Steven Bernstein’s Millennial Territory Orchestra
A review of Steven Bernstein’s Millennial Territory Orchestra performance at nublu 151 on April 23, 2019. The orchestra consists of Steven Bernstein (Trumpet), Curtis Fowlkes (Trombone), Charlie Burnham (Violin), Matt Darriau (Clarinet), Peter Apfelbaum (Tenor Sax), Erik Lawrence (Bari Sax), Matt Munisteri (Guitar), Ben Allison (Bass), and Kenny Wollesen (Drums).
The start of the new weekly residency headlined by Steven Bernstein’s Millennial Territory Orchestra marked New York’s transition to springtime with music that sounded like new growth in dirt. The musicians who joined Bernstein onstage had definitely experienced the pieces before, but they exorcised them for the season; the songs let out their death rattle and their first breath all at once, and the last wintry sighs lingering in me after a drawn-out March were cast out.
The opening notes of their first set remind me of a circus propping itself up — tent poles and elephant legs — and I imagine colorful flags flapping around the room… I remember Nights of Cabiria and let the final scene play in my head as the orchestra gains momentum: despairing Cabiria walking an empty road; carefree teenagers charging out of nowhere, surrounding her with music and dancing; eyeliner running into one perfect clown tear as she cries, grateful for their laughter…
I hear earthy New Orleans-style jazz — played by (at least a few) Lounge Lizards, composed like a Fellini, and rolled up like a clove cigarette — and catch a mood that perseveres throughout the set: every song ends in triumph or positive affirmation, and we clap a little harder for the feeling each time. I’m desperate for confetti to fall and gumbo to run down the walls at the end of each piece.
Instead of Italian teenagers I’m surrounded by older American men with good posture… all are wearing hats and exuding this casually dapper aura that I know the 20-something couple to my left is eating up and calling a ‘Gatsby sensibility.’ I sit and wonder who in the room considers this kind of music romantic.
Bassist Ben Allison and saxophonist Peter Apfelbuam duet like two shy teenagers. They make sounds like they’re flirting nervously, inching toward each other, anticipating the first touch. If they keep going like this they’ll be breathing into each other’s mouths. Charlie Burnham’s violin cuts in offering an incantatory solo; Allison, Fowlkes, and Wollesen drop in to finish the spell. It would be sinister if Burnham’s glide wasn’t so smooth. He plays that thing so kindly.
The saxophonists and Matt Darriau (clarinet) sit in a line and keen and blurt like happy birds. Bernstein wiggles his fingers at them. He’s a freaky conductor and it’s difficult to decipher his gestures. He’s incredibly open though, sharing his honest affection for his fellow players with the audience; he’s transparent about his indecision as he wonders what to play next.
Another song begins, conjuring a dizzying storm and raising cats’ hackles. Everyone rumbles — Wollesen most of all — and I feel electric, summertime air: I’m suddenly back upstate, chasing thunder and watching warm rain pour onto the countryside highway. Then I’m back at the bar as some loud guy proclaims the clarinetist the best in the band, just as the musician launches into a sweet, convincing monologue. The orchestra begins to slur its words as Bernstein segues into the “tempos [he] loves.” The night ends with a groovy, chugging melody I wish I could eat… I think of fried dough. I hope they play it every week.