Pantonic Live! - The CD!
A Critical Review By—Frankie McIntosh
Rather abruptly, our Sociology professor asked for an example
of a “synergistic collaboration”; silence pervaded the room;
that was during my college freshman year. Today, without
hesitation, I’d holler “the Pantonic Live CD!”. This musical
masterpiece is a product of the joint efforts of: veteran
arranger Clive Bradley; the Pantonic Steel Orchestra led by
Keith Roberts; and Basement Recordings’ sound crew, directed by
distinguished engineer, musician, and educator Trevor John. My
discussion of the work reveals a professional bias, in that I
(an arranger), dwell largely upon the musical imagination of
Clive Bradley, with particular focus on Andre Tanker’s Ben Lion
(extended version, track #3).
Despite multiple levels of internal activity, Ben Lion
maintains remarkable outward stability and coherence. Bradley’s
craftsmanship on this piece supports a conviction I have long
held: the term “arranger” as applied to many in the pan world,
is a misnomer. These artists are bona fide composers, their
inventiveness far transcending the bounds of arranging. (See
further discussion of Ben Lion under “Addendum” below.)
Shadow’s Stranger is imbued with a strong rhythmic drive, the
warmth of Caribbean sunshine and the smell of ripe mango. Kudos
to the engine room here. The listener’s initial response may be
involuntary toe tapping, but his mind is also addressed.
I found myself returning to the dramatic opening, where full
orchestra seems to spell out “Stra…..n-ger”. Sixteen measures
later it’s time for a change in texture; consequently, frontline
pans descend over a bass pedal, while the middle section
sustains a supporting harmony. Eight measures ensue, and there’s
now a need for more spirited activity (excitement!): A rapid,
rising, chromatic run, played in unison, deliberately excludes
basses. Why? So that the rapid, descending, diatonic run which
follows, will include basses --- thereby providing contrast ---
not only in melodic direction, but in weight as well. Another
key feature is the ‘breakdown’ in the middle of the piece,
introducing dynamic and timbral change, as well as the element
of surprise.
Recording a one-hundred plus piece steel orchestra outdoors,
live, poses a challenge which only the most proficient sound
engineers are prepared to meet. The New York art community
widely acknowledges Trevor John to be among those of his
profession who reside on Mount Olympus. The orchestral balance
which he and the crew capture on the Pantonic Live CD (most
notably Oba’s ‘Picture on my Wall; and In my House), validates
this reputation.
Bradley’s ‘big-band’ voicings and linear interaction required
(especially so on cuts #5 and #6): correct mike placement and
recording levels for each section of the orchestra; EQ which
would enhance the natural sound of the instruments without
distortion; and sensitive, experienced ears. Trevor’s musical
background was certainly an asset in this regard. Main and
secondary lines --- supporting harmonies—driving percussion ---
all are heard in proper perspective.
Through insightful interpretation, Pantonic’s performers
bring the music to life with spirit and elegance. Their
crescendos leading from chorus to verse (and elsewhere), in “In
my House”, evince superb dynamic control. The precision and
clarity with which complex chromatic sequences are executed;
proficiency in changing tone color; alternating between back and
front of the stick; ease in moving from lyrical legato to
detached staccato (the melody of ‘Picture on my Wall’ for
example)-- these skills bespeak countless hours of individual
and group practice. They represent a significant element in the
formula, which renders Pantonic Live a rare treasure.
In today’s world of commercial radio, intelligible musical
substance; creativity; and engineering excellence seem (in many
cases), to have become disqualifying factors for airplay. I
applaud the producers of Pantonic Live in my prediction that
radio exposure will be limited to such aware and discerning
forums as Basement Recordings website and the Trevor Wilkins
show.
AFTERTHOUGHT
I’ve tried to keep technical terms at a minimum, but it seemed
impossible to dispense with them altogether, and yet convey to
the reader some sense of the underlying formal features with
which Clive Bradley invested his work; those same features that
make us dance, shout, or listen attentively.
ADDENDUM
A further look at Ben Lion (for musicians and sane humans
alike): A rising, five-note motive taken from Tanker’s opening,
introduces Ben Lion. First appearing in B minor, it establishes
the mood of the piece. (In due course, this unit is imitated,
transposed, offset contrapuntally, tossed among various sections
of the orchestra, and subtly disguised --- never disappearing,
however, since even when not sounding, its presence is felt).
The first motive is joined by a second --- more lyrical in
character --- also from Tanker’s opening.
Our main theme (Andre Tanker’s chorus, verse, and refrain
melody) is then firmly established in B minor by means of
repetition.
A modulatory transition based on motives from the
introduction is the next salient event. The second (lyrical)
introductory motive is transformed here into an expressive
eight-bar melody in D minor, which contrasts so well with the
main theme, that there is a temptation to hear it as a secondary
theme, which would be developed later. (Clive has different
plans.)
The 4 pans and cellos, amid contrapuntal interplay with
tenors, restate verse, chorus and refrain of the primary theme
in D minor. (At the risk of imposing Sonata Allegro form on Ben
Lion, I’d venture to call the foregoing an Exposition).
A second transition, exploiting a verse figure, moves through
the cycle of fifths to D major. Here we come face to face with
composer Bradley, who seems to be saying “Make no mistake about
it, you’re in the ‘Development’ section at this point.”
All stops are now out. Tanker’s melody is fragmented,
transformed, and placed in curious harmonic and modal settings.
Freshly created material drawing upon Blues, Salsa and Jazz
idioms, reveals the artist’s (Bradley) broad musical experience
and vocabulary. So absorbing is the unfolding, we find ourselves
in G minor without being sure how we got there!
At this juncture one wonders how Bradley will return to the
opening key of B minor after having ventured so far a field.
Well he doesn’t, and we come to realize that it was never his
intention to do so. The two introductory motives are restated
(in G minor instead of B minor; a ‘G’ minor roll ends the piece;
and we are left with images of Clive Bradley smiling, “Gotcha!" |