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Jakob Mrozewski | The Phoenix

In a quiet moment, Hans Lüdemann gathers his thoughts before playing the piano.

Jakob Mrozewski | The Phoenix

Trio Ivoire unleashes a creative and original performance based on collaboration.

BY MAKI SOMOSOT

In print | Published November 5, 2009

As the spotlights in the Lang Concert Hall dimmed, a hushed silence rapidly diffused through the waiting crowd. The stage was set with everything in its rightful place: a gleaming grand piano on the right, an unassuming set of drums on the left, and in between an exotic object stood proud, demanding attention.

It was a curious wooden instrument, much like an earthy version of a xylophone, with ball-shaped gourds buttressing each key. This was the “balaphon.” Rich in history, it is the instrumental backbone of the musical storytelling tradition in West Africa. For centuries, the balaphon accompanied poet-singers, the “griots,” as they wandered from village to village, telling stories, satires and gossip and singing songs of old.

But for Trio Ivoire, the exceptional balaphon was simply part of the musical norm. It was just another cog in the wheel of the electrifying three-person ensemble that unequivocally brought down the house at Lang Concert Hall last Friday night.

Altogether hailing from Germany, Cote d’Ivoire, India and Holland, Trio Ivoire transcends musical, cultural and geographical boundaries with natural flair and ease.

“[Trio Ivoire] is a very fresh, inventive and very together group [with] nice accessible music,” French lecturer Carole Netter said.

Sharing an affinity for improvisation, jazz is the Trio’s musical playground. “It is the biggest treat to invent music for fun,” Hans Lüdemann, founder of Trio Ivoire, said. “[With jazz] we can play our own ideas, and we have the freedom to make our own musical decisions. You are liberated by music.”

The three band members are each representatives of a unique worldview of music. Pianist and composer Lüdemann feels just as at home with traditional African music as he does with European musical classicism and the American jazz tradition. Aly Keita, a contemporary “griot” from Cote d’Ivoire, plays the African instruments balaphon and sanza in the traditional story-telling style, with subtle overtones of modern jazz. Drummer Chander Sardjoe is of Indian (Surinamese) and Dutch origin; he connects and contrasts Lüdemann’s piano and Keita’s balaphon with grounded, percussive beats. Together, the three musicians of Trio Ivoire create an unconventional, yet cosmopolitan sound that unites seemingly disparate musical traditions and cultures.

“[Trio Ivoire] could be a model of today’s reality … the musical image and face of globalization,” Lüdemann added.

“There is a broad horizon in our music. It’s about opening up completely, and not following traditions or clichés.”
Lang Concert Hall was packed with a sizeable turn-out, a pleasantly surprising balance between adults and college students. When Trio Ivoire finally burst through the doors, they were met with a near-deafening roar of applause and whistles from the crowd.

Heading the night’s line-up was “Turning Points,” Trio Ivoire’s first ever collaborative piece. Musically it is a sad, slow burn that lingers after the first listen, built around a repeated insistent beat that alludes to something impalpably greater beyond the song, but never quite makes it there. The song broke right through my post-midterm mania and calmed my worried self down. It was a kind of magical relief for academic neuroses.

For Trio Ivoire, the secret is instrumental and musical synchronization while delivering unexpected bouts of passion in between syncopated beats. “I think my relationship with music can best be characterized as a love affair,” Lüdemann said. “It was love at first sight.” Or, in this case, sound.

With eyes closed, Lüdemann played the melancholy opening notes of “Turning Points” on the grand piano. His face held an impassioned expression. and his eyes surveyed the crowd with a kind of ritualistic appreciation. At frequent intervals, he would sit or stand up from his chair, apparently carried away by the intensity of his playing.

Sardjoe handled his drums like a beloved car, harnessing them in their full structural drivability. He tapped the metal horns and caressed the hi-hat, and just as skillfully, he banged on the drums with all his might during his intense, epic solos. For the most part, Keita treated his balaphon like an old friend. At some points though, it started bouncing precariously from his vibrant delivery.

While playing, the band was careful to sustain a basic and comprehensible musical structure despite all their wild improvisational jaunts, so as not to alienate the audience. Of course, it helped that the band members were enjoying themselves. Keita kept grinning mischievously while Lüdemann and Sardjoe reciprocated with sly smiles of their own as if sharing a little-known secret. So when the bright, fast beats finally exploded from the stage, I was caught off guard but not completely surprised. The music drove towards a dynamic, grandiose crescendo that was reminiscent of joyful African dances. These guys were a riot.

“They obviously enjoy being together,” Adriana Popa ’12, a classical music enthusiast, said. “It is easy to see that their creative force derives not only from a love of music, but also from a love of each other as contributors to a unique artistic process.”

Skilled performers as they are, Lüdemann, Keita and Sardjoe modulated their playing styles to complement each other’s — sharing the spotlight equally between all three. It is a respectful musical collaboration.

“[They had] great emotional tension for a long concert,” Netter said. Trio Ivoire had obviously mastered the balance between exercising musical restraint and power. They also showcased an original musical oeuvre that defied easy categorization on Friday night. “The virtual piano” was Lüdemann’s flirtation with experimental piano, creating discordant sounds by tweaking the piano strings. Pieces such as “Himizo” and “Ha-Iri” sounded playful and childlike; Keita’s balaphon and sanza’s gentle, twinkling tones reminded me of lullabies. These were always uplifting and offered much-needed levity after Trio Ivoire’s often dizzying musical climaxes.

“When you sleep good, you have no problems,” a smiling Keita told the audience. “When you have no problems, you sleep good.”

Then it suddenly hit me that I had been listening to jazz on an empty stomach which had been rumbling, without fail, for the past two hours. But I felt replete.

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