March into April

Achim Kaufmann/Jeff Younger/Dylan Van Der Schyff March 31 at Merge
Pianist Achim Kaufmann came to town for two sets of stormy improv at Merge. The music roiled and boiled as the trio pushed towards the limits of what was playable on their instruments. Younger grappled with his guitar and blew into its pickups. Kaufmann scraped cups and glasses along the piano's surface and crouched down to prod at the instrument's interior. Van Der Schyff used mallets, brushes and sticks to play the kit—I mean, literally the kit—the shells, the rims, even the threads on the lug nuts. He's a master, and was often the primary shaper of each piece as it unfurled. The direction and development of the improvisations was some of the best I'd heard in this particular genre/field/scene.

The Unsupervised, April 1 at The Emerald
The Emerald, tucked away on Gore Avenue in Chinatown, is a comfortable room with a decent beer selection. The Unsupervised are an excellent band whom I hadn't seen in quite a while. They look to be ramping up activity again with new material from bandleader Jeff Younger (him again) and a new bassist, James Meger. They got right up to speed with older numbers like "Inches" and "Strands" (from Elevator) leading into the new songs that they plan to record and release in 2016. The only bummer was the volume from the punk show going on next door, which was bleeding into the Emerald. While I enjoy "TV Party" as much as the next guy, it didn't mix well with the gig I was trying to listen to.

Magma, April 2 at The Venue
Jesus wept. This little band called Magma came to town. If you didn't see the show, I can't help you much. It was a normal gig in that I experienced (a) the ritual humiliation of trying and failing to get a t-shirt and (b) buying an overpriced can of good old Pilsner. Aside from all that, it was more like going to church than a rock show: a new kind of church where solemn, centuries-old European liturgical tradition crosses streams with the funkiest, most-inbred, taking-up-serpents, maniacal Christ-as-conjurer Deep-South God botherers. And then aliens arrive and tractor-beam the whole works into the mothership for some mind-melding and deep probing. It was kind of like that, but way better. It was rhythm, madness, skill, confusion, awe, joy, and just...holy shit.

The Unsupervised—Elevator

I’ve seen The Unsupervised more than any other band over the last few years. It’s always a treat heading downtown on a Saturday night, dodging all the wannabe Snookis and quasi-Situations on Granville Street, and ducking down an alleyway to find a quiet room in which to see The Unsupervised rip it up in the company of five or six other fans.

Of all Jeff Younger’s projects—I’ve reviewed The Nudger and Devil Loops here—he’s been pushing The Unsupervised the hardest of late. As well he should; they’re a pretty complete package—an irreverent jazz band that can get funky and complex/proggy. Their approach reminds me of Led Bib, albeit a little more polite; Canadian, if you will. This recording, made to accompany their summer tour, collects their prime material. Although you really need to see The Unsupervised live, Elevator is a nice souvenir, with six action-packed pieces that stand up effortlessly away from the stage.

Although he’s The Unsupervised’s composer/supervisor, guitarist Younger hangs back for the most part, letting the rhythm section (Ben Brown, drums; Russell Sholberg, bass) and horns (Kristian Naso, trumpet; Colin Maskell, sax) duke it out.
He does turn it up on “Sandalfoot,” a funky tune with some heavy (for jazz) powerchord breakdowns and riffs avec distortion. Overall, the songs swing between freewheeling sections and composed, disciplined passages. There are enough tight, syncopated unison parts to keep any math rocker on his/her toes. How the band keeps on top of it all I’ll never know, but then again I’m not as musically edumacated as them.

Each track highlights a different strength or aspect of The Unsupervised’s approach. “Inches” is a stellar showcase for drummer Ben Brown, giving him lots of space to flit around as the rest of the band provides commentary in the form of unison stabs and swells overtop. “Kornatta Glanke,” the longest track, opens abstractly with the rhythm section scrabbling around the attic before being displaced by whimpering horns, then Younger takes a solo turn, gradually leading the band into the main theme five minutes into the 10-minute piece. There’s a staccato ensemble section, a lengthy sax solo over churning 5/4 chords before it all comes home with a staccato reprise. It sums up everything The Unsupervised are about—a jazzy cornucopia of heady goodness.