Wolverhampton Arena Theatre
November 14, 2015 Partisans
have now been playing together for two decades, in a completely unchanging four-piece configuration. Bonds have been formed, lines have intertwined, rapport greases repertoire negotiation, and comfort encourages greater risk-taking. The band made several comments about savouring the Arena Theatre's vibrations, and well they should, given that its acoustics are paramount, imbued with a softly glowing warmth and closeness. The auditorium size is also just right for an intimate encounter, but for some inexplicable reason the audience count was very much lower than usual for this regular Wolverhampton jazz series. This didn't inhibit Partisans, or divert them from delivering a prime pair of sets, abundant in energy, precision and potency.
The band have built up a substantial catalogue over the years, the evening's repertoire dipping into different albums, from freshly composed numbers right back to long-silenced oldies. The exchanges between reedsman Julian Siegel
and guitarist Phil Robson
provide the melodic dance, and the majority of the dynamic solos, but electric bassist Thad Kelly
frequently spills lines that can't be forgotten, his aggressive amplifier tones pushing them out from the heart of the storm. Meanwhile, drummer Gene Calderazzo
was in a sustained state of hyper-arousal, never letting up in his manic driving, keeping the momentum at full-force whilst continually embellishing with staccato bursts, rotary thundering and general targeted clatter. He played like this was going to be his final statement, his last word on the power of percussion.
They jumped straight out of the traps from the outset, with the rampantly overcharged "Flip The Sneck" finding Robson gratifyingly turning on the scuzz switch to sully his sound. His guitar is meaner when in this mode, as opposed to the softer John Abercrombie dapple-setting he alternatively employs. This is part of the crafty tactics used to alter the Partisans attack velocity, switching between studied calm and ripped-out fracas. Your scribe hasn't noticed such a thing before, but this combo frequently deal out frissons of Miles Davis, from his various stylistic eras, mostly the fusion periods of the early 1970s or '80s, but also with an atypical melodic throwback to his classic "All Blues." It's not clear whether these are deliberate references or subliminal obsessions. Whichever way, they provide an appealing touch, without being overly dominant.
Robson announces that Siegel is "just about to don the goose, as we call it," meaning his bass clarinet. Your scribe has never previously pondered this similarity, but now that image is graven into his temples, particularly suggesting the curve of the beer-pump for a Goose Island brew. This was the fastest change ever, for within moments Siegel was back on the tenor saxophone again. Such is his rich armoury of reeds, all resonantly played, with seethingly circuitous solos. Close to the end, Partisans paid tribute to "that great mouse," Mickey, with their tune entitled simply "Mickey," Siegel getting into a creamy tenor statement, spaciously backed by his three cohorts. An audience member had cried out for "Last Chance," a less-aired number from back in 2005, so the band had clearly reminded themselves how it went during the intermission, rolling forcefully into their encore, with a running clash between goose and guitar, suggesting fuzz bass and grunge-ing organ respectively, in their tonal qualities. Ultimately, Miles Davis was crushed under the Soft Machine!
Dave Moorwood's Rascals Of Rhythm
Solihull British Legion
November 15, 2015
The Rascals Of Rhythm rummage deeply into the vintage jazz repertoire, uncovering ancient chestnuts that are hardly ever heard on the traditional jazz club circuit. Most of their selections are from the 1920s and '30s, some even earlier, and their choices are often not the most likely, or even if they are, the arrangement might be based around the tune-version from a less obvious interpreter. Guitarist Dave Moorwood is a focused leader, intent on his own peculiar perspective, invariably dropping in an explanatory nugget or two in his introductions. The Rascals Of Rhythm don't actually have a drummer in their ranks, which is highly unusual for a band of this type. Consequently, Moorwood's bullish strumming acts as the propellant force (rather than the somewhat quieter bass), his sound shorn of any mellow reverb, clipped and dry, emphasising the curt qualities of his hard-worn strings. It's an exciting change in tone from what's often expected, providing an edge of excitement to the proceedings. Moorwood doesn't take many solos, leaving most of the out-front action to his twinned reedsmen, Mike Wills and Tony Blincowe.
The Rascals opened with "Copenhagen" (after Bix Beiderbecke
), followed by "Take Me To That Land Of Jazz" (from way back in 1919), with Moorwood offering one of his occasional vocals, the pianist actually sitting on his amplifier, spending much of the first set trying to balance himself within the spread. It's not just the old American numbers that are fodder for this combo, as they threw in Humphrey Lyttelton
's "Mezz's Tune." This was chased by "A Sailboat In The Moonlight," one of the least traversed tunes in Billie Holiday
's book, although Moorwood was also casting his glance over Ruby Braff
's reading. Wills stuck with his curved soprano for the majority of the tunes, but brought out his tenor for this one. He returned to soprano for "Big House Blues," a fairly obscure Duke Ellington
ditty. This featured paired sopranos, one straight, the other curled, exchanging sinuously intertwining lines. Then the reeders doubled on clarinets for "Eccentric," traipsing into sudden stops and starts.
A highlight of the second set was "Boiled Owl," penned by Marty Grosz
, a song that can spar with the works of Slim Gaillard
or Screamin' Jay Hawkins
in the arena of the ridiculous. Unusual selections from Louis Armstrong
("Once In A While") and Sidney Bechet
("Passport To Paradise") followed, the latter making a stately parade, the Rascals managing to coax more than the usual number of dancers onto the floor. Apparently, the band always finishes with Duke's "Ring Them Bells." We're not sure why, but it did make for a suitably romping conclusion.
November 17, 2015