by John MacCalkies
Amsterdam has been increasingly associated with ebullient music that stems from Holland's tradition of brass heavy harmonie and fanfare. This sanguine style, according to Willem Breuker, has little to do with the indigenous Dutch psyche: "We have no folk music, we're a land of wooden shoes and tulips...a Calvinistic, fairly stiff country" he asserts.
Breuker, who's Kollektief (celebrating its twenty-fifth anniversary) is one of the more subversive, comedic groups to grace a bandstand, refutes the integral humor as a national characteristic. Perhaps he is personally responsible for the tide of irreverence and iconoclasm that has made Han Bennink, Ernst Reijseger and Misha Mengelberg the Netherlands' chief improvised music exports. Of course pianist Mengelberg (originally from the Ukraine), who appeared at the Empty Bottle a week ago with Bennink, precedes Breuker. Mengelberg's telling association was with the experimental art/theater movement Fluxus in the early sixties, and it was he who recognized Breuker's talent early, voting for him at a jazz competition when the young saxophonist was playing a personalized style not popular with the other judges.
"We [Breuker, Mengelberg and Bennink] found our thing at about the same time," claims Breuker. The three formed the Instant Composer's Pool in 1967, though Breuker eventually pulled out to pursue diverse projects that didn't fit the ICP. Though relations cooled for a while between the three, being such a trident of talent in Holland, they have inevitably worked together since. "Of course we need each other, though it works best when I'm in duo with Misha or Han. With the three of us it's too much competition."
Breuker's eclectic curiosity knows few bounds, and the eleven-piece Kollektief has been the preferred palette for color mixing his myriad compositions, many of which, in Ellingtonian fashion, were cyclically inspired by the versatile personnel of the group. He points out that the WBK's longevity (it still features five original members), has been the result of socialist ethics and the institution of certain ground rules.
"There is no hierarchy, no stars. Everybody earns the same and has equal say in how band money is spent. I am 54 but the newest, youngest member [trombonist Nico Nijholt, age 31] gets paid the same I do."
In true co-op spirit, each musician also has a specific task. Violinist Lorre Lynn Trytten for instance (originally from Wisconsin) is the "beer manager," as well as being responsible for setting up the stage microphones, etc. "She is a good composer, a fantastic arranger and a beautiful lady, what more could you ask for?" The other American in the Kollektief is saxophonist and virtuoso flautist Alex Coke, who shipped his family to Holland from Texas when he joined. Though the WBK is an intense gig, with a heavy global touring schedule, its leader emphasizes that members do not treat each other as surrogate family.
"We travel on our own forty seater bus, but I always stipulate that when we stay at hotels each musician has his own room. Many promoters want you to share, but one of the reasons we may have survived so long as a unit is that I stress that you must have at least eight hours of the day to yourself."
They have a ball on the bandstand, but off road, members of the Kollektief rarely socialize together. Any other success secret of the group Breuker does not care to know, in case over-analysis becomes a jinx.
Breuker has never been one to look back, his prolific output reveals distaste for fastidiousness and procrastination. This philosophy inspired BVHaast, Breuker's record label which he created to keep pace with his ambitions. A "BV" is a bureaucratic form, a license attained to render something official, and since Breuker has little interest in soliciting establishment sanction, he added Haast -- "hasten, don't delay."
His boundary-smashing quirkiness conflates Kurt Weill, Ennio Morricone, a Philip Glass minimalism parody, Prokofiev and mock/serious free improv in the same set, a nonpareil precedent which has nonetheless invited comparisons with John Zorn, Carla Bley or Frank Zappa. Breuker acknowledges similarity with Bley, who confesses to learning much from the Dutchman's methods, but misses the Zappa tag. "I never saw the connection there."
One element the Kollektief lacks is electric guitar. "Anything that required a PA system or such equipment didn't seem to fit the spontaneity of the band. Often we would play street concerts, or in factories, and would be in and out in five minutes, so acoustic instruments worked best. But if a guitarist turned up and convinced us he was needed we'd take him, it has just never happened yet, and I don't hold auditions."
The Kollektief's US tour follows a wealth of disparate activity for Breuker, including a trip to Istanbul, one day prior to the recent earthquake; a performance of his Psalm 22 dedicated to Jerusalem; work on two film scores (one about post-WWII Indonesian president Soekarno, the other a tribute to homosexual activist Benno Premsela). This Chicago visit immediately follows a silver jubilee celebration for the WBK at Amsterdam City Hall, but there's no telling what will be on the agenda for the Hothouse gigs. "We'll sketch out the set just before the concert, then use audience reaction as a guide," says Breuker "That's how we operate."
copyright 1999 New City Communications, Inc.