


 
  Shining + Jaga Jazzist
    Mean Fiddler, 1st June 2005
  Shining’s set tonight is generally recognisable from 
    ‘In the Kingdom Of Kitsch You Will Be A Monster’, their endearingly 
    titled debut for Norwegian new music label Rune Grammofon. Shining was a longstanding 
    parallel project for Jorgen Munkeby and Morten Qvenild who recently left Jaga 
    Jazzist to devote their energies to it fulltime. Their role as support act 
    tonight indicates clearly that the two bands remain on amicable terms. Their 
    music is a vigorously played collage of genres with styles alternately colliding 
    or melding with each other. One moment they’re playing operatic rock 
    replete with howling wolverines – at least that’s the impression 
    – next it’s turn-on-a-dime prog-jazz. If the preponderance of 
    hyphens in that previous sentence is noteworthy, it’s also entirely 
    appropriate in mirroring the additive nature of Shining’s music. At 
    the same time if you’ve ever bent a plastic ruler or spoon up to and 
    beyond breaking point - and in the process keenly felt its tensile strength 
    - then you’ll appreciate what Shining do to the genres they explore. 
    The group are powered along by Torstein Lofthus, who plays his drums like 
    dray horses on an amphetamine-fuelled rampage. The ragged nature of the group’s 
    live set proves welcome after the slightly too pristine studio recording of 
    ‘Monster’. The only doubt about the experience is something that 
    isn’t really their fault. Norway has birthed so much inventive, innovative 
    music in recent years that it’s possible to experience a sense of hybrid 
    fatigue. As a result Shining might have to work harder than otherwise to overcome 
    the feeling of cultural exhaustion their energetic fusion may engender in 
    some of its potential audience. 
    
    After a short break Jaga Jazzist take the stage (at time of writing there’s 
    some debate whether the group are now simply called Jaga or not – in 
    interview the group’s primary composer, Lars Horntveth, declares confidently 
    they’re retaining the Jaggist part of their name). After a number of 
    one-off gigs since their initial visit to the Spitz in 2002, this is the first 
    time the 10-piece have undertaken a full UK tour and they kick it off with 
    gusto. The group present a fascinating conundrum in their exploration of jazz/not 
    jazz, rock/not rock, dance/not dance and so on. Their compositions are brimful 
    of hummable, difficult to forget melodies. The more robust of these are rousingly 
    anthemic, particularly when performed live. An early example is their second 
    track tonight, Stardust Hotel, in which the music overflows with such genuine 
    warmth and affection that it’s surprising the audience don’t dig 
    out their lighters and raise them aloft. On For All You Happy People, they’re 
    confident enough to play ambient passages and gently layer elements until 
    they achieve an ears-pinned-back climax. As with Shining, drummer Martin Horntveth 
    is a human dynamo powering the group forward, his rhythms are challenging, 
    densely-packed affairs that are surprisingly complex and challenging to dance 
    to. He takes on the role of announcer with enthusiasm, addressing the audience 
    between songs with sweat running in rivulets down his face. Martin’s 
    brother Lars turns and smiles sincerely at various members of the group – 
    it’s an endearing sight that underlines the sense of familial support 
    hinted at by the tight performance of the ensemble. Even more appealing is 
    a brief passage in which the whole group lay down their instruments and sing 
    acapella with outspoken sincerity. Jaga Jazzist play three – or was 
    it four? – encores. Each one greeted rapturously by the audience. 
    
    It’s possible to sense an innate tension at various points through the 
    evening between the group’s tightly orchestrated compositions and the 
    impressive enthusiasm with which they play. Jaga Jazzist’s performance 
    appears to tremble on the verge of cathartic dissolution, but it never quite 
    tips over into chaos. Added to the unusual nature and format of their music, 
    this pivotal strain between organisation and chaos may just be their defining 
    attribute.
  Colin Buttimer
  Published by Milkfactory