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Posts Tagged ‘Johannes Weidenmueller’

All the magic happens up there, in the New School's Arnhold Hall.
Photo credits: forgotten-ny.com

Gather a group of jazz musicians into a concert hall, and you’re guaranteed an interesting night. When those musicians are part of the New School’s renowned jazz faculty, that interesting night takes a quirky turn. Randomly selected to perform together in Arnhold Hall with bandleader Andy Milne, the two pianists, two bassists, tenor saxist, trumpeter, and vocalist filled the modest venue with a few standards, faculty originals, a folk tune or two…and five moments that stretched the bounds of instrumentation to creative heights.

5. Standing before a laptop, gong, and drum set, pianist (and percussionist for the night) David Lopato introduced “Shadow of a Bird in Passage”, a Tibetan-inspired interpretation of the soul’s journey to birth. Wielding several metal bowls in hand, bassist (and also impromptu percussionist) Johannes Weidenmueller joined Lopato in crafting an earthy vibe, punctuated by Cecil Bridgewater’s siren-like trumpet. The layering of rustic and sleek textures was surprisingly intuitive, even when Lopato digitally remixed Julie Hardy’s vocals against an organic aural backdrop.

4. As soon as the opening notes of “11211” seeped from the piano, only one thought came to mind: This must be Jay Bianchi’s piece. And Bianchi –hunched over and immersed in the keys – did indeed craft the intense composition. While he pensively pushed forward, Weidenmueller’s upright bass twisted into Alexis Cuadrado’s Latin-tinged electric chords, both bassists infusing the air with a playful edge.

3. Amid the stew of tangents in “The Farmer’s Market” – Milne’s keyboard synths, Bianchi’s acoustic musings, Bridgewater and tenor saxist Arun Luthra’s brassy conversation – one voice stood strident and sensational. Hardy’s voice, that is. Her scatted “do-dah”s recalled the plump sound of a xylophone, especially when dancing across Weidenmueller’s mellower plucks.

2. Lopato, Milne, and Bianchi raised Duke Ellington to the third power in a musical and gymnastic feat on “In a Sentimental Mood”. Alternating as lead pianists, they lent the piece three distinct flavors in a matter of minutes. Lopato dipped in and out of melodic conventions in a warm opener, passing the aural baton onto Milne, who – while Lopato played on his knees to make room on the bench – brought a cooler ambience to the florid affair. Bianchi slipped in after, echoing the warmth and ease of his piano predecessors in a more traditional context.

Weidenmueller proves along with Luthra, Milne, and Cuadrado that percussion hides in the strangest places.
Photo credits: Tory Williams

1. Throughout the evening, the band was vocal about its lack of a drummer and ironic abundance of pianists and bassists – but Luthra transcended the obstacle in his witty, cross-instrumental “Collective”. Saxophone slung over his neck, he jolted right into the improvised jam…though not with his brassy tone. Luthra’s konnakol (a South Indian form of vocal percussion) launched a funky rhythm accented by Milne’s piano string plucks and Cuadrado’s acidic electric bass. Weidenmueller knocked away at his upright bass frame, adding a hollow foil to the pungent mix. And Bianchi summed up the mood in Arnhold Hall as he watched from the stage steps, swinging, twisting, tapping, and grooving to the downright irresistible beat.

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Rez Abbasi, a guitarist with flair.
Photo credits: Jazz Music Archive

“I’m having a brain…you know,” sighed guitarist Rez Abbasi, out of breath and close to speechless after a full-throttle rendition of “Onus on Us”. After such a wildly evolving piece, a bit of brain freeze is understandable – perhaps even inevitable. Under the band name Invocation, Abbasi’s five-member powerhouse took the Jazz Standard by a storm in a CD release concert for the new album Sonu Sonu, echoing a soul-drenched heartiness truly akin to invocative prayer.An ingeniously uncanny duet of sorts opened the evening on “Thanks for Giving”. Rudresh Mahanthappa’s signature sax slurs swelled into nearly pitch-perfect harmony with Abbasi’s eclectic and fluid guitar riffs, both musicians rising and dipping in tandem with tense melodicism. Though this pairing soon whittled down to subtly agitated momentum, the most captivating aural duel arose from two unlikely battlers: the piano and the drums, courtesy of Vijay Iyer and Dan Weiss.  The latter’s rolling rhythms brewed the tune forward with a charming blatant quality, led by a rippling snare drum, then outright bangs – until settling upon assertive drumstick on drumstick beats. Iyer broke into Weiss’ acerbic bubble with warm classicism, bringing forward a lightly authoritative tone to flip the aggressive band dynamic upside down. This convoluted dichotomy danced upon the divide between intriguing discord and jarring discombobulation, setting the scene for all pieces to come.

Belting it out at the Jazz Standard.
Photo captions: voanews.com

“Onus on Us” leaned toward an appealing avant-garde disjointedness, though infused with graceful breaks into harmony to quell the impact. Mahanthappa brought a trumpet-like, blaring brassy propulsion to his sax, meanwhile bassist Johannes Weidenmueller set forth a gently audible bounciness, rooted in classic jazz. Abbasi’s guitar assumed the smooth-mannered fluency of a crooning vocalist, tousling through the higher pitches. And further piling onto the tune’s expanding textural repertoire was a rock-inspired Weiss, gloriously playing with a drumstick held in his mouth – and, eventually, with only his hands. The sum of these hotly opposing instrumental parts dissolved into a surprising anticlimactic tenderness. Iyer and Weidenmueller rose from the grandiose midst in a soft but willful duet, rolled forward by pondering piano tones and halted by commanding plucks of rich bass.

Though the band showed impeccable balance amid many near-dives into rhythmic and textural overload, “Nusrat” did slip over the discordant edge. Abbasi’s calmly meandering solo opened the tune with Hindi undertones and electric coolness, uniting his Middle Eastern and eclectic contemporary jazz inspirations with an effortless appeal. But as soon as Weiss and Mahanthappa delved in, a lack of distinctive rhythmic progression steadily swirled the piece into a muddle of unrest.  The drummer’s forward momentum took a caustic leap into intrepid cymbal slams, pungently interjected by marathon blurts of saxophone, courtesy of Mahanthappa’s virtuosic lungs. Iyer, Weidenmueller, and even Abbasi were drowned out by the argumentative uprising. Some ground did eventually settle beneath the tune’s restless feet, however, in the form of Iyer’s crystal-clear, timeless brilliance. Alongside a cruising cymbal array from a toned-down Weiss, his cerebral piano infused the piece with a refreshing, catchy groove, conjuring the conversational ease of George Gershwin.

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