Kelly Jensen Photo
Taylor Ho Bynum.
Cornetist Taylor Ho Bynum smiled from the stage at Firehouse 12 Friday night, explaining how good it was to be back there. “I cannot imagine my life without it,” he said, from his collaborations with Anthony Braxton to his numerous performances there with other groups. On Friday, however, he was there with UK-based pianist Alexander Hawkins, as part of the Crown Street bar- recording studio-performance space’s fall jazz series, running now into December.
The series started last Friday, Sept. 20, with Weird of Mouth. Next Friday, Oct. 4, features The Jay Leonhart Trio. On Oct. 11, Lucian Ban and Mat Maneri will play; on Oct. 18, Jason Robinson Ancestral Numbers; on Oct. 25, Michaël Attias Kardamon Fall; on Nov. 1, Allen Lowe and the Constant Sorrow Orchestra; on Nov. 8, Dezron Douglas 3 PEACE, featuring Fabian Almazan and Willy Rodriguez; on Nov. 15, Jamie Saft, Joe Morris, Herb Robertson, and Bobby Previte; on Nov. 22, Ben Goldberg, Todd Sickafoose, and Scott Amendola; on Dec. 6, Tyshawn Sorey Trio; on Dec. 13, Matt Wilson’s Christmas Tree‑O; and on Dec. 20, the Jeremy Pelt Quintet closes out the series. Each evening features two sets at 8:30 p.m. and 10 p.m.
Anoush Abrar Photo
Alexander Hawkins.
At the beginning of the duo’s first set, Bynum explained that he and Hawkins, “one of my favorite piano players on the planet,” have been friends for 20 years — and have played together in a four-piece, the Converge Quartet — but that “this is the first time we’ve played in the States.” They were recording both of their Friday sets in hopes of making an album; addressing the audience, Bynum said “hopefully your positive vibes will be part of the recording,” joking that it might be refreshing for a change to be recorded “for artistic purposes and not surveillance,” as we constantly are in our day-to-day lives.
Much of what they would play would be compositions by Hawkins, who came up with them responding to a challenge from composer and cellist Tomeka Reid to write 100 tunes in 100 days. Hawkins found the exercise quite helpful, even if, listening back, he sometimes found that he “wrote the same tune three times.” But he ended up with a lot of material, and “some of these tunes are products of that.”
Hawkins and Bynum began together with a lilting melody that had just enough rhythmic trickery to keep listeners on their toes. Suddenly, the mood became more sullen, as Bynum headed into a long keening passage on cornet while Hawkins brooded beneath him. The piece steadily built energy, with the cornet getting more frantic, the piano more insistent. It hit a peak and settled.
Hawkins then rolled out a sharp melody in the upper register of the instrument that grew more delicate, as Bynum created guttural sounds that served as atmosphere. After a flourish from the piano, the duo retuned to where they started, with that lilting melody. It was nervous and playful, and set a parameter of sorts for where the performance was going.
The next piece started with eruptions of low-register notes from Hawkins under a wandering cornet from Bynum, using a hat as a mute. Soon, Hawkins was attacking the keys in earnest, creating aggressive phrases that Bynum responded to with sounds like those of a crying animal. Hawkins then offered a structure, jangling harmonies, and Bynum returned with lyricism. Together they played a simple, elegant melody.
Bynum then explained that together he and Hawkins had been exploring some of the works of Bill Dixon, a composer Bynum studied with who died in 2010. They settled on two works, titled “Q” and “X,” “because you got to pick the coolest letters,” Bynum joked. The more true answer was that they were “magnetically drawn to them.”
Hearing it, it was easy to see why. “Q” began with a drone that both Bynum and Hawkins complicated — Bynum by deploying multiple pitches, Hawkins by placing objects on the strings inside the piano to create gong-like textures, which he then used to set up a pulsing rhythm. Bynum kept the drone going, making it richer and more menacing. Hawkins introduced a piercing melody in the upper register; Bynum turned the drone into a war cry.
As they settled back from that peak, the piece suddenly got more contemplative. Hawkins took a solo, his hands moving like jumping spiders on the keys. He was a physically expressive player, sometimes giving the impression of pushing notes out of the piano, giving them weight. Again the musicians joined together on a shared melody, lyrical and powerful.
Returning to Hawkins’s pieces, the next began with a solo from Bynum, but as Hawkins kept his foot on the piano’s sustain pedal, the piano vibrated back every note Bynum played, until the cornet was surrounded by a cloud of pitches. Then Bynum dove into a snorting, gurgling, ululating sound, as Hawkins dropped strident chords beneath him. For a minute it sounded almost tawdry, the grimy end to a bad night. Hawkings took off on an excursion with echoes of abstract stride piano. He consolidated the ideas until his hands were playing one atop the other, delivering a churning melody.
The second Bill Dixon composition, “X,” began with a spacious melody from the piano, while Bynum coaxed some of the more delicious sounds of the night out of his horn, shaping the timbre and texture of each note. It was the set’s most sombre moment, and for the final piece of the evening — another Hawkins composition — they flipped the mood on its head. It was a flurry of melody from cornet and piano, fluttering around the space, almost Romantic in its expressiveness. For a final time, they joined together in a melody, one that felt peaceful and free.
For more information about the upcoming shows in Firehouse 12’s fall concert series, visit its website.