A master of jazz who has shaped the genre for over half a century, Herbie Hancock’s visit to the Sydney Opera House for Vivid Sydney 2019 was, predictably, something to behold.
With a trio of talent at his back, the 79-year-old took an enamoured crowd on a tour through the jazz of his acclaimed past, and the jazz that we’ll be listening to in years to come. And if you missed it, you should be kicking yourself right now – in the most complicated time signature you can manage.
Herbie’s band were, of course, untouchable
In describing his trio of guitarist Lionel Loueke, bassist James Genus and drummer Vinnie Colaiuta, Herbie expressed both his admiration, and fear. “They’re always on the edge,” he told the crowd, as he teetered on the corner of the stage. “They’re over here.”
And, while he is undoubtedly a master still at the peak of his powers, you can see where he’s coming from when he verbalises just how much of an effort it must be to keep up with these three. His low bow to the floor at the end of the show, reciprocated by his band, said it all.
Genus was perhaps, if this is even possible, the standout; his lips always moving as he wrestled his five-string through solos that sound like a radio being tuned, scraps of melody becoming garbled signals. Or was it Loucke who, with headless axe pulled tight around his neck, amazed and amused as much through his vocoder melodies and vocal percussion as his guitar work? Then again, Colaiuta may have just received the loudest cheers of all of them.
And, while they may all be on the edge, they’re certainly comfortable there – holding it all together with scarcely any communication required. Or maybe it’s all telepathic.
The reverence for Herbie was palpable
There may be no better setting in the country to witness a show like this than a packed Sydney Opera House. And, when Herbie first addressed the crowd, he was met with sheer silence as they hung on his every word.
“This one I recorded back in the seventies,” he explained before his rendition of ‘Actual Proof’, before adding, “the two thousand and seventies.”
“It’s coming up,” he chuckled, along with the crowd. “I’m ahead of my time.”
He was, and still is. From vocoder duets with Loueke, to the moment he first strides across the stage with keytar in hand, Herbie seems a man not just ahead of time, but outside of it. Drawing from past, present and future, his repertoire can’t be pinned to any particular decade between his 1960s beginnings and now – rather, through continual reinvention, Herbie’s is the sound of a century.
Veering from lounge jazz, to funk, to an African space odyssey – hitting touchstones like ‘Chameleon’ and ‘Cantaloupe Island’ along the way – the setlist feels like the score for a retro-futuristic film epic far too costly to ever produce.
The crowd’s reverence was well earned, then. And so in awe of this band were the audience that they seemed almost afraid to be the first to clap at the conclusion of each track. When it did come, though, the applause was thunderous.
That may be the only critique that could be levelled at this gig, though: that the crowd were too respectful, too still. After all, with such incredible rhythms being dished out onstage, how could people stay so very still in their seats? And when Herbie tried some call-and-response with his crowd at the very end, their part whimpered out predictably early.
Perhaps the Sydney Opera House wasn’t the quite ready for that. But if and when Herbie and his band return, they’ll all be clamouring for seats once again, to see three masters – and one insurmountable legend – at work.
