Above photo : Tony Buck, Lloyd Swanton & Chris Abrahams.. Photo courtesy Beat magazine
In August 2018, shortly after succeeding the late John McBeath as The Australian’s jazz reviewer, I reviewed The Necks’ album Body, the group’s 20th album. In an ideal world, I should have been familiar with the preceding 19 albums but of course that’s not a realistic possibility. I suffer from the reviewer’s curse in that writing for a weekly music reviews page, there’s time enough only to become an instant expert on a solitary album, although I daresay it would have been enjoyable to have had the time to listen to all the music on The Necks’ interesting and prolific albums.
Soon after I reviewed two subsequent Necks albums: Three in February, 2020, and Bleed in February, 2025. The trio may have released others, which may have been reviewed by miscellaneous writers on my editor Andrew McMillen’s team of reviewers at The Australian. That’s highly likely as the trio’s music can fit into genres other than jazz, and reviewers have in the past put their hands up to take on The Necks’ music, their interest no doubt owing to the group’s huge success.
Having said that, I can’t say that the fascinating music I heard on those three albums prepared me in any practical sense for their concert at City Recital Hall on Feb 26. As Lloyd Swanton once said in a 1999 interview “I should stress that there are really two versions of The Necks – the live Necks, and the recorded Necks, and they’re quite different things in a lot of ways.”
In the City Recital Hall we heard the “live” Necks, the music being entirely improvised throughout two one-hour sets. I was confident that this would be unique, unlike any previous performance, and unlikely to be duplicated in the future. This was music which had to be contemplated in the moment, before it would be lost in the ether forever.
It’s known that once the three musicians are onstage, there’s a mysterious process by which one player chooses to start. It could be any one of the three, and is not pre-planned. I was looking forward to a substantial pause while this spontaneous process took place, not unlike the pause which classical conductors take before beating in the first note of an orchestral work. On this occasion, however, the pause was short; certainly shorter than I expected. It was Abrahams on piano who struck the first note without delay once he was seated at the piano. A longer pause would have had the benefit of relaxing the mind of the listener. I wondered if Abrahams had rushed in. Could he not have waited a little longer? Locating his two hands in the middle of the keyboard, he played a simple motif which I felt might have been based on a C major triad. Abrahams kept this going without variation for some time.
What was played by the trio as a collective for maybe the next 20 minutes or so was very beautiful melodically. For some time Swanton restricted his contribution to two notes which, to my ears, were a semitone apart. Buck began with quiet, somewhat eerie, percussive sounds which, oddly, I perceived as a humorous commentary on Abrahams’ figure. Why I found it amusing I have no idea, but I felt I was going with the flow.
Throughout the two sets Swanton alternated between arco bass playing, picking up his bow and producing a melodic, sustained tone on the instrument, then reverting to pizzicato, plucking the strings. Buck’s contributions meanwhile were increasing in volume and complexity in a very subtle way. I stress this was happening gently and incrementally. There was little drama in the music, and I was content to suspend my expectations, no doubt picking up on the restraint that was in the air, and knowing that I was listening, not to orthodox jazz, but to textural jazz where all three players appeared to be playing within themselves, determined not to dominate the others.
After about 20 minutes I think I was in something of a reverie. I felt this was promising, but that state of mind was not strong enough to cope successfully with an act of God: I was interrupted by three latecomers who had to push past me to take their seats. (I was seated with a friend in E row on the aisle, not far from the stage). The concentration on the music that was evolving in my mind came to an abrupt end. While I didn’t feel this was terminal, it took me a considerable time to re-engage with the music after this unfortunate deflation.
It wasn’t long before Abrahams ranged up the keyboard with some arpeggios, and Swanton, I seem to remember, increased his contribution to three notes, although I can’t be sure of this. I have no clear idea of how long these processes took, but it is the case that time flew by; that is to say, I lost track of time. When the first set ended, after what I thought was perhaps about half-an-hour, I was surprised to discover that one hour had elapsed. Something similar happened in the case of the second set which seemed to be over in a flash.
Still, returning to the first set, I felt that about half-way through, I began to feel that the virtuosity of Tony Buck was coming to the fore. At the very point that a less constrained pianist might have taken off with a flight of imagination, Abrahams did not budge, and remained where he was, playing softly, without increasing his volume, which seemingly allowed Buck to take the reins in the music.
The thought crossed my mind at one point that the superb sound system in the CRH could be defeating the purpose of the music. Although my sightlines were not particularly clear, I sensed there were umpteen microphones on the drums, and this was confirmed later by pics supplied by the photographer Vitor Duarte, which showed Buck surrounded by an imposing battery of mikes. In other forms of jazz, this state of affairs has often been an irritant, in the sense that when the drums are over-amplified, a drummer can become excited and bully the music, overwhelming the sounds made by other musicians.
I cannot say that Buck was excited; on the contrary, far from it. What he played was always exceedingly cool, even riveting. But it was as if his virtuosity was creating its own life force. Certainly his playing was evolving to a higher level of energy, which sounded to my ears, not like a drum solo, but was more simply a brilliant percussionist staying well within the soundscape, but uncannily coming to the fore in the texture of the music by virtue of his intelligence, rather than through volume. As this went on, I would have welcomed Abrahams’ joining him with more energy, but this didn’t happen, which was something of a disappointment.
In my review of The Necks album Three in February 2020, I was so enamoured by the beauty of certain passages played by Abrahams that I stressed this in my piece: “The most striking aspect of the 21st album by The Necks is the melodic beauty in pianist Chris Abrahams’s playing… even when his figures are back in the sound mix, his melodic gift is palpable.”
In the CRH, it’s possible that Abrahams was simply not prompted to express what I wished to hear. That’s one reason why I have often regarded free improvisation as a hit-or-miss affair. But I heard very little of Abrahams’ melodic gift on the night, although it’s possible that it was there fleetingly in the mix, and I missed it. That is what’s confounding about The Necks’ music: one’s expectations can be challenged by what appears to be a new reality. The closest the music came to my expectations was towards the end of the first set, when Buck’s volume came down slightly, and Abrahams’ sound on the piano could suddenly be heard with pristine clarity. At that moment, I felt immense pleasure.
At the end of the first set, there was rapturous applause from an appreciative audience which was palpably locked in to the group’s music. Still, there was another one-hour set to come, and I was wondering what it would be like. I was half expecting it to be much more dynamic, with maybe passages where the musicians would increase their energy level and go to town. From their albums, I was well aware of the enormous propulsion which Buck and Swanton are capable of, once they got going. But I found the second set to be essentially more of the same; the trajectory of the first set was very much duplicated. At least that’s what I believe I heard.
Still, as that set went on, I nevertheless sensed a marginal increase of energy. I had the distinct feeling that the musicians were now playing with more confidence, probably as a result of the applause which greeted them at the end of their first set. No jazz musician can ignore genuine applause – it inevitably breaks the ice – and I feel the members of The Necks must have been encouraged to feel more at home in the relatively cold atmosphere of a large concert hall which lacks the warmth that’s possible in a smaller, more intimate venue. But their determination to stay constrained was still the dominant impulse in the air.
Buck used his mallets I believe for the first time, and the music became busier, and marginally more expansive. At one point he used a little bell in his left hand, and made good use of a tiny rectangular shaker which he used in conjunction either with a stick or a brush. It was these percussive sounds which in my view gave the music most of its life throughout the two sets. It was therefore Buck whom I found responsible for the most interesting music on the night.
In my notes I wrote that Swanton’s bass figures in the second set were becoming more prominent, with Abrahams initially responding ever so subtly. As in the first set, the volume built up incrementally, particularly on the bass and drums, with Abrahams on piano still tending to take a back seat. Whether this was the intention of the musicians, or simply a question of sound balance I have no idea. Swanton continued to alternate between using his bow and plucking the strings.
There was one odd thing which I found remarkable: at a certain point towards the end of the performance, there were extraneous noises in the soundscape, which appeared to come from nowhere. The friend who accompanied me also heard these mysterious sounds, as did I. We both felt they could only have emanated from the drums. But there was no visual evidence of Buck actually creating such sounds; it was as if these sounds were being provided by a fourth member of The Necks, a ghostly percussionist.
Lloyd Swanton, Chris Abrahams and Tony Buck go so far back in Australian jazz, that it’s hard not to be influenced by what they’ve shown themselves to be capable of outside the unique context of The Necks. The status of these musicians in Australian jazz is now legendary. Think of The Benders, the quartet dating back to 1980 which included saxophonist Dale Barlow (before he left Australia in 1982, to be replaced by Jason Morphett), Abrahams, Swanton and drummer Andrew Gander (sometimes replaced by Buck ). The Benders were playing music quite unlike that of The Necks, but its members were palpably jazz masters even then, as young men. All of us who were alive during the 1980s & 1990s were aware of their standing; it explains the inevitable respect 40 years later that we now feel for the three musicians who subsequently were fortunate enough to hit on a genre of jazz, a form of minimalist free improvisation, that is unique to themselves, and is virtually inimitable.
Not unexpectedly The Necks received a standing ovation from a rapturous audience at the close of their second set. I estimate there were over 1,000 people in a venue which holds a little over 1,200. The concert therefore was virtually a sell-out, and could be considered a major success from all points of view.
This event however confirmed that I’m unlikely to become a devoted fan of The Necks; that would require an unlikely journey, considering the other forms of jazz to which I’m already devoted, and which take up most of my time. In my mind fascination is everywhere in jazz; devotion is much more selective. Moreover, for some reason I hanker after a degree of certainty, while The Necks’ music encourages the opposite. Often their music seems like a mirage; the more I feel I’ve come to grips with what I know of their music, the more it disappears from my grasp.
Yet, make no mistake about it, The Necks are a fascinating phenomenon. Come to think of it, there are two such imposing phenomena in Australian jazz, built around unmitigated success over a very long time, both within Australia and internationally. The Necks are of course, one of them; the other is James Morrison. Or should I say the Morrisons, now that James’s two highly talented sons are in the mix?
Anyone seriously interested in Australian jazz cannot avoid thinking about these two brilliant groups of musicians, who are so dominant. And, isn’t it astonishing that their musics are so different, like chalk and cheese? That’s the unique genius of the art form of jazz; it has produced in Australia two styles of music that are completely different from each other, and may even be incompatible. But both are extremely successful and equally valid, and that’s fascinating in itself.
This concert took place at City Recital Hall, 2 Angel Place, Sydney, on Thursday, February 26, 2026, featuring The Necks, including Chris Abrahams (piano), Lloyd Swanton (double bass) and Tony Buck (drums & percussion).
