Imagine this: a packed London nightclub in the year 2002, full of people who are into all the urban cool that the Ninjatune label purveys, cheering a drum solo. A jazz drum solo. A jazz drum solo only a few minutes into the gig. With that, plus the deep red curtains and the opium-den lanterns, you would have thought you had wandered into the 1960s.
Cinematic Orchestra are not afraid of jazz. Jason Swinscoe, the band's leader, is a man at home with samplers, decks and electronics. But he has gradually come out from behind his gear to speak the musical language of other instrumental players. The result is indeed cinematic. It is a static, hypnotic jazz rather than racing chord changes - mantric grooves, thick and dark, cut through with turntable playing and samples of harps, thumb pianos and extra sax lines to help the lone wind player.
You could hear why the combination works so well just by listening to saxophonist Tom Chant (an experienced free improviser) and turntable player Patrick Carpenter. On a couple of occasions the pair were left to improvise together. They leant into each other's sound, determined to find a common voice. Carpenter used the tables as an instrument, scratching and quacking as the pair raced up to climaxes.
Drummer Luke Flowers's lithe playing, along with P J France on bass, held the family together through one or two rocky patches. France plays long, yawning notes - bridges to get from bar to bar, peppered with lots of Dirty Harry-style keyboard from John Ellis. Occasionally, when the band were in full flow, Chant felt a little isolated, his sharp tone having to fight through - it's a lot to ask of one player.
The woman everyone was waiting for was Fontella Bass. She had a hit with Rescue Me, but it was her part in Thème de Yoyo, from the soundtrack to the 1970 movie Les Stances de Sophie, that attracted Swinscoe. Her voice has not diminished, and her first few notes made plenty of knees go weak - not least the band's. Bass eyed the microphone with contempt. She barely seemed to need it - even when she was just humming. Her tunes were made longer for this live set, which meant some riffing around and trading phrases with the other singer, Niara. It would have been nice to hear her have some more big moments.
The Man With the Movie Camera showed the band at its best - a clanking dungeon march that sets itself free and takes giant steps into the light. Then Bass returned for an encore of Thème de Yoyo, with its bizarre erotic lyrics (I could swear there was a mention of camembert in there) and exhilarating lurches between funk and chaos. Chant finally took off. It was wide-screen entertainment.
