I was leafing through some old Facelifts last week and came across something I’d written in 1991 about my travels around the UK seeing various gigs – totting them up it would appear that I saw a dozen concerts that year, all enabled by the excitement of a pretty vibrant resurgence in music round then, as well as access for the first time in my life to my own transport.
33 years on and I seem to be having something of a musical second adolescence both in terms of music available to see, and a new-found energy to facilitate witnessing it: Soft Machine in Manchester last Monday, London this weekend, and the forthcoming Phil Miller Guitar Prize this in Birmingham. The London occasion was a much awaited gig by Abstract Concrete, the culmination of a 3 day residency by Charles Hayward at Café Oto. This feels especially resonant at the moment: Charles spoke to me in 2022 for the Hugh Hopper biography; I’m helping proof read the forthcoming autobiography of his erstwhile Quiet Sun bandmate Bill MacCormick, and the Abstract Concrete debut album, in November last year, was probably my musical highlight of 2023.
It was also a chance for a first visit to Café Oto, a venue a couple of miles away from where I was staying in North London, and host to an always interesting array of experimental and jazz artists. Ticket prices are cheap, there’s a community feel to the entire place which extends to rows of bookshelves and record racks, with seating laid out crescent-shaped in front of the performers, a grand piano stage left, good beer and a decent capacity which seemed just about at its limits for the Saturday performance (Friday’s event, which also included performers such as Evan Parker and Pat Thomas had sold out).
Even with all seats taken, and plenty of others milling around in front of the bar on arrival, the first person we saw on arrival was … Charles Hayward. He cut a dapper, trim figure, and even whilst keeping a close eye on events unfolding he seemed relaxed and happy to engage – he talked about the success of the recent European tour (10 dates in 11 days, all seemingly sold out) and his contentment with the project as well as the Oto residency.
First up, after a short welcome, was Charles’ own performance on vocals and piano. I’d resisted the temptation to ask him whether or not he was going to play ‘Wrongrong’, the seminal Quiet Sun piece which Bill MacCormick regards as the band’s crowning glory – what we got instead was half a dozen or so intense ‘songs’. It’s perhaps a lazy way of saying that both are nothing like I have heard elsewhere, but a comparison might be Peter Hammill – neither are virtuosos on piano, and neither has a conventional voice, but both envelop you in their own off-kilter delivery and intensity – pieces take unexpected directions and after the opening piece I was quickly transfixed. I’m determined to check out the album, which I believe is this one here: https://godunknownrecords.bandcamp.com/album/begin-anywhere
Benjamin Duvall was next up. I’d spotted his bright green trombone laid out on stage whilst talking with Charles, and he’d confirmed that it belonged to the second performer, without elaborating. Duvall’s performance was extraordinary – what started and ended as a poem of sorts, narrating a walk around parts Merseyside, his story talked of assembling props of discarded cans, bottles and more on metal fences and other post-industrial architecture, positioned to catch the wind and produce sounds, with Duvall aping both the physical placement of those objects on stage, and triggering the associated samples on computer and the occasional trombone sound. It built up an extraordinarily beautiful library of sounds – as I was stood back somewhere near the bar and still completely mesmerized, I can only imagine its impact on those seated front of stage.
The main event was Abstract Concrete. Charles talked with enthusiasm about the project in his interview – which was matched by my own and others’ reception to the band – it is a hugely appealing sound which just has the capacity to grab you and implant various irreconcilable earworms.
His band are a mishmash of organic and manufactured sounds (haunting viola, cheesy keyboards, bouncing bass, abrasive guitar) from a multinational collection of very fine musicians ranging in age from its septugenerian leader right down to a rather callow looking bass player and yet purvey an ultra-tight, joyful barrage of deceptive simplicity, all driven by Hayward’s vocals and utterly compelling drumming delivery.
The band performed their album faithfully, in its entirety and in album order, only deviating to stretch out gloriously beyond the normal conclusion of ‘Sad Bogbrush’, and, I suspect going a little off piste during ‘The Day The Earth Stood Still’, where Hayward’s stop-start marshalling of his troops was arresting. There were two new tunes too, which Charles was excited to share – following that same tight blend of accessible melody and dissonance. He was asked at the gig what influenced him, and rather than revert to the fascinating story he told me about his father’s jazz influences in our interview, he made much of taking ideas at present from what is around him, even down to everyday relationships and occurrences. I think he was also trying to tell me earlier on that these two tracks might be the genesis of a new album – fingers crossed this is the case….
The Canterbury scene(zine) continued.... 