Published since 2007
Writer, musician, nomad, student, thinker, youth worker, couchsurfer, photographer, filmmaker, activist...
The 33rd North Sea Jazz Festival was a showcase of epic proportions. 15 different stages in the Ahoy Centre played host to 200 artists; venues varied in size from large concert halls like the Amazon, Darling and Hudson to smaller, more intimate spaces and cavernous stadiumesque acoustic settings. With so much talent and variety on offer, it was very difficult deciding what to see: intriguing as it was to scout out obscure names on small stages, the lure of the jazz A-List often proved a little too tempting.
A festival day typically ran from between 4-5 pm until around 2 am, with an earlier start and finish on Sunday. Perhaps one improvement would be to have fewer performance spaces and always begin a little earlier, thus lessening the potential for agenda clashes and needing to leave gigs early. Nevertheless, the event was a sublime feat of organisational professionalism. Nearly everything ran on timea trait almost unheard of in the jazz worldand, with 70,000 visitors over three days, there obviously weren't many other complaints.
The key to drawing such a large attendance was undoubtedly the choice of several blatantly non-jazz headliners for prime slots on the biggest stages: Gnarls Barkley, Paul Simon and Chaka Khan stand as cases in point. However, one can bear no grudges as this pop factor was heavily saturated in the majority of the programme's content. Also, any strategy that can entice mainstream music fans into this metaphorical dark den of underground jazz demons cannot be faultedit was awesome to see so many people at a festival of this nature.
Day 1Friday, July 11
In retrospect, the festival's opening day was a relaxed prelude for things to come. First up was Charles Lloyd and his exciting quartet featuring Jason Moran (piano), Reuben Rogers (bass) and Eric Harland (drums). Now 70, the saxophonist was sporting a snappy ensemble with shaded glasses and his trademark beret. His performance, however, was unexpectedly disjointed: while Moran, Harland and Rogers were very much locked in together, Lloyd's playing was strangely disconnected, almost as if he were operating on a different level from his rhythm section. This disparity could have been due to evident teething problems for the sound crew on the Hudson stageit all seemed much too quiet, with snatches of other gigs drifting in quite audibly.
David S. Ware's performance in the atmospheric Missouri tent was another matter. Despite the music's obviously more open nature, a band consisting of iconic improviser William Parker on bass, impressive drummer Nasheet Waits and guitarist Joe Morris conveyed a greater sense of unity and understandingwith the occasional exception of uncertain contributions (or simple lack thereof) from the slightly confused-looking Morris. Ware's penetrating style was at its most potent, switching from textured, breathy phrases to full-on squawks, screams and extended streams of notes. Casual festival-goers wandering in received a shocking blast of the contemporary avant-garde; many looked rather perplexed, if not equally fascinated, by the raw, edgy tonal quality of this skull-capped elderly gentleman who sat down for the show's entirety. In spite of slightly frail appearances, Ware and Parker remain at the forefront of the free jazz movement. Collaboration with younger players like Waits has clearly given them a new lease of life and opened a fresh streak of creativity.
Next to perform on the same stage was London's Led Bib, a free improv group spearheaded by Zorn disciple Mark Holub. The dynamic quintet of two alto saxophones, organ/piano, drums and bass catalyses an infectious sense of energy which fills the roomas does the manic, twisted punk-jazz freeform fusion sound of the band. Holub's hyperactive drumming is the motor, supported by solid bass work from Liran Donin. This hard base of noise allows the keys player and the saxophones to break out with wild solos, often working in twos or all at once. Most remarkable, however, is the way they can snap back together as a tight unit, in the blink of an eye, after riotous passages of collective improvisation; tunes are typically built around sax-led melodic ideas that act as reference points. Led Bib has a small cult following back in London town and it was great to see the music export so well: a full house of absorbed onlookers emitted frequent shrieks of encouragement. This loud, passionate and unpredictable band will surely turn a few heads at many more festivals in the not-so-distant future.
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