Few trios, in ‘jazz’ terms, venture into the "bizarre yet compelling" territory as Blurt. Formed in 1980 it’s both heartening and extraordinary that such a twisted trio have survived, and indeed, thrived through twenty years of gigs and as many albums. Led by their founder Ted Milton, this is no contrived attempt at being strange for the sake of art, besides their punk-edged rawness always prevents things turning indulgent - or locked in pastiche - the frazzled funky beats rooting Milton’s squalling sax and rabid poetic swipes, while swaying, grinding guitar slices through the groove.
Thus Milton’s crew this Glastonbury feature new member and ex-Cardiacs drummer Bob Leith and proto-punk guitarist Steve Eagles whose been at Ted’s side for the best part of 15 years. Whether or not the crowd were prepared for the sparse assault of Milton’s Beefheart-inspired vocals, with lyrics that invariably bite chunks out of daily life, is not really the point, featuring Blurt honors the rebellious creativity that fuels Glastonbury.
I’m afraid this reviewer is in the main unfamiliar with Blurt’s prolific past, but the dry thumping grooves, drive themselves home with a freshness and simplicity sadly lacking in other ‘experimental’ units. Milton plays with such an instinctive will over his sax that he is never less than fluid, yet his twisted version of Coltrane’s sheets of notes has a startlingly pungent sound, and to Milton’s credit his harmonic inventiveness actually marks him out alongside Evan Parker et al, as a true innovator in his field.
As the gig took shape their punk edge began to spill through, Eagles’ guitar scraping and wailing by turns. ‘I Am An Empty Vessel (Making Lots Of Noise)’ found Milton’s lyrical core, the ex-puppeteer’s sense of theatre found him writhing towards the floor, his exasperated delivery exploding, then calming to a whisper. Walking from the stage without looking back at the close, this seemed fitting exit for a band that have never dwelt on the past and remain a vivid force today.