I caught Spring Heel Jack in Exeter (UK) on Friday night. For those who don't know the music SHJ were a drum 'n bass duo who have widened their horizons and moved into much more dangerous territory. Included is the review of the London gig in the UK Guardian. It says it much better than me but this was a superb gig. One final point. I have missed a large chunk of the list recently. Has mention ever been made of Evan Parker's absolutely astonishing album "Lines Burnt In Light"? These three pieces for solo soprano saxophone, using circular breathing and the natural resonance of the church where it was recorded live to create towering minimalist mantras with no electronic effects, has to have been one of the albums of 2002. ______________________________________ Spring Heel Jack Queen Elizabeth Hall, London Pascal Wyse Saturday January 25, 2003 The Guardian "Free jazz" is a marketing nightmare. To the unconvinced, it is the sound of a pet shop burning down - a sonic bickering between musicians who can't be arsed to prepare anything. Spring Heel Jack (John Coxon and Ashley Wales) have roots in drum'n'bass. They may not seem the most likely ambassadors for jazz's messy side - until you look at their record collections (more Anthony Braxton than Blue Note) and the formidable group of free players they have gathered for this tour. Everybody should, before they die, see Han Bennink. This is a man who goes for a run and plays the drums at the same time. Five minutes into the gig, his feet were up on the kit, filling in beats his hands were too busy to deal with. Later he played his kit with a chair leg (still attached to the chair). All this theatre would be empty without his sound, which combines twitching chaos with a cool swing. Starting with a bleak, bluesy electric guitar line from Coxon, the first waves of music quickly became furious. Everyone had their way of making themselves heard in this storm: Matthew Shipp (Fender Rhodes) banged his point home off-beat, changing it a little each time; William Parker (bass) played a patient game, knowing he would eventually be let through with simple grooves; Evan Parker (saxes) soared busily over the top, circular-breathing to keep him in the air; Coxon throttled his guitar on his lap until it shot out bullets of sound. Here, Wales's electronics and Spiritualized frontman J Spaceman (guitar) fell through. Wales looked like he was tidying his desk; Spaceman kept his back to the crowd. Those looking for the jazz to be cut with live electronics and sampled beats were disappointed. But they got to hear one of the hardest forms of jazz done well: frantic communication at once clear and baffling. Later, Wales started to sample the band live, and mixed in cracking plastic sounds and heavy drones, while Spaceman joined Parker up in the clouds for a memorable duet. What worked best was a face-off between the certain and the uncertain. The final number (most of the second half) was a monumental descent - a relentless church-bell riff from Shipp with a rich electronic drone. Each player struggled to escape its gravity, getting free for fleeting solos. This wasn't like free jazz, or Spring Heel Jack. But it was an amazing, heart-breaking sound.