Fake Jazz Friday: An experimental review of experimental noise

Those of us not willing to brave the Cobalt(Girls! Girls! Girls!) can go to Western Front for Fake Jazz Fridays, to see what our neighbours are up to in the experimental, DIY, punk-crossed-with-noise-and jazz music scene…

Because you played with your back to me, and this made me mad for no reason I could understand

And so I took a dislike to the back of your head

And the shape of your butt

Which were all I had to look at

Because you played hunched over your guitar, pounding on the instrument with your fist, before falling over onto the floor
And I couldn’t hear anything that corresponded to the action

And from the back it looked like masturbation

Not much benefit to others.

It was better without earplugs, but not possible.

Because you dimmed the lights and played a flute

and I was so relieved to hear the sound of human breath

passing through a silver tube.

Because there was an advancing bass and percussion line with clarinet interjections

Movement, thank god!

And when the freaky electronic guitar noise started, I heard

Underground parkade nightmare music.
 

Time passed. Other women loosened their hair. I might have slept if it hadn’t been so loud.
 
Because my secret, worst suspicions seemed confirmed as you pounded your drums and screamed at us:
"We’re doing the minimum and that’s ok.”

And then you drove your point into the drum skin, splashing beer like your words

“Everybody can be made to eat shit/

It’s happening right now.”
 

Because the audience had dwindled as the night wore on,

And those of us still there became more alert

Because you were trying to communicate

Though your tempo and sound level stayed the same

Your voice only warping

From a shout to a scream.

 

You must not get much opportunity to practice at that volume.

  

The sound of your universe is the roar of inconsequential action.

And some of you still care. And some of you still act.

And some of you pound your fists in rage.

  

But maybe I’ll just make music myself.

  

Notes:  I asked Western Front ahead of time what they hoped to accomplish with Fake Jazz Fridays, and spokesperson Ben Wilson was clearly excited about the chance to program this underground, experimental music in the context of their broader new music programming.  Western Front doubtless reaches a different audience than the Cobalt punk/metal bar does, where these kinds of bands would perform regularly.  It’s good for both musicians and audiences to experience new venues and new music, respectively, so kudos to Western Front for taking on this experiment.

Not having been to the Cobalt, I suspect there’s a wide range of styles among the bands playing at Fake Jazz.  Probably no two nights are the same, and the fact that most of the music at this Friday event didn’t greatly interest me as a listener doesn’t necessarily mean that I wouldn’t find other parts of the scene more compelling – if I sought them out.

Attending did raise some interesting questions for me, however. Such as: what are my expectations of a concert?  I went to WF not expecting tonality, but I did expect more rhythmic and textural complexity than I found.  When those elements were missing, the experience became one of music as a physical sensation (because of the sound level) instead of an aesthetic experience. But the sound level didn’t make up for the lack of other complexity for me.

I also realized that I go to a concert expecting to hear people who are able to play their instruments better than I could.  Instead, I got the impression that technical skill is not a requirement of this experimental music scene. There were some exceptions. The saxophonist (does anyone know his name?) with Dr. Ultra and Thee Holle See is probably quite skilled. Many of the others either didn’t use their instruments (when they were playing instruments) in the way for which they were designed, or else used an extremely limited range of the instrument’s capability.  So I wondered about the implied hierarchy of concertizing: some of us are perfomers and others are listeners, and the power balance of the concert implies that the performers have something to communicate or to give to the listeners. I personally don’t know what to do with music that doesn’t create much separation between them and me. Apparently I was comfortable with hierarchy. 

 

i/i, Von Bingen, and Dr. Ultra and Thee Holle See performed at Fake Jazz Friday, Western Front, 26 September, 2008. Curated by Jeremy Van Wyck and Bill Batt.