I love percussion. Things that go bang in the night. And there, surely, can be no greater exponents of the art than Speak, from Melbourne, and Synergy, from Sydney. And ain’t it great to revive the old rivalry, in such a healthily competitive way?
City Jungle, as the name implies, focusses in on D ‘n’ B (I think it’s earned capitalisation, as a genre, at this stage), or UK breakbeats. OK, so the form mightn’t be homegrown, but this exposition of it certainly is and both groups take it to a whole new plane. At its worst, d ‘n’ b (see, the capitalisation of the new has already yielded to complacent, lower-case colloquialism) can be aggravatingly repetitive, which might be OK if you’ve consumed xtc, but pretty tedious otherwise. But at best practice, which is evident here, it’s a thrilling basis for improvisation and experiment, easily and unselfconsciously crossing the boundaries of jazz, rock and avant garde.
The leaders of the groups, Eugene Ughetti (Speak) and Tim Constable made a short intro, telling of their mutual, discovered admiration for drum ‘n’ bass. For some time, apparently, they’ve indulged this passion, sending each other tracks, until finally, now, they’ve come together for this world premiere, at the li’l’ old Reg.
But what is this thing called d ‘n’ b, love? Well, it started out, as best I can tell, as jungle, and a bloke named Lennie De Ice. Len was tooloing around in his East London flat, when he hit upon a squarewave (for all you electronic dicks) bassline and a so-called amen break cutup (don’t ask, please), pumped out at 126bpm. The rest is musicological history. The sociological virtue of jungle was, or is, that it seems unimpeded by racial stereotypes: De Ice might’ve been the very coolest of black dudes, but his invention, or innovation, seems to have been embraced without fear or favour by ebony and ivory-skinned hipsters. And it’s remained true to its hardcore, underground roots, relatively or completely untainted by commercial exploitation.
All are welcome to join the tribe, as makers or consumers. And while there are those who might liken the scene to house or trance, the genealogy is quite different: jungle (now encompassing the likes of d ‘n’ b, breaks, 2step, dubstep, downbeat and more) finds its roots in soul and funk, rather than disco. But here’s where it gets really fascinating; in a geeky, music trivia kind of way. It’s 1968. The Winstons, funksters based in Washington, release a single, Color Him Father. But it’s the B-side, Amen Brother that, ironically, has made them immortal. Their drummer was Geoffrey C. Coleman, who’s featured solo on the track has gone on to become the most sampled 5.2 seconds in music history.
Speak spoke first, with astonishingly fine technical precision, on big brass band bass drums, small toms and snares, a struck idiophone of some description (I ought to have paid more attention), and sundry things shaken and clashed, not least among them a set of what looked to me like Indian cymbals. All this backed by the homegrown composition of Terminal Sound System, a one-man-’band’ that produces electronica. There was black-and-white video art, too, though at least some of it seemed a little uninspired and underwhelming. For anyone even vaguely inclined to music-making, as well as listening, or dancing, the finesse of Ughetti, and partner-in-crime, Matthias Schack-Arnott (I know, he sounds like an Anglo-Dutch bikkie manufacturer), is nape-of-the-neck tingle territory.
These boys know their rudiments. I doubt they ever went to the park to play catch. ‘No, I have to stay home and practice my paradiddles.’ Who would’ve thought such fine-fingered delicacy, more attuned to classical chamber music, could find a home in this mechanistic milieu? It’s hard to classify such things, but the feeling here tended towards darkcore, that recent splinter characterised by a minimalistic, instrumental nature. It came in waves, or pulses, as d ‘n’ b tends to do; by turns, pared back, or full-on and frenetic.
Synergy’s set fell more into the realm of intelligent jungle (yet another sub-genre), making for a much more accessible set, based more heavily around the outfit’s impressive cache of gizmos and toys, which included some kind of idiophonic device capable of synthesizing and impersonating a range of instruments. The adventurous, no-holds-barred jazz-rock drummer, Evan Manell, was behind a trad kit, but with electronic devices attached so as to transform it into something much more spaceage. Jared Underwood manned an electronic kit, but all rotated and took their turns; Manell even contributed a kind of spoken word fx strand, while Constable sung. The composition, by Noxious Aquatic, was easy to relate to, very listenable and virtuosic in a way quite divergent from Speak’s set. TokyoLoveIn accompanied it with a choppily-edited video of city life; exquisitely shot and colour-graded. it was entirely sympathetic and supportive of the mood and tempo of the piece.
OK. I know what you’re thinking. (My editor’s thinking it too.) This isn’t theatre. It’s a concert. But, ah, there’s the rub, as the aforementioned video art, as well as the expressive freedom of movement Constable and Ughetti allow themselves on stage, Sam Ada’s expansive sound, shadowy lighting and an overall ‘sense’ of theatre take it into an area that’s not quite one, or the other. It’s not a stadium rock show, a la The Stones, or Alice. It’s not opera. But it’s something else again. Something not only musical, not only theatrical; but a challengingly experiential, multi-dimensional 21st-century hybrid.
Whatever the hell it is, it’s satiating, in the way of the finest cultural repast. One emerges fulfilled, energised and optimistic. And throughout, you’ve been captivated.
The details: City Jungle: Syd vs Melb played The Reginald at the Seymour Centre on October 19-22.
