The Guelph Jazz Festival

Friday - The Upset

On the first night of my adventures downtown, the only word that comes quickly to mind is disappointed. Albeit disappointed doesn't need to mean uninteresting, it's just a slight of expectations to what I know a jazz festival to be, or at least what my experiences in the past have taught me.

I started out by heading to a venue called The Outstellations. More a concept than an actual location, The Oustellations are comprised of a group of varying musicians, with varying influence and varying sounds at various locations throughout the city. While these concerts are free to the public, I still don't quite understand why free needed to mean lackluster.

The first of such performances was a group of musicians parading through the streets of downtown, playing to whoever happened to be in the most immediate vicinity. I can't say that they were poor performers or lacking in talent but it hardly wowed me or said "hey, I'm at a jazz festival". The second performance of the day was at the Royal City Park, located next to Speed River at the Boathouse; a perfect venue in my mind to set a percussion ensemble and drum circle.

When I parked my car near the area and got out, I expected to hear the sounds of an organized musical number, instead I could hear only the sounds of random clinking metal and the low random beat of some unrecognizable instrument. As I approached closer to the "venue" where a small crowd had formed, I realized that what was taking place was not so much a band or group but rather a free for all percussion in the park display. There were no instruments by conventional means; only the playground equipment, cleverly being used as the device on which anyone and everyone could grab sticks, pipes, kitchen utensils, you name it, and bang away to create music.

I am a person who loves the creative, enjoys the expression of art in all its forms and can even get into the idea that these organizers were presenting. Unfortunately, I found myself asking again "jazz festival?"

Watching the diminishing group of onlookers, I too was ready to make way to the next venue, after all the night was young, 7:30 by my watch. Unfortunately, that was it. There were no more events taking place. Nothing more for an adventure to take on. Definitely not a good start to the weekend's plans.

Buried somewhere in that first day of experiences, if I were to come up with some positive tones, the silver lining on which to convince me to head back into the streets on the following day, I can at least say these musicians were generating an interest in the younger generation who were more than happy to take part in a performance in the park. For them to realize that music can come from anywhere and has the ability to bring people together is something pretty special, even if, stylistically, it wasn't quite what I was looking for.

Saturday - The Mild Redemption

When you shut down part of a major downtown artery, seal off access to all cars, set up tents, food vendors and license the entire site, I consider the organizers of the festival redeemed for last night's experiences.

With a couple beer tickets in hand, we ventured down to the food tents, where unfortunately we had arrived a little too late; Ouderkirk and Taylor, who were helping to cater the event, were just taking down their booth, but at least there were still some other options for us to taste should the mood have struck later on.

Underneath the long row of strung together tents up the street were dozens of tables and chairs, all unavailable due to the crowds already enjoying a performance onstage. This was what I had expected a small city jazz festival to be. Lots of people enjoying an outdoor performance with plenty of local food and drink, and a group of artists bringing some flare to the evening.

The band, Jean Derome Évidence Trio + 3, continued to play on, and yes they did impress me, but something I couldn't pinpoint wasn't there. However, we took in the final song of their performance and sought out to take on another event; unfortunately (notice how that word keeps popping up?) there wasn't one. This was the only stage to watch, and the next band wasn't coming on for another half hour. Again, to find the silver lining, it was a beautiful evening and we were awarded the opportunity to relax with a few drinks amongst a fairly amicable group of strangers.

With other plans on the agenda, my company left before the next band came to the stage, and while I could have joined them, I was refusing to give up on the possibility of my impressions changing. When the group did finally take their place in the spotlight, I did my best to get into the groove of Odessa/Havana; and while I enjoyed their fusion of Cuban and Jewish influences, there was still something missing from what I love about jazz music: the band just wasn't into it. Sure, they were talented, entertaining to a degree, and played some great tunes, but they just weren't selling me on the event. I think of great jazz artists, of guys and gals who really get into their craft and make those passionate faces they'd otherwise be embarassed to make, letting loose on their emotions. It just wasn't happening.

I wound up leaving Saturday night feeling a little better than the previous night's park experience but still not fulfilled.

Sunday - Throwing in the Towel

Sunday's performance list started out with an interestingly orchestrated parade, starting at three points in the city and ending at St. George Anglican Church. Each group in the parade was comprised of musicians from different backgrounds; some percussionists, a brass group and then bagpipes. When they convened at the final meeting point, their trio of music came together for a final and complete piece. It was impressive, interesting, but only lasted fifteen minutes start to finish. While I was impressed with the execution of this event, it would have been nice to take in their combined talents and watch an actual concert.

It was at this point in my experiences that I nearly gave up, tossed in the towel and just wrote off the festival altogether. To be fair to the event, I didn't attend any of the paid venues and maybe they were what made the festival so enjoyable for many. But in my mind, and maybe my understanding is skewed, the word "festival" implies a celebration in the streets; something in which anyone can partake and enjoy for more than just fifteen minutes. A stretch of time where more than one event on more than one stage takes place so that you may travel your way along and take in different flavours, sights and sounds. It's an event that doesn't require you to pay the big bucks in order to see and feel the true nature of music. If my interpretation of this word is accurate, then perhaps the city should change their event title to The Guelph Jazz Tent.

Sunday - The Affinity

Bitter and beginning to organize my extremely dissapointed thoughts and reflections, I headed into the Red Brick around 1:30 pm, with laptop in hand. Had I not arrived thirty minutes before the event began, my weekend would have never recovered from the let down of the previous performances. I would not have had a seat right next to the stage and would have been forced to sit on the floor along with the dozen or so other patrons who simply could not get a seat for the show. I would not have something worth while and fantastic to write about. I would not have seen and met Kate Schutt. And I'm a sucker for a woman with a guitar.

More to come.

-Phil