RevieW

BLESSINGS AND BLUES – THE NEIL GONSALVES TRIO

by John Edwards

I was simultaneously flattered, excited and apprehensive when Neil asked if me I would write a review of his new album, Blessings and Blues. I felt this way because I have only the highest regard for Neil’s advanced level of musical artistry and it is therefore a huge compliment that he considers me sufficiently musically knowledgeable to offer an assessment of his work. I hope his faith is not misplaced because, truth be told, I doubt my own ability to deliver a review that does justice to what is without shadow of a doubt, an immaculate, compelling and substantially engaging piece of work.

I have some experience in writing music reviews for both live and recorded music. It is always a challenging task because, along with an open heart and a focused mind, a competent review requires a variable and overlapping combination of objective knowledge and subjective taste.

I mention this because throughout repeated hearings of Blessings and Blues it became increasingly evident to me just how knowledgeable an artist Neil is. Knowledge in and of itself serves no particular purpose, it is what one does with it that counts. Neil is gifted with an extraordinary ability in that, not unlike an alchemist, he is able to transform his influences and experiences into something that is unique and artistic.

Neil alludes directly to one such influence in the title of the eleventh track A Dollar For Your Thoughts. This is an apt and witty pun and the piece is obviously written and performed in homage to Abdullah Ibrahim. The track opens with an adeptly handled bass and drums goema groove that is redolent of so many works by the (South) African master but Neil clearly has no intention of replicating too many obvious stylistic hallmarks that pertain to Ibrahim. I did detect several ‘Ibrahisms’ and there are probably more that are cleverly disguised or subverted in a manner that I have come to recognise as a component of Neil’s formidable and never less than hip and smart bag of creative resources. Regardless of the Ibrahim gestures that might be in evidence on this track, Neil also demonstrates an immense and incandescent facility with his improvised lines and deploys a complex contrapuntal sensibility that has more in common with (say) Brad Mehldau (and many others of a similar ilk) than Ibrahim. Let it be said though that Neil avoids the verbosity towards which Ibrahim and Mehldau (and many others) are sometimes inclined and brings the track in succinctly at under five minutes. This concise and pared down approach is in fact the case for all twelve tracks that make up the album but, make no mistake, despite this intentional brevity, Neil and his band succeed in packing every track with varied content, depth and significant punch. And still leave us wanting more! I was struck by how every track is distinctive unto itself and yet also forms a component of the greater whole. In Neil’s own words, ‘once assembled, the sequence of songs create a ritualistic feeling, a sense of journey’.

It is possible that the second piece on the album, The Musician’s Wedding is also intended as a nod towards Ibrahim (in terms of Ibrahim’s repertoire, The Wedding is perhaps second only to Mannenberg in terms of its ubiquitous appeal) but the resemblance stops at the title. The Musician’s Wedding is not a reverential ballad in the style of Ibrahim’s The Wedding but more of an infectiously robust African-derived groove that is welded to (or wedded with!) a

combination of contemporary melody and harmony within the format of a modern piano trio. Other highlights of The Musician’s Wedding include a joyful cascade of chromatic chords which serves both as an overall distinctive hook and a bridge between sequences of dynamic dialogue between the piano, bass and drums. This is a device that Neil uses to similar effect (this time with an ascending harmonised scalar passage) in Underworlds and Overseas. The inherent challenge of writing reviews such as these is finding the words to describe something that is (can only be) expressed musically. Having said that, this track exemplifies (for me) Neil’s ability to gather a myriad of seemingly disparate influences (for example, in Underworlds and Overseas I hear Monkish dissonances tempered by modern improvised lines that ‘pop’ with something akin to Chick Corea’s distinctive attack) together into something that might appear to be ‘straight-ahead’ but more often than not is subverted by the addition of something elusive - rhythmically, melodically, and/or harmonically – and which shifts the piece into a parallel realm that is (almost) simultaneously left of centre!

Rise and Shine is overtly and authentically South African by virtue of its ‘marabi-esque’ chord progression and also by the light-hearted, upbeat, soulful and humorous mood and groove that Neil and his trio successfully create. This is also one of several tracks that incorporates synthesised and/or sampled sounds to variable extents - thereby adding a subtle dimension to the standard piano trio format. It is noteworthy that these ‘non-acoustic’ additions and combinations are tasteful to the extent that, in the main, they only complement rather than distract or detract from the overall ‘integrity’ of the piano trio.

The opening piece – The Calling – is, however, an exception to this in that, distractions or detractions notwithstanding, The Calling does not in fact overly concern itself with the standard piano trio. It begins with an atmospheric sound of wind/rain and/or sea combined with arrhythmic, atmospheric and anticipatory drumming. A combination of piano and organ present the principal anthemic theme while successive layers of synthesised and/or sampled sounds (including mouth organ, whistles and vocal ululations) are combined into a climactic, hypnotic and satisfying whole that speaks of musical and other (South) African experience/s. This functions well as a prologue of the journey which is yet to come.

The last track Quantani also opens and ends with wind/rain and/or sea effects. The final section of the track includes the atmospheric drumming which is similar to that with which the album started. This creates a cyclical or looped effect. Given that the album has something of a programmatic sensibility (it is, as Neil himself says, a ‘journey’) Quantani also functions as an epilogue (closure before the cycle begins again) wherein piano, bass and drums (rather than sampled sounds) unite in a gospel-infused ostinato-driven piece that has resonance with some of the more meditative works by McCoy Tyner and Bheki Mseleku. Ultimately though The Calling and Quantani (and, indeed, every track on the album) are representative of the sound of the Neil Gonsalves Trio because, in the final analysis, it is they who have fused and transformed numerous disparate influences, elements and experience/s to create something that is elegant, original and aesthetically pleasing.

As already stated, every track has something distinctive yet still forms a vital part of the whole. The ceremonial and celebratory The Calling gives way to the robustly rhythmic The Musician’s Wedding. The declamatory and triumphant theme of Midnight Moves segues into the

propulsive and exciting African Time (this piece is one of the many highlights that the album provides for me). I heard an accelerated echo of Horace Silver’s triplet figure from Song for My Father (though it must be acknowledged that this was not necessarily the inspiration for Neil) in the insistently urgent melody of this composition. I was entranced by how the insistent melody shifted seamlessly between multiple keys before transporting us on to a sparse plateau (I use this word literally or programmatically - as in an African plain – and/or figuratively in a musical sense) that was characterised by sporadic bursts of activity – as depicted by a free improvisatory exchange between the piano, bass and the drums. Neil and his band are adept at creating tumult when required but this tumult never becomes tortuous, likewise, the ecstatic is in evidence but always allusive and never to excess. It is clearly jazz that is of this country and this continent but tracks like The Breadmaker’s Blues, Let’s Do It Again and Southern Migration also indicate a knowledge of and immersion in music from numerous other places. If, for example, you enjoy the soundscapes of Avishai Cohen (especially on the album Seven Seas) then it is possible that you might hear aspects of this sound in The Breadmaker’s Blues. Certainly this tune is another highlight for me.

Neil refers in his sleeve notes to how these are ‘songs for the unsung’. With this album, the Neil Gonsalves Trio provide ample evidence that their songs should be heard and their praises sung. It is my belief that Neil is one of South Africa’s finest jazz composer/piano players and it is my hope that this top class album will bring him the attention and wider audience that artistry as rich and varied as his deserves.