Trish Clowes with her My Iris Quartet at Cambridge Modern Jazz on Thursday 27 May at 7.30 p.m.
Showing posts with label CMJ. Show all posts
Showing posts with label CMJ. Show all posts
Thursday, 2 December 2021
Can’t wait to play for you... And it doesn’t feel weird ! : Trish Clowes with her My Iris Quartet at Cambridge Modern Jazz on Thursday 27 May at 7.30 p.m. (uncorrected proof)
More views of - or before - Cambridge Film Festival 2019 (17 to 24 October)
(Click here to go directly to the Festival web-site)
27 May (posted 2 December 2021)
Trish Clowes with her My Iris Quartet at Cambridge Modern Jazz on Thursday 27 May at 7.30 p.m.
Can’t wait to play for you... And it doesn’t feel weird ! [work in progress (uncorrected proof)]
<i>Set-list</i> :https://t.co/mQj3R9jQTH with a view
— THE AGENT APSLEY #ScrapUniversalCredit #JC4PM2019 (@THEAGENTAPSLEY) December 1, 2021
2.Time
3.Almost [From 'Two days ago ?', Clowes thought]
4.Amber
5.Morning songhttps://t.co/QCVjfjL12P idea
7.Just the Nesshttps://t.co/xJP5uOHLDc to fall [<i>Ninety Degrees Gravity</i> album]
Alongside fluency in and between registers¹, what one can also slow down to hear in Clowes' playing,
behind the clarity of her runs (which Clowes will elide to suit the musical mood or purpose),
is a measure of restraint, of careful placement
Jean-Paul Belmondo
The gig proper – a run-through, as one Covid-informed set, for 75 mins – begins with (1) a jaunty and literally up-beat opener, taking us immediately to the experience and expectation that syncopation, rim-taps, and an emphasis as well as on rhythmicity as on melodic line or material were the things around which this instrumentation-led group of music-makers coalesce and find their means of coherence.
So it was that an early electric-organ solo 'sounded the note of' funk, and Stanley then went on to provide a soft undertow to Clowes – any solos in this gig were just there, and were not in need of / did not invite the apparent appreciation of applause : in a gig like this one, and with a wholly engaged ensemble cast (albeit with Clowes as clear leader), it gets in the way of the ensemble (and mar what one would value).
(2) 'Time', by deliberate contrast, more resembled a ballad, gently, optimistically and unapologetically romantic in the form of its soaring statement on sax, but then, by way of a slightly Caledonian (Hibernian ?) groove and drone, there was an emanating sense of hours that hang a bit too heavily, which yet, by noodling on, one gets past.
Another outright, if brief, statement of the thematic material made way for a slurring and skirling of the tenor-sound, and took us into what, poetically, felt as if they might be the squalliness of sails, and that they (or we) were in the wind and the sky !
Tweet (to come)
(3) 'Almost' began in a free vein, in which the sensation continued of being connected with a world external to the physical venue, of seeing – or even being ? – a bird, coasting on thermal-currents, or of a brook, being followed upstream.
As to both overall content and Clowes' own tone-colour and ambit of palette, there seemed to be, in and beyond the music played, a personal and organic observation and reflection that saw the inner through the outer – or through the other – and its seeming exteriority.
A segue of rim-taps and alterations in tempo and rhythm brought us to the firstlings of Montague's and Clowes' playing off each other, which is one of this quartet's greatest depths. This approach to being present and open to, and as aware as possible of, each other, and – in gigging that already creatively extends the mere (pre)text of a song or tune – an act of addition that seems to exceed the available forces :
For, at times, perhaps we had glimpses here of something more certain or more visible than that which we know (or know that we know), and also the sensation, in the very instant of their vanishing, that other things do and can become tangible.
In (4) 'Amber', a new work from, with or for an old-established cellist collaborator² (and written in the name of the person behind Donate4Refugees), Clowes gave us elements of note-patterns³, and a querulous riff, which, with Montague, became a call-and-response of riffs, before a switch of time-signature [...]
Writing, and performing it, with a sense of place and of its intenseness
(5) 'Morning song' proved to embody tonal uncertainty in what, at first, seemed an open and frank tune from the heart, and which when Montague picked it up, became as if that now-uncertain heart had lurched into a sudden and terrifying perception of the vertiginous actuality of the moment. (Those who have ever experienced an unspecific, but doom-laden, anxiety would have related to that dread moment.)
Moving past which, however, Clowes made a bluesily contemplative re-visit to the initial material, and, joined again by Montague, one could easily imagine a couple, smooching alone on the dance-floor, as evening breakers crashed on the shore-line. (Well, Th'Agent could !)
Again – as in the aside for 'Morning song' (with Clowes saying that it was so called because she wrote it in the morning) – Clowes could not resist describing (6) 'No idea' as 'Another amazing title' – and its start did seem to evoke seeking around, without finding (or else rooting around, but not giving up ?)
In any case, maybe a little as with Bridget Riley's Hesitate (1964) [alluded to above], the material then centres on a falling interval (which 'might' have been an echo of a bird-call* ?), but soon differently modulated, stressed or breathed through, before widening out into another rockin' / stomping section, full of creations and warmth, and a wealth of ideas and optimism.
Yet Clowes, keeping it back and under, and then seeming to resume with the initial thematic content - whereas, perhaps, it was only to bring on the abruptness of the number's ending ?
NB This is where the review 'collapses into' rough expansions / transcriptions / interpretations of the gig-notes...
(7) Riffy opening and to and fro, as to the lead playing, between Clowes and Montague. Then, more Morse-coded marks, gestures or tics led into what felt a haunted, echoic and ruminative soundtrack, perhaps for a noir that exists only on the level of sound ? (As Clowes confirmed afterwards having said on other occasions, she has found inspiration before in the cinematic work of a film-maker friend) – yet one, or of how we feel about ourselves in this (or any ?) world.
In a coda, in and during which the humour of Maddren, more and more theatrically and obviously shuffling and rummaging in his sticks – until all were brought into both hands, and then propelled onto the surface of part of his drum-kit, brought on a broader smile and a snort of appreciation.
Left with Montague, the tempo slowed, the texture broadened outward and into a feeling of nourishment, and a quiet close.
In announcing the final piece, Clowes made it clear that she had had our experience that 'The church sounds amazing !', and straightaway added to that comment A keeper ! (Afterwards, with friends, etc., there seemed to be agreement that the venue's carpeted flooring and other upholstery, as well as the natural construction of the space, makes for a very suitable acoustic.)
Arrival (2016)
(8) 'Free to fall' (from the album Ninety Degrees Gravity) had the feel of a ballad in a folk idiom, being breezily and calmingly mused over.
However, when we moved into the main section, at a fast tempo and with off-beats and the other features of the quartet's style, there was a hinting at bowing-out in a joyous and jubilant moment.
In fact, even if by way of a high-magisterial rock-style solo from Montague, there was a breathy and slow and calmed end to the gig.
The show was over, but we weren’t going to be done with thinking about the atmospheres that, on the isle of this shallow dais, Clowes and the My Iris Quartet had brought before us and, so, into being. Yet, not as Prospero to Miranda, but more the magic that Miranda found herself able to work on her embittered father in her direct and unenslaved response [even if Huxley got there and (cynically ?) subverted it] :
[…] Oh, wonder !
How many goodly creatures are there here !
How beauteous mankind is ! O brave new world,
That has such people in’t ! […]
End-notes :
¹ Which #UCFF tries to invoke as smokily burnished colours in the lower one, and a more lightly coppery timbre above... ?
² Lucy Railton, one assumes (in which case, actually heard live, some time, at Cambridge Modern Jazz) ?
³ Although, when asked afterwards by #UCFF, not actually in any conscious relation to birdsong.
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Unless stated otherwise, all films reviewed were screened at Festival Central (Arts Picturehouse, Cambridge)
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