JANA SUMMERS Karl Denson of Tiny
Universe, plays the flute during their set at the House of Blues
Monday night.
By David Holmberg
Daily Bruin Contributor
Medeski Martin and Wood do not play jazz rock funk fusion
““ they embody it.
On Monday night at the House of Blues on Sunset Strip the trio
led a collective transcendental trip into realms of music that
words could not even begin to explain.
The surest way to tell if a band is rocking the house is if the
house is literally shaking; at the House of Blues, the vibrations
were felt from the floor boards to the inner soul as Medeski Martin
and Wood pushed the limitations of music, and jazz in particular,
to a new plane of existence.
If appearance meant everything in the music industry, these
three ordinary looking guys would be typing away at some computer
tucked away in a dismal office building. Thankfully, talent makes
up for any lack of guitar smashing or clothes tearing, and if
nothing else, these guys definitely have the gift of genius.
This is not, though, the easy to grasp genius of the Beatles or
guitar virtuoso Eric Clapton.
MMW’s genius is one that balances on that fine line
between music and meaningless noise, and while there are surely
advocates for both sides of the issue, it was clear which way the
audience was leaning. The downright devotion of those listening to
the radically experimental music was notable in and of itself
because the group’s sound is such a hard break from
mainstream music. The fact that the packed house understood the
sound originating from MMW was an impressive testament to the
band’s ability.
Perhaps, though, the point of the group’s music is not to
be understood. Jazz is an inherently difficult musical style to
grasp, primarily because the rules being followed are not readily
apparent to the audience, or they simply do not exist. MMW makes
the problem infinitely more complicated because it does not simply
play jazz; it infuses jazz with rock, rhythm and a ton of funk.
With so many styles being thrown into the pot, it seems easy to
lose sight of the overall sound. But, due to strong individual
performances by each of the trio and a collective cohesiveness, the
band kept a solid and profound feel running throughout its entire
set.
The bassist, Chris Wood, oscillated between electric and full
upright, all the while vibrating the clothes on the
audience’s back. His heavy strum was the focal point from
which the funk came grooving forth, giving an astute counterpoint
to the jazz minded group.
Picking up the percussion end was Billy Martin, who gave the toe
tapping beat needed for a solid footing in the group’s
musical trek. During lengthy solos he demonstrated the power of
beat, which tore relentlessly through the crowd. As an added bonus,
he even busted out the seldom played duck calls, with wild
results.
But the focal point, the rug that tied the room together, was
John Medeski on keyboard and various FX contraptions. His
jazz-focused keyboard ripped through riff after riff, each one
enticing the audience to ask for more.
The trio dove head first into the music, and with an energy that
could make even the state of California jealous, became an
uncontrollable source of power.
Medeski’s hands were blurred because of their speed, Wood
was breaking bass strings with his intensity, and Martin’s
frantic drum sticks beat the music into the crowd. Even the
instruments themselves were confused, as it is likely none had
experienced this sort of playing before.
While not surprising for a jazz-esque group, the lack of any
singing might have been initially difficult to accept for those
with pop oriented minds. But after half an hour or so, the music
itself was speaking, telling individual tales to anyone who cared
to listen.
Throughout its entire set the group ceased playing music only
three times.
The jams were long and expansive and MMW rightly gave each
session room to do whatever it needed to do. The music was part of
them, but it was also an entity in its own right and one which
could not be contained.
The final encore left the three men playing entirely
acoustically, with no amplification, at the front of the stage.
Although two of the instruments were unidentifiable because of
their uniqueness ““ the best descriptions would be an
“air-hose keyboard” and a “wikky-wikky
drum” ““ the crowd slipped into an awed reverence for
the accomplishments of Medeski Martin and Wood.
Unfortunately, the following act was not as praiseworthy. Karl
Denson’s Tiny Universe, while certainly an accomplished jazz
fusion band in its own right, was colorless in comparison to the
ultimate complication of MMW. Technically the band was tight, with
a well-meaning saxophone and trumpet at its core, but the group
lacked the inspirational flair that had preceded it. Admittedly,
MMW would be a tough act for anyone to follow.
With Medeski Martin and Wood lies the future of jazz and the
direction of experimental music. Perhaps in 30 years they will be
understood as completely as the Beatles or the Rolling Stones, but
for now it is enough to relish in their total unpredictability and
phenomenal musicianship.