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Breuker
Breaks All the Rules
by Molly Buck
It’s
not often one gets to see a hyperactive, cacophonous circus
of talented dandies reveling in juvenile glee. But such was
my luck when, on October 5, I witnessed the Willem Breuker Kollektief,
an 11-member ensemble from Amsterdam, during one of two consecutive
evening performances at Tonic in New York City. Respected worldwide
as a highly-skilled philharmonic ensemble that experiments in
contemporary jazz, the Kollektief was in town to celebrate its
25th anniversary, and the band members got away with a great
deal of corniness throughout the evening. The confident smirks
on the faces of these musicians made it clear that they were
enjoying themselves just as thoroughly as the audience was enjoying
their music.
The
ensemble consists of ten gentlemen on trombone, trumpet, saxophone,
drum, piano and bass, and one lovely lady playing, among other
things, violin and saw. Although impossible to dance to, the
Kollektief’s sound would be perfect for an old silent film or
cartoon soundtrack. Within a single song, the musical genre
will abruptly change from standard big band to improvised jazz
to Broadway musical score to circus music. During many of these
frantic pieces, one could distinctly envision a goofy, animated
marching band moving in fast-forward or a frenzied Charlie Chaplin
striving to keep up with a factory assembly line.
With
considerable help from trombonist Nico Nijholt, who wore a
gaudy red ruffled tuxedo shirt and suspenders, the ensemble
transmitted a vaudevillian energy. During a sung rendition
of "Yes, We Have No Bananas," Nico strew various plastic fruits
over soloist Willem Breuker’s head and shoulders, while Breuker
enthusiastically played the part of the fruit vendor selling
his wares. After several solos, Nico would affectionately
hug the soloist, emoting overly sentimental tenderness and
support for his comrades. The first encore had the members
jovially dancing around the stage, eventually forming a kind
of conga line, while a few continued to play chaotic jazz
riffs, full of quick stops and abrupt key changes. The final
encore had Nico singing a mawkish love song in Dutch, while
lovingly caressing a few audience members’ heads and gazing
deeply into their eyes.
The
performance provided unique and innovative entertainment, though
the silliness sometimes detracted from the quality of music
and the high level of musicianship within the ensemble. Musically,
WBK was tight and skillfully experimental, though the drummer,
Robbie Verdurman, occasionally broke into standard rock & roll
riffs that sounded out of place. The audience was consistently
pleased and surprised by the ensemble’s antics.
On
the way out, Nico, who was hugging everyone as they filed
towards the door, caught me in a warm bear hug. Right after
this, I heard an audience member say that someone should make
little collector-series figurines of the band members. The
image perfectly punctuated the giddy feeling I got from an
evening spent with this peerless ensemble.
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