Colin Stetson

I'd been looking forward to the chance to see Colin Stetson play live ever since first being introduced to his music by a friend at work. As a saxophonist myself, I was both intrigued to see a bass saxophone being played (they are very unusual) and keen to hear this master of circular breathing and multiphonics perform in person. Other friends who've seen Mr Stetson play live told me of the incredible physicality of his concerts. But that you really had to experience it yourself: hearing his albums or watching some of the YouTube videos doesn't fully convey it. And so I found myself in the beautiful interior space of St John in Bethnal Green. This is a working church that has a full evening programme of contemporary music events. Sitting on a church pew in atmospheric lighting I prepared myself for some saxophonic devotion. Mr Stetson followed the able but sadly rather brief support given by Shabaka Hutchings' band -- oh for Shabaka's smoky, sensual bass clarinet! He can play that thing at my place any time. Alone at the front of the nave (or is it a chancel? My knowledge of ecclesiatical architecture is limited) Mr Stetson, accompanied by the giant bass and the more manageable alto, prepared to envelope us in sound. But before he played, he donned the throat and chest microphone rig that allows us to hear his own vocal accompaniment. I don't recall specific names of songs. I don't think I was really taking in any of the words he spoke in the brief, recuperative pauses taken during his performance. My head was somewhere in the St John rafters, still processing, still shaken, coming to terms with what I'd just experienced. So, to the experience: what Colin Stetson produces from these instruments is almost beyond comprension (and I've been playing myself for a good while!). It is a thick, complex layering of pedal note fundamentals with a continual motion of upper harmonics, punctuated with shrieks, squarks, key rattles, tongue slaps. Layered above and throughout, the accompanied vocalisation: growls, humming, singing without words. The music arrives in waves, and continues for a period beyond what seems physically possible. He truly is a master of circular breathing. Some kind of acoustical magic takes place where the voice interacts with the sound of the horn - split and relayered with new components, a sum much greater than its parts. As he plays, Mr Stetson seems to me as a small boat at sea, buffeted by the storms, alone at night. He rocks to and fro, cradling the instrument, clinging to it as if a lifeline to the next point where he might draw a full breath. The closest reference point I have for Colin Stetson's music is the British player Evan Parker. What they both achieve is a minimalism in its busiest form - a slowly changing tapestry of sound and intent. My friends were right: this was an intensely physical experience. You have to be there in person to understand.

If you've never seen Colin Stetson play live, it's difficult to put into words the physicality and intensity of his performance. Even if you've heard one of his New History of Warfare recordings (used powerfully in the appalling lynching scene in the film '12 Years A Slave'), you won't be prepared for the experience of seeing the effort required to produce that assault of sound.

No stranger to playing live (he's toured extensively with Bon Iver, among others), Colin Stetson's own solo performances are a staggering feat of concentration, ferocity, and strength. He plays the bass and alto saxophones, with a handful of electronics for recording and looping. Most of his material begins with repetitive motifs, combining his circular breathing technique with the instrument's natural harmonics, overtones, and key slaps to weave a dazzling spell of virtuosity and rich texture. Throughout his performance you'll wonder how one man can summon the energy required. His veins are popping from his neck and forehead, sweat glistening on his brow, the muscles in his forearms rippling in time with the unstoppable babble of notes coming out of the horn, as he rocks to and fro, shifting his weight from one foot to the other – all the while dwarfed by the enormous instrument that seems to be swallowing him into itself.

Perhaps most poignant of all are his vocal projections over the instrument's sounds – he wears a microphone round his neck, next to his throat. Ranging from husky whispers and falsetto melodies to anguished roaring, the effect is both desperate and compelling. If he plays "Fear of the Unknown and The Blazing Sun" then you're in for a real treat. Beginning with a sound like some huge piece of industrial machinery starting up (and without the distraction of spoken/sung words from the album recording), he starts to pick a melody out of the upper register of overtones, then introducing a plaintive wail of dissonant melody, as if the machine is crying its agony at being forced into motion. By the time he finished I was unashamedly weeping.

Not for the faint-hearted: expect to have your emotions pounded, be drawn into the intensity of his playing, and finally leave feeling astonished at what you've witnessed. But if you're willing, you'll be rewarded with one of the most unforgettable and beautiful musical experiences of your life.

Superhuman talent. Two words that sum up the genius of Colin Stetson. The only other time I had seen him live was with Bon Iver, but when I saw he was doing a string of solo dates, I was curious about what he had to offer.

When one thinks about saxophone music, images of Kenny G are usually the first things to come to mind. But Colin Stetson is a man with a talent that I can only describe as game-changing.

Two saxes, a alto and the rather hefty bass are the lone instruments on stage. Colin walked out and was graced by a single spotlight. He started off with a track called "Among The Sef" off his latest album, "New History Warfare Volume 3: To See More Light". Stetson practices a technique called circular breathing, in which he's able to create a stream of endless notes. This technique makes the music absolutely seamless. Coupled with using the sound of his fingers hitting the keys, and growling and barking through the instrument to create these howling noises, it's a transcendent experience. It’s hard to classify Colin’s music, but I can honestly say his approach to playing saxophone is completely avant-garde.

Other highlights of his live show are appearances from his Arcade Fire band mate, Sarah Neufeld on violin. As an added bonus, I had the pleasure of attending a special performance, where his sister, opera singer Megan Stetson, as well as a host of other musicians, and the Brooklyn Youth Chorus filling in for Justin Vernon on vocals joined Colin.

I found myself completely drawn into the music, almost forgetting where I was. The songs were extremely powerful and moving, and I happened to be almost on the verge of tears a number of times.

Colin's performance is nothing short of extraordinary and something everyone needs to bear witness to.

The Hackney Arts Centre is an amazing venue, with a very good atmosphere and seemingly an excellent team of staff. The lighting was very well matched to the intensity of Colin's outstanding performance. I was very pleased to finally see lighting being used with sensitivity rather than using every effect possible. The stripped back stage and lighting really focused everyones attention and created a heightened stillness in the room. I would 100% go to this venue again and 100% go to see Colin Stetson again. One of the best gigs I have ever been to. Support acts were great too :)

Seeing Colin Stetson playing live is quite an intense experience that puts one at the edge of one's seat. Brutal at times and always very forceful, his pieces (which he funnily enough describes as songs..) are nevertheless quite abstract, lending them an atmosphere of a hectic movie soundtrack at times.)
Though the concert was short, it was well worth the long ride from Berlin to Dresden and i'd be happy to see him playing again in the future.