MUSIC

The first of two unearthings of the racket made by Derek Bailey and pals at his Company Week festivities in 1982. This is waaay out there improv experimentation which sees musicians like Julie Tippets, Motoharu Yoshizawa and George Lewis go into battle to see who can come up with the most ludicrous squeak. Faint hearted step aside, this is prime freeform improvisation with an all important humorous streak.

Epiphany  i-ˈpi-fə-nē  (1) a manifestation of the essential nature of something (usually sudden) (2) an intuitive grasp of reality through something (usually simple and striking) (3) an illuminating discovery or disclosure.
All three definitions apply perfectly to this span of music recorded at London’s ICA in July 1982. It’s a miracle of group interaction, wonderfully paced, moving steadily between moments of mounting intensity and tension. The passage about halfway through — when Derek Bailey’s harmonics ring out above a sheen of inside piano tremolos and shimmering electronics, topped off by Julie Tippetts’ soaring vocalese — is simply sublime. After which it’s fun to try and tell the two pianists apart. Are those runs Ursula Oppens, with her formidable technique honed from years performing some of the twentieth century’s most difficult notated new music, or are those Keith Tippett’s crunchy jazz zigzags? Are those intriguing twangs from one of Akio Suzuki’s invented instruments or could they be Fred Frith’s or Phil Wachsmann’s electronics? Bah, who cares?

There’s plenty of room for the more delicate instruments too, like Anne LeBaron’s harp picking its way gingerly through a pin-cushion of pings and scratches from Bailey and bassist Motoharu Yoshizawa. Of course, some performers are instantly recognisable: Tippetts, as lyrical and flighty on flute as when she sings, Phil Wachsmann, sinuous and sensitive on violin, and trombonist George Lewis, who, as John Zorn once put it, swings his motherfucking ass off.

So many magical moments abound, from the opening dawn chorus of Tippetts’ voice and Frith’s guitar swooping through a rainforest of exquisite piano cascades, to the Zen calm of the closing moments.

Epiphany, indeed.

Prime improvisations from masters of the genre such as Fred Frith, Keith Tippett, Derek Bailey and Ursula Oppens on this unearthed treasure where violin, guitar, double bass, flute and sax (the latter compared to a flock of geese) all vying for attention. The music is both ear hurtingly spiky and humorously daft as the musicians seemingly go into battle with their various instruments.

Exhilarating, previously unreleased recordings by Derek Bailey and his guests at Company Week in 1983: Jamie Muir, Evan Parker, Hugh Davies, Joëlle Léandre, John Corbett, Peter Brötzmann, Vinko Globokar, Ernst Reijseger and J.D. Parran. What¡Çs remarkable throughout this album is the respect and affection the musicians show for each other, exemplifying the dictionary definition of ¡Æcompany¡Ç as ¡Æthe fact or condition of being with another or others, especially in a way that provides friendship and enjoyment.¡Ç It starts with Landslide, a brilliant, spiky, spluttering, twanging reunion of Music Improvisation Company members Evan Parker (tenor sax), Hugh Davies (electronics) and Jamie Muir (percussion). Next up, Seconde Choix, with Joëlle Léandre¡Çs close-miked prepared bass and Bailey¡Çs acoustic guitar seemingly heading in different directions before coming together miraculously in just four minutes. The opening of First Choice, a duet between Bailey and Muir, is a revelation for those who moan that the guitarist plays too many notes. His patient and truly exquisite exploration of harmonics is beautifully counterpointed by Muir¡Çs metallic percussion. On Pile Ou Face (Heads Or Tails) Davies concentrates on his high register oscillators, carefully shadowed by Parker¡Çs soprano until Léandre¡Çs deft, springy pizzicato lures them into the playground. JD In Paradise is a surprisingly delicate wind quartet, with John Corbett¡Çs trumpet, fragile and Don Cherry-like, punctuating the sinuous interplay between Peter Brötzmann and J.D. Parran (on sopranos, flutes and clarinet), while trombonist Vinko Globokar growls approvingly in the background. Igor Stravinsky¡Çs definition of music as the ¡Æjeu de notes¡Ç comes to mind listening to Bailey¡Çs duet with cellist Ernst Reijseger (executing fiendish double-stopped harmonics with staggering ease). Technical virtuosity has never sounded so effortless – it is, as its title Een Plezierig Stukje simply states, a fun piece. On the closing La Horda, Bailey and Reijseger team up with the horns for what on paper looks like it could be rough and rowdy sextet but which turns out once more to be a thoughtful, spacious exchange of ideas, shapes and colours.