LIVE REVIEW: JASMINE MYRA - HOWARD ASSEMBLY ROOMS
Photo Credit: Jasmine Myra by Emily Dennison
Tucked inconspicuously amongst the late bars and chicken shops of New Briggate, the Howard Assembly Rooms feels distinct from the hustle and bustle of the outside world. Here, the thrum of commuters and revellers gives way to something altogether more serene. A liminal space. A temporary escape from the incessant noise of modern life. This week, the venue played host to local saxophonist and composer Jasmin Myra, whose dreamlike, lyrical compositions have made her a favourite at Some Other Time HQ ever since the release of her debut record, Horizons, back in 2022. Tonight’s performance celebrates her latest project, Where Light Settles, released earlier this year via Manchester imprint Gondwana Records.
Joined by an impressive eleven-piece band, Myra opened the evening with ‘Reflections’, one of the standout tracks from her new record. Having studied at Leeds Conservatoire, her return to the city, backed by an ensemble of this calibre, felt like a full-circle moment and a testament to how far she has come since the release of her debut album.
The evening’s set drew heavily from her impressive back catalogue, but the composer also treated the audience to several unreleased tracks, offering a tantalising glimpse of what's to come. The first, ‘Revery’, was inspired by the work of Brazilian guitarist Fabiano do Nascimento, whose album Vila is one our favourite releases of the year. “I wanted to copy him,” Myra laughs as she introduces the track. Nascimento’s music is known for its bright, bossa-inflected guitar passages, and while that influence is evident, Myra wears her inspirations lightly, incorporating intricately plucked sections without ever slipping into pastiche.
When we interviewed her a couple of years ago, she spoke freely about the impact of MF DOOM and Madvillain on her early work. Despite her evolution as a composer, traces of those foundational influences remain. ‘Fragments’, which she explains was inspired by the film scores of Dustin O’Halloran, still carries a faint sense of hip-hop, particularly in its trap-inspired drum patterns and piano passages that evoke, to my ears, something of the looping, hypnotic refrains of Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers). It is a reminder that Myra’s music, for all its dreamlike qualities, is built from a remarkably eclectic palette.
As an artist, she is undeniably a collagist, but the beauty of her writing lies in how seamlessly these disparate influences come together. During ‘Some Rain Must Fall’, I find myself completely absorbed by the performance. On this particular track she makes such generous use of space, allowing the arrangement to breathe before the ensemble gathers in great, cinematic swells of sound. There are shades of Ryuichi Sakamoto here, particularly ‘Merry Christmas Mr Lawrence’, in the way the music balances restraint with its overwhelming emotional pull.
Introducing the track, Myra explains that it takes its name from Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s poem ‘The Rainy Day’, drawing in particular on its closing stanza:
Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.
The context of poem lends the composition a gentle optimism. As the arrangement unfolds from Myra’s opening saxophone solo, the introduction of the harp evokes sunlight breaking through clouds. When the strings follow, the music opens into something approaching revelation, offering a brief reprieve from the ills of the outside world. The piano solo in the final third brings the piece to a contemplative close, leaving the room temporarily suspended in its afterglow.
The artists around Myra are of course, central to the music’s lingering impact. Jasper Green’s deft piano work, the soft contributions of flautists Joel Steadman and Rianna Henriques, and the addition of a rousing string section, a new feature of this ensemble, lend the compositions a grander, more cinematic quality. Myra, however, remains a modest bandleader, writing generously for all sections while reserving only occasional moments to show off her own considerable chops on the sax. When those moments arrive, they are all the more rewarding. ‘In an Instant’, towards the end of the set, gives the audience a welcome reminder of the range and fluidity of her playing.
Following a brief, almost bashful exit from the stage, Myra and the band return for ‘Glimmers’, from her 2024 release Rising. The saxophone refrain has always reminded me of Bon Jovi’s ‘Wanted Dead or Alive,' a tasteless comparison, perhaps, but one that lends the track an unexpectedly anthemic quality. It is a fitting close to the evening, a final flourish from a composer whose arrangements have grown increasingly ambitious without ever losing their warmth or human resonance.
It would be no exaggeration to describe Jasmin Myra as one of the most compelling voices in British jazz. This is music brimming with hope, not just in its melodies but in the reminder that extraordinary things are happening in the most unassuming places. Outside, New Briggate carries on as it always does: the hum of Wax Bar, the smell of Dixy Chicken, the shouts and laughter of people out for a night on the town. Inside, for an hour or two, Myra and co offer the audience a distillation of beauty itself. In a world seemingly determined to find reasons for despair, there is something quietly radical about that.
