James Chance and Les Contortions Gebaude 9 Cologne, Germany February 28, 2013
James Chancestill influential after his role as a catalyst in New York City's seventies-based No Wave movementproved his enduring career amidst the upper creative edges is no novelty act.
Chance and his cohesive backing trio (bassist Jacques Auvergne, guitarist Pierre Fablet and drummer Alex Tual) showed they were just as suited to tasks of timbre and turmoil as their namesakes and more punkish progenitors and brought a rollicking, hundred minute set to an appreciative audience ready to swing hard and low. Chance provided an electrified outlet for the feeling. The small club, in a busy artists' colony of remodeled warehouses, heated to a boil.
The band casually took to the stage without introduction and launched into a short, intense instrumental to conjure the same screeching sax blasts that lit up No New York (Antilles, 1978), the Brian Eno
-produced album which, beside Chance's original Contortions, didn't feature much beyond some interesting generational personalities. Anarchy aside, the album endured as a noteworthy New York City art movement footnote, providing Chance with ongoing marketplace mystique.
Chance presented many of the songs from Incorrigible (Ladft, 2012) to solid response. That often excellent, organ-driven effort is one of his more mainstream projects, but it was this high percentage of impressively delivered old school funk, much in homage to James Brown
At least a quarter of the show paid a highly illuminated tribute to the "Godfather of Soul," including a probably inevitable climactic knee drop and cape effect. "King Heroin" offered murmured, cautionary asides before jumping into "Super Bad." Despite solid jams, they remained songs to evoke Brown's inescapable domain. Maybe that was the point.
"All Depends on the Amount" did not go over as well as introductory anti-Hitler jokes. "The last time I was in Germany they said I'd be arrested if I told them," Chance reported with a grin.
"Respect Yourself," another unexpected cover retro-updated for an industrial approach, was one of the set's weaker moments, but at least the message was positive. You could see many dancers repeat the chorus as they swayed.
Some of the sax solos and an unfortunate amount of enhanced guitar accents, like the scattergun chord slices on "Dislocation," were muffled somewhere between the mix and the building's shadowy elevations. The soundboard did serve up Fablet's eerie, echoing slide quite effectively.
's "Home is where the Hated Is" throbbed with a strung-out desperation Chance said defined him. How autobiographical Chance's song selections are may be his business, but when he testifies with his horn, it's something to see. Despite a bitter edge, Chance's muse is a sensitive siren, a stirring, wheezy breath over your shoulder.
The band hit a powerful stride with "Do the Splurge," the type funky, abstract bebop the Rhineland population loved. Every player got to stretch a little, as revved up exit phrases showed thoughtful composition. Auvergne and Tua maintained the rumbling rhythm of an impending earthquake.
When the hardworking Chance burst into the swarm to display his own footwork on the floor, a minor frenzy ensued.
"Pull the Plug" stalled, but only for an instant before Chance's alto brought it roaring back to life. An effective, tossed salad medley of "It's a Man's, Man's,Man's World" and "I've Got It Bad and That Ain't Good" simmered in a spaced-out, mechanical drone reminiscent of vintage Manhattan east village debauchery.
Too bad Chance didn't perform "Yesterdays," a fine Billie Holiday
Chance, seemingly a natural performer, reflected on his earlier days and his consistent regard for the jazz standard. "Piano was my first instrument,"he said. "I started when I was seven, with nuns at the Catholic school where I went. When I was around 13 I took some lessons with an old guy in a music store who taught me some stride piano and some standards. I had a book of Oscar Peterson