Sarathy Korwar + Future Cargo
Upon entering St Andrews Hall, I find myself unaccountably thrilled at the sight of a drum kit. Next to the drum kit are keyboards, and is that a saxophone I can see? Having watched a number of solo performers at the festival, I reconciled myself to that being the way of things. Yet here we have all the makings of a proper band, on the stage together, playing tunes. At what point did that become as unexpected as it is exciting? No less exciting for Sarathy Korwar, it seems, who can barely contain himself behind the drum kit.
“You’re probably getting sick of being told this,” he says, going on to explain this was the first time they’d played for a year, and how amazing it was.
Not sick at all, would be my response, as he’s facing an audience that feel much the same way, eager to have our earholes blasted with amplified sound after such a long time.
The evening kicked off in uncompromising style with a paean to love, life and hope, taking us through Van Gogh, Jackerwocky, mangoes and all points in between. Backed up by a dreamy sax and heavy dub from the keyboards, this was a sit-back-and-take-notice moment. Thereafter, the concert was largely an instrumental affair, but no less powerful for that.
A comparison with Shabaka Hutchings’s Comet is Coming is unavoidable, and there was something of a same spirit, but whereas Hutchings leans towards rock, this was an altogether jazzier experience. Korwar’s musical also had elements of hip-hop and electronic music, and the sort of pan-cultural experience that Aphrodite’s Child kicked off in the sixties. The overall impression, however, was of musical excellence.Korwar repeatedly name checked the members of his band, but sadly the acoustics of the hall defeated me. But whoever these blokes were, they knew how to play.
Despite being a largely wordless performance, the backbone of Korwar’s work is nonetheless political. The band memberswere all wearing signature “Fly Immigrants” shirts, and inbetween songs he spoke passionately about immigration, Palestine, and the situation in India. Indefinite Leave to Remain is a beautiful piece of music when taken on face value, but its haunting refrains and discordant rhythms take on a deeper meaning when linked to the awful ambivalence of a mealy mouthed immigration policy. Not that his approbation is reserved for this country. In a stand out song, Mumbayexplored the challenging relationship with colonial Britain, but also the dubious political momentum behind the shift from Bombay to Mumbai.
As seems to be the way this year, the performance finished long before the audience (or the performers) were ready to go, with Korwar closing on a Siki influenced piece that introduced some wonderful pre-recorded chanting, before sneaking in a soaring encore that, rather fittingly in the current climate, told off God for not doing his bit.
After such a thrilling performance, it was probably for the best that I had no more musical treats in store – there’s a danger of the latter wiping out the former in the mind. In any case, what better treat could there be than watching aliens in Chapelfield Gardens? The unseasonably cold weather made Future Cargo’s open air performance a bracing experience and had it not been so good, I might well have sloped off - still, no rain, at least for my sitting, so mustn’t grumble.
Requardt & Rosenberg’s sci-fi dance show was performed inside a 40 foot haulage truck, and if that makes it sound a tad weird, its because it was. An abstract, hallucinogenic silver clad spectacle, this mixed the overt oddness of BlackSKYwhite with the aural soundscapes of Darkfield, and did so to winning effect. Whimsical, witty and superbly executed, I thought it stronger and more focused than their flagship Electric Hotel (which frankly went on a bit). Thisbypassed the logical part of the brain and tapped into something more intuitive. I’d be fibbing if I said I understood most, or indeed any, of it but it nonetheless made a curious kind of sense. If aliens did arrive on the planet, I’m guessing they would be fascinated by water coolers, tennis rackets and pot plants. And I’m guessing we wouldn’t exactly understand their reaction to those things.
Backed by a brilliant soundtrack from Ben & Max Ringham, and nicely understated lighting design from Malcolm Rippeth, this would have been the perfect way to end a balmy early spring evening. It was a testament to the performance that the audience remained rapt throughout, despite the arctic conditions
