Creatively balanced trio Necks greater than the sum of its parts

In three decades, the Necks have built a worldwide following with mesmerising perform­ances. They’re on tour, including Sydney this weekend.

The Necks in concert at the Utzon Room, Sydney Opera House. From left, Tony Buck, Lloyd Swanton and Chris Abrahams. Picture: Clare Hawley

It goes without saying that the Necks exist in a world of their own. For three decades, Tony Buck (drums), Chris Abrahams (piano) and Lloyd Swanton (bass) have built a worldwide following with a series of mesmerising perform­ances, both live and in the studio.

Their debut recording, Sex, 30 years ago this year, consisted of a single track across 56 minutes, and there’s really nothing else like it. Their music is all improvis­ed, which makes what they do at once simple and impossibly complex.

During last Thursday night’s performance, the first of four at the Sydney Opera House’s Utzon Room — where the musicians faced that stunning harbour view — it occurred to me that the Necks are unique for another reason. I can’t think of another trio, in any genre, that balances its creative energies so evenly between its three members. This truly is an ensemble greater than any individual.

As they played, I noticed my attention most often on Swanton, but that was probably because he happened to be standing in the centre, facing the audience. It was also Swanton who introduced the band at the end of each piece.

But it would be a mistake to consider him the de facto leader of the Necks. This is a band, after all, that finds its strength in collective creativity, with each member given equal prominence and import­ance.

No single player, in other words, is the leader. And, more important, no one tries to be, each preferring instead to add layer upon layer to the project being built together.

This is rare in music, especially in improvised music and jazz. We’re all human, and musicians with talent to burn can be forgiven for flaunting it every now and then. But with Swanton, Buck and Abrahams, there’s a profound hum­ility at work, both in relation to each other and to their music, even after all these years.

They played two sets, single pieces each lasting roughly an hour. Both sets grew from sparse phrases into immersive walls of sound, each built on a variety of textures each player has mastered so well: rumbling notes in the piano’s lower register, the dance of lightweight sticks on the cymbals, the stammered bowing on the bass.

The second set began with a fragmented pattern from Abrahams on the piano — and when the others came in it was like three separate conversations taking place, only to morph into a single, driving force.

At the end of each section, the audience seemed to be holding its breath as the final notes rang out across the room. The hushed atmosphere was broken by one enthusiastic audience member who allowed only a few seconds of sil­ence before clapping.

The first time he did it, Buck looked up, startled, from behind the drums. Perhaps, like the rest of us, he wanted that stillness to endure a few seconds more, to savour those mysterious, elusive moments of creation a little longer.

Wollongong, February 8; Canberra, February 9; Brisbane, February 23; Adelaide, March 9; Castlemaine, March 10; Brunswick, March 11 and 12; Hobart, March 13.