Don Kapot, Ethnic Heritage Ensemble, Aka Moon and Yannick Peeters turn up the burners at Brussels Jazz Festival

Brussels Jazz Festival suffered too much misfortune during the lockdown times. Two entire editions were cancelled, due to its January placement in the calendar, a guaranteed virus-surge period. Perhaps too cautiously, it returned for a four-day version in 2023, but now the BJF is totally reinvigorated, reunited with its full 10-day spread. Furthermore, pretty much every gig reached full capacity.

This festival has a successful strategy of blending starry Americans with local Belgian acts, usually with a strong UK contingent, and a few insurgents from the rest of Europe. One of the supreme highlights was Kahil El’Zabar’s Ethnic Heritage Ensemble, celebrating their 50th anniversary. (See the soon-coming review in Jazzwise’s April print edition.)

Also in the larger Studio 4 (Flagey was originally a radio station headquarters), the Aka Moon trio were expanded by The Orchestral Constellation, five extra players on accordion, cello, trumpet and trombones. Aka always push for new situations, and here their alto saxophonist Fabrizio Cassol had been tinkering with microtonal systems, penning an ambitious extended work. Perhaps too ambitious, as they were hitting the 90-minute mark when your scribe left the hall. This is a festival designed for minimal overlaps. It’s possible to catch every set, mostly, but the Moons looked like they were about to launch into another (at least) 10 minute epic, while Don Kapot were due to begin in the foyer 30 mins earlier. Often, a subsequent set will be delayed, but this can only be stretched for so long. As it happened, Don Kapot were just about to begin, at 11.05pm, weary of waiting. Also, as it happened, Aka Moon’s ridiculous extension wasn’t warranted, as the music was becoming somewhat bloated by this time, with long accordion, piano and alto solos, somewhat short on ensemble development. Accordionist João Barradas was also too keen on using his instrument to trigger Moog-like sounds. Earlier parts of the Aka set were more exciting. The cello was an important part of the structure, as Michel Hatzigeorgiou’s electric bass formed the shifting bedrock. This was one of Aka Moon’s more cerebral sequences of music, particularly with Cassol’s streaming citrus fountain. The best sections were where it threw off its own shackles.

Don Kapot helped release our tensions, conveying a completely different atmosphere, although still involving a complexity to its twitchy dance. Two months after their Jazz Brugge appearance, this was the hardcore trio of drums, bass and baritone saxophone, without the guesting dance ensemble. It was also coming up to The Witching Hour, and folks were wanting to party, even on a Wednesday night. Compact, hard and pointedly directed, Kapot’s tunes locked to rip. A punk’n’roll shimmy ensued. Blurting baritone sometimes paused for a small keyboard melody line, garage-retro in nature, from stabbing clusters to bleeping ornery-ness. Giotis Damianidis switched from electric bass to guitar, loading the sound with a serration of atonal snarl-riffs. Bassy tom rolls chundered onwards. Each member made frequent digressions, widening the structure expected from a trio, soloing wildly in support of the general thrust. Here, a desert blues snuck in, and a microphone placed directly on a cymbal created an ear-killer sizzle.

Gingerblackginger (above) Photo by Patrick Van Vlerken

Following the takeover of Jazz Brugge by W.E.R.F. Records in November, the label still had a significant presence here in Brussels. With Don Kapot, of course, but also with an album release show by bassist Yannick Peeters, presenting GingerBlackGinger in the smaller Studio 1. She’s partnered herself with a pair of individual stylists in guitarist Frederik Leroux and reedsman Frans Van Isacker, who both add firm sonic personalities to this composed music, which is nevertheless open to spontaneous transgression. Bass clarinet misted the lenses, mood rising, guitar providing spike-cut edges. This all happened at a relatively low volume, but still capturing excitement. Samuel Ber replaced the Tom Rainey of the album, brushing beside the leader’s bowing. A low blue-sickness lighting prevailed. Isacker made tiny tears via his reed, Leroux chose a ghostly organ sound, then the alto saxophone came out for a bebop swinger, amidst all this abstraction. The guitar was intimately knitted, rhythms tottering and tripping, but courting smooth reed action. Peeters walked her bass with tough attitude. A squalling, sparse alto stretch turned into lyrical romance once the others joined Isacker, flotation empathy coming hither.

An unusual and specialist lunchtime Studio 1 gig was well worthwhile, even for the non-Dutch speaker, although some of Oerhert’s poetry was translated into English when expanded by the two musicians that flanked writer and reciter Astrid Haerens. Jasmijn Lootens stroked soft cello, whispering backing vocals, as the poems merged into an expanded song-form, an environmental sonic exploration. Mariske Broeckmeyer took a more active role, with her very wide-ranging vocal dynamics, theatrically shifting from high to low tones. Her keyboard work possessed a similarly diverse nature of piebald tones, uniting molasses bass and trebly slivers.

There were artists from France and England, both also gathering full crowds into the intimate Studio 1. The Wajdi Riahi Trio is led by a Tunisian pianist, operating on the ECM plane, but making his music more individual when tipping in aspects of his north African roots. Sometimes the trio favoured intelligent lounge music, with drummer Pierre Hurty imaginatively using muted skins, and bell-ringing, Riahi developing melodic themes. Then Hurty played bendir frame drum, and Riahi sang mournfully, completely switching the mood. A gliding introversion gradually opened up. When Riahi played solo, whistling along, we thought of Tigran Hamasyan, but the closing number had a Moroccan gnaoua feel to Basile Rahola’s bass, complete with a buzzing distortion.

Work Money Death hail from Leeds, but their profile is not high. This gig might help them across the borders, as their form of old school spiritual jazz soon whipped up the crowd’s enthusiasm. It was refreshing to catch a crew who plumbed back to the classic sound of British jazz from the 1970s and ‘80s, blended with linear, slowly uncoiling Afro-groove themes. Richard Ormrod split time between brooding bass clarinet and exotic percussion, helping the band’s distinctive palette spread. Tenor saxophonist Tony Burkill has an irritating penchant for mostly using his left hand on the horn, making distracting gestures (or shaking tambourine) with his right, but when the set heated up he was increasingly forced to use both mitts, a definite asset when he was soloing more bullishly, on the second half’s extended grooves. The band name, by the way, is totally inappropriate when considering the music that they produce.

The excellent DJ Nixie spun out the final night, in the foyer, attracting a cluster of determined outsider dancers. Which other jazz festival can offer such a top-off with the cranging sound of The Fall and The Cramps?