
Band through trellis - photo by Roger Mitchell 5 July 2011
Launch number 2 of Shreveport Stomp last night with Allan Browne (drums), Marc Hannaford (piano) and Sam Anning (bass) at Uptown Jazz Cafe. Music that’s very Allan Browne-esque : standards but extended. Non-standards by composers who are responsible for other standards and of course ‘Shreveport Stomp’ itself, the first piece of jazz ever recorded. So I hear. I was so sorry to have missed the first launch but it was the day after the Melbourne International Jazz Festival finished and well, you know how that can feel! Everybody thought that Sam Anning who now lives in New York was heading home three weeks ago so it was all timed to make sure he’d be here for the launch of the CD but then he stayed longer and a second launch was organised. Yaay!
The night had a particular energy. The sometimes-rowdies were there – the musicians who occasionally cluster-chat and rumble at the short end of the bar, up near the toilets, ring-led by Tinky (or so it seems) and yet the background noise they generated kind of added to the night instead of detracting. [ Sometimes it sh*ts me and sometimes it doesn't]. The music took over I suppose. At one point, Allan, fishing for the name of a song the band had just played said ‘I feel as if I’ve been playing it all my life’. Hey, it didn’t feel that long to us! In fact at the end of the night many of us were surprised at the time. It flew on sonic wings. The crowd was… well, it was a crowd, which is always great to start with… and the music was happening beautifully and Sam’s going back to New York on Thursday so there was a tinge of sadness too. Happy / sad / happy / sad. And Al Browne silliness to boot. It’s not an Allan Browne evening without patter. We had patter with an accent, unintelligible patter. Bonus!
Like a gift, there was also a personal extra-ordinary musical moment too.
Every time I hear ‘Body and Soul’ I am overwhelmed. The number of times it has happened must have reached a critical mass; last night was the first time I realised there’s a pattern here! I never know what I’m listening to. Maybe that will change one day, but for now I’ll hear it and my world will stop and at the end of it I think ‘Wow! Wha’ happened? Where did I go? What was that tune?’ And somebody tells me and I think (and sometimes say) ‘OMG, that always happens when I hear “Body and Soul”‘
In the hands of Allan Browne, Sam Anning and Marc Hannaford last night – and particularly Marc Hannaford as the piano was my main focus throughout – the song took on a visceral presence.

Allan Browne - photo by Roger Mitchell 5 July 2011
I closed my eyes; the music seemed to require it. Soon, the sound is a shape. The shape of a bowl. Or a pie crust but the edges are jagged. No, not jagged exactly. Like the sides of the bowl or the crust are made from long rectangles. Side on, the edges have the same shape as a stylised container of chips on their ends in a paper container … hang on. Like piano keys. The same kind of shiny. The same kind of warm to the touch. Okay, I don’t touch piano keys very often but when I see them played they look like they should be warm. Marc Hannaford makes them look like they’re warm… but I digress. They are warm coloured, anyway. Corals, reds, warm shiny sides. That’s the edges of the bowl, and inside the this bowl or crust there is a shiny viscous liquid, constantly moving and changing, its surface bubbling but in an undulation of constant movement. Like claymation but softer. The movement in the viscous liquid matches the notes coming from the piano. I’d say relentless if that didn’t seem negative. Constant though, fluid, elastic, like skin. Music like skin??? No sharp bits, but it never stops. It’s everywhere and everything. The contents of the bowl and the bowl itself are made of the same thing, this warm coral, red liquid / solid everchanging container / contained.
When I open my eyes, it’s gone, but it lingers and when I try to explain to Marc later, I realise it probably sounds a bit intense and weird, so I figure I should just jot down the main bits and blog it ‘tomorrow’. Which is today.
Which is why it all begins with ‘There was this bowl, see…’