Dual CD Review: Dewa Budjana, Surya Namaskar; Tohpati, Tribal Dance

Dewa Budjana, with Jimmy Johnson & Vinnie Colaiuta

Surya Namaskar

MoonJune Records MJRO63 (2014)

Tohpati, featuring Jimmy Haslip & Chad Wackerman

Tribal Dance

MoonJune Records MJRO64 (2014)

It sounds like an intriguing musical combination. Take an Indonesian guitarist, well-versed in Western progressive and fusion music yet not forsaking the structures and sonorities of his native land; and pair him with a rhythm section comprising a bassist who has played with Allan Holdsworth and a drummer who has played with Frank Zappa. A rare concoction, right?

Not if you are Leonardo Pavkovic, whose MoonJune label specializes in prog and jazz fusion with ethnic flavors and a flair for the unusual. In 2014, he managed to release CDs from not one but two different trios of the same ethnic and musical combination described above. That’s two extraordinarily talented Indonesian guitarists fronting incredible trios.

Surya Namaskar features guitarist Dewa Budjana, bassist Jimmy Johnson, and drummer Vinnie Colaiuta. It was recorded in Los Angeles in September 2013. Tribal Dance features Tohpati (as he’s billed) on guitar, Jimmy Haslip on bass, and Chad Wackerman on drums. It was recorded in January and October 2013. In Los Angeles (except for one track recorded in Jakarta earlier this year). For a city sitting on top of so many fault lines, it was very risky having both these dynamic trios recording in L.A. in the same year.

According to Pavkovic, “Tohpati has a very big profile in Indonesia, mostly in the pop world as a top session player, composer, and arranger for many pop stars. But Dewa Budjana is huge in Indonesia, his band, called GIGI, is one of the most famous in the country. What I am able to capture of them on MoonJune is maybe 0.5% of what they do in their careers.”

Of the two CDs, Surya Namaskar is the more progressive-sounding, very muscular and daring with the unexpected twists and turns one expects from a prog recording. Fully instrumental (except for a vocal on the largely improvised “Kalingga,” which also features Sundanese violin and harp), the album’s sound is fleshed out with important contributions from such notable musicians as Gary Husband (synthesizer on the King Crimson-esque opener, “Fifty”) and Michael Landau (guitar solos on “Campuhan Hill,” which Dewa composed after his first meeting with Holdsworth). The music is impressive and relentlessly energetic. In spite of their power and ability, Johnson and Colaiuta show great restraint; each is fully capable of taking over a tune or a session with their virtuosity (which nevertheless is on display throughout, especially for Colaiuta on “Lamboya” where he becomes a cyclone under Dewa’s restatement of the theme), but the spotlight is firmly on Dewa throughout the CD and he shines.

Tribal Dance, in contrast, is more of an East-meets-West affair, largely in the realm of jazz fusion with ethnic influences. This trio is a bit more democratic, with Haslip and Wackerman getting a few spotlights of their own; in particular, Haslip takes a nice solo on “Run” and Wackerman turns up the heat at the end of the title track, the middle of the following tune, “Red Mask,” and “Supernatural.” Several of the songs open with exotic chants or percussion before leading into the composition proper, as if Indonesia was setting the table for the American musical feast to follow. The one exception is the closer, “Midnight Rain,” which stays largely in the East (in fact, it is the only track recorded in Indonesia). Tohpati is a very fluid and nimble player who uses effects sparingly but effectively. One can detect traces of Di Meola and Scofield in his playing, but he is very much his own artist.

If these CDs are any indication of the talent that exists in Indonesia (the fourth most populous country in the world), more Western musicians and labels should be heading out that way to mine the apparently very rich veins of musical ability to be found. If they do go there, they will find that Pavkovic has had a head start.

“There is great talent in Indonesia,” he says, “but also great diversity. For example, Tohpati is ethnic Javanese, from Java, so he has certain influences, both genetic and musical, that might be different from Dewa, who is ethnic Balinese, which is a minority in Indonesia. I am also working with Dwiki Dharmawan, a well-known pianist and keyboardist; guitarist Reza Ryan from I Know You Well Miss Clara, who has more European influences, such as Terje Rypdal, Jan Akkerman, and Phil Manzanera; and two other guitarists, Agam Hamzah and Tesla Manaf Effendi. They are all very different from each other.”

As for these two recordings, it is always nice to see the trio format utilized; it is, in my opinion, the structure that requires the most awareness, instinct, and communication among the musicians. In the jazz world, some of the greatest recordings of all time have been made by trios, and these two releases add considerable luster to the form. Both guitarists are well worth watching out for.

After 40 Years, King Crimson's Larks' Tongues in Aspic Is Still a Delicacy

One of my favorite albums of all time is one that I bought in error. One summer, I had served an apprenticeship of sorts. It was 1978, I was 15 years old, and I was working at a summer camp where I became friends with a guy named David Kaplan. He was a few years older than me and a very good guitarist, shy but also very funny. And he had exceptional taste in music: jazz, fusion, progressive rock. I expressed interest and he was happy to school me. It is thanks to him that I am a fanatic about Gentle Giant. It was through him that I first heard the music of Chick Corea. And it was because of him that I became introduced to King Crimson.

If memory serves, he only had one King Crimson album, but it was one that I liked very much. The album was called Starless and Bible Black and it had been released in 1974, back when I was listening to the Monkees, the Osmond Brothers, and the Jackson Five. What struck me most was the first song, a barnstormer called “The Great Deceiver,” which began with the startling couplet, “Health food faggot with a bartered bride/Likes to comb his hair with a dipper ride.” I found it funny but the music itself was relentlessly exciting, aggressive, and surprising. I didn’t know it at the time, but much of it was improvised and recorded live in concert, though the applause had been edited out so it appeared to be a studio-recorded album.

The musicians were Robert Fripp on guitar, John Wetton on bass and vocals, David Cross on violin, and Bill Bruford on drums. David told me that if I liked this album, then I might like the debut album by a new group called U.K., which featured both Wetton and Bruford. This would prove a pattern for me. As I became more sophisticated about music, I would be drawn to bands already defunct or decaying and ignore the music scene that existed around me currently. In 1978, I was ignorant of the emerging New Wave, except for local heroes The Cars. But I couldn’t be bothered because I had nearly a decade of prog history to catch up on.

When camp was over, I went on a shopping spree. I bought Gentle Giant’s Free Hand and U.K.’s eponymous album. Next, I went searching for the King Crimson album with the funny lyric and ferocious music. Trouble was, I couldn’t remember the name of the album or even the cover image. I could, however, for whatever reason, recall the typography (it would be a full decade before I found myself actually working for a digital font company). In one store’s rack, I scoured the King Crimson section and found what I thought was what I was looking for. I bought it, took it home, unsealed it, and put it on my turntable.

Immediately, I knew I had purchased the wrong album. Where Starless and Bible Black had opened with a bang, this one opened with a kalimba, an African thumb piano. Soft percussion builds over the first minute until a violin enters and then fades, reappearing at the three-minute mark, where soon it is joined by Fripp’s guitar. Violin dominates until about 4:30, when all hell breaks loose, and for the first time I am assured that even if I had the album wrong, at least I got the group right.

The album I purchased was Larks’ Tongues in Aspic, released 40 years ago today, on March 23, 1973. It was the first edition of the group to feature the lineup I detailed earlier, and in fact included an additional musician, percussionist Jamie Muir, who left shortly after the album was recorded to join a monastery. The lineup was responsible for the two albums already mentioned, as well as 1974’s Red (the follow-up studio release to Starless and Bible Black, which featured the much-reduced presence of violinist Cross), and a live album, USA, released in 1975 but recorded prior to Red.

For the next 46-and-a-half minutes, Larks’ Tongues in Aspic beat me into submission. It was an overwhelming experience. It began, I suppose, with the cover, a striking sun/moon image that had no words on it at all. The 13:36 opener, “Larks’ Tongues in Aspic, Part 1,” went through various sections, alternately fast and slow, incorporating at one point dialogue from a television drama. In later years, when I first heard Arvo Pärt’s “Miserere,” I likened it to this track as it repeatedly goes from hushed tones to full-throttle chaos in an instant.

The opening track is followed by a short but lovely ballad. “Book of Saturday” clocks in at just under three minutes and features guitar, bass, and violin, along with a nice vocal. It is as calming as the previous track was unnerving. Side 1 ends with “Exiles,” another vocal number; that and the three songs on Side 2 all range between just over seven and just under eight minutes long. “Exiles” is a mostly gentle song featuring the full band, a minor mellow epic that seems to suggest that the opening track was an aberration; that the tunes, short or long, are ambitious but soothing. The opening to Side 2 quickly dispels this notion.

“Easy Money,” the Side 2 opener, brings back the dark dissonance in another multi-part piece that has no trouble balancing a near-a capella opening verse with full-band, full-throttle musical mania. Bruford is a master at repelling any attempt on the listener’s part to tap their foot along with the beat. Just when it seems you have it, it changes and as much as it may initially seem that he’s hitting his snare at random intervals, you realize there’s a logic to it and that he’s in complete control at all times, sometimes making his statement with a crack of the snare and sometimes making it with utter silence. The song ends with the rather frightening sound of a laugh box.

This is followed by a mesmerizing instrumental called “The Talking Drum,” which very slowly and gradually builds from a barely audible groove to a revving turbo charge of energy that must soon be ready to release – yet it doesn’t. It stops on a dime with the metallic opening riff of the album’s closer, “Larks’ Tongues in Aspic, Part 2.” Very unlike “Part 1,” this one is a straight hard blast of immense electric power, a roiling instrumental that takes no prisoners and shows no mercy.

Thus it was that I ended up instantly loving this album that I bought in error, which only served to propel me back to a different store to find Starless and Bible Black and explore the King Crimson catalogue thoroughly, just as I began to do with the prog and fusion artists mentioned earlier and others that I and my friends were yet to discover. Forty years after Larks’ Tongues in Aspic was released, 35 after I first heard it, it remains a remarkable work that is always in power rotation on my home stereo.

Knowing when to clap

This past weekend, I went to a jazz concert featuring a large ensemble playing the music of John Coltrane, and a chamber music concert of works by 19th and 20th century composers. A couple of months ago, I went to see a ukulele trio at a folk club and with some luck I might soon be able to see The Who during its 54th farewell tour. I like having “big ears” and enjoy the fact that many different kinds of music move me. Like many people, I believe seeing music performed live is the ultimate experience – if only ticket prices were lower or my salary higher, I would see live music every week.

Seeing jazz and classical music in the same weekend was aurally very exciting but I had to remain mindful of a key distinction between the two genres: when to clap. At jazz concerts, every soloist gets applause at the conclusion of their solo and a single tune could have five or more solos. In classical music, even when a piece has three or four parts or movements, applause must be held until the very end. I find that frustrating, since within a given movement, there are many times when a musician will play some very difficult and thrilling passages and I feel compelled to show my respect and appreciation. But out of decorum, I remain silent.

The hardest thing is at the end of a movement. The silence is more deafening, it’s downright uncomfortable. The only sounds one hears are the musicians adjusting their music or doing minor maintenance to their instruments (in the case of a French horn player I saw today, that included turning it over so his spit could drain out). It’s critically important to keep track of the movements so you know which is the final one. Of the three pieces I heard today, the first and third had three movements and the second had four. I have to admit I got confused and almost clapped at the of the second piece’s third movement.

The other important thing to remember about clapping at a classical concert is that at the conclusion of a piece, and at the end of the concert proper, the players will bow once or twice, then leave the stage. You must, however, keep clapping because they will return to acknowledge all the applause the audience has been struggling to contain throughout the performance. Then they go off stage again. If the performance was particularly bravura-riffic, like at the end of an opera, they may do this several times. Regardless of how many times they are brought back, however, they will not do an encore. They just want the applause.

It can be challenging at a jazz concert, too, because the culture of clapping at every solo can sometimes be a little much. After all, not every solo is stellar and deserving of special applause. Also, sometimes one player’s solo leads directly to another player’s solo and applause for the first player will make it difficult to hear the start of the second player’s solo. Do you disrespect the first player in order to show respect to the second player, or respect the first player at the expense of the second player’s chance to shine?

In between numbers, there isn’t much noise. The musicians don’t talk much and the audience quietly awaits the next tune. This is very different from a rock concert, where the artists are yelling at the audience, egging them on, and the audience responds with constant shouts and screams, and hoots and hollers. Particularly well-lubricated yahoos yell during quiet moments, and steadfastly clap in 4/4 even when the band is playing in 6/8. At the end of a rock performance, the audience, hungry for an encore – often simply to delay the inevitable crush trying to get out of the venue – may be left clapping for as much as 10 minutes until the band, redrugged and refreshed, comes out for a hit song or two that they deliberately omitted from the set list to ensure they would get an encore. Then they leave the stage again and the audience will hope that their clapping inspires the houselights to remain off. If so, the band has earned a legitimate encore.

Folk audiences are probably the most patient of all, because every folk song has some kind of story behind it that the folk singer feels compelled to explain. So they listen quietly and attentively to the story of the song, then to the song itself. Then they clap and wait for the next story, and the next song. Folk audiences are small so they tend to clap all the more loudly to make up for their paltry numbers.

Sometimes, an appreciative artist will applaud the audience. I’ve always wondered why. I suppose it’s because we clapped at the right times. Still, I’ve never earned an encore so I guess there’s room for improvement.