As my guest and I entered the rapidly filling and comfortable Osmond Terrace Function Centre to see Läther perform Continuity: Läther Play The Music Of Frank Zappa live, I was excited for two reasons. The first, was that I was on my annual pilgrimage, or is that indulgence, to see one of my favourite ensembles perform impossible music live, and the second was that my companion had never seen one of my favourite ensembles perform impossible music live, and I was very keen to see her reaction to it. The band takes its unusual name from the posthumously released, sixty-fifth official album by Frank Zappa, and is the brainchild of one of Australia's most talented musicians, Tim Hogan.
Now, 65 might seem to be a very high number of album releases, and the main reason for that is that it really is a very high number of album releases, but it needs to be seen in context. 62 albums were released during Zappa's lifetime, but the total number of albums released between 1966 and 2022 is over 120. There were only 10 albums recorded in the studio, and the others were either officially released live recordings, or bootleg recordings of live events, some of which were subsequently officially approved.
Such a back catalogue gave Hogan an almost endless supply of material to work from and, since many compositions were performed differently, multiple times, and with different musicians, by Zappa, it also gave him, and his selected players, an absolutely free hand to improvise around the composer's themes and intentions. All he really had to do was to find musicians in Adelaide with a deep interest in the works, and of such an extraordinarily high skill level that they could actually pull it off.
To give the reader, particularly interested musicians, an insight into the challenges that players of this material, at this level, face, I quote from Hogan's setlist for the evening's performance. "Set 2, part 5, Dupree's Paradise - open solos, key unknown". Most musicians would read that, weep pitifully, pack their instruments away and head home to watch Netflix, and there were many such useful directions on the band's setlists. Hogan introduced this particular piece by stating, I don't know what is going to happen, and I don't think these guys know either, and I'm sure that you don't know! An atonal, arrhythmic, heavily-effected guitar played an introduction, and then a clear throw to Saunders for a saxophone solo to set the key and give the rest of the band a direction. Utterly, bewilderingly courageous, and a master class in improvisation.
Läther are: Gerry Masi on vocals and the occasional sound effect, David Goodwin on keyboards, Jez Martin on bass, Jarrad Payne on drums, Ryan Simm on vibraphone and percussion, Dave Saunders on alto sax, Gareth Davis on trombone, and Tim Hogan, arranger and conductor, on guitar. A veritable who's who of virtuosic jazz players in South Australia.
Their playing was, of course, extraordinary. Beautifully abstract solos would morph in an instant into unison playing of motifs so fast and complex that they boggled the mind, but it was the silent, on-stage communication amongst the musicians that always strikes me when watching Läther play. As a member of the ensemble launched into a wild and apparently limitless solo, other members, not supplying a foundation for their colleague, would either move to the back of the stage, or leave it completely, to allow the soloist the full focus of the audience, then, with an almost imperceptible flick of the eye, or raised eyebrow, call them all back again to join him for the next impossible bit. Except for Payne, Martin, and Goodwin, who were the very soil from which the solo would grow in nourishing, understated and egoless support.
The deep respect that these men have for each other is palpable, and the trust they place in each other's playing is borne of that respect and an intimacy that has to be experienced to be understood.
Suddenly, the solo ends and the players are once more locked together in frenzied unison lines that seem to disregard anything remotely normal in terms of time signature or key, but leap from one unlikely note to the next in an exhilarating blur of delicious precision.
Goodwin grins delightedly at Hogan at such a perfect landing, his hands moving too fast to follow, Simm's vibraphone hammers a blur above his instrument, Davis's trombone joins Hogan's guitar in lines that I thought, wrongly, were simply too fast for such an instrument, Saunders's saxophone finding harmonies to notes that last a mere millisecond, Masi's vocal lines leap effortlessly across octaves as if they were merely semitones, mirroring Hogan's guitar, as Paynes' polyrhythmic drumming points out minuscule changes in emphasis amongst the chaos, while Martin's bass gently slices the frenzy into perfect, bite-sized pieces as if calmly strolling through traffic on the Autobahn. I was exhausted just from watching and from holding my breath as the drama unfolded right before my eyes.
I met a fellow Zappa enthusiast in the front row of the audience before the show started, and we managed a brief introduction and conversation as we waited for the performance to begin. A musician and event manager from Brazil, he was very keen to hear how these Australian players would handle such complex and intricate works. He knew every word of every song, and anticipated every change in musical direction that took place as the ensemble improvised their way from one theme to the next. A true Zappa aficionado. At the end of the show, he told me that he had never seen Zappa play live, but now he knows exactly what it would have felt like if he had.
We applauded, we stood in admiration, we bellowed for more as the second set drew to a close, but there could be no more, because Jarrad Payne had another gig to play that night, on the other side of town. This is hardly surprising when you consider the depth and breadth of Payne's musicianship. As Hogan said of him, "the greatest thing that you could ever do is stand in front of this man."
Hogan was wrong, of course, because the greatest thing you could ever do is sit in front of these eight men as they weave improbable stories with unimaginable precision, at ridiculous speed, all the while grinning delightedly at each other, as we in the audience hold our collective breath. It was an absolutely enthralling and deeply satisfying performance of some of the most intricate contemporary music ever devised, and it was quite different to the last time that I witnessed Läther live. Just as it should be.
Reviewed by Ray Smith, Saturday 5th March 2022.