The jazz pianist Tom Cawley is responsible for one of the greatest gigs I’ve ever been to in my life. I’m thinking back to what feels like pre-history, when Croydon – my patch – not only had a music venue tucked discreetly inside its town hall, but hosted an annual jazz festival. If my reckoning is correct, I’m rewinding to about 15 years ago, when Cawley’s trio Curios played two entire sets – probably the lion’s share of what they’d released at that point – to a rapt audience.

The interplay between the musicians was as telepathic as you could hope for, conveying a real sense of joy and excitement as well as focus and intensity. I remember being struck by Cawley’s highly individual melodic gift: great tunes, for sure, but also a distinctive quality to his improvisations that made the unexpected and unpredictable feel perfectly natural and expressive.

Since then, I’ve tried to keep track of Cawley’s activities, but haven’t seen him perform nearly as often as I’d have liked. Restlessly creative, he has collaborated widely, and featured in a number of bands as leader or sideman. It’s been especially thrilling to see him establish a working relationship with Peter Gabriel: first on Gabriel’s orchestral tour, then more recently on ‘Playing for Time’, one of the finest tracks on the ‘i/o’ album.

However, Cawley’s latest project is a solo venture for piano and electronics. While the material has been in the works for a while – including the occasional brief sighting in the wild – in mid-June the Vortex hosted his first full-length concert in this format. I feel very fortunate to have witnessed this in such an intimate space: it was a remarkable evening.

Visually, the initial impression is startling. You could be forgiven for thinking, in the first few seconds at least, that the piano is enduring a kind of Cronenbergian body-horror experiment, with an array of gadgetry, switches and wires occupying the music shelf. But on closer inspection, the Frankensteinway is actually rather streamlined, with one main machine at the heart of the endeavour: a multi-purpose marvel called the Octatrack. It can provide Cawley with extra, pre-programmed sounds, should he need them: such as an occasional drum track.

But as Cawley explained during the performance, most of the time he is sampling himself playing live. Those beats aside, every sound we hear through the on-stage speakers comes directly from the piano, but processed, altered, looped or rearranged depending on how Cawley has programmed, and then chooses to manipulate, the Octatrack controls. What comes out depends on what goes in.

What we hear is an exciting synthesis of acoustic and electronic sound. While the piano itself remains the lead instrument, steering us through the mix, Cawley simultaneously generates settings ranging from shimmering warmth to techno clatter. With both hands darting between keyboard and circuit-board, it can appear like the pianist is playing a game of musical chess with himself – but if he is, he’s winning. Cawley’s mastery of the machinery is such that every sonic development sounds as if it belongs. 

Across the two sets, Cawley mixed three broad types of piece: full improvisation; his own through-composed work; and some jazz standards given the Octatrack treatment. Belying his modest, self-effacing conversation with the audience, joking about making the odd mistake or nearly losing control of a piece, Cawley sounds fiercely confident in action, and with good reason. 

Making the bold but genius move to open with a free improvisation, we accompanied man and machines on a magical mystery tour lasting ten minutes or more. In that time, Cawley established two key elements of the gig in one go. We became (re-)acquainted with his flair for surprise, his ability to make the angular or unexpected feel like an emotionally true, ready-made tune. And we were shown the range of what the Octatrack could do, opening up limitless possibilities for the rest of the evening.

Electronica can often signify patterns and motifs, regularity, repetition, control. This project is a shining example of harnessing that power to more open ends. While I sincerely hope Cawley documents some of this material in a studio recording of some sort, experiencing it live is a revelation: it’s quite something to watch Cawley ‘playing’ the Octatrack almost as a jazz instrument alongside the piano, his fingers seeming to form ‘chords’ across the dials and switches to set off some combination of effects.

Please head to Tom Cawley’s YouTube channel to find other Octatrack footage alongside some highlights from this concert – and see him live should you ever get the chance. If a full release of this material emerges, you can be sure to read about it here.

AA

(Gig snapshots by AA.)