William Hooker beats the heat

"So it this music blues or jazz?"

A 50-something fella asked me that last Monday at the Thunderbird, pointing at the albums that William Hooker was setting up on his merchandise table. The real answer to that question is, "Neither." So I was naturally hesitant to say "jazz" since "It's free improv," is the more sensible answer. Plus I was worried that Hooker might actually hear this exchange and go off on how his music isn't jazz.

I forget exactly what I said, but this guy said he asked because he thought it might be blues and that Hooker might be John Lee Hooker's son. Hmm, I wondered. Is that because his name is Hooker and he's black? Are you that naive? A few minutes later, I was sitting out on the stoop waiting for a phone call and the guy came out again and repeated what he told me inside. This time I used the phrase "free improv" and he said, "What's that?" I should've said "Noise," but I didn't want to have the guy decide to leave and I still didn't feel like being blunt.

When I went back in, Matta Gawa, the opening band, was tearing it up. I mean tearing. Drummer Sam Lohman was crashing and exploding all over his kit. Next to him Ed Ricart was triggering some bass-like loops and tearing it up over top of them. It got to a point where the effects were getting as much attention and tweaking as his fretboard, but his playing still had a strong basis in melody, as fragmented and wild as it might have been. In other words, he was not just noodling and skronking for his own personal satisfaction. One tune - all were improvisations - had the same feel as one of the ballads on the Sonny Sharrock Ask the Ages album: it combined delicate melodic work with a smouldering undercurrent.

I had hoped that William Hooker might be playing with Sabir Mateen since their interaction on the drummer's latest album was so great. But that kind of double-bill (at least it is for us Pittsburghers) was not going to happen for a $12 cover. Not only did Hooker not bring Mateen, he didn't bring anyone with him. He played solo.

Some people walked out before his 40-minute set was completed (the heat of the room didn't make it any easier) but I found the whole thing pretty captivating. Plus Hooker has such a command of his kit. His presence made me stop and play close attention, waiting to see where he would take things. He rolled on his cymbals for a good five minutes at the beginning before he finally moved to his drums. When he did, he pulled some great low pitches out of his floor tom. The way he played made the whole thing feel like a musical statement too, not just some tinkering on the trap kit.

Hooker was set up slightly towards stage left so the main focus was the screen behind him. It projected a computer program throughout the whole set, beginning with rather typical "objects on a desert landscape" kind of scene. As it continued, though, this got a little more detailed and beyond the ordinary, much like the set. It was hard to tell if he was playing "along with" the images or the synchronization was just coincidental.

The whole thing last the perfect length for me - about 40 minutes, and including some brief bits of spoken word text at certain points. They all seemed to riff on the first installment: "Feel the heat of the third rail. Don't touch!" Some of it was clearly too much for folks in the audience, including the gent I might at the beginning of the night. To his credit, he checked out most of Matta Gawa and sat through a bit of Hooker's set, but didn't make it to the end. I stayed for the duration, but once I said my goodbyes, I too tried to cool off and get away from the hot room.

I thought Aram Shelton was coming this Monday, but it turns it, his show is a week later. That's not necessarily bad news, but I was hoping to see him sooner. Boooooooooooooooo!