Vancouver meets Montréal! Ron Samworth (electric guitar) and Dylan van der Schyff (drums) from Vancouver join forces with Bernard Falaise (electric guitar) and Pierre Tanguay (drums) from Montréal. Ron Samworth and Dylan van der Schyff are leading figures of the Vancouver new music/improv scene with connections to the likes of George Lewis, Louis Sclavis, Vinny Golia, Barry Guy, Evan Parker and involvement in the NOW Orchestra, Hard Rubber Orchestra, François Houle ensembles and many more. Bernard Falaise and drummer Pierre Tanguay are Montréal composers and improvisers associated with television, theatre, dance, Les Projectionnistes, Dangereux Zhoms, etc. In a word all four of them are improvisers with great expertise and reputation. On this first meeting all four members of this quartet - or double duo if you want - demonstrate a similar interest in improv and improv rock. They talk the same language. Subtle and quiet passages on the one hand, intense and noisy and quasi-melodic outbursts at the other. We hear some very nice battles, like between the two guitarists in Oh My!. In general the interplay between the four is very concentrated and rich. All four take part in the sound explorations, so that one can say it’s really a well-balanced group improvisation. Together they lay down a wide spectrum of sounds extracted from their instruments through a diversity of extended techniques and attributes.
blogue@press-2528
press@2528
The official history of jazz, with its New-Orleans-to-swing-to-bop-to-cool-to-fusion-to-free-to-?? continuum, reads like an evolutionary epic, and contemporary fans who like to think of jazz as a living, even controversial art form, rather than a chapter in a high school textbook on American history, might balk at the fact that this French-Canadian trio play swing, play notes, play songs, when that sort of thing went the way of the dinosaur after Ornette Coleman dropped Free Jazz way back in 1960. But on this bare-bones recording, Jean Derome (sax, flutes), Normand Guilbeault (bass) and Pierre Tanguay (drums) prove that a visit to a couple of old forms doesn’t have to rest on a bed of nostalgia, that walking bass and key changes don’t necessarily preclude freer sounds, and, most importantly, that good jazz is less a style than a spirit, a way of interacting and playing that swings, in the most liberal sense of the word.
Marcher Sur Des Braises starts the album off with a spare shuffle from Tanguay and a little in-joke from Guilbeault, who plucks a rudimentary version of those three chords you can find in every Guide to Playing Rock Guitar under “Blues Chug” or some such heading, as if to say, “Rock can get away with the same thing decade after decade, so why can’t we?” Derome follows up with a low, crystal-clear theme straight from the Coltrane songbook, and when Guilbeault walks away from his blues progression into higher registers, Derome follows with a minimal but hard-hitting solo that touches a few blue notes in between its more refined runs. Both Vérone and Pangolin keep up this hard-boiled, hard-thinking approach to swing, the first with dark and gorgeous open chords from Guilbeault, unassuming melodicism from Derome and a punchy beat with a generous bass end from Tanguay, and the second with Tanguay’s slow and spacious drum work and Derome’s slinky turn on baritone sax, which erupts into a few Dolphy-like squeals near the end of the track. When the trio decide to take on worlds outside the explicit parameters of swing, they take their focus with them and make every exploratory minute worth the trip: refer to the loosely-bound mini-epic L’Africaine, on which Derome takes off for high-altitude abstractions, and Fluide, an exercise in classical serialism.
In spite of their straight-up beat, rockish bass touches and moments of clear melody, this trio plays anything but NPR jazz. Their approach is hard-hitting and well-versed in the sort of rebellious, free-thinking spirit that infects all types of jazz. As a result, 10 Compositions is an intense success.
blogue@press-2523
press@2523
Often detached, dusty and irrevocably divorced from the context in which they were hatched, live albums tend to be museum-quality the moment they leave the mastering suite. Occasionally, though, a concert recording escapes the hobbling likelihood of staid sexlessness and captures as much animated verve as any studio project. Take Robert Lepage’s collaboration with Montréal’s La Nef. This three-part extravaganza, recorded at Quebec’s premier new music festival in March of 2003, begins with an eclectic cache of instrumental textures and ends with a portable version of Lepage’s most recent opus, which loses almost nothing in translation.
La Machine…’s thematic premise is simple. The composition begins with three idiomatic understandings of time (time passes, time flies, time slips by — called “Paradoxes” here) and uses each to guide a long musical movement from the outlands of avant-inscrutability home to the motherland of meaning. The result is stunning. Aided by La Nef, an ensemble of ten (including common chamber instruments and percussion, as well as guitar, banjo, tenor sax, viola da gamba, sackbut and live sampling) spools out the instrumentally dense compositions. The sheer conglomeration of the ensuing sounds would be enough to snare the open minds of many a curious listener, but the resonant respect for the audience inherent in Lepage’s complicated composition truly wins the day.
After an introductory address spoken in French over a pastiche of cuckoos, whistles and other frenetic clock noise, Confitures de sable eases in the proceedings with an armature of swaying, repetitious bass, splashing auxiliary percussion and gentle string swells. Loosely played flute and brass wash across the foundation with gentle, exploratory touch of a lover in patient heat. Then, like a freak parade in a conservatory, Le Tamponneur de triolet crashes in with a stomping insistence that, for all its initial bravado, ends up degenerating into a trombone and electronic effects duet that pulls off a wholly charismatic simultaneity of cranky savvy, flirtatious cloying and technical wizardry.
A seriously laid-back island vibe sets in with La Nef en bateau, at which point the remarkably organic fluctuation of disparate moods that informs the work is firmly established. Without ever interrupting the piece’s rum-cocktail fluidity, lazily plucked slide guitar, wispy flute, wandering violin and smarmy shaker dominate. Chronotopie du Cancer could be a Danny Elfman score, if only he weren’t stuck in the same always-recognizable chordal modes we’ve heard in countless Tim Burton films. The palatable insanity of the mood treads the line between intention and caprice without a missed step, and in closing the first movement, the track is a flat blast — and perfect punctuation.
In the second movement, Ennio Morricone rises from the grave, albeit through the funhouse mirror that refracts the entirety of La Machine…. Banjo, guitar, major chords and fickle entropy rise to the fore in the six tracks of this middle “Paradoxe,” whose highlight is Le Coup d’archet est toujours plus vert dans la cour du voisin, a gritty and heavily effected string solo that puts any all-star fiddling on live Yanni discs straight to shame. The movement wraps with a delicate waltz that may be the disc’s most derivative two-and-a-half minutes, but remain no less lovely for their lesser challenge.
“Time” indeed “slips by” in the “Troisième paradoxe.” Short, elegant and appropriately ethereal, the movement’s five tracks (excepting a break to introduce the musicians) work like a lubricated rub-down in the wee hours after a long, happily challenging day. The closer (Oups! J’ai échappé ma boîte d’accords majeurs!) slides through varying tempos while lightly hammering a two-beat alternation that brings this mad masterwork to an ideal denouement, as if Montréal weren’t already the front-runner for the Most Steamy North American Hotbed of the New Millennium Musical Vanguard Award. Phew! Now go towel off.
blogue@press-2524
press@2524
Les artistes de DAME seront présent lors de la prochaine édition du Festival international de jazz de Montréal. Rouge ciel sera en concert le 1er juillet 2004 au Musée d’art contemporain de Montréal, Marilyn Lerner le ,2 juillet, au Gesù, L’Ensemble Pierre Labbé le ,4 juillet,, Noma le ,9 juillet, et The Unexpected le ,10 juillet, tous trois au Musée d’art contemporain de Montréal et finalement Antoine Berthiaume le ,11 juillet, à la Scène du Festival à l’esplanade de la Place des Arts.
Triple offensive de deux redoutables poseurs de bombes-platines. Splendide désordre. La dématerialisation ne faisant rlen qu’à gagner du terrain (si l’on peut dire), prenons plaisir à parler d’un disque d’abord en tant qu’objet. Ce plaisir sera d’autant plus vif que l’objet-disque qui nous intéresse présente plusieurs signes ostensibles de non-conformismes: prenant la forme d’un coffret miniature semblable à une boîte à bijoux, il contient trois mini-cd,tous trois glissés dans une feuille de papier gris. Miniature, mini, mince… Cela signifie-t-il qu’ici tout est riquiqui? Pas du tout, mais alors pas du tout! Tout entière composée d’ondes de choc, la chaotique musique que déversent, ensemble ou séparément, Otomo Yoshihide et Martin Tétreault, tendrait plutôt, avec une vigueur vite perceptible, à un ravissement maximal des tympans. Cette saine entreprise de décrassage n’étonne guère de la part de deux trublions notoires, platinistes - un platiniste étant, sachez-le, non pas un disciple de Michel Platini, mais un manipulateur plus ou moins indiscipliné de platine-disques - véhéments, persuadés que le bruit est une aventure que chaque enregistrement réitére. Aprés tout, si ce n’est pas pour chahuter l’inconnu, à quoi bon s’en aller en studio? Studio, tel est d’ailleurs le titre du disque, abrasif exemple de dissiddence sonique, né de la rencontre entre nos chercheurs de noises. De ce Studio en splendide désordre, Tétreault a effectué un remix analogique, tandis que le kamikaze Yoshihide lui faisait subir les derniers outrages numériques. Le tout est à prendre ou à laisser. On prend.
blogue@press-2518
press@2518
On the compilation CD Sang 9 reviewed for Vital several months ago, the Ambiances Magnétiques label presented new and lesser known talents from Canada on the new music scene. One of them was Mélanie Auclair who now presents her first solo effort. On most of the pieces on this debut she either sings or plays cello. Most pieces have accompanied with another musician. On one piece we hear a trio and in the opening track Auclair plays a solopiece for cello. Auclair started playing cello at the age of 4 and later she was trained in classical singing. Nowadays Auclair likes to play improvised music because of her interest and drive to let emerge music spontaneously. She recorded with Joane Hétu, Bernard Falaise and Klaxon Gueule a.o. Auclair also has some experience in composing for theatre and dance productions. But now she wanted her music to stand on it’s own feet. For this project she asked and received the cooperation of several musicians she admires. We hear Auclair in duo with Vincent Réhel (piano), Guy Thouin (percussion, voice), Eric Auclair (bass, vibraphone), Charles Papasoff (bariton sax), Joane Hétu (voice) and Bernard Falaise (electric guitar). The cd closes with a trio by Eric Auclair and Michel Dubeau (Shakuachi). So it should not surprise that the 8 tracks on this cd make up a varied collection of improvisations. In all these meetings Auclair was interested in letting the improvisations come as spontaneoulsy as possible. If you ask me what they have in common, I would say that most pieces develop in the same slow pace. The intense vocal piece by Auclair and Hétu forms the exception. Because Auclair likes to play the low ranges of the cello most pieces have a dark and melancholic atmosphere, which is escpecially the case for the moving opening track. A common quality is also that most improvisations are textural explorations. Another musician mysterously named Papa Sucreah plays a role here. He seems to involved in most of the tracks doing some electronic extras that I’m unable to identify. Anyway with Puce à l’oreille Auclair delivers a improvised music that is ‘unspectacular’ but of a great emotive quality and honesty.
blogue@press-2521
press@2521