Singing in the Snow

It’s a brilliant testimony to the loyalty she’s winning that thirteen members of Christine Duncan’s Element Choir braved last night’s thunder-snowstorm for their regular Wednesday night slot at ST. As usual, and very much in contrast with what was going on outside, they made the room feel very warm indeed. That seemed to be enough of achievement for some of the choristers, however, who seemed content to chat and giggle while Christine’s razor-sharp cues whizzed past them. As a result, it took a long time for the group to achieve the precious sense of collective focus – fostered by Christine’s innate conviction to musicality – that can make these shows truly extraordinary.

Highlights, instead, came increasingly from individual contributors which, upon reflection, is not really surprising. Throughout the residency, I’ve heard both trained singers and amateurs (in the wonderful, French sense) hone their improvising chops through the crucible of performance. What’s more, I understand that Christine is now leading technique workshops for choir members on weekends, so the learning curve for many of these performers is excitingly steep.

Favourite moments included Aki Takahashi’s whispering, muttering, sibilant solo that she delivered theatrically, rocking on her knees as if in intense prayer. Christine then cued newcomer Jessica Stuart to mimic her, and Juliet Palmer to accompany them both, and the tiny results were breathtakingly emotional. Colin Anthony’s best moments all sounded beautifully like an old codger complaining underwater (I propose a new cue for the Choir in honour of Colin: “Old man and the sea”). Thom Gill, who also took the conducting reigns at one point, led an excellent trio with Juliet and Erika Werry with a solo that oscillated between the nasal extremes of humming and the bronchial extremes of inhalation. Finally, another newcomer to ST, Lawrence Cotton, introduced an over-the-top yokel bellylaugh motif in his rich bass that, enacting the contagion of laughter, Christine soon had a good chunk of the choir (and this listener, inadvertently and uncontrollably) reproducing.

In other news this ratty new year, it goes without saying that I'm looking forward to the Barnyard Records Triple CD Launch and Party on Saturday night featuring music by Jean Martin, Evan Shaw, Colin Fisher, Lori Freedman, and me. We'll do what we can to emphasize the 'party' part of the event. Rats in the Barnyard.

Turn It Up

The music at ST has been growing steadily louder all week, and I’d be getting worried if a group called Fake New Age Music Band, slated for Saturday night, didn’t promise a timely ebb.  It started Tuesday night when flutist Rob Piilonen and saxophonist Colin Fisher, two members of the curatorial team at Leftover Daylight, launched a CD of their Whisper project – quiet music by guys who rarely play quiet music.

I’ve listened to (and played with) Rob and Colin a ton, so it was interesting to hear them improvise within the confines of a concept defined primarily by quiet dynamics. I was struck by how, for the few pieces they played together to start the evening, they used essentially the same kind and intensity of gesture as always, just with the volume turned down. Rob punctuated repetitive, quasi-harmonic motives with tiny blasts of untempered sound, while Colin clucked and wuffled tiny shards of musical potential in a continuous, energetic stream. It was clear how utterly consistent these two are, taking cues from each other in turn, finding useful solutions to workaday musical problems. Guests Joe Sorbara, Aaron Lumley, Nilan Perera and I joined Whisper for a cheerful round robin of music that, if not always quiet, was certainly more methodical than typical ad hoc playing.

The first set on Wednesday night – part of Christine Duncan’s Element Choir residency – was comparably methodical, but was brought brilliantly to life by the sheer spirit of those involved. Vocalists Duncan and Sienna Dahlen (who also did some looping and processing of her voice) were joined by bassist Scott Peterson and local wizard of miscellany, Michelangelo Iaffaldano. I’d guess that this is a new working ensemble, gauging from the success of the music and the enthusiasm in the aftermath from the group members. The unquestionable highlight was Christine’s ripping, wordless blues-belter solo midway that (despite her head-cold) energized what had been, to that point, a lovely but rather staid opening to the set. Regardless, the internal dialogues in particular between Scott’s bass and Michelangelo’s… uh… stuff kept plenty of momentum throughout.   Truly top-tier improvisation.

I am enjoying Christine’s choir residency tremendously, since it embodies all of the things I’d imagined the residencies could do. Despite lots of turnover in personnel week to week, there’s a core of singers with whom, through the consistency of regular performance, Christine is forging a very warm and responsive rapport. The music is markedly better each week, to my ears, as Christine refines her skills as a conductor and leader – ‘encourager’ would be an apt handle.

The mix of Christine’s university-level students and enthusiastic amateurs (in the literal, French sense) in the group is a functional one that blends chops and spirit nicely, and allows for healthy and enjoyable blend of whimsy and earnestness. Everyone’s clearly having a splendid time, but nobody doubts that music-making is the real task at hand, which Christine makes absolutely clear by her presence alone. I’m amazed that more haven’t come out to hear this remarkable group so far. To evoke the best of jazz brochure rhetoric, this group is simply not to be missed.

Expect a follow-up from Kyle Brenders’s lively (and extremely loud, upping-the-ante) Double Trio set last night (Thursday) in the next little while.