Pilz, Reis, Dahm, Martiny – Mayhem

You UK/US people, know what “Mayhem” means, and Luxos aren’t known for making a mess, on stage or off, and the main thing is elsewhere and their tailors are rich.

Everyone knows that, especially the Mosel-lents who come to fill up (without much moderation) with petrol, alcohol and tobacco at the border.

Ah, the borders! They don’t exist anymore, and that’s just fine all over Europe. The ex-customs officers have a field day and occasionally catch a dealer with illegal substances in his trunk, but I don’t know why I’m telling you this: personally, I buy my tobacco 3 X cheaper than from the Frenchies in Kehl (on the right bank of the Rhine), as my two eldest daughters and their innumerable offspring are staying in Strassburg, where I visit them every 2 or 3 months.

But really, I don’t know why I’m telling you all this either, and letting you into my little world of my private intimacy. Anyway, let’s talk moozik, since that’s why couleursjazz.fr pays me in cash and on rue Bissurlongle (in the X°, near the New Morninge).

So Luxos are, my dear Goofy, rich, disciplined et Chet erra. To create the joyous, free-sounding mess that they call “Mayem“, I think they were inspired by Frank Zappa, who says in his “Freak Out“, and I quote from my aging memory: “FZ is the boss and guitarist of the Mothers of Invention, sometimes he gets on stage, sometimes he plays the guitar, sometimes he talks into the mike… sometimes there’s trouble.

” End of cit’ not in Sion because you know as well as I do what’s going on in Gaza and South Lebanon.

Anyway, once again and to make it short, 4 Luxembourgers of various generations have formed a quartet with no bass, nor double nor electric (who do they think they are, these guys?) and they’re sending out the free-sounding mashed potato, starting with a thundering drum kit (there are 2 of them) that would make Zeus, the ancient Greek god, seem pale and make him look like a little burnt-out demiurge with his thunder and his éclairs (French for lightning but also a pastry) not even with chocolate filling.

In this quartet, the veteran is the late Michel Pilz, who a quarter of an hour before his death was still alive (and therefore a fortiori the same onstage before deciding to pass away). Pilz was one of the few European musicians who played ONLY bass clarinet, and even when the dogs were barking, his bcl went on without a care for the surrounding noise.

Pilz was a goddamn killer, sometimes furious, sometimes cool as hell, but as usual, hardly anyone in our narrow-minded, xenophobic Hexagone knew/knows it.

To take charge of the harmony (and not only), the three old-timers have chosen Michel Reis, a young first-in-class who those who know him in a p/b/dm trio setting probably won’t recognize, so much so that, in places, he rips low (or high) on his 88 keys.

The rest of the time, he’s as wise as a Zen master, and the beautiful chords and arpeggios flow from his fingers like rivers not in flood.

One of the two drummers (Pit Dahm) doubles up on sax on a track from his pen, because he knows how to do it and he’s worth it (as they say at L’Oréal).

Finally, the second drummer (Benoît Martiny), who does nothing else (you lazy bastard!), competes with his neighbor and colleague in terms of ruckus or tender percussion.

All in all, this CD, recorded live in Dudelange, in the sub-capital of jâââze in the Grand Duchy of Luxe in Bourgade, is one more white stone in the career of the four aforementioned musicians, a little jewel in the discotheque of every enlightened jazz lover (yes, you Gisèle, you Helmut, and even little Momo hiding behind the hood of his The North Face fleece vest).

So acoustic it on the platforms and then run out and buy it (or steal it, it’s none of my business — onions, in French slang — nor Sydney Bechet’s) before it’s out of stock(hausen?). Come on, Jeeeezzz! You should already be back with your bloody rucksack full to bursting with discs to give to your nearest and dearest and toot y quanti.