I first
heard pianist-composer François
Bourassa in the mid-1980s at the Montreal
International Jazz Festival. Back
then, I didn’t like what I heard: a doubled up fist of angry,
aggressive music that stylistically recalled attack dog pugilist
Roberto Duran when he was at his bellicose best. During the intervening
years I made a point of checking him out from time to time, before
happily consigning him to the category of chip on the shoulder
musicians who refuse to grow up and get wise.
And then,
by chance, in 2008, I heard him accompanying an up-and-coming
local club singer, and in a matter of two chords and a trill I
was astounded by the complete reversal of form. Gone was the hammerhead
approach to the keys, replaced by a loving touch in a supporting
role and willingness to share his sensitive side with the world.
He opened the second set with a couple of solo compositions (quasi-classical
ballads) that were absolute gems. And I found myself muttering,
“get a hold of yourself,” there are actually human
beings out there capable of morphing into and embracing their
opposite, which, in the context of an evolving performing artist,
is a development to be feted.
So how
do we account for Bourassa’s “simply marvelous”
metamorphosis?
François
Bourassa is the son of former Québec Premier Robert
Bourassa (1933-1996), who was a political lightning
rod for controversy. François, the son, loved and worshipped
his famous father, who was in equal parts adored and detested
for the contentious decisions he underwrote concerning the highly
volatile relationship between French speaking Québec and
the English. Naturally, as a young boy, he would have lacked the
cognitive maturity to understand why others didn’t feel
as he did. During his formative years, he was constantly exposed
to criticism and even hatred of his divisive father, and what
he believed were lies that stung to the core of his being, as
well as hurtful comments directed to him personally. To protect
himself and his love for his revered father, he was obliged to
grow a thick skin that evolved into an impenetrable carapace,
which provided both comfort and immunity against the abuse and
censure all politicians must abide. As he was discovering and
developing his formidable gifts as a musician, the music, perforce,
reflected not only the kind of person he had become, but the extension
of an ideal self – someone who could not only play through
a punch that has hurt him but counterpoint back. From here on
in, it would take the better part of two decades for François
Bourassa to learn how to become himself instead of his father's
defender.
After
winning the New Talent Prize at the 1985 Montreal International
Jazz Festival, the Trio François Bourassa recorded three
albums. Almost without exception, the music reprises the theme
of lashing out at the world via aggressive, avenging and marauding
compositions that refuse to recognize much less give voice to
his softer side. The Bourassa we encounter in his late 20s is
feeling good about himself in the fortress around his heart, but
unaware that he has condemned himself to the equivalent of an
emotional straight-jacket which severely restricts his range both
as a performer and composer.
Fast
forward twenty years and we encounter a François Bourassa
whose fists are unclenched, for whom the piano is no longer a
lethal weapon but an instrument made to serve the repertoire of
the heart. He is now , along with John Stetch, regarded as one
of Canada’s finest modern jazz composer-pianists.
During
his 2010 Montreal Jazz Festival concert that took place at the
Chapelle historique du Bon-Pasteur, the 2007
recipient of the Oscar Peterson Award decided on
an original playlist that seamlessly integrated classical and
jazz. Some of the pieces were improvisations intended for film,
another section belonged to an oratorio, others personal. What
was signature in them all were the arrestingly original, gunnysack-stitched
chord progressions that, with a nod to Rachmaninoff, drew out
the unparalleled physicality and sumptuousness of sound of the
piano, and at the other extreme, minimalist chords that tingled
like a child’s crib bells. Here was a musician in total
control of his craft, who could give himself completely over to
the development and shaping of his ideas. Listeners under the
spell of the music wouldn’t have been aware or concerned
if it were jazz or classical on the page, so cross thatched were
they.
The jazz
element came to the fore when the pianist found a groove played
by mostly the left but sometimes the right hand, leaving the free
hand free to improvise. Duly noted was the novelty and difficulty
in executing a right hand groove, left hand improv. Most jazz
pianists aren’t technically capable of pulling it off much
less able to conceptually articulate the feeling that compels
the technique. Left hand improvisations, especially in the deep
end, invariably evoke uncertainty, indecision and ambiguity.
And just
as suddenly and purposefully, the groove would morph into a strikingly
original but highly formalized classical sequence where there
is no settling into a delineated space other than that defined
by perpetual invention: think Bach, Mozart. At times, I wasn’t
sure where the work, or a particular section of the work under
consideration was going, but at the end of the day Bourassa left
no doubt that he is a serious and significant composer who has
all the tools (exquisite touch, effortless right hand left hand
independence) to satisfy the most complex demands of a quick and
fertile imagination.
Since
both classical and jazz enthusiasts are fiercely devoted to their
preferred genre, Bourassa’s most pressing challenge is to
fashion appreciative audiences equal to the demands of his distinctly
original classical-jazz fusion. At the behest of an irrepressibly
creative musical mind, Bourassa has dared to go where the less
madly inspired have feared to tread. In consideration of the inevitable
lag between listeners and any brave new musical form, the composer
might consider staying with his exquisitely gorgeous and architecturally
more accessible shorter pieces that will allow audiences to ease
their way into the interval and invention that is François
Bourassa.
Photos
© Denis
Beaumont
