There’s nothing worse than missing a concert, and then having someone tell you how absolutely incredible it was. You can’t do anything about not having gone to the gig – and being told you missed out only makes matters worse.
But you know what? I don’t care. I have to tell you how good the Pharoah Sanders concert at Sky Theatre was. Something that good is something you want to share.
I was expecting something pretty special. Sanders was, after all, John Coltrane’s favourite sax player. Alice Coltrane’s second favourite. He’s been at the leading edge of jazz for something like 40 years.
Sure, some of his stuff is pretty out there – I’m listening to the epic 30-minute ‘Sun in Aquarius’ from his 1969 Jewels of Thought album as I type – and although it’s clear that these are musical instruments – it’s not entirely certain that it’s music that they’re making.
But what a concert. Not only was this the most enjoyable and awe-inspiring concerts I’ve ever attended, one particular piece (equally an epic) was one of the best experiences of music I’ve ever encountered. This is what the jazz nutters mean when they talk about hearing Charlie Parker and seeing the face of God.
Even better, I took along a friend who just really had no idea what to expect. Had never heard of the guy, but had done a little bit of net-trawling to pick up a few bits of information. There was something in the form of legend about how Sanders’ sax would keep playing after he’d finished blowing. How fanciful, I thought. Nope – he did it. Twice. Sanders was able to keep the air dancing around inside his instrument long after he had taken the horn out of his mouth.
And we haven’t even started on the band. I don’t have a big enough vocabulary of superlatives to describe the drummer. ‘Wow‘ will have to suffice.
The support act, on the other hand, were an insult. I’ve talked over far better bands in pubs.
An entire album’s worth of merely adequately-performed generic Wes Montgomery-ish cafe-jazz by a quartet entirely devoid of charisma. What they lacked in polish, they made up for in lack-of-polish. I mean… good on you for getting the Pharoah support – but a couple of pointers:
1) Teach the bass player the songs BEFORE you go on stage.
2) While it’s often okay to noodle aimlessly on the guitar in jazz – at least do it over a drummer that will do more than simply boom-chick.
3) If you’re going to play slap bass, go join Level 42 and leave the rest of us alone.
4) Get support gigs for bands that you are at least peripherally related to stylistically. That was like seeing Deep Obsession open for Radiohead.
Forty-five minutes of these local boys (and you know how I hate to diss the locals) and the talk around the bar at intermission was – well – WTF?!!!
I saw vibes player John Bell, trumpeter and drummer Kim Paterson, sax guys Jim Langabeer and Drew McMillan and a swag of the more interesting jazz musicians about town at the gig. There was a far better band in the front five rows of the audience than there was onstage when that support act (who will go unnamed here) laboured their way through the most unchallenging of music – that would have sounded more at home under an ad for the local chemist.
And yet – within seconds of Pharoah’s quartet taking the stage – everything else was rightly forgotten. It was utterly joyous, splendid and moving. Everything that music is supposed to be and yet so rarely is.
My son Jake – who takes drum lessons, but has no ambitions to be a musician (drumming is one of a set of ‘skills’ he wants to acquire, but only if it doesn’t get in the way of the prime ambition of building robots and breeding tigers in space) – was inspired enough to declare an intention to be a jazz drummer like the one in Pharoah Sanders’ band. He was even enough of a convert to warrant hanging around to get Sanders’ autograph.
My wife Bobbie – who had previously heard some of my Pharoah CDs and begged for mercy (or at least a reduction in volume) – had agreed to come along but was seriously worried about laughing inappropriately at the weird experimental noises and the strange performers taking themselves way too seriously. She was instead pleasantly surprised: 700% better than she thought it was going to be.
And my friend Sam – for whom all this was new territory – was blown away, which was, of course, immensely gratifying. Despite his complete immersion in commercial radio, Sam has a love of great music and is always open to new experiences… but the whole avant garde jazz thing was previously a closed book. I’m going to find him a copy of ‘The Creator Has A Master Plan’ as a next step in his conversion.
In short – and I know you don’t really want to hear this – you SO missed out. Unless, of course, you didn’t – in which case you know exactly why I’m raving, and probably think I’ve downplayed it a bit much.
Oh – and Happy Easter. I wish you excessive amounts of chocolate.
