Jazz concert review: AntiGravity with Viv Corringham at Studio Z

Viv Corringham

When: Thursday, July 29, 2010 • Where: Studio Z • Who: Dean Granros (guitar), Stephen Goldstein (laptops), Patrick O'Keefe (clarinets and soprano saxophone), Scott Fultz (tenor saxophone, Viv Corringham (voice)

The improvised music/free jazz group AntiGravity has been playing a bimonthly series at the recently refurbished Studio Z in St. Paul’s Lowertown, and more people should be showing up.

I’ve been to three concerts now, in May, July, and last night, and their music deserves a bigger audience. Improvised/free/whatever you call it is a hard sell but I’ve seen decent crowds at the Rogue Buddha, the Clown, Homewood Studios and Art of This Gallery and there’s no reason the same people shouldn’t be coming to Studio Z. Different people, too.

Unless they’re not hearing about it. Or unless the door to the building is locked when they get there. In July, we had to enter through a deli on the other end of the building that happened to be open late. Last night we were about to drive off when HH saw Patrick O’Keefe push the door open. Concerts start at 8 p.m. and apparently that’s the same time the door to the Northwestern Building (an artists’ cooperative) is locked

Maybe start at 7:30?

AntiGravity. L to R: Fultz, O'Keefe, guest Corringham, Goldstein, Granros.

The core AntiGravity group is Dean Granros on guitar, Jacqueline Ultan on cello, Stephen Goldstein on laptops (software synths, samplers, beats, textures), Patrick O’Keefe on clarinets and saxophone, and Scott Fultz on saxophones (also flute and occasionally stainless steel bowls). For the last two concerts they’ve brought in guests: in July it was multi-instrumentalist/instrument maker Douglas Ewart and last night it was British vocalist/sound artist Viv Corringham. Ultan was unable to attend.

Steve Goldstein

AntiGravity is a very musical group. I was talking with someone recently, a musician, who said his main problem with free jazz is he doesn’t like it when instruments make ugly sounds. It’s true that sometimes they do, depending on who’s playing them and what he or she wants to say. Some musicians push their instruments to the edge and over. You can follow or not. Personally I have found great rewards in music I couldn’t have sat through a few years back, because I have trained my ears to hear it, mainly by going to live performances.

But not all free jazz is aggressive or (as it's often called) "just noise." AntiGravity may seem like five musicians doing their own thing, whether it’s a saxophone squawk or a series of static bips or a dissonant chord, but then O’Keefe’s and Fultz’s horns will soar together on the same wings or Goldstein will lay down a trancelike beat or Ultan will bow her cello or Granros will play a single phrase of pure guitar poetry and it's beautiful.

Patrick O'Keefe

I’ve heard Corringham twice before. The first time, a performance with Milo Fine at Homewood Studios in 2009, was daunting. I was surprised by the sounds she was making, some of which seemed very strange to me. A few months later I heard her again, at the Black Dog with Didier Petit, and because I knew more of what to expect, I could listen with a more open mind. The Homewood performance had begun my ear training (aided and abetted by an email exchange with Fine); the Black Dog was the next lesson. At Studio Z, I crossed over. I get it now, or I get it enough that I can enjoy it.

Vocal free improvisation—at least, how Corringham does it; I haven’t heard anyone else attempt it—is not singing or scatting. It’s using the voice, lips, palate, tongue, teeth, diaphragm, nose, and breath as an instrument, occasionally with electronic manipulation. (She uses a Line 6 looper; Fultz uses a DigiTech Whammy pedal and a Boss DD-6 digital delay pedal; Granros plays electric guitar. O’Keefe is the only one who’s unplugged. Yet at one point he makes his bass clarinet sound exactly like a didgeridoo.)

Scott Fultz

With Corringham, anything goes: clicks, growls, chirps, panting, trills, kisses, whoops, grunts, squeals, mews, glissandos, chatter, speaking in tongues. We hear occasional hints of a rich mezzo-soprano and  vibrato. Her range seems limitless, as does her imagination. She can do what anyone around her can do, except for chords. (At least, I’ve never heard her sing chords, though she probably has the Tuvan throat-singing thing somewhere in her repertoire.) It’s fascinating to watch and to hear.

They perform two pieces, one long (over an hour) and one short. There’s so much variety and color in the first piece that it doesn’t seem that long. (For reference, Beethoven’s Ninth is over an hour long, with short breaks between movements.) When you listen to something as unpredictable as this, you can try to take in all the sounds at once; you can follow one person for a while, then another; you can do both. To me, improvised/free jazz is like an Impressionist painting: Stand back, view the whole thing, and it becomes coherent; get too close or focus on a single aspect and it falls apart. 

Dean Granros

I close my eyes and listen to everything, then open them to see what a particular musician is up to. There’s a nice stretch between Granros and Corringham where they anticipate and respond to each other, and a dialogue between Corringham’s vocalizations and Goldstein’s beats. A spontaneous duet between O’Keefe and Fultz. A time when everyone else is playing/vocalizing low tones against a groove from Goldstein and Granros adds random blats from his guitar. At one point, Goldstein’s beats sound like cicadas.

The second piece is all percussion, suggestion, and breath. A soft landing.

***

Listen to AntiGravity on their MySpace page. Even better, go see them live. I heard Goldstein say something about skipping August, then reconvening in September. I'll put the specifics on the calendar as soon as I know them.

Watch a video featuring Corringham with guitarist Dave Tucker.

Thanks to Scott Fultz for help with the electronics.

Photos by John Whiting.

D'Amico Cucina: The second-to-last night

When: Friday, June 26, 2009 • Where: D'Amico Cucina, Butler Square

A few years back I took HH to D'Amico Cucina for his birthday. Last Friday's repeat performance was tinged with nostalgia. The fabled Italian restaurant would close the next day, a casualty of changing economic times, the proximity of the new Twins stadium, and various traffic and parking woes.



It's not that the company is failing--D'Amico and Partners owns Cafe and Bar Lurcat, all of the D'Amico & Sons restaurants, Campiello (although the one in Minneapolis has closed, there are others in Eden Prairie and in Naples, Florida for snowbirds), and Masa, the gourmet Mexican restaurant on Nicollet Mall. The closing is "proactive" and it's rumored that Cucina might relocate.

But the original location was special. It was beautiful, comfortable, and the food and service were amazing. It was also, for 22 years, a sophisticated jazz venue on the weekends and a constant gig for many area musicians. Think Bobby Short at the Carlisle in New York City.



The regulars came out on Friday, and many friends. We sat at the bar, where the music was. Adam Linz and Luke Polipnick were at the other end. Jeremy and Marsha Walker showed up. Benny Weinbeck was on piano, Gordy Johnson on bass, JT Bates on drums. The players changed throughout the evening: Adam briefly took over for Gordy, Phil Hey replaced JT, Tommy O'Donnell sat in for Benny. Scott Fultz brought his saxophone, Benny's brother Henry his cornet, and for a time it was a quintet.



From where we were sitting, we could see the musicians, and while they spent most of the evening playing, there were breaks when they stood and talked together, handsome men in suits and ties, class acts in a classy place. We ate ahi tuna and veal in a sauce and perfect seared scallops, lobster gnocchi and tiny green beens, beef tenderloin and chocolate. The place was packed, the bartenders worked at hyperspeed, it was noisy but fun. The music—classics, standards, swinging and sweet, the kind you can turn to and focus on, then turn away from to toast and kiss your husband, yet you're still hearing it and it's shaping your mood and making your wine taste even better—the music went on and on and then it stopped.



Photos by John Whiting. Top to bottom: Benny Weinbeck; Gordy Johnson; Phil, Gordy, Benny, Scott, Henry; Henry Weinbeck.

Jazz is NOW!

When: Tuesday, August 19, 2008 • Where: Carleton Artists Lofts Community Room • Who: Jeremy Walker, keyboards; Kelly Rossum, trumpet; Chris Thomson, saxophones; Scott Fultz, saxophones and flute; Jeff Brueske, bass; Kevin Washington, drums

While I'm in CT at Soul Mountain Retreat, HH is taking in some jazz on his own. Like the Jazz is NOW! open rehearsal/party fundraiser, a preparation for the NOWnet's formal premiere on Tuesday, October 7, at the Minnesota Opera Center.

Jeremy, is that a rubber duckie on your keyboard? Let's take a closer look:


Photo by John Whiting.

Jazz is NOW!: The NOWnet

When: 6/12/08
Where: Minnesota Opera Center
Who: Jazz is NOW! NOWnet: Jeremy Walker (leader, piano), Kelly Rossum (trumpet), Chris Thomson (saxophones), Scott Fultz (saxophones), Anthony Cox (bass), Tim Zhorne (drums)

I like everything about Jazz is NOW! The idea of a nonprofit composers' ensemble that performs original music. The music itself. The musicians who write and play it. The inviting, well-written, easy-to-navigate, time-sucking Web site, with videos of their performances, photos, downloadable charts, MP3s, and a blog.

I want JiN to survive and thrive (as much as jazz can thrive these days, and I suppose that depends on how you define "thrive"). I want Jeremy Walker to be our John Zorn and the Minnesota Opera Center (or wherever) to be our Stone and someone to start our Tzadik label. I want people with money to throw some at JiN. They need it. As Meg Cortright, JiN's board president, said during her introduction to the evening, "A jazz musician is always in recession."

Tonight's event is billed as JiN's second open rehearsal for their formal premiere, set for October 9. I missed the first rehearsal in March but can hear it on the Web site anytime I want.

I don't know what refreshments were available in March but tonight it's a $5 bottomless cup of sangria. Homemade, a good deal and lots of fresh fruit, steeped overnight in wine.



The opening tune is Walker's "Cool Turkey." The theme, he explains, is moderation in everything. "It's full of stops and starts, kind of like when you're at a party and you think...better not." Fultz is featured on the saxophone and this bright, bouncy piece is a solid start.

Everything we hear tonight, with two exceptions, is an original composition by Jeremy. He will introduce each tune and preface each introduction by saying he doesn't like talking. But it helps to know what to expect, especially when all of the music is new, and I hope he keeps doing this in future performances. Or, if he really hates doing it, maybe someone else in the band can step up.

This is the first time I've heard Walker play piano. I like what I can hear but it's subdued, partly because the piano isn't miked and partly, perhaps, because this is an early public performance of someone who played the saxophone for many years before that became impossible. Also, this is the first time I've heard drummer Zhorne. Jeremy tells me later that he and Tim have been buds forever.



For Kelly Rossum's tango "Seduction," his shiny new trumpet wears a mute and sounds sexy. Thomson plays soprano sax and sounds sexy, too, especially during his snake-charmer solo. Sometimes we hear all three horns, with Kelly doing a wah-wah, and behind them Cox makes the strings of his bass speak deep round vowels. The mute gives the trombone four different voices, depending on whether it's in or out or how far in or out it is. Toward the end, Cox bows his strings.

"Play" was inspired by dancers at the Xenon company, where Walker's wife Marsha used to work. It's speedy and upbeat—major key. The piano is muted, mostly comping.

Walker originally wrote "June" with himself in mind on lead sax; today Fultz has Walker's horn and plays the part. "We don't repeat the melody because I wanted it to be linear," Walker explains. "When you walk you don't go back to the beginning; you keep going and arrive home." The melody has a Glenn Miller sweetness to it, and old-fashioned harmonies; by playing it just once, the band makes me long to hear it again. It's wistful, like time is passing too quickly.

For "Hill Country," an homage to pianist/composer Andrew Hill, Walker's brother Tom joins the band on acoustic guitar. The horns go high, Jeremy plucks the strings inside the piano (unless I misremember), and the mood gets lazy. We hear the first extended piano solo of the night. Soft, thoughtful.

Jeremy tells us he was listening to a lot of Willie Nelson at the time he wrote "Hill Country." What's up with jazz musicians and Willie Nelson? Wynton Marsalis's new CD, Two Men with the Blues (due out July 8), is with Willie Nelson. It should be fun.

I look around at the audience, which is pretty decent for an open rehearsal. A lot of young people are in the crowd.

After the break and more sangria with oranges and grapes: "Way Back Was," with Tom on guitar again. Backporch blues guitar, with muted trumpet.

I'm enjoying the evening very much. A small group of musicians, an intimate setting, lots of people we know, new music: It feels like chamber jazz. Relaxed, easy (at least for the audience, sipping on our sangrias), personal.

Fultz opens "Requiem for the Day" on flute. A response to a soldier's death in Afghanistan, it's tender and beautiful. Walker introduces "The Pumpkins' Reunion" by saying it's "about seeing my son and missing him." Slow and sad, it ends with a pensive piano solo.

"If I Were a Cowboy (I'd Ride the Hell out of Here)" is a sassy shuffle blues. And the night ends with Fultz's "Dorothy and Robert," a tune about his grandparents when they were young and courting. Fultz opens on tenor sax. It's a waltz, a love song, a happy send-off into the night.

You can see and hear most of the actual performances here.

Photos by John Whiting.