Guelph Jazz Festival: Guelph, Canada, September 7-11, 2011
September 7-11, 2011
As Prez used to say, if you are a good improviser you are able to tell a soulful story. What happens, then, when some of the most experimental improvisers from Canada, Australia, Norway, and England (among the others) are involved in a four-day kermesse, including an all-night long nuit blanche, filled with experimental performances?
The single story, then, becomes a complex, intertwined narrative of individual tales, a patchwork of signatures as mystical as the bass notes of William Parker coupled with the 70-people Element choir, directed by Christine Duncan, or as minimalist as The Necks' 65-minute, stream-of-consciousness, single-piece set.
Such diversity, mixed with the equally heterogeneous nature of the academic colloquium surrounding the jazz performances (this year the multiple panels were dedicated to the theme "Sound Practices: Improvisation, Representation and Intermediality") has made of the Guelph Jazz Festival the 2010 winner of the Premier's Award for Exellence in the Arts. And this year the program was another exciting array of innovative collaborations, such as the Paul Pimley, William Parker and Gerry Hemingway trio, and established, all-Canadian formations, like Marianne Trudel's Septet, bringing together musicians from Ontario, British Columbia and Quebec for a musical project composed by Trudel herself in honor of her friends and colleagues.
Following the path traced by composer and musician Steve Lacy, The Renta young, enthusiastic jazz band from Ontario, featuring soprano saxophonist Kyle Brenders, drummer Nick Fraser, double-bassist Wes Neal, trombonist Scott Thomson and vocalist and dancer Susanna Hoodpresented a series of jazz poetry performances and scat-sung arrangements of Lacy compositions, disclosing once again the naturalness with which certain poems inform compositions such as "A Ring of Bone" and metamorphose through free-flowing vocals into the purely sonic nature of a musical composition.
The harmony of this formation resided in the instinctive ways that Brenders, Thomson and Hood dialogued, almost a cappella, with the subtle rhythmical texture realized by Fraser and Neal. A clear example of such mirroring was evident in the syncopated, half-cut breaths of "Multidimensional," when Blaga Dimitrova's lines ("The world is multidimensional and that gives us headaches. We want it to be monochrome so it can be clear"), sung by Hood with a melodic counterpart by Brenders and Thomson, were heightened by the ironically repetitive tip-tapping accents of both Neal and Fraser.
TiltingNicholas Caloia Quartet
Nicolas Caloia entered onstage, with his bow stemming from a back pocket, almost like a sword. But it was soon clear that the piercing nature of the double-bassist's style stemmed from dexterity rather than violence: it was the capability of passing from a crescendo of pizzicato, exquisitely reinforced by Isaiah Ceccarelli's fast- paced rimshots, to a sad, meditative moment of low, bowed notes, embraced by the metallic whispers of Jean Derome, on woodwinds, and by the essentialist touch of pianist Guillaume Dostaler.
Some of the most interesting passages of the whole set were those centered on instrumental metamorphoses: Ceccarelli started by focusing on the melodic nature of the cymbals, while Derome replied with more percussive riffs on his bass flute. It was clear that these musicians were an open window on Montréal's jazz and especially free improvisational scene grown around the tradition of the Ensemble de Musique Improvisée de Montréal. Discovering and enhancing the least expected sonorities from an instrument represented a key avant-gardist signature which left a sediment of this shared background and history, enriching the most individual vocabulary of the solos with the trace of an established collective matrix.
Paul Pimley, William Parker and Jean Martin
A surprise trio, featuring pianist Paul Pimley, bassist William Parker and drummer Jean Martin. Parker, a Guelph festival aficionado, exploited the possibilities offered by playing his double-bass, at times, with two bows simultaneously, with an esthetic V that extended from his hand, embracing the bridge of his instrument. In the midst of the set the sonic result of such gesture was a meditative, mantra-like series of choruses, their vibrations heightened by the circular movements of his bows.
Martin replied by finger-tapping his snare drum, radicalizing the meditative, ritualistic roots of his percussive role, while at the same time allowing the bass to resonate as the lead voice of this climax. Pimley entererd the transcendent sonic texture of the section by letting his hands caress the piano from within, making it whisper metallic, prayer-like sighs.
Gothic, stormy crescendos distinguished other moments of the trio's free improvisation, but the mastery of such passages, crafted with a spiritual sensitivity, was the real pearl of this mind-blowing set.
Marianne Trudel Septet
Pianist Marianne Trudel showed a flair for sophisticated essentialism combined with elegant rhythm changes, as in "Espoir et autres pouvoirs," where Anne Shaefer's mellow vocals became one with Trudel's main melodic line.
It was evident that, while exploring the compositional potentialities of a septet of musicians who are also close friendsfeaturing, alonmg with Shaefer, trumpeter Lina Alemanno, French hornist Jocelyn Beilleux, trombonist Jean-Olivier Bginm double-bassist Morgan Moore, drummer Robbie KusterTrudel's thoughts gravitated between the phrasings of the early Pat Metheny and the orchestral, symphonic breath of Philip Glass, particularly during the intro to "Souffle."
Every note was in its right place: The vocals of "Et la terre tourne" grew, hand-in-hand, with the subtle sense of dynamics of the brass section, making us grasp, if just for a second, the gigantic shape of our planet, slowly circling around its axis.
Trygve Seim and Andreas Utnem
St. George's Anglican Church, with its wide volutes, welcomed the religious sonorities of this Norwegian duo, whose ECM project, Purcor: Songs for Saxophone and Piano (2010), unveiled its peculiar ability to intertwine jazz and elegy in a unicum of controlled, poetic languor.
A willing reference to Jan Garbarek's tradition of rarefied atmospheres could be heard in Trygve Seim's long-held notes, the saxophonist unafraid of sudden explosions, his signature relying on gradually growing, warm tonalities which showed how an impeccable control of the instrument could be disclosed through a single chord, without any need of baroque excess.
His soft breath, entering the mouth piece, echoed through the church, while Andreas Utnem left his piano to embrace the harmonium, waving an ethereal, minimalist background for Seim's solo in "Responsorium."
The ballad-like quality of the last pieceand in particular its slow piano introcarried references to Keith Jarrett's "My Song," intertwined with halos of psalmic silences and crystallized Northern landscapes.
Christine Duncan and the Element Choir Project with William Parker
Can the Carmina Burana marry avant-garde jazz experimentation? Christine Duncan's Element Choir made it clear that this is not only a possibility, but a truly original accomplishment. In a set with bassist William Parker, drummer Jean Martin, violinist Jesse Zubot, trumpeter Jimmy Lewis, and pipe organist Eric Robertson the choir filled the audience with awe, and revitalized the cinematographic memory (both visual and sonically) of the astronauts in Stanley Kubrick's 1967 film, 2001: A Space Odyssey, facing the black monolith on the surface of the Moon.
The improvisational texture of this 70-voice choir rested on extremely basic conducting gestures, leaving the singers free to embody the Earthly elements through dissonant whispers, sudden shouts and excruciating laments. During the most dramatic sections of the performance, these vocals almost seemed to embody the cries of some damned souls in Dante's Divine Comedy.
If the choir had a powerful, haunting presence with its growing sighs, then Parker's bass interventions, developing around an obsessive, high-pitched crescendo, increased the overall atmosphere of inescapable doom. In the final section of the set, the Lewis' trumpet almost seemed to announce an apocalyptic moment, stressed by Robertson's ghostly organ chords and Martin's fortissimo percussive moment. It was a fully cathartic moment, a postmodern jazz version of some immortal Greek tragedy.
Trevor Watts and Veryan Weston
Growing together as masters of the British free jazz scene in the '70s, this duo disclosed the perfect emotional and performance synchronization of two masters who do not even need the hint of a glimpse to know where they are headed.
Veryan Weston's flair for tip-tapping, hectic rhythmsfocused on the highest keys of his pianofound its twin in Trevor Watts quick and crafty sharp notes, the alto saxophonist using his instrument's keys as if they were micro-drums; exploiting their percussive clicks as an additional enhancement of a series of sudden, squeaky riffs.
From left: Veryan Weston, Trevor Watts
Weston alternated contrapuntal phrasings, following the sax in a mad dance, with a hint of slightly slower variations showing how a sediment of Stravinskian influences has become one with the freest vocabulary of his own trademark.
The naturally flowing aura of the whole performance gave the impression of a joyful conversation between two friends who do not sentimentally remind themselves of the old times, but rather keep laughing and rejoicing about the endless creative possibilities of the here and now.
Lotte Anker, Craig Taborn and Gerald Cleaver
Danish saxophonist Lotte Anker opened the first Saturday evening set by turning her saxophone into a fairy-tale mechanism, producing the soothing sound of a metallic wind. This was nothing but the starter of a set where each of the virtuosic musicians involvedpianist Craig Taborn and drummer Gerald Cleavertransformed their instruments into something different and unexpected.
From left: Craig Taborn, Lotte Anker
Taborn alternated highly atonal poetics with muffled, shrilly suffocated tones, realized by longitudinally caressing the piano strings with his bare hands. Cleaver, on the other hand, alternated his vertical use of the drumstick on his high-hats to the chaotic resonance created by adding a smaller cymbal on his snare drum.
They all shared a futuristic desire to denaturalize their musical tools, removing their sonorities from the most commonly accepted paradigms and filling the performance with surprising sounds, excitingly fit together like the pieces of an exquisite corpse game.
The Australian trio's set featuring pianist Chris Abrahams, bassist Lloyd Swanton and drummer Tony Buckconfirmed its exquisite sense of dynamics as much as its reliance on a Giacomettian minimalism, where jazz is cleared of all its contours and revealed in its most essentialist structural form. The repetition of a single chord or note, with only carefully selected variations, became a long-lasting psychedelic loop aimed at making the audience fall in trance with the monochromatic ocean of sound of the band.
The Necks, from left: Chris Abrahams, Lloyd Swanton, Tony Buck
Similar to Yves Klein's blue series, the choice was so radically essential as to provoke the most extreme emotional reactions. If you were able to lose your own self in these compulsive-obsessive tonalities, the result was a psychedelic state of utter absorption and blissful loss. However, if the desire to remain rooted to the realms of the real and conscious prevailed, your instinctive reaction could have been an almost brutal physical rejection.
A single piece, more than sixty uninterrupted minutes of flowand, for some, an almost healing music therapy.
Henry Threadgill's Zooid
During the inspiring academic colloquium which preceded his performance, Henry Threadgill pointed out how the beauty of his experience with the Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians (AACM)both from an aesthetic perspective and from the point of view of social activismwas due to the craving, of all the musicians involved, to express their souls outside of the expected parameters, by taking all the risks that free improvisation implied.
His compositions, at the very core of the Zooid set at the Guelph Jazz Festival, were imbued of a similar spirit. Notation in his music seems exploited only to set a common idiom which leaves his musicians open to purely improvisational sections and to a sincere expression of their own personal styles.
The very first choice for the evening was a summation of this compositional method. "Extremely Sweet Williams" disclosed a melodic texture, where soft delicacy became one with syncopated, bustling energy. In spite of the fast tempo and complex network created by each instrumental part, the general sensation of Threadgill's creation was that of an uncannily natural sonic unity. Yet, as in a perfectly conceived recipe, each flavor was not only recognizable, but enhanced by the majestic structure within which it was inserted.
The mindful contrapuntal interplay of Stomu Takeshi's bass guitar could therefore be clearly captured in the ensemble, as much as the delicate elegance of Liberty Ellman's guitar. Threadgill's flute resounded like the final touch of a majestically conceived structure. His presence took the shape of rarefied brushes of sound, thoughtfully limited to a minimum of perfect gestures.
In "To Undertake My Corners Open," Jose Davila's syncopated trombone conversed with Elliot Humberto Kavee's subtle rhythmical accents on drums, with perfect symmetry.
Threadgill's presence was that of an amused deus ex machina in "A Day Off," his sax echoing with lighthearted joy and humor, showing the smiling side of a performance whose emotional width was astounding, until the very final note.
Sparks of the Nuit Blanche: Miya Masaoka's Geographies, Didier Petit's North by Northwest Series and Franois Houle's Aerials
Together with the normal jazz festival schedule, Guelph also hosted a nuit Blanche, filled with performances that could satisfy the expectations of the most specialized melomaniac noctambule. Here's a hint of what you could discover, like so many freshmen just arrived in the city for the beginning of the fall term, in the middle of the night.
Miya Masaoka's "Geographies" interlaced electronics, koto and laser koto in a performance that resounded with intermedial poetry. A mix of natural sounds, electronically sampled and reproduced, interlocked with Masaoka's alternatively vigorous and gracious pizzicatos and bowed chords. The additional gestures required by the laser koto, suggesting the mindful corporeal idiom of Tai Chi, visually contributed to the holistic aesthetic of Masaoka's performance. Her solo show revealed the possibilities carried within the dialogue between jazz, technology, soundscape recordings and the creativity of a highly original improviser.
French cellist Didier Petit's "North by Northwest Series" presented the audience with an intimate, meditative solo. Petit sat in the midst of a yoga studio, barefoot, treating his cello like a musical materialization of his own stream of consciousness. The cello was, at times, waved in the air to make its sound resonate even longer. The strings touched, grasped in a sudden pizzicato, smoothly and then aggressively embraced by the bow.
His suite opened a breach into the Mediterranean landscapes of the mind, with vocals hinting at both muezzin prayers and at the Berber Raiss tradition of Francophone North Africa. For a moment, Guelph's maple trees turned into the palms of a desert mirage, with all of their magic.
Francois Houle's "Aerials" enchanted everyone until the very first sparks of dawn. His relationship with the clarinet is one of utter love, mixed with absolute command and never-ending research. His performance unfolded as a deconstructive spell, his breath slowly moving from the fully formed woodwind instrument to the sole mouthpiece. After each section, a piece of the clarinet was carefully removed, but the sound did not lose an inch of its sharp clarity nor of its seductive emotional texture.
The excited concentration of his percussive playing with the clarinet keys mixed with the warmth of long-held notes, as well as with the hypnotizing vibrations of his ascending phrases.
Passing from original compositions to subtle and incisive arrangements of the John Carter and Benny Goodman repertoires, Houle charmed the public with the same researched intensity that he shows in his latest recording with Benoit Delbecq, Because She Hoped (Songlines, 2011).
Creative Collective featuring Kidd Jordan, Joel Futterman, William Parker and Alvin Fielder
By 10:30 am, everyone was wide awake; a few hours of sleep after the nuit blanche was enough. The adrenaline released by such a concentrated intake of jazz kicks was enough to make the eyes spark and the mind wide open.
The Creative Collective
From left: Joel Futterman, William Parker, Alvin Fiedler, Kidd Jordan
Bassist William Parker, tenor saxophonist Kidd Jordan, pianist Joel Futterman and drummer Alvin Fielder embraced the audience with a series of free jazz climaxes, seemingly aimed at the infinite that this art form allows to manifest.
The group's mind-blowing fortissimos, led by Jordan's screaming saxophone riffs, seemed the most emotional and heartfelt expression to honor the overwhelming significance of the concert date: the tenth anniversary of the attacks of September 11, 2001. Instead of a prevailing melancholic feel, however, shaped in a low-toned whirlwind of sorrow, the group's show developed over a soulful sentiment of moral and emotional strength, heightened by fast tempos and loud dynamics. It was a memorable set, on such a significant day.
Page 1, Jean Derome and Alain Derbez: Frank Rubolino
Page 1, William Parker: Aldon Nielsen
Page 2, Marianne Trudel, Trygve Seim: Frank Rubolino
Page 2, Christine Duncan: courtesy of the Guelph Jazz Festival
Page 2, Veryan Weston and Trevor Watts: Aldon Nielsen
Page 3, Craig Taborn and Lotte Anker: Aldon Nielsen
Page 3, The Necks: Aldon Nielsen
Page 3, Henry Threadgill: Frank Rubolino
Page 4, Didier Petit: Frank Rubolino
Page 4, The Creative Collective: courtesy of the Guelph Jazz Festival