Thursday, March 18, 2004
Music twisted with skills
TALLINN, Von Krahl – people have put their chairs in the middle of the dance floor. It is the scene of avant-garde movement. Audience looks scared as if the stage is waiting them to be swallowed into the new dimensions of the music. No more may the harmony be predetermined by the human’s passion and will.
Brochard brings out his contrabass. Immediately, his “metal” hand starts to saw the wood into pieces of discord. The Frenchman is embullient, but his interpretation leaves no sign of the emotions. We hear the sound of the didgeridoo as the last reverberation of the human soul. The music turns into a story composed of squeaking tunes which appear in reverse order. One man beside me shouted out:”The pig has appeared in a new form!”. The chairs in the bar are creaking with the sounds of the mutineer. We can hear the explosions. The opposing directions meet in the crossroad. Brochard’s hand strokes slowly the warm strings with the bow. The battle scene is filled with monotonous melody. Suddenly, the listeners raise their heads. Is it really human voice in the avant-garde machinery room? It sounds like David Hykes. But there is no meditation. Brochard pushed the wrong button - he whistles with his throat to accompany the cry of the contrabass. There are no traditions kept in the free-style jazz. Brochard would be invisible without the capital of his skills. In the end, we can sense the Jewish intuition in the presentation of the sad story. But the music is still too eclectic to follow a certain ideology. Lamentation stops with no final solution. Brochard cools down the strings of his contrabass and takes a rest.
Next to show up is Ramon Lopez. The Spanish percussion master fills the space with interchange of bellicosity and peace-loving course. One could percieve the fusion of echoing noises as an extra harmony. The uncontrollable phon humanises the avant-garde mode. Lopez presents the urban mood with the unordinary sounds of the percussions. The audience remains silent. There is no time given to culmination. The bass and the bells are boring. Then the colourful tunes appear. The soundless hi-hat takes us to a print-house where plates meet the papers. The audience is far from feeling the touch of the beat. We want to dance, but there’s no space given to the listener. Lopez starts a rock n’ roll theme. He gives the tunes more robust pulse. His left hand bounds from the snare into the air to show his self-confidence on the stage. The Spanish drummer looks like Elvis Presley in bullfighter’s arena. Good composition. Twenty minutes have passed. Lopez disappears.
After a little break the international trio comes together: Eric Brochard, Ramon Lopez and Jaak Sooäär. The space is filled with ambient sounds of Sooäär’s guitar. The journey starts with faces looking into different directions. This time, the Estonian takes the lead. Jaak Sooäär gives no time for the southerners to intercourse. In the background of the be-bop intro the drums play a protest and contrabass continues the old weeping song. The trio is very skillful in timing. They hardly ever communicate with each other. The music becomes stormy. Everything changes very fast. We want to dance. We have the rhythm but perceive no emotions. People are happy to hear bossanova for five seconds. But it was not a mean. The musicians oil the machines and enter the next field of their eclectic interpretations. They have proved themselves in the avant-garde movement by being able to compromise fast. The music stops without the final jam session. It was a short show. At least we can’t remember having experienced the beauty of the music.
Although we recognise the amazing information flow, we are scared of the technical perfectness. Avant-garde jazz makes the listeners re-value the human skills. What else could reflect the soul of the musician? Maybe, the mistakes that occur with passion.
Brochard brings out his contrabass. Immediately, his “metal” hand starts to saw the wood into pieces of discord. The Frenchman is embullient, but his interpretation leaves no sign of the emotions. We hear the sound of the didgeridoo as the last reverberation of the human soul. The music turns into a story composed of squeaking tunes which appear in reverse order. One man beside me shouted out:”The pig has appeared in a new form!”. The chairs in the bar are creaking with the sounds of the mutineer. We can hear the explosions. The opposing directions meet in the crossroad. Brochard’s hand strokes slowly the warm strings with the bow. The battle scene is filled with monotonous melody. Suddenly, the listeners raise their heads. Is it really human voice in the avant-garde machinery room? It sounds like David Hykes. But there is no meditation. Brochard pushed the wrong button - he whistles with his throat to accompany the cry of the contrabass. There are no traditions kept in the free-style jazz. Brochard would be invisible without the capital of his skills. In the end, we can sense the Jewish intuition in the presentation of the sad story. But the music is still too eclectic to follow a certain ideology. Lamentation stops with no final solution. Brochard cools down the strings of his contrabass and takes a rest.
Next to show up is Ramon Lopez. The Spanish percussion master fills the space with interchange of bellicosity and peace-loving course. One could percieve the fusion of echoing noises as an extra harmony. The uncontrollable phon humanises the avant-garde mode. Lopez presents the urban mood with the unordinary sounds of the percussions. The audience remains silent. There is no time given to culmination. The bass and the bells are boring. Then the colourful tunes appear. The soundless hi-hat takes us to a print-house where plates meet the papers. The audience is far from feeling the touch of the beat. We want to dance, but there’s no space given to the listener. Lopez starts a rock n’ roll theme. He gives the tunes more robust pulse. His left hand bounds from the snare into the air to show his self-confidence on the stage. The Spanish drummer looks like Elvis Presley in bullfighter’s arena. Good composition. Twenty minutes have passed. Lopez disappears.
After a little break the international trio comes together: Eric Brochard, Ramon Lopez and Jaak Sooäär. The space is filled with ambient sounds of Sooäär’s guitar. The journey starts with faces looking into different directions. This time, the Estonian takes the lead. Jaak Sooäär gives no time for the southerners to intercourse. In the background of the be-bop intro the drums play a protest and contrabass continues the old weeping song. The trio is very skillful in timing. They hardly ever communicate with each other. The music becomes stormy. Everything changes very fast. We want to dance. We have the rhythm but perceive no emotions. People are happy to hear bossanova for five seconds. But it was not a mean. The musicians oil the machines and enter the next field of their eclectic interpretations. They have proved themselves in the avant-garde movement by being able to compromise fast. The music stops without the final jam session. It was a short show. At least we can’t remember having experienced the beauty of the music.
Although we recognise the amazing information flow, we are scared of the technical perfectness. Avant-garde jazz makes the listeners re-value the human skills. What else could reflect the soul of the musician? Maybe, the mistakes that occur with passion.
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