19th Annual Vancouver International Jazz Festival
June 25th - July 4th, 2004

Anatomy of a Festival:

There's always a first time for everything — so the old adage sez. England, August 1961. All of us in the first blush of manhood, and off we go from Bristol in guitarist Rod St. Rose's 1958 yellow Ford Fairlane 500 convertible. My first ride in an American car. The destination, the 6th Beaulieu Jazz Festival at the estate of the jazz-loving Lord Montagu. My first festival. Anita O'Day, Hans Koller, Johnny Dankworth, Joe Harriott, Tubby Hayes and Chris Barber were the musicians I recollect. The music, often only half-heard, is part of a larger celebration, a joyous gathering, a sense of independence. Good beer at the local pub, an introduction to herbal remedy and a nearby beach, made this a memorable, if a somewhat rainy weekend.

Newport, Rhode Island, USA. Thursday July 1st, 1965. The opening night of the legendary Newport Jazz Festival featured Muddy Waters Blues Band, Memphis Slim, the Dizzy Gillespie Quintet, the Les McCann Trio and the Modern Jazz Quartet. Continuously on the same stage. A festive consciousness pervades this east coast seaside town. Spread out in front of the large stage is seating for 12,000; directly in front, "the pit" where musicians and press congregate. Around the perimeter blue and white tents acting as miniature beer halls, hotdog stands, hamburger helpers; American fare.

And then over the years the Mariposa Folk Festival (Canada), Moers (Germany), Bracknell (England), Chicago (USA)… all events taking place outdoors, in large fields, attendance in the thousands. Jazz on a Summer's Day. In open sided tents are numerous commodity hawkers providing food, drinks, recordings, tee-shirts, paraphernalia; a general hubbub of camaraderie. Not always the most conducive atmosphere for intense listening, but the social milieu perfect for friends of like intent. In much the same way as the passing of the jazz club, the disappearance of the old style festival signals a fundamental change in the needs of the audiences. This was clearly illustrated on the opening night of the 19th International Vancouver Jazz Festival.

In three quite distinct theatre venues, all designed for concentrated listening, three separate "stars"; Oscar Peterson — on a very rare visit — sold out weeks in advance; Joe Lovano's trio three parts full, and Dave Douglas much the same. So how did we come from the old fashioned social idea of a festival, to the current one of numerous venues spread about the city; ranging through parks, street shows, concert halls, art galleries, cafés, bars, after-hours lofts, filled too full with too much.

Given that this city festival is moving between the verities and nullities of pleasing the broad spectrum of some 460,000 people — from those seeking simple pleasure to analytical deconstructionists — there is still space allocated to the new, the surprising; the individualists who have created special paths.

You are cordially invited…

The pre-festival "invitation only" party, with music by Dr. Lonnie Smith and Crash, takes place at the grand refurbished Commodore Ballroom. However we find ourselves 40 kilometers across the Georgia Strait in Nanaimo, at The Queen's, a legendary biker bar, celebrating an evening from the 20th Anniversary tour of the fabulous funksters; the Shuffle Demons. Old mates from back east, who provided an enticing warm-up for the ensuing ten days in Vancouver, and whetted our appetites to seek out some good old-fashioned modern jazz.

Bebop Downtown:

The pretentiously named "The Centre for the Performing Arts", a large glitter-vulgar modern concert venue, somewhat dwarfed the trio of Joe Lovano. In spite of the unbalanced proportions the sound is crystal clear, and Lovano is in top form, opening with a tribute to all the great players who have passed over into the spirit world. "A Day Like Any Other", for Billy Higgins, immediately illustrates the history from which Lovano draws his inspiration; Sonny Rollins being the most apparent, with the Hawk, Dexter, and Trane looking over his shoulder. Two appropriately named tunes, as though sending ghostly messages, were "Birds Eye View" and the Gillespie ballad "I Waited For You", demonstrating his superior knowledge of the jazz language. A swinger and balladeer capable of moving to the very outskirts of melody. A show by a new/old master I would say — although encumbered by pedantic accompaniment — that in my youth would have been a week-long gig at the Colonial Tavern. Oh how I yearn for those days!

Early Evening on the East Side:

For a number of years my sense of direction has been altered because Western Front is located in the east part of the city. Intentional I suspect. The philosophy of the Front has, in numerous disciplines, always tended toward the audacious, and pianist Marilyn Lerner fits well into this concept. For the past 20 years her journey has taken many musical paths: classical, jazz, Yiddish, a little latin, and now in this period, solo. From such a gentle beginning, already a tad dissonant, a ballad perhaps flowering rhapsodically, she scurries off into plucked harp interiors. And then, and then again, that giant instrument's echoing voice softly etched with impressionistic fluidity, travelling through private imaginings. A mesmeric peering within a tranquil space inclined toward Debussy and Satie rather than Monk. Jagged Romance.

Further East:

The Vancouver East Cultural Centre is a venue with wonderful character, what we would describe as suitably seedy; filled with secret familiars. Tonight Paul Plimley, Canada's premier avant pianist, who last year in partnership with bassist Mark Helias, was one of that festival's highlights, expanded into a trio with the startling talents of sound colourist Michael Vacher. Romance is in the air, still jagged, though lushly expanded, on occasion the minuscule details becoming the entire delicate melody, breathing out into internal swing. Three naturally generous human beings presenting a delicacy beyond careful.

The double bill is Henneman Strings meet Zubot and Dawson. Dutch improvised music with Vancouver hoe-down, which was often comedic and obliging. An example of opposite worlds hanging out in public. Somewhat of a curate's egg.

Back at the Front:

There is so much beauty in string quartet music, and this continuum of Ig Henneman, quite removed from the preceding night's performance, is inspired by traditional Italian music and visual art. The quartet of herself, Oene van Geel, Alex Waterman and Mark Helias replacing the indisposed Wilbert de Joode, benefits from the acoustics of the Front's chamber, a perfect sound box for the clarity of this music. Each piece is explained with a story by Ig, a personal touch, gathering the audience into her world. The reciprocity is entirely obvious, producing a music that appears not overly complex, or perhaps the masterful abilities of these players make it seem so. Their dance of bows, strings and various size wooden boxes moves assuredly through finely etched compositions ranging in character from plaintive melancholy to ribald absurd swing figures, always with the traditional spirit of the string quartet intact, but being sung with a contemporary voice.

Educational Outreach:

That Al Neil should be chosen as the first subject to be video-interviewed for this other-than-performance portion of the festival, should come as no surprise. For me as the interviewer this provided a morning of great pleasure, a chance to spend time with an old friend — 80 this year — talking about his-story, one that recounted a most important step in west coast jazz. The results of this venture are eventually to be available for research and historical clarification. Other subjects covered under this project, titled "Open Your Mind's Ear", was writer Bill Shoemaker blindfold testing Dave Douglas, the long standing workshops dealing with assorted styles and perspectives, the jazz journalists panel discussion, a High School jazz intensive under the direction of AACM "Jazz Master" Mwata Bowden, and two awards presented by the CBC for the "best of the new" judged by a "panel of experts". All intended to provide other levels of information and stimulation.

Just for Fun:

Back at the Front for a most joyful expedition of Italian improvised music provided by cellist/electronics wiz Walter Prati and long time companion trombonist Giancarlo Schiaffini, aggrandizing their reception by utilizing a classic 1913 surreal silent film entitled "The Extraordinary Adventures of Saturnino Fararandola". An early example of absurd cinema, best described as Around the Planet of the Apes in Sixty Minutes.

Soul Survivors was a great title for the Commodore evening show that featured three elderly gentlemen from an era when jazz was considered funky get-down dance music. Les McCann was our initial reason for being there, Cornell Dupree a bonus, but the exuberant tenor saxophone playing of Ernie Watts stole the show. Based mostly on simple riffs — "Bags Groove", "Things Ain't What They Used To Be", "Mercy, Mercy, Mercy"… — they inundated us with that good old time feeling, which could not even be destroyed by the rock sozzled brains of the venue's so called "sound man".

The Americans are coming:

Occasionally there arrives in jazz music a powerful figure who is not only a great player but a leader and promoter. Bassist William Parker is one such person, and with his powerful quartet featuring the inspired alto saxophone work of Rob Brown, the potent trumpet playing of Lewis Barnes, and the phenomenal percussion mastery of Hamid Drake, they produced the shout/holler blues that is sadly lacking in much of today's American jazz. Capturing the exuberance of Ornette and Trane, extending that history with such clarity and joyfulness, they gave us an evening of genuine exciting old fashioned free jazz. Marlon Brando died this day!

The other New York band, under the leadership of trumpeter Herb Robertson, presented his "Aberration Suite", illustrating other experiences emanating from the Big Apple, another imagery: skittering newspapers caught in the wind, the rattle-clatter subway, a certain hustle-bustle, a sparse brittle landscape with gloomy tenement flanked streets. Scenes of the city, all brought to fruition by saxophonist Tim Berne, pianist Sylvie Courvoisier, bassist Mark Dresser and drummer Tom Rainey. Scary dark stories sending some audience members skedaddling.

Upping the Ante:

"What tremors ran though Adolphe Sax the day Bean picked up his axe" is a paraphrased line from a Ted Jones poem, and might well express the feelings of fans of British improvised music at the arrival of virtuoso saxophonist Evan Parker. He played four concerts with divergent agendas beginning with the wonderful aggregation of himself, Prati and Schiaffini, plus his own "rhythm" team of bassist John Edwards and percussionist Mark Saunders. In combinations of duos, a trio and culminating with the quintet, they produced music with exquisite multiple internal melodies and rhythms coalescing into a perfect musical language, the smaller combinations boxing with sound in the fluidity of embrace, to the final collective surging power. The two recitals with pick-up groups, especially with a string project, which benefited from the strong violin leadership of Mark Feldman, did not altogether achieve the heights of the previous event, although as expected with such high-class companions, there were always moments of brilliance. The final night, the farewell party, could not have ended on a higher note, with the exceptional trio of the old master and the developed language of his younger companions, illustrating the forty year old tradition of free improvisation with close listening and rapid interaction. A most joyful finale.

So there you have it, a personal selection of music from a much larger festival. As always there is a first time for everything, so next summer I recommend that you head to the 20th Vancouver International Jazz Festival.