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| Alexander von Schlippenbach and Paal Nilssen-Love |
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| Das B |
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| Marta Warelis and Maria Portugal |
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| Alexander von Schlippenbach and Paal Nilssen-Love |
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| Das B |
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| Marta Warelis and Maria Portugal |
Guitar in jazz. A strange beast, with which we had some issues coming to terms for a long time. In "traditional" jazz (with all the limitations of that adjective, but you get it), it passed us by almost unnoticed. Sure, Django Reinhardt, Wes Montgomery, Charlie Christian et al: legends to whom we bow, but, to be honest, they slipped away without leaving any deep or meaningful trace. We’re sorry, respectfully sorry: our fault. Far more interesting is the contribution of guitars in Miles' electric turn, while the super virtuoso sounds of the likes of Pat Metheny or John Scofield left us emotionally inert. As soon as the instrument becomes edgy and menacing, it begins to win us over, Sonny Sharrock, James Blood Ulmer first, then Arto Lindsay, Thurston Moore, Jim O'Rourke, Bill Orcutt, Keiji Haino are the names. The sharper, the better. In our own actual Valhalla, that sees Derek Bailey as the Supreme Odin, recently entered (becoming a sick obsession) Masayuki Takayanagi, a guilty belated epiphany of ours, and guitars as improper weapons take us with the guard down, unable to offer any resistance.
The current free/improv scene is quite a golden vein, offering guitars for every taste, just head over to the dedicated section of our forum and you could dig in a six-string bonanza until your hands bleed. With Ava Mendoza, whatever the line-up on the field (alone, collaborations, groups), the turntable spins by itself and the moment to quit declaring our boundless love for her, as we did in previous reviews, is still far away. The reason? Very simple: it could be in disguise of country, metal or noise but she's got THE blues. We're obviously talking about the dirty, kind-of-black, hooch-flavored one that inhabits the rosters of Fat Possum and In The Red Records, the spleen of Jeffrey Lee Pierce, the fury of Nick Cave's, pre-Gucci loafers, Birthday Party, the desperation of Alan Vega's solo albums or the hyper saturated textures of Mick Collins’ bands. Did you say Attitude? Ava not only has it, but she proved, with the astonishing Mama Killa project, to be able to cross the Shadow Line, to venture into the Heart of Darkness, coming back to tell all about it. Natural. Gifted.
The new album, recorded live in Antwerp, Madison, Chicago and Firenze, features the Brooklyn-based musician reinterpreting seven songs from her "New Spell" and "Circular Train" records, along with a new composition, "Mama Cocha”. The recipe is the one we know and love: fuzz, harmonic progressions, solos and distortions are the facets of a virtuosic prism that's never self-referential or an end in itself, but always in service of the Ultimate Ideal: the Blues. The "togetherness" side of the work sees Ava joined by Maestro Hamid Drake, adding his sparse yet extraordinary polyrhythms on four tracks, demonstrating once more, that, as Voltaire said, "les grands esprits se rencontrent." Another solid hit from Phil Freeman's label, whose production portfolio is beginning to take on a truly interesting and relevant profile: long may the Ambulance burn.
These are liner notes by Stef Gijssels for two recent albums by Swedish saxophonist and composer Martin Küchen, first with Angles 4, second for his solo album.
Listening to Angles 4 here and now, in 2026, feels like a warm
homecoming. The album is filled with the grand themes that have resonated
throughout the various ensembles over the years, from the Martin Küchen Trio and
Angles 6 to Angles 9 and All Included. The quartet knows this material by heart,
having performed these compositions for decades. I would almost call them their
personal standards: they sound deeply familiar, yet they retain the same power
and vigour as they must have had at their very first performances—perhaps now
with even greater maturity, intensity and fierceness.
The smaller
quartet format gives the musicians more room to explore, express and expand,
particularly across the relatively long tracks, most of which run for seven or
eight minutes. There is a sense of space in the arrangements, but never a loss
of urgency.
The music digs deep into the history of jazz, drawing on
the spirit of Mingus and Coltrane, while at times reaching even further back
into the history of sound itself—and into the collective emotions of people
living through dire times: war, oppression and other horrors. Here, music
becomes both a source of comfort and a force of liberation.
Whatever
the size of the ensemble, this music remains as infectious as ever.
Listen
and download from
Bandcamp
Brutal sounds. Heart-rending, bleak. Gut-wrenching and abrasive. Sorrowful, dark, mournful, ominous. One musician generating a torrent of expression through three instruments played at once: sopranino saxophone, two horizontal hand drums, along with cymbals, metal plates, and bowls.
We know Martin Küchen from his work with the Angles ensemble—music that unfolds in epic arcs, sweeping themes that speak to a collective emotional space. This is the opposite. Here the music is stripped down to brutal poetry: visceral, concise, unadorned. Short, explosive statements. Limited means used to build intense dramatic pressure. Küchen’s anger at the state of the world is well known, and here it finds direct form in pounding drums and the wailing saxophone. Sound bursts collide and fracture, channeling raw fury.
The opening track, “Chase The Demons Out,” reflects a world drifting toward totalitarianism. Its title echoes a phrase from 1970s Chinese state media calling to “sweep away all demons”—to eliminate those who think differently. The theme feels disturbingly current as war again ravages the Middle East, where rockets, aircraft, and attack drones serve the ambitions of those in power.
The second piece, “Mach kein Krach” (“stop making noise”), recalls Küchen’s father telling him to quiet down as a child—something his son clearly had no intention of doing. The message is the opposite of silence: make your voice heard. Refuse passivity. Rebel, resist, speak up. Make noise.
The third piece, “Mit Ach und Krach,” uses a German expression describing something achieved with great difficulty—through blood, sweat, and tears. Speaking out and resisting the present state of affairs demands exactly that kind of effort.
Taken together, the three brief pieces form a suite: anger at the world, inner rebellion, and the search for the energy to act.
Every saxophone cry, every drum strike carries elemental emotion—horror, pain, rejection, fear—pushed forward by outrage, anger, disgust, and indignation. These forces build toward movement: to resist, to act, to stand together. It will take effort. It will take blood, sweat, and tears.
Once again, Küchen shows his artistic clarity. The music is raw, brutal,
uncompromising—and authentic.
The world needs this."
Listen
and download from
Bandcamp
There’s nothing so startling as the appearance of a vintage concert tape, in this case some 47 years old, that might illumine your view of a musician’s oeuvre, even a slight shift in focus counting for much. Such is the case with the release of Cecil Taylor’s performance from a New Mexico concert in 1979. Part of the concert was lost, but on the evidence heard here, Taylor was at the helm of one of the finest groups he would ever lead, a relatively unusual quintet that consisted of alto saxophonist Jimmy Lyons (with Andrew Cyrille, one of Taylor’s greatest collaborators), drummer Jerome Cooper and two string players, the violinist Ramsay Ameen and Alan Silva, here playing cello as well as his usual bass.
Among extant releases, the two-LP set bears some resemblance, at least in personnel, to It Is in the Brewing Luminous, recorded in 1980 at New York’s Fat Tuesday’s, which had the additional inclusion of drummer Sunny Murray in the band and Alan Silva playing bass, exclusively. His cello playing here is an essential element, especially for the way in which it combines with Ameen’s violin. In a sense, the Albuquerque quintet is a larger band than the New York sextet, in terms of what the opening up of the soundscape makes possible.
Perhaps the most notable thing about the Albuquerque recording is the level of subtle and evolving detail achieved by the quintet and its capture in the extraordinary recording job done by Mike Wolff, who was regularly responsible for recording the New Mexico Symphony Orchestra. The University of New Mexico’s Steinway was also borrowed for the performance, giving Taylor a piano appropriate to his special energies. The unusual clarity with which Ameen is heard here gives the performance some of its special significance, particularly in the way that his contribution combines with Silva’s cello in a virtual string section. Jerome Cooper, too, is less polyrhythmic, less aggressive than his predecessor, Andrew Cyrille, who had been the perfect complement in the trio with Taylor and Lyons.
What is highlighted here is the omni-directionality of Taylor’s music, from his thorough absorption of Western “classical” music as well as the jazz tradition and the general legacy of African music in America. Here those elements are present both individually and in Taylor’s special syntheses, those combined and foregrounded strings every bit as African as they are European.
Side C is given over to one of Taylor’s trance rituals, a summoning of spirits -- equivalent perhaps to speaking in tongues -- inspired and unknowable language accompanied by incidental phrases from the instruments, random sounds and Taylor’s piano musings, now enacted directly on the instrument’s strings, all an essential component of the complexity and mystery of Taylor’s far-reaching art.
The music that continues on side D is particularly spacious, opening up with Cooper’s spare percussion and the lyrical motifs of Ameen, Lyons and Taylor, evolving and flowering, still spacious yet dense with high speed content – some of Taylor’s most brilliant moments on record, the other instruments lifted skyward, until it concludes with Taylor’s gravelly equivalent of speaking in tongues, the very practice akin to the untranslatability of Taylor’s complex, contrapuntal, poly-vocal band music and the extrapolating lines and abstract organizing figures with which he guides the music from his piano keyboard.
Live at the KiMo Theater is a special event, reasserting an especially creative and relatively neglected period in Taylor’s career.
Live at the KiMo Theater will be released on October 16th, but you can listen to a track and pre-order now.
Of the many things that make albums featuring John Butcher unique, I believe the most outstanding characteristic is not that he likes to play at unusual venues (caves, water reservoirs, oil tanks…), but rather the fact that every ensemble he plays with is so diverse and incomparable that it allows the listener to hear many different facets of his playing. In an interview with Brad Rose, Butcher said that when improvising, he likes to hear the musician behind the instrument, though it’s not important to him to hear the musicians putting themselves in the spotlight - on the contrary, he tends to seek subtlety. In general, he looks for musicians who have already developed a personal musical style and their own way of playing - something that truly feels like their own. It is therefore almost inevitable that the various ensembles he selects based on these criteria will possess a unique dynamic and sonic world.
One of last year’s best albums was RARE, John Butcher’s duo with French pianist Sophie Agnel, with whom he had been playing quite frequently over the last few years. I especially liked their improvisational rigor and the relaxed, varied, and aleatoric moments. On RARE, I considered the pauses in the music to be the central element; on foams & mesh, it’s different, mainly due to Pascal Niggenkemper (bass) and StÃ¥le Liavik Solberg (drums), because the two of them fill those gaps. Solberg, with whom Butcher has played since 2015 in many kinds of combinations, permeates the improvisation with his bone-dry and at times almost esoteric style, for example when he uses extended materials (especially in the quiet passages of the first track). This is complemented by Agnel’s trills, which she plays from inside the piano. Butcher contributes very delicate bird calls here, while Niggenkemper subtly saws at the very low strings of his bass. It feels as though one is listening to the goings-on in the courtyard of a Tibetan monastery. This can be heard around the 20-mark of the first, significantly longer improvisation on foam & mesh. Such passages contrast with highly expressive moments, in which the rhythm section performs in a demanding and driving manner, but Butcher remains unflappable and employs his entire repertoire - guttural sounds, chirps, tremolos, circular breathing, serial/repetitive patterns, etc. - with casual ease. Only at the end of the track Agnel’s clusters and crescendos, Niggenkemper’s alienated drones and Solberg’s accentuated interceptions tempt him into vibrato-heavy phrases.
The album was recorded at the artacts festival in St. Johann/Austria in 2024 and in the first part of the encore the musicians showcase extended playing techniques, with Niggenkemper and Agnel holding the improvisation together by a somber drone. Then the bass and piano shift imperceptibly into their normal registers, and the piece grows denser, builds in intensity, becoming louder and more concentrated - like a tornado - before dissolving perfectly.
foam & mesh is an extraordinary album, the band is a superb match. They have played only three concerts so far and I think I’m not the only one who hopes that there will be more to come.
foam & mesh is available as a CD and as a download.
You can buy and listen to the album on the label’s website: https://sluchaj.bandcamp.com/album/foam-mesh
“When you meet a man who is broken, pick him up and carry him. When you meet a woman who’s broken, put her all into your arms. Cause we don’t know where we come from … we don’t know where we are.”
-Laurie Anderson
Back in college in the early 80’s, my musical tastes careened wildly between the unchecked rage of Dead Kennedys and Black Flag and the deep melancholy of The Cure and Joy Division. (There was an occasional detour to the land of the Talking Heads.) Then my friends and I discovered Laurie Anderson’s Big Science . And everything changed. I think I was the one that found it and that was only because there was a song called Let X=X, which appealed to my math brain. Our first reaction was bewilderment. “What?? She no longer loves the color of my sweaters??!!? Huh??” But we quickly realized this was something new that we needed to absorb. It showed us that we could respond to all the grotesque absurdity of the world with something other than anger or sadness, that it could be met with surrealism and a sense of humor and that we could retain our humanity.
We thought about some of the lyrics. On the title track, there’s a lyric:
“I think we should put some mountains here.
Otherwise what are the characters going to fall off of?”
The song is all about how the oligarchs and huge corporations are reshaping the world to their will. They’re building shopping malls and freeways and new sports centres and drive-in banks. They’re reshaping everything for their own self-aggrandisement to the extent that we’re no more than characters in their play, and they even get to decide how we die. We realized this was the same sentiment that Jello Biafra was expressing in so many Dead Kennedys lyrics, just from an entirely different approach.
The music was unlike anything we had ever heard before, full of violins, saxophones, marimbas and organs. And was that a wolf? It was beautiful and then jarring at a moment’s notice. Laurie’s voice could sound quite soothing or, when she uses voice processing, terrifying.
A few years later, I discovered jazz, especially free jazz and it became an obsession which has lasted to this day. It eventually led me to The Free Jazz Collective. So when I discovered that Laurie was releasing a live album with a jazz band and an excellent one at that, I was extremely excited. The band is Sexmob, consisting of Steven Bernstein and Briggan Krauss on brass, Kenny Wollesen on drums, Douglas Wieselman on winds and guitar, and Tony Scherr on bass. They have an extensive discography which is well worth checking out. They like covering pop songs, and giving them an avant-garde jazz twist. I especially love Kenny Wolleson who I’ve seen perform many times, frequently in John Zorn projects.
The album, called Let X=X (Live), is full of the classics that every Laurie Anderson fan knows note for note and lyric for lyric, From The Air, O Superman, Let X=X, It Tango, Gravity’s Angel, Only An Expert , and on and on. But there’s new music to be found here as well. Church of Panic begins with a commentary on sadness and suicide and then turns on a dime and is funky as hell. There are lovely instrumental pieces like Looking At The Mo on. There’s an extremely funny (and at the same time sad) audience participation moment on Teachers which I won’t spoil. Junior Dad , from Lou Reed’s collaboration with Metallica, features Reed’s vocals with beautiful violin from Laurie.
There is quite a bit of sadness on this album at the state of the world and at all of the personal loss so many have suffered lately, but there is also an ember of hope to be found. It’s a hope that humanity might someday soon rediscover its compassion and decency.
It’s a sky-blue sky.
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| Gebhard Ullman’s Hemisphere 4 PLUS (biergarten stage) |
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| OM (main stage) |
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| Wanja Slavin (sitting far right) (church) |
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| Impro-Concert: Tony Buck, Matthias Mueller, Taito Saito (workshop) |
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| Aki Takase, Robert Landfermann, Christian Lillinger. (c) Cristina Marx/Photomusix |
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| Darius Jones & Otomo Yoshihide Quartet. (c) Cristina Marx/Photomusix |
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| Have You Ever Been Experienced. (c) Cristina Marx/Photomusix |
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| Konradism. (c) Cristina Marx/Photomusix |
Of course, this trio is a supergroup, like so many of pianist Vijay Iyer’s latest ensembles.
Percussionist Dafnis Prieto may be less well-known, but the now 82-year-old saxophonist and flutist Henry Threadgill is all the more so. Despite his age, he has been more productive and acclaimed than ever. He won the Pulitzer Prize for his most important work of the past 15 years, In for a Penny, In for a Pound (Zooid; 2015). It’s possibly the most consistent realization of Threadgill’s compositional system, in which he works with predetermined interval sequences that provide the musicians with a harmonic and melodic framework within which they are also expected to improvise - that is, improvisation itself becomes part of a highly complex composition. What’s fascinating about this is that the music initially seems almost chaotic, but is in fact organized with extraordinary precision. As intellectually fascinating as this music is on the one hand, it has also faced criticism on the other hand, that the whole thing is too contrived and too lifeless, too close to new classical avant-garde music. That kind of criticism can certainly not applied to “Fifteen”.
The album title refers to the number of years that have passed since this trio first came together at a benefit event for the New York Jazz Gallery. Here, all three compose and improvise; recurring melodic patterns are readily - even eagerly - embraced, bringing the music closer to mainstream jazz than to free jazz. This is primarily due to Dafnis Prieto’s Cuban influences and his light, elastic groove, which remains free and almost impossible to count. This is perhaps most clearly evident in “I Want a Map”, which comes across more like a rock song, with Threadgill’s saxophone initially taking up the melody, which is developed by the piano and built up relatively straightforwardly by the drums to a crescendo. Rarely has Threadgill sounded so accessible; he uses a fair amount of growl, and his clear sound from the Air years is barely recognizable. But he wouldn’t be Henry Threadgill if he didn’t gradually incorporate small atonal elements and offbeat shifts that disrupt the piece’s static structure.
Things get significantly wilder on “Fire City“, then. Prieto plays less to the beat. Here, he actually acts more like a free jazz drummer. Iyer, too, plays fewer tonal harmonies, and Threadgill’s sound is indeed clearer and more abstract on this track. The piece is denser, less airy than others on the album, but perhaps that’s precisely what makes it the most exciting, as it gallops off in different directions several times without ever losing its way.
The most unusual track is the album’s finale, “On the Way”. Here, the different compositional and improvisational logics stand in direct contrast to one another: Henry Threadgill’s carefully balanced vocabulary meets the rhythmic power and temporal sophistication of Iyer and Prieto, opening up spaces for dense ensemble polyrhythms and incisive solo passages. At times, you can literally tap your foot along - you almost feel like dancing. Who would ever have expected that from an album featuring Henry Threadgill?
This is definitely one of the albums that will appear on many year-end charts.
Fifteen is available on vinyl, as a CD and as a download. You can listen to it and buy it on Vijay Iyer’s bandcamp site:
On Sundays, we like to take the opportunity to share something aside from an album review, like interviews we've conducted or videos that we have found and enjoyed, and sometimes, something entirely different, like liner notes. The following notes, written by Paul Acquaro, accompany the adventurous duo release Treasures Within by Harri Sjöström and Guilherme Rodrigues.
This album is the second document of the duo following The Treasures Are. The Treasures Within is comprised of three encounters in the studio and live starting in 2019 at Munich's Artoxin Gallery followed by the Berlin locations Toolbox Gallery in 2021 and Berlin Room in 2022.
By Paul Acquaro
What makes musical chemistry? What is it that make some combinations
simply work? While there are many examples like Paul and John, Bennink
and Brotzmann, and Parker and Drake to draw on, it also seems that
saxophonist Harri Sjöström and cellist Guilherme Rodrigues have some insights into this phenomenon as well.
Here, it begins with creaky bow strokes on the cello to which squeaky
tones from a soprano saxophone are carefully inserted. It lasts only a
minute before a reset, the next track and a new route chosen, but in
those previous few seconds one could hear a lot about a musical
relationship. There is no hesitancy, no time needed to discuss and
calibrate, it is a meeting of mutually sympathetic musical minds.
Rodrigues explains, "for me the way Harri approaches the saxophone gets
pretty close, imagination wise, to my imaginarium. And because of that,
we play well together intuitively."
The next track begins with a rather classical sounding approach and then
quickly becomes an intertwining of melodic strands that are in some
ways hard to differentiate, but thrive on an inherent contrast.
Rodrigues continues, "both instruments have colors that naturally match
and therefore, taken together, the result of our music becomes
treasured!"
Indeed, by the time we are at track 3, which happens quickly with these
miniatures, the melodic ideas have taken a different turn. Sjöström is
bouncing around a delicate melodic idea while Rodrigues provides
textural accents. Suddenly, we are at track 4 and now the cello is
responsible for the melodic twists while the saxophone finds the perfect
points to interject.
Sjöström also gives some hints as to why this pairing works so well, "I
think we both share a strong melodic instinct, even within freely
improvised music. There is a constant dialogue between us, and I always
feel Guilherme is incredibly alert to every subtle change in the music."
So, what is it about these subtle changes that are so powerful? Well,
for one, the conversation is always diverting course. Like on track 5,
which suddenly turns inwards, darker hues and longer tones fill the
space. Sjöström simply says, "we also enjoy strong contrasts and often
abrupt changes and aren't afraid to move between intimacy and
intensity."
< Please see Bandcamp to read the rest of the notes and listen to the music >
Free = liberated from social, historical, psychological and musical constraints
Jazz = improvised music for heart, body and mind