Alexander Hawkins Quartet at the Vortex, London

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Alexander Hawkins Quartet
The Vortex
London, England
January 5, 2010


A very respectable audience braved the cold temperatures (for London where since global warming kicked in it rarely falls below freezing for very long) and further impending snow for the debut of the Alexander Hawkins

Alexander Hawkins
Alexander Hawkins
b.1981
piano
new quartet at the Vortex. Hawkins continues to make waves having in the last month of 2009 enjoyed a successful meeting with Joe McPhee
Joe McPhee
Joe McPhee
b.1939
reeds
and his first New York gigs alongside downtown stalwarts Rob Brown
Rob Brown
Rob Brown
b.1962
saxophone
, Ted Daniel, Harris Eisenstadt and Mark Helias
Mark Helias
Mark Helias

bass, acoustic
.

More accustomed to helming his unique sextet which released the widely acclaimed No Now Is So... (FMR, 2009), the pianist's group tonight was founded on a more conventional instrumentation, again featuring regular associate Dominic Lash on bass, but adding Mark Sanders

Mark Sanders
Mark Sanders
b.1960
on drums, and Shabaka Hutchings on bass clarinet and tenor saxophone, alongside the leader at the Vortex grand. Though the line-up might have changed, the tactics hadn't. Hawkins continued to mine a rich vein from the free jazz seam, mixing classics by Steve Lacy
Steve Lacy
Steve Lacy
1934 - 2004
sax, soprano
, Roscoe Mitchell
Roscoe Mitchell
Roscoe Mitchell
b.1940
reeds
, Dudu Pukwana
Dudu Pukwana
Dudu Pukwana
b.1938
and Ornette Coleman
Ornette Coleman
Ornette Coleman
b.1930
sax, alto
with his own charts over two sets spanning some 90 minutes.

One of the fascinating aspects of Hawkins music is that even though working within compositional frameworks, he nonetheless encompasses the full breadth of contemporary jazz, including gambits more associated with total improvisation. Opening with a sprightly swinging version of Steve Lacy's "Prospectus" it wasn't long until the band took it further out with the leader showing the way with an unfettered two-handed extravaganza, initially pecking then stabbing out reverberating clusters and chords. Hawkins had chosen his partners wisely: they were at home navigating a range of terrain, reveling in Dudu Pukwana's luxuriant ballad "Be My Dear," which boasted particularly graceful and tender melodicisms from Hutching's mellifluous bass clarinet, but also negotiating with aplomb the thorny undergrowth of Roscoe Mitchell's "Chant."

This new quartet proved a splendid vehicle for Hawkins' enthralling piano playing, with several dazzling introductory cadenzas prominent in the first set. His own "Elmoic" was a case in point, starting with such sparse piano that you could easily hear the piano stool squeaking between notes. Soon he was juxtaposing emphatic left hand chords with pealing right hand runs, then stringing his phrases together into elongated streaming lines for a marvelously inventive, kaleidoscopic preface, just pausing, as if for breath, before the bouncy off kilter cadence of the theme. Even then he wasn't finished as he later plotted a fine accompanied solo, keeping the tune going with one hand while hyperkinetic with the other, then with both, but somehow still referencing the melody amongst the commotion.

As good as the first set was it was the second which really piqued the imagination, running together four diverse compositions linked by acapella solos for smoothly managed transitions. While the opening set had been notable for various wonderful Hawkins' excursions at the Steinway, it was the turn of the rest of the band now. They kicked off with a rubato version of Ornette Coleman's "Morning Song" featuring Hutchings' burnished tenor scribbles over dense swirling undercurrents which lifted him up onto his toes repeating sustained cries over churning crescendos.



Gradually the intensity waned to leave Lash a lone voice. Like Hawkins, the bassist grows in stature both as a soloist and integral part of any ensemble with each passing month. His feature here became a key witness in support of that proposal, piloting an almost architectural design. Repeated legato bowing drew a startling wavering drone akin to throat singing from his bull fiddle, sending buzzing harmonic overtones fizzing round the room. As he maintained his deep earth shattering arco, he alternately moved his fingers on and off the fretboard, evincing twin contrasting voices. Finally after a growling pizzicato he resolved the tension with the loping ostinato of his own composition "Second," picked up by first Hawkins and then the rest of the band with a funky swagger.


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