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One thing that used to be a universal truism at the Ottawa Bluesfest: if there’s nothing to see just go to the Blacksheep Stage – you might not have heard of what you’ll find there, but it would invariably be something interesting.
On July 11th, 2004 I was tromping around the festival grounds and happened upon the Blacksheep Stage just in time for a Norwegian band called Jaga Jazzist. Of course I had never heard of them…heck, it would be a year or three before I found out how to pronounce their name properly (sorta like Yaga Yazzist).
Anyway, stumble upon them I did, and I was astounded. There were perhaps eight or ten musicians standing on a stage drenched in sunshine and they were playing the most intense, ethereal post-modern wackiness I had heard in a long time. I had recently ended a long stint – maybe seven or eight years – teaching a course on contemporary improvisation at Carleton University and I was pretty well-versed in atonal noise-jamming. Let’s say I knew shinola when I heard it, and Jaga Jazzist was some prime shinola.
Tuba, trombone, keys, vibes, trumpet, drums, upright bass, flute, bass clarinet, saxophones, electric bass, acoustic and electric guitars; just a phalanx of gear and a full onslaught of sound, all brought across the ocean. They were part Mike Oldfield and part John Cage, or Oldfield and Drums & Tuba, or Oldfield and MMW. Suffice to say they would do a killer version of Tubular Bells. They had tons of talent, tons of ideas, and tons of gear.
I noticed that someone in the band (likely the drummer) was triggering canned vocals and other ambient sounds and I was a-okay with that; the samples weren’t there to make up for any missing piece, they only served to augment what was clearly a very talented, adventurous group of individuals doing their best to change the world with twelve tiny notes.
They changed my little part of the world, for a time anyway, and after their set I couldn’t resist going up to the stage and telling the band that they were hands-down the best group of the festival that year. Just another one of my little white truths.
I also saw the Funk Bros. with Joan Osborne that day, but that great show has been permanently sidelined in my memory by the shock and awe of Norway’s Jaga Jazzist.
Todd Man Out 