Caucasus Contradictions

It sounds like a cliché to say that something lies between East and West, but for Caucasus its geographical position between the Black and Caspian Seas guarantees that this literally is the case. Georgia has straddled this balance for centuries but, at least for now, its heart is in the West. The small country has been occupied numerous times by its neighbours and conquerors from further away: the Byzantine Empire, the Arabs from the south, Turkey, Persia, even the Mongols. In 1801, Georgia was annexed to the Russian Empire. Just for a few years after the 1917 Bolshevik revolution in Russia, Georgia enjoyed independence but in 1921 the Red Army marched into Tbilisi, the capital, and again brought the country under Moscow rule where it remained until the breakup of the Soviet Union in the early 1990s. The Soviet dictator Josef Stalin was born in the town of Gori in central Georgia, which guaranteed a special place for the country in the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. Privileged Communist Party bosses would come for rest and recreation on the Black Sea coast.

Less than two years ago Georgia emerged from a short but traumatic war with Russia. The conflict flared up when the little country provoked its much larger northern neighbour regarding two separatist regions, Southern Ossetia and Abhkazia. These separatist enclaves are supported by Russia, partly to irk Georgia, which had aligned itself clearly with the West. There's indication that the Georgian president Mikheil Saakashvili rather naively assumed that NATO would come to the little ally's rescue. This did not happen. As might appear likely to any observer, NATO and the United States would not risk a war with the Russian Federation on behalf of a tiny country in a remote region that until rather recently was part of the Soviet Union. Not even if the little country had whole-heartedly embraced the market liberalization and 'freedom' agenda of George W. Bush. Georgia got a bloody nose and Russia recognized the rebel regions. South Ossetia declared independence. The war triggered a huge flow of refugees adding to the numerous internally displaced persons (IDPs) that already existed as a result of earlier conflicts. August 2008 was not a happy month for Georgia.

Now in the spring of 2010 things looked up again. The issues with the secessionist regions were not solved, IDPs were still a problem (there were close to a quarter million of them) and internal travel remained difficult, but the May sun shone brightly and the country was excitedly awaiting municipal elections. Kura River flowed freely through Tbilisi, its muddy water whirling turbulently on its way down from the mountains surrounding the capital.

When Georgia achieved independence from Russia in the aftermath of the disintegration of the Soviet empire, the first president, Zviad Gamsakhurdia, proved to be short-live: he was deposed off in a coup already in January 1992. He was replaced by Eduard Shevardnadze, who had served as the last foreign minister of the Soviet Union. During his reign, Georgia’s economy largely collapsed and the state was unable to provide basic services, such as electricity, to the citizens. His time in power also solidified the corruption, black marketing and smuggling that continue to thrive to this day. Shevardnadze was thrown out in the popular 'Rose Revolution' of 2003. The new crowd that took over was not apologetic for its distaste for anything that smacked of socialism. The young guns considered any government control or planning as communist legacy. The majority of the new guard that now ruled the republic was in their 30s and 40s, many of them educated in the United States in the heady days of the NeoCons.

The government of this underdeveloped land did not initially even recognize that there was a poverty problem. In their libertarian mindset, the new rulers put priority on overall economic growth, believing that it would be enough for the benefits eventually to trickle down to all people. In fact, they were remarkably successful in instigating economic growth by removing red tape and bureaucracy hindering the private sector and by cutting taxes. Georgia achieved an annual growth rate of some 10 percent over several years. Today in Tbilisi, new construction and renovation of old buildings is ubiquitous. And so are the numerous German luxury cars—MBs, BMWs and Audis—cruising the poorly maintained streets alongside the old Volgas and Ladas. Business thrives, especially in the capital, but not all of it is legitimate by any stretch of imagination.

And the economic juggernaut has not been able to eradicate poverty. Although the government stopped even tracking poverty levels in its firm belief that the wave of liberalization would lift all boats equally, it is obvious that inequality remains and has even increased. A 2007 World Bank study estimated that 24 percent of Georgians were living in poverty. Out of these, 40 percent (translating to almost one in ten of all people in the country) were living in extreme poverty. The 2008 double whammy of the war with Russia, which destroyed much of Georgia’s infrastructure and natural resources and increased the IDP problem, and the onset of the world economic crisis, further exacerbated poverty. The economic development has a geographical dimension and much of the abject poverty is found in the rural areas.

Like everywhere, the Soviet rule resulted in environmental degradation as polluting industries sprouted and natural resources were exploited for the benefit of the new Soviet citizen. These effects were somewhat eased up following the collapse of the Soviet Union, largely because industrial production fell dramatically in most of the former satellites. The downside of this was of course social and economic deprivation in communities that had depended on these industries for their livelihoods. The lack of regulations in today’s Georgia has exerted new pressures on the country’s environment and natural resources. For instance, the government removed any controls with regard to emissions from cars, arguing convincingly that the existence of control and licensing processes only provided opportunities for corruption. But a consequence of this has been that the air pollution from traffic in parts of Tbilisi is quite obvious for anyone taking a stroll.

Also, during the war of 2008, the Russian air force systematically bombed forest reserve areas in the central Georgian mountains causing significant environmental damage.

On the first evening just hours after I had arrived in Tbilisi, my colleague Masa who has spent more time in Georgia undertaking an evaluation of UN programs in the country, met me in the lobby of our small hotel in a residential neighbourhood. He led us out and walked determinedly down the steep street on which we were staying. I tried to keep up with him, skipping between the potholes and trying to avoid tripping in the cracks in the pavement. This was one of the best neighbourhoods in the city, I was informed. A few blocks on, Masa opened an unmarked door on the corner of an old solid looking building and continued down the stairs that led to the cellar. Here we found a large space with solid wooden block tables without tablecloths and a well stocked bar against one wall. The ceiling was held up by thick rock pillars.

In the adjacent room, a middle-aged man was singing the George Harrison tune ‘Something’ against a taped background karaoke style. He looked like an unlikely pop star with his thinning white hair and rather bulky body. He was dressed like a waiter in a white shirt and black vest.

Only a couple of the tables were occupied as we sat down at one. Soon a young woman in blue jeans appeared to take our order. I left it to Masa who ordered an excellent selection of natural cheeses, olives, the freshest vegetables imaginable, and kebabs of juicy minced meat wrapped in thin bread. We washed it all down with a couple of bottles of excellent Georgian red wine. Wine making was one of the few successful industries in the country since the Soviet times.

As the corpulent man continued to sing, it dawned on me that this was the job he had been hired to do; to entertain the guests at this establishment. In fact, he was a very good singer, indeed, and had a seemingly endless repertoire of Western pop songs which he interpreted with understated elegance. At the end of the evening, when I went to tell him how much I had appreciated his performance, it turned out that his spoken English was quite limited, although he had just sung several dozen songs in that language.

The municipal elections were to be the week after my visit and the country was full of excitement. My friend Natya stated the obvious: "The elections are very political." I asked another friend, George (there is no need to protect the innocent: half of the women in Georgia are called Natya and half of the men George) about the likely outcomes. He said he didn't expect any changes because the government controls the media and the political apparatus. George's point was that since the government came in power in 2003, the electoral system has not been open and transparent. This has been clearly confirmed by many outside observers. In fact, following the Rose Revolution, President Saakashvili closed down several independent newspapers and TV stations that opposed his policies. A similar fate befell several NGOs that criticized the laissez-faire policies that did not improve the social and economic situation quickly enough.

On a sunny but windy morning I went for a long walk in the old part of town. The old town is a living city with people residing there, not a museum. Many of the buildings, however, are desperately in need of repair. The walls appear to be crumbling and many houses are heavily tilted this way or that as they rest on the steep streets climbing the hillsides. A peek to the backyards reveals poor living conditions. Skinny cats stared suspiciously at the intruder.

Here and there, however, some of the houses had been recently renovated. A few of them looked truly impressive, with fancy roof terraces and modernized penthouses that were visible as one climbed higher on the slopes. There is a lot of money amongst the poverty. I climbed the Betlemi street-stairs, built in 1850. The climb to the top was very steep and the irregular old stone steps didn't help (nor did my being more out of shape than I had imagined). I passed several old churches along the way, their sharp conical steeples sprouting with green weeds. Georgian Orthodox crosses topped the spires.

About halfway up there was a beautiful rose garden. Then still the final squeeze towards the top of the ridge, which was getting ever steeper. Gnarly pines hung on to the hillside from which grey rocks protruded. The austere slope was lightened up by small yellow flowers and an occasional red poppy that would grow in between the stones. Finally, out of breath and panting, I reached the foot of the huge white statue of the city's guardian saint. She stood tall overlooking the city with her prominent breasts jutting above the valley.

From the top of the hill there was a stunning view over the old city and its red and brown rooftops. The Kura was flowing brown through the centre down in the valley. From this vantage point I could also observe that there was indeed a lot of renovation and new construction going on. In my dehydrated state, I could imagine the pleasure of relaxing on one of the renovated rooftop terraces with a cold drink in hand. These buildings were in a stark contrast to the dire Soviet era suburban blocks that could be seen against the horizon. Thankfully, they had been built rather far on the outskirts of the city to leave the old town in place. At least this way there is still a chance that Tbilisi will achieve its old glorious charm.

On the other side of the ridge away from the city, the landscape opened to green hills. Rows of poplars stood guard protecting the ruins of an old fort. I realized that this was a popular spot for young lovers. Even on this Thursday morning, couples were strolling arms around each other, kissing on secluded benches partly hidden by bushes.

Georgia does play an important role in the great game between the West and the East, especially when it comes to energy. The Baku-Tbilisi-Ceyhan (BTC) pipeline inaugurated in 2005 carries almost a tenth of the world’s oil from the Caspian Sea to the Mediterranean through Turkey while avoiding Russian territory. Although the BTC only passes through Georgia carrying Azeri oil to the West, it still places the transit country into a strategic position, a fact that Georgia intends to capitalize upon to the full extent. Parag Khanna in his recent book The Second World: How Emerging Powers are Redefining Global Competition in the Twenty-first Century quotes a Georgian government adviser as saying: “Now that the West’s energy security depends on our strategic position, it will have to help us get control of the country.” The West's inaction in the 2008 war must have been a disappointment from this point of view.

Energy security is of course very important and competition over the world’s oil resources has been increasing with the emergence of new actors in the game. Especially China is very active in trying to secure fuel for its overheated economy. It has expanded its operations notably into Africa where its companies work to bring home oil and other minerals in exchange of infrastructure development. Russia, which has huge oil and gas reserves of its own, wants to use them to control Europe, especially its old satellites. Americans for their part are in search of oil that would come from more acceptable sources than the less than democratic Gulf Arab countries—not to mention Iran and Venezuela—that hold so much of the black stuff. America’s plans to expand its own oil production through offshore drilling just hit a major hindrance with the explosion of BP’s Deepwater Horizon in the Gulf of Mexico. The unmitigated disaster graphically showed the risks of drilling to the environment and local economy, energizing the opponents of the oil economy. The Caspian Sea falls smack in the middle of these rivalries. Although Georgia is not itself oil producing, its position as a transit country does give it a bargaining chip.

The walk down from the hilltop with the huge white saviour saint was easier, although it was necessary to watch your step when descending the steep and uneven old stone stairs. It was still early and not quite lunchtime. I was hot and tired from the walk under the blazing sun, so I decided to enter one of the several churches lining the Kura river. The beautiful church was indeed cool inside and the darkness was restful to the eyes. Despite the soothing silence, the church was teeming with people. The Georgian Orthodox faith is alive and well and plays an important role in many people’s lives. Georgians are proud of the fact that the country was amongst the first ones to adopt Christianity as the official state religion. Caucasus itself is a religious mosaic. In the neighbourhood, most nations except Georgia and Armenia adhere to a different creed. Turkey, Iran, Azerbaijan and the southern Russian regions, such as the troubled land of Chechnya, are all Islamic.

Inside the church, worshippers were moving from one altar to the next, lighting candles in front of shrines devoted to various saints. There were equally many young people as old. The younger ones wore their Western street cloths, but the women had covered their heads and arms with scarves. Many of the older women wore all black. Despite the crowd, the scene was tranquil. The gold in the many beautiful icons glistened in the flickering candlelight.

Once outside, I found a shady table on a terrace in a small mall with several restaurants clustered in the semi-closed open courtyard. I ordered a tall glass of ice water, which I gulped down before selecting a chicken salad and a glass of dry white wine for lunch. The mall was clearly newly built, but the style fit nicely with the old neighbourhood by the riverside. Little by little people started to come in until after a while all the tables in the restaurants were occupied. There were a couple of foreigners—a Norwegian father and son enjoying a cold beer after sightseeing; a British businessman directing a deal on the cell phone while sipping wine—but almost all of the people were locals. Almost all were also youngish, elegantly dressed and well groomed, smoking and chatting while waiting for their lunches. Presumably they were workers from offices and shops located in and around the mall. Sitting here, I had to remind myself that this was a post-conflict country where one quarter of the people lived in absolute poverty.

It has proved challenging for the United Nations to find a proper niche and to promote human development in Georgia, especially as the government has not been very susceptible to ideas that target specific poor and vulnerable groups for assistance. The 2008 Georgia Human Development Report, The Reforms and Beyond, prepared under the auspices of UNDP, identifies a number of areas where creation of wealth is not enough to guarantee human development. On the political front, it is important to ensure rule of law and to reign in corruption. Social issues, such as health and education are equally important, as is environmental quality. Lately, the government has become more inclined to address specific social problems, notably the very high unemployment rate, that mar the country.

The elections came and went without any troubles and with few surprises. The Council of Europe that sent observers to the elections commended Georgia for significant progress towards international electoral standards, although in some regions systemic problems, such as ballot box stuffing, were still reported. As my new buddy, George, had predicted, no major changes took place. But as he said, the key should be to keep a cordial relationship with Russia. Whatever happens in Georgia, the neighbours are going to stay and they are big and aggressive.

Florent Ghys @ Noguchi Museum, 13 June 2010

As the rain was nearing, the performance was moved inside from the lovely sculpture garden. It was probably better for the music anyway.The main room with Isamu Noguchi’s works is wonderful in its own right. The Noguchi Museum is one of my favourite places in New York and it was the perfect setting for this afternoon’s concert with the French composer and bassist Florent Ghys. The young man was a new acquaintance to us, but being a part of the adventurous Bang on a Can collective was enough of a recommendation for Yoko and me to take the bus-subway combination to Queens. A decent sized crowd had gathered at the museum for the event, lounging on the floor between the sculptures.

Florent Ghys stood in the corner of the spacious room alone with his bass and laptop computer. The bass itself was a stripped down version of a double bass, electrically amplified without the wooden body. Florent, who is classically trained and has played with the Paris Opera Orchestra, would today play his own music, which combines elements from contemporary music, rock, jazz and electronic. For the following 70 minutes we, together with the entire audience, would sit transfixed by the enticing sounds of Florent Ghys.

While the bass was naturally in the leading role, the composer used it in a very interesting way. In many pieces, Florent Ghys would set up an ostinato or a pattern that he would play on the bass, either bowing or picking the strings, while recording it on the laptop. He would then let the computer repeat the recorded piece while he would lay over textures or a melody on top of it. Many of the melodies he created were truly beautiful. As a highly skilled bassist, he would play them high on the strings making the big instrument sound like a cello.

In between the pieces, all of which were clearly circumscribed and never extended beyond their predefined extent, Florent would communicate with the audience in a shy and friendly manner. He would tell a few words about the pieces and express his joy at playing in this beautiful place.

Not all of the music was instantly played and replayed on location. Some of the background tracks had been recorded in advance by the composer himself. They contained mainly percussion and some bits with guitar. On several tracks he used voice samples. These were mostly in French (for which he modestly apologized to the American audience) but one was in English and another one in Japanese. Apparently, he was not sure what the Japanese text was about, so he asked whether there was anyone in the audience who could tell. A Japanese woman with short spiked hair and big white-framed sunglasses said it was about bad news, which again brought out a ‘sorry’ from the composer. (According to Yoko it was actually about local elections, which may or may not be bad news.)

One of the best pieces included an American weather report as a voice track around which Ghys had composed the music. According to Florent himself, weather reports (alongside things like hair dryers, numbers, girls and blinkers) are amongst his interests. The melody he bowed on top of the music and the weather report had a melancholy beauty that was quintessentially French.

Perhaps the most interesting moment to me was rather early on in the concert. It was a composition built around a sampled French woman’s voice. In the middle of the piece when the woman continued speaking all other music stopped and Florent followed the melody and rhythm of her speech on the bow. The effect was unique and demonstrated both the tonality of the French language and Ghys’ impeccable ear.

There was a surprising variety to the music. Some tunes were rather avant-garde exploring the harmonies of the strings. Others had a pulse that made you want to tap your foot, even if the time was not always straightforward. One of the last pieces combined both. It was, the composer explained, the first piece ever in which he had sampled a speech that had a political message (as opposed to, say, a weather report). This one was about closing down of factories and consequent lay-offs plaguing France.

What a delightful event this was. The music was both captivating and innovative. Florent Ghys is a composer and musician whose explorations I am sure to follow in the future.

Kings of Convenience @ Warsaw, 4 June 2010

The Norwegian duo had packed the Polish National Home, Warsaw, in Brooklyn's Greenpoint on this Friday night. The demographics of the audience were somewhat unusual, with a preponderance of geeks and oriental girls. Of course, there were also a large number of tall blond Norwegians and other Nordic types amongst those crowding in front of the stage. It struck me that Yoko and I fit quite neatly in at least two of these categories. I went to the bar to get us cups of white wine and as I returned I found that there had been a further condensation of the throng close to the stage and I had to push myself through to reach Yoko in their midst.

I had been aware of the Kings of Convenience for a long time and I had listened to their CDs, Versus and Quiet is the New Loud, which we had at home. We also had the solo disc, Unrest, of Erlend Øye who together with Erik Glambek Bøe forms the duo. But although I had found these records to be generally good and quite soothing, they always were more Yoko's music than mine. Neither was I aware that the Kings had such a following even here in the States, so I was surprised at the whistling and girls screaming when Erlend Øye modestly showed up on the stage just to announce the warm-up act.

So the concert started with Franklin for Short, a less known band from Ventura, California, performing for the first time on the East Coast on this Kings of Convenience tour. As Erik Glambek Bøe would later say, Franklin for Short is their favourite American band, for now. And I could see why. Franklin for Short was quite fresh with an early-1970s spirit in their music (think The Beatles, Beach Boys, The Byrds, with a heavier Indie rock sound) that extended to their appearances. The bearded lead singer/guitarist, Seth Petterson, wearing a baseball cap, had the air of the Beach Boys after they had abandoned the clean look of the 1960s. The bass player Trevor Beld's style was that of George Harrison of All Things Must Pass period, with skinny white pants and a beard as long as his hair. Even the instruments reflected the bygone era. The lead guitarist Bryan Russell played a green Fender Telecaster, while Beld used a white Fender Mustang, which he plucked very skilfully with his thumb. But the most impressive was the set-up of the long-haired keyboardist, Matt Barks, with a drooping moustache, who in addition to a vintage looking keyboard had a theremin hooked up in front of him. All in all the quintet's music was quite engaging, with with better than average vocals and definitely better than average melodies. I only found the drummer Brian Granillo to be a bit heavy handed, but there was a nice variety in the arrangements.

Then finally the boys from Bergen came on stage accompanied by wild screams and applause from the audience. From the moment they launched into their first song (which they announced as playing their first song), they held the rapt attention of the audience throughout the lengthy and rather low volume concert. It was just the two of them and their acoustic guitars, Erlend on steel strings and Erik on nylon strings. The music was interspersed by low key banter by the two friends in their heavy Norwegian accents. Erik apologized for their concert starting 15 minutes late and told that Guns and Roses had just been to Bergen and that their concert started 3 hours late: “Everything is so big in America.” They played their known songs that had been modest hits, such as ‘I Don’t Know What I Can Save You From,’ as well as numbers from their new album, Declaration of Dependence. At times they sounded like young Simon and Garfunkel with quiet songs and close harmonies. Apart from mellow love songs, their lyrics would reflect a modesty that is quite rare on this side of the Atlantic (“Failure is always the best way to learn…”). At times, they’d be quite riotous, as far as one could be with just two acoustic guitars. In the song ‘The Girl from Back Then,’ Erik cooked a lively jazz beat with a strong bass on his guitar, while Erlend jumped behind the grand piano. The result was a very nice jazzy jam. Frequently, the mood turned Latin with Erlend playing solo against Erik’s thick Bossa Nova chords. At one dramatic moment, which the boys made their best to hype up in their deadpan way, they switched instruments, both of them testifying how liberating it was after having had their specific roles in the duo for a decade. But the switch was only for one song before they were back with their own guitars in hand.

It is hard to pinpoint why the music of the Kings of Convenience is truly so appealing. I guess it has to do with many factors, not least that the songs are really very good (as my friend Jussi observed, “the boys play nice music”). But it also has to do with the fact that Erik and Erlend are deceptively good musicians. They both play the guitar amazingly well and the arrangements for the two acoustic instruments are very imaginative indeed, making them sound like a larger instrumentation. It also helps that the fellows are genuinely sympathetic and clearly are having a good time on stage.

Towards the end of the concert, they invited Franklin for Short back. From that moment on the mood again changed as the music was fortified with the electric instruments and drums. Erlend, who at that time was liberated from the guitar hanging around his neck, danced around goofily with his red hair swaying above the bespectacled face as he craned his long neck to the reggae tinged beats. He also went back to the piano and added some well-placed accents to the music. Franklin for Short proved their own skills as musicians, having mastered the intricacies of the Kings of Convenience songs. The audience was dancing along and reacted enthusiastically when asked whether they’d want to hear another song (Erik: “Good, because we wanted to play one more song”). When the concert finally ended, I could see only happy faces streaming out to the warm Brooklyn night.

Chick Corea with Hubert Laws @ Blue Note, May 13, 2010

The fact that Chick Corea can pack New York’s Blue Note club for 24 shows over a two-week period is firm proof, if any was needed, that he remains a jazz superstar. The theme was ‘Further Explorations of Bill Evans’ and Corea had for the occasion put together a trio with two important Evans alumni: Paul Motian played drums with the pianist’s legendary trio since 1959 till 1964; Eddie Gomez became the chosen bass player for Evans in 1966 and stayed with the maestro for eleven years recording a number of classic trio and duo recordings.

On selected evenings of this month’s Blue Note gig, the trio was supplemented by stellar guest artists, such as Joe Lovano, Greg Osby and John Scofield. I timed my concert going to the evening when the guest soloist was the flutist Hubert Laws, an early hero since I was a boy back in Helsinki. This was actually the first time I’d ever heard Laws live, as the gentleman is not a frequent sight at even New York’s best and foremost jazz venues. Apart from having had an outstanding career as a studio musician and the preferred flautist to producers such as Quincy Jones, Laws has released some twenty records under his own name (many of them, I must admit, fall under the category of smooth jazz, some borderline schmaltz). He has also played solo flute with top-notch classical orchestras, such as the New York Philharmonic and the Metropolitan Opera. His records Afro-Classic and The Rite of Spring, released in 1970 and 1972 respectively, in which he combined his classical acumen with jazz arrangements, were cherished treasures to me when I was studying the flute.

So I was appropriately excited when the band walked down the stairs of the legendary West Village club onto the stage in front of a packed audience. Corea, who will turn 69 in June, appeared as boyish and communicative as ever. He stood up to introduce the band—each member of which has been a leader in his own right—including Laws with whom he said he’d been buddies since the 1960s. Then he simply announced that, “This is a jam session. We’re going to start with something.” He sat behind the piano and started a lively solo, which the band joined in after just a brief intro. Laws initially took the lead melody but the band soon settled into a mood that would permeate the evening.

While all of the players are virtuosos in their instruments, none of them would dominate. The music was distinctly characterized by collective interplay where all players would closely listen to each other and keenly react to impulses emanating from their band mates. Throughout the concert, Paul Motian would keep a low profile avoiding any flashy displays, rather sensitively contributing to the music with delicate accents. The music played this evening would be light as a feather.

After the first tune, Corea and Laws apparently felt that the flute microphone wasn’t turned high enough in the mix. The leader got up and told the soundman in a thick fake foreign accent, “The flute player need more flute.” Once the volume was adjusted, Corea continued joking, “The flute player will now play solo flute.”

What followed was one of the high points of the evening for me. The piano led the band into a light medium waltz, which I soon recognized as the familiar and wonderful Bill Evans piece ‘Waltz for Debby’ from half a century ago. Laws played the lovely melody with a beautiful tone. With Hubert Laws, you don’t expect vocalizing or any of the other gimmicks so common with many jazz flutists; just smooth and beautiful playing with a fluid technique. His tone is thick like Gazzelloni’s and his double and triple tonguing as facile as Rampal’s. Indeed, Laws’ flute playing sounds so light and easy that it belies the complexity and skill.

Next, Corea explained that they would now try to play a Bill Evans tune that they had just discovered on a tape and transcribed this week. He said shrugging that it had simply been titled ‘Song #1’ on the tape. It turned out to be an exquisite ballad with a melody that fit perfectly the band’s harmonic combination of flute, piano and bass.

The next number was introduced by Gomez skilfully bowing his bass in a classically-inspired solo, which at times sounded like a cello as he climbed high on neck. The solo then morphed into a dramatic tango rhythm into which the rest of the band joined. This to me would be the second high point of the show. The band explored the piece from various angles and in his solo Corea himself brought out the unmistakably Moorish roots of the Argentinean music. The atmosphere intensified, as the players ventured outside of the strictures of the genre, the Puerto Rican born bass player slapping the strings before switching back to his French style bow, again bringing order to the dance.

The remaining two numbers were more mainstream jazz. Hubert Laws played both somewhat unusually on a piccolo. The first, a medium swing, was light and good humoured. Finally, a fast be-bop version of the standard ‘What is This Thing Called Love?’ brought the concert to a satisfying close.

Yukari @ Tea Lounge, 21 April 2010

Flute is my thing, so when I learn about new flutists on the scene I always head out to check them out. Yukari has been around for a while and has actually produced several CDs under her own name (the latest one, Dreams, is just about to be released and features recording artists such as Greg Osby). I’ve heard her play in bands and in a private party. Recently I’ve also come to know her personally. However, I had never heard her own band live before I listened to her at the Tea Lounge in Brooklyn last month. It has to be said that she is very versatile and plays many kinds of music—from jazz to pop to classical—so the Brooklyn performance was but one example of her many sides.

The Tea Lounge in Brooklyn's Park Slope neighbourhood is an eclectic place with a variety of comfy sofas for folks to lounge in and a well stocked bar (‘tea’ in this case has to be understood more broadly than just referring to the stuff brewed from the leaves of the evergreen bush grown in Asian highlands). When I entered from the rain outside, the place was already crowded, so I settled into the bar to wait for my buddy Nanthi to arrive. Not all people in the spacious joint were there for the musical experience, but as the evening wore on I noticed that a solid following had gathered at the back of the room where the band would play.

Tonight’s band consisted of a trio, with Yukari on the flute, Mike Pride on drums and Peter Bitenc on double bass. The two lengthy sets remained interesting throughout despite the limited instrumentation and no-one providing chordal accompaniment. This of course is testimony to the creativity of the players. Yukari herself is a highly skilled flautist. Since moving to New York from her native Japan, Yukari studied at the Manhattan School of Music and has played with many of the city’s premier young jazz players.

The repertoire of the evening ranged from free improvisation to be-bop tinged contemporary pieces. Most were Yukari’s own compositions, although one or two standards made it into the mix, including one Ellington ballad, which showcased the flutist’s beautiful sound. The mood in the dimly lit cozy café was warm and enthusiastic as the audience witnessed the performance of this highly original new force in jazz flute.

Tomasz Stánko New Quintet @ Birdland, April 13, 2010

In Europe, Tomasz Stanko is a legend. The Polish trumpeter has been around as a composer and band leader in the forefront of modern jazz since the 1960s. He made it big in the 1970s when he co-led a highly innovative orchestra with the late Finnish percussionist Edward Wesala. When my friends and I headed to the famous Birdland club on a mid-April evening, I wasn’t sure what to expect and whether the audiences on this side of the Atlantic would be equally familiar with Stanko. I needn’t have worried. While the place wasn’t exactly packed, most of the tables were filling up quickly. I could hear Polish and Finnish spoken.

Tomasz Stanko is often compared to Miles Davis, whom he is also said to admire. There are distinct similarities in their rather sparse and thoughtful style of playing, Another particular parallel between the two is that both musicians have been known to be sharp-eyed scouts and cultivators of new talent. Stanko’s new quintet that he brought to New York consisted of four young Nordics joining the leader: two Finns—Alexi Tuomarila on piano and Olavi Louhivuori on drums—and two Danes—Jakob Bro on guitar and Anders Christensen on electric bass. As we would find out, the band was already very cohesive and created its own distinct sound around Stanko’s compositions.

The concert basically featured songs from the new Tomasz Stanko Quintet CD, Dark Eyes, released on ECM in 2009. Stanko stood in his tennis shoes at the centre of the stage wearing a hat and all grey clothing. He would not once communicate verbally with the audience during the concert, which started with the rubato theme of ‘So Nice’ played in unison by trumpet, piano and guitar. The piece would then gradually break up into a slow and lyrical solo by Tuomarila, his playing clearly reminiscent of Keith Jarrett.

The rubato melody starting a song, often played in unison, is a Stanko trademark and several numbers in the concert followed that formula. Stanko’s melodies contain a haunting beauty. His music is introspective and rather dark, belying his Slavic background. It is definitely northern European and perfectly fits the ethereal ECM trademark sound. This doesn’t mean that Stanko’s music doesn’t have a groove. On the contrary. But it is different from the blues based harmonies and syncopated rhythms of American jazz.

Alexi Tuomarila received the first real applause of the evening following a crisp and thoughtful solo that reminded me of the playing of another ECM pianist, Richie Beirach. After a couple of more soft tunes which Louhivuori backed with brushes, the band started a tune based on a one note bass pick. Bro played a Scofield-inspired solo on his Telecaster on top of the vamp. Then the trumpet entered with a high growl that was the most exuberant that Stanko had played thus far in the evening. An inspired piano solo followed and the temperature in the room rose noticeably.

This was followed with yet another rubato passage with a unison theme by the entire band. Then Tuomarila started a vamp in the lower section of the piano. The drums followed with an enthusiastic, light but steady beat on top of which the trumpet and guitar played a catchy melody. This was ‘Grand Central’, perhaps the most memorable piece in the entire evening.

My friend Nanthi commented how he was startled to discover similarities in the tonalities and rhythms of Stanko’s Slavic dances with those of his own native Sri Lanka. This was a new connection to me as well.

The next tune, ‘Samba Nova’, continued in similarly festive mood. It started with a long rubato segment before settling into a soft bossa nova rhythm. Louhivuori’s light and nuanced percussions ensured there was not a dull moment. The tune provided one of the rare opportunities in the evening for Jakob Bro to solo. His guitar solo was clean with no gimmickry.

‘The Dark Eyes of Martha Hirsch’, a slow tune with oriental overtones brought a new twist to the repertoire. It highlighted the baseball cap wearing Anders Christensen, who played an oddly low keysolo on his bass guitar. His sound was quite without resonance and the solo left me cold. Apparently, both of the Danes see their role as adding to the sound of the band, rather than shining as soloists. Both seem to approach their stringed instruments more from an intellectual rather than emotional perspective.

Another one chord romp followed. Then came a tune with an actual straight jazz rhythm and walking bass plucked by Christensen on his electric instrument. The solos by Stanko, Bro and Tuomarila were short and controlled. This was one of the most enjoyable moments of the concert.

Clearly some of the most inspired playing this evening (and I’m not saying this as their compatriot) came from the Finns. Louhivuori’s percussions were sensitive and musical throughout the evening and, at best, his beats were truly intense. The most sparkling solos were no doubt provided by the young Tuomarila who increasingly found his own style as the evening progressed. He follows in the intellectual tradition of Bill Evans and Keith Jarrett, thoughtfully developing his solos with a beautiful sense of melody. He also possesses an admirable technical facility.

All in all, this was a beautiful and satisfying concert, but despite the intensity of the faster jams there was strangely little what could be described as ‘physical’. Although the program was paced with the quiet segments intercepting the upbeat sections with fine solos, I afterwards found it difficult to distinguish between the different pieces. That was probably the intention, to create a whole that flows seamlessly from one part to the next. Stanko melodies have great brooding beauty, which make even the more joyous romps feel a bit melancholy. I do think that his new quintet is one of the more cohesive and interesting working bands around these days. And that’s a lot.

Randy Weston's African Rhythms Quintet

Randy Weston is one of the first and foremost American artists to convincingly incorporate African sounds into the jazz vocabulary. Wait a minute, you might think, African sounds and rhythms have been around in jazz for a long time. Well, so has Randy Weston. The concert at New York’s Jazz Standard club I heard on April 8th, 2010, was part of the weeklong 84th birthday celebration of the maestro. The last time I had heard Weston live was during his 80th birthday celebration at the same venue.

Although jazz has its roots in Africa, it is a quintessentially American invention. The roots were dug up a long time ago, replanted in the soil of the new continent, and cross fertilized with implants from many other traditions. True, band leaders and composers like the great Duke Ellington inserted African influences into their music, like the Duke’s 'Black and Tan Fantasy.' But this was not African music. The real exotic influences from Africa and the Middle East were really introduced only by men like Randy Weston and Yusef Lateef starting in the 1950s.

The big man—Randy Weston stands 2.03 metres (6ft8) tall—came on stage and sat behind the grand piano. The solo introduction soon led to a slow blues in 3/4 tempo in which his long-time band, African Rhythms Quintet, joined, all five musicians donning white African Muslim style caps. The crisp-toned alto saxophone of TK Blue took the lead in stating the theme of the tune and continued with a lively solo. The band’s rhythm section differs from the average jazz combo as it does not include a regular drum kit. Instead, Neil Clarke sat behind three large congas surrounded with cymbals and other percussion instruments. Another feature that makes the rhythm section distinctive is the presence of Alex Blake, another long-term Weston collaborator whose work on the double bass is just unique. In a world full of amazing bass players, I am not aware of anyone else quite like Alex Blake. In these hands, the slow tune soon developed a tension that forced me to sit on the edge of my high bar stool.

Following the alto solo, Randy Weston himself began a solo using distinctly North African tonalities. He was on firm ground, having studied the region’s music for the past half a century. The atmosphere was ripe with Saharan winds as Weston hit the keys carefully choosing the notes using a scale that contained the telltale 1.5 step intervals. As the tension further increased, Blake and Clarke would alternate the slow tempo with sudden bursts of double time.

Sitting down on a low stool and hanging onto the fretboard high above his head, Blake picked the strings with the four fingers of his right hand. He slapped the thick strings and beat the big instrument as if it were a flamenco guitar. At the times I’ve seen him perform, I’ve always feared that any time one or more of his fingertips would just be severed and fly across the room.

The second tune, 'Saucer Eyes,' also started with Mr. Weston’s solo piano introduction. This time it displayed clear ragtime influences, as the leader launched into some mean stride piano. Like all real music reformers, Randy Weston is deeply aware of the history of jazz and stands firmly on the shoulders of his predecessors. The song turned more into a conventional jazz tune, with Neil Clarke playing the role of a conventional drummer with a cymbal ride above the congas. Alex Blake slapped his bass irreverently in the up-tempo piece. The tune also gave the opportunity to the trombonist, Benny Powell, to join in and to show his chops. Again, TK Blue took a solo, his clear alto soaring with references to well-known classics such as 'Take the A Train' and 'St. Thomas.'

Randy Weston was born in Brooklyn in 1926. He is a New Yorker who grew up listening to American piano jazz à la Fats Waller and Duke Ellington (he even recorded their songs in the 1950s) and, later, Thelonius Monk. You can still hear this tradition clearly in his playing.

But his adventurous mind led him to explore other musical styles. At the end of World War II, Weston was sent to the Pacific Theatre where he served as staff sergeant in the Philippines and Okinawa. This experience exposed him to Asian music, which in these archipelagos has a particular flavour and rhythm. In the late-1950s, he started exploring the integration of African musical forms into jazz. Already at that time he created a number of highly original and to my ear extremely successful fusion records, such as Uhuru Afrika and Highlife celebrating the newly independent African states. During those years, Randy Weston travelled to West Africa, visiting countries such as Nigeria and Ghana to study their music and culture.

In fact, Randy Weston clearly sees the connection between jazz and its African roots. According to him, there is no contradiction between the tribal traditions found in the villages of West Africa and the urban culture of New York. This is demonstrated, for example, by his masterful composition, 'African Village Bedford-Stuyvesant,' featured on the wonderful double LP The Spirits of Our Ancestors recorded in 1991. The album features a 9-piece jazz band amended with African percussion and instruments, such as the stringed genbri and karkaba metal castanets, all arranged by Weston’s long-time musical partner Melba Liston who regretfully passed away in 1999. The music benefits from guest appearances by two other great musicians who have sought to expand the geographical limits of expression, Dizzy Gillespie and Pharaoh Sanders.

Like all tunes that recent Thursday evening, the next one also started with the leader’s solo piano. Randy Weston again introduced new elements in his prelude to 'African Sunrise.' Playing a powerful bass with his left hand, Weston combined liberally traditional jazz elements with atonal quirks reminiscent of Monk. After the lengthy introduction, the trombone joined the piano in a low ostinato that evolved into a slow Latin tinged rhythm in 7/4. The alto again took the lead, backed by Blake’s bass and Clarke’s conga and maracas.

The next tune was a ballad featuring the horns. TK Blue’s alto was this time so old-fashioned lyrical that one could imagine sitting in a smoky Harlem jazz den of the 1940s. Alex Blake’s bass highlighted the big instrument’s amazing melodic and percussive possibilities in the right hands.

My first introduction to Randy Weston’s music was his 1972 album Blue Moses. I remember as a young schoolboy visiting the NK record store in Stockholm with my mother and choosing this album based on the intriguing concept that the cover and the names of the tunes conveyed. I also recognized the sidemen listed on the jacket. They included both established veterans, like Freddie Hubbard and Ron Carter, as well as rising stars of the calibre of Billy Cobham and Grover Washington, Jr. Perhaps most importantly, the cover informed me that the group included Hubert Laws, who was a great idol and inspiration to me as an aspiring flute player. While the record was a Creed Taylor production on his successful CTI label, there was nothing too sleek or superficial about it. The music was raw and its North African influences unapologetic. Don Sebesky's arrangements featured more instruments than most of jazz orchestras, including such unusual additions as oboe and the French horn.

Randy Weston himself played the Fender Rhodes throughout the record, which somewhat oddly did not distract from the genuineness of the music. On the contrary, the reverb of the Rhodes produced a haunting atmosphere in the rubato parts of the music against which the vocalist Madame Meddah could wail her Berber voice. At times when exotic rhythms took over, the Rhodes sounded more like a West African balaphone.

The interplay between Carter and Cobham is impeccable, the latter refraining from displaying his most showman-like pyrotechnics. The trumpet, tenor and—yes!—the flute all play inspired solos. Still today, the record holds a central place in my collection and, every time I listen to it, I get the goose bumps when, after a complex rhythmic element on the title track, Cobham cracks the rim of his snare drum indicating the beginning of the most swinging straight drive ever and Hubbard dives into a broad-sounded trumpet solo. Or when the electric piano intro of 'Night in Medina' turns into a compelling slow melody played by the horns, with Laws’ flute and percussionist Airto Moreira’s voice hovering mysteriously around it. Yes, indeed, Blue Moses is still just about the best record ever made.

A number of years ago, I was lucky to catch Randy Weston at the World Financial Centre in downtown Manhattan. That time he had brought with him a group of Gnawa musicians from Morocco to supplement the African Rhythms Quintet. The vast atrium with its evergreen winter garden and huge windows giving to the Hudson River and skylights allowing sunlight in from the blue sky was an appropriate location for the music that really should have been played outdoors. The Gnawa are a Moroccan ethnic group belonging to the Sufi Muslim sect known for their music that involves hypnotic rhythms, call-and-response vocals and string instruments.

The concert turned into a riot. The mood was so celebratory that Randy Weston himself, dressed in a flowing Berber gown and wearing a white North African cap, spent more time dancing with a big smile on his face to the music of the Gnawa than playing the piano. I remember that my wife Yoko and I went home completely exhilarated and exhausted, although it was only afternoon and no other stimulants had been involved apart from the music and the general joy.

Back at Jazz Standard, the final full piece the band played was another slow blues in 3/4 time, with Alex Blake producing rubbery glissandos on his bass. As the concert ended and the big man rose from his piano chair, TK Blue finally picked up his flute. Throughout the concert I had watched longingly at the flute and soprano saxophone that he had brought with him to the stage. Alas, he had until now chosen to focus on the alto. This was the first set in the series and I am sure he’d play more on the smaller winds later in the week. At least I was happy to hear the husky flute blow against the slow North African rhythm as the gentleman we had come to celebrate walked backstage.

I truly wish for many, many more happy birthdays to celebrate with the musical force and genius of Randy Weston.