DAMO SUZUKI & FRIENDS @ Hull Adelphi, Tue 16th March 04
There's a small Japanese guy with long grey hair wandering round in a woolly cardigan, while quiet Beach Boys songs play through the still Adelphi air. There's no huge fanfare for Damo Suzuki, nor would he seem to want one, despite constant billing as one 'living legend'. Suzuki sung with Can in the 1970s, perhaps the band for whom the loose term 'Krautrock' was invented to describe (in a quite insulting way!) long spaced-out grooves and stream-of-consciousness rock. If it wasn't for pioneers like Can, your Primal Screams and your Spiritualizeds would probably churn out three-minute Rolling Stones rip-offs every night, instead of the almost-commonplace mind-expanding epics. His former band are so influential, even Mark E Smith wanted to be him (alt-cultural figurehead in his own right giving a good impression in the Fall song called, er, 'I Am Damo Suzuki'). But what's he going to do for us tonight?
Suzuki's touring the country with a new backing band every night, the pick of each town's musicians turning out to improvise. Can's recorded output might've come out of jams that lasted hours, but these were then edited together. What's he going to do live? Stalk the stage dictating the mood? Conduct each musician in a tutorial style?
Of course not - the players all know what to do. Group improv is like playing that game where each person in the group says one word to make a story, hit and miss by its very nature, but if everyone's listening to what's going on, this mix of instinct and interaction can make for a fresh and great experience. Suzuki stands swaying centre stage, mic gripped tightly, vocalising over the top of whatever the band are building. This happens for an hour, then the musicians change (Hull taking in the usual Misshapen improv group and computerized bongos, Salako's James on violin and nearly the whole (d)Edibles old line-up on various instruments, and someone scatting almost as madly as Damo) and things start again. There are three sets in all.
At times this sort of thing can be an endurance test, since there's often little simple to pick up on -dissonant music, and chanting in another language or speaking in tongues- but each small melody might be seized and extended, or the space left to show Damo's tremendous range to the fore. Each group of musicians brings something new, the second set have a drummer who delights in each few fills he can fit into a mellow moment, the third working up a funk storm in partnership with the bassist, forming a mood which gives their set the feel of one incredibly long song rather than different musical suites, but does close the evening in an upbeat fashion. Again, with this style of music it's easy to throw accusations of self-indulgence (I'm reminded of the Doors' infamous, ten-minute no-tune 'The End', but for the most part the crowd seem mesmerised by the growling yowling figure. Suzuki has plenty of time for the audience - he even comes round and shakes each of us by the hand. If you're ready for something different, catching him live is highly recommended.
