Number 112002 Vancouver International Jazz Festival Diary
Day 6 Wednesday, June 26, 2002
Wanted so badly to hear Murley/Froman Quartet again, this time at the CBC Jazz Café at noon and 1:00, but couldn’t make it. Heard later that it was just as fantastic as the night before, with a second gig ensuring the magic wasn’t just a passing fancy. As this was the CBC, the gig was recorded for the Saturday afternoon (5:05pm) program “Hot Air”. Woohoo. Do I smell a recording here? If the music gods are kind and the planets are all in alignment, then by all rights, it shall come to pass.
It was only fitting that the Brad Turner Trio would be up to soothe the hungry musical soul at Performance Works at 3:00pm. It still amazes me every time I see Turner play the piano (or the drums, for that matter) that he is so very good at a second and even a third instrument. And it’s always a treat to hear Turner on the piano, and today was no exception. It’s a more subdued Turner who sits at the piano, or maybe it only appears that way because the trumpet can be a much more in-your-face instrument. I wonder if, turned away from the audience and facing the other musicians, Turner finds the piano a more peaceful, introspective place to be, kind of an escape, at least until the applause starts. Highly enjoyable performance by this great trio who get that so very comfortable vibe with each other by consistent playing all year ‘round. Let’s all give thanks for the Mojo Room (R.I.P.) and The Cellar (long live The Cellar!) for helping out on that front.
Back at Perf Works for 9:00pm improv with guitarist Marc Ducret; electric bassist Chris Tarry; percussionist/trumpeter Dylan van der Schyff; clarinetist François Houle; and pianist/keyboardist Chris Gestrin (note the latter three were also using electronics for instrument enhancement as well as separate instrumentation). Wasn’t sure what to expect here, as this is a bit of an unusual grouping, but that’s half the fun of improv: mix it up and see what happens. What happened was kind of an odd musical ride, with moments of sheer, ear-splitting group pandemonium that threatened and gestured wildly, to quiet moments of gentle beauty that perhaps taunted the beast that came before. It started well enough, gently easing in with Houle emitting eerie chunks of breath through his electronics-enhanced clarinet that echoed, high little pip squeak hits of guitar while barely there tinkles of piano, low rumbles of bass like far-off distant thunder cooking up something heavy and swishes of percussion gave way to shocking guitar skronks, building on the trouble brewing theme with piano string manipulation (a sound so unnatural, but so cool) and twisted drunken guitar wails it just had to come to a head, no? I had been sleepy when I arrived, but was now quite awake. I loved the first piece, but was absolutely toasted by the industrial-strength second piece. Moments were had amongst the throng, coming when things settled down and duos sprang up out of the fivesome. Two such memorable occasions were Houle and Ducret trading secrets across the stage with a call and answer session; and another in that second piece when the beautiful cry of Tarry’s electric bass echoed a gorgeous melody Houle’s clarinet was singing, going along awhile together, then separating and following their own path. Shoulda quit while I was ahead here, but curiosity willed me to stay though I was past the point of no return, particularly on Ducret’s guitar, which elicited reactions that alternated from ‘What’s he doing to make that sound?’ to wishing I’d brought ear plugs. But it got a reaction, and that’s what it’s partly about, I suppose.
Foolishly tried for another hit at Studio 16 midnight for Gail Brand’s Lunge. Walked in at a very quiet point, stayed all of 10 minutes and realized I was crashing. Just don’t know what musically speaking it would’ve took to revive me at that point, but this was too mellow, though I’m sure it had its big moments as well. Home for a rest seemed like the only solution at this point.
P.S. Happy belated Birthday to Tony Wilson. I hear the cake was good.
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Writer/Photographer Josephine Ochej is a regular contributor to The Jazz Review, the Westender and Coda Magazine.