This was a carefully programmed evening full of contrasts. It serves as a reminder not only that the creative spirit of people working as musicians in this country is indomitable – despite odds that can often seem impossible – but also of quite how many forms that drive to make music can take. In each of their short sets, the three bands here gave a window into the years of work that have allowed them to get to the fine level of achievement they have now reached. These things don’t just happen
I heard the first three bands on the first night of the two-night festival – they left me no shortage of things to think and write about – but I had to leave before singer-pianist Ian Shaw’s solo set that would close the evening.
I also note that to call this event a “festival” may actually be doing it a disservice. Festivals are often things which come and have very soon and very swiftly gone; this one is different. It’s a part of the year-round activity which is a bedrock of our scene.The people who make *that* happen aren’t acknowledged enough. Tomasz Furmanek hosts around 80 gigs throughout the year. It’s an incredible achievement. He and the team create a welcoming ambiance. These things matter.
The first set, from the trio of vocalist/ lyricist Imogen Ryall, saxophonist Julian Nicholas and pianist Mark Edwards, was a reminder of the depth of inspiration that can be drawn from the jazz canon from both sides of the Atlantic. We heard tunes by Wayne Shorter, Ellington and Carla Bley, often with new lyrics by Imogen Ryall. Julian Nicholas’ art as instrumentalist is to be constantly, freshly composing as he performs, and alongside him in this seasoned and well-attuned trio we hear Ryall in the Norma Winstone-ish role of the singer-as-instrumentalist, even doing one chorus on ‘voice trumpet’. Melodic exploration yes, but also touching and thoughtful performances, full of grace, good humour and great musicality.
The arrival of the second singer onstage brought home what a supportive way of working jazz musicians in general and singers in particular can have: singer/songwriter Monika Lidke’s very first interaction with the audience on taking the stage was to praise, thank and instigate applause for Imogen Ryall.
Monika Lidke makes a great connection with the audience. She has a band (Shez Raja on bass, Matt Chandler on guitar and Adam Teixeira on drums) who can settle with ease and persuasiveness into a forceful groove. A special moment was when the singer chose to connect with the sizeable Polish element in the room through singing “The Tum-Tum Song,” which she co-wrote with Basia Trzetrzelewska, the one-time vocalist of Matt Bianco. The song sees the life-affirming side of both rain and tears. As the lyric in Polish has it “Since rain gives life to the Earth / I guess it’s not so bad”. I start to reflect how few people could claim to be attracted to the UK because of our weather ….not even Polish people, it seems.
Another adoptive Londoner (but from a place with rather more sunshine) is vocalist, composer, songwriter and pianist Clara Serra López who performed the third set. She started by noting the irony of being “back” in a jazz club. She came to the UK to study jazz at Guildhall, later won a Peter Whittingham Award, but she is starting to make waves, having stepped beyond the jazz community. She works closely with drummer/producer Jake Long, she was selected for the inaugural SXSW in London (the ultimate been-and-gone festival) and her debut album “Lengua Materna (Part I),” appeared on Real World Records this summer.
The sound around the singing voice is big, produced, ambient, electronic, but the voice she pits against it is strong, free, (more powerfully and assertively live than on the album) and she brings all the raw emotion of the flamenco ‘quejío’, allowing a really powerful and natural, even mystical form of expression. An evocative performance, but with a real trademark ‘London underground’ kind of sound, and the stories she tells to link the songs have real authenticity about them.
This festival provided a great opportunity to hear the familiar and the not-so-familiar. Long may it continue.
