Sebastian Łukasik Knurów

There is something unique in the music of pianist Giovanni Mirabassi. Not that his approach to improvisation is as it could be typed in a Brad Mehldau example, not because his skill is more famous (it is not less either) than that of any other famous jazz pianist. It is more tenuous, more underground. There is the deep fabric of identity: in his attitude, his temper, his choices and his meditations. A feeling of reverie. Romantic things to say as I think.

When I write romance, I do not mean that romance is slowly now, of what imagery was widespread in (silly stereotype of the poet transit arm crowded with bouquets of lilac), but this original romantic, philosophical, child Germans then adopted by the Latin world. This combination of sensitivity and restrained violence, introspection rebellious beauty and fantasy, this love of melancholy: we find it in the music of Mirabassi. But also. Something Italian, very Italian. The acceptance of another strong identity: lyrical, demonstrative, almost shameless, passionate, abundant, torrential.

This singularity Mirabassi holds perhaps all these years he learned the piano by himself, constantly discouraged by a father yet music lover who does not wish to see become a penniless musician. Child of Perugia, Mirabassi therefore wait to have sixteen years to study with a master and finally discover jazz. What were the songs preferred by Mirabassi, then place it on his keyboard, before he found Trane, Monk, Powell, Art Tatum and others. The tarantella, old popular songs of the region of Umbria, dripping with sweet melodies sung by a caricature of the Italian voice hoarse and hair slicked back? Some classic tunes, played by ear, repeated over and over so, all this agglomerated necessarily constituted a folklore internal staff. Everything comes perhaps from there. Great musicians are unique because they have particular histories, because they are porous, something has twisted. They are, in their way, a beautiful representation of defects imagined by Darwin.

At 16, we said, Mirabassi began his studies. They should already be well underway since a year later only, trumpeter Chet Baker and commits debauchery at his side. Then it was Steve Grossman, who takes him under his wing. And others. What is so recalcitrant father? The story does not say. The a vita va piano piano!

20 years later, Mirabassi, who now resides in France is one of the most leading experts of his instrument, a sort of balance between unbridled romantic, joyous improviser and composer without apparent limit. A symbol of impeccable elegance. Returning to his discography, you realize the slow progression of the musician. "Architecture," "Avanti", "Prima O Poi", "Cantopiano" even lyricism constant will always move forward. If hypnotic earn his compositions with time harmonic complexity, if they still show the time advancing, a willingness to explore new lands, still the same frame, same old identity Italian who married so strokes and tenderness, joy of being alive and melancholy solitude ingrained, inherent to the human condition.

Over time, it also seems that Mirabassi will be found training that suits him perfectly. A trio designed to offer maximum freedom. In this set, we find bassist Gianluca Renzi and drummer / percussionist Leon Parker. The ideal complex. Sensitive guys who can get angry and then play in silence, whip and caress, carry and slowly let it fall. Musicians who share the same love and patience, a love themes, melodic developments. Musicians free, a little angry, a little jokers, guys that are doing a theater from scratch, in just a few accents. Renzi-virtuoso, the pimp and the usurer. Parker, a drummer with a thousand rhythms, which you transformed an idea into a few scholarly syncope. Mirabassi, the brave, the fierce, impetuous. These guys are resilient. The last two discs of the group, "Terra Furiosa" and "Out of Tracks" will tell you better than me. They are genuine internal travel. Rhythmic, jerky, and then untied. Demanding and simple. The themes are bop and captivating, then Latin, then canto. We hear the sonatas here, there "Song of the Partisans", nestled blues here, tortured, then races euphoric. Respecting the identity of each to serve for a common pact, sealed. A pact with Italian! Everyone knows we do not mess with oaths. That are of love, friendship. They sing patriotic songs or the open (s) world (s).

Yes, there is indeed something unique in Mirabassi. A familiar voice, embedded in you, whom you speak, that tells you otherwise things we said to you a thousand times. Who, long after listening, still beats you.

The myspace Giovanni Mirabassi

His official website

Photo

Bloating After Umbilical Hernia Surgery

A follow-Hunted

Slavs
sent creatisweb

Welding Goggles At Home Depot

cross

As evening in January 2007, New Morning is shielded. Chris Potter, Craig Taborn, Adam Rogers and Nate Smith will play to an audience almost won in advance. At each concert the quartet, the opinions are unanimous: the sound, as nerve, swing, groove, all notes in the wind. The lucky ones who one day saw Chris Potter on stage has always throat full of words, then they rustle their healthy rumors. On an annual concert in this mecca of jazz in Paris, they make an event. And they are right. It is, one day we will realize how

... That night, when Potter walks on stage, these musicians behind him fiddling with their cables, their pots, tend to the ear hear the gentle breath intoxicating expiring their amps, as it does on eggshells, almost apologetically. He says that tonight they'll play new stuff to record a concert at the Village Vanguard. "And, thinks it is not quite the New Morning? It is not enough property to warrant registration, the rest of us? . And we know that in itself is said that because we do not so much the novelty of it, finally the unknown mean, yes, the scary unknown terrain. To you as to others, must not lie. We prefer to know warm, at home, take time to tame, at home, you can go back, go forward. But where we go there! Chris Potter alone can afford such a thing, at other times, we whistled genies, Trane, Cannonball Adderley and for less than that.

That evening, the group is seeking. Potter himself, tortures the reed of his saxophone, falter keys of his instrument, looking, digging, digging, clearing. He tries his new tricks . His game is usually so nimble, so hot, became almost cold, opaque, rough, almost angry. There are moments of pure beauty, while improvising on "Togo" for example, but it is as if this beauty sounded a bit hollow, as if this quest insatiable, restless, urgent parasitized his game to the point of the gut. It is an empty beauty, a beauty that takes you by surprise.

Behind him, the guitarist Adam Rogers, still looking for more, and then further. The compositions are not of him, and everything had to be tamed, like a damn zoo, zebras, elephants, lions and raccoons. Some of his sentences seem absurd. Too complex, too thoughtful, concerned. Music tames the more he does tames. One feels the tiger's under the hood, you do not hear it roar, he meows, yes, it's a fierce meow, meow but a anyway. This guy is told, is still a fantastic musician. He expects a fair bit of foolishness to take all the wear and simply on his shoulders mover. Curly hair, shoulder length, tied behind his head, the guitarist seems studious, diligent, good student. He sows the notes as an underdog expensive, it is equally palms, fists full of trouble sometimes, sand between your fingers bonded to the skin of our hands on contact with sweat.

The purpose of all this is that it is a privilege total ultimate attend this. It uneven, sometimes boring, then at other times it bites you in the neck and blow you ear. It takes you from discovery to discovery, sometimes you shake your ass we put on her chair and we annoyed, impatient we are ready to stand and a bunch of Found notes so well that it is quite disgusting you flip as if you were a small leaf fall crushed any crap!

A month later the quartet recorded his Live at the Village Vanguard in New York. The same material has been worked each evening before. The frame is still beautiful, without a trace of wear. And from the first note, the term argue that all land now known. They know any black currant, the slightest bumps, they did it break more kidneys, no more break their impulses, they travel in it. Potter was the sound that would make the dead rise, this great shamelessness that makes you believe that anything is possible and then the notes from you thinking: "How is this possible, which is what this guy stops where are they? "This is not the complexity of the compositions. In reality, it is a Jazz simple, sometimes as simple as a song. The themes are sometimes desperate beauty, childlike, deconstructed and then suddenly, turned upside down.

Adam Rogers, lost yesterday, a fire in their fingers tonight in February. In unison with its leader, he wears a simple music, driven solely by the happiness of improvisation. No economy, no words whispered in the ear of an audience of cruising. The notes scroll, they do not comply with the moods, territories, the color of the soil and influences, they are particle accelerators, they make you pass the cock in ass, bright, contrasting dark and scarlet, white and poisonous. On "Train", osmosis is total disbelief, we do not really believe what you hear. On "Viva Las Vilnius" is almost weep and "Pop Tune # 1" is itself a miracle. An improvisation of almost abnormal patience, softness almost refined. Brace yourself, there's something sweet in there, oozing from the guitar strings, sweet like a cocktail full of color, those with palm trees on it, it's almost a machine on which you could hug a woman or a man passing through, those that do that because of colors of summer. But they're underway, it takes you, guys are blackballed from the village vanguard, we hear their sighs, their cries, we hear grimaces that distort their faces, the back and forth waving their bodies, their little red lips eaten . Too good, you know, too good! And the witness is given to Potter that is something else, anything else, anything else, always something else.

friends, each color. In two nights, Adam Rogers made me move from caution displayed on blind adherence. As the title of this fabulous cake as a full treasure chest, he was General concrete foam makes me mute the first class, which step by step, happy, show me the red line that I must follow.


The myspace Adam Rogers

listen Adam Rogers on the Live at the Vanguard Vliiage

This post is part of a project of the now famous Z band, group variable geometry involving bloggers stamped jazz. We have chosen to speak this time a jazz guitarist who is close to our heart. This issue could be titled "Strings and souls." Or "Divine Finger", hehe!

Here are other contributions must read (which I will hasten to do so, for that matter):

Doudourou on Lionel Loueke
Master chronic on John Mc Laughlin
Jazz O center on John Scofield
Mysterio jazz Gabor Szabo
ptilou's blog Mike Stern
Jipes Mood on Charlie Hunter
Cultural Property on Manu Codjia
Jazz Chills : Kurt Rosenwinkel
Native Dancer Marc Ribot
Noctanbule jazz Barney Kessel
Z and jazz, meanwhile, made a beautiful TOC Ad!

Amman Sheraton Sauna Gay

Chris Potter Quartet (w. Adam Rogers) - Follow the Red Line / Live at the Village Vanguard

Thank You For Sharing In Our Special Day

Voodoo Girl

Because Sisters Spiritual Edge also love poetry ...

Voodoo Girl

Her skin is white cloth,

and she's all sewn apart

and she has Many colored pine

sticking out of Her Heart.


She has a beautiful set of hypno
-disk eyes,
The Ones That She uses
to hypnotize guys.


She has many different zombies
who are deeply in her trance.
She even has a zombie
who was originally from France.



But she knows she has a curse on her,
a curse she cannot win.
For if someone gets too close to her,
the pins stick farther in.

Tim Burton, The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy

Image : Sally ( Nightmare Before Christmas ) by Daekazu