With the opening of borders between New Zealand and Australia, it was hoped that improvising musicians could begin touring again. Apart from three returnees and several stragglers who chose to shelter in place, we had not seen an international for fifteen months. Unfortunately, the pandemic reestablished itself in Australia and that window closed within a week of its opening. There was, however, one musician who timed it perfectly and that was saxophonist Andy Sugg.
He flew out of Melbourne just days before another lockdown was announced and we were very pleased that he had slipped the net. Sugg is a gifted saxophonist with broad appeal and there was no better way to break the tour drought. The tour was billed as an album release but the setlist also included earlier compositions and two tasty standards. The album titled Grand & Union was recorded in New York in mid-2019 and released last year. For obvious reasons Sugg was unable to take to the road and certainly not with his New York-based bandmates.
Grand & Union is a rail hub in Brooklyn but it is also a metaphor for the album. ‘A musical intersection where styles and motifs merge before moving somewhere else’. It is an album of diverse stylistic influences but the musicians’ craft a tasteful amalgam from the underlying base metals. In the liner notes, the leader mentions Stravinsky as a prime inspiration and ‘The Rite Stuff’ with its deep propulsive groove is the most overt reference; a stunning piece, which evokes the now without jettisoning the history underpinning it.
Sugg is a particularly coherent improviser who takes a listener along as he tells his ear-catching stories, and his tone is particularly arresting. Warm as toast and seldom straying into the lower registers. On the soulful ‘Ruby Mei’, his sound reminded me of the great melodic improviser, Ernie Watts. Much credit is also due to his New York bandmates who are seasoned musicians all, and who worked as a tight cohesive unit.
His Auckland gig featured a local rhythm section and they also acquitted themselves well. The first set opened with the title track Grand & Union and was followed by Ruby Mei and other tunes from the album, Then came a more expansive offering in several sections. This enabled Sugg and the band to stretch out. This was a gig of highly melodic offerings and as an added treat, the second set featured two popular standards. A musician said to me recently; playing a popular standard to a discriminating audience, means, that you must play it extremely well and you must insert something of yourself into it. They did. The standards were the gorgeous ‘Someday My Prince Will Come (Churchill/Morey) and the much loved ‘In a Sentimental Mood’ (Ellington). The audience shouted their approval, obviously delighted. I have posted a YouTube clip from the Auckland gig.
While each of the local musicians has experience playing with offshore artists, considering how long that has been, they were very much on form. Of particular note was Wellington drummer Mark Lockett. I could hear people commenting enthusiastically about his drumming between numbers. They were right to comment as he pulled one out of the bag that night. He and Sugg go back a long way and the connection was obvious.
The gig took place at Anthology for the CJC Creative Jazz Club on 14 July 2021. I recommend the album and it’s worth checking out Sugg’s earlier album also. To order physical copies, download or stream, visit AndySugg.Bandcamp.com
The album personnel: Andy Sugg/tenor saxophone. Brett Williams/piano & keyboards, Alex Claffy/acoustic & electric bass, Jonathan Barber/drums.
Gig personnel: Andy Sugg/tenor saxophone, Keven Field/piano, Mostyn Cole/acoustic bass, Mark Lockett/drums
JazzLocal32.com is rated as one of the 50 best Jazz Blogs in the world by Feedspot. The author is a professional member of the Jazz Journalists Association, poet & writer. Some of these posts appear on related sites.
The history of music is the history of instrument development and from the earliest of times, musicians have expanded the reach of their instruments. The mother of instruments, Al’ Oud was first documented 3500 years ago, but documenting the development of the drum is a nebulous task. It almost certainly arose in Africa and along the way it has undergone a multitude of modifications. On Wednesday there was another waypoint along the continuum under the forward-looking beats of Stephen Thomas. Thomas is a gifted drummer and percussionist and in his hands, the instrument takes on a new life by transcending the mundane. The gig arose out of his last years Masters recital and the focus was on extended technique; combining physical drum rhythms, electronics via a drum pad, prepared drum heads and samples.
A lot of great live music happened this year but this gig was a favourite. It was danceable, visceral and the deeply rhythmic pulse found its way straight to your heart. As the band played the room radiated an infectious joy and the swaying of the audience amplified it. One by one the feet tapped and the hands moved until no one was left unaffected. Yes, this was music to wash away your cares but underneath that was something of real substance. Latin music that misses its groove is unsatisfying but when it’s done well like this was, it’s simply wonderful. No one in New Zealand could pull this off better than Jonathan Crayford and with co-leader Nathan Haines on board, it was locked down. The final ingredient to this potent tropical brew was master percussionist Miguel Fuentes.
The songbook was a heady fusion of Bebop and Afro-Cuban (or more accurately Afro-Rican as Vidal was from Puerto Rica). When Crayford initially agreed to take the Vidal gig he knew little about Latin music, but a quick phone call to his friend Barney McAll gave him valuable tips. Fast forward to 2018 and it is obvious to anyone who hears him that he absorbed the complexities and rhythms of the music beyond caveat. Although the rhythmic patterns are fixed, for the music to work well it needs something else – a controlled fluidity – the ability to react to the other musicians. Crayford once described it as being a weave which can be tightened and loosened at precise times – without the shape being lost. When you hear the clave patterns skilfully executed and interwoven, the experience is unforgettable.
Many Jazz musicians avoided the flute, believing it to be expressionless, but when Haines blows, it has life, character, and edge. As a horn, it has pride of place in Latin ensembles and Latin lineups are diminished without it. Watching these two feed off each other’s lines or grooves is to attend a masterclass. Many years of collaboration has gifted them an acute situational awareness. An awareness that is now instinctual.
When Marjan stepped up to the microphone, she owned the room from that moment on. Her previous association with the Jazz club had been peripheral, but this gig changed everything. I have sometimes engaged with her about Persian music or Sufi poetry and I have heard her performing in the Kevin Field ‘A List’ band. She is always impressive when she sings, but this was impressive in a different way. It was her first Jazz club gig as a leader and suddenly, here she was delighting a capacity audience, every bit the seasoned professional; exuding an easy-going confidence. It was tempting to think that she had magically transformed herself into this fully formed artist, but her back story offers deeper insights. Marjan is of Persian descent and while this breathes exoticism into her music, it is only a fragment of her story. In truth, she has been a performer for much of her life; an established presence in the world of film, an in-demand voiceover artist, a teacher of music, dance, and drama. She draws on many strengths but on Wednesday they coalesced; a marvellous voice and a formidable stage presence the outcome.
If her choice of a first number was to make a bold statement, then she succeeded admirably. Stepping out from behind the black curtains, accompanied by a shimmering Rhodes, she embarked on her engrossing journey. The first few bars of her ‘Desert Remains’ were straight out of the Sufi Jazz tradition; it was a call for universal tolerance: arising from her belief that music provides a pathway to transcend the banal. Almost imperceptibly, the tune became a love song, settling into new and funky rhythms. This was a nice piece of writing and the rhythmic interplay gave her much to work with. The influences in many of her compositions are generational; Stevie Wonder, Michael Jackson, Brian Wilson and of course her indigenous roots. All of this is filtered through a Jazz lens. Although her approach is modern, she doesn’t shy away from the traditional fare of Jazz singers.
Looking to popular music for new material is not a recent phenomenon for Jazz vocalists. Ella tackled ‘A Tisket a Tasket’, Louis appropriated a multitude of pop songs. The great American songbook is a selection of one-time popular songs. It is what Jazz musicians do; explore, steal and transform. The more diverse the influences the richer the music. When she tackled the lovely Jazz standard ‘Detour Ahead’ (Ellis/Frigo) she owned it completely. That hint of smokey voice, that delicate phrasing; being adventurous while showing deep respect to the composition. It was hard not to think of Norah Jones; an artist who is traditional and modern in equal parts. I would also give her top marks for her set list; the numbers included ‘The look of love’ (Burt Bacharach), ‘God only knows’ (Brian Wilson), ‘I’ll be free’ (Donny Hathaway) and of course her own compositions and one of Kevin Field’s.
Behind the doors of the beautiful Kauri villa, down the long corridor and the wide descending staircase, past the crush of people eagerly awaiting a significant and unique musical event, we edged forward; shuffled by the crowd, finding ourselves in a surprisingly large room; large enough to hold seventy people, a gorgeous warmly lit room with mirrored walls – an old dance studio brought back to life. As we crossed the room Jay Rodriguez greeted us, behind him, Jonathan Crayford shuffled through sheet music; both framed by an elegant grand piano and an array of horns on stands. I had interviewed Rodriguez earlier and had attended his sell out gig at the CJC Creative Jazz Club. There was never any doubt that this night, like the one a few nights earlier would deliver something special.
If ever two musicians were destined to play duo format, it is these two. It is a challenging format as the safety nets are gone; it is deep level communication and frighteningly intimate. It requires deep listening and empathy as much as storytelling; it requires conversational dexterity. This was a night never to be forgotten, a night when great music became sublime. Rodriguez and Crayford have been friends for a long time, meeting up in New York in the late 90’s and forming an instant connection; Rodriguez’ ‘Groove Collective’ and other projects the meeting ground. They refer to each other as musical brothers and their communication during the last three days underscored that.
The first time I saw them together was around eight years ago. The gig stuck in my mind for many reasons, but especially because of one tune; Bob Dylan’s ‘I pity the poor immigrant’. It spoke directly to me as it oozed with humanity. When I interviewed Rodriguez I teased out this a theme; pointing to the set lists, the tunes which cut to the heart of the human condition, tunes communicated with deep empathy. For example, their rendition of Keith Jarrett’s ‘The rich (and the poor)’, Coltrane’s ‘Alabama’. The former, a blues, reminding us that the blues is more than just a musical form. In their hands, it informs us about inequality, discrimination, hurt and hope. The human condition again. The latter, ‘Alabama’, moved me to tears. Jazz lovers know this story, but it has seldom been told so well. The piece is based on the cadences of a Martin Luther King speech, a speech given immediately after four little girls were killed as they worshipped, murdered by an unrepentant KKK. The musicians dived straight into the emotion of this awful tale; the incomprehension and anger, then a plea for humanity, an exhortation to do better, the hope; it was all in there.
He is a multi-reeds and winds player and his command of each instrument is strong. I asked him if he favoured one horn over another or had been tempted to double less? This was prompted by a similar discussion with Bennie Maupin. Maupin’s answer had cut to the point, “It’s mostly about dedication, hard work and five times the amount of practice”. Rodriguez answer was a little different. “Man, I love these instruments, every single one of them, and I couldn’t abandon any of them”. It is impressive to hear an artist sounding so strong and so individualistic on so many instruments; bass clarinet, tenor saxophone, soprano saxophone, flute (he also doubles on alto and baritone saxophone). His bass clarinet is rich and woody with a tone production like John Surman – his tenor can range from low down raspy bluesiness to the light vibrato-less sound of ‘Pres’; and all of this in a clear authentic voice.
During the dance studio gig, their song choices delighted and astonished. For example, Monk’s ‘Epistrophy’, A Puccini aria, Michel Legrand’s ‘You must believe in spring’, McCartney’s ‘Long and winding road’; all in all an improbable and extraordinary journey. The CJC set list included Yusef Lateef’s stunningly beautiful ‘Morning’, Victor Young’s ‘Golden Earrings’ Keith Jarrett’s ‘Rich (and the poor man)’ – from the Dewey Redman/Jarrett/Haden Impulse era, John Coltrane’s ‘Alabama’ and a lovely original by Rodriguez (I think it was titled ‘Your Sound’). Mostyn Cole and Ron Samsom were amazing as well. They are both fine musicians and a good choice for this line-up.
Roger Manins uncoupled the microphone and looked around the club. It was winter outside but you wouldn’t have known it. The windows were steamed up from the heat of a capacity crowd; all eyes were fixed on the stage and the stocky man holding the tenor saxophone. “You know how lucky you are …. right,” Manins asked the audience? A loud cheer went up accompanied by whistles and foot stomping. George Garzone was in town and no one was in any doubt.
Most of the tunes were in long form and most were Garzone originals. All were perfect for the occasion. As you might expect, the Garzone tunes were springboards for deep improvisation; the heads, however, were memorable and so well-arranged that they stood out. I failed to catch all of the titles because the applause often drowned out the announcements. There was a catchy tune referencing Bourbon Street, A moving tribute to his friend Michael Brecker and a tune titled ‘The Mingus that I know’. They all had pithy stories attached. The two standards were Billy Eckstine’s ‘I want to talk about you’ and a wonderful earthy take on John Coltrane’s ‘Impressions’. I read somewhere that Garzone plays like he talks, in a Bostonian/Calabrian dialect. The cadences and rhythms of speech are part of who we are, it is, therefore, logical that they encompass how musicians express themselves and especially on a vocal instrument like the saxophone.
His pick up band were Kevin Field, Ron Samsom, Mostyn Cole and Roger Manins. Like every international who passes through, he heaped praise on the local musicians. Coming from Garzone this really counts. He and Manins go back a way and the synergies between them are evident (the Garzone influence is worldwide and Manins is no exception). Whether playing in unison or in counterpoint, they sounded right together – tenors who knew just how to compliment or when to keep clear. This was a very big sound and when trading fours they cajoled each other as friends might. The rhythm section was energised as well; Cole, Samsom and Field providing rhythmic and harmonic trickery. And at one point, ‘Hey great, I heard some Salsa in that solo’, said Garzone looking in Fields direction. 
When Vivian Sessoms sings, she takes you deep inside the music. Whether singing the American Songbook, or her own compositions, her storytelling resonates. She sings of American life with all its contradictions; joy and pain both laid bare. Her rendering of Herbie Hancock’s ‘Butterfly‘ tender: the rendering of her own composition, ‘I Can’t Breathe‘, a song referencing the ‘black lives matter’ struggle – raw. As she sang ‘I Can’t Breathe‘, people brushed tears away; feeling the loss, the injustice; sharing in the incomprehension. She sang it for the families of the young lives so senselessly snuffed out; dying at the hands of those sent to protect them – she sang it for us, a people located an ocean away. We listened and understood the message. Art is at its best when it is fearless and truth-telling – Sessoms gets this.
Sessoms is Harlem born and bred; an activist, the niece of Nancy Wilson, the daughter of musicians and a gifted performer with a long string of credits to her name. She was raised in the Jazz world but found early acclaim as a soul singer. Now she is returning to her Jazz roots with her ‘Life‘ album. The tour reviews have been overwhelmingly positive and no wonder; At age 9 she opened for Marvin Gaye, later working with Michael Jackson, Cher and Stevie Wonder. As a performer she is simply riveting; her voice a miracle – to have her here in an intimate Jazz club setting, a rare treat.
What we were hearing was counter-intuitive. A voice of incredible power, but a voice filled with subtlety: A voice that dominated a room, but never at the expense of nuance. Although powerful, her instrument never strained, a voice which flowed as naturally as breathing. These are rare qualities when considered together in one package. Her material was also well thought out; The standards timeless but each one interestingly reinterpreted: ‘Tenderly’, ‘Love for Sale’, ‘Round Midnight’, ‘Never Let Me Go’, ‘I’ve Got You Under My Skin’ and others. 
Sessoms is a generous entertainer, happy to mingle with the audience, comfortable enough to tease them a little; posing for endless selfies and promising faithfully to return. She even shared the microphone with several first-year students. That is the common touch – a thing Kiwis love; she read our love of informality well. For details about her ‘Life‘ album go to the website link below. If we support the album, it might just hasten her return.
She departed New Zealand the next morning on an early flight; arriving in the USA to be greeted by the news, that yet another jury had acquitted a police officer of killing an unarmed black youth. In these troubled times, more power to her.
Australia produces some distinctive, muscular tenor players and Andy Sugg is an example of that phenomena. The first thing that grabs a listener is an awareness of the raw power that fills a room when he blows. I am not just referring to volume or his fat rounded sound, but to the way he communicates an innate sense of musical purpose. This comes across as something beyond mere confidence. Deftly progressing through each tune; no over thinking, just a flow of connected ideas – and all carried on that delicious sound.
It is always tempting to look for comparisons or patterns, it is what listeners do (and probably what many players wish they didn’t do). It is part of how music works, our subconscious looking for a framework, for some reference point – a launching pad, a place of departure where the known departs for the unknown. In Sugg’s playing you could could hear them all. Name a great tenor player and that player was in there, listen harder and suddenly they were gone. Perhaps this is the hall mark of truly innovative players; they channel the essence of others and then dismiss them just as easily.
One of the joys of improvised music is the eternal conflict between the tangible and the intangible. You hear a phrase or a voicing that is maddeningly familiar, you feel a tingle of anticipation, you are on the verge of naming it – but before it takes form it is gone; dissolved into the intangible. Listening to Sugg is to catch a piece of Brecker, but listening to Sugg is also to hear an original. Tradition and innovation co-existing but ultimately spoken in his own dialect.
Against a background of complacency in regard to the ever declining biodiversity on the planet, one band is determined to raise our awareness. Those who have encountered the quartet on prior occasions will know the back story, connect the dots. GRG67 arose out of an impulse of crustacean empathy, an emotion usually confined to marine biologists and not Jazz musicians. However, once you grasp the fact that the band’s founder is Roger Manins, the rest falls into place. A sustainable fisher and co-manager of a small menagerie, Manins could best be described as the David Attenborough of the tenor saxophone. His world is strewn with animals and that’s the way he prefers it.
Each tune title was accompanied by a personal story or zoological insight; each bird was treated with deep respect. With titles like ‘chook empathy’, ‘chook 40’, ‘ginger chook’, ‘dark chook sin’ we were afforded some rare insights into the avian world. ‘Chook 40’ was not about the 40th chook as you might suppose. It opened our eyes to the fact that chooks have one more chromosome than humans. During that particular tune you could really sense that extra chromosome. ‘Dark chook sin’ was an invitation to anthropomorphism. What would a chook sin look like? Manins felt that Mallard ducks were more likely to sin than a chook (anyone living near ducks who has a deck will have a view on this).
The quartet played with wild enthusiasm in both sets and the good humour of the evening was infectious. Given the subject matter it was only fitting that the gig took place at the Thirsty Dog (dogs are also a recurring theme with Manins). The venue was congenial and the acoustics good. What more could you want on the last night of Spring. This band is a rallying cry, reminding us that in this troubled world we shouldn’t take the good things for granted. At a time when we are buffeted by the ill winds of international politics, the arts matter more than ever. New Zealand Jazz rewards us in so many ways and the diversity of improvised music in our city is a treasure. You get good musicianship and fun combined – and if you’re lucky a musical insight into the natural world around us.
I have posted the bands signature tune GRG67 as it simply crackled (cackled) with life (and it broke a previous speed record). These guys are fine musicians and GRG67 was never better than on this night. These guys sizzle.
Dan Bolton is an Australian born, New York based musician, at present touring New Zealand. His first show was at the CJC (Creative Jazz Club) in Auckland. While singer, songwriters who accompany themselves on piano, are a firmly established tradition in Jazz, we see them on tour very rarely. Many Jazz vocalists (like Ella Fitzgerald) could accompany themselves well, but few choose to do so. A number of notable musicians mastered this skill, notably Nat Cole, Ray Charles, and Shirley Horn. Doing two jobs simultaneously is always harder than doing one and especially where vocals and piano are concerned. The energies and postures require careful coordination and I suspect that this is harder than accompanying yourself on guitar.
Bolton is unusual in that he composes tunes which feel modern, but in a style reminiscent of the Great American Songbook; many of his tunes, are not dissimilar from those which came out of Tin Pan Alley, having the vibe of Irving Berlin or Cole Porter. The melodies are catchy in a time honoured way and the lyrics often biting; sometimes capturing our post-millennial angst. Many of Bolton’s tunes centre on the age-old themes of love and loss, others sarcastically critique modern American life. All maintain their sense of originality, in spite of the above comparisons.
Travelling with Bolton is the perennially popular drummer Mark Lockett. Lockett, like Bolton, lives in New York, but for several months of each year, he travels as band-leader, (or as hired gun as in this case). Lockett was born in New Zealand and he always gets a welcome reception when he makes it back. Watch out on gig noticeboards for him. He has another tour coming up shortly and this time with an organ trio. On tenor saxophone and flute was Auckland’s Roger Manins, his swoon-worthy ballad chops manifesting in their full glory. Mostyn Cole featured on upright bass, a regular at the CJC and an able musician. We heard some tantalising snippets of arco bass from him – more of that, please.
Last Wednesday saw the Venezuelan-born vocalist Jennifer Zea performing at the CJC. Her appearance was long overdue, the audience enthusiastic in anticipation of spicy South American Rhythms and the warm tones of the Spanish language in song form. When you look at where Venezuela sits on the map, you learn a lot about its music. Located in the northeast of South America, bordered by the Caribbean and by Brazil, positioned on a unique musical axis. Music blithely ignores the artificial barriers imposed by cartographers and politicians. Even Trump’s insulting wall could never be built high enough to stem musical cross-pollination. Music goes where people go, and remains as an echo long after they have moved on. Jennifer Zea is an embodiment of her country’s music; folk traditions, newer forms (Jaropo), Jazz, Soul, Bossa influences from Brazil and a pinch of Mambo, Salsa or Merengue.
The Caribbean region is the prime example of musical cross-pollination; rhythms and melodies, vocal forms and hybrid harmonization, a constant evolution into new and vibrant forms while updating and preserving the discrete pockets of older folk music styles. A weighty tome titled ‘Music and the Latin American Culture – Regional Traditions’ makes two observations; the music of the Venezuelan region is mostly hot or vibrant (see the definition of Salsa) and there is a strong underlying tradition of shamanism (manifest in musical form). The hypnotic rhythms and chants remain largely intact according to Schecter. With percussionist, Miguel Fuentes backing her, Zea conveyed the compellingly hypnotic soulful quality of her traditional music to good effect. 
Fuentes was born in the USA but grew up in Puerto Rico. These days like Zea, he lives in Auckland. Music like this demands high-quality authentic latin percussion and that’s exactly what happened. Traps drums were not needed here. Regular Zea accompanist, Jazz Pianist Kevin Field was also in the lineup. Field plays in many contexts and his accompanist credentials are second to none. He has regularly worked with Zea and (like Fuentes) most notably on her lovely 2012 release ‘The Latin Soul’. If you have a love of Cubano or Caribean style music, grab a copy of this album. Even on straight-ahead gigs, I have heard Field sneak in tasty clave rhythms. If you want to hear cross-rhythms at their best – skillfully woven by Field and Fuentes, it is on this album. An added incentive are the compositions, mostly by Field and Zea (and Jonathan Crayford). On upright bass for this gig was Mostyn Cole, an experienced bassist now residing in the Auckland region.
The gig featured some Zea compositions, three standards and to my delight some authentic Bossa. The Bossa tunes were mostly by the Brazilian genius Tom Jobim and sung in Portuguese (which is not her native language). Although Portuguese is the most commonly spoken language in Latin America, it is only the main spoken language of one country, Brazil. To learn Bossa she spent time with a teacher in order to understand the nuances and deep meanings. While respecting the Bossa song form she had the confidence to bring the music closer to her own Venezuelan musical traditions. Even her intonation was redolent of her region, unmistakably Hispanic South American.
There are a lot of interesting stories on the Jazz circuit and some of them more improbable than others. None more so than a gig dedicated to the Manukau Harbour mud crab Grg67 (Varunidae:Helice). This ten legged estuarine creature has inspired Roger Manins to name a band after him and to compose a significant number of tunes
in his honour. I could say that environmental activism fuelled the gig (and in part it was), but the affection and respect Manins exhibits towards these crustaceans is more complex than that. It is the respect of a dedicated Flounder fisherman; coloured by the quirkiness of an improvising musician. To quote: “When we play these compositions there are sharp claws and a soft underbelly; at times we can move unpredictably sideways at great speed”. Manins demonstrated this to great effect as he swiftly shuffled in alternate directions. You couldn’t make this stuff up. As the gig unfolded he delighted the audience with his antics and with the subsequent ‘crab’ influenced compositions.
Underneath the crusty carapace were a bunch of good tunes and as Manins inferred, they were tangentially tricky and replete with interesting musical twists. Good improvisers are always on the look out for new challenges, new ways to interpret the world about them. In putting together ‘Grg67’ a fresh vehicle for improvisation is born. By bringing in several less experienced musicians Manins has fulfilled an older imperative. To challenge and encourage those beginning the improvising journey. This is how it should work, but many older musicians forget that and remain in their comfort zones. Everyone stepped up here under Manins watchful eye.
The crab which is the central focus of these sets is Greg, but as Manins so eloquently explains “Crabs don’t use the letter ‘E’. It something to do with their waste not want not utilitarianism”. Other tunes had titles like ‘Crab Empathy’. These tunes and the stories that surrounded them evoked powerful mental images. As the music washed over us you could sense the ebb and flow of the tides. You could easily imagine a predatory Flounder sending the ever watchful crabs scuttling into their burrows (Flounder are none too bright according to net fisherman).
Michael Howell and Tristan Deck are the youngest members of the ensemble. Howell is a Jazz student and with each month his guitar work grows more impressive. As his confidence grows he stretches himself and playing with Manins is exactly what he needs. He is ready for the deep end of the crab pool. On this gig he played a borrowed Fender and it sat well with him. That Tristan Deck played so well did not surprise me at all; his career trajectory assured as he increasingly takes his place among the better Jazz drummers of the city. He was good when I saw him two years ago; now he is very good. For the second time this month Mostyn Cole appears at the CJC. This time he held the groove with electric bass. He is reliable and multi faceted. Again Manins showed how seamlessly he slots into very different situations. He presented a complex set of tunes to good effect, navigating break-neck tempos and fusing complexities with an inexhaustible supply of good humour.
Mark Lockett is a New York based drummer who visits Australasia once a year. Each time he returns he brings with him a piece of his adopted city. He is an original drummer comfortable in diverse situations; a benign but strong presence in any lineup. His artistic approach under-pinned by an easy confidence and this enables him to interact well and to read every nuance. His wide open ears, communicating the pulse and possibilities of the life he lives as a working musician in a big metropolis. There is also a humour he radiates, which peppers his comments and drumming like aromatic seasoning. A Mark Lockett gig is always original and always enjoyable.
The music of Ornette Coleman while not without constraints frees the artists from many of the hard-wired rules. It doesn’t sound at all out-of-place now but I can remember the storm that surrounded its arrival. A treat for me was the groups rendition of ‘Congeniality’ from the seminal ‘The Shape of Jazz to Come’ album. The controversy surrounding this material is long behind us and every improvising musician has a little of Ornette in them whether they acknowledge it or not.
Lockett often forms trios or ensembles that have no chordal instruments. While the musicians played ‘inside’ and ‘out’ they also attempted something we seldom hear in New Zealand. The opening number of the first set was Shiny Stockings (Frank Foster) and they played this in the style of the Mulligan piano-less quartets. Bass, Alto and Tenor in counterpoint and working within the changes. This was nice hear. I have an appetite for more of this.
“Playing like that (fast and furious) is meat and potatoes in New York”, he said. He was once told that he could get better control if he held his sticks further down than usual. Because of that and because of his melodic approach, he is very interesting to watch. Somehow the sound is cleaner and with musical drumming like this who needs a chordal instrument. I can’t wait until his next visit.
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