COMMUNITY IN BELGIUM
WORDS AND PICTURES
BY WILLY GUY
Venues: 1Opm,
Friday 24th Oct 1980, 2pm, Saturday 25th Oct 1980 : Palais des Beaux
Arts, Bruxelles / Palaes voor Schone Kunsten, Brussel
9pm, Saturday 25th Oct 1980 : Stedelijk Concertgebouw,
Brugge/Bruges
Personnel:
Will Menter - soprano, piccolo
Aaron Standon - soprano, alto
Mark Langford - bass clarinet, electric piano
John Eaves - flutes, soprano
Paul Jolly - reeds, flute
Ian Menter - alto sax, trombone
William Embling - trumpet, sousaphone
Martin Mayes - French horn
Alan
Tomlinson - trombones
Colin Wood - cello
Peter Evans - violin
Tim Powell - double bass, trumpet
Piers Mostyn - double bass, melodica
Peter Cusack - guitar
Bob Helson - percussion
John Fairbrother - percussion
Barry Leigh - glass disc, cronian bagpipe
The hired mini-bus and Bob's van hammered through the early morning
drizzle but none of us had the least desire to wipe the windows clear
of condensation and peer out at the grey-green Flemish plane. The elation
of the previous evening's journey had vanished as we tried to catch
up on a night of broken sleep, propped uncomfortably against the shaking
sides of a vehicle or a neighbour's bony shoulder.
Arrival in Brussels was no better. Uncertain of our route,
we tried to negotiate rush hour streams of angry cars, but then the
bulk of the Palais des Beaux Arts loomed up and we were there. Half
an hour and a cup of good Belgian coffee later even the murderous schedule
of three concerts in two days - sandwiched by two night ferry crossings
- seemed possible again. It had even stopped raining.
The two Brussels performances took place in the context
of a grandiose celebration of 150 years of Belgian nationhood of which
the artistic centrepiece was a massive exhibition of Breugel paintings
and drawings - assembled from all over the world. The relevance of concerts
by Bristol and London-based improvisers seemed remote - unless they
were intended by the promoter, Godfried-Willem Raes, as counter events.
Yet on reflection, even the main poster for the celebration was a mordant
comment on Belgium as a political entity. It was Breugel's 'Tower of
Babel', but instead of the whole picture being shown, the two halves
of the tower were depicted on similar, complementary posters - one of
which was printed in Flemish, the other in French. To obtain the complete
image both posters had to be placed side by side.
Waiting for the first ever performance of Community later
that evening I could see the musicians holding their final briefing
and was reminded of the London Jazz Composers' Orchestra workshop in
Bristol a few months before. There had been a lot of discussion at the
time as to whether improvising was really viable on a large scale because
of the complexity involved. Evan Parker's position was that all the
musicians had to be thoroughly familiar with each other's playing; failing
this, structures were useful to help the players attain the sort of
mutual understanding that could probably not be reached otherwise within
the limited time of a workshop session or concert performance.
Will Menter had no ideological objection to structuring
as such. In the small group in which he regularly works - Both Hands
Free - individual members had originally used loosely arranged material
to underpin group improvisation, and four years previously Will composed
'Wind and Fingers' for a seven piece group of the same name in which
written passages and free improvisation were intertwined. Nevertheless
the scale of a group containing so many musicians presented its own
difficulties.
Will's solution to the apparent paradox of scoring for
seventeen improvisers was ingenious; he had devised a piece which was
basically a 'collage' of short themes, each written for only a few instruments.
These did not tie the players as in straight music for they were suggested
guidelines rather than commands and not only did individual musicians
have the choice whether and when to select themes but they were free
to develop them as the small group dynamic seemed to require, and also
as they felt appropriate to the broader orchestral context at any particular
time.
Building in such flexibility had its risks though, for
- as with most small group improvisation - the overall development of
the piece was not charted in advance and depended on the perceptiveness
of the participating musicians and on their willingness to respond to
each other's playing.
By ten o'clock a good size audience had gathered, spread
over irregular, ascending tiers of blocks on one side of the performance
area. Facing them on similar tiers were strewn the musicians instruments
and between these two slopes a clear gangway led from the entrance hail
at one end to a series of broad rising stairs which formed the approach
to the main exhibition hall. Above and around the walls ran open galleries
where a few late visitors wandered past rows of prints, occasionally
pausing to glance curiously over the balustrade at the assembly below.
The whole effect was to suggest an informal, rectangular-shaped amphitheatre
rather than the conventional concert hall.
The musicians took their places and began - tentatively
at first then increasing in volume, exploring how their instruments
sounded in this new setting. The initial hesitating also suggested anticipation,
as if everyone was waiting for the first definitive theme to emerge.
It came from the strings - a quiet but strongly rhythmically accented
figure which gathered force as a saxophone joined
It would be possible to continue describing the scored
passages but this would be at the expense of other equally important
elements of the performance. In particular such a way of writing tends
to overemphasise the significance of the sequence of themes as discrete
units. But rather than simply following each other most themes overlapped,
emerging gradually from the preceding music. Frequently several motifs
could be heard at the same time. Meanwhile other instruments were adding
their contribution which could not be identified with any specific theme.
The multi-centred nature of the music was paralleled
visually as instrumentalists moved around with their music stands to
regroup for new themes. As the piece developed this movement on the
musicians' side of the performance area spread out to take in the whole
hall as small groups of players detached themselves to stand on the
end staircase or progress along the upper galleries. Call and response
elements were especially effective as refrains were passed to and fro
between galleries and the main body of the hall. At one point a theme
rather like pealing bells could be heard very faintly at first, then
more audibly as a brass contingent approached from the far end of the
entrance hall and swept into the main body of the hall.
The earlier part of the performance tended to be relatively
energetic and the audience responded actively - swaying with the more
rhythmic passages and obviously excited by the movement of the musicians
opposite and later around them. As the music drew to a close it was
harder to discern distinct themes or even whether the music was based
on scored passages. A much gentler even melancholy atmosphere was established
as long drawn-out notes and minor intervals were complemented by muffled
gong notes and plaintive seagull-like cries. During this final period
the listeners sat very quietly, couples drawing closer to each other.
The feeling was very unusual for improvised music. It had something
of the intimate ambiance of a Frank Sinatra late night cabaret session
except that instead of fragmenting the audience into separate couples
- each sitting at their own table lit by its individual lamp or candle
- the music of Community spoke of shared feelings and experience. When
the players finally stopped the applause was warm but it was as if a
spell had been broken.
In the pub late that night the mood was euphoric. The
time for anxiety was past, for Will's bold concept had been vindicated
- Community worked. There had been three rehearsals previously in England
but not everybody had been able to make them and in any case time was
needed to adjust to the practice of playing in constantly changing small
groups as part of a continuous larger ensemble. After that first success
the next performance would probably have been an anti-climax in any
case but no-one was prepared for the incongruity of the following afternoon.
Early in the morning two of us had tried to beat the
crowds and slip into the Breugel exhibition at the opening hour - but
no such luck, for large conducted parties were ushered past us as we
waited. By the time we were allowed in the only way to see any pictures
was to watch for a changeover of groups and dart into the intervening
gap - ignoring the scowls of the incoming party. The accompanying guides
spent most of their energies in trying to shout down the commentaries
of guides of nearby groups - often in a different language. Again the
Tower of Babel poster was singularly appropriate.
That was first thing in the morning but by the time Community
were due to play in the afternoon the Breugel queue was five abreast
and stretched down the staircase, right through the middle of the performance
area - separating musicians and audience - and on out into the entrance
hall. There was an abundance of well-cut suits and dresses and the glint
of gold from wrist or neck and the occasional whiff of expensive perfume.
These visitors had the air of attending a highly exclusive social function
rather than waiting to view the peasant paintings of Breugel; certainly
they did not look anything like a potential audience for improvised
music.
As the musicians took their places there was no acknowledgement
by those in the queue that they might be invading a concert hall; instead
they saw themselves as a theatre queue to be amused by capering street
performers. The promoter, Godfried, tried to demarcate the two separate
worlds with strands of barbed wire but the players responded more positively
to the situation. Rather than attempt the hopeless task of performing
the piece in such conditions they decided to improvise - a sort of big-hand
busking - and drew very mixed reactions. Some people were simply affronted,
like the young woman who immediately screwed up her eyes and clamped
her hands firmly over her ears, but others responded with peals of surprise
and delighted laughter. One portly businessman stared with undisguised
amazement at Barry Leigh scraping his glass disc with a polystyrene
block. From his horrified expression you would have thought that at
the very least Barry was sawing off his own leg. School parties were
especially responsive - at first imitating the cries of the instruments,
later trying their hand at playing them - and so the session ended as
a good-humoured workshop.
There was another concert a few hours later in Brugge and listening
to it on tape in retrospect it sounds fine if very different from the
first performance. But my main memories of that evening are of logistics
rather than of music:
- packing up two van loads of instruments - driving to
Brugge - making our erratic way to the hall through the picturesque,
maze-like streets of the old town - humping the instruments once more
to the performance area on the top floor of an Arts Centre - then humping
them in the reverse direction (with the performance sandwiched in between)
- and finally a snatched beer before the dash for the midnight ferry
which we just made.
In the bar on board we relived the excitement of the
past two days and ambitious plans were made for yet another gig on the
trip - an impromptu marching band to take part in the national CND demonstration
in London ten hours later. But after the boost of alcohol had faded
exhaustion took over and as we gazed blearily at our watery breakfast
coffee in the motorway services outside Dover, it was hard to imagine
how we could have thought it possible to play again that afternoon.
Acknowledgement: Our Travel Correspondent would like
to thank the British Council, the Arts Council of Great Britain, Community,
Townsend Thorenson Ferries and Tripp-Robins van hire for their generous
help in making his journey possible.
First published 1981 by Bristol Musicians' Co-operative in the collection
"Bristolscream". Copyright Will Guy
writing about will
