The Electro-Acoustic Realm

Papers and random assignments are starting to pile up left and right around here, with an archives finding aid description due Saturday and a wider government documents scavenger hunt (not as fun as it sounds, believe me) following close on its heels. Still, I have managed to escape the house a few times this week, and this past Sunday found me slipping inside the dark confines of the groovy Kava Lounge, once the original home for legendary San Diego indie concert hall The Casbah. The vibe is a little mellower now, with plenty of couches, sake-based mixed drinks and fine local craft beer. As for tunes, we were there to check out a musical meet-up between saxophonist Byard Lancaster and local musician Brian Ellis and his proggy contingency, which included David Hurley's percussion ensemble and other local musicians such as Preston Swirnoff (Habitat Sound System), Zach Hogan (PEA) and Rasaan Davis.

The above-listed ensemble have a cd coming out this year on jazz label Porter Records, and if the results are going to be anything like the concert we witnessed (for free, I might add, if you don't count what we paid for beverages), it will be a memorable and churning slab of noise-improv-funk. Byard Lancaster is best known for his
alto saxophone work with artists like Sunny Murray (heard on the awesome and recently re-released 1966 ESP label Sunny Murray LP), Sonny Sharrock and Sun Ra's Arkestra. He's also maintained a steady interest in funk and electronic music, and his pairing with Brian Ellis, David Hurley and others reflected this interest. This was open-ended electronic improvisation with a dedication to rhythm and pulse, one that found inspiration in both Miles Davis' late-60's fusion innovations and the sprawling space rock of 70s artists like Ash Ra Tempel and latter-day followers Acid Mothers Temple (the similarity in names is no coincidence).

There's still plenty of discoveries to be mined in this realm of electro-acoustic improv. Fusion's bad reputation stems largely from the disastrous approach taken by many jazz artists as the 70s progressed, with the order of the day soon becoming flute-driven melodies bouncing atop Fender Rhodes tweedle. The dark, swirling, lengthy non-compositions of Bitches Brew turned into the abbreviated and gadget-obsessed jazz-lite that dominated the decade. Sunday's concert had plenty of groove but little concessions in the way of stated melody or theme, and that's the way I like it. At times, Lancaster's role seemed diminished by the activity of the band surrounding him (he spent much of the second set sitting in a chair, with head down, listening), but overall, the project seemed to be a successful attempt at merging jazz improvisation with experimental rock. It had a good beat - you could dance to it. Several hipsters even did.