Fred Anderson - Timeless (DVD)

Delmark DVD 1568

What makes a church? Is it the ornate masonry, stained glass and woodwork of the structure? Or is it the clergy and congregation that fill the chancel and pews? My opinion sides with the primacy of the latter, but there is something to be said for the power and grandeur of a sacred edifice itself. Fred Anderson’s Velvet Lounge is a case in point. By outward appearances to the average passerby, it’s a grungy South Side Chicago dive. The interior isn’t much to look at with its long, bottle-festooned bar and garish floral meets geometric print wallpaper. Faux velvet paintings of Miles Davis and a nude Nubian princess adorn the walls, looking like prizes won at a midway carnival. A small ply board stage, a cramped assemblage of metal chairs and tables, and a wobbly wagon-wheel chandelier further give off the appearance of thrift shop decor. Nevertheless, to the seasoned free jazz fan the joint carries a religious significance on par with other legendary venues like the Vanguard and the Five Spot.

Thanks to the myopia of city planning and development, the seemingly sacrosanct space came under the pall of the wrecking ball this past year. A new home several blocks adjacent is in the final stages of construction, but the original space bolted its doors for good on April 2nd. Fortunately, for those who never made the pilgrimage as well those who have, Delmark has released Timeless a visual and aural document that preserves portions from two of Fred’s typically engaging gigs with two particularly attuned cohorts in tow, bassist Harrison Bankhead and drummer Hamid Drake. Screening the concert film brought back a cascade of memories of my own dozen or so visits to the club. Lit by stage side halogens, the performance space still looks small, but it’s larger than I remember with an extra row of booths lining the back wall. The unforgettable wallpaper, reflecting weathering by some additional water damage, is just as I recall and there are even a few familiar faces in the audience.

From the opening tracking shot, which takes the viewer past some conversing patrons through the club’s front door, the footage exhibits verité viscerality. Several handheld and mounted cameras provide a multiplicity of angles on the stage and audience. The camera operators are also fairly adept at staying out of each other’s line of sight, a feat that lends even more credence to the overall “being there” feel. Adroit editing joins the footage and soundtrack almost seamlessly. The cameras zoom regularly within inches of each player, revealing the beads of sweat on Drake’s brow and Fred’s furrowed features as he leans into a particularly prolix stream of whorled cerulean phrases. Close-ups of Bankhead’s fingers during his solo on “Ode to Tip” give reams of visual insight into his talents at constructing rhythm-laced, melody-rich runs. With the degree of alacrity and dexterity on display, it’s almost as if he’s playing a bass guitar, expanding a grooving ostinato into an extended spontaneous composition that could easily stand on its own. Even the amplification that sheathes his strings can’t detract from the incisiveness the improvisations sculpted by tautly tugging digits. The music itself receives a boost through remastered sound, the instruments cleanly separated in a manner that was probably not as pristinely parceled in-person.

I could go on about the music, but in the interest of keeping this piece to a reasonable length, I’m going to reserve the rest of that commentary for a review of the compact disc version of the concert. Suffice it to say that Fred is in fine form, as are his friends. “Flashback” falters a bit through several false endings, but the remaining three pieces hit near bulls-eyes. Bankhead’s presence pushes the performance up a notch in the creativity department, his fit with Fred sitting on par with the saxophonist’s familiar and long-standing partnership with Drake. It’s rare that the visuals of a free jazz concert are available for perusal right alongside the sounds. I can’t think of a better band off the top of my head with which to enjoy the tandem of technologies. And as substantial added value, the program also includes an interview with Fred recorded at the club. He speaks freely about his past and the impending prospect of preaching from a new pulpit and sums up the segment with the profound assertion: “We gonna keep this music going, you know, I’ll keep it going until I go out.”

~ Derek Taylor