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Posts Tagged ‘Cornelia Street Cafe’

Billy Drewes brings his sax to life.
Photo credits: Flickr user msnyc111

After brief performance under the band name “Cloning Americana,” Billy Drewes and his bandmates have assumed status as the Billy Drewes Quartet (with new pianist David Berkman). Despite a shift in name, the group still sets its sights on outspoken symbolism through hearty jazz composition. Drewes’ “Exploration into Wide Open Space Peace Project”—a descendant of the politically-charged album For Which it Stands, released in mid-2011—blossomed to full resonance in the cozy confines of the Cornelia Street Café.

Today’s jazz climate, despite all of its offbeat, experimental glory, rarely sees a band with an overtly sociopolitical message—or at least a band of such sort that isn’t overly subliminal. But this quartet’s style evokes a certain something: a fiery spirit of uncanny innovation, made all the more charming by occasional subtle swing undertones. Drewes played the instrumental wildcard throughout the evening, switching from alto saxophone to flute to bass clarinet to soprano saxophone. On a flute tune, bassist Scott Lee plucked with a brightly assertive virtuosity, tinged with a folk country lilt. Intertwined with Berkman’s light, crystal piano taps, drummer Jeff Hirschfield’s bell jingles, and Drewes’ lyrical flute extensions, the delicate but substantial piece evoked a saga-like aural melancholy that lingered long past its short duration.

In keeping with the “space explorations” theme, an offbeat tune named for a black hole delved into livelier camaraderie. Hirschfield’s rough-around-the-edges drum style lent the piece a bold, flippant disposition, grounded into firmer seriousness by Drewes on buzzing bass clarinet. Though abruptly closed at a mere few minutes, a choppy technique infused the tune with a zestful rebelliousness. The quartet interrupted their musical flow with curt half-second pauses, quickly reshuffling and again proceeding with edgy propulsion.

“Thang Part 2” cinched the first set on a playful note, led by a soprano sax echoing the lyricism of Drewes’ earlier flute. Initially deep swells of sax quickly lightened into the effusive bubbliness characteristic of songs entitled “Thang”; Berkman’s fluid, deep piano underwent a similar shift into slightly romantic undertones. Though Lee and Hirschfield spent most of the concert on the subtler sidelines, their shrugging, swing-like touches lined the piece with a necessary depth of tone and rhythmic progression. Short saxophone slurs evoked a curious light jazz appeal to unite the instrumental affair. But even between Drewes’ intermittent, fierce soprano sax jolts, the band lost not an ounce of their thoroughly lively spirit—truly indicative of skillful, soul-inspired collaboration.

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The quaint venue where it all happens.
Photo credits: Cornelia St. Cafe

The question of restraint is a recurring one in the case of jazz improvisation. With too little restraint, a directionless instrumental free-for-all assaults the ears. A by-the-books, predictable approach is barely jazz at all, let alone improvisation. The intuitive answer, then, is both extremes in moderation…but as experimental group Fugu proves, the answer is not so simple.

Though a quaint five piece collaboration, Fugu oozed the loaded energy of a full orchestra, their sound further enhanced by the Cornelia Street Café’s narrow, intimate construction. Drummer Nasheet Waits channeled an unwavering passionate ferocity into multiple rhythm layers, backed by the vivacious hum of Thomas Morgan on bass. Between their beat-driven intensity and Ralph Alessi’s shrill trumpet, pianist Jacob Sacks’ quieter melodies often got lost in the overwhelming wash—save for stellar, delicately sparse accompaniment during Morgan’s bass solo. Amid the evening’s nonstop percussion-trumpet powerhouse, Michaël Attias assumed the role of reflective sage. The alto saxist took on his signature meditativeness, cradling his saxophone while visibly absorbing the group’s vibe, coming alive at precise, intermittent moments. And when he came alive, Fugu’s already tipping scales nearly toppled into auditory overload.

Michael Attias, the evening's alto sax innovator.
Photo credits: jazza-memuito.blogs.sapo.pt

Attias left very little of his instrument’s range unheard, weaving through breathy woodenness to succinct metallic density, with the occasional jump into blaring aggression—at times all within the same tune. Whether in somberly-tinged unison with Alessi or the brass cherry atop Fugu’s complex instrumental dynamics, Attias throttled forward with thunderous command. Coupled with the exhaustless virtuosic reserves of his collaborators—morphing from sultry-smooth tandem into cymbal-rippled Latin influence into outright, roaring fire— the atmosphere reached an overbearing intensity.   But the group’s folly on the side of balance lent itself strangely to a divine hypnotic quality. Every tune dripped with soulful passion, both in the band’s hearty, robust music and excited nod-nods and jigs. Though over-the-top, Fugu’s sound retained an inherent musical cohesion and intuitive rhythmic progression. The quintet’s ultimate virtue, however, was their sheer emotional immersion in their craft.

Akin to fine caviar, Fugu beckons with delectable pungency—but is best enjoyed one small dab at a time. The quintet’s experimental, instinctually-driven approach stretches jazz with a charged touch, though never strays into overwhelming discord. And while not always straightforward or attractive in aural appeal, Fugu’s sound speaks the deeply satiating language of transformative catharsis.

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