This is intense and demanding, (and frequently entertaining across its 35½ minutes) stuff. It was recorded at a performance at the Literary & Philosophical Society as part of last year’s Newcastle Festival of Jazz and Improvised Music.
We crash into it with a single heavy chord and the brief
thought that they might be playing A Hard
Day’s Night flashes across the mind. But no. Beck proceeds to run through
the full range of capabilities open to those who play sax and/or bassoon. There
are breathy feral growls and disconnected squeaks, drones and wails. Pope
prowls behind him on the bass, wolf-like (or is that determinism based on the
title?) The backing from piano, guitar and drums is delicate but punctuated with
occasional sonic bombs (which sounds like the most surreal of weather
forecasts). It is like a meeting of three minds, with Beck at one point, Pope
on bass at another and Cole and the Hunters at a third.
Gradually the landscape shifts as Cole’s angular piano notes
come to the fore and the others seem to grapple to keep up with her. A rolling
melee breaks to leave Beck unaccompanied, chasing shadows and tying knots. It
all seems free and unstructured but as the band come back in or drop out it’s
clear that there is a guiding mind (Beck?) orchestrating the interplay.
Half way through an atmosphere of resignation and melancholy
reigns before whistles conjure up a pastoral setting; a bird swooping across
open fields. It’s a tense moment, with only the most fragile of accompaniment.
The tenor asks the questions, and, at first, gets no answers but the crescendo
builds and Beck solos like a man possessed, Cole’s heavy chording on the piano
is the rock at the eye of the storm as others throw furniture downstairs behind
her. Entertaining, as promised.
As we move into the last section the bird call has returned;
Pope stepping lightly, on the prowl again and we think of Prokofiev’s Peter and the Wolf. What follows is a
brief, accessible section of modern post-bop, but we know it can’t last and it
doesn’t it almost sounds like all are racing to get to the end first. Beck,
again, solos lustily, short phrases, slurs, sharp stabs are all part of his
repertoire. All fades leaving Pope alone to play a death march to the close.
There is some exciting material here and I bet it was enthralling to be in the audience in that moment. From Wolves To Water is out now and is available through the NJaIM Bandcamp page. Dave Sayer
No comments :
Post a Comment