Sam Leak Trio

Upstairs at Dempsey’s, Cardiff

9.11.16

Pianist Sam Leak brought his current group to Dempsey’s in a week when I caught The Bad Plus in Bristol and which ends with Phronesis playing at Chapter in Cardiff; making his the second of my week’s trio of piano trios.

The other two groups – like Swiss trio Vein, heard here in September – are not piano-led trios: within them, the keyboard has, at best, an equal share of roles and responsibilities and prominence; indeed, there were periods in the relatively lengthy working-life-spans of both bands when pianists Ethan Iversen and Ivo Neame appeared to be the junior partners to powerhouse rhythm sections.

Sam Leak and his youthful-looking partners trod more conventional paths on Wednesday night, but drummer Will Glaser is one to watch and, as well as some seldom-heard 1960s jazz tunes and contemporary pieces by the leader’s peers, there were a handful of interesting originals from Leak which hinted intriguingly at future prospects for this trio.

With an audience of about twenty present, the night’s music started at a tremendous lick; the pianist tearing up Chick Corea’s “Now He Sings, Now He Sobs”, propelled crisply by bassist Simon Read and a rattling Glaser, who gave early warning of the energy and the textural range he brings to this music.  One could argue on grounds of thematic continuity for following Corea’s lively tune – “pre-Scientology, I think”, opines the pianist – with a ballad from the same era by Keith Jarrett – pre-haircut, I think, and still sporting his Afro - but although “Love No.1” gave Read a first opportunity to exercise his Charlie Haden bone, I thought its languid air was too much, too soon, dissipating the atmosphere established by the opener.

Things perked up again immediately.  Beginning with a Paul Bley-like flurry on the keyboard, Leak lead the trio into some of the structurally less conventional areas of 1960s jazz, with Glaser exploring the shells of his drums and Read moving the music around slowly with more of his deep Haden-like tones.  I was surprised to discover that this was the first of the pianist’s originals, “Scribbles and Scores”, after thinking I had recognised the melody and deciding that it belonged to the repertoire of the free-jazz version of the Jimmy Guiffre 3.

It was followed by an exploration of Phronesis’ long and compelling “Eight Hours” and here, as elsewhere, the leader soloed largely with his right hand, his left providing sparse chordal accompaniment. 

The group concluded this forty-minute opening set with a medley of two more original compositions by Leak, the short reflective “February”, followed by the vampy “Daybreak”, which proved to be equally short, ending abruptly with a pithy statement from the drummer.  It isn’t a conventional ending, and it’s the pianist who breaks a pregnant silence, leading off the applause and name-checking the band-members once more.

The second set was longer, lasting almost an hour.  It began with “Peel, Repeal”, written by Lee Konitz’s close associate, pianist Dan Tepfer, with whom Leak has duetted; and it continued with an arrangement of the hymn, “Dear Lord and Father of Mankind”, by one of Leak’s teachers, Gwilym Simcock.  The first encourages more rattling of his drum shells by Will Glaser; the latter has him finding new textures by reversing his wire brushes. 

An exhilarating version of Jarrett’s “Lisbon Stomp” travelled far afield: so far, perhaps, that the leader called for a “last minute set adjustment” and some delicate band interplay that brought to mind the Ahmad Jamal combos of the 1950s, with mallets rippling cymbals and the pianist hunched over the keyboard in concentration.

After another of Leak’s compositions, “Grasshopper”, this one perhaps the pick of a very fine handful, the set concluded with Charlie Parker’s “Scrapple From The Apple” bouncing from the drummer’s brushes, and Simon Read’s final statement was nearly lost amongst the enthusiastic support offered by his bandmates’ anticipation of the exuberant finale of the piece.

The absence of Brenda, one of Jazz at Dempsey’s two organisers, was sorely felt.  Her band introductions are highly regarded in Cardiff jazzlore, chiefly for a concision which loads their wit and élan almost entirely into expression and tonal delivery.  But they serve a formal purpose too, announcing the start of the set.  (Frank Zappa would call them the - metaphorical - frame around the art).  When Sam Leak chose to say something (about Dan Tepfer) before the start of the second set’s music, one tableful who I imagine hadn’t noticed ‘we were starting’ had to be brusquely hushed by the rest of the small crowd.  That never happens after Brenda introduces a band.  Here’s hoping she’s well again soon and back next week.

Sean Wilkie

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