Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘The Wrong Object’

11618_887005678008197_8446175010915425945_n

A documentary film by José Zegarra Holder and Adele Schmidt
Produced by Zeitgeist Media LLC
Total time: 118 minutes

Located in Kent, the south-eastern county nicknamed “Garden of England” for its bucolic beauty, Canterbury is a city of barely over 50,000 people, dominated (not just in a physical sense) by the sprawling mass of its stunning Gothic cathedral. For all its rich history, it is easy to imagine how stifling such a place might have felt to its younger denizens in the late Sixties. Its very Englishness, in some ways, explains many of the distinctive features of the musical movement that originated there in those heady years.

Even within a quintessentially niche context such as progressive rock, the Canterbury scene has acquired a cult status that transcends its unassuming beginnings. With often mind-boggling connections and ramifications that would make the task of drawing a family tree rather daunting, this “movement” – born, in a polite, understated English way, from the early musical pursuits of a handful of middle-class teenagers – became extremely influential, though never achieving any of the commercial success that was awarded (albeit briefly) to some of the original prog bands.

Well over two years in the making, and nearly two hours long, the third chapter in Adele Schmidt and José Zegarra Holder’s Romantic Warriors saga is at the same time similar and different from its predecessors. Though by far the most technically polished of the three documentaries – its pristine photography providing a perfect foil to the grainy footage from the Seventies – it is also the one with the strongest emotional impact. Meticulously researched, yet somewhat hampered by the unwillingness of some of the key protagonists of the scene to release material, or even just show up, the film occasionally feels like a story told from a third-person point of view. This, however, proves to be a strength rather than a weakness, lending an almost mythical quality to the narration.

In spite of some glaring defections, many of the exponents of the early Canterbury scene agreed to contribute to the film, providing their unique insights on the birth and development of the movement. Their contributions are supported by those of three modern-day experts: Aymeric Leroy, who maintains the most complete and informative website on the Canterbury scene; Bruce Gallanter of Downtown Music Gallery, one of New York City’s few surviving independent music stores; and Leonardo Pavkovic, head of Moonjune Records.

The story unfolds in chronological order, its very dense content sometimes hard to follow even for those who are familiar with the ins and outs of the scene – lively and colourful, yet tinged with an inescapable feeling of sadness. Because of the unavailability of a lot of the material recorded in those years, the music often takes a back seat: in fact, Canterbury Tales is the first film in the series to have a score written expressly by an outsider to the movement itself – the very talented, Maryland-based multi-instrumentalist/composer Dan Britton, who appeared in the first Romantic Warriors. On account of this and other factors, the film’s focus on people rather than music comes across even more strongly than in the previous two episodes of this “progressive music saga”.

If I had to sum up Canterbury Tales in few words, I would say that it is, first and foremost, about absence and loss. The story of Soft Machine – probably the best-known and most influential of the Canterbury acts – is mostly told by people who (with the sole exception of Daevid Allen) were not involved in the original incarnation of the band, though the availability of plentiful footage makes the extremely intricate tale come alive. Some of the protagonists of the scene seem to view their connection to Canterbury more like an embarrassment than a badge of honour: iconic keyboardist Dave Stewart’s image is hard to discern even in photo stills, while Robert Wyatt’s 1995 interview makes it quite clear that he is not interested in revisiting the past (“I am not a museum”).

In most other cases, however, the absence is a direct consequence of death: in fact, over the years the Canterbury scene has lost a larger share of its protagonists than other prog subgenres. The slight, pixie-like figure of Daevid Allen – with his lined face and uncannily young eyes and smile – weaves in and out of the narration, his untimely passing (occurred while the film was in post-production) reinforcing its melancholy, elegiac mood. In the whirlwind of images, the headline of Charlie Hebdo – the French satirical magazine that gained notoriety after the tragic events of a few months ago – flashes by a couple of times, perhaps easily missed, but adding to the pervasive sense of loss.

On the other hand, Canterbury’s trademark sense of humour and whimsy – a blend of quintessentially English nonsense, slightly risqué puns and highbrow suggestions – is suitably emphasized, in stark contrast with the stereotyped idea of progressive rock as an overly serious genre. Those characteristics are embodied by some of the musicians who appear in the film: Richard Sinclair’s gently eccentric, almost luminous presence, Mont Campbell’s charismatic allure and self-deprecating wit, Daevid Allen’s endearing quirkiness stand out, while others come across as more serious, but as a whole all the original protagonists give the impression of being content with their life, and still very much involved in artistic creation.

One of the most appealing features of Canterbury Tales lies in its “travelogue” aspect, apparently at odds with the narrow geographical focus of the original scene. Alongside Canterbury Cathedral’s majestic towers and pinnacles, the immaculately beautiful images of different locales – London’s Tower Bridge by night, Paris’ stately boulevards, the silver-grey North Sea shore, the peaceful greenery of the Apulian countryside, the bustling streets of Barcelona, the bright lights of the theatre district in Kyoto – illustrate the wide-ranging sweep of a movement that over the years managed to spread its influence well beyond the borders of its humble beginnings. Accordingly, the activity of non-English Canterbury bands such as Moving Gelatine Plates, The Muffins and Supersister is given ample recognition.

While watching Canterbury Tales, it is often hard not to feel that – unlike the first two chapters of the saga – the film’s main focus is on the past rather than the present. Daevid Allen’s enthusiastic endorsement of Gong’s newest member, maverick guitarist/composer Kavus Torabi, contrasts with the film’s final shot of David Sinclair’s deeply moving interpretation of his own signature piece, “Nine Feet Underground”, while the camera lingers over hands that, in spite of the evident marks of age, are as nimble as ever over the keys. Even if enough space is granted to those modern bands and artists who have picked up the baton (Forgas Band Phenomena, Planeta Imaginario, The Wrong Object and Syd Arthur), it is not enough to dispel the looming presence of the past, and the underlying poignancy so superbly conveyed by the opening and closing shots of Allen’s solitary figure on the sea shore. The dedication of the film to Zegarra’s mother and all the musicians who have passed away compounds the impression that Canterbury Tales is, in many ways, an epitaph.

Even if someone may find its relative lack of original music disappointing, Canterbury Tales is a beautiful, deeply touching (though not depressing) piece of filmmaking, a warm-hearted tribute to those protagonists of the scene who are no longer with us. While the film’s subdued mood reflects the impermanence of things, the lasting legacy of the music created by that handful of young people from a provincial corner of England is given its due, and the unavoidable sadness implied in Daevid Allen’s fateful parting words is somewhat mitigated. Highly recommended to every self-respecting progressive rock fan, Canterbury Tales is also an encouragement to delve deep into the treasure trove of this highly idiosyncratic subgenre’s rich output.

Links:
http://www.progdocs.com/Progdocs.com/Home.html
http://calyx.perso.neuf.fr/index.html
http://www.moonjune.com
http://www.downtownmusicgallery.com/Main/index.htm

Advertisements

Read Full Post »

a2030374746_10

TRACKLISTING:
1. Life Is (4:21)
2. A Good Man (3:49)
3. Childhood Dreams (6:31)
4. Les Larmes (9:36)
5. Tuesday Rain (5:08)
6. Ileana’s Song (3:37)
7. When You’re Dead (7:15)
8. Pigeon’s Intrusion (6:00)
9. Le Voyage (3:22)
10. Linear Blindness (4:12)
11. Butterflies (6:38)

LINEUP:
Susan Clynes – piano, vocals
Simon Lenski – cello (3, 4, 7, 8, 11)
Pierre Mottet – bass (2, 6)
Nico Chkifi – drums (2, 6)

Belgian singer/pianist/composer Susan Clynes first came to the attention of the progressive rock audience for her stunning vocal performance on the song “Glass Cubes” (written by her husband, keyboardist Antoine Guenet, also a member of Univers Zéro and Sh.t.gn) on The Wrong Object’s critically acclaimed 2013 album After the Exhibition. With a solid academic background supporting her obvious passion for music, it was just a matter of time before Clynes’s talent – first showcased in the piano trio album Sugar for a Dream, released in 2005, when the artist was just 17 years old – was recognized outside the boundaries of her native country, thanks to the sponsorship of peerless talent-scout Leonardo Pavkovic of Moonjune Records.

Released in February 2014, Life Is… marks Clynes’ international debut, and presents material recorded by the artist during three concerts held in two different locations. Although not exactly a prog album (indeed, its conventional rock quotient is very limited, it does stand squarely in that vast “grey area” at the periphery of that much-debated genre, and does have enough progressive characteristics to appeal to a sizable slice of its fandom. True, its intimate nature and stripped-down instrumentation, may be seen as a turn-off by those who crave lush, multilayered arrangements and an impressive arsenal of instruments, both traditional and exotic. On the other hand, Life Is… is a poster child for that often-applied tag of “progressive but not prog” (a blessing or a curse, depending on points of view).

While comparisons to highly regarded artists such as Kate Bush, Tori Amos or Fiona Apple (not to mention their spiritual “mothers”, Laura Nyro and Joni Mitchell) abound, it would be unfair to suggest that Clynes is in any way a copycat artist. For one thing, her strong, confident voice (sounding a bit strained on a couple of tracks, but then at 26 years of age she has still plenty of room for growth), eschews the overly ethereal or mock-operatic tones adopted by far too many female singers, and is actually more effective when keeping to a mid-range. Additionally, Clynes places an even stronger emphasis on the instrumental component, often using her voice as an instrument rather than in “traditional” singing.

With its catchy melody and uplifting, life-affirming lyrics, the title-track possesses a faint Canterbury vibe even in its chamber dimension; Clynes’ emotional vocals and dramatic piano do not need any further embellishments to keep listeners on their toes. The song is one of four recorded during a solo performance at the library of the Cultural Centre of the Flemish town of Bree – together with the rarefied torch song of “Tuesday Rain”, the more assertive “Linear Blindness” and the gentle, impressionistic instrumental vignette of “Le Voyage”. On the other hand, the jaunty, energetic “A Good Man” (which reminded me a lot of Kate Bush) and the delightful, lilting ballad “Ileana’s Song” (dedicated to her daughter, who was born during the recording of the album) feature the discreet presence of Pierre Mottet’s double bass and Nico Chkifi’s drums, and were recorded during the first of two shows at Brussels’ historic Art Deco bar The Archiduc.

In the remaining five tracks (also recorded at The Archiduc, though on a different occasion), Clynes is accompanied by cellist Simon Lenski of Belgian chamber rock outfit DAAU on cello, with truly outstanding results. The distinctive sound of the instrument complements her voice, and allows her to display her full potential – as in the scintillating “Childhood Dreams” (dedicated to another influential figure in Clynes’ life, her aunt Yoka, who passed away while she was writing the album), with its breezy scat overtones. The 9-minute “Les Larmes” (the longest track on the album), dedicated to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, is infused by a warm Spanish/Mediterranean feel enhanced by Susan’s lovely wordless vocalizing, while the cello, even with its occasionally strident, drawn-out tone, lends it an almost classical solemnity – which also emerges in the autumnal, Old-World-flavoured instrumental “Pigeon’s Intrusion”. In sharp contrast with the bright-eyed optimism of the title-track, “When You Are Dead” sounds hypnotic and ominous, with Clynes’ lower-pitched voice and the treated cello dipping and surging in unison in a blend of romanticism and tension – a pattern also displayed in haunting closing track “Butterflies”.

With a well-balanced running time of about one hour, plenty of melody, yet also ample room for more offbeat fare, Life Is… offers an accessible listening experience, yet with enough of an edge to appeal to listeners of a more adventurous bent. Packaged in an attractively minimalist cover showing a lovely photo of the artist’s face – embellished by clear gems that mirror the sparkling nature of her music – and the added interest value of Sid Smith’s impeccably penned liner notes, this album is already poised to become one of 2014’s highlights in terms of non-mainstream music releases.

Links:
http://susanoclynes.wix.com/susanclynes-music
http://www.moonjune.com/mjr_web_2013/catalog_mjr/061_SUSAN-CLYNES_Life-Is_MJR061/
http://moonjunerecords.bandcamp.com/album/life-is

 

Read Full Post »

cover_15772752013_r

TRACKLISTING:
1. Detox Gruel (4:13)
2. Spanish Fly (5:19)
3. Yantra (8:04)
4. Frank Nuts (3:38)
5. Jungle Cow Part I (5:50)
6. Jungle Cow Part II (4:40)
7. Jungle Cow Part III (6:07)
8. Glass Cubes (8:30)
9. Wrong but Not False (5:28)
10. Flashlight Into Black Hole (3:05)
11. Stammtisch (5:59)

LINEUP:
Michel Delville – guitar, Roland GR-09
Antoine Guenet  – keyboards, vocals
Marti Melia – bass and tenor saxes, clarinet
François Lourtie – tenor, alto and soprano saxes, voice
Pierre Mottet – bass
Laurent Delchambre – drums, percussion, objects, samples

With:
Benoît Moerlen – marimba and electronic vibraphone (2, 3, 5-7, 11)
Susan Clynes – vocals (8)

After the release of Machine Mass Trio’s As Real As Thinking and douBt’s Mercy, Pity, Peace and Love in the past couple of years, guitarist extraordinaire Michel Delville returns with his  main band, all-Belgian combo The Wrong Object. Only Delville and drummer Laurent Delchambre remain from the lineup that released Stories from the Shed in 2008: the band has now become a sextet with the addition of four new members, including brilliant keyboardist Antoine Guenet, the leader of avant-metal-jazz outfit Sh.tg.n. (whose self-titled debut was released in 2012), who recently joined RIO/Avant icons Univers Zéro.

One of the most prolific artists signed to Moonjune Records, the label founded by Leonardo Pavkovic in 2001, Delville is an extremely talented guitarist and composer, with a genuinely progressive attitude and a strong commitment to creative music-making. Though The Wrong Object have been in existence for over 10 years, and enjoyed a thriving concert activity all over Europe (witnessed by two live albums, The Unbelievable Truth (recorded in 2005 with the late, great Elton Dean) and Platform One (recorded in 2007 with renowned British jazz musicians Annie Whitehead and Harry Beckett), their studio debut came relatively late with Stories From the Shed – an excellent album drawing on a wide range of sources of inspiration. However, the 5-year break has brought further refinement to the band’s sound, resulting in a quantum leap in terms of quality.

Although Delville is the undisputed band leader and main composer, it would be wrong to assume that The Wrong Object’s sound is dominated by guitar antics. In fact – very much in the way of his Moonjune label mate Dennis Rea of Moraine –  Delville’s presence is surprisingly discreet, often leaving the limelight to the band’s duo of saxophonists, Marti Melia and François Lourtie. Guenet’s keyboards flesh out the tune according to need, adding occasional melodic flourishes or energetic organ runs, while Laurent Delchambre’s versatile drumming and Pierre Mottet’s understated yet nimble bass lines provide a reliable foundation that keeps up effortlessly with the shifts in tempo and mood. Delville’s guitar anchors the album to the rock aesthetics, ramping up the electricity quotient even when keeping almost unobtrusively in the background. Renowned mallet percussionist Benoit Moerlen (of Gong/Gongzilla fame) guests on more than half of the tracks, adding the tinkling, cascading sound of his marimba and electronic vibraphone to the sonic texture.

Spread over nearly 60 minutes, the 11 tracks on After the Exhibition flow naturally in spite of their density. For all its eclecticism, the music is surprisingly cohesive and never comes across as contrived or overdone. Electric flare-ups coexist with intimate, subdued moments in an unpredictable and constantly exciting mix; at the same time, though, is also a more disciplined feel than in Delville’s two previous releases with douBt and Machine Mass Trio.

Opening with the shock tactics of the brisk, exhilarating “Detox Gruel”, propelled by raucous sax with dashes of organ and Delville’s slightly strident guitar, the album’s first half culminates with the unorthodox three-part “suite” of “Jungle Cow”. In over 16 minutes of music, the composition morphs from a collection of sparse, spacey sound effects into an intense sax-and-guitar duel. The 8-minute “Yantra” juxtaposes atmospheric lyricism and heady, almost free-form improvisation with blaring saxes and unleashed guitar, while the jaunty “Spanish Fly” is reminiscent of modern classical composers such as Bartok or Stravinsky, as well as jazz and Middle Eastern music..

The album’s second half is introduced by the jaw-droppingly beautiful “Glass Cubes” interpreted by the elegantly expressive voice of Belgian singer/songwriter Susan Clynes (compared by some to modern jazz icon Annette Peacock), complemented by Guenet’s gorgeous piano and backing vocals – a stylish, magical slice of 21st-century Canterbury sound that hints at the best moments of Hatfield and the North and Soft Machine. The final three numbers feel like an ideal continuation of the mood set by “Glass Cubes”, with definite Canterbury undertones in the sprightly, catchy “Wrong but Not False” and the invigorating, funk-tinged “Flashlight Into Black Hole”, where Pierre Mottet’s bass comes into its own. Wrapping up the album in style, the romantic, Old-World flavour and elegant waltz-like pace of “Stammtisch”, conducted like a conversation between guitar, piano and sax, is briefly interrupted by the instruments interacting chaotically, then calm returns for a slo-mo finale.

With its perfectly balanced running time, After the Exhibition is a true rollercoaster ride of dazzling musicianship coupled with sophisticated flair for melody that tempers and softens the bristling intensity of the album’s more electrifying parts.  Even if the avant-garde component is not as strongly spotlighted as in their previous effort, RIO/Avant fans will find a lot to appreciate in the album, as will lovers of the Canterbury scene, classic jazz-rock, and even psychedelic/space rock. On the other hand, the sheer beauty of “Glass Cubes” might win over those who are more attached to prog’s traditional extended-song format. Highly recommended to everyone, After the Exhibition is an exercise in pure class, and will certainly grace many a “best of 2013” list.

Links:
http://www.wrongobject.com/

http://www.moonjune.com/mjr_web_2013/catalog_mjr/055_THE-WRONG-OBJECT_After-The-Exhibition_MJR055/

Read Full Post »

TRACKLISTING:
1. Cuckoo (9:23)
2. Knowledge (6:09)
3. Let Go (4:54)
4. Khajurao (5:22)
5. Hero (10:13)
6. UFO-RA (6:44)
7. Falling Up (18:03)
8. Palitana Mood (3:05)

LINEUP:
Tony Bianco – drums, loops, percussion
Michel Delville – electric guitar, bouzouki, electronics
Jordi Grognard – tenor sax, bass clarinet, flute, bansuri, electronic tempura

Machine Mass Trio was originally born as a side project of douBt, the electric jazz trio formed by Belgian guitarist Michel Delville whose acclaimed debut album, Never Pet a Burning Dog, was released in 2009 by influential New York-based label Moonjune Records. For this project, Delville and renowned NYC drummer Tony Bianco recruited a rising star of the modern jazz scene, Belgian reedist/saxophonist Jordi Grognard, who is also well-versed in non-Western woodwind instruments. Machine Mass Trio’s debut, As Real As Thinking, recorded live in the studio in October 2010, was released in November 2011 with the support of the Belgian French Community.

Like most of Moonjune Records’ output, As Real As Thinking is definitely not an immediately accessible album – sophisticated and multilayered, yet permeated with a sense of sharp urgency that surfaces when you would least expect it. In a veritable melting pot of diverse influences, the album merges the raw power of free jazz and guitar-based progressive rock à la King Crimson with the heady mysticism of Eastern music filtered through the electronic experimentalism of Krautrock. The three band members alternating in the spotlight or blending their collective strengths together to produce music that is constantly challenging but always rewarding, contribute in equal measure to the success of the final product.

At the core of Machine Mass Trio’s sound lies Tony Bianco’s astonishing drumming, a concentrate of pure energy and flawless time-keeping. He lays down an unflagging beat for the whole 10 minutes of the jammy, deceptively sedate “Hero”, providing a steady rhythmic backdrop for Delville and Grognard’s exertions. On the other hand, in the spectacular 18 minutes of “Falling Up Nº 9” – a tour de force that marries intoxicating psychedelic suggestions with chaotic free-jazz improvisation – he unleashes the pyrotechnics, the drums starting out in a subdued fashion, then gradually gaining intensity, sparring with Delville’s guitar and eerie electronic effects in an exhilarating crescendo.

Delville’s guitar runs the gamut from the blistering riffage of “Let Go”, with its almost metallic edge coupled with Grognard’s unbridled, highly emotional sax, to the intriguingly laid-back textures and staggered rhythms of “Knowledge”. The distinctive sound of the bouzouki, with its haunting, sitar-like twang, replaces the guitar in the Eastern-inspired “Khajurao” (named after the Hindu temple complex famous for its erotic sculptures) and album closer “Palitana Mood” – sinuously intertwining with Grognard’s breathy flutes, discreet percussion and buzzing electronic effects; while “UFO-RA” revolves around Delville’s slightly dissonant synth guitar, emoting over the lively pace set by drums, piano and sax.

A classy blend of stunning technical prowess, energy and creativity, As Real As Thinking is never predictable, and will not disappoint fans of independent labels such as ECM and Cuneiform, which, like Moonjune, comfortably straddle the lines between jazz, avant-garde, world music and progressive rock. In spite of the collective talent gathered here, the album celebrates the joy of unfettered playing, in a spirit that is both collaborative and mindful of each musician’s background and inclination. Though the album may be a daunting prospect for those who prize flowing melodies and carefully structured compositions, it is highly recommended to adventurous listeners and anyone who supports genuinely progressive music-making.

Links:
http://www.myspace.com/machinemasstrio

http://www.moonjune.com

 

Read Full Post »