Theo Croker is an American trumpeter, composer, and producer known for his boundary-pushing blend of jazz, hip-hop, soul and electronic sounds. Nominated for a Grammy, Croker dives into the spiritual and futuristic jazz with deep cultural roots. This year, Theo Croker took the stage at Fasching to present his latest album, Dream Manifest.
If I were to describe the overall feeling of Croker’s performance, it felt like a contrast shower – the band brings you to your acoustic maximum and then soothes you with a smooth, gradual tune.
Mixing the echo from the second microphone with Miguel Russell’s punctuated transitions on the drums, Croker added the sound effects of forestal sonic magnitude that together formed an open space concept – everyone sees everyone, hears everyone and yet levitates in their own mini bubble.
These levitation exercises resembled a deconstructed dish – a staple in fusion cuisine – that invites the listener to experience each component individually, rather than combining them into a single mix of flavours. The fluidity of Croker’s music definitely added to this sense of disintegration. His trumpet echoed as if someone in the audience had thrown a stone into the water and it skipped a few times on the surface.
Not everyone is a big fan of contrast showers, and I have to admit – my immersion into Croker’s world was slow. I couldn’t quite figure out if I was enjoying the trip or not, but then Miguel Russell started soloing, and that was it, I was bought in. Thirty minutes passed and I finally understood why the flow is kept uninterrupted – stopping it would ruin the magic. Like a yoga flow, you need to go through the stages to get to the feeling of completeness. Stop halfway and you’re left in the dark.
The dreamy progression made it feel like you’re inside a spinning kaleidoscope: flying lights, reflections, shades and colours everywhere. Beautifully enough, when Eric Wheeler on bass started his solo, the rotations inside the kaleidoscope abruptly stopped, and everyone, on and off the stage, listened intently.
The second set was a classic game of highs and lows – the band brought the audience to a high level of musical saturation in the first section before giving a moment of respite that felt like a serene getaway. With some lovely call-and-response transitions between Croker on trumpet, Russell on drums and Wheeler on the bass, the band gave way to an electrifying piano solo by Idris Frederick. The concept of time became relative as Frederick tirelessly crafted a vibrant, accentuated atmosphere of immersion. Characterised by the Latin jazz influences, he played astutely with crescendoes and abruptly finished with a punchline.
The band was joined by Seinabo Sey, who added the vocals to an immersive section of their spiritual jazz. Together, they cemented a surreal image in my mind, reminding me of The Persistence of Memory by Dalí: a remote desert with metamorphosed fluid watches, distorted proportions and spread-out perspectives.
