Gradual

First of all, happy day to all you mothers. Last night I attended the Slow Music show at the El Rey Theatre in Los Angeles. The El Rey is a seventy-year-old movie theatre that’s been converted to a music venue. It’s nicely done with big chandeliers that catch the colored stage lights and then look like those fiber optic hippy lamps. It looks big enough to accommodate about three to four hundred folks. Last night there were about one hundred in attendance. I was happy to see that they had chairs setup for the Slowshow. As soon as the merch guy opened for business I snatched some CDs, but not the poster. The customer in front of me asked if the CD had the same songs they’d be playing. The merch guy and I shared a quiet laugh. I ran into DGM Bill and said a quick hello. Said hello to John Sinks. Grabbed a drink and sat down next to the soundboard. I looked around for Joe or Larry, but didn’t see them from where I was sitting. I figured I’d better go up to the stage where I could look back at folks’ faces and see if I could find them. Sitting in the middle of an almost empty front row was Larry. I sat down on his right and we chatted for sometime. He kept naming campgrounds I’ve never heard of. When the band came out he moved over to my right to get a clearer view of the English guitarist. There were enough open seats there in the front row to move around, stretch out, even set down my CDs on the chair next to me. The band hit the stage unintroduced and began to play. Actually, the first set began with Rieflin shaping some noise very quietly. Slowly (!), the others drifted in and out. It was sort of a team approach to soundscaping. And like at soundscapes, I was tempted to close my eyes and let the sound wash over me. But with six players on stage I was busy watching everyone. Lots of eye contact between keyboard/drum pad operator Rieflin and drum kit player Chamberlain. And American guitarist Buck was taking most of his cues from English guitarist Fripp. Buck was using his EBow to create single note lines that complemented and counterpointed Fripp’s chords and lines. Chalenor (who I think is really Kram) stood at the front of the stage and alternated between fingerpicking and bowing his acoustic bass. He may have been the only person in the whole venue standing up during the show. Zazou sat behind a big pile of gear including at least top laptops. It was sometimes difficult to identify what sounds he was generating and he stared into one laptop as if he was reading a book. Maybe he was checking Fripp’s email. The first piece was quite serene and very enjoyable. It seemed that there was a guideline that no player was to develop an idea beyond a certain amount of time. And silence was a major compositional component. The crowd was mellow and attentive and refused to rush in with applause, making the players determine the end of the pieces. The first piece lasted about 35 minutes, they took a break, and then returned for a second piece. Near the start of the second piece, as the music swelled, Fripp launched into the beginning of a majestic sounding theme, but then stopped before it developed. Buck vibrated his Rickenbacker with a butter knife. Zazou was more prominent with some swirling industrial loops sounding like an aggressive Tangerine Dream. Chamberlain made his cymbals sing by dragging the plastic tips of his drumsticks across them. During the piece, the music would wind down, seemingly ending. Like an elevator coming to a slow stop. But then someone would introduce something new and the elevator would begin moving again. Never quickly, though. Rieflin introduced the players, Fripp applauded his gear, and that was that. The vibe in the room was very peaceful. It was like attending a small classical music concert. For me, it could have been a bit louder. After the show, I bumped into (literally) Hector Zazou. I saw Rieflin and Buck talking with some folks. I really liked the El Rey and want to go back there for another show. Larry and I chatted some more and then headed off in different directions. Never did see Joe. Song titles? Right. Here’s the setlist –

And the infamous CD -

- Reader requested paragraph break -

I am a big fan of Mr. Hassell. I have most all his albums. I’m familiar with his deal. The five-piece band walked onstage without introduction. The orangey lights shone down and away we went. Hassell sat in a chair, crossed his legs, and began to rip. Propelling him were Kheir-Eddine M’Kachiche on violin, Dino J.A. Deane and Jan Bang live sampling, and Peter Freeman playing bass. Freeman really drives the sound. The samplers capture bits of the others and then reintroduce the phases in various melodulated ways. And often times a riskier method of improvisation than playing actual instruments. They added pads and Jon added his plunked electric piano chords. Via sampler, we heard horn and violin motifs looped and delayed. I enjoyed watching/listening as the bass riff was literally passed from Freeman to Bang. And then he sliced and diced it. All the while, Hassell’s horn was, as Mrs. p described, like the ocean washing over you. I’ve never (hey, I don’t get out that much…) seen the violin played like Kheir-Eddine M’Kachiche plays. He sat in a chair, held it straight upright, balanced on the top of his leg. He did a lot of call and response licks with Hassell. They just played their music and there was no dialogue with the crowd or even a break between songs. The first three songs segued together. After the fourth song the lights dimmed cueing the audients to finally gush. Unfortunately, this was about the time that a good 20% of the audience got up and left. In the middle of the music! We were in the sixth row and folks in front of, next to, and behind, were hoofing. Many of these folks looked even older than I, so maybe it was nothing more than a bedtime thing. Or had they come expecting something different? Neil Diamond? The improvisational nature of the show made it disjointed at times. And they had no chance to match the lushness of a studio release. But they stood their ground. Eventually, Hassell introduced the band and spoke to the crowd. He stood at the front of the stage addressing the hall without amplification. A Royce Hall employee ran out on stage with a microphone and stand, but Jon waved her off. He said one more and that was it. There was no time for us to wait for the available autography. Once home, I was hungry. That was when the popcorn husk became lodged on the back of my throat.