Swing 2010 and Fapy Lafertin Review

Swing 2010 and Fapy Lafertin

Resembling a group of old mafia dons taking time out from their usual routine of playing dominos under olive trees and planning family business, Swing 2010 brings ‘Gypsy Jazz’ to the Edinburgh Festival.

Despite the initially sleepy appearance of the group, there is some astonishingly accomplished guitar playing here. The genre has its roots with the Belgian guitarist Django Reinhardt, who developed a unique blend of traditional gypsy music with American jazz music in the 1930s and 40s. It’s an undeniably catchy and uplifting style.

One piece offered by Swing 2010 was reputably played by that legendary tale of Edwardian stoicism and lunacy: the string quartet on board the Titanic. Had Frapy and company been playing in place of the quartet, an otherwise polite and orderly evacuation may have slid into a happily nonchalant soiree on the deck, where despite increasingly icy feeling making its way up the passengers legs, the dancing and revelry would have continued. 

This, of course, is one of the problems with sitting down to watch Django-inspired music; not that it’s on dry land instead of a sinking ship, but rather it is better suited to provide atmosphere and depth to social occasions. Indeed, despite the fantastic spectacle of Fapy effortlessly bounding across his guitar fret, this is music not best suited to careful study or sit-down-analysis. 

Swinging for Basie with Brian Kellock and Dennis Rowland Review

Swinging for Basie with Brian Kellock and Dennis Rowland

Few mediums are as good at evoking the spirit of the times as contemporary music. While this says very little about our current deficit of attention and obsession for youth, Swinging for Basie teases out the spirit, seduction and glamour of a musical genre formed from the melting pot the US in the 1930s. 

Marshalling the Edinburgh Jazz Festival Orchestra, Joe Temperley guided us through a performance of numbers like Shiny Stocking, 1 o’Clock Jump and April in Paris. The show was not lacking in vocal talent, as Denis Rowland slid on in the second half with his smooth baritone. Spanning a period of twenty years from the 1930s to the 1950s, Joe highlights the show with some personal anecdotes in his distinctive accent, which sways between New Jersey and Edinburgh. 

The music sparkles in this performance, and there was ample opportunity for the orchestra to show of their skills of improvisation. It’s a shame this music is so frequently condemned to old folk’s homes or gangster films; it would make a fantastic night out and welcome change from the modern take on dance music. 

Melting Pot Review

Melting Pot

I always feel a pang of guilty pleasure entering the Voodoo Rooms at certain hours of the day. Through the drizzle and across the shiny wet cobble stones, past the stray cats lurking, drunks slumped and waitresses smoking fly fags; beyond the industrial sized bins and second hand smells wafting from restaurant kitchens: the scene has more than a whiff of the golden age of gangsters and jazz music. 

Alas, the Moscow Mule drained before the show was blandly legal, and served by a bored T-shirt clad member of the iTunes generation. Nevertheless, the moody interior of the Voodoo Rooms is well chosen for an act like Melting Pot. 

The seven piece ‘Soul-Jazz-Funk’ band provides an adrenaline fuelled and raucous performance. Steele’s shrill and often hyperactive trumpet nicely balances out Subie Coleman’s smoky alto. Peppered with some impressive solos, especially from Steele’s animated trumpet, the group evidently take a great deal of joy in their improvisations. The show also remains accessible, with Jefferson Airplane and Shirley Bassey covers interspersed.

As with any artists who love their craft, it was impossible for the enthusiasm emanating from the stage not to infect the sweaty scrum of an audience, who by the end of the performance were baying for more. A solid and energetic performance.

Melba Joyce, with special guest Duke Heitger Review

Melba Joyce, with special guest Duke Heitger

Melba Joyce continues to fall in and out of love. She probably shouldn’t be telling us stuff like this, but hey-ho. She continually intersperses her songs with some commendably frank personal feelings. How very honest; how very American. Unfortunately something of a communication barrier exists between North East Scotland and the north side of Manhattan, and her tales fail to resonate with the audience. Surely a bit cold and taciturn? No, wait, this is just Edinburgh.

Musically Melba’s ‘good time jazz’ is the audio equivalent of a good mellow bourbon; audibly sliding around our senses, releasing warm, relaxing flavours. Shimmying around in a gorgeous gold dress against a deep blue curtain, Joyce has a genuineness and ease about her. Occasionally she is joined by trumpeter and assassin impersonator, Duke Heitger, who slips on stage in his tux, before screwing in a mute like a silencer on a pistol.    This is good old-fashioned jazz, without the excessive wrestling with instruments and tearing up of musical notation that I am fast growing accustomed to at the Jazz Festival. 

Nevertheless the Festival, once again, while getting the music right, constrain the fluid and emotive sounds of jazz to the straightjacket of a very rigid sit-down performance. Rows and rows of seats face forward, in the Nuremberg-esque cabaret. Don’t even think about chatting to the person next to you. This is serious you know! 

As a result it would be unfair to say the music was without ‘edge’ because of its affinity to more traditional jazz. Instead, much of the problem is down to formatting, and an audience of buttoned up Morningside Calvinists attempting to relax. Surely the Festival could have provided some space for dancing? 

Lizard Lounge Review

Lizard Lounge

The Lizard Lounge was the place to be in the 90s for anyone in Edinburgh with a penchant for hip-hop, jazz or salsa. Rarely operating at anything less than full capacity, the event attracted talent from across the globe.

Despite its history, the one-off celebration proved to be accessible, with Joe Malik, the Edinburgh based artist, providing the initial performance. This never ventured too far into the realms of musical obscurity or pretension. Indeed there is always a danger with jazz – and especially acts like ‘The Rhumba Caliente Afro Latin Soul Orchestra’ – that those less acquainted with the complex genealogy of the genre will be warded off by semantics.

This initially inoffensive pace quickened when hip-hop star Ty appeared, and he wasted no time in diving into the front row to whip up some mayhem. 

It’s hard to fault the artists, but the general impression at the venue was hardly intimate. The show also lost momentum from the painfully slow changeover times between acts. How long does it take to set up a pair of bongos and test a microphone?

Not surprisingly there was also a certain amount of nostalgia from the Lizard veterans, complete with the familiar scene of a hip-hop artist firing off a string of dedications to the deceased. There was, however, a respectable sized crowd of fans too young to have caught the first incarnation of Lizard Lounge. A diverse bunch, they swaggered and traipsed in short skirts, suspenders, and heavy eye liner; sports jackets and Star Wars T-shirts. 

Safely ‘alternative’, like the music on offer this only occasionally went beyond the mildly entertaining, and failed to prove as arrestingly frank and interesting as some jazz music can. 

Hypnotic Brass Ensemble Review

Hypnotic Brass Ensemble

Strutting in from the South Side of Chicago, the self-made and refreshingly entrepreneurial brothers of the Hypnotic Brass Ensemble will challenge the way you think of brass bands, fusing rap, funk and ska. 

The word ‘unique’ is often bandied about willy-nilly by PR people and reviewers, but the dissonant chords produced by the group do instantly resonate as distinctive. Despite the usual frothy spiel about artistic influence and musical journeys, the music is indeed evocative of inner cities and Chicago; often slightly sinister, grimy or threatening, but also able to paint optimistic scenes of aspiration and excitement in urban America. 

Hypnotic, never missing an opportunity to present their street credentials, are born show men. Naturally and confidently they are able to rouse an initially reluctant audience to fervour, while theatrically mopping their brows and (oh my) peeling their tank tops off in the process. 

As you would expect there is something of a culture shock when Hypnotic set about busting some audiovisual cherries of the Edinburgh crowd. When the front man verbally assaulted the audience: ‘How you doin’ Edinburg!?’ he hollered. Quite unruffled, one native, glancing up from his pint, mumbled ‘fine’. Other communication breakdowns involved translating ‘Yeah yeah’ and ‘Aye’ from Chicago street lingo to broad Scots. 

This brass band is about as far from lederhosen or the Salvation Army as you can get, and much more entertaining. A testosterone charged and original performance.