Imagine the stilt-legged elephants of Salvadore Dali's dreamtopias. Masts of cobwebs dress their legs as they slowly march through the dead of night. A funeral procession. Led by a dark eyed minstrel, hair on his skull, flickering in and out of the moonlight. The steam of the sleeping swamp colors the air. Fireflies and sphinx moths flurry about like children playing in a graveyard. This is the world I see when Leather and Lacy begins with a song called "Prayer".
If you want to talk about people who exhibit real virtuosity, be sure to mention Greg Malcolm, an apparent octopoidal man from New Zealand. Playing three guitars at once is a romantic dream for most of us who enjoy playing just one. If you gave it a try, you probably wouldn't take it very far. Good for a party trick, you'd say. Maybe you bust it out one Thursday night at the local vegan restaurant's open mic, admired for your bravery, but not your style. You wouldn't write post-apocalyptic aboriginal tales. No one would! Oh wait, someone did. He is Greg Malcolm. Formerly a champion of the Appalachian guitar playing styles a la John Fahey, Malcolm has reached well beyond music we're used to hearing.
Leather and Lacy is taken from a live performance at the 2006 Wellington Jazz Festival. The songs Malcolm plays here are by jazz legend Steve Lacy, the first widely recognized "master" of the soprano saxophone. Knowing this upon listening, I matter of factly said, "Huh," because this stuff sounds way more folky than jazzy. The songs are very hypnotic and full of messages, looking and sounding like smoke signals in an underwater western. In fact, the mantras and stories Mr. Malcolm tells are jaw-droppingly good, especially when combined with the awareness that he is actually playing three guitars simultaneously. You are not reading that incorrectly. One with his hands, the other two down at his feet. No, he is not left-handed, so I guess I'm not all that impressed (kidding). He sounds like what a drummer would sound like if instead of drums, he could play melodies, rhythm and atmosphere. He doesn't even use effects. These are amazing stories woven by one man!
During the performances you can sometimes hear people speaking, which gives this album that special sitting-around-the-campfire feeling. The immediacy of it all is very real. There's even a moment as Malcolm winds down a song with echo tube-like explosions (perhaps from kicking a guitar around the floor) where people can be heard laughing. I am really wondering what Greg Malcolm was up to in this isolated mad scientist moment to get the wholesome laughter. He must be captivating to watch. Anyone who sounds this intense while still exhibiting the capacity to insight a hearty gut laugh gets my attention.
The guitar sounds Malcolm creates are as varied as an ecosystem. For being a bit on the strange side of things, the music is refreshingly relaxing, much like watching a fire. The songs on Leather and Lacy are much in the style of Malcolm's album Hung on Campbell Kneale's (of Birchville Cat Motel fame) Celebrate Psi Phenomenon label. For someone to appreciate jazz and express that appreciation in this way astounds me. I've never heard jazz that sounded like this. I've never arrived at an understanding that remotely resembles what Greg Malcolm has done with these songs. They've become dirges for a distant future, when our civilization has transformed into something simpler. Percussive dialings, shimmery scrapings, clean melodies, musty desert wind. It's all so strange and wonderful, emotional and timeless. This is wise and magical stuff. Pull up a log and lean in.
-Nayt Keane