Braxton and Threadgill bring the sound of surprise to the Barbican

Don’t ever let anyone tell you that the audience for avant-garde jazz is tiny, or non-existent: The Barbican’s main hall was, if not sold out, certainly very full, for this evening of music by two titans of the Chicago/AACM scene, Messrs Anthony Braxton and [recent Jazzwise cover star]  Henry Threadgill; there is most certainly a sizeable number of people willing to embrace music from the freer, more cerebral end of the jazz spectrum (affirmed by the loud applause both men received at the end of their respective sets).

First up, Braxton, performing with his New Acoustic Quartet (bassist Carl Testa, drummer Mariá Portugal and trumpeter Susana Santos Silva, plus a synth drone switched on and off by the saxophonist). One of the great things about the hugely prolific Braxton and his endlessly questing nature is that you’re never quite sure what you’re going to get until he gives it; and tonight, we got the great man at his most intellectual, and most austere. Despite the anticipation building in the hall and the Barbican’s bars beforehand, this set never quite took off, and I heard some grumblings during the interval.

True, the music (one hour-long piece, but obviously built around Braxton’s famous ‘modular’ approach) was taken at one pace, and there were no climaxes or swells, only subtle ripples; but Portugal is a brilliant drummer, a joy to watch and hear, and completely in harmony with her leader… and Braxton’s own playing, while restrained, offered up enough dissonance, harmony and angularity to hold the attention. Perhaps the piece we heard – which was obviously quite tightly composed, Braxton ‘conducting’ his ensemble with his trademark intriguing/incomprehensible gestures – could have done with more room for the players to really let rip. But this is Anthony Braxton we’re talking about, and he’s always worth seeing, even if he very occasionally mildly disappoints.

Threadgill’s five-piece Zooid (with the leader on flutes and alto; the excellent acoustic guitarist Liberty Ellman, Christopher Hoffmann on cello; Jose Davila playing tuba and trombone; and Elliot Humberto Kavee on drums) were making a welcome return to London after a decade or so’s absence and offered a more conventionally accessible version of the old AACM free jazz spirit. Make no mistake, however – Henry hasn’t hoisted his flag to convention: this is hugely complex, and deeply demanding, music, which also happens to be firmly rooted in the world of (poly)rhythm, so it gives, as the guy behind me said, “something to grab on to”.

Kavee was another percussive standout, a master of his kit and of his brief, but also a hugely entertaining watch. Threadgill himself made beautifully-judged interventions on both flute and alto; of all the musicians onstage, he actually played the least, but always made an impact when he chose to blow or trill. And despite being firmly rooted in the avant-garde, this set offered up moments of surprising beauty (and even tranquillity) as well as the expected free-jazz roil. This was music of great wit and charm, possessed of the same spirit as the dapper Threadgill, and was the perfect dessert to follow the main-course abstract asperities of his colleague.