December 2000

Notes from
Down Under
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By Shane Nichols

THIS MONTH: Highlights of the Wangaratta jazz festival, new discs, what Zawinul said about Madonna, and Australia’s drumming phenomenon.

NEW DISCS:

After a gentle hibernation over winter – well, most things shut up while the Olympics took centre stage – the Rufus label (rufusrecords@one.net.au) has returned with a broadside of heavy calibre: Ten Part Invention’s new disc, Unidentified Spaces, altoist Andrew Robson’s Sun Man and pianist Alister Spence’s Three Is A Circle. Here’s what I said in the Australian Financial Review (see www.afr.com) about Ten Part and Spence’s discs:

Unidentified Spaces by Ten Part Invention (Rufus)

Among the elite jazz ensembles in this country, Ten Part Invention holds a special place. To maintain a unit as large as this - 10 pieces, only outdone at this level by the Australian Art Orchestra’s 20 or so members - testifies to the tenacity of the group as well as the quality of the music. Those years have seen TPI build a repertoire of dozens of original tunes, and a handful of important CDs. Once again the miracle here is how the diversity of writers and their material - Mike Bukovsky, Sandy Evans, Col Loughnan and Bob Bertles - somehow coheres in TPI’s hands. The firepower of talent and depth of instrumentation means the band can go just about anywhere - from Bertles’ roaring big band workout on the fast and thrilling Blues for Clancye, the muted, mournful North Pole, the jaunty side show of Queensland (both from Evans’s four-part suite Unidentified Spaces), to Bukovsky’s stately opening harmonies on Folk Song and the native instruments setting the scene for The Strongest Man in Indonesia. There’s a strong sense of purpose behind TPI and it’s not surprising its results are so forthright.

Three Is a Circle by Alister Spencer Trio (Rufus)

Though this is the debut album by this trio, it comes fully mature. These players are among most respected in the local ranks, having played with just about everyone but most notably the esteemed Clarion Fracture Zone in which they are the rhythm section. In one line-up or another they have been companions for years, and as Spence notes, this album has been a long time coming. Nominally Spence’s outfit, the others — bassist Lloyd Swanton and drummer Toby Hall – have their stamp all over this music, inevitably so. Spence’s inclination is to run close to his melodies rather than obliquely; in places his playing quite funky and nearly always melodically direct. The band grooves in a way that feels open but tight at the same time – the Americans call it laying in the cut and this trio have learned that art. Where they do stretch out it’s with satisfying assurance – the slow, perfectly distilled ballad There’s A Change, the dark and shifting Black Wattle so evocative of its inspiration, the late avantist Roger Frampton. It’s fitting that Spence has his own album at last; the quality of this one was never going to be an issue.

On early listenings, Andrew Robson’s album is a striking project. He has arrived as a player, consolidating on the promise of his first album (Scrum, for the Rufus label) a couple of years ago. The authority of his playing is now a given, and he possesses a gravity and seriousness that portend a great deal for the future, while delivering plenty in the here and now.

Never afraid of a deadline, Melbourne-based jazz pianist, bandleader, and composer Paul Grabowsky was still working on the music for the closing ceremony of the Paralympics while the Games were building to their climax. It’s been a typically busy time for the composer -- his latest trio album was released on Origin, and his latest film score, Shiner, is due for release early on 2001.

This film, directed by John Irvin (Noah’s Ark, Tinker Tailor, Soldier, Spy) stars Michael Caine and Martin Landau and looks at the world of illegal fistfights. Graboswky’s manager, Dennis Muirhead, says the head of Sony Clasical in New York called the soundtrack one of the best he’s heard in years -- which has some credibility, given Grabowsky’s scintillating, jazzy scores for a bundle of films and TV shows, many of them picking up awards. Muirhead says Grabowsky will “inevitably” have to move offshore to take advantage of growing opportunities as a film composer. Paul now has a top agent, Maggie Radford, who has offices in London and LA. One of the first jobs she won him was a commission from Disney for a tune for Jungle Book II, for which Paul wrote the music and doyen music critic Leonard Feather’s daughter wrote the lyrics.

Tenor saxophonist Branford Marsalis is the likely headline act for the Melbourne Jazz Festival in the new year. Festival organiser Adrian Jackson hinted heavily that the Marsalis minion would be touring Australia in the New Year and hence could easily be confirmed as the festival top biller. Marsalis is touring with Jeff “Tain” Watts (drums), Joey Calderazzo (piano) and Eric Revis (bass). One his engagements will be the Sydney Opera House’s concert hall on January 25, one of the highlights of the Sydney Festival (a multi-disciplinary arts festival with a small jazz component). Given his stature and the lack of competition within the Sydney Festival line-up, Marsalis shouldn’t have any trouble filling the hall.

Wangaratta Jazz Festival

Australia’s biggest jazz festival, Wangaratta, concluded its 11th iteration in fine form apart from a little controversy to do with guitarists and awards. It was like this. As I mentioned in last month’s column, the National Jazz Awards are a major part of both the festival and the nation’s jazz calendar. They carry a lot of weight as far as an artist’s reputation goes, backed up with actual money and recording sponsorship. Out of a daunting and formidable field that was always going to be a judges’ nightmare, there was one player – James Muller – who carried his axe with just a bit of an advantage. Only days before the festival shoot-out, Muller picked up the nation’s top award, an ARIA (Australian Recording Industry Association), in the jazz category of the best albums of the year (for his “All Out” debut on the ABC label – see Notes from Down Under, April 2000.)

The ABC’s music division were understandably over the moon about it, as making jazz records – no matter how good -- basically out of taxpayers’ money is hardly a lay down misere in these days of continual bottom line scrutiny and commercial virtue. I was pleased, too, not only for Muller but quietly vindicated in my choice of his album as one of the three best jazz albums of ’99.

Anyway, Muller was, not surprisingly, in the final heat of the national jazz awards at Wangaratta, up against Stephen Magnusson and Carl Dewhirst. Though I have heard him play consistently better than he did here, I thought Muller did just enough to claim the grand prize – his concept, more akin to a horn player’s, is in another league to his brethren guitarists and he is destined for big things. (New York beckons and I hear the 26-year-old had plans for the prize money in that direction). Dewhirst’s last solo out of his allotted three tunes was about the best of anybody’s and I would have placed him a clear second. But in an unprecedented move, and after a lengthy wait and much backroom deliberation, the judges announced that Muller and Magnusson would share the prize, while Dewhirst would get second place (second, but kind of third – I was right and wrong about Carl). A strange turn of events, if you ask me . . .

The festival itself was a huge success – artistically anyway, I don’t know about receipts and the like. The Joe Zawinul Syndicate kicked it off on the Friday (early November, and running for four days). They had to leave almost instantly – for Montreal I believe – and that left the top billing to a couple of other foreign stars, chiefly bassist Mark Helias’ Open Loose trio and UK singer Claire Martin. The latter’s wide commercial appeal and winning stage presence made her shows huge crowd pleasers. Helias, though, was the real thing. His trio – Tony Malaby (tenor) and Gerald Cleaver (drums) – astounded and satisfied jazz audiences with an original and fresh approach to improvisation and ensemble playing. Helias’ wittily named tunes – Handycam, Looking Up From Heaven, Pick ‘n Roll, to name a few – have a fascinating way of starting out as seemingly free jazz and then steadily cohering, amorphous gases turning into a solar system, so that the pieces conclude as tightly written, probing and disciplined jazz, sometimes with the suggested tonality and martial unity of a brass band.

A further blessing came when Helias’s trio was joined by local players altoist David Ades, trumpeter Scott Tinkler and trombonist James Greening. This line-up played on two occasions and the results were deeply satisfying. Helias’ beautifully controlled writing and the empathy between all the players saw them give of their best. David Ades’ solo on Gentle Ben was one of the highlights of the festival, as was this band overall. Check Helias out on www.markhelias.com

Joe Zawinul

I missed Zawinul at Wangaratta but had a chance to see him at an earlier gig at Sydney’s Basement.

He did a four night stint down by the harbour, which in jazz terms amounts to a season. It was a first class demonstration of this type of music. I remember when Weather Report first came to Sydney, some decades ago, and the effect it had on musicians who flocked to see their heroes (it was the Pastorius era). I don’t doubt much of the audience on the first night were repeat visitors during the rest of the week, as jazz rock of this level is simply a rarity and not to be missed.

In the band were his long-time percussionist Manolo Badrena and Amit Chatterjee (ex Santana, Sting) contributed what sounded like Indian Sub-continent influenced vocals, with similarly inflected (at times) guitar work. Nathaniel Townsley was on drums and the redoubtable Victor Bailey played bass (“He went off to play with Madonna a while ago,” said Zawinul, “but now he’s back playing music.”)

Zawinul seemed to enjoy himself, declaring that the band were inspired to “try a few things out”. There were sustained passages where it seemed anything might happen, really genuine excitement and anticipation.

Zawinul is a very direct communicator. His keyboard lines are highly vocal and human-like in structure, cadence and other patterns, like speech fragments, abetted by the tweaking and manipulation he can carry out at his workstation. On top of that he sings in tongues which are on top of those spoken through his keyboards. As others in the band, particularly Chatterjee contribute vocals of this sort, there are occasions when the real vocals are simply another spoken thread in the tableau. No wonder it’s effective. Underneath that is a deadly rhythm outfit that fans the flames while Zawinul is free to get up to his tricks. They can, and do, follow him anywhere.

Speaking of virtuosity, this column’s artist profile is an Australian drummer who may just as well have the word inscribed on his passport. His name is David Jones and for a quick and highly worthwhile catch-up, go to www.davidjonesdrums.com.au)

ARTIST PROFILE: DAVID JONES – DRUMMER OF DRAMA

It’s a long way back to the time when the jazz drummer was front and centre stage. Ever since Buddy Rich saw Sinatra grab the spotlight away, even the most extraordinary drummer has had to content himself with being hidden in the ranks. And yet watching a good drummer is surely one of the most naturally visual pleasures of musical performance – there can be so much going on, or, equally dramatically, very little as a contrast to the potential sheer din and spectacle of the drumset.

David Jones wants to put the drums back in the limelight. Close to his heart is a long-term project, incorporating dancers as well as musicians, which will feature the drums as a “lead” instrument (see his references to the Drum Project on his website). Of just about any drummer you can think of, Jones is more than qualified for this type of challenge. Possessing flawless and towering technique, Jones is the drummer of choice for band leaders who want the best – James Morrison, no less, has Jones in his current band, and the drummer’s CV is a vast list of live and recorded credits with big names from locally and abroad (he’s now in his early 40s).

Technique, however, is one thing – and a potentially vacuous thing if allowed to dominate musicianship. Jones’ metier is live performance, the personal interaction with an audience in which his musicianship, not just as a drummer but as band member, draws audiences inside his circle of disarming friendliness and outsized musical showmanship. Laden with a motley collection of percussion instruments – many of them objets trouves that are being radically redeployed – he involves and entertains his audiences in brilliant displays of percussion. For him, it’s all about a group thing, including the audience, and so it’s all about playing live – something which underscores the nature of his new double album, Intuition (DJD 001).

The disc is merely a representation of the David Jones Trio in typical performance, which in fact is how it was recorded – the trio simply invited a bunch of friends into the studio and got down to playing one of its typical gigs. Besides Jones’ flamboyant and artful playing there is beautiful, dazzlingly skilful work by electric bassist Evripides Evripidou, who creates billowing clouds and washes of sounds from his effects pedals, and keyboards player Bob Sedergreen, a vastly experienced player whose piano and synthesiser skills at times are the band’s cutting edge.

This is really a supergroup but you’d never meet a more honest, modest, good-humoured bunch of players, the band itself a reflection of David Jones’ personal positivity and spiritual expression. To understand why his band and music are like they are, you need to understand David Jones.

Here’s how Bob Sedergreen, in the liner notes to the Intuition album, remembers meeting the remarkable Jones:

“I first encountered David Jones on a cold winter’s night in Melbourne’s famous home of free improvisation, the Commune, circa 1980. He was warming himself beside the fireplace, just itching to play, and smiling a mischievous knowing and perhaps too confident a smile. Wanting to unsettle him a trifle, I stood over him, and said menacingly, ‘Listen kid, you’re going into the fire.’

Within an instant, a quiet yet firm voice said, ‘No! No!, you’re going into the fire.’ To add insult to injury his demeanour remained unaltered.

‘OK,’ I said (lifting him off the floor as one would pick up a bride), ‘you’re going into the fire.’

His response was to look down at me and laugh, as though he had been picked up and taken for a ride by a friendly bear (which I was ).

Just before we commenced the first set he pointed a drumstick at me and said, ‘You’re going into the fire.’

‘You’ll find out soon enough,’ I replied, determined to hand him out a music lesson. It was as exhaustive a first set as I have ever played. It was me who found I had encountered a special and talented kindred spirit.”

INTERVIEW WITH DAVID JONES:

Shane Nichols: At your gigs, like last night’s at the Side On Café (www.side-on.com.au) , the band radiates great warmth and you really get the audience involved. Is that something you always try to do?

David Jones: Yes, it’s a conscious decision to involve the audience but it’s also I’m very aware of the palette not only of sounds but the palette of emotions that are available to us in the expression of music. And music is very much a reflection of life and one’s own personal balance in life too. So if someone is a very solemn person then that’s very valid, that’s going to be their chief expression. But generally I’m a pretty cheerful chap.

SN Yes. I’ve never seen anyone smile so much when they play. Are you aware of doing that?

DJ Oh yes. But it’s almost as if sometimes I might have to temper it the other way, because I feel like I’m bursting out of my skin so much; I might feel so….joyful … that it might be inappropriate at the time. Especially playing that type of improvisation – that is the most joyous time of my life, apart from very deep states of meditation. The peace and happiness, to put it simply, is where it’s at. Both are powerful states, I believe. And once someone’s set up a peaceful state, joy naturally arises out of that. The most powerful expression to me is actually music, and then it naturally becomes a joyful thing. And to have other people involved takes it to heights I don’t experience in anything else. And I guess it’s also that thing of community spirit – I think in music we can quickly build bridges rather than burn them. Some ways of playing, particularly in jazz, can be burning. For the sake of it. It can be valid, or theatrical, but I don’t want to do that. For me it doesn’t work.

SN: You don’t want to make angry music?

DJ: I did some of that in the early days. But it’s coming back to the conversational thing, and I think it was BB King who said you don’t want to be shouting at people all the time. I mean, you might WANT TO MAKE A BIG STATEMENT! and say something angry for an effect, to wake them up or something. So there’s that validity in all that. But in my conversation I like to connect and, hopefully, listen too. Of course when you have lots of people talking at the same time there can be crosscurrents but within that there can be harmony. You have to be listening to one another as you play. It can be risky, especially involving the audience, but it’s a lot of fun.

SN: You very easily get people involved in your performance. We’ve all seen rock bands and others desperately trying to get people to this, as if it’s Step 5 in the manual on how to perform. How do you manage that so easily?

DJ: Well, I think it’s more of an invitation. There is a lot of rock’n roll in me as well and I do love that thing of getting a group feeling with the audience, the feeling of the people co-creating with you. But I think with the rock’n roll tradition you’re right, it becomes just a fad of a thing to do. But we’re playing with it a bit more now; the cues are changing, and we’re asking the audience what do THEY want. Putting it back to the audience in terms of their expectations or desires, it can be very interesting what comes out, especially when people feel light enough or empowered enough to say something.

At the start we take 10 or 15 minutes to introduce ourselves and the vibe is very comfortable. I would say that’s very important. I get up and just have a chat with them. And then I’ll get Bob [Sedergreen, the big, avuncular – and brilliant - pianist] to say hello and he’s usually just hilarious. And it’s always different; he’ll tell some story or …outrageous! And then Evri, who’s very sensitive, he’ll come up and talk about “surrender” or something! . . . “the freedom of music”! He’s very deep thinking in the Greek tradition . . .

SN: How long have you had this band together?

DJ: It’s only about a year. It’s the first time I’ve put my own name on a band. The original idea was to have myself and different sets of players in the trio for every gig, so it would be purely improvisation and people would know that. But I’d wanted to play with Evri for such a long time. He’s such a phenomenal player and more than that a complete musician, he’s really an orchestrator. And we tried something with a classical cellist but he wasn’t comfortable with the idea of improvising live, because he was into repertory and being incredibly prepared etc – and that’s another side of it, and I completely respect that. But I’d already booked Bennetts Lane [the Melbourne venue] for that trio, so the immediate thing I thought of was Bob Sedergreen, someone I knew could improvise the whole night. My connection with Bobby is very strong, going back to a couple of years in the Brian Brown quartet and before that back to the old Commune in Melbourne, which was just an old shopfront.

So we got together at Bob’s place, and he was playing acoustic piano – a beautiful piano at home – again playing so soft to match the room. And we got about 20 minutes into it, and there were all these lovely melodies and all these folk-like things coming out, and changes, and we hadn’t said a WORD about what we were going to play before we started, just straight improvisation and Bob is so into that. And all of a sudden Bobby just stopped and we’re still playing. “No, I can’t do this. Sorry, no, if it’s going to be this good it has to be this good on the gig and I can’t keep doing it.”

And we’re still playing and I just said: “BOB – KEEP GOING.” And we went to the conclusion of the music and it’s all on tape, the wonderful moment when Bob’s going ‘Oh no it’s too good for a rehearsal’. That was just the scene of bonding, if you like like. The first real gig we played, it was like we’d been playing for years.”

Shane Nichols is a senior journalist at the Australian Financial Review in Sydney, Australia. Among other things he reviews jazz CDs each week for the paper's Weekend Edition where he is a section deputy editor. As well as being a journalist, in his past Nichols played saxophone in rock bands and has studied improvisation in Sydney and at Alan De Silva's school, IACP, in Paris. He has written about rock and jazz extensively for Australian newspapers and magazines, including Rolling Stone.