Thursday, January 15, 2004

Dave Holland Quintet and Solo live stream

Listen to it here.

This London Barbican concert was recorded on the 8th of July 2003, and is a nice complement to the recent Extended Play, which was recorded 2 years ago.

The concert starts out with the as-yet-unrecorded (I believe) "Last Minute Man," a kind of riff-blues tune, in 7/4 in which the first beat is nicely obscured. Billy Kilson's back-beat is more restrained than usual, and Dave Holland's awesome more-or-less vamping is as great as ever. Robin Eubanks takes the first solo, sounding as impressively sure-footed and methodical as ever. He's followed by Dave Holland.

Bass solos always get a bad rap, but few take them to the level Holland does. This is because of the quality of his own playing, of course, but also in large part because when Holland takes the lead, Kilson and Steve Nelson put in just as much effort in accompanying him as they do the other soloists. Too often, drummers will lapse into a static, uninspiring pattern during bass solos. Kilson doesn't do this at all. Considering that he is such a boisterous and flamboyant player, it is remarkable just how unhinder he is when playing quietly. At the various Dave Holland concerts I've been to, those bass/drums duet moments have always been major highlights.

The group picks up steam on "Herbacious," the theme of which starts eruptively, then settles into a quieter uptempo swing. Chris Potter takes a soprano solo, progressively building in intensity, and Kilson is right there with him. When Kilson's unaccompanied solo turn, he goes the dramatic route of building up from quiet cyclical tom cascades. Note the ominous rumble on the low tom before the full-kit bashing finale. Kilson's playing is as much a treat visually as aurally. It is a great shame that he has left the Quintet.

Things settle down on "Make Believe," which is from Not For Nothing or Prime Directive. Its slow, very singable melody, trombone counter-point and quiet mallet-on-cymbal washes give it a soothing, reflective quality. Underneath Eubanks's, Potter's (on tenor) and Nelson's brief solos, Holland continues to play extremely melodically, maintaining a very nice unity of mood.

Steve Nelson steps into the spotlight on "Global Citizen," mixing the bluesy, the simple and melodic and the more quizzical in a very satisfying way. He is a discreet accompanist and seems equally discreet a person, but when soloing he can be quite muscular. The last time I saw the Quintet he was in show-stopping form, sweat flying off his brow. The long funk coda to this piece is, as anticipated, a very nice moment, as Eubanks keeps it simple, tossing off one-note riffs and funky licks. At one point, Kilson takes advantage of the slower tempo to pound out 32nd notes on his bass drum, which sends Eubanks into a prolonged one-note stutter, a fun instance of mimetism.

The focus then shifts to two tunes from a solo concert Dave Holland had given a few days prior. On "Three Step Dance," Holland underpins point-perfect melodic flights with a chugging shuffle rhythm. Again, it's amazing how joyous a Dave Holland bass solo performance is. The first time I saw him live was with his Octet at Warwick University (UK) in 2000. A long unaccompanied intro with a folksy bent had me riveted throughout.

"Goodbye Porkpie Hat" is a logical solo bass piece and a fitting transition to the final third of the broadcast. The theme is played beautifully, without soulful or bluesy clichés - a point rammed home when Holland does indulge himself in one (a slap). I have Emerald Tears, his solo album from the 70s, but must admit to not having listened to it yet. Doing so has now vaulted to the top tier of my music-listening priorities.

The stream ends with a long saxophone blowing session on "C Jam Blues" from the album Mingus at Carnegie Hall. To quote host Jez Nelson:

John Handy solos first on tenor then Hamiet Bluiett on baritone, followed by George Adams on tenor. Poor George Adams is then left staring at the sky as Roland Kirk leaves Carnegie Hall through a hole his sax has burned in the roof - the crowd go wild and Mingus keeps on keepin' time, reportedly with a huge smile on his face.

While I think he's being a bit unfair to George Adams, who makes his own quite powerful statement, it has to be said that Kirk's solo is rather extraordinary. I particularly enjoyed the jump from a quote of "A Love Supreme" to a growling Basie riff. Who needs a sampler?