Reykjavik Jazz Festival 2004

The good news is a bit of extra energy seems to be infused into everyone after this, including the audience, especially once the plates are cleared and the second set is underway. Her up-tempo cover of Sting's "Every Little Thing (He) Does Is Magic" is a crowd favorite and the highlight comes at the end with a swinging version of "Addicted To Love." More interpretations like that - jazz takes on pop - almost certainly would have made for a stronger outing.

The most whimsical stretch of the festival is unquestionably the subsequent free children's jazz concert at the Reykjavik town hall. Anna Palina Arnadottir is more storyteller than jazz vocalist in this setting, but she has the crucial element of a strong stage presence down pat and gets the kids sitting on the floor up front clapping when they should and listening when she's telling tales. There's the other necessary touches along the way as well, such as pianist Gunnar Gunnarsson donning a punk wig for some role I know nothing about since the whole thing is in Icelandic. About the only thing it doesn't do is offer much hope in winning over the youths to jazz - there isn't much happening with the instrumentalists other than giving Arnadottir the support she needs.

Of course, I'm probably one of the least qualified people in attendance to judge the performance. So for a knowledgeable opinion we turn to Bergthoraosk Elason, 5, of Reykjavik:

"Very nice. It's so lovely," she says, adding the last song, apparently called "Krusilius" is her favorite.

Whew. It's always good to have an expert bail you out.

Actually, scratch that thought, since we've now reached the portion of the festival and/or review where countless readers (ha - I flatter myself) will no doubt be clamoring to set me straight.

"Ladies and gentlemen: Please welcome to Iceland - Van Morrison!"

In some ways this is both the most and least important event of the festival from my perspective. He is, after all, the headline act. I'm also interested in knowing if he's earned legitimate jazz credentials and those spots at various European venues. And it's probably what most of the people attending the festival want to read about - assuming, of course, I agree with them.

On my way to the Laugardalshöll arena I figure there are two options: take extensive notes, work my way afterward through a recently acquired collection of his albums, peruse writings about recent concerts, and try to put it all in some kind of thoughtful context. Or I can just give my overtaxed brain and rear a rest and see what impressions the living legend has on a newbie (meaning he has to earn respect rather than going off his rep). I opt for the latter, figuring no matter how hard I work at the first approach I'm never going to come off among knowledgeable fans as anything other than a ignoramus trying to sound more intelligent than he really is.

So here's the gist: The Van isn't even close to the best act of the day, much less the highlight of the festival. He finishes behind, in descending order of my preference of the day's performers, the Seamus Blake/B3 Trio collaboration (more on them in a bit), the children's concert and some ratty-but-talented old guy performing classic rock tunes for spare change on the main drag I encounter near the Hotel Borg just before catching a cab home for the night. Much as I want to put Stefánsdóttir here, sadly the Van's first-rate production and presentation elevates him above her. If she'd performed a few more standards and/or originals instead of modern pop...

For all you "he-can-do-no-wrong" types, I'm not alone in this assessment. Consider the following blurbs:

"It was something nice to be able to offer his fans."
- A festival-type official whose shall remain nameless out of mercy

"He was in a hurry."
- Another festival performer who delivered a superior (and longer) concert

At the same time, to do the "fair and balanced" thing (can't we stick that in the overused phrases bin yet?), I offer the following:

"Brilliant."
- Attractive blonde employee at the band's hotel who scored a free concert ticket from the Van's sax player

Furthermore, never let it be said I'm not critical of my own. My seat, booked by clicking a banner ad at allaboutjazz.com, is six rows from the back. A lot of others around me seem to be part of the same tour package, including Mr. Anonymous Web Guy across the aisle.

I again wrestle with two choices as I assess the rather lengthy distance to the stage. Part of my brain says sit down and take things in from the viewpoint of the typical anonymous fan, the other is tempted to try to find some event staff and use my so-called press credentials to work my way onto the main floor where I can take some pictures and - gasp - maybe even try to capture a few rare and exclusive words from the Van himself for all the world to see.

The hell with it. This isn't Chick Corea or Pat Metheny. I take my seat.

Positive impressions gleaned from the 90-minute performance:

A) There's no question he's a first-rate blues vocalist.

B) Everything about the show is presented in tip-top professional fashion, from the sound mix to the tonal qualities of all the players. There's two big screen TVs so those in the cheap seats can see things close up and beer at inflated prices for those devastated at being so far from legend.

C) Nobody screws up, at least in a grade-schooler-who-forgets-his-lines kind of way.

D) He scores points by not playing "Brown-Eyed Girl" (although he sends the crowd home with the requisite rousing version of "Gloria").

E) Hopefully all those folks here exclusively to hear him are getting a decent indoctrination into the Scandinavian/global jazz scene as well.

On the other hand:

• It's nice he decorates himself with all those instruments (an alto sax, harmonica and guitar at various points), but he needs to try playing them once in a while. He limits his sax mostly to a heavy growl during the opening and closing vamps, although proves himself capable of more exactly once when he mellows his tone and actually plays a solo during some ballad I don't know the name of.

  
  
  

• I know blues has a typical 12-bar or 16-bar or "ABBA" structure, but how about giving fellow players more than eight bars at a time for solos? The most detailed analysis I can offer of his tenor sax and trumpet players is they have nice fusion tones and may be capable of some pretty good instrumental blues. Big acts may be safer by not taking chances, but there seldom are many rewards.

  
  
  

• What was the point of hyping his so-called experimentation with a big band type of thing (roughly a dozen players - about twice the usual)? Other than a thickly layered blues canvas for the Van's vocals, I could probably count on my thumbs the number of times I saw something probably outside the norm (the only one I remember immediately is eight bars of a mandolin solo by someone who otherwise was largely anonymous).

  
  
  

• Is "This is the first time I've been to Iceland - it's good to be here" really all that needs to be said to the throngs of fans who traveled overseas for the concert? As I understand it the Van doesn't exactly return the love that his fans shower on him, but still...

OK, hosing a big name who could care less what the press says about him isn't a terribly gutsy thing to do - sort of like a hometown newspaper opposing the war in the Congo rather than showing balls on local issues by, for instance, endorsing prostitution to offset the mayor's latest tax cut. But big names who act big generally don't impress me - I'm a huge Metheny fan, for instance, but he mailed it in the last time I paid $50 to see him (and I mean those final few words in more ways than one).

For what it's worth, I'm not even close to the first person out of the arena and I'm pretty sure all those folks weren't squeezed into the Hotel Borg 15 minutes later for the evening's "other" main event, featuring saxophonist Seamus Blake and the B3 Trio. I considered blowing off the performance since I'm tired, have covered the main event, am looking at four more concerts Sunday - and I'm not getting paid to do any of this. In the end duty - and, more important curiosity - wins out.

Good call.

The group doesn't necessary turn in the best performance of the festival, but it ends up being a personal favorite because they crank out a high-energy high-intelligence brand of fusion that I devoted my life to hunting down during college years ago. It sort of felt like the underrepresented portion of the festival, now I'll go home feeling considerably more complete.

Blake is one of those players with an impeccable diamond-hard Brecker-type tone who's able to work everything since Coltrane into a funk-filled canvas. B3 is an organ/guitar/drum trio, a nice departure in tonal color from the norm in this setting and all part of what makes a great "find."

Need these guys are here to have a good time? Consider their opening song is the Blake composition "Fear Of Roaming"

"It's dedicated to my cell phone bill," he tells the audience. "My cell phone works here, but I'm so afraid to make a call because I know it would be s-o-o-o-o expensive."

The composition is your basic up-tempo fusion with a bit of a syncopated beat, but true jazz fans know that's hardly where players harvest their grades. Blake builds early solo tension doing the repetitive phrase thing, lets it out with a few long phrases and then earns his "Get Out Of Radio Jazz Jail Free" card with an extended thesis in rapid phraseology from the bop-to-fusion era.

The B3 players aren't quite on the same plateau. Agnar Már Magnússon turns in the best work, essentially giving the Hammond tone to an straightforward electronic keys solo on "Fear Of Roaming" before doing a more thorough Jimmy Smith-like twisting of sound on subsequent pieces. Guitarist Ásgeir J. Ásgeirsson holds up his end competently and has a nice tone with shades of Metheny/ Scofield/Montgomery to it, but there's a sense he's doing version 1.0 of a Blake performance that's already gone through a few upgrades. Drummer Eric Qvick is the prototypical working man - he's backing numerous bands at this festival - but during this set he's not getting sufficient air time to strut his stuff.

The only letdown of the opening set - all I can stay awake for - is the closing "The Badlands," only because Blake builds it up as a "really ugly" tribute to the seamy side of New York City that visitors never see. I'm not sure what I was expecting - maybe another "Tutu," but it doesn't really do more than offer a slightly dark twist on fairly conventional playing. Without the build-up it'd be a great closer.

So with one day to go I realize I need to start assessing the state of Icelandic jazz, which a handful of people openly mocked when they heard I was coming out here solely for that reason. For the full verdict you'll need to read the final rant to the bitter end, but I offer the following build-your-own-preview kit with the following phrases: "exceeds," "anticipated," "quality," "diversity," "reasonable" and "cost."

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Day 6: The grand finale

I was not grievously wounded, but bruised all over in the most remarkable manner."
- Harry Hardwigg, from Jules Verne's "Journey To The Center Of The Earth," upon conclusion of a journey that begin with a descent into an Icelandic volcano.

The challenges of journalism never cease. In this case a hangover is necessary and I don't drink alcohol.

I figure there's no way to cover the properly cover the final day of the 2004 Reykjavik Jazz Festival sober, since Saturday is a huge party night and anyone going through a series of concerts during a nearly 12-hour stretch Sunday will likely be suffering. Luckily the task proves easier than expected, as a second straight night with almost no sleep due to late-night concerts and pain from an injury to the ribs leave me in a suitably disoriented state.

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Most of the festival crowd likely spends the day packing their bags, as tour packages generally included only two of the event's five days, ending with Saturday's rather pedestrian Van Morrison headline concert. Too bad for them, because the Sunday lineup features a decent collection of largely local performers who in many ways outshine bigger names from previous day.

It starts with the second brunch concert of the weekend led by a female vocalist, in this case Estonian singer Margot Kiis. The room doesn't seem as full as Saturday, but she turns in a better performance. Her bits of scat during a set of standards such as "Can't Help Lovin' 'Dat Man" and "Body and Soul" feel natural instead of contrived, and she possesses the gift of knowing how to make them sound fresh without being overly contemporary. She also gets good interplay with her backing trio of pianist Kjartan Valdemarsson bassist Gunnar Hrafnsson and drummer Eric Qvick.

The next concert is equally rewarding, as a Manhattan Transfer-like vocal quintet leads a set of gospel songs in a jazz setting. It's remarkably free and up-tempo, especially given the church setting, and guitarist Ásgeir Ásgeirsson stands out among the instrumentalists with some fine Wes Montgomery/Lee Ritenour-type playing. Unfortunately, it's also an example of poor festival logistics that have imposed a variety of scheduling and financial hassles during the week. The one-hour performance takes place at a church that is a 10-minute walk from the other two Sunday afternoon concerts (and with 40 mph winds it feels longer than that). It's inevitable listeners have to leave one show early or arrive at another one late (maybe both), an irritation made all the worse by having to buy $15-$25 tickets for all of the performances since they're not part of the festival tour packages most people have.

So my stint at the church is relatively brief, after which I'm back in the hotel ballroom from brunch to hear maybe the most entertaining - if not artistically accomplished - performance of the day. Thora Bjork, a 24-year-old vocalist, leads a student trio through two sets of standards and all of them - Bjork in particular - deliver the rewards (and occasional pitfalls) of the raw and talented in action. Bjork sings with more emotion than nearly any other festival performer and a skill equal to plenty of them, occasionally going a bit too far and loud during more intense moments. It's something the self- described "rocker at heart" should overcome with time; hopefully she'll maintain her emotive qualities at the same time. Guitarist Ragnar Emilsson throws passages of energetic indulgence into his already lively support of Bjork, and goes through studious runs on his own that probably aren't fully appreciated in the sleepy late-afternoon setting. Same goes for bassist Pétur Sigurarson - I'm somehow enjoying his backing, full enough to make the absence of a drummer a moot point, without being able to fully appreciate it.

Sadly, the evening finale isn't quite up to the others (and attending means another pricey ticket and cab ride across town to a different hotel). Guitarist Wolfgang Muthspiel spends the opening 40 minutes of his concert performing solo experimental music that basically consists of overdubbing himself with samplers. A muddled sound canvas is the too-frequent result; at one point he spends 10 minutes playing a Beetles tune he says we should all recognize after a few minutes - but nobody sitting near me figured out what it was. The latter part of the show, where he was joined by the Beefolk fusion group, proves to be a much better effort. Muthspiel concentrates on his playing instead of special effects and makes a decent lead voice for Beefolk, sort of a Rippingtons-meet-world-music group. Their sound is tight, but not overly restrictive, with violinist Klemens Bittman, saxophonist Georg Gratzer and accordion player Christian Bakanic all making decent impressions during their solo time.

And that wraps up the festival. All in all, I'd say it's definitely a worthwhile event with a higher quality brand of Norsk jazz than I might have expected, but there are definite problems potential attendees ought to consider before making plans to attend future shows. The biggest are the logistical and financial pitfalls. Putting all of the shows within walking distance of each other and ensuring there's enough time between them will greatly reduce both cost and frustration. Also, paying for a large number of individual shows after buying separate festival passes starts feeling like a rip-off and makes it hard to appreciate the performances. Selling individual tickets is fine, but a one-pass-buys-all option is sorely needed.

Finally, if there's enough interested participants and space available (their city hall seems ideal), it makes sense to have some sort of central "anchor" place for the festival where attendees can find tickets, information and CDs by the musicians, get questions answered and just in general have a place where they can mingle and feel like festival goers. Right now it feels more like a continuous string of events, or even just a night of bar hopping in a city with a good jazz scene, than an actual festival. Organizers no doubt may have some explanations why the above suggestions won't work, but, hey, it's a wish list...

Coda: Under suspicion of terrorism after going on a puffin hunt

Author's note: This is a very brief and incomplete log of my minimal opportunity to see a few sites, with no real music stuff included. It's included as a "hey, what's the harm" supplement without any expectation people might actually want to read it.

Monday was my day to explore, followed by a pack-and-fly-out day Tuesday. Both days were somewhat less than a total success, thanks in large part to stormy weather with gale-force winds. A drive around the famous "Golden Triangle" set of attractions (geysers, waterfall, something else I missed) resulted mostly in carsickness as my tiny rented compact car was tossed all over the roads, which varied from modern freeways to unmarked gravel surfaces that had me convinced I was lost. The only real site of note was the geysers - and even then I found it rather ironic they had to label them as such since there wasn't much other a small whiff of steam coming from most of them.

Evening was devoted to finding the one Icelandic meal I knew I couldn't get elsewhere: puffin (you know, the old travel joke about going to strange lands, seeing exotic animals and then eating them...). As as former worker in Antarctica who's read endlessly about the likes of Shackleton living off penguins - and described them as horrible - curiosity has me wanting to try one or its nearest equivalent. This seemed like a promising opportunity, but all the places advertising it turn out to be fine dining establishments charging $80 a plate. Even for Europe's most expensive country this is too much to swallow. I wind up in the student section of town ordering a pizza with snails instead - highly recommended over anything Domino's has to offer.

Ideally, departure days are uneventful - pack, fly, be glad you're home - but the weather literally blew that plan away. Gale winds blew me over in the airport parking lot, resulting in severe bleeding/ bruising/cracks to the knee/rib/forehead areas. In the way that minor stuff often occupies your brain at such times, I was mostly irritated about bleeding all over clean clothes I had to wear for my 40 hours of flights and airport waits to Alaska. The fact that a disheaveled-looking guy covered with blood and holding a one-way ticket might have a problem with security never occurred to me until I got there....

So my trip to Iceland didn't exactly end on a complimentary note, unless you count all the sweet things I said to security about them/their country/anything I could think of. I spent much of the flights home with newspapers on my lap to keep the blood stains out of sight.

So now I'm back home with a few dozen new CDs (look for a lengthy set of mini-reviews of them in the near future) and some insight into a new country's music scene. Was it worth it and will I return? Let's just say the best headline I saw upon returning - with the possible exception of the new Batman movie being filmed there ("It's [expletive] cold in Iceland. And they eat whales — they eat anything - puffins!" lead actor Christian Bale exclaimed.) - was Icelandair will begin flights there from San Francisco next spring, so I can bypass New York and all the other stopovers. My next trip (probably with my significant other in tow) will no doubt include volcanos, hot springs, lobsters and plenty of other things I missed that the country is famous for. Also, Greenland is only a short hop away by plane. Hmmm...wonder if they have jazz fests there....

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