Author : Jos Hermans
Every year in late summer, former coal mines, coking plants, terrils and steel mills in the Ruhr region are transformed into stages for music, art, theater and dance for the six-week Ruhrtriennale. One of the most attractive aspects of the Ruhrtriennale is the removal of pigeonholing, the bringing together of various art disciplines, the creation of interdisciplinary art experiences. How the hideous industrial buildings, built in red brick, manage to transform themselves into temples of art is one of those secrets that makes the reconversion of industrial sites such a success. Gerard Mortier, the first curator of the triennale, called them "cathedrals of industrial culture." Every concert at the Ruhrtriennale is therefore engaged in an exciting dialogue with the past. All performances draw their power from this contrast with the industrial heritage. Against the backdrop of Siemens' rusting turbines, avant-garde takes on a very special luster. The Ruhrtriennale switches its curator every three years. For the next three years, the arts festival will be shaped by the artistic vision of another prominent Fleming. I am eagerly anticipating what space Ivo van Hove will devote to musical theater, in addition to the promised annual ITA premiere. West Side Story in the Jahrhunderthalle perhaps ?
For free jazz, the Maschinenhaus in Essen is a perfect venue. Piano, baritone saxophone and double bass are already gleaming in the crimson spotlights before the start, ready to be battered in the hands of three, boundary-seeking improvisation talents. In free improvisation, the key words are : "risk" and "communication." When all tonal and harmonic conventions are abandoned in the service of the inspiration of the moment, purity of sound emerges. But it always remains a dance on a volcano. There is always a bottomless abyss : that of the possibility of getting bogged down in banality, that of the Babelonic confusion of tongues. The curse of postmodern dilettantism is never far away. But when experienced improvisers like Mats Gustafsson, Barry Guy, Jordina Millà take the trusty instrument in their hands, it is quickly exorcised. Then daredevil antics transform into enduring, boundary-exploring compositions. The neo-modernism of free jazz is timeless. Free jazz with African-American roots and European-style free improvised music blend so seamlessly that I constantly use the two terms interchangeably, as if they were synonyms. Rather, it is a universal continuum in which both continents provide for distinct accents.
Jordina Millà, Mats Gustafsson and Barry Guy, three of the most prominent figures in free jazz, were on stage together for the first time. I had expected the concert to consist of solos, duets and a closing trio but the concert started right off as a trio, and for two sets.
Jordina Millà was allowed to kick off with a plunge into her idiosyncratic sound universe on a prepared Steinway: glissandi on the strings, chords like sandpaper, beautiful tremoli on the bass strings, subtle and feminine all at times, slightly incantatory with a sense of ritual. If her role is rather serving, it is the gentlemen who provide excitement. Very subtle are the arrangements by which each musician lets the other break into his own ego trip.
Mats Gustafsson explores all possibilities on the flute. On his main instrument, the baritone sax, a rhythmic play emerges with the blowing of the mouthpiece. Often he sounds like a pneumatic jackhammer. Exciting are the volcanic eruptions that always carry something of Munch's cry.
Bassist Barry Guy is from 1947. He threw himself with the vigor and open-mindedness of a youngster. Call it aging with dignity if you will. Mostly he concentrated on exploring the resonance of the instrument. Often the plucked intervals he performs with breakneck speed have the appearance of intense violence. But when he takes his playing back to barely audible, gossamer arc strokes, spun like silver threads in an intense dialogue with Millà, there is almost an impetus for a melody and the hall becomes quiet as a mouse. It is intense listening to each other what these musicians do. This is the only way it works and never will this "stream of consciousness" release its grip on the audience present. It was a fantastic trip!
Meanwhile, outside it had become a full moon. Its spiritual significance was not lost on anyone during this evening of heightened emotions and potent creativity : free jazz lives !
The DVD makes a powerful impression, and considering the size of the stage area, 220 feet long in NYC, the singing and acting is astonishing. The NYC venue, The Park Avenue Armory, where the wealthiest soldiers of the U.S. Civil War trained, was a perfect place to stage 'Die Soldaten'. A creepy reflection of the content of the opera.
The Ruhrtriennale production of Zimmermann's 'Die Soldaten' which was brought to New York for the Lincoln Center Festival some years back, was probably the single most exciting operatic staging that I have seen in some sixty-five years of opera going.