Live Review: George Burton Live at 9 Orchard
Photo: Erin O’Brien
It’s crowded on the second floor of Nine Orchard, a small but swanky hotel in the middle of a tiny block off of Canal Street. On the evening of October 7th, everyone’s gathered to celebrate the release of White Noise, the latest album by award-winning pianist, composer, bandleader, and producer, George Burton. A little after nine, the band makes their way to the makeshift stage in the middle of the room. Burton sits on the far left, facing the three musicians in front of him.
Photo: Erin O’Brien
A woman starts the set with a speech about colonialism, Black expression, and the omnipotent “machine,” bluntly introducing the crux of the matter: White Noise is an examination of the survival of Black creativity.
When the music starts, Burton’s disruptive, discordant keys catches me off guard and takes me out of the Nine Orchard. It puzzling and otherworldly—something Sun Ra would play to transport people to his new utopian planet, Burton’s arkestra instead filled with Dylan Band on the saxophone, Junius Paul on the bass, and Nazir Ebo on the drums. The hour isn’t completely filled with flickery free jazz, though. There’s an equal amount of time with non-ambiguously groove-catching melodies. It doesn’t matter, though, the crowd is eager to receive whatever the band presents.
As it goes with experiencing jazz live, the quartet is as fun to watch as they are to listen to. Their mutual respect and admiration for is palpable—each take a step back to take in the other’s solos, and it seems like it’s bliss for them to do so. There’s never a moment of uncertainty or tension, so it’s impressive to know the group hadn’t performed these songs together before.
Photo: Erin O’Brien
The egoless collaboration is what makes this night so successful; the same can be said about Black creative survival. White Noise’s message, and the takeaway from this show, is one of optimism. One of the night’s highlights comes when Dante Clark takes the stage to perform “A Color for Hope” from the album. It’s not filled with false positivity; it doesn’t forget the tragedies of past or ignore the anxieties in the present, but it paints the possibility of peace in the future.
As a participant of the city’s music scene, it’s not rare to see artist friends express emptiness in their work, but Burton reminds us that sound can provide a light to brighter future. Like the slave songs creating a secret language, or Sun Ra re-imagining music as a mode of transportation, music itself can be a form of resilience—and during the times we need it most.
