In the December 2011 issue of The New York City Jazz Record:

There was much to digest while watching Darcy James Argue’s Secret Society perform “Brooklyn Babylon,” an hourlong work programmed by BAM’s Next Wave Festival (Nov. 10). Danijel Zezelj, standing on a catwalk, painted haunting images in black and red, using a small roller on a wide and narrow canvas as Argue’s music roared. When Zezelj wasn’t visible, his bleak-as-hell urban animation sequences were projected on a large screen. In time a fictional storyline emerged: immigrant Lev Bezdomni is contracted to build a carousel on top of the 3,000-foot-plus Tower of Brooklyn. Apart from some too-obvious symbolism at the end, the political message was present without being overbearing. Argue brought out some of his most compelling music to date, with a palette both more subtle and expansive than that of his acclaimed debut Infernal Machines. Passages of great delicacy — piano-clarinet duets, flute chorales, unaccompanied nylon-string guitar — alternated with moments of slashing fury and awesome full-ensemble precision. The staging, too, was beautiful, a counterpoint to Zezelj’s aesthetic of the grim. Musicians entered from various places, cued by a low-brass quartet down on the floor. The band wore dull overalls and caps for an early 20th-century working-class effect, and stood arrayed in a circle with the rhythm section at the center. Somehow by disassembling the conventional big band in this way, Argue brought it more together than ever. (David R. Adler)

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What a feat: combining four motley instruments, without drums, and honing a sound so endlessly and precisely rhythmic. Ten years as a working band will do that. The Four Bags returned to Barbès (Nov. 6), where they made 2006’s Live at Barbès, and focused on material from their new recording Forth. Clarinetist Michael McGinnis emceed the two sets, offering up song titles and witticisms. But musically, the spotlight was on everyone: Brian Drye on trombone, Sean Moran on electric guitar and Jacob Garchik (widely known as a trombonist) on accordion. Garchik’s opener, “Wayne Shorter’s Tune With All Different Notes,” put funky rhythmic cohesion atop the agenda. But the repertoire spanned genres and cultures, from Brazil (“Gírias do Norte”) to Iran (“The Burning”), from electronic pop (“Run,” by Air) to French musette (“La Valse des As”) to upbeat gospel (“G is for Geezus”) to metal (“Pope Joy,” featuring Moran’s baritone guitar). Two McGinnis originals were especially strong: the folky “Sweet Home California” relied on Moran’s impeccable 9/8 strumming, while “Comfort Toon” evoked a bittersweet midtempo jazz mood. Moran’s “Tip Top” and “Terpsichore,” as well as Drye’s “Imaginary Soda,” lent an air of staccato agitation to the night. A playful spirit reigned, but the Four Bags never devolve into slapstick for its own sake. They’ve put in work on their intricate parts, clean endings and alert communication, bringing disparate influences into natural harmony. (DA)

2 Comments

  1. December 3, 2011 at 7:06 pm

    You’re seriously soft-pedaling the visual aspect of Brooklyn Babylon. What political message? No coherent narrative emerged; what you’re describing is pulled from the playbill. The live painting amounted to nothing and was rarely even visible. The graphics were painfully dull, like watching a semi-animated storyboard; I found the band and its staging/costumes far more interesting, and I frequently couldn’t be bothered to keep my eyes on the screen in an attempt to follow the alleged narrative. In the future, if Secret Society is going to do something as elaborate as this BAM Harvey project, it would be advisable to actually provide a visually compelling backdrop to the music.

  2. December 3, 2011 at 8:16 pm

    I appreciate you weighing in here, but I disagree that I’m soft-pedaling anything – I’m just not agreeing with your far harsher assessment.

    The narrative was abstract but the political message was there. The “too-obvious symbolism” I’m referring to is Zezelj’s deliberate obliteration of his canvas near the end of the show. It felt pat to me, and before he actually did it, I thought to myself, “He’s not going to paint over the canvas, is he?” And then he proceeded to do so. The predictability didn’t sit well.

    Otherwise, I thought the ambition of the piece was admirable – perhaps I didn’t love the [visual] artwork itself, but that didn’t diminish the power of show for me.