The Analects Of Confucius

Wolfgang Gratzer - Jazz Podium

Musik, aus allen rhythmischen Verankerungen gehoben, dabei nicht ohne Swing: Im Oktober 2000 trafen zwei Veteranen der Free Music auf der japanischen Hauptinsel Honshū aufeinander. Die gemeinsamen ästhetischen Vorlieben von Misha Mengel- berg (1935–2017) und Sabu Toyozumi (*1943) ließen es von Anfang an gelegen sein, jazztouristisch beliebte Haupt- straßen zu meiden, dafür quer-feldein abzubiegen und in un- wegsamem Gelände Fahrt aufzunehmen. Auf vier unter- schiedlich langen Etappen bah- nen sich Pianist Mengelberg und sein Drummer-Kollege Toyozumi Wege vorwärts durch teils dichtes Gestrüpp. Über Stock und Stein unterwegs, zeigt das Duo anarchistische Entschlossenheit und dadaisti- sches Lustempfinden. Beson- ders die Zugabe hat es in sich, taucht dort doch, bravourös ge- spielt, Monks »Off Minor« am Horizont auf. Man höre Monks 1964er-Einspielung und staune, wie lebendig das vertrackte Thema über Jahrzehnte geblie- ben ist.

Kevin Whitehead - Point Of Departure

As many duo LPs, subscription flexidiscs, and CDs Misha Mengelberg and Han Bennink made between 1971 and 1998, the pianist’s posthumous Analects of Confucius recorded in concert in Shizuoka City in 2000 may be Mengelberg’s only documented duo with another drummer (where Bennink squared off with umpteen pianists). Misha had long since worked out strategies for dealing with headstrong Han who’d play louder and faster than he himself could or cared to. One reliable tack: lay out early on and let Han wear himself down. Then when energy levels are more equitable, play whatever you want to, as if ignoring him, and see if you can’t draw him in, with or without his noticing. Mengelberg treats Toyozumi much the same way – the impulsive Japanese drummer born a year after Bennink who (the liner note tells us) draws particular inspiration from the contrary Dutch pianist. So on their 40-minute opening set (dubbed “my guru MM”) Mengelberg plays on little cat feet for two minutes, then falls silent for 14-and-a-half, returning when Sabu settles down. Letting your partners hang out there on their own for so long is one way to get them to exhaust their pet materials. Toyozumi can ramble as he rumbles, and his big-beat syncopated patterns lack subtlety sometimes, but mostly he keeps moving. His brushwork, rolls, hi-hat technique, tom-tom tunings, and drive are notably looser than Bennink’s, and his cymbals sound darker, giving this combination its own character. He leaves more space. Misha’s belated return at 16:30 is a new beginning, spackled keys and brush rustle: real dialogue. Then he keeps paring back, to see how spare they can make it: very. Isolated piano notes; cymbal rattle. The pianist gets louder, softer, denser, leaner, leading the drummer along, at least till Toyozumi gets preoccupied with his own log-rolling. Where drums gets clomp-footed, piano may go the other way. Such hide-and-seek evasions are part of the game. Roller coaster momentum comes and goes during the crafty last 15 minutes, Misha cooling things down with a procession of chords for the finish.

Mengelberg plays a stately (new?) solo ballad for his devoted wife, “song for AMY,” at a slow-Monk gait; here he is sometimes his own ornery accompanist. Monk’s “Off Minor” is the encore. And there’s another (20-minute) duo jam, where Misha alternates among his discursive single-finger melodizing, pointedly unparsable scribble-scrambles, and a couple of readymades: the iterative “Koekoek” as heard on 1999’s Solo (on the Buzz label) and his early earworm march “Where Is the Police?” which he and Han had played on their duo debut ICP 10, to wrap things neatly up.