A bunch of jazz holes.
Keen fans of this act may think it’s a bit strange that this album review has come so late after its release and be questioning the point of it all. To be honest, that’s no different from the good people at R13 as quite often many of us can be found wandering around and pondering what is the point of it all and wouldn’t it all just be a lot better for everyone if we ran off and never came back?
At times there are more than enough good reasons to stay put and persevere with the rubbish that occasionally comes up in life but at other times, there are certain things that strikes fear into the hearts of so many people that its not even worth going on.
One of these things is jazz.
To take a line from the Mighty Boosh, yes, it is easy to be afraid of jazz with its uncomformist approach and off-kilter edge and rhythms and if the spirit of jazz ever tried to climb inside this writer and wear him like a glove, it would definitely not be a pleasant experience.
Don’t get us wrong, there are some instances of good jazz, notably the work of John Coltrane or much of Miles Davis output, particularly when he got politicised and made albums that sounded as though he was hanging out with Sly Stone, with ‘On The Corner’ being a tremendous jazz record. However, these shining moments are few and far between and on the whole jazz, with particular attention being given to the type of jazz that is played live in the bars of Glasgow, is shit.
You can therefore imagine the happy faces and appreciative eyes that caught sight of the fact that Pat Metheny had got in touch with some of his mates and created another jazz record, this one entitled ‘Day Trip.’ Day Trip? Lets just be thankful it wasn’t a full two-week Mediterranean cruise!
This is the type of jazz that would go down very well with the pretentious chin-strokers who spend their Sunday afternoons sitting in clean bars that try to give the impression that they are dank watching noodling and smug self-centred musicians’ power through a whole heap of nothing to create something that is utterly bewildering and rather pointless.
Theres 68 minutes of directionless tunage on this CD so if this is the sort of thing that you are into, fire right in, for everybody else, its going to be a struggle. Sure there are moments where it is bearable, the Spanish guitar intro on ‘Dreaming Trees’ is pleasant and relaxing but these moments are few and far between, perhaps we just aren’t feeling the type of jazz that Pat Metheny is peddling but there is very little for us to promote it by. Sorry Pat but you just cut it around here!
The spirit of Jazz!