What Lies Before the Sound: 'Frank McComb' | My Body Is Still Swaying
A voice stretching into the space.
Even though he isn't raising his voice, the air is trembling.
Frank McComb's voice envelops the entire venue, holding us all within it.
The keyboard playing is powerful, too.
Round, thick fingers firmly grasp the keys.
It felt less like pressing them and more like grabbing them. His fingers sink into the keyboard's keys—which are shallower than a piano's—as deeply as they possibly can.
And yet, the sound never becomes heavy.
It is light, moving forward while fitting perfectly into the beat.
The arrangement gradually heats up, and the bass responds from down low.
Frank nods.
He makes eye contact with the bassist.
Music is being created right there on the spot.
I witnessed such moments time and time again.
I was also captivated by the drums.
As the music builds toward a climax, the performance accelerates.
Before I knew it, my breathing had become shallow, and I realized I had been holding my breath.
Even at such tremendous speed, there are rests.
That slight void created tension.
It looks as though he is utilizing his body's reflexes, yet also as if he is stepping beyond them.
His hands move like springs, surpassing their limits again and again.
At that superhuman speed, a smile involuntarily broke out on the bassist's face.
Drums have no musical scale.
And yet, why are they so rich?
Through dynamics,
through the relationship with other instruments,
they change their expression so much that it's hard to believe it's the same drum kit.
His intense drumming style was a masterpiece, but his quiet performance was equally magnificent.
The sound of the restrained cymbals gently nestled against my heart.
I later learned that the drummer, Yoràn Vroom, is influenced by the rhythmic cultures of the Caribbean and West Africa.
Thinking of the rhythms from a land where steel pan festivals are a national tradition, I found myself understanding that wild yet disciplined performance.
Perhaps that is one of the reasons why the drums, which have no musical scale, showed such rich expression.
Midway through, Frank moved to the grand piano.
The fingers that seemed to grip the keyboard while playing the synthesizer looked strangely soft in front of the piano.
He touched the keys as if cherishing them.
However, that calmness did not last long.
Before I knew it, the piano was swept up in Frank's pace, racing away at high speed.
It was a different kind of explosive power than classical music.
There was a strength to it, as if he were pushing the sound deep into the keys and even further beyond.
At times, when the drums seemed to lean forward, Frank appeared to pull back slightly.
Pushing, pulling.
Chasing, catching.
The music felt like a negotiation between people, which somehow made me feel ticklish.
Perhaps it was because I had been listening while leaning forward the whole time.
I realized I was thirsty only after it was too late.
The syrupy mocktail slowly moistened my throat.
The scent of lavender drifted by, and the sweetness of the poached peach compote lingered faintly.
In the dim light, the mocktail floated as quietly as a prayer.
After passing through my throat, the acidity of the aged white balsamic vinegar slowly followed.
It was like a small rest placed between notes of music.
The tiramisu was also impressive.
When it was brought to the table, its appearance was completely different from the tiramisu I had imagined.
Each part is delicious enough on its own.
However, when I layered them little by little and brought them to my mouth, they strangely became a single tiramisu.
That transformation was somewhat similar to the performance of the three musicians.
Frank's voice.
Anthony's bass.
Yoran's drums.
Even though each exists independently, the moment they overlap, a different landscape emerges.
The pistachio pudding was also beautiful.
Topped with citrus ice cream and caramelized decorations, it looked like a small stage.
Perhaps that night continued on the table even after the live performance ended.
The chocolate-covered caramelized nuts were also unforgettable.
The chocolate blended well with the crunchy nuts, enhancing each other's texture and aroma.
Even in a small dish, there was a harmony similar to the performance.
Frank's solo was at full speed from the very beginning.
While the body moving toward the next phrase is relaxed, only the hands are spinning at high speed.
The balance between the left and right hands.
The pause at the moment the fingers leave the keys.
All of it is comfortable.
The voice was also an instrument.
The entire body resonates, and that vibration is transmitted to me.
Before I knew it, the entire venue was swaying.
The finale was a drum solo.
I had felt something extraordinary from the beginning, but the solo turned it into certainty.
Overwhelming dynamics.
It was wild, yet controlled to the very end.
Accelerating at a speed too fast for the eye to follow, it gathered the heat of the venue.
The vibration of the sound shook the floor, and my feet trembled.
The rhythm that rose from my feet eventually shook my entire body.
Frank McComb, who they say is visiting Japan for the first time in eleven years.
I was overwhelmed with emotion to be able to see him perform.
On the way home, Frank's voice and the drums continued to shake my heart.
Even after getting into bed, the bright red T-shirt and the fingers sinking into the keys appeared again and again.
The voice that enveloped the space.
The vibration that traveled through the floor.
The scent of lavender and the sweetness of tiramisu.
Swayed by that lingering aftertaste, I quietly drifted off to sleep.
――――――――――
FRANK McCOMB
Member
Frank McComb (vo, key) / @frankmccomb
Anthony Cappeto (b) / @anthonycappeto
Yoran Vroom (ds) / @yoranvroom
BLUE NOTE PLACE
June 3, 2026
[2nd] OPEN: 19:45
LIVE START: 20:30
BLUE NOTE TOKYO
June 4, 2026 (Thu.)
#CreativeAwards2026 #EssayCategory #FoodCategory #FrankMcComb #FrankMcComb #AnthonyCappeto
#YoranVroom #BLUENOTE PLACE #BLUENOTETOKYO