mastery of styles, incorporating blues, flamenco
and classical into a melange of jazzy riffs and
sliding blues that perfectly play off Brandon’s
elegant and ethereal sax explorations, the pair
anchored by Michael Metcalfe’s delicate drum
patterns. At times Metcalfe pulls up anchor and
the whole sound floats free, all three musicians
exploring the currents, before being pulled back
into climactic whirlpools or serene mill ponds.
Brandon steps back on occasion, watching
Ballantyne and Metcalfe soloing, a smile on his
face, and that musical appreciation, that joy of
collaboration, shines through and throws a light
on Polar Bear’s own modus operandi.
But before Polar Bear take to the stage, there
is a solo slot by their keyboard/electronics player,
LEAFCUTTER JOHN. His disarming, amusing chat
has the crowd on board as he begins to play a
light-sensitive pad with two bicycle lights, one
in each hand, jabbing rhythmically, sweeping
and soaring in a ballet which sees him attempt
a premature demolition of the Kaz as a photosonic bass rumble shakes the building to its
core. He looks up at the audience and laughs
as though even he didn’t expect it to be quite
that powerful. His second piece begins like
the Clangers on acid before sweeping through
an Apollo-era Eno-like soundscape towards a
huge orchestral finale. The crowd is up for the
challenge and applauds accordingly. Wonderful.
The club is, surprisingly, little more than half full
when Polar Bear walk onstage, but, as is so often
the case, this proves to be the absentees’ loss.
The initial light, airy sax playing of Pete
Wareham and Mark Lockheart hints at the
interplay and musicianship to come and is
grounded by Tom Herbert’s big, juicy bass notes
and Seb Rochford’s earthy drum sound, his floor
tom adding a tribal, ceremonial feel. The band
swing together into a funky dance groove before
standing meditatively as John’s electro rainstorm
takes us from crescendo to calm. Don’t Let The
Feeling Go, from their latest album, contains
the only vocal of the night, the Sun-Ra-esque
titular refrain chanted over a funky drum pattern,
the saxes alternately duelling, rapier sharp, or
nestling together like two cooing, billing doves.
You can feel the energy in the room rising, as the
crowd, dancing or transfixed, begin to drift onto
a blissful plane.
Unrelenting Unconditional takes them several
steps further on that journey, as an extended,
sinuous, dream-like sax duet weaves over a
pattering Middle Eastern rhythm and gently
prodding electronic pulse, building to a fiery
tenor blow-out before fading gently, percussively
away (Polar Bear for Psych Fest anyone...?). u
Chotpot (‘scatterbrain’ in Bengali) lives up to
its name, transporting us further East, with
delightfully choppy percussion and dervish-like
sax which sees the audience gyrating ecstatically.
Polar Bear at the Kaz: a marriage made in heaven,
consummated in Nirvana. Transcendent and
beautiful.
Glyn Akroyd
FLOATING POINTS
Max Graef
Abandon Silence @ The Kazimier
Abandon Silence nights at The Kazimier are
always atmospheric, but tonight the place drips
with a confusing mix of nostalgia and euphoria;
it’s both one of their final shows at The Kazimier
and their 5th birthday party. Tonight, after five
years of spreading the good word, the place
is easily sold out for the unbeatable combo
of MAX GRAEF and FLOATING POINTS, the sort
of sophisticated and hugely respected record
selectors who may well not have frequented
Liverpool in a pre-Abandon Silence world.
After appetites and barnets are whetted
and wetted by a sometimes drizzly but always
danceable day party in Rat Alley, Max Graef
makes the transition from day to night by
spinning a woozy, jazz-steeped