Back In Your Town 5
19 August 2004, Red Rose Club
With Riaan Vosloo, John Edwards, Ashley Wales, Lol Coxhill, Paul Rutherford, Pete Flood, Pete Marsh
First Half
The musicians take a long time to make their way to the stage, but if the
audience has felt any impatience it’s dissolved immediately by the
shortlived, but dramatic duet between Lol Coxhill on alto and John Edwards
on double bass. It’s a squirrelling, intense exchange soon joined
by drummer Pete Flood’s thundersharp knucklehits. The air above the
stage is strafed by their high-pitched squiggles until the trio begin a
slow descent into anxious nether regions. Riaan Vosloo joins the fray and
he and Edwards pick and grab urgently at their strings creating a harrassed
frenzy while Coxhill now joined by Paul Rutherford’s trombone swoop
and glide like voracious owls in search of prey. It’s as though the
intensity knob has been turned to 10 without passing through 1 to 9. The
music is harsh, detailed, on the run and it’s suddenly being troubled
further by Pete Marsh’s Novation bass station (a monophonic analogue
synthesizer capable of some fine sounds), which slips its leash without
warning. After 10 minutes or so the group stop unexpectedly on the head
of a pin leaving Ashley Wales, seated behind his boxes of tricks, to look
up momentarily surprised. The silence of the others reveals the subtle sound
that he’s been contributing for an indeterminate amount of time. Riaan
Vosloo adds some high-pitched bowing while Pete Flood plays chimes. The
three appear to be painting a pagan, pastoral rite in broad brush strokes
until the music gradually metamorphoses and the whole octet are playing.
Vosloo, Edwards, Rutherford and trumpeter Ian R. Watson provide an ensemble
sound like a resonant tortoise/sea shell, against and through which Coxhill
creates cunning, slanting shapes. It’s impossible to predict what
format the next minute will deliver – if the players don’t know,
how could the audience? One moment, John Edwards will be furiously stabbing
at the double bass, the next he’ll have looked around to his left,
straightened his back and started listening to his colleagues. Thus does
the ensemble reshape and reform: suddenly, but without pause. Coxhill and
Rutherford full of spit and splutter are underscored by Edwards’ bowed
lament until they’re suddenly dive-bombed by Marsh’s bass-station
which is clearly suffering the illusion that it’s a flying saucer
intent on taking no prisoners. It’s not an exaggeration to say that
courtesy of Pete Marsh’s aggressive electric interventions, the ghost
of Herbie Hancock’s 1972 Mwandishi Sextet hovers above the heads of
the players. As Marsh’s ship disappears over the horizon to attack
other settlements, Vosloo and Edwards who had downed bows now return to
the fray plucking a path through the wreckage, Edwards is particularly driven,
animated, intent. Together they provide a churning powerhouse pounded and
pummelled by Pete Flood, electrolised once again by Pete Marsh and seared
by Ian Watson. Throughout this first half, there’s a sense of a binding
group dynamic: each player is undeniably an integral part of the ensemble
but also clearly recognisable as an individual: a big, weird beast with
many heads. As they come to a screeching stop, it’s striking to realise
both that there’s been virtually no delineated rhythm until the very
end and that the intensity hasn’t let up for a moment.
Second Half
After a short break the music begins again with Marsh’s cosmic squelches
serenaded by Rutherford’s warbling trombone. Skyline events, brief
arcs, long, slow descents. The energy is still there, but there’s
more space now, and consequently more time for reflection. It feels very
much like the obverse of the first half. Rutherford experiences an intense
bout of logorrhea to which Pete Flood contributes sudden, dramatic drumrolls
whose fascination lies as much in what is missing from, as what is audible
in, each peal. This is a Flood specialism witnessed in previous Back In
Your Town nights: pinpoint accurate non-repetitiveness and a wilful ability
to ruthlessly excise beats whilst remaining very funky indeed – a
case of being on the .66 if you will. Imagine an identikit picture collaged
by Braque whose utter abstraction mysteriously enables the recognition and
unfailing apprehension of its subject. John Edwards joins in explosively
and the resulting quintet has all the scary power of a particularly violent
bout of epilepsy. Peter Marsh, who has been the motivic, wildcard force
that has prodded this music up an essential notch to become something extra
special, contributes a primal two note bass figure which underscores long,
held tones from his colleages. As Watson manipulates these tones the second
half comes to a natural end.