Breaking the brass ceiling

Long underrated as a jazz instrument, the tuba has come back into favour in recent years sparked by a brass-band revival in New Orleans and the innovative approaches of master musicians like Jose Davila, Oren Marshall and Jon Sass. Leading this new generation is Theon Cross, the London-based musician and composer perhaps best known as a member of the now-disbanded Sons Of Kemet, whose radical fusion of African-Caribbean music, grime and jazz shook Edinburgh

International Festival to its foundations last year. In that group, Cross held down the bottom end with aplomb, but he also stepped forward to take solos, unleashing earthquaking borborygmi (that’s rumblings, folks) and wild leaps into the instrument’s upper register.

‘In those moments, [Sons Of Kemet leader] Shabaka [Hutchings] would say, “I want you to play by yourself to introduce the next song; just do whatever you can do”,’ Cross recalls. ‘It gave me the opportunity to try lots of different ways of playing, that freedom to really find my own voice and develop a sound.’ All through his time in Sons Of Kemet, Cross formed his own style, touring with grime artists such as Kano and composing music for his trio with saxophonist Nubya Garcia and drummer Moses Boyd. The latter two were key players on his debut album Fyah, released to widespread acclaim in 2019.

An organic fusion of African-Caribbean diasporic styles, the album is a key document of the new London jazz scene. ‘In my parents’ house, there was reggae and soca, music from the Caribbean,’ Cross explains, ‘but also, hip hop was a massive thing; grime was a big thing.’

A graduate of Tomorrow’s Warriors, the community music organisation that has been vital to London’s jazz renaissance, Cross went on to jam sessions at Ronnie Scott’s Jazz Club and the Steam Down nights. ‘I was fortunate enough to find myself experiencing a lot of different sides of the London jazz experience, which I think is pretty varied. So when it came time to make a musical statement, it was an amalgamation of my life experience and the things that I had the opportunity to do and take from.’

He followed the largely acoustic Fyah with 2021’s Intra-I, a solo album recorded with drummer-producer

Emre Ramazanoglu and a stellar line-up of guest vocalists. Drawing on reggae, dub, dancehall, soca, hip hop and grime, the album sees Cross processing and layering his tuba to create a range of timbres and textures. At times, the tuba can sound like a dub bassline or a grime synth; at others, it’s a tuba choir. ‘Sometimes I’d watch college marching bands where you had a tuba section that plays a tune. That was great. When the tuba harmonises with itself, it’s a world within itself. I really wanted to explore that as an album, and when lockdown came it gave me a bit more time to really focus on that, going into the tuba and exploring the different sounds and production. If you can utilise these things, you can make some great art.’

Intra-I also has a strong message, with the guest vocalists raising consciousness about African-Caribbean history and culture. ‘Conceptually, I feel like I was in a period where I was learning more about myself and what I wanted to say. I wanted people that could speak to the themes I was presenting, which for the most part was introspection; also knowing about your lineage and your history.’ The album is dedicated to Cross’ late father, Errol, a musician active in the 1980s British reggae scene.

Cross paid homage to that era last year, with a cover of Aswad’s ‘Back To Africa’, the B-side to his single ‘Wings’, a banger recorded with his live band. ‘I really thought I should get this down in the studio because there’s a certain energy to it that I really like.’ This is the group he’ll be playing with in Edinburgh, with Nikos Ziarkas on guitar, Patrick Boyle on drums, Chelsea Carmichael on saxophone, and Nathaniel Cross on trombone. ‘Expect some explorations of music from the last few albums,’ he teases. ‘I feel that stepping into a live show is more of a wall of sound.’

Theon Cross, George Square Spiegeltent, 18 July, 8.30pm.

Hoping their upcoming show will birth a third memorable experience, Megan Merino recalls her previous live encounters with explosive collective Nubiyan Twist

In my brain, Nubiyan Twist and emotional euphoria are inextricably linked. The first time I saw the collective play at Glasgow’s Hug And Pint in 2019, I had just clocked off from a stressful week of work experience at a daily newspaper. Inside an already sweaty basement, my body still processing the adrenaline secreted from trying to survive at the bottom of a newsroom food chain, Tom Excell and his band crammed onto a tiny stage, tripping over multiple saxophonists and percussive instruments en route. With everyone gathered around drummer Pilo Adami, who was uncharacteristically on lead vocals this particular evening, the show began.

Whether due to relief of having survived my first proper journalism shifts or the cosiness of dancing shoulder to shoulder with fellow fans, Adami’s memorable rendition of ‘Straight Lines’ in his native Portuguese caused all tensions of the past week to leave my body.

Some time later, on the home stretch of covid regulations and a good year since I had seen any form of live music, finally one (albeit socially distanced) gig was going ahead: Nubiyan Twist’s Freedom Fables album launch at Islington Assembly Hall. The album had been out for a few weeks, and judging by the queue outside, I could tell everyone was twitching with anticipation to feel the explosive horns of ‘Tittle Tattle’ and deep groove of ‘Buckle Up’. Upon entry, reality set in: chairs were spaced out next to signs that read ‘please remain seated’, while men in hi-vis vests circled the parameters like it was a dystopian school talent show.

But we didn’t let that extinguish our excitement levels. An overhead voice saying the show was about to start evoked a disproportionate level of applause, before a near-hysterical welcome began for the musicians as they positioned themselves around the large stage. So far, everyone was abiding by seating rules, but during one explosive drop on the album’s fifth track ‘Keeper’, a brave comrade in front of me leapt to their feet.

An angry neon vest was summoned almost immediately, but before the dancer could be convinced to sit back down, another person flew up in the opposite corner. Then another and another. It was a protest of dance, and positively thrilling. When it became clear this game of human whack-a-mole couldn’t be won, the crowd (now more like caged animals than naughty school children) were left to stand, united in movement. Invigorated and full of joy once again, I made my way back home.

Now, I know Nubiyan Twist’s late-night performance at this year’s festival will (presumably) not feature such feral antics, nor will it compare to seeing them for the first time in a 120-capacity basement, high on stress hormones. Yet my excitement to witness this dynamic collective conjure up a slightly different flavour of their signature jazz-fusion cocktail is just as present. Fortunately this time, the crowd’s heartfelt grins won’t be hidden by surgical masks.

Nubiyan Twist, George Square Spiegeltent, 22 July, 11pm.