Chick Corea and John McLaughlin in Hongkong: Light feathers and birds of fire
The ending is a great place to begin.
I have just come from the Hong Kong Cultural Center after watching a mind-blowing concert by the Five Peace Band led by protean jazz musicians Chick Corea and John McLaughlin. Walking back to my hotel on Salisbury Road, I chance upon The Dawn guitarist Francis Reyes and his girlfriend Niña Sandejas (who also watched the gig, also there was Penguin owner Butch Aldana and friends). They excitedly point out to me a guy with a ponytail (a short curly one) who is starting to attract onlookers and hangers-on in this chilly Kowloon night. Man, it’s Chick. If it hadn’t been for Francis and Niña, I would’ve just walked off and headed for a 7-Eleven or something.
“Did you say ‘My Spanish Eyes’?” Chick tells a tongue-tripping fan with a chuckle while signing an autograph, presumably on the CD cover of his “My Spanish Heart,” that excellent Verve album where the artist explored flamenco culture and flirted with the Andalusian tone. He wears a matador suit on the cover.
Francis asks Chick if he could have his picture taken with the legendary pianist, keyboardist, and bandleader (and Scientologist as well). The man readily obliges. Then I muster enough courage to ask him as well.
“Nice to meet you. How are you, man?” Chick asks warmly while shaking my hand.
No words climbed from my throat. I’m a man without a mouth. A man 500 miles high. Dead from the nose down. I am star-struck for the first time in my life. I have met a lot of musicians when I was still writing seriously about music (a doomed enterprise I found out in recent years; that cliché about music writing being similar to dancing to architecture has a ring of truth in it). Well, there was Thom Yorke at the lobby of a Tokyo hotel. Norah Jones in a small office in a Hong Kong. Chris Martin in an elevator in Bangkok. The guys and girl of Evanescence at the entrance of a hotel in Cape Town. I’ve posed questions to Jane’s Addiction guitarist Dave Navarro, Marilyn Manson, the Gallagher brothers, and Suede’s Brett Anderson in press conferences. I saw Christina Aguilera’s butt and got on a small plane with Pink (the aircraft roughly the same size as Aguilera’s posterior). But this is Chick.
Corea is slated to play two nights with fellow jazz legend John McLaughlin (with bassist Christian McBride, drummer Brian Blade, and saxophonist Kenny Garret completing the excellent quintet) at the HK Cultural Center concert hall as part of the 2009 Hong Kong Arts Festival (more about the festival itself in a future article). It has been 40 long years since the two first worked together on Miles Davis’ seminal “In a Silent Way” record in 1969, an eternity to envelop-pushing, groundbreaking, and pedal-stomping jazz experimentalists.
“Complacency is an indulgence we can’t afford,” said McLaughlin in a Guitar Player interview. True enough, both McLaughlin and Corea have never shown a hint of being complacent in their respective careers.
Since his ’66 solo debut “Tones for Joan’s Bones” and followed by the classic recording “Now He Sings Now He Sobs” (recorded with bassist Miroslav Vitous and drummer Roy Haynes in ’68), Chick has followed a path of ceaseless resistance. There was of course the stint with Miles that would alter the very definition of jazz forever, with the pianist creating indelible lines with the Fender Rhodes. (Although the belief that bands such as Corea’s Return to Forever, Joe Zawinul’s Weather Report, John McLaughlin’s Mahavishnu Orchestra, and Herbie Hancock’s Headhunters, among others, were the spawn of “Bitches Brew” was dismissed by Corea himself as “Disneyland,” probably attributing it to the temper of the times and not solely to the genius of Davis.)
When Chick left Miles at the end of a European tour in September 1970, he would go on to form several (four?) incarnations of Return to Forever. There was the Brazilian-inflected one with Corea, bassist Stanley Clarke, saxophonist Joe Farrel, percussionist Airto Moreira and vocalist Flora Purim. There was the shorter-lived one composed of Corea, Clarke, guitarist Bill Connors, percussionist Mingo Lewis, and drummer Steve Gadd. There was another one with singer Gayle Moran onboard. Then there was the rockier, raunchier one with Corea, Clarke, guitarist Al DiMeola, and drummer Lenny White. That RTF lineup (which reunited last year) gave ’70s prog-rockers such as Yes and King Crimson a run for their money with albums such as “Hymn of the Seventh Galaxy,” “Where Have I Known You Before,” “No Mystery” and 1976’s “Romantic Warrior.” Loud guitar riffs, bass madly plucked and bowed, science-fiction keyboards — RTF had it all.
But Corea concurrently explored other territories as well. He also formed an avant-garde free-jazz band called Circle with Anthony Braxton, bassist Dave Holland (a fellow Miles alumnus), and Barry Altschul. Chick Corea and vibraphonist Gary Burton cut a poignant ECM record titled “Crystal Silence” in ’73. In the mid- to late-’70s, he crafted his mind-altering trilogy composed of “The Mad Hatter” (inspired by Alice in Wonderland, featuring Gayle, Gadd and bassist Eddie Gomez), “The Leprechaun,” and the aforementioned “My Spanish Heart.” In the ’80s and ’90s, Chick had his Elektrik and Akoustic bands (featuring virtuosos John Patitucci on bass and Dave Weckl on drums), as well as the “Time Warp” quartet. There are also the collaborations with Herbie Hancock, Bobby McFerrin, Béla Fleck, and — would you believe — the Foo Fighters at the Grammys five years ago (although it would’ve made more sense if he jammed on a piano-driven song with Coldplay instead, which also performed that night).
Same with Chick, the gospel according to John is reinvention. Corea talked about the impact of John McLaughlin and the Mahavishnu Orchestra in a Down Beat interview: “What John did with the electric guitar set the world on its ear. No one ever heard an electric guitar played like that; it certainly inspired me. I wanted to express that emotion. John’s band led me to turn the volume up and write music that was more dramatic and made your hair move.”
McLaughlin has done so from the get-go. His albums with Mahavishnu, “The Inner Mounting Flame” in ’71 and “Birds of Fire” in ’72, are jazz fusion landmarks. So is his work with Tony Williams’ Lifetime, Shakti, Santana, Trilok Gurtu, Elvin Jones (for a John Coltrane tribute), and fellow guitar legends Al DiMeola and Paco de Lucia — each musical approach different from the next. And McLaughlin displayed that exploratory spirit not just from project to project but in single albums altogether. His “Electric Guitarist” in ’78 and “The Promise” in ’95 see the guitar player doing collaborations and exploring varying aural territories. The latter with the likes of Jeff Beck, Sting, Nishat Khan, saxophonists Michael Brecker and David Sanborn; the former with the likes of Cream bassist Jack Bruce, Billy Cobham, Jack DeJohnette, and even Corea. And then there’s the Trio of Doom composed of McLaughlin, Jaco Pastorius and Tony Williams, which played an infamous set at the Karl Marx Theater in Havana on March 3, 1979 — the “Bay of Gigs” as John would later call it. A Trio of Doom album was released in 2007, which is essential listening. The exploration is not over for John, as attested by “Industrial Zen” in 2006 and “Floating Point,” his most recent one.
Now, Chick and John have crossed paths with the Five Peace Band, and their fans in Hong Kong know it will not be an easy peace — musically, that is — for these ever-restless jazz legends.
Five Peace In Our Time
Chick, John and the rest of the Five Peace Band started with a reading of Raju, and the place erupted in silence.
Yes, you read it right: an explosion of muteness. Well, we have an idea of how concertgoers in Hong Kong conduct themselves — most especially in a high-art venue such as Hong Kong Cultural Center. Very refined. Polite clapping at the end of every solo. If the concert were held in Manila, it would have been a happy ruckus. When John Scofield and Joe Lovano played in our city, it was like a rock concert. Around three-fourths of the concertgoers were musicians (and three-fourths of those were guitarists) hanging on to every lick, riff and trill played by Scofield, since we are very rarely visited by jazz titans such as him.
(Sadly: Chick and John were supposed to play in Manila on Feb. 13, but the organizers couldn’t raise enough support to push through with the gig. Imagine, faded pop stars like Petula Clark and American Idol runners-up like — well, they are legion — could stage successful concerts in Manila, while pioneering musicians still creating uncompromising music couldn’t even generate enough interest in our videoke nation. We are so doomed from all those pop singers still stranded in the ’60s. And Rex Smith.)
When John took his solo for Raju the beat slowed down, as if the guitarist needed to ruminate over the rhythm first before jumping wildly into lightning-quick riffs. No longer the bird of fire of yore, John is more like a wise old eagle now with his silver mane, creased face and black Godin. But the improvisation is as stellar as ever.
“We all have been in Hong Kong at some point in our lives,” said John after the first song. “It’s a pleasure to be back.”
Chick Corea’s The Disguise features stirring unison-playing between John and saxophonist Kenny Garret, who has not only played with Miles until his death in ’91, he has also performed with Sting, Peter Gabriel and Bruce Springsteen.
Obviously, the gig was not just a walk down the gilded lanes of jazz fusion. We were not in the presence of an infernal nostalgia machine, and we were not in Hotel California. The musicians were still trying to come up with something new and fresh to the ears. That’s always been the goal, reiterates Corea in interviews.
What followed was a McLaughlin composition from “Industrial Zen” titled New Blues, Old Bruise. You could hear the rhythm-and-blues groove slithering from time to time, although deconstructed by syncopation and angular guitar lines (McLaughlin’s specialty). Brian Blade, who has played with legends such as Bob Dylan and Joni Mitchell, backed John up with some funky playing. (Vinnie Colaiuta played drums on the European leg of the tour before joining Jeff Beck for a series of gigs.)
For the second half of the program, Chick launched into a long florid solo. Throughout the set Corea alternated between a Yamaha grand piano and two stacked Yamaha Motif keyboards connected to foot pedals (might be whammy, might be wah). Reminded me of how he used a wah-wah pedal for his parts in Light as a Feather and Vulcan Worlds. (Chick is one pianist that could enthrall both fans of Bill Evans and fans of King Crimson.) The call and response among Chick, John, Christian and Kenny was a joy to the ears.
After the tune, John announced that the Five Peace Band has just released a CD. “Don’t ask me where to find it. You can hear it for free on the Internet, but you won’t be able to hear it like this,” said the guitarist with a chuckle.
For a track titled Hymn to Andromeda, Chick dusted off his chops honed after last year’s Return to Forever reunion. The tune is as challenging as any of the landmark RTF pieces in the ’70s. Beyond the seven galaxies. Like a song to pharaoh kings. Starting with some sci-fi effects on his electronic instrument (his fingers manipulating the pitch-bender now and then), Chick moved to the grand piano for some startling runs across the keys. Then Christian McBride, after wowing the crowd with impeccable plucking, whipped out a bow for his upright bass. I thought Stanley Clark was in the house.
“Christian McBride,” says Chick in his “Rendezvous in New York” liner notes, “strikes everyone as a reincarnation of every great bassist who ever lived in jazz.”
After around 10 minutes into the piece (it felt like a relaxing eternity), the band sped up the tune, got funkier and louder. I mean the guys were playing a truly demanding piece (with odd time signatures, unison-playing, abrupt breaks, counterpoints and all) and yet they would break into a smile now and then, always showing admiration for each other’s playing. They were in the middle of a musical maelstrom and yet they made everything look as easy as playing Wooly Bully. Most of the time, after a number, John or Chick would introduce each member of the band as if underscoring what a privilege it is to be playing with musicians of that caliber. Jazz can be fun.
“To change the mood a little, we will be playing a Jackie McLean tune from Miles Davis’ ‘Milestones’ called Doctor Jackle — not Dr. Jeckle and Mr. Hyde,” said John, laughing with the rest of the band.
After Dr. Jackle, that was it. Stellar improvisation and interstellar interplaying throughout; everything bordering on telepathy or — as my seatmate quipped — “Jedi mind tricks.” My only caveat is they didn’t play Miles Davis’ In a Silent Way/It’s About That Time as a way of things coming full circle. (Herbie Hancock sat in with the band when they played in Belgium, reuniting the three pivotal musicians who were present at the recording.)
Maybe In a Silent Way was supposed to be the encore, although not too many people lingered and clamored for another number. Maybe it was because before Dr. Jackle had even ended, some people already looked antsy in their seats, and as John, Chick, Kenny, Christian and Brian were being given a standing ovation, some audience members were already walking up the aisle, hurrying to the exits, disappearing into the dark.
Or maybe, just maybe, they had an appointment with Chick Corea on the corner of a chilly Kowloon night.
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Special thanks to the Hong Kong Tourism Board.
