In other words, Ifind the music interestingbut small.
Alien march 1986 series#
After the usualyears of obscurity, it seems that Reich has become even more of a media darling than Phil Glass of late and his compositions, concentrating a series of small gestures in a variety of soothing ways, now sound tailor-madefor a polite reputation.
London Dominion THISWAS a sort of round-trip packageof Reich's music, from the 1972 "Clapping Music" to the new (thoughstill "minimal") "Sextet". But this is quibbling- this W& fine music, sinewy hard bop of the first water. The only reservation Ihad concerned his apparent addictionto pyrotechnics: ugly screams and irrelevantsustained hiah notes. The man himselfturned in a typically absorbing performance, muscular, dramatic and surprisingly agile. GeorgeColeman, on the other hand, appearedto be enjoying himself, as did his British rhythm section- DaveGreen impeccableas always on bass, Martin Drew brisk and sham on drums and John Critchinson subtle and imaginativeon piano. Perhapsthey'were simply havinga bad night. But the band's lack of subtlety (especiallyin the drumming, which was rock drumming and not particularlygoodrock drumming), raucousnessand (it must be said) occasional flatness did little to win over a thin Tuesday-nightaudience, most of whom clearly thought, as Idid, that the musicwas too loud. Their somewhat restricting line-upof sax (now and again doubling on keyboard), bass and drums applied itself with great gusto to a GEORGE COLEMAN BACK DOOR London Ronnie Scott's I'M AFRAID Iwas very disappointed with Back Door's performancehere. Many improviserslet their music go to sleep while they're working out some detail Christmann is electrically alive from momentto moment. The minute he's bored, he's off into something else. Where Paul Rutherford's music is a continuous, ferocious mumble, Christmann's is zany and impatient. His trombone sounds cracked, but sometimes it's gentle too. In tandem with Russell's dour, monochrome chording, he proffered a cartoonof mad extremes. Christmann:~world is devotedto exposing the nerve and frenzy behindthe everyday: against images of escalators and hands beingwashed, he puckered out horn lines that were as plangentlysurreal as the pictures were mundane. He even found time to do a headstand on his chair while Harold Lloyd silently scrambled aroundtwentieth-storeyledges behind him. It's the way he slamsall these things together at breakneck speed.
It's not just his vast lexicon of sounds, the chatteringgurgles, the savage rasps and melodiousbarks or his dizzying sense of form, where freakishjuxtaposi~onsare madeto seem models of logic or his ability to conduct a conversation with Russell by apparently ignoring everything the guitarist did or his new weapons of invention, including a backdropof eightmillimetre films coarsely projected on to a sheet-screenand a cello for when he got tired of tromboning it. We have come to expect outrage from the manwho made such beautiful, bizarre recordsas We Play and Weavers,but hearing Christmannanew is enough to freshen anybody's sense of surprise. His London show with indigenous guitarist Russellwas vibrant with the kind of civilized mayhemthat seemsto be second nature to him. GUNTHER CHRISTMANN & JOHN RUSSELL London EmpressOf Russia GUNTHER CHRISTMANN is a rare and welcome visitor here, a trombone virtuoso whose achievements in the name 6f freedom are in sore need of greater exposure.
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