F-IRE Collective is an exciting hotpoint of pioneering jazz, which fosters and cultivates emerging young talent both nationally and internationally through a school of like-minded composers and performers, inciting a vivacious wave of creativity bubbling up through the surface of London's jazz scene. I witnessed the F-IRE Collective big band on two separate occasions at the RNCM in 2005 and 2007, and on one occasion I was even lucky enough to play with F-IRE Collective graduates saxophonist Ingrid Laubrock and trumpeter Tom Arthurs through the Manchester University Big Band, organised by Graham South. Today, I was fortunate enough to hear Porpoise Corpus, one of their newest ensembles, who incite innovative, electrifying and trailblazing original music; combining a wide range of influences, juxtaposing live acoustic and electronic instruments that crash and burn their way through explosive interludes balanced with languid pools of sustained piano and creamy saxophone, and integrating contemplative, sophisticated sensibilities with grooving material that has a sense of immediacy among listeners. The dissonant ballast antagonises itself between periods of tension and relaxation; swelling outwards, withdrawing inwards, and occasionally giving way to glistening, gleaming, diminished and inquisitive vibraphonic releases. The concert finale offered a glimpse inwards into the milky way, sailing outwards into a vast expanse of stellar, musical horizons. ​

Phronesis Big Band mix instruments with vocals in an interesting combination of free jazz improvisation and structured arrangement. Their music has an authoritative, auspicious quality to it, and it almost materialises a fantasy film score with a prophetic undertone, tinged with seclusion, mystery and awe. Its lines ebb and flow with magic, effortlessly interchanging between brass and vocals, and transporting you on a whirlwind ride through a sequence of through-composed, programmatic soundscapes. Structurally, it is loose and free in some sections, whilst in others, the material is tonally and rhythmically centred. Occasionally, it is reminiscent of the music of American composer Charles Ives, synonymously juxtaposing a multitude of layers; liturgical, choral curtains with a stratosphere of sparkling piano clusters and gently spattering percussion - engendering a transcendental texture wherein the past and present seem interchangeable. Towards the end, the integrated clapping textures intermingling with the scatted vocal ostinato patterns manifest the most fundamentally and organically human forms of musical expression, gripping the heart and lifting the soul. This clears the way for mirrors of piano sheen, and flourishing brass improvisations among hissing, rumbling percussion.

​Solstice are a six-piece band comprising vocals, alto flute / tenor saxophone, piano, guitar, bass and drums. I was lucky enough to catch a preview of pianist John Turville earlier in the evening, playing with his trio, so I decided to follow him across town to witness his work with this modern jazz ensemble. The ensemble play a mixture of their own original compositions, combined with arrangements of works by contemporary jazz composers. Their sound is steely, smooth and haunting; wonderful when cosied up by the Christmas tree in the warmth of this intimate venue, the Walthamstow Cricket Club. Their style is characterised by the juxtaposition of a repeated refrain or backing against a melange of wild, free improvisation, over complex time signatures - 6/8, 9/8 and even 14/8 (I counted) in one composition. This effectively throws the listener into a hypnotic, trance-like, almost kaleidoscopic void, that draws you with its dual sense of stability and instability, with its free, meandering improvisations revolving around repetitive refrains and cycles. The building sections are beautifully carried out, and help to propel the momentum upwards, while the more intense moments are balanced by cool, shimmering plateaux of peace. Some of the compositions have a very urban, almost industrial sensibility to them; in my mind, its busy, chaotic, angular yet atonal lines seem to weave among streets of traffic and towering skyscrapers. The delivery was very well-rehearsed and polished, and the music created a relaxed, contemplative ambience.

​Matt Roberts presented his all-star big band lineup made up of current and ex-students from the London music colleges, in the front room of the Southbank Centre, as part of the London Jazz Festival. The concert consisted of five compositions, all written by Matt Roberts himself. His progressive compositional style is gloriously reminiscent of Bob Curnow and Pat Metheny, combining an age-old charm with the new and challenging ideas. The symbiotic relationship between the classical and the jazz elements that Matt Roberts writes about on his website is evident, for there is a distinctly orchestral or 'wind band' feel to his sound, which interchanges seamlessly with fluid jazz essence. Horizontally (structurally), the compositions explore the antagonism between concordance and dissonance, ever progressing towards symphonic, culminating moments of accomplishment - perhaps with the exception of the fifth composition, New Horizons, which is cyclic and infinite. Vertically (texturally), the emphasis is constantly shifting between the objective, organisational ensemble writing, and the subjective autonomy of its individual soloists; each composition like a tasty sandwich, with thick crusty brassy textures, and thick, buttery chords.

The first two compositions offer explorations into rural, almost neo-medieval landscapes; dripping in modalism analogous to feudalism, and weaving lavishly integrated tapestries of texture, harmony and melodic interplay. The first composition, inspired by the constellation Orion, is a strident 12/8 feel, with a valiant thematic language evocative of Bob Curnow's Celtic Big Band sound world. The programmatic 'jazz' landscape, with its peaks and valleys, is like a fantasy film score to an epic legend - think Robin Hood or King Arthur - with the fanfare-like interludes playing out noble struggles and triumphant victories, underpinned with a folky, almost Celtic lilt. The harmonies are tonally centered, and for the most part, conventional, however they occasionally extend themselves outwards in a technically sophisticated manner without losing their immediacy. Structurally, there is a satisfying interplay between the saxophones and brass, and the gradual building up towards the climactic, jovial moments are very well restrained and controlled. The 'Minuano'-like cross-rhythms produce a brilliant counterpoint of rich, shimmering textures, like a stained glass window of sound. The second composition starts off languid, like a river, with a spongy, mellow flugelhorn line intertwining with the smooth tone of the soprano saxophone, played by Johnny Griffiths. The mood is grandiose, yet gentle, with lazy melodic musings and chiming, expansive, bell-like chords that fluctuate like the subtle shifting of tectonic plates gradually building mountains over time, culminating in majestic peaks with soaring trumpets on the horizon reminiscent of hillside fanfares.

The third composition, Oligopithecus, inspired by an early human primate, is placed at the mid-point of the programme, and is a stark contrast to the other compositions; bringing into relief an alternative, more avant-garde dimension to his writing - both in its fusion of irregular time signatures, and in its heavy emphasis on free improvisation. The dissonant tritonic and diminished harmonies, coupled with the mischievous, gyrating groove, hints that trouble is brewing. Although the mood of the composition is comparably darker, it does not lose its comical edge. The focal point of the composition is the enacted 'battle' between two soloists (or primates, as indicated in the commentary). The chaotic, gritty improvisations manifest the animal-like shrieks, whimpers, cries and moans of primal beasts in the thick of turmoil, punctuated by militant, charging ensemble sections.

The fourth composition is structured in two parts, a ballad and a waltz. The ballad begins with an improvised solo piano introduction, played by Sam Leake - daylight filtering in over the aftermath of the battle in the previous composition - with an improvisation demonstrating a poignant sensitivity and subtlety. The texture is soon moistened with lush curtains of brassy texture, with dovetailing call-and-response melodies that ripple and overlap one another over the course of the ballad. The waltz section re-introduces the rolling 3/4 and 6/8 cross-rhythms of the first composition. Here, off-beat brassy chords are thrown directly across the beat, and the dotted crotchet is marked by the cymbal bell, further distorting the rhythmic perspective. Tom White's trombone sound has a deep, rounded and sweet tone, his fluttery, fluffy improvisation flossing organically through the additional sheets of chordal material that fall around its shoulders. After a brief, folky bridge of hammering triplets, Laura enters with a trumpet solo; initially shrouded in dark mystery, but increasingly gutsy, flighty and discordant. This builds up until the orchestra, in unison, plays an ascending five-note scale which swells upwards and explodes into the original, expansive, ballad feel, indulging in plenty of juicy suspension chords.

The fifth composition, New Horizons, is inspired by a photograph of the planet Saturn. This composition is again different, and, in my opinion, the most compelling musically, for it demonstrates an extraordinary degree of maturity for a writer so young. The composition starts and ends with a space-age 7/8 ostinato pattern on the guitar harmonics, calculatedly revolving in an enigmatically coded combination of notes. The mood is celestial and contemplative, with kaleidoscopic, cyclic melodies that arc inwards and (for the most part) coalesce around themselves - although occasionally folding outwards in funky linear inflections, expelling rays of melodic light. The harmonies, in contrast to the first two compositions, are more dissonant, with juxtaposed seconds and sharpened elevenths, rendering a focused, ultra-modern lens. Behind the piano solo, played by Sam Leake, the saxophones and lower brass blow a ghostly wind, like a star field shimmering in the depths of space. The dynamic is controlled, occasionally rippling with threatening ruptures, but for the most part tactfully restrained. The ascending phantom-like, reverse pedal guitar solo demonstrates great technical accomplishment, considering the difficulty of learning and applying the technique which is often heard within the context of psychedelic, progressive rock. As the solo builds, the nauseous brassy undertow rises up again, and the 12/8 cross-rhythms return, building into a deafening wall of sounds and culminating in a florid bridge that prompted a spontaneous burst of delight from the audience. The music swiftly shifts through a number of skeletal segments, and then comes to rest on a drifting, floating piano improvisation which twinkles like stars up in the stratosphere, clearing to leave the original, resolute guitar harmonic ostinato which prevails long after the band has finished, eventually fading into blackness. This recurring ostinato technique is effective, for it implies that there is no beginning or ending to the composition; rather, that the composition itself has merely tapped into an infinite stream.

Altogether, the programme was well-balanced, since it started and ended on a cosmological note, with the celestial themes of the two outer compositions - which, in themselves, seem to embody tradition and modernity, or astrological and astronomical perspectives, respectively. The middle tune progressed from the macrocosm - space, to the microcosm - man, in its anthropological premise. Moreover, it is so pleasing to hear modern big band writing that both acknowledges the traditional idioms of modalism and neo-classical tonality yet embraces the contemporary influences of fusion and free improvisation that we have heard elsewhere in the festival, thus bridging a thematic continuum that is relative and innovative at the same time. This is the ultimate strength of the Matt Roberts Big Band. I look forward to hearing much more writing from this talented young composer, and trumpet player.

​The PB Underground is a large funk, soul and motown outfit featuring many of the UK's top musicians. The band kicked off in 2008 by building on a core of musicians who have played with one another in various lineups, so the level is already tight and has instantly created a storm on the London funk scene, fireballing several sell-out shows and stirring up a party at festivals, clubs and venues wherever they appear. The band's expansive lineup is built upon a tight core of heavyweight rhythm section players who have played together as a unit for several years and already make a phenomenal sound together. Added to this are a pool of London's top vocal stars, each with big personalities, wide ranges and oodles of bling factor - each commanding the stage and creating a captivating presence. The ready-made and gelled horn section, bought into the band after having extensively toured together, give it that 'BIG BAND' sound - combining blistering brass hooks with stabbing, stinging riffs, and crisp, chunky blocks of harmony. The texture is fattened out with a trio of pulsating electric guitars, tasty keyboards and illustrious backing vocalists, all laid down with thick, buttery bass lines. The resulting 17-piece lineup is truly a spectacle, and nothing is done half-heartedly or in small measure - the band bring extra percussion, extra pianos and special electronic effects to add that extra zing - in terms of their lineup, sound and general vibe, think BIG. Their live shows cook up a stonking mix of heady Tower-of-Power-style funk, with touches of James Brown and Stevie Wonder, and the progressive momentum of Earth, Wind & Fire, causing a funkadelic revival and inspiring a surge of new, raw material to be written, played and enjoyed worldwide in the coming decade... This is straight-up, to-the-point, no bollocks, good music, the way that music is meant to be played, bringing sledges of attitude, soulfulness and positive feeling. Listening to the band, it is impossible not to move; the catchy vocal refrains mess with your head and make you dizzy with euphoria. With each song, the band drive the energy and momentum up another level until you think that they cannot possibly go further (yet they still do) whilst successfully avoiding the usual clichés saturated throughout most mainstream commercial music, but instead brewing up their own uniquely infectious and engaging recipe. These musicians have their heads screwed on and their feet firmly in the music. All clearly professionally trained and industry schooled, these guys are at the top of their game and they KNOW what they are doing: they understand how to write a good tune that utilises that 'jazzy' technical sensibility to the max - juicy, sophisticated chord changes, inventive rhythms and grooves, and flashy improvisation - without losing the ingredients of a quality song that moves audiences with an effortless mastery direct from the laboratory of FUN. The rhythm section maintained the pumping dynamic throughout the entire set, as the vocalists brought the ecstacy into relief. Even though they had played for two hours straight, it was all over too quickly, and by the end of it, the audience was in rapture, demanding not one, not two, but THREE encores. As a musician watching, it is pretty scary to see how far they can push the bar, with their roof-shattering solos, floor-shaking grooves and cascading vocal cadenzas; it reminds you how man is truly the measure of all things, and it instantly generates ripples that you simply want to be part of. In just three days, I have been completely blown off my feet by some of the amazing things happening in the festival, and the sheer talent that is all around us, but this has definitely been the highlight for me so far. Here is a band destined for great things, and definitely one to follow in the coming months with plenty of shows lined up and the promise of an album release in the forthcoming year, and one I'll be raving about to everyone I know. The band modestly describe themselves as 'a work in progress'... I say that it is a work of a collective genius, and an inspiration for musicians and audiences alike across all genres and backgrounds, for generations to come.

The 606 jazz club may feel a bit off the beaten track, but behind the caged stairwell in the basement club, I discovered a hidden gem. When I arrived, the quartet was in the thick of a funky, swish samba groove, bursting with energy and nu-bossa flavours. The group have a real vibe about them that I can't quite put my finger on. Their music has a true culture of its own, one that speaks directly to the heart and nurtures the soul, with its own moods and temperaments; at times longing and nostalgic, glowing with a fond reminiscence; at other times rich and folky with Latin and gypsy touches. The music took us through majestic peaks and surging tidal waves of emotional epic, spirited dances and wistful lullabies. The encore treated us to a steaming serving of hot, stonking swing, with each of the musicians playing over the rhythm changes at breathtaking pace, displaying an accomplished sense of virtuosity. I was stunned just watching this - these guys have really made their craft, and they can do anything that they want with it. By the end of it, the audience were completely enchanted, and there was a real sense of magic in the air. A gig that neither I nor the rest of the audience will forget!

​Stevie Williams spun a terrifically brilliant improvisation, alternating between playful, wistful and intense, moving almost effortlessly from one idea to another, and making pleasing use of the full palette of colours available at his disposal. My favourite feature was the way in which he interchanged between tenor and soprano saxophones over one idea; starting a musical passage in the upper register of the tenor, and picking it up from exactly where he left off on the lower range of the soprano, only to dip down into the tenor - all in the same phrase, the transition seamless. Another highlight was the way in which he really played with the acoustics in the auditorium - fluctuating between different colours and intensities over one tone. His saxophone sound was light, yet brittle, haunting, and at times gritty and husky. The delivery was well-projected in such a large space - not forced. The pianist Pat Thomas combined cascading clusters with Stravinsky-esque grooving cycles, which alternated between clashing discords, whole-tone amusement and almost ballad-like concordance. The slower passages of the music explored some lush tonal pastures, languishing in drifting interchanges of situation, allowing Stevie Williams' saxophone to flutter up into the stratosphere only to spiral freely back down again. In general, his performance style is centred around autonomous, spontaneous improvisation, which reflect his life experiences, and paint an honest picture of where he is at the moment. From where I was sitting, it was apparent that he is in a pretty good place right now!

​Steve Coleman took us on a whirlwind tour across a multitude of musical landscapes and themes, from hot to cold, from sad to playful, from heavy grooves to fluid floridity and lyricism. His improvisations are centred around one motivic segment, which forms the structural and thematic germ of his musical argument, which grows organically into a multi-faceted work. This allows the band to really stretch out and to enjoy an unmeasurable degree of flexibility; the angular leaps, corners and runs open windows and doors into alternate musical situations, at times striving earnestly towards tonality, yet always retreating back to its motivic centre as quickly as it departed - each time implying something else that could almost be a section of another song, in itself.

In terms of the ensemble playing, the band gelled under an immense degree of sensitivity; the musicians almost predicting one another's next moves and turns. You can tell that these guys know one others' playing intimately. Yet this is nothing too deep - it's all on the surface, at the perimeter, edge of your pants stuff. The improvisations of drummer Marcus Gilmore drew gasps of delight and rapture from the audience; throwing out a barrage of distorted rhythmic perspectives and shapes in a remarkable variety of timbres and colours, as though there were an entire batucada ensemble emanating from one musician, or even an orchestra, for it was clear that his thinking was more than just rhythmic - he was thinking melodically, possibly harmonically. His interplay with the pianist David Virelles grooved militantly and stridently, yet staggered and fell over one another at times, giving the momentum a delightful viscosity.

Coleman's saxophone sound is profoundly spiritual, rooted in the influences from Cuba, Brazil and West Africa, yet at the same time insanely logical and methodical. This balance is complemented by a confident, charismatic and often witty delivery; Coleman is buzzing with energy and humour, yet he is clearly in control of the musical situation, and unwavered by the levels of momentum that emanates from this tight three-piece unit. The musical improvisation run freely, almost childish, but embossed with the weight of density behind it, always playing with your expectations. The Afro-Cuban influences were particularly poignant in the last part of the gig, with variants of the 12/8 bell patterns returning at the end, phasing against a juxtaposed riff scatted out with the piano, the de-synchronisation techniques gradually distorting the musical horizons and leaving us hungry again. Altogether it was a fantastic start to the festival; leaving the audience cheering and pleading for more. It gave us enough of a taste of something to entice us to Ronnie Scott's for an aftershow Jazz Festival broadcast where we were treated to another delightful offering - altogether different within the jazz bar. Absolutely stunning!