- Believe it or not, jazz music used to be danceable, or at least, people were once more willing to dance to it than they are now. Early to mid-20th century jazz sub-genres almost required dancing, either by virtue of the venue in which the musicians played, or due to a certain compulsion carried by the qualities of the music itself. (Sometimes both.) Somewhere along the line, jazz, to the extent that one can generalize about such a multifarious genre, became something to ponder, rather than something to move to—a genre whose complexities now tend to captivate, rather than animate.
The music of Jaga Jazzist is slightly beyond the realm of being danceable, but what it lacks in that respect, it seemingly makes up for with relentless energy and a paradoxically smooth freneticism not common among nu-jazz artists, or indeed, among comparable artists on the Ninja Tune label. And so one might wonder how this style would jibe with a venue like Seattle's Triple Door, a dimly lit and contemporary restaurant and performance space with a moderately swanky reputation. Crescent-shaped, candle-adorned booths zig-zag down the middle of the main room, while undersized tables, complete with place settings, line the perimeter. This was, in my mind, the perfect representation of a stereotypical upscale jazz club, despite the venue's history of hosting experimental acts from a variety of genres.
Continuing that experimental tradition, Seattle native The Sight Below, AKA Rafael Anton Irisarri, opened with an abbreviated set of purely ambient material. Conversations among the crowd lessened a bit as his performance started, but their collective attention span understandably dwindled as time went on and Irisari's performance failed to bring any fast-tempo excitement. Clearly, the crowd had certain expectations for the evening.
By all indications, Jaga Jazzist either met or exceeded those expectations in a more than two-hour marathon set, which included songs from each album in their discography. Either for reasons of familiarity or otherwise, the songs they performed from their latest album, 2010's One-Armed Bandit, were some of the most exhilarating, with "Tocatta," "Book of Glass," and the title track all being noteworthy highlights. Staying true to form, the entire performance was an exercise in almost effortless skill, enthusiasm and energy, the latter of which was easily matched by the crowd, reaching peak levels once the Norwegians up front engaged in their double-encore.
Drummer and temporary spokesperson, Martin Horntveth, at one point remarked at how the band had expected the evening to be a typical, low-key "jazz night;" instead, they encountered the "loudest sitting audience" they've ever had. In fact, by the time the show had neared its conclusion, more than half of the crowd had ventured away from their tables in order to stand comfortably or gather closer to the stage. No, the music still wasn't quite danceable, but it was unmistakably moving, even if the movement that resulted was entirely uncoordinated.