Bremen to Bridgwater

Funky Boots March

Combining the rhythms of African music with those of American big-band jazz and the free playing of British improv, The Brotherhood of Breath produced “one of the most vital and life-affirming big-band jazz ever played by anyone, anywhere.” (BBCi). The Brotherhood released only a handful of recordings in its lifetime, and the band was rather forgotten until Cuneiform released Travelling Somewhere in 2001, which gained rave reviews. Bremen to Bridgewater contains two CDs of previously unreleased live recordings made in Germany and England during two very different periods of the band’s career. The German radio recordings were made on June 20th, 1971 at Lila Uele, a well known jazz club in Bremen. The English recordings were made at the Bridgewater Arts Center, during two tours that the band made with different lineups in February and November of 1975, and feature some of the very last recordings of trumpeter Mongezi Feza, who died in December of that year. The band’s lineups on these recordings are a veritable who's who of British free jazz, and include Harry Beckett, Marc Charig, Elton Dean, Nick Evans, Harry Miller, Chris McGregor, Louis Moholo, Mike Osborne, Evan Parker, Dudu Pukwana, Alan Skidmore, Gary Windo and others. In addition to the music, this CD features an 12 page booklet with rare photos and liner notes by Francesco Martinelli.

One Final Note Review: Fans of Chris McGregor's Brotherhood of Breath and British jazz in general can only be delighted by this latest archival release of Radio Bremen recordings and private tapes from Cuneiform Records. First thing: there's a ton of music here—three separate concerts spread across two packed CDs. Then there's the typically excellent Cuneiform presentation: great photos, thorough liner notes, nice design. Most importantly, the music is divine and exactly what you'd hope from the Brotherhood: a freewheeling polyrhythmic parade; hypnotic, fiery, euphoric. Redemption through big band riffing.

The majority of the first disc is taken from a 1971 Bremen appearance by an early incarnation of the Brotherhood. The front line is nine horns strong, and includes (as do all the concerts here) core members Dudu Pukwana (alto) and Mongezi Feza (trumpet), abetted by regulars Harry Beckett and Marc Charig (trumpets), Nick Evans (trombone), with Alan Skidmore and Gary Windo (tenors). The band is in particularly nimble shape—and a bit rough around the edges—throughout the fifty-minute performance. All the sonic hallmarks are present: there's the sweet Ellingtonian sophistication, Monk and 52nd Street, the joyous brassiness and unpredictability (that always reminds me of the Art Ensemble of Chicago), the wayward solo jaunts, and the layer upon layer of deep riff and rhythm. The highlight of the concert is Mongezi Feza's wildly scrawled and wonderfully close-mic'd statement at the beginning of Dudu Pukwana's "The Bride". Like Miles could, Feza shines a rich spotlight on the bandstand with his solo, one which flatters the whole band.

Filling out the first disc are two pieces—nearly thirty minutes of music—from a Bridgwater, England concert on February 26, 1975. The recording is a bit murky and bass-heavy—pleasantly so, if you like audience-quality tapes. It's certainly not a bad thing when Harry Miller is handling the low frequencies; he's got a great tone, beat, and an inventive line. On this date, he's complimented by Keith Bailey on drums—it's the only known recording of him with the group. He sounds fantastic; something like Roy Haynes with more push than float. The second of the two pieces, an untitled original by altoist Mike Osbourne, is reminiscent of Coltrane's treatment of "Song of the Underground Railroad" on Africa Brass. Osbourne takes a fine solo, flurrying along like Eric Dolphy, but with an element of Coltrane-like fervor; he cuts amazing quicksilver loop-de-loops in midair.

Disc two captures nearly eighty minutes of music from another Bridgwater appearance nine months later. The bass is back down to normal human levels, making some room for the leader's piano, which was all but entirely obscured on the second concert. The group is particularly jubilant here. If the 1971 concert showed them to be rough around the edges, on this one they make a game of eradicating them entirely, then building them back up again. The warmth and good feeling in the sound is palpable, particularly in the concert-opening "Sonia", which features a glorious descending riff like a great bird swooping down from terrible heights. The riff builds, breaks and folds over itself repeatedly like a stormy shore. What else do you want from your music?