And so I ask, "Should I go?" and the reply comes, "Of course you should--if only to be taken closer to the point of saturation where crystals start forming." So I do.
photo by Andy Newcombe
Everything dissolves into an elemental crush where new things are formed.
Parker/Edwards/Prevost. The only thing you can title such an event. What else would you call it? The great dissolve? Who would come to that?-- Although that is exactly what we experience.
Parker/Edwards/Prevost. The only thing you can title such an event. What else would you call it? The great dissolve? Who would come to that?-- Although that is exactly what we experience.
Bang! No warm-up. With players of this standard we are straight
into the rough cut diamond where the inherent quality of the gem already
supersedes most finished product.
Parker splinters arpeggios like
splitting hairs for a cosmic purpose, Edwards, his bow shredded before he even begins, already in orbit. Within minutes his double bass becomes a waterfall, sweat pouring down the strings. We are here to be reminded of
something. Prevost's drums something like a Sioux battle cry. First set
finishes with Evans thrumming a flattened seventh beneath Parkers long riff. A generous 40 minutes.
Set 2 begins with an axel grind from contrabass, a
beehive thrumming. Sax splinters the sky, before they all take a sigh and
unfold into a slow release of dioxides in purple air. What does this mean? As
the bees keep thrumming and Prevost's rolling drums force muscle between
cymbal clangs, a crevasse opens and the earth shifts, dancing into canyon walls.
A simple, melodic riff; then bull ants chase the
double bass whilst cymbals swat and clash. All the while Parker's sax teases
us with songs a paintbrush might sing. Until it all explodes and we know no
bird or beast is singing this. Edwards again like a nervous gnat worrying at
the strings. The way they give over to each other. Then a subtle plucking, a dolls'
house serenade. Airplanes and shuffling stones. Db and drums a pigeon pair.
Do I pay enough to hear these people? I hardly think
so. Two glasses of wine are more expensive than the gig. But hey, I see
Edwards come over to a table of friends at the break with a job lot of
champagne, ready to pop and pour. And so, the liquor is the diamonds to our
listening. All of us, silked and smoothed to listen, to perform the
listening that is playing.
Edwards finishes like a lost dowager, sweeping
garments through the gardens of Versailles, some sort of anachronistic battle
between Marie Antoinette and the beehive.
It reminds me that generosity might just save the
universe.
c. Z Soboslay 2015.
with thanks to Nick Tsiavos for the prompt 'to go'--and the beautiful 'crystals' image, from which all else flowed...
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