Lost and found dept. (video)

 

Anthony Braxton Quartet - Live in Châteauvallon 1973

- Also known, in this case, as the Pure Pleasure dept: I first discovered this video a couple of years ago, at which time I was of course still "dormant" (at least in terms of my blogging activity); and despite its obvious limitations - sub-par video transfer from an old TV broadcast; incomplete concert - I have no hesitation now in recommending it to anyone who hasn't already seen it.

This, you see, is B's "lost quartet", a group that he never managed to get into the studio (as he lamented to Graham Lock, just over a decade later) - but for a brief period during 1973, his working group: Kenny Wheeler on small brass*, J-F Jenny-Clark on bass (I don't seem to be able to avoid tripping over this guy just lately**), Charles "Bobo" Shaw on drums... B. remembered fondly what a good group this was; obviously Wheeler continued in the band until 1976, overlapping briefly with George Lewis, and Shaw would be back in 1977, but "Jif" never did get a second crack of the whip and there are all too few recordings of this band - meaning that (unlike, say, the much-circulated "lost quintet" of Miles Davis) they remain B's lost quartet. Indeed, when I say all too few recordings - this is actually the only concert I have ever come across, which doesn't prove that there are no others, but a quick check of the index for my tape trove confirms that, indeed, I personally have no other recordings of this vintage awaiting me.

I originally posted about this recording (in audio-only form, at the time) way back in December 2007, still in the first phase of the Braxtothon (though no longer quite in the first flush of excitement surrounding it); actually that was dealt with in two parts for whatever reason. A few years later, having inherited the aforementioned tape collection, I discovered a copy of this same concert on CD-R in the box, and probably promised (I vaguely remember doing so) to upload a rip of it - to replace the long-gone audio which had once accompanied the write-up; but I never got round to doing that (and don't currently have anything on which to rip a CD... sorry***). At the time of my original post, I was not able to put opus numbers to all of the pieces played in the set; but it's clear that what was on the audio recording was longer than what we have here. After all, the video begins with B. picking up the flute... which means we are about to hear (the piece now known as) Comp. 23c... which means we are absolutely not at the beginning of the performance. (A comment on the video's page describes a longer version of the concert beginning with Comp. 23a and then Comp. 6f - I can't immediately confirm or deny that, but the Kelvin repetition structure (now known as) Comp. 6f was absolutely a staple of live performances around this time, and for some while to come actually. Comp. 23a is another number which got played with some regularity - by several iterations of the creative ensemble.)

Straight away we get an eyebrow-raising detail, because the "graphic title" which appears onscreen at 0.04 has got nothing whatever to do with the real title for this piece (another repetition structure of course - but this time, an additive structure; it's so well known now that surely it requires no further description on this blog of all places). This is a peculiarity of the broadcast, and it raises (as far as I can see) three possibilities: one, that the producer/editor thought that was it was somehow OK to make up their own graphics for the pieces and just slap them on there (surely not..?); two, that some sort of mistake has been made (far more likely#, though still a bit hard to fathom); three, that the graphics shown onscreen actually did represent working titles for these pieces at that point. Hmm, interesting... dunno. In this first case, part of the diagram includes the word bis## - which almost seems to argue in favour of option one from the three floated above (you're never telling me B. would have used that word) - but although I am going to make a mental note of this question now in case I get the chance to return it later, I'm not about to wrestle with it seriously yet.

Of course the great advantage of video over audio is the opportunity to see what's actually happening at certain times - yes this is crashingly obvious, but it's still not completely fatuous to point it out - and besides some nice close-up camera stuff on the leader and the bassist in particular, this allows to notice what might otherwise be easy at times to overlook. For example, in this rendition of the piece at least, the drummer is completely freed up from the restrictions placed upon the other three players, and Shaw gets fully busy on it. (Off the top of my head, I can't remember whether this was always the case when Comp. 23c  was played. I don't think it always was, but I also don't think it's unique to this performance.) But it's also fascinating to see things we could never hear, such as the total concentration on Jenny-Clark's face as he gets stuck into the bass solo which follows the end of the written theme. The freedom and confident creativity in his playing gives us some idea of what might have captured the imagination of Joëlle Léandre, back in her conservatory days when she was attending jazz clubs... and while we're about it, around the 6-minute mark some purrs signal the entrance of the seamonster, and it's a bit of a treat to watch B. playing that, too. 

As always, B. takes perverse delight in using this lowest of woodwinds to generate altissimo squeaks and squeals, and he breaks out an insistent series of these as he's about to wrap up and move on, Shaw meanwhile just circling his drum skin with a battered brush... until... snap: at 10.32, he takes over for a very brief but very brisk transition while B. switches horns (off camera), and after just a couple of toots on alto sax we're flung headfirst into the crenellations of Comp. 23b, here undertaken at incredible speed. (I really haven't the faintest idea how many live concerts were played by this version of the quartet, but it's pretty clear that they had put in some fairly serious rehearsal time at the very least...) As usual with this piece, B. takes a giant solo himself and allocates far less time to the rest of the band - but, given the endless torrent of ideas which he was unfailingly able to unleash, this always felt appropriate. (I did say recently that I've "never been completely convinced that his approach is especially well-suited to standards"### - but I can't imagine ever getting tired of listening to him improvise on his own territories.) Oh, and by the way: on the subjects of both the advantages of video footage, and my continual carping about those critics who have tended to characterise B's music as "cerebral": just take a look at Shaw's face around 14.15, and see how much fun he's having there as the maestro hits top gear in his solo. When B. is finally done testifying, Shaw himself takes over (thus giving Jenny-Clark's fingers a much-needed break for a minute or two), and finally Wheeler gets his turn. After all this time and everything I've previously said, it would be all too easy to forget the qualities which led B. to hire Wheeler in the first place, but here some of them are, on display: his bright tone, his creativity and his technique are all showcased in this showstopping piece (- naturally, the audience will never have heard this material before). After a couple of minutes B. joins in himself, setting up the reprise of the theme, played so fast at this point that they are all practically falling over themselves - but far from being undisciplined or sloppy, this just sounds great. 

You couldn't top that for sheer excitement, and naturally no attempt is made to do so, with the set being concluded instead by ballad structure Comp. 23d - again, the graphic "title" which appears onscreen bears no resemblance to the one which eventually adorned New York, Fall 1974 so who knows what was going on with that. At this early stage, the piece was still generally being used in this way (rather than as a vehicle for extended improvisation as occasionally happened later) - which is to say, wrapping up a set with a "good time had by all" vibe, the charming written lines in this piece making it a perennial jukebox favourite in that ideal world I'm forever musing about... far from bringing the audience down after that prolonged adrenaline rush earlier, the conclusion of this number leads to a standing ovation and rapturous applause, indeed to stomping feet demanding yet more music (though I don't suppose they got it, alas). What possibilities must have been glimpsed, at this early stage! - although I daresay B. was already well aware of the extent to which the game was rigged against him, and his ilk. Still, moments like this must have made it seem worthwhile. 

The band at this point had a different energy about it from the other quartet line-ups of this period, and so a recording like this, however imperfect it might be, is nonetheless precious. I know I always tend to say this - well I would, wouldn't I? - but anyone who hasn't watched this footage owes to themselves to do so. Check it out!

* A recurring sub-theme of this broadcast is that of errors in the titles and credits; Wheeler is listed at the end as playing "trompette, buggle (sic)" - but I don't see any bugles here (nor do I remember reading that KW ever played one). That looks like a muted trumpet to me on the first number, and a fluegelhorn on the other two...

** Besides having mentioned last month the bassist's contribution to an Albert Mangelsdorff set, I also just recently listened to him with the Enrico Rava/Roswell Rudd quartet (a band I have long harboured a soft spot for). I have this nagging feeling that I've heard him in another context too, but off the top of my head... 

- UPDATE, 15/05/23: I just remembered what was nagging at me. "Jif" played on the cult album The Sun is Coming Up, a 1970s release by The Ric Colbeck Quartet (where the leader and bassist were joined by Mike Osborne and (South African expat) drummer Selwyn Lissack... one might uncharitably say, that's two underrated stars and two.. not so much). I listened to this a few months ago, for the first time in well over ten years.

*** This is one of those examples (like the VCR, or the fax machine... or the iPod) of "the future" becoming the past in relatively short order... fifteen years ago I would never have been without some sort of computer containing an optical drive. The combination of music-industry pressure (to make it harder for people to copy music) and the advent of cloud-based storage means that these days it's far from common to have such a device. Peripheral optical drives must be available, I'm sure... I may have to look into that because I can't survive indefinitely without the means to read files off a CD-R, even if my days of actively ripping and burning may now be behind me... 

# As well as the misrepresentation of Wheeler's kitbag inventory as noted above, J-F J-C's surname is misspelled Jenny-Clarke (just to prove that there was no xenophobia involved, I suppose..!) - and Shaw is listed as Show in the closing credits. (It's somewhat amusing also to see the drummer's name rendered "Charles BOBO SHAW", as if the second bit is part of his surname rather than just a nickname...)

## Bis in French means "twice" - although it is also used to designate sub-addresses of properties (e.g. where in the UK house number 2 might have an annexe 2a, in France this would become 2 bis). Never mind all that, though - what the hell is this doing here?! I just can't get my head round that at all and would love to get an answer to it.

### I'm not saying he's no good at them, or anything like that - and we've already established that standards are not generally my bag to begin with. No, I mean that I don't personally always enjoy his playing in such contexts. This is basically never true of recordings where he's playing his own music. (Despite what I said at the beginning of the year about some of the improvised duets in particular, I don't actually get fed up of listening to those either, although some of them may (...) reveal moments of less than unrestrained inspiration.)