Lisbon’s Jazz em Agosto marks 40th anniversary with James Brandon Lewis, Ava Mendoza, Lucas Niggli and Gabby Fluke-Mogul

In recent years Jazz em Agosto (Jazz In August) has expanded its former two-long-weekends-with-a-break-in-between structure. For this grand 40th edition, JeA stretched out for surely its longest stint, with 11 consecutive nights of outdoor concerts, plus a series of weekend early evening sets in its indoor auditoriums. Unlike most festivals, JeA luxuriates with a contained nightly delicacy: an hour, or possibly 75 minutes of music to be savoured. This is the polar opposite activity-level to festivals such as Moers, Cologne and North Sea. JeA also possesses refined taste, preferring the exploratory edge of jazz, with touches of further out-there free-to-noise improvisation. Many gigs were sold out, but every single one looked mighty crowded. This is a festival that’s returned to its fullest strength following the lockdown years.

The main 9.30pm sets take place in the amphitheatre of the Museum Gardens, an immediately evocative location, with a sound system that seems to have improved greatly over the last five years. The weather conditions weren’t quite as baking as usual this year, with a few wind gusts whipping around the frogs, bats and low-flying aeroplanes.

The opening night presented omnipresent tenor saxophonist James Brandon Lewis, who is currently juggling combos, and their respective concept albums. The Red Lily Quintet recently addressed the legacy of Mahalia Jackson. JBL’s responses are not necessarily gospelised, although his ‘Wade In The Water’ sounds way more inclined that way when compared to the LP version. By his side, JBL has the underused (and rarely found in European parts) Kirk Knuffke, NYC’s king cornetist, the roster also something of a super-grouping including Tomeka Reid (her jazziest cello solos abound) and Chad Taylor (his rickety-funk drumming pulsing pugilistically). Silvia Bolognesi might be unheard-of, but she’s clearly one of Italy’s finest bass discoveries, delivering propellant lines with articulate finger-force. The gospel, the spirituality, they’re here, but not overtaking with the religious bent. JBL’s approach is abstract rather than specific, allowing the songs to speak rather than spouting verbiage (as he says). Cello and bass are entwined, sharing vine-growth lines, passing the riffs, intoning together. Knuffke solos with vivid accuracy, as the horns become interfleshed in Ornettian gospelisation. JBL is barking and belligerent, Knuffke testily pungent, as Chad keeps it steamrollin’. Lewis sounds like he’s dismantling his own tenor solo on the run, then Knuffke issues a sorrowful muted solo, over a prickled cello vamp. It’s a stomp-kick-skip trip! If he’s asked about politics, he just picks up his horn, says JBL, proceeding to demonstrate, rousingly, his present state.

Of course, JeA always includes several Portuguese acts, usually familiar, but sometimes ‘new’, even to the dedicated follower of the scene. The first early evening indoor set featured the new improvising trio of Norberto Lobo (guitar, tiny zither), Maria da Rocha (violin, electronics) and Helena Espvall (guitar, cello). Their approach is based around linear drone patterns, melodic folksy evolutions and jangling rock atmospherics rather than any particularly jazz-descended gestures. All three players chant softly. Somehow, it sounds like it’s arrived from upstate New York, although 50 minutes in they lose their grip, perhaps fortuitously as the set is nearing its hour-long limit.

New Yorker guitarist Ava Mendoza (above left) was the unstated artist-in-residence, not formally announced as such, but appearing in three contrasting sets. Revels is her band with co-composer electric bassist Devin Hoff, its quartet roster starrily completed by James Brandon Lewis and Ches Smith. They are surprisingly prog-rocky, although Lewis and Smith sway it all into prog-jazz. Riffs aplenty are arranged tightly, with Lewis firing off tangled-up solos of linear complexity, textured with a bluesy burr. Smith’s power-drumming raises Hoff’s clean basslines, as Mendoza gets busy with her scuzzy axe spirals. Uncompromising jazz tenor stands in the midst, as Mendoza slides from country choogle to urban blues.

The next night, Mendoza is a member of Bill Orcutt’s Guitar Quartet, this pair joined by Wendy Eisenberg and Shane Parish. Orcutt emerged from a Miami garage rockin’ background three decades back, with Harry Pussy, but his present systems sound has Reich and Glass in its peripheral vision, Glenn Branca in a central position. Actually, the staggered avant blues-country axe interlocks are mostly reminiscent of Captain Beefheart’s Magic Band. Orcutt appears to encourage a blanket sound for his foursome, shorn of amplifier individuality, coerced towards a clean trebly sonic. This encourages a sense of unchanging scintillation, although Mendoza provides one of the most personal ‘solos’, as she again draws in the sound of weird country music, bending and howling her notes.

On the fourth evening, Mendoza plays with Gabby Fluke-Mogul, an increasingly prominent violinist on the NYC circuit. They shun the free improvisation that might be expected, instead turning to the blues, slinking and slurrying with rasped edges. F-M pulls out a sound that’s closer to a rustily amplified mouth-harp from the Chicago sawdust depths. They might still be improvising, but within a rhythmic song-form. Dirty-drag fiddle flops over twang-guitar resonance, with the second tune sounding very much like early Marc Bolan band John’s Children.

Despite the Swiss sticksman Lucas Niggli being an exceptional player, his conceptual guided improvisation suite fails to cohere, with its card-driven musical swaps and manoeuvres contributing a sense of tentative self-consciousness, worried uncertainty rather than the manic tension of Zorn’s ‘Cobra’ (for instance). The large Sound Of Serendipity ensemble still wield many intriguing sounds, though, particularly with Dominik Blum’s Hammond organ, along with the inventive three-drumkit contingent. They slowly gather their forces, instruments not always sounding as expected, navigating from extreme minimalism to hyperactive outbursts.