Perhaps the most exclusive slot of the festival thus far, it was only with some effort that even the illustrious press were able to make their way into American drummer Mark Guiliana's Wednesday night set at the National Arts Centre's Fourth Stage (the "most sold out" show of the festival so far, according to one gracious volunteer). One was left feeling guilty that less-credentialed but more jazz-loving individuals might remain stranded in line — duty calls however, and the sweetest jazz is a rare fruit destined not for the mouths of just any latecomer; such is life.
The mystique of the jazz drummer is not without its cultural texts (Whiplash, probably most famously in recent memory), but it's arguably still rare to see a drummer as a group's leader — Ottawa had obviously heard of Guiliana before though, judging by the turnout and enthusiasm. He certainly didn't disappoint, surely widening the eyes of even the most jaded jazz-heads among us.
Crisp, technical, but also pretty wild sometimes (leaving upright bass player Chris Morrissey to valiantly keep the groove), it was a real tour de force, both of rhythm and texture. Obviously there was the usual high-energy stuff (unexpected crashes and rolls; strong, agile and loose), and lots of stiff-sticked mathematical mid-tempo stuff too, but perhaps what really set the night apart was the group's exploration of the quieter, more delicate end of the spectrum. Guiliana played with his bare hands a couple times for instance (soft presses with the meat of the hand), which in the intimate venue worked really well — and after a while you figured out that the plinking, harpsichord-like tones that sometimes occurred were coming from pianist Jason Lindner actually reaching into the piano to pluck the strings inside.
It was these more delicate moments that seemed to wow the crowd most, with Lindner demonstrating an almost supernaturally soft touch on the keys at one point (a bleepy pattering that elicited audible sighs), and Guiliana could be seen huddling behind the kit during one extended atmospheric interlude toward the end, rustling around with various shakers and rattles like some kind of percussion mad scientist.
More angular and American-sounding than stage mates Léon Phal (bright and buttery as a croissant in the earlier 6:30 slot), the band lurched more than swung during their more energetic compositions, giving their push and pull an epic, almost battle-like quality (Jason Rigby on tenor sax contributed to these mightily as well, with many an extended, skronky lead). The group wisely closed the night with a couple of these crashing numbers, with Guiliana even slickly checking his watch mid-flail during the set's final moments so as not to run over — time is just raw rhythm, and at that level, you gotta be precise.
The mystique of the jazz drummer is not without its cultural texts (Whiplash, probably most famously in recent memory), but it's arguably still rare to see a drummer as a group's leader — Ottawa had obviously heard of Guiliana before though, judging by the turnout and enthusiasm. He certainly didn't disappoint, surely widening the eyes of even the most jaded jazz-heads among us.
Crisp, technical, but also pretty wild sometimes (leaving upright bass player Chris Morrissey to valiantly keep the groove), it was a real tour de force, both of rhythm and texture. Obviously there was the usual high-energy stuff (unexpected crashes and rolls; strong, agile and loose), and lots of stiff-sticked mathematical mid-tempo stuff too, but perhaps what really set the night apart was the group's exploration of the quieter, more delicate end of the spectrum. Guiliana played with his bare hands a couple times for instance (soft presses with the meat of the hand), which in the intimate venue worked really well — and after a while you figured out that the plinking, harpsichord-like tones that sometimes occurred were coming from pianist Jason Lindner actually reaching into the piano to pluck the strings inside.
It was these more delicate moments that seemed to wow the crowd most, with Lindner demonstrating an almost supernaturally soft touch on the keys at one point (a bleepy pattering that elicited audible sighs), and Guiliana could be seen huddling behind the kit during one extended atmospheric interlude toward the end, rustling around with various shakers and rattles like some kind of percussion mad scientist.
More angular and American-sounding than stage mates Léon Phal (bright and buttery as a croissant in the earlier 6:30 slot), the band lurched more than swung during their more energetic compositions, giving their push and pull an epic, almost battle-like quality (Jason Rigby on tenor sax contributed to these mightily as well, with many an extended, skronky lead). The group wisely closed the night with a couple of these crashing numbers, with Guiliana even slickly checking his watch mid-flail during the set's final moments so as not to run over — time is just raw rhythm, and at that level, you gotta be precise.
