How Theon Cross Is Bringing An Overlooked Instrument Into the 21st Century
A dive into Theon Cross's two solo records
The tuba isn’t generally thought of as a jazz instrument. There are a few people who play it, sure: Bob Stewart was part of Arthur Blythe’s group for a while and later worked with Lester Bowie’s Brass Fantasy band. But generally one has to go back in time, past even the big bands of Duke Ellington and Count Basie, all the way back to Louis Armstrong’s bands almost a century ago to find them.
It’s outside of my wheelhouse to say why this happened, although I have my theories: the double bass has more range, not to mention more players. I also wonder how audible it was once big bands started having layers of reeds and brass instruments. It’s also a large and somewhat awkward instrument to carry and play - it’s also why I think there’s so few euphonium players in jazz, too.
But interestingly, the tuba’s reemerged lately thanks to British musician Theon Cross. Cross is one quarter of Sons of Kemet, a group that’s released a few records on Impulse and racked up a significant following. Late last year Cross released his second solo album, Intra-I.
But a curious thing happened this September: Sons of Kemet announced that following this tour, they’re disbanding. It’s been a remarkable run for the group, who’ve been together for about a decade. Not only are they one of the most well-received bands in London’s exciting jazz scene, they’re perhaps even the biggest British jazz group in years.
But back to Cross. In early 2019, he released his first album as leader: Fyah. In a trio with a crack group of musicians - drummer Moses Boyd, sax player Nubya Garcia - Cross toots and blasts with reckless abandon. On “Activate,” the album's opening track, Boyd plays a skittering drum pattern while Cross blasts away on his tuba. Garcia’s left to carry the song’s melody and she moves around freely in the deep groove Cross and Boyd make. Meanwhile, on “Radiation,” Boyd’s playing takes a cue from hip-hop, a funky sort of rhythm. Cross’s playing compliments Garcia’s: they trade off licks like they’re finishing each other’s sentences. There’s a neat effect late in the track when Garcia’s sax lines split like light hitting a prism, darting off into multiple lines that all compliment each other.
It’s not all fast-paced stuff, either. This trio slows it down on a couple songs, most notably on “The Offerings,” where Boyd’s playing seems almost chant-like and hypnotic. Garcia’s tone takes on a more reedy sound here, carrying the melody and darting around the groove.
Perhaps the band’s best performance comes on “Letting Go,” a lengthy song where all three get to stretch out. It opens with Cross taking the reins, but Garcia answers with one of her own. Indeed, she takes long lines on the chorus, slow lines that drift. Cross’s playing is a nice counterpart to this, little riffs that work under these long blasts. She takes a short solo, too, reaching for high notes one doesn’t usually associate with his instrument. Garcia’s layered sax lines have an interesting effect too, like a film with double exposure, like shadows on shadows.
On two of Fyre’s tracks, Boyd and Cross are joined by Wayne Francis on sax and Artie Zaitz on guitar. The change in mood is instant. On “Candace of Meroe,” Zaitz’s playing has an African, highlife sort of feel. His jagged rhythm lines, combined with both Boyd’s drumming and Tim Doyle’s percussion, push the track along at light speed and infuse it with a blast of energy. Francis’s lines, meanwhile, are quick darts up and down, jabbing like a boxer in the ring. He comes at the listener from all angles, sometimes reaching right into his sax’s higher registers. Cross can sometimes be lost in the mix, but when everyone steps back to let him stretch out, he blows fast lines, ripping off quick bursts.
This lineup (minus Doyle, but with Nathaniel Cross on trombone) appears again on ‘CIYA,” the album's longest track. Boyd’s drumming here is more restrained and sets a ballad-like vibe. Francis’s playing is emotive, with a slick edge to it, while Zaitz’s guitar chimes like something from a George Benson record. The trombone adds a nice texture to the chorus and when Nathaniel stretches out, he plays at a more leisurely pace. The whole group takes turns in the spotlight, but when Cross plays he’s almost at risk of being overpowered by the other instruments and one has to strain sometimes to pick his tuba out of the mix.
While Sons of Kemet is one of London’s most interesting and powerful jazz groups, it’s also something of Shabaka Hutchings’s show, with him writing all the band’s material. But on Fyah, Cross makes a case for his songs and shows himself as a capable leader.
In October 2021, Cross released his second solo album Intra-I. It marked a significant change in his only his playing, but even with his sound. The two groups from his first record were gone, replaced by multi-instrumentalist Emre Ramazanoglu. He was an interesting choice for this record. As a producer and musician, Ranazanoglu’s worked with some top-flight talent: Lily Allen, Carly Rae Jepsen, Sia, and a bunch more besides.But he’s also someone with one foot in the jazz scene: he’s the drummer for Ill Considered, a London-based group.
Still, a casual listen of the record suggests Ramazanoglu and Cross made for odd bedfellows. Instead of straight-ahead playing, Intra-I is a record of layered sound, of effect pedals and jagged rhythms. At times it reminds one of 90s acts like Massive Attack or Groove Armada; at others, it reminds one of records by Sarathy Korwar in the way it interpolates international styles into its heady mix.
On “Here We Go Again,” there’s an electro beat and blasts of tuba that sound like a Moog playing a bass line. Before long, Cross’s playing is layered, pushing his instrument to the front of the mix, almost a wave of sound. It’s an interesting effect, especially as the groove builds and his horn blasts are twisted until they’re almost unrecognizable. Meanwhile on “40Tude,” a slinky keyboard groove and skittering drums meet Cross’s horn in a cross-section that surely rumbles on a good sound system.
On a handful of tracks, this duo is joined by vocalists: Afronaut Zu, Remi Graves, Shumba Massai, among others. Graves recites poetry over low tuba blasts on the record’s opening track, her voice icy and firm. “We spoke to those yet to come,” she says, setting the scene. Late on Intra-I, Consensus drops in on “Play to Win” to spit rapid-fire lines, while Maasai’s appearance on ‘Roots” has a more laid-back flow.
However, I’m not so sure this mixing of styles and sounds are completely effective. Without Ranazanoglu’s effects, Cross’s playing would be all but lost in the mix - and even with them, it’s hard to pick him out at times. The music feels half-finished, like it’s sketches for something that a fuller band might flesh out.
As a duo, Cross and Ramazanoglu make some interesting beats for people to rap over… but is it jazz? Dance music? Something else? After a couple of listens, I’m not that Intra-I knows what it wants to be. Is it supposed to make me shake my ass? Sit and listen to the dueling tubas on “Universal Alignment,” trying to concentrate on their interplay? Is it a statement of multiculturalism, an attempt to synthesize the different elements of London’s music scene into one cohesive whole?
There’s a lot of ambition on Intra-I, so much so that I think it bogs down the album’s potential. Indeed, the whole project raises more questions than it answers. After two solo records and three with Sons of Kemet, you’d think Cross would be coming into his own as a composer and performer. Instead, I’m just left wondering if his interests are so wide-ranging that he can’t settle down to focus on one or two of them.
But with the dissolution of Sons of Kemet, Cross suddenly has a lot more time on his hands. He’s already established himself as a leader who can write some interesting originals and as someone who isn’t afraid to push out of the tradition - both in terms of instrumentation or in style and sound. Perhaps an already interesting scene is about to get a lot more so.