Tatsuya Natakatani, Jil Christensen, Crowmeat Bob | Kings | Clubs & Concerts | Indy Week
This is a past event.

Tatsuya Natakatani, Jil Christensen, Crowmeat Bob 

When: Fri., Dec. 8, 8 p.m. 2017
Price: $10

Periodically throughout his career, the drummer Max Roach would unleash a solo just using a high hat. He would tap out crazy rhythmic patterns, adjust the tension between the two cymbals to modulate the color, and batter the metal stand holding the cymbals up for a nicely contrasting metallic thunk. The arcs of these solos were always a little different, but each iteration revealed the surprisingly wide range of sounds that a cymbal or two can create in the right hands.

Tatsuya Nakatani's hands are the right hands. Give him a gong and a bow or two (preferably one of his own, custom-made Kobo bows), and he'll spend twenty minutes teasing out volleys of all-encompassing overtones that vibrate every fiber of your being. Give him the dozen gongs in his gong orchestra, and he'll transport you to outer space, channeling the wails of alien whales, the collisions of stars, and the crackle of matter coming in and out of being. Give him some cymbals, and he'll drag them across drum heads to create screeching wails or blow through the hole in the middle to produce sounds that either scare off demons or invite them for tea. Give him a drum or two, and he'll cover them in bells and bowls, which he'll keep in constant motion, skittering this way and that, emitting either a low, gentle hum or the clatter and crash of falling sheet metal.

A Nakatani drum solo is an architectural, sculptural experience, where he punctuates moments of stasis with hyperkinetic flurries of activity. The way he moves around his setup is equal parts dance and tectonic force. One moment he'll be attacking a drum head with an egg beater, and the next, he'll draw two cymbals across each other with exacting precision. Waves of emotion rise and fall as buildings of sound emerge and collapse.

As a collaborator, Nakatani takes a more subtle approach. Like all the best improvisers, he is, first and foremost, a listener, intuiting where his fellow musicians are heading and adding musical textures that propel the dialogue. His deep reservoir of power and timbre pushes any ensemble in fascinating directions. When he stops in Raleigh, he'll be joined by two longtime Triangle improvisers: reed player Crowmeat Bob and keyboardist Jil Christensen. Over the course of three sets with three different permutations of players, the sonic possibilities are endless. —Dan Ruccia

Enter your starting address (include city or postal code):

(directions will appear below map)

Nearby

Reviews/comments

Subscribe to this thread:

Add a review

INDY Week publishes all kinds of comments, but we don't publish everything.

  • Comments that are not contributing to the conversation will be removed.
  • Comments that include ad hominem attacks will also be removed.
  • Please do not copy and paste the full text of a press release.

Roll over stars and click to rate.

Permitted HTML:
  • To create paragraphs in your comment, type <p> at the start of a paragraph and </p> at the end of each paragraph.
  • To create bold text, type <b>bolded text</b> (please note the closing tag, </b>).
  • To create italicized text, type <i>italicized text</i> (please note the closing tag, </i>).
  • Proper web addresses will automatically become links.

© 2017 Indy Week • 320 E. Chapel Hill St., Suite 200, Durham, NC 27701 • phone 919-286-1972 • fax 919-286-4274
RSS Feeds | Powered by Foundation