Sarah McKenzie

The first set was my last for this year’s Stonnington Jazz. A family commitment meant I had to leave before Paul Williamson and Friends, and could not make it to the Sunday gig with David Jones and Friends. I was not all that happy with my photographic efforts for this “last” gig. I was probably already switching out of festival mode and into family mode for my dad’s 90th birthday bash next day.

Sarah McKenzie Sextet

The sextet line-up was Sarah McKenzie on piano and vocals, Pat Thiele on trumpet, Carlo Barbaro on tenor sax, Hugh Stuckey on guitar, Sam Anning on bass and Craig Simon on drums.

Hugh Stuckey and Sam Anning

Pat Thiele

Hugh Stuckey and Carlo Barbaro

They played McKenzie originals Blues for Monty, Don’t tempt me and I got the blues tonight, as well as Cole Porter’s You’d be so nice to come home to, Sammy Fain’s That old feeling, and Duke Ellington’s Solitude.

Sarah McKenzie

McKenzie graduated from WAAPA with a Bachelor of Jazz (Composition) and has won a string of awards — the Jack Bendat Scholarship, the Hawaiian Award for “Most Outstanding Jazz Graduate”, the Perth Jazz Societies Award for the “Most Outstanding Group of the Year for 2008” and the 2009 James Morrison Scholarship for vocals (after being a finalist in the scholarship for six years).

Pat Thiele and Sarah McKenzie

As I’ve said previously, vocals are not my first preference when it comes to improvised music, but I regard each vocalist I hear as an opportunity to be educated. So what can I say about McKenzie’s performance? I think it is a big plus that her renditions of her original pieces had the same feel as the Cole Porter and Ellington classics, because the heritage of Ella Fitzgerald and Billie Holiday do seem important to this 22-year-old singer. Close your eyes and listen to McKenzie and it could be a much older woman singing, there is such power, depth and maturity in the voice. There is also warmth and conviction — when McKenzie sings “You’d be so nice to come home to”, she sings as if she has someone in mind. You know it’s not you, but you wish, in that moment, that it could be. That is a sign of how well the singer is projecting the feeling. And clearly McKenzie, as was evident when she sang In My Solitude, is not scared of emotion. She seems to be quite an open person, at least in her stage persona, and that is engaging.

Sarah McKenzie

McKenzie’s style of piano is expressive but forceful and that goes well with the hard-driving energy of the sextet. This is robust jazz and it will appeal to audiences who like strong grooves and a swingin’ vibe. McKenzie has the appeal — often people make a point of saying that she has the talent to match her looks — to be an ambassador for jazz. But should that burden be placed on a young musician who simply loves to perform?

New York Bound: Sam Anning

McKenzie announced after her first song that Sam Anning — who was not playing at quite all the Stonnington Jazz concerts — has won a full scholarship to the Manhattan School of Music in New York, NY. Congratulations to Sam. His departure will leave a huge gap in Melbourne and many bands will miss him. The Sarah McKenzie Sextet will be one of those.

Sarah McKenzie

Hurren, Anning and Bates

It would have been a great way to end a festival, but on Friday night there was still one night to go. I chose to break the rule about not switching gigs midstream. Usually it’s hard to acclimatise to a change of venue and leaving in a rush to catch another band can be a big mistake. This time it worked out. But it left me with a burning question: How could Sam Anning have played bass with Zac Hurren (saxophone) and Sam Bates (drums) at the Chapel, and then dash to Malvern Town Hall for a complete change of mood, playing with Joe Chindamo‘s ensemble? I’d have liked to ask him what went on inside his head as he moved from one gig to the next.

Hurren, Anning and Bates

Anyway, I have no time to beat about the bush, so this is the gist of it: Zac and the two Sams were faaannnnntastic! Absolutely on fire. Brilliant. Hurren said he usually stands by the trees and plays by himself, and that was how he wanted to start. It was a short warm-up solo and then the trio was off and running.

Hurren and Anning

What was so good about it? It’s still in my head, but I’m not sure I can easily explain. It was cathartic. It was a physical experience. But I don’t want to give the idea that Hurren just blasted away and filled the Chapel with noise, or that Bates smashed and crashed on the drums, or that Anning drove his bass notes remorselessly through the audience. There was an element of that, but all three displayed much more sensitivity than that. They played as a unit and were totally cohesive. The result was primal and managed to penetrate deep into the body and into the soul. Bates displayed great finesse and sensitivity, Hurren and Anning were a tangible force brimming with emotion.

Hurren, Anning and Bates

They played Hurren’s compositions Joffra, Conveyance (written the night before the funeral of saxophonist and teacher Tony Hobbs ), a newish track the name of which I did not catch, and Mark’s Mansion (written to represent saxophonist Mark Simmonds‘s defence of jazz against the forces of evil). They wanted to play more, but had to stop. I wanted more but had to go. And of course Sam Anning had to slip into the Stonnington stretch limo and wind down for a few minutes before joining Joe Chindamo on stage for the second set at Malvern Town Hall.

Hurren, Anning and Bates

A quick note: The gigs I missed — Ted Vining‘s Impressions and Tina Harrod — deserve mention, but I could not make it. And I’d heard Tina Harrod at Bennetts Lane recently. She was great there, so I’m sure her set was enjoyed by all. On to the town hall …

JOE CHINDAMO’S COEN BROTHERS PROJECT
at Malvern Town Hall

Joe Chindamo

I can’t do this concert justice either, but a few sentences for now. It was the inaugural performance of the Coen Brothers material, and an album launch for Another Place, Some Other Time. Chindamo has assembled Lucky Oceans on pedal steel guitar, Geoff Hughes on guitars, Kristian Winther on violin, Sam Anning (again) on (yes) acoustic bass, Raj Jayaweera buried behind on drums and Alex Pertout also in the back on percussion.

Kristian Winther

Geoff Hughes

Winther was exquisite on violin, Oceans added something special on pedal steel and Hughes was, as always, most expressive. Chindamo’s piano has the presence and sense of space, as well as a classical feel, to capture and hold us in a moment (or many) of beauty.

Joe Chindamo and Lucky Oceans

Lucky Oceans

In the seconds before I fall into a coma from lack of sleep, the standouts for me were the theme from Fargo (as interpreted by Chindamo, of course), Man of Constant Sorrow (from O’ Brother Where Art Thou?), Lujon from The Big Lebowski, and the theme from Miller’s Crossing. Later, You Are My Sunshine was divine, with Chindamo on accordion and Oceans on pedal steel. Earlier Oceans played slide guitar on Hotel California (The Big Lebowski), but you had to wait for the familiar melody to drift through.

Kristian Winther

After the theme from Blood Simple, Joe played a solo piano encore, Goodnight Sweetheart (I should have known, but had to be told).

Sam Anning and Kristian Winther

It was not my favourite Stonnington venue, but this was a beautiful concert and a fitting tribute to films in which music plays a big part. Chindamo’s take on the Coen Brothers’ film music was entrancing. There was no need for any moving images.

In the groove: Bernie Mcgann

As usual, Adrian Jackson creates added interest by nudging artists into new situations — e.g. Vince Jones adding lyrics to Australian instrumental compositions — or facilitating meetings of musicians that ought to have occurred, but have not so far.

New combo: McGann and Wilson

I was convinced that I had seen alto saxophonist Bernie McGann play with Julien Wilson at Stonnington Jazz previously, but of course it was McGann with Jamie Oehlers in May 2008, also at Stonnington and also at Chapel Off Chapel, that was niggling at the edge of my failing memory.

Fitzgibbon, Anning, Wilson and McGann

One of the larger-than-life figures of Australian jazz, McGann had not played with Wilson until Tuesday night. The program suggested Wilson would be invited to join McGann and the ensemble — Sam Anning on acoustic bass, Allan Browne on drums and Mark Fitzgibbon on piano — for the second set, but Wilson came on for the second piece of the night, the ballad Wendy by “late, great sax player Paul Desmond“, as McGann put it.

On fire: Allan Browne

In a short set — it seemed so — that began with Monk and ended with McGann’s Spirit Song, the trio and guests treated us to a no-frills exposition of energetic and elegant, rhythmically rich grooves that were an ideal way to showcase the two saxophonists. There was no fuss, just accomplished playing that carried each piece forward in a way that was totally engrossing.

Anning and Browne

Browne seemed to be on fire from the start, if that can describe his apparent ease — he denies it — and evident joy. Add Fitzgibbon’s drive and Anning’s warmth and you have music that is deeply satisfying.

McGann and Wilson

And what of the saxes? They are quite different stylistically. McGann does not move much as he plays, managing nonetheless to break out in those moments we all wait for in any solo, but without much more than a twitch or a slight incline of the instrument to show what the sound is saying so clearly. Wilson’s emotional input is more overt, which I like in any musician, but when listening is paramount — closing the eyes helps — the difference is inconsequential. Both players can express so much, but they don’t fuss about it. Here is Wilson, playing with a fellow saxophonist who he has long regarded as an inspiration, and he is just getting on with it. Playing with Bernie McGann seems to rule out anything overly dramatic.

Together at last: McGann and Wilson

The second set began with Tin Tin Deo, by Dizzy Gillespie and Cuban Chano Pozo, with Browne and Fitzgibbon driving forward to meet melodic contributions later from McGann and Wilson, followed by two ballads, The Talk of the Town (featuring McGann) and Laura (featuring Wilson). Browne was full-on in McGann’s Brownsville, which was exciting, and the set closed with another McGann composition, D. Day.

This may have been just another night for a musician with the experience of McGann, but surely it must have been uplifting for him to play with a younger saxophonist of Wilson’s calibre. It was for the audience.

Two sets, two eras. Allan Browne took us back in time with his favourite in jazz combinations, the trio. Then, with his quintet and his usual devilry, he showed us the beauty of an interlude in hell. Or was it a glimpse of heaven?

Margie Lou Dyer, Allan Browne, Jo Stevenson

The audiences at Stonnington Jazz seem to be more advanced in years than those at, say, Melbourne Jazz Fringe Festival or Melbourne International Jazz Festival, though I have no hard data on that. So the first set of traditionally flavoured classics from Jelly Roll Morton, George Lewis and Duke Ellington may have been the main attraction of the afternoon. I met my wife, Debra, at the Lord Napier jazz pub in Thornton Heath, south of London years ago, but that was much more brassy, bold and full-on than what we heard from Al Browne, his wife Margie Lou Dyer on piano and vocals, and Jo Stevenson on clarinet and bass saxophone. This was light, bright and full of fun, zest and whimsy.

Allan Browne and Margie Lou Dyer

As always, Browne’s drum work was relaxed and reflected his obvious sense of enjoyment in the occasion and the music. Dyer’s smoky vocals carried us into a dimly lit nightclub and Stevenson’s lyrical clarinet streamed notes as fluid as quicksilver. There was plenty of energy, but no bid to blast us away or smash and crash. This was a delightfully sensitive interpretation of the music that Browne first loved, played by musicians steeped in that tradition and with a long history of playing together.

The trio — Al Browne said it was his favourite form — began with Bogalosa Stomp (Sam Morgan), then played Morton’s Buddy Bolden’s Blues (Morton), High Society, Sidewalk Blues (Morton) and Mood Indigo, a Duke Ellington tribute to clarinetist Barney Bigard.

Browne on washboard

For Oriental Man (referred to in earlier days as “Ornamental Pan”, the pride of the dunny, Browne related), the drummer took up the washboard, emulating his hero Baby Dodds, and it was a hoot. Stevenson played soprano sax on Dyer’s commissioned calypso Bechet, which she said was related to “people who took their clothes off to fast music”.

Vintage clarinet: Jo Stevenson

Stevenson’s clarinet was shining in George Lewis‘s Burgundy St Blues, before Dyer delivered a suitably gravelly rendition of Gimme a Pig Foot (Bessie Smith).

Trio joins quintet

And in augmented finale, quintet members Geoff Hughes (guitar), Phil Noy (alto sax), Eugene Ball (trumpet) and Nick Haywood (bass) joined the trio, with Stevenson switching to bass saxophone, for the fun-filled, exuberant Magpie Stomp (Browne).

Jo Stevenson digs deep

After our trip to toe-tapping, swinging New orleans, it was time to go to hell.

UNE SAISON EN ENFER (A SEASON IN HELL)
Allan Browne Quintet

The quintet played this suite in the order replicated on the album. There are eight compositions, four each by Eugene Ball and Geoff Hughes. The only possible criticism, IMHO, is that if this represents hell, or the torment of Arthur Rimbaud as he fled across Europe with lover Paul Verlaine, it is more benign than I had imagined. That’s not meant to be flippant — before hearing this music (on CD) I had expected passages that would be hard to take because they were drawn from images of a harrowing, horrifying inferno. Instead, though this is undeniably dark music — as Browne said, “It’s very dark. We like it dark.” — it is often beautiful, reflective or wistful in mood rather than being in any way difficult to enjoy.

That said, the suite is superb and a worthy successor to The Drunken Boat, which is also based on the verse of Rimbaud. And I must now read Une Saison en Enfer, to explore how it has inspired Ball and Hughes, and the quintet. For reasons known only to themselves, a number of patrons felt compelled to walk out during this set. They may have had commitments, or they may not have liked this style of music. But it is a pity the seating design at Chapel Off Chapel does not allow for people to leave without walking down through the audience and across in front of the musicians. This was a piece of music that deserved to be experienced without interruption.

In Nuit de l’enfer, Hughes’s solo guitar was great, but seemed too pleasant for an inferno. Song from the Highest Tower opened regally and included an exquisite solo by Phil Noy. And Browne’s use of what looked like long springs to produce a sharp, metallic sound from the cymbals was effective over Hughes’s guitar. Embers of Silk was appropriately serene, with Ball in splendidly resonant flight.

A real highlight for me was I Dance the Sabbath and Chorale, with some fine interplay between the trumpet and sax. If anything, Ball seemed more constrained in his trumpet attacks than on the recording. Sleepwalker saw Noy move to baritone sax. Hughes’s solo was great in this piece. A Life Too Light brought the set to a close.

I’m not sure whether it was the crowd or the venue or both, or my fertile imagination, but I did not feel there was a real buzz of appreciation for this set, which I thought was exquisite, despite the absence of any gnashing of teeth. But this was an afternoon of music that ideally suited the 50-year career of an unassuming musician who has the ability to make his presence felt through the lightest, most tender of touches and the greatest of poetic passions. And Allan Browne never takes himself too seriously.

Browne reminded us a few times about his residency at Bennetts Lane on Mondays, and that on August 1 at Uptown Jazz Cafe in the afternoon there will be a launch of the album Une Season en Enfer. And on August 8 at Bennetts Lane at 2pm the Red Onions Jazz Band will hold an informal reunion to mark its 50th anniversary.

Heartfelt: Vince Jones

Yes Stonnington Jazz is off and running. Vince Jones sang his heart out in the opening concert, adding lyrics to original compositions by Australian musicians. The emotion was written all over Vince’s face and he sang with conviction, even tackling political issues to a degree that had Stonnington’s young mayor, Tim Smith, convinced the songs came from Mao’s Little Red Book.

Artistic director of the festival, Adrian Jackson, reminded us it was Stonnington Jazz’s fifth year before Jones came on stage with Aaron Flower on guitar, Simon Barker on drums, Ben Waples on bass and musical director for the evening Matt McMahon on piano. As usual in one of Jackson’s festivals, it was an interesting concept, with Jones adding lyrics to “absolutely beautiful songs” by Australian musicians.

So how did it work? Well, I may as well be up front about my general preference for music without words, though that’s an individual thing. I just find most often that I love the music between the vocals more than the words, which bring an obligation to worry about the meaning. But that’s irrelevant to how Jones and guests performed at Malvern Town Hall.

Vince Jones

Some longstanding fans of Vince Jones — and there are plenty — told me he did more singing at this concert than at earlier gigs. It was, after all, his opportunity to create a songbook. I’m not sure Jones’s voice is all that strong, particularly in the higher registers, so I found him most impressive in his conviction and presence. It’s a hackneyed phrase to say someone wears their heart on their sleeve, but Jones can definitely move an audience. And I am always impressed by a singer who makes no apology for taking on controversial issues in their lyrics — it’s honest and it’s unashamedly a bid to challenge the audience with the power of the ideas.

Julien Wilson

Jones opened with The Three Sisters (Jones/Barney McAll), which was about three women he met during a uranium mining protest in Arnhem Land. It worked well enough, but This Is The Woman (Jones/McMahon), written about his mother, seemed to have some twee lines in the lyrics. The Doug De Vries classic The Nature of Power, with Julien Wilson joining in on saxophone, seemed once again to suit Jones, and his question about the absence of a modern Tolstoy, Martin Luther King or Gandhi was poignant. A stab at George W. Bush came in Luncheon with The President, and again this worked well. Jones has a naivety and sincerity that allows him to sing “hate is the absence of love” and “lies are the absence of truth” in a way that resists cynicism.

Mike Nock, Dale Barlow and Vince Jones

Mike Nock on piano and Dale Barlow on flute joined in for The Rainbow Cake (Grabowsky/Jones). Then came a first-set highlight — Nock’s composition from the album Dark and Curious, Embracing You, with Nock on piano. This was a moving piece and suited Jones’s empathetic vocals, as did the final song before the break, Blue — which followed Coloured Strands featuring a solo by Flower. There is something frank and earnest (and this is not a reference to the radio show) about Vince Jones and it comes across best in a ballad.

Vince Jones on flugelhorn

I’ve rabbited on too long, but the second set began with the global environment song Jettison, with the message that we are the captains of this green pearl we call Earth and we can stave off the inevitable. I liked the emotion, but thought Jones’s voice was not quite strong enough to carry the message. Reconciled, including a great piano solo from Matt McMahon, was a ballad ideal for Jones’s vocals.

Ben Waples

We Let Them Do It (McMahon/Jones) was inspired by Nigerian poet and environmental activist Ken Saro-Wiwa, who with nine others was hanged by Nigerian dictator General Abacha in 1995 for fighting against oil companies Mobil, Chevron, Texaco and Shell. The rhythmic strength of McMahon, Waples and Barker was ideally suited to the message, and Flower contributed a strong solo over Barker’s drums.

Dale Barlow and, behind, Aaron Flower

Dale Barlow soloed on his composition The Glass House, and then Julien Wilson returned for a solo in his piece The Rebellious Bird, with Jones’s lyrics effective: “… deride me, displace me, still I will rise”.

Swingin’: Mike Nock

Mike Nock led a lesson in swing, helped by Dale Barlow on sax, in Can’t Afford to Lose (Jones/B. McAll), leaving few across the crowded town hall who were not moving some part of their anatomy to the beat.

Jones on Nock watch

Then Jones, after listing a host of musicians he has valued greatly, including bassist the late Gary Costello, sang My Baby Comes To Me, inspired by musician Russell Smith, who I think suffered the loss of a daughter in an accident. To me this was the most beautiful song of the night, with Waples’ bass giving strength while McMahon’s piano allowed for sadness.

It was a great close to the Australian Songbook.

The audience seemed a little reluctant to call the musicians back, but Jones and McMahon responded with the simply powerful Call Me (Jones/Mcmahon) as an encore.

Stonnington Jazz started well. Ausjazz blog will cover many of the gigs at this festival, which runs until May 30. For details of concerts, visit the festival website.

Jones et al