. "Kind of Blue" would not have surprised me in the same way, being such a ubiquitous jazz-for-people-who-don't-like-jazz album. "'Round About Midnight," however, seemed to imply a more concious choice. It may even indicate the existence of life within these big, bland supermarket chains. I worked in one for a thankfully brief time and signs of life were few and far between. I don't blame the workers, though: the job is brain-deadening.

Tord Gustavsen

Ben Ratliff reviews a Tord Gustavsen concert in the NY Times and I am pleased to find that he comes to quite similar conclusions as I did in my own review of the album. We both found drummer Jarle Vespestad particularly interesting, so it was nice to read Ratliff's description of his playing style:

And I found much originality in Jarle Vespestad's drumming.

It was so quiet that at times, with brushes in hands and hands on snare drum, he only tapped the brushes with an index finger rather than lifting his hand up to strike a beat.

At other points he put brushes away entirely and played drums with fingertips alone. All his gestures were radical reductions of the usual drum sounds: instead of hitting the cymbal with a stick, he'd scratch across the top of it; instead of adding fills between beats, he'd leave open space, suggesting grooves with absences.

While Ratliff likes the music (I do too), he winds up asking essentially the same question I did:

But how long can Mr. Gustavsen keep it up? Will the facade crack? Will he be forced to play something faster, more physical? Will a kind of messy reality invade the perfect glass vitrines of his music?

On CD, I found that the concept ended up stifling the music and I think that Gustavsen has a lot of resources as yet untapped, so I look forward to hearing more from him.

UPDATE:
Okay, now that I think about it, maybe this post was only about stroking my ego/flattering my critical insecurities. I'm only human.

On live hip hop

I couldn't resist reading about Ol' Dirty Bastard's current state of affairs. It's been 4 years since his brilliant, totally wacko "Nigga Please" and since then he's turned into an embarassing slapstick saga. So, I read this concert review. It's sad that what used to be his amusing madness has degenerated into a debilitating handicap:

Midway through the first song, ODB finally walked on stage, somehow to little fanfare. Most of the uninitiated crowd ("Is that him? Is that him?") did not even recognize him, and why would they? This was not some grand entrance, but a meek hobbling, steadied at both arms and assisted onto the stage by two handlers.

(...)He was nowhere. His dazed vacant stare had everyone in the crowd scratching, instead of bobbing, their heads. While the other MC's onstage swayed, shook, and pumped fists to the beat, Ol' Dirty just glared around, expressionless and bewildered.

(...)

Toward the end of "Shimmy Shimmy Ya", ODB dropped his mic accidentally. A posse member retrieved it from the stage floor, stifling a giggle as he placed it back into ODB's frail hand.

Here's a general comment that I connected with:

Let's face facts. As inspiring and ferocious as hip-hop can be on record, it can suck live. Unless there's some organic musical accompaniment (the Roots), verbal do-wop interplay amongst several players (Jurassic 5), incredible backup dancers or set design to occupy the eye (Missy), or all-out violence, you're not in for a night to remember.

I've seen The Roots many times and Jurassic 5 once (Missy is probably out of my tax bracket, but I'll take a slick MC Solaar show in its place) and even then, there are problems. But I can't imagine anything more stultifying than canned beats under an over-loud, garbled voice (or the reverse). Which is what you often get at hip hop shows.

Gerry Mulligan - Night Lights

I first heard this album at my parents' house and was completely taken by it: 34 minutes of focused melodicism over gentle bossa nova or light swing. Dating back to 1963, it is to be consumed like a small delicacy. Perfect lullaby listening.

The soloists, apart from Mulligan, are Bob Brookmeyer and Art Farmer. Farmer is sweeter, Brookmeyer gruffer, but both sing throughout the album. Jim Hall is mainly confined to accompaniment, but gets to take a couple of brief solos. Mulligan's renowned arrangement chops are also subtly on display in the warm brass voicings on certain heads. Oddly, is Chopin's "Prelude in E Minor" is re-worked into a bossa. It sounds nice, of course, but I wonder if Chopin would have recognised his composition. The first and last cuts are renditions of last "Night Lights," but the second one is from 1965 and has Mulligan on clarinet, backed by a different jazz combo and a 10-piece string orchestra.

Of particular enjoyment is Mulligan's incredibly light and soft playing in all registers. Picture the size of the baritone saxophone and try to imagine the instrumental control it takes to power such a big horn with (seemingly) so little air.

While an album such as this may seem to some to be too superficial or easy-listening, I find it to be, on the contrary, quite impressive, in a soft-spoken way. "Night Lights" is a complete, self-contained project that works very well as an album.

Miles Davis: analytical essays

Two long and detailled analyses of aspects of Miles Davis's playing:

My Funny Valentine: The Disintegration of the Standard by Luca Bragalini

Code MD: Coded Phrases in the First "Electric Period" by Enrico Merlin

For french-speakers, Franck Bergerot's "Miles Davis: Introduction á l'écoute du Jazz Moderne" is an excellent thematic approach to Miles's playing covering all periods of his career. Having a good Miles collection handy is a necessity, however.

Groovin' to Sandow

Greg Sandow consistently blogs thought-provoking stuff. Today's entry is about rhythm in classical vs. pop & jazz. He says in part:

In classical music, rhythm is analyzed as a structural element of music. To repeat the same rhythms, over and over, is considered very crude. Rhythmic patterns are supposed to change and develop. To understand the rhythm of a piece, it's enough to study a score. (...)

In pop music of the rock era, none of this is true. Rhythm is (among other things) a "groove" -- a way of inflecting rhythmic patterns, so that even simple, repeated rhythms can be changed in ways that make them not simple at all. The drummer in a rock band might push the beat forward, playing always a little bit ahead, while a sax solo might lag sexily behind. Meanwhile the singer (just listen to James Brown!) can dance around the beats, getting ahead of them, playfully falling behind them, and often landing in the cracks between.

I advise you to visit his blog regularly.

K.fée concerts

28/11: Travelling Joni Mitchell
Barbara Wiernik - voc
Michel Hatzigeorgiou - el b
Michel Seba - perc
Bette Cryns - g

I've never seen this band, but I've seen all of its members in various configurations. On one hand I'm fairly curious to hear what this group sounds like and the K.fée is a great club, as described here. On the other hand, not knowing Joni Mitchell at all and the prospect of four concerts in four days (see my brand-new list of concerts on the left) have me thinking hard about whether to go or not.

5/12: Gino Lattuca Quartet
Gino Lattuca - tp, flh
Ivan Paduart - p
Bart De Nolf - b
Mimi Verderame - d

This is a much easier call: no way. Not that the group is bad (expect well-played bebop/hard bop, some standards, some originals, bla bla bla), but overall I will most likely find it bland. Verderame is a drummer I like, but the others put me to sleep.

Mogno Records

Mogno Records have given their website a much-needed re-vamping and updating. This is a small, eclectic Belgian label run by musician Henri Greindl. Their releases over the last few years have ranged from saxophone solos, to piano/drums, saxophone/piano and piano/piano duos, to Brazilian jazz, jazz-pop-fusion and beyond. Unfortunately, the English version of the site is still in the works, I'll let you know when it's up.

Of the Mogno CDs I have, I would recommend:

Apikon-Dia - Andale Dando: a violin-piano-percussion trio that draws on everything from free jazz to contemporary classical and Bill Evans, with a good dose of zaniness.

Barbara Wiernik and Jozef Dumoulin - Eclipse: Ethereal voice/piano duo, sometimes joined by a German saxophonist and an Indian percussionist. Jazz standards, Indian rhythmic exercises, traditional Bulgarian music, original compositions, it's all good.

4 - 4: the jazz-pop-fusion mentioned above. Modern, melodic and relatively easy music. The saxophone-guitar quartet is sometimes augmented by the lyrical trumpet of Bert Joris.

Pierre Van Dormael 404 Quartet - Brussels, 21/11/2003

Pierre Van Dormael - g
Anne Wolf - p
Otti Van Der Werf - el b
Osvaldo Hernandez - perc

Robin Verheyen - ts
Véronique IQ, Kate Maine, Anne-Marie - voc

Pierre Van Dormael is a rare musician. He is of course highly knowledgeable about music and music-making, but is also an idiosyncratic mix of warmth, wisdom, innocence and winking playfulness. He has very few albums as a leader: "L'étendue des extrêmes" (an LP never re-issued on CD) is a guitar-saxophone duo that he describes as an attempt to play over chords while sounding like free jazz, "Djigui," from 1997, is a kora/guitar/bass string trio, that mixes African improvisation (Van Dormael spent 3 years in Senegal) with covers of Bill Withers's "Ain't No Sunshine When She's Gone" and Phil Collins's "Paradise." His masterwork, however, is indisputably 2001's "Vivaces," which presents a global, complete vision of who Pierre Van Dormael is, successfully combining complex poly-rhythms and -meters, dizzying arrangements of the 12 musicians involved and surprisingly catchy and smart melodies. During a marathon interview session, he spoke to me of the healing qualities of the acoustic guitar sound, how it resonates in the air, but also exposed the complex technical foundations of the music found on "Vivaces."

Van Dormael says that most of his groups only played one concert, so as to always keep the music fresh and repetition-free, and the 404 Quartet will probably be no exception. However, he has assembled a regular core of musicians that accompany him from project to project, spanning the best of Belgian jazz musicians, and regularly adding younger musicians such as Robin Verheyen. Friday night at the Studio Athanor, two long-time associates, Anne Wolf and Otti Van Der Werf, are joined by Mexican percussionist Osvaldo Hernandez, whom I've never seen play with Van Dormael before. In fact, the group was the same as one I saw earlier this year, only with drummer Stéphane Galland (of AKA Moon fame) instead of Hernandez.

The concert's first 30 minutes were its most consistently engrossing. Van Dormael became a griot, voice and guitar telling us of a Peugeot 404 leaving for Timbuctoo, a place one never reaches. This was actually based on his own experience of running out of gas in the middle of nowhere in Mali. Then the group played a piece from "Djigui," during which Van Dormael took on the dry, pinched sound of the kora. Wolf laid down deep-pedaled riffs over a light bass-percussion ostinato, creating a thoroughly African, transe-inducing and slightly magical atmosphere. The music shifted gently towards a more complex, "Vivaces"-like construction, but maintained directness of expression through the strong melodic sense which underpins even Van Dormael's trademark harmonically-twisted guitar lines. This huge slab of music ended with a tender song with a more European slant.

Later highlights included Véronique IQ singing a gentle soul/rock ballad in a beautiful, clear, soulful voice. Later, sitting among the crowd, she exchanged African/Islamic-sounding vocalisations with Van Dormael. She usually sings back-up for Starflam, a Belgian hip hop group.

It was also interesting seeing Verheyen, who I mentioned a few posts ago as a rising talent. The 20-year old came on several times. The first time was rather unsatisfying, as he seemed ill-at-ease and out of synch with the other musicians, unable to do anything but run up and down his tenor, spilling out lots of notes but not saying much. When he came back on soprano, he was much better, playing melodically over a quiet, desert-coloured groove. From there, he seemed to have gained confidence, and later played a well-constructed tenor solo which started slow and melodic and logically built up to fast, rhythmic lines. I have yet to see one of Verheyen's own gigs, but I'll be keeping an eye out.

(photo credit: Jos L. Knaepen)

A little comment about last night

I really wanted to mention it but forgot (hey, I posted the review at almost 5AM):

Teun's signature flashy shirt, with its bright blue and multi-coloured straight lines, looked a lot like a Sketch record cover.

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!

Coldplayin' back in town

I'm back home.

The last few days of beautiful Geneva early winter weather convinced me that that area has a great overall climate pattern. I don't know whether or not it has anything to do with the presence of the lake Léman, the Jura or the Alps, but it's great to have hot (but not excessively so), sunny summers and dry, cold winters with a decent amount of snow. Nice, dry, sunny low temperatures really wake you up and energise you.

I got Coldplay's "A Rush of Blood to the Head" for my girlfriend and have been digging it. The music is fairly simple (for example, it only took me, a very poor piano player, 20 minutes to get the basics of a transcription of "The Scientist" I found on the 'net), but has a good deal of character. It's difficult to judge the album as a whole, as some of the songs were already lodged in my head through TV and radio play: ("Politik," "In My Place," "God Put A Smile Upon Your Face," "The Scientist," "Clocks") so the ones I don't know face stiff competition. When you think about it, it's pretty impressive that someone who has never actively sought out your music could know over half of your album quite well. And with that thought, I close be.jazz's excursion into Coldplay.

From our correspondant in Geneva: The fear of discovery

From The Onion: Mom Finds Out About Blog

And the Blogger.com official policy

Thankfully, nothing here on be.jazz is too incriminating... yet.

From our correspondant in Geneva: United Nations International Music Club

My father recently created a band made up of people from various UN organisations and I went to their weekly rehearsal last night.

It was lots of fun watching them put together tunes for a concert they're giving in early december. The pianist is the "artistic director," as he spent 30 years as a full-time professional musician. He briskly organised arrangements and voicings and learned a Dolly Parton tune in one listen. I'd never watched a group rehearsal before, so it was interesting to see him come up with ideas on the fly. Also, when the saxophone section clicked, it was quite a sound, in the narrow room.

Present were 3 female singers, 3 saxophones (alto/flute, tenor, tenor/baritone), two guitars, the afore-mentioned pianist, bass and drums. Even deep within the recesses of seemingly stodgy institutions, there lies musical talent. Fun was had by all and the wine flowed freely.

Time off

I'll be visiting my parents for a week, coming back in the 18th and do not expect to be able to blog during that time.

Try to have fun without me!