Blue Shroud Band

It was historian Simon Schama’s analysis of Picasso’s painting in his TV series “The Power of Art” that drew me into the world of “Guernica” and the resonances that have accompanied its history. Not that I needed reminding, but it triggered off thoughts about 20th/21st century abominations that have occurred under the umbrella of power, domination and obfuscation. Here was a painting that had a message that I needed to access. What seemed certain to me: a piece of music could be written reflecting the actualities of the subject matter. One that would indicate the power of the human spirit to withstand the oppression of tyrants.

Assembling an international team of musicians that were adaptable and able to co-exist in the worlds of improvisation as well as baroque music was essential to this project. Fragments of H. I. F. Biber and J.S. Bach included in the score were, I felt, needed to elevate the listener to a particular aural sensitivity; and baroque violin, viola, oboe and serpent offered the unique colours I was looking for.

For the expectant listener, I should point out that despite the inclusion of the Biber and Bach fragments, there is no attempt at “jazzing up” or creating “crossover” music. As in concerts by the Homburger/Guy Duo, early music sits side by side with contemporary modes of expression, the rhetoric of each being sufficient to bridge the centuries.

A painting like Guernica is obviously strong on the visual message but is essentially mute for the purposes of providing words for the ensemble’s vocalist Savina Yannatou. Discussing the project with Irish poet Kerry Hardie, she was enticed to create “Symbols of Guernica” which, as she said, could be used as the text for my composition either in fragments or its entirety.

Additionally she offered two further verses for the end. This generous submission became the backbone of the piece as I negotiated the structure appropriate to the subject matter.

Whilst THE BLUE SHROUD reflects on the human condition and the continued suffering and violence in the world, seen through the lens of Picasso’s iconic painting it is certainly not meant to be an overt political statement. It is a composition that presents superb musicians in a creative scenario that reflects my humble belief that compassion is still a currency open to all, with the ultimate hope that humanity might at some stage learn from history.

Barry Guy

Die Analyse des Kunsthistorikers Simon Schama von Picassos Gemälde in seiner Fern-sehreihe ‚The Power of Art‘ hatte meine Aufmerksamkeit auf Guernica gelenkt und auf den Nachhall, der seine Geschichte begleitet hat. Nicht, dass eine Erinnerung nötig gewesen wäre, aber es war dennoch ein Anlass nachzudenken über die Gräuel des 20. und 21. Jahrhunderts, die sich unter dem Deckmantel von Macht, Herrschaft und Ver-schleierung ereignet haben. Hier war ein Gemälde mit einer Botschaft, die ich aufgrei-fen musste. Eines schien mir sicher: man konnte ein Musikstück schreiben, das die Ak-tualität des Themas widerspiegelt. Ein Stück, das die Kraft des menschlichen Geistes zeigt, der Unterdrückung durch Tyrannei zu widerstehen.

Das Wesentliche an diesem Projekt war es, eine internationale Gruppe von Musikern zusammenzustellen, die offen und fähig waren, sich sowohl in der Welt der Improvisa-tion als auch der Barockmusik zu bewegen. Nach meinem Gefühl sollten musikalische Fragmente von H. I. F. Biber und J.S. Bach in die Komposition aufgenommen werden, um den Hörer zu dieser ganz besonderen Klangsensibilität zu führen; die Barockgeige, Viola, Oboe und Serpent boten die einzigartigen Klangfarben, die ich suchte.

Für den jetzt erwartungsvollen Hörer sollte ich darauf hinweisen, dass dies trotz der Einbeziehung von Biber‘schen und Bach‘schen Fragmenten kein Versuch einer ‚verjaz-zenden Musik‘ oder des Crossover ist. Genau wie bei den Konzerten des Duos Hombur-ger/Guy steht Frühe Musik Seite an Seite mit gegenwärtigen Ausdrucksformen, und die ‚sprachlichen‘ Möglichkeiten beider reichen aus, um die Jahrhunderte zwischen ihnen zu überbrücken.

Ein Gemälde wie Guernica hat offenkundig eine starke visuelle Botschaft, bleibt aber grundsätzlich stumm, wenn es darum geht, Worte zu liefern für die Vokalistin des En-sembles, Savina Yannatou. Ein Gespräch mit der irischen Schriftstellerin Kerry Hardie über das Projekt regte diese an, den Text ‚Symbols of Guernica‘ zu schreiben, den sie mir für die Komposition, in Teilen oder auch als Ganzes, überließ. Darüber hinaus stell-te sie zwei weitere Verse für den Schluss zur Verfügung. Dieser großzügige Beitrag wurde zum Grundgerüst dieses Stückes, während ich an einer Struktur arbeitete, die dem Thema angemessen war.

Obwohl sich THE BLUE SHROUD mit der menschlichen Existenz und dem fortwähren-dem Leid und der Gewalt in der Welt beschäftigt, betrachtet durch Picassos prägendes Gemälde, soll das Stück auf keinen Fall ein rein politisches Statement sein.

Es ist eine Komposition, die hervorragende Musiker in einem kreativen Szenario prä-sentiert, und die meine Auffassung widerspiegelt, dass Mitgefühl immer noch eine Option für uns alle ist, schlussendlich mit der Hoffnung, dass die Menschheit vielleicht irgendwann aus ihrer Geschichte lernt.

Barry Guy

Starting with a mercurial exchange between Agusti Fernandez' piano and Pursglove's trumpet, "Bull / Mother and Child / Warrior" comprises a series of improvised duets and trios, mixed with orchestral interjections. Later after an initial martial cadence, "Light Bearer" turns jazzy, with Michael Niesemann's alto saxophone ramping up the intensity in a tour de force for the reedman's thickened vocalized wail, and the orchestra metamorphoses into a surging big band behind him.
The group of Ben Dwyer's Spanish guitar, Savina Yannatou's voice and the leader's bass plays a key role, and appears at the heart of the sections denoted as "Songs." Here Guy creates lyrical backdrops for Irish poet Kerrie Hardie's text, sung/spoken with great emotional weight by Yannatou. Elsewhere she uses her wordless voice to convey confusion, fear, anguish and defiance. At other times she also intones the words "Resolution 1441 and "Weapons of Mass Destruction," as Hardie encourages insertion of excerpts from the UN Resolution into the performance.
To offset the spiky improv and dense ensembles Guy co-opts some of the loveliest melodies ever written, creating settings for extracts from H.I.F. Biber's "Mystery Sonatas" and J.S. Bach's "B minor Mass." In this context, Guy uses these reimaginings to signify humanity, indomitable spirit and ultimately hope. At over 70-minutes, The Blue Shroud constitutes a complex and expansive work. While there is a lot to take in which requires repeated listens to appreciate, the payback is more than worth the effort.
(John Sharpe, All About Jazz, September 17, 2016)

– Und gleich wollen wir ganz prinzipiell daran erinnern, dass die Qualität von Musik eben nicht an deren Absicht (und mag diese auch edel sein) zu messen ist, sondern an ihrer Wirkung.
Als Rezipienten darf man sich auch die Freiheit nehmen, das Trompetensolo zu Beginn von «The Blue Shroud» nicht gleich als militärisches Signal zu deuten, sondern als komprimiertes Signet und schlanken Einstieg in ein mitunter üppiges, jedenfalls facettenreiches Stück.
Barry Guy hat die Komposition für die Blue Shroud Band geschrieben – ein 14-köpfiges, hochkarätig besetztes Ensemble. Zu drei Saxofonen (Michael Niesemann, Per Texas Johannsson, Julius Gabriel), drei Blechblasinstrumenten (Percy Pursglove, Torben Snekkestad, Michel Godard) und drei Streichern (Maya Homburger, Fanny Paccoud, Barry Guy) kommen hier zwei Schlagzeuger (Lucas Niggli, Ramón López), Piano (Augusti Fernandez), Gitarre (Ben Dwyer) sowie die Stimme von Savina Yannatou dazu.
Wenn Streicher mit Saxofonisten und Perkussionisten in der gleichen Band spielen, mag bald eine Kombination von Jazz und Klassik vermutet werden. Und damit liegt man bei Barry Guy nicht falsch (tatsächlich hat er die eigene Musik überdies mit Stücken von Heinrich Ignaz Franz Biber und Johann Sebastian Bach ergänzt).
Stringente Dramatik
Allerdings sind die scheinbar heterogenen Komponenten in «The Blue Shroud» in ein stringentes musikalisches Geschehen eingepasst, bei dem man Genregrenzen ebenso vergisst wie die Übergänge zwischen komponierten Vorgaben und Improvisation. Oft gruppieren sich die Instrumente um Gesang (oder gesprochene Lyrik). Immer wieder aber wird man auch durch schroffe Kontraste und durch die vielfältigen Möglichkeiten des schillernden Klangkörpers überrascht.
So steigert sich das Tutti mitunter in ein Stimmengewirr oder in eine an Coltranes «Ascension» erinnernde Üppigkeit. Dann wiederum verzweigt sich der Gesamtklang in die einzelnen Register. Besonders in Erinnerung bleibt etwa der Dialog des Trompeters Percy Pursglove mit dem Pianisten Augusti Fernandez. Oder das zarte Trio von Savina Yannatous Stimme mit Geige und Kontrabass.

(Ueli Bernays, NZZ 19.9.2016 )

Fernandez' first gesture was electrifying: swiping a wood block across the strings inside the piano to magic a wild gust of sound. It announced a panoply of percussiveness from which occasional plucked notes materialized as if by accident. Few other pianists can equal the Catalan's dexterity and resourcefulness in extracting maximum potential from his instrument. Amid the multiplying overtones, Fernandez drew out an almost vocal quality from the piano interior. As a very hushed groaning passage subsided, Evans joined the pianist.

With the bell of his trumpet over the mic, he created a resounding bass drone, which the pianist punctuated with shrill plucks from the piano interior. Purposeful interplay ensued, testament to prior collaboration, not only on disc with Mats Gustafsson, but also as a duo on tour. Fernandez paralleled the American's rapid fire exhortations with dense muscular runs. One wonderful moment of synchronicity saw both seemingly independently settle on a trilled phrase. Evans' speed of thought and reaction provides a severe test for anyone he shares the stage with, but Fernandez was equal to the task.

Likely the duo of Evans and Norwegian reedman Snekkestad will also surface on disc at some point, such was the success of their inaugural meeting. After exchanging growls and quiet susurrations, Snekkestad using a trumpet with a reed mouthpiece, the pair exuberantly braided squalling tones. Snekkestad sneaked his soprano into his mouth next to the reed trumpet to conjure lacerating exclamations, before focusing wholly on the straight horn. Seated next to each other, circular breathing through a brass lexicon, the twosome appeared every inch terrible twins.

Yannatou has featured in previous Guy projects, including “Time Passing” at the 2013 Huddersfield Contemporary Music Festival, as well as in a pairing captured live on Attikos (Maya, 2010). On this occasion Yannatou constrained her wordless ululations, muffled stutters and introspective screams within a low level passion, which allowed full rein to Guy's exquisite filigree runs. Arco swoops interrupted flurries of pizzicato notes and slurs akin to Yannatou's vocal sighs. It was as if they conversed in an intimate discourse in an alien language complete with its own syntax, which was at times stirring, mournful and ethereal.

Day Two

The second evening furnished a study in polarities. The opening combination of Guy, drummer Lucas Niggli and violinist Maya Homburger performed "Rondo for Nine Birds", a composition by Guy inspired by a picture which adorns the wall of their home. In the through-composed piece, the players returned at regular intervals to a jaunty ditty, interposed between diverse vignettes. Niggli interpreted the repeating theme differently each time, varying between fingers and sticks, and between exact and loose, while Homburger and Guy's parts intertwined, sometimes austere but at others nervy and staccato.

If much of the first set dwelt in the chamber, then the quartet of Niggli, drummer Ramon Lopez, Fernandez and Evans probably resided in the garage, with a default setting of all out aural assault. Evans' bravura trumpet cut through the waves of noise with aplomb, dipping into the troughs and skimming above the surf. He and Fernandez once again united in a high energy face off, fuelled by a clattering accompaniment. But there were astonishing contrasts too, as when Evans key pad popping prompted the Spaniard to delve into piano's innards. But the respite was brief. Fernandez hammered the keys, smashed his forearms and used his fingers in sewing machine motion, while Niggli excitedly bounced on his stool translating the fervor into apocalyptic tumult.

Day Three

On the third night high points included the duo of Guy and alto saxophonist Michael Niesemann, the larger grouping growing out of the initial threesome of Michel Godard, French violist Fanny Paccoud and Guy, and the Aurora Trio with Evans and Yannatou. Niesemann alerted unsuspecting listeners to his qualities with a searing clarion call on his alto saxophone. It heralded not a maelstrom, but an interlude of subdued intensity in which plaintive alto vied with fluttering bass. That pattern of alternating animation and meditation continued, as Niesemann's short guttural phrases matched Guy's sudden switches between bow and hands. Such was the combustive zeal, that their first selection peaked in frenetic oratory, as Niesemann screeched multiphonics, with the veins on his neck looking ready to pop.

Paradoxically given their backgrounds, Paccoud, Godard and Guy gave rise to some of the most swinging sections of the three nights. From the serpent, a convoluted wooden ancestor of the tuba, Godard drew a jazzy buzz, which encouraged Guy into a relaxed lope. When Paccoud entered from backstage she picked out Godard's rhythm on her viola, before sawing a bluesy wail. Once Swedish reedman Per Texas Johansson joined on clarinet his jagged lines brought about a return to the accustomed abstraction, which turned into a garrulous swelling collective with the addition of Julius Gabriel's baritone saxophone and Snekkestad's reed trumpet. At one point Johansson arrested the whole audience's attention by affixing a balloon to the mouth of his clarinet, which he inflated and then allowed to deflate with a booming gasp.

Guy programmed the Aurora Trio for the final set of the three nights. Completed by Fernandez and Lopez, the trio's blend of soulful balladry and spiky invention is immortalized on three acclaimed outings: Aurora (Maya, 2006), Morning Glory (Maya, 2010), and A Moment's Liberty (Maya, 2013). However tonight they were supplemented by Evans' trumpet and Yannatou's voice, and as a consequence eschewed the melancholic lyricism which so strongly pervades their repertoire for a set of daredevil flights.

A special bond was evident between the members of the Aurora Trio, manifest in the shared rhythmic attack between Guy and Lopez, and in the instantaneous trafficking between the bassist and the pianist. Fernandez spent most of the set with at least one hand under the piano lid. Evans was once again a scorching presence. His narrative ripened and evolved at breathtaking pace, transmuting into a stream of highly detailed fizzing sound. Yannatou took the opportunities as they arose in the ebb and flow to interpolate her wordless vocals. It made a cracking finale which engendered keen anticipation for the final show by the entire aggregation.

This unique collection of musicians and their compound skill sets were matched together for a special vision, one crisscrossing past and present, combining seemingly contrary views, voices and methodologies to create a new kind of composition, one that reached beyond collage to a polysemous musical discourse, born at once in a score and the accelerated evolution of free improvisation.

The debut of the 75-minute Blue Shroud brought these contrasting virtuosities together. Inspired by Picasso’s Guernica, Guy named the piece for the blue shroud that was placed over a tapestry copy at the UN building during Colin Powell’s 2003 declaration of war against Iraq. As vast as Picasso’s painting, Guy’s work is equally ambitious, a great musical meditation on the horrors of war and the quest for compassion. Constructing songs on poems by Irish poet Kerry Hardie, Guy employed methods ranging from atonality and Spanish flamenco to a gorgeous chorale of high-pitched reeds, contrasting lyrical passages with bursts of violent energy and lacing passages of free improvisation through and over both, with Yannatou singing text in four languages, blending formal declaration with speaking in tongues. One uncanny component was the dramatic inclusion of pieces by the 17th century composer H.I.F. Biber and Bach, images of compassion and respite, beautifully realized and continuous with Guy’s own lyrical episodes. It’s a major work, bridging musical chasms, and should be widely heard.

First of the main sections is “Owed to J.S.”, a punning homage to drummer John Stevens providing one of the highlights. Staccato rhythms crisscross the ensemble while Yannatou vocalizes wordlessly. Cacophonic backing suddenly coalesces into a careening riff shifting in and out of synchrony before a slow moving melody opens up the piece for smaller improvising units. Notable among these is the duet between Julius Gabriel’s rampaging overblown baritone saxophone and Swiss drummer Lucas Niggli’s crisply articulated tumult. Whip-crack ensemble interjections increase the intensity even more, until the ensemble subsumes the whimpering saxophone and a countermelody predominates.
Fernández assumes even greater prominence during “Sleeping Furiously”, uneasy but inward looking in the first part against a pensive orchestral chorus, but then more bombastic in the second where hammered tremolos ring out against gliding strings, evoking the title by suggesting something unwillingly tethered. The final “Strange Loops” is the most dense and daunting work, blending woozy swirls, jagged ostinatos, abrupt silences and sweeping orchestral phrases. It once again features Yannatou, whose vocal gymnastics encompass shrieks, whispers and yodels but also reprises the poems, lending a satisfying unity to the program.
The first four discs present groupings ranging from solos to nine-strong ensembles, unified by their high quality yet varying dramatically in style, from the Baroque repertoire of violinist Maya Homburger to quick-fire improv exchange to all-out aural assault like that engendered by Fernández, Guy and Norwegian reedplayer Torben Snekkestad. The first disc starts with a wonderfully programmed sequence of solo pieces: circular breathed trumpet spluttering from Percy Pursglove; Homburger’s stunning recital of H.I.F. Biber’s “Passacaglia in G minor”; then another continuous line from Gabriel on baritone saxophone, which in its multiple strands manages both to echo the simultaneous string voicings of the Biber while contemplating stormier weather.
Fernández is involved in many of the most outstanding offerings. French violist Fanny Paccoud shines during a quicksilver duet with him, evolving from clanking dissonance to stately grandeur, while German alto saxophonist Michael Niesemann embarks on flights of fancy paced by piano’s rumble and chime. Among the more unlikely yet successful combinations are a bottom-end extravaganza by Frenchman Michel Godard on tuba along with Guy and Spanish drummer Ramón López and a rambunctious trio for Guy and both drummers. Other peaks include an exciting blowout initiated by a rousing free jazz riff from Swiss saxophonist Jürg Wickihalder, along with Gabriel and López, and an extemporized off-kilter march from Irish guitarist Ben Dwyer, Godard and Niesemann that ultimately heads west.
Taylor once said that if he played bass he would play it like Guy. He would surely have appreciated how that singular style has been expanded to orchestral dimensions.
For more information, visit : www.nottwo.com