Joel Futterman Solo and Duo

By Paul Acquaro

It's a little bit like finally going to that restaurant, the one that you have known about for awhile, maybe it's just down the block from where you live and have walked by countless times and always thinking, "hmm, should really go there." Then, one day you do and it's excellent, leaving you to wonder what took so long? 

 

The music of pianist Joel Futterman has been something like that for me. I knew the name but not the music, however, this has changed. My experience began with the two releases Absorb and Reflective from late last year featuring this pianist playing solo and followed by Transcendent Universe, a duo recording with bassist William Parker. Let's dig in...

Joel Futterman - Reflective (Squidnote, 2025) 

Where to begin with this feast? Perhaps Reflective offers a choice entry point, an appetizer in some sense with its set of short improvisations, however, be warned, it is rich enough to be served as a main course. 

 

Reflective is essentially a quiet album. It is sparsely played and there seems to be deliberate attention given to each note's spacing, rather than an approach with speed and density, everything feels carefully considered and played with careful attention. Within the range of the albums 19 short tracks, the genres of modern, classical and free jazz mix generously.

 

The first track establish the spaciousness and the next few follow through in this manner, punctuating the reflective, flowing improvisations with bright bursts notes, like for example the fourth track which ends with in an energetic melodic charge. Track five, on the the other hand, swings back to the open spaces, but now bright chords are placed gently next to each other, setting the stage for the next expressive burst. 

 

An aptly titled set of improvisations that whets the appetite for more.  

 

Joel Futterman - Absorb (Squidnote, 2025) 

Absorb stands like a counter argument to Reflective. Comprised of four longer tracks, the focus shifts away from the very deliberate passages with the distances of the notes carefully measured to one where texture and tempo take center stage. 

 

'Absorb Part 1,' the longest track at just shy of a half-hour begins with a strong, stately proclamation and then quickly picks up in tempo. Futterman's right hand plays an ever expanding set of quick, darting phrases while the left hand keeps the melody it from flying off the keyboard. Half way through the track, there are crashes of notes, atonal splashes, in the midst of the relentless piece providing a center point for the somewhat symmetrical second half.

 

The second track, which is just slightly shorter at 23 minutes, also begins with a distinctive statement and then rapidly unfolds with quick stabbing notes whose intensity rapidly grows. Tonal clusters collide as rhythmic motion pushes and pulls the track the along. There is again a relentlessness to the piece, keeping the energy high and the listener engaged.

 

Tracks three and four, together just over 20 minutes, add up to the last third of the album, and both carry on with the general approach that has been set and introduce a final contrast. Again starting with a bold statement, track three erupts into a flurry of melody and counter-melody, giving way to some classic jazz harmony towards the end. The final track, however, breaks the mold, beginning with a rapid set of notes and then opening up to more spacious passages. Overall, the pieces seem more compositionally minded than on Reflective.

 

Joel Futterman and William Parker - Transcendent Universe (Burning Ambulance, 2026) 

Although Cecil Taylor’s name has so far not entered the picture, his presence inevitably looms over this music - particularly in the way both pianists use rapid arpeggios and splintered atonal chord clusters as expressive devices. Their shared intensity at the piano is mirrored in another common thread: their musical partners. Futterman worked with longtime Taylor collaborator Jimmy Lyons in the 1980s, as well as with bassist William Parker, who himself spent many years associated with Taylor. On Transcendent Universe - a Futterman/Parker duo released on Taylor biographer Phil Freeman’s Burning Ambulance label - the two draw on these long-running connection with striking clarity.

 

Presented in three variable length tracks, 'Transcendent Universe Part 1' kicks off the album with a musical punch. Parker's bowed bass squeaks abrasively over a sustained chord from Futterman. Then, the two engage in a rapid chase. The music tumbles through the speakers like a fight scene in a movie that destroys everything thing in its path. Occasional legato passages help add contrast and build tension. Both hold their own, Parker plucking at the strings with a audible physical force and Futterman generating vibrant explosions of tone. After five minutes or so they both pull back, catch their musical breath (and who knows, maybe actual breath as well as this was a live, first-take, no overdubs recording), and begin building the tension anew with percussive extended techniques from the bass and laser focused passages from the piano. 

 

The music simply breathes - melodically, harmonically and rhythmically. While completely improvised, the intense passages give way at times to endearingly melodic moments that are kept from becoming to sweet through dissonance and rapidly morphing musical ideas. Sometimes voices can be heard, the musicians singing their ideas, but it is not enervating like a Keith Jarrett recording, rather it provides a glimpse into the musical headspace, giving the music a charge of live energy.

 

Parker is back with the bow at around the 18-minute mark in the track and he's pulling the sound tightly together. Futterman responds with a rapidly repeating figure, the two are locked-in, which is a state that permeates the recording. While it's temping to do a play-by-play analysis of the music, this is only a third of the way into the recording!

 

Transcendent Universe keeps unfolding, recombining, and surprising, ultimately emerging as a portrait of two musicians leaning into risk, density, and lyricism. What begins as a torrent of sound becomes a dialogue, then a meditation, then another eruption. By the time the final gestures fade, the lasting impression is not just intensity but connection. And in that sense, we come back to Taylor’s presence, which is expressed as a continuation of his musical legacy, audible in the high‑level interaction and uncompromising musical expression. Futterman and Parker's music extends the space he carved and creates music that feels both rooted in precedence and utterly new.

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Nolan Hildebrand – Noise Trip Explosion (Redshift Records, 2026)

By Nick Ostrum

As the title indicates, Noise Trip Explosion is intense. I am tempted to label it unrelenting or something of the sort, but it does not quite reach that intensity of harsh noise, at least for extended stretches. Rather, the noise on this trip is glitchy, it comes in starts and stops, and Nolan Hildebrand's mixer feedback and live electronics are complemented by saxophones, violins pianos, guitars and percussion. Notably, it is also composed through a series of sound inputs and generative graphic scores that leave ample room for intermittent relenting and pivots. (For more on the set-up, loops, and feedback that produce the graphic scores and the musicians’ interactions with them, see the liner notes.)

Rather, Nosie Trip Explosion is diverse in sound and personnel. Hildebrand occupies the roles of musician and composer, and is joined by a coterie of musicians, whose own backgrounds run from contemporary classical to jazz and free jazz to abandoned warehouse micro-noise. Hildebrand himself is even absent on the surprisingly open but still dark Raw Data Speed Demons, where Roan Ma deploys both electronics and violin, and the final summative track DADA BENDER, which is a percussion sextet “with fixed media.”

Having listened to a lot of noise recordings that fall short, sometimes in ways I cannot quite put my finger on, I can vouch for Noise Trips Explosion. Hildebrand is never just making noise, as if anyone really can outside of some predetermined system. Rather, he acknowledges, constructs, analyzes, and reconstructs his choice (sometimes generated in and adaptive in real-time) system to great effect and clamor. What is more, some of the strongest tracks, such as knurl cracked green and the 16+-minute portals II (everywhere and everything right now) (which must be a nod to Everything, Everywhere, All at Once), stray from delight in sheer electro-noise especially through the more traditional instrumentation of the rest of the crew. Portals II in particular draws noise into harsh free jazz and vice versa with real aplomb. DADA BENDER is also a standout in its collision of percussion and beats with glitched circuitry and cartoon effects that amalgamate into a techno-dystopian march of shrapnel, laser sounds, and other sonic dregs, and scraps of various live percussion to prod it along. This particular bender, and this entire sonic trip, is well worth the abandon.

A side-note on the artwork: it is a glitchy and colorful throwback to earlier days of home computer/internet abstractions and fits the deceptively scrappy aesthetic of the album perfectly.

Noise Trip Explosion is available on CD and as a download via bandcamp:

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bloodcog - musics for a savage planet & planete sauvage *****

bloodcog - musics for a savage planet (whi music 2026) 

bloodcog - planete sauvage (whi 2026)

By Gary Chapin 

bloodcog is Phil Hargreaves on woodwinds/EWI, Richard Harding on Chapman Stick and ambiences, Richard Harrison on drums and objects, Fran Bass on electric bass, and Pete Smyth, analog electronics. On these recordings they engage in a venerable tradition of improvising a soundtrack over the film, Planete Sauvage (Fantastic Planet), a 1973 science fiction masterpiece of animation and disquiet.

There’s ample precedent for this. James P. Johnson, Fats Waller, and Count Basie played for the original — venerable — silent pics. Miles Davis recorded his improv for the film Ascenseur pour l'échafaud. Bill Frisell played over (or behind?) Buster Keaton films. Marc Ribot took a spin.

The bloodcog quintet provides a mixture of non-idiomatic free music, electronica, musique concrete, found sound, and noise that could be industrially deafening or could be a close recording of a bug chewing loudly on a leaf. Hargreaves’s winds sketch a story — or character or scene — but still the whole thing seems wonderfully, drivingly abstractly expressionist, a musical experience that references nothing, that makes allusions to nothing.

Or so it seems.

The two albums take the music from the recording sessions and present it to us in two different ways. Planete Sauvage (Improvised Soundtrack) is the OST recording. Seventy minutes of music improvised directly to the film. Savage Planet takes the material from the two takes and curates chunks of it into 13 distinct, self-contained tracks. There is some music on Savage Planet that is not on Planete Sauvage, and vice versa, and I was surprised that this mildest of curation and editing created a genuinely different listening experience for each. Maybe it was just the pauses between tracks for breath. But no, the two are related, of course. The Venn Diagram has a good amount of overlap, but also a good amount of distinction.

A third way to listen to the soundtrack is to watch the film with the soundtrack. It’s a genuinely transformational experience — both because the music and film are each so good, and together even better, and because the exercise of hearing this music in three ways provides hypnotically fascinating insight into how music and images can so profoundly change each other. Sadly, you cannot watch the film because there’s a copyright dispute going on. This is what is known in the industry as A DRAG!

Each album is great, and the entire project is something you can really immerse yourself into. Five stars!

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Camila Nebbia and Chris Corsano - Six or Seven Ways Towards Becoming Undone (Relative Pitch Records, 2026)

By Brian Earley

 

"When you hear music, after it's over, it's gone, in the air. You can never capture it again." These, as many readers of the Free Jazz Blog will know, are the famous final words of Eric Dolphy’s mythical work, Last Date . While other recordings have come to light over the years, in many ways these also serve as the final words of Dolphy’s life, as he died a mere 27 days after Last Date’s recording. 

 

I evoke Dolphy’s words here because of the grabbing and somewhat cryptic title of the first album recorded together by saxophonist Camila Nebbia and drummer Chris Corsano. Last Date was a functional title; it provided listeners with useful information about the record they were to hear, and it held weight. It most certainly was intentional.

 

As I listened to Six or Seven Ways Towards Becoming Undone I found myself returning again and again to this title. What the hell does it mean? Was I chasing specters, pumping meaning into a mere throw away phrase by Corsano or Nebbia? But I also kept returning to Dolphy’s words.

 

Music, afterall, can become undone, and as it turns out, Nebbia and Corsano do a masterful job of achieving this in each piece. The duo make a tacit pact with their listeners as each song opens, only to wipe away expectations completely by midsong. For example, the album opens with a burner: “Shattered Things.” Nebbia slides around her instrument’s keys like an oiled snake as Corsano works urgently on cymbals and snare. By the one minute mark, the piece feels like it wants to reach through the ceiling as Nebbia holds long notes with multiphonics and screeches in death-ray like effects, roiling up and up and up as Corsano opens ringing crashes on the ride cymbals and drops explosions on the toms. It is as though Rashied Ali were playing with John Coltrane AND Pharoah Sanders at the same time on Interstellar Space.

 

The kinetic maelstrom continues, but somewhere around the seven minute mark, I realized that the music had furtively gone quiet. Nebbia leaves tons of space and silence and Corsano softly swipes the high hats or bows other cymbals. And, by 7:50 the piece has entered total silence. It must be over, I thought. But the two musicians continue extemporaneously creating overtones and whistles and shimmering effects for over three more minutes. The piece becomes undone, but the two recreate new expectations well before the work finishes.

 

This coming undone happens again and again on this album. Well, seven times, since there are seven total songs. Although the final track, “Unadorned/Never Better,” only sort of follows this approach, remaining largely atmospheric and meditative, with Corsano playing what sounds like a gong or a sheet of metal and Nebbia whispering overtones. At times it becomes almost impossible to tell if I was hearing a saxophone or a drum kit, as the sounds whistle and ring out. This work serves as an entirely new direction for the album as a whole, and in that sense, serves another method of becoming undone. So, let’s call it six or seven times, or ways, of becoming undone.

 

I want to be clear, however, that Nebbia and Corsano do not repeat one pattern the entire way through the first six tracks. While, “Shattered Things,” and the following pieces “Cast-A-Spell,” and “Sunken House” all possess Interstellar Spaceintensity and searching at times, the songs move surprisingly into sonic territory I did not anticipate. My favorite work is a piece titled “Dead of Night.” The fourth of the seven works on the album subverts expectations by opening with the saxophonist playing her horn whispery, airy, and breathy. Corsano adds accents with sticks and rolls with what sound like his fingers. This song retains its quiet openness, and, in this way, the undoneness isthis song. The piece is seductive, however, and plays with expectations as the two appear to build intensity, only to continue searching through the silence. But, by the 5:40 mark Nebbia’s horn is screaming with more volume than at any other time on the record.

 

“A Paper Cut in Smoke” sees Nebbia both whispering and honking her instrument. Corsano even nearly plays a groove a quarter of the way in. “Nothing is Fixed” remains a highlight of the album, and works mysteriously and lyrically. I swear at times I hear Ben Webster blowing breathy ballads on this tune.

Six or Seven Ways Towards Becoming Undone is a masterpiece that leaves me, at least, asking questions about impermanence. All things, as the opening work states, may be shattered, and nothing may be fixed, but we strut and fret our way through paper cuts in smoke not to signify nothing, but to be “Never Better.” All songs must become undone as they fade and end, but the next adventure is waiting to bloom sonically somewhere from the silence. 

 

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Summer Bummer in Focus

At the end of this summer, the Free Jazz Blog will be heading to Antwerp to check out the Summer Bummer festival. Held over the last weekend of August, it's been on our 'bucket list' of festivals over the past few years as its reputation has leaked across the ethers. Today, we present an interview with programmer Koen Vandenhoudt, about the festival's origin and concept ... but first a short impression of event from the festival itself:

Paul Acquaro: How did the very first edition of the festival come into being?

Koen Vandenhoudt: The first edition of Summer Bummer came into being as the celebration of 25 years of Freakscene, my radio show at Antwerp’s Radio Centraal, so originally it was Freakscene’s Summer Bummer. But even then it was a combined effort of music enthusiasts, supportive artists and a lot of volunteers that made and still make it happen.

PA: What do you think distinguishes your festival from others in Europe?

KV: We work purely by content, and though we pioneer many artists and give chances to lesser known and emerging artists, we go less by trends or commercial choices. At Summer Bummer we often present artists in constellations that have never happened before or that are brand new. That’s super exciting but hard to promote. People want the hear and see things before hand. So to see people coming from all over the world to witness this musical adventure, gives us a good feeling. It’s a trust kind of thing built over the years.

Another important thing is that we never do overlaps. We use multiple stages but always make sure that people can see all the shows -- and very important, it’s a community thing, where people can hang out, meet the artists, participate in an installation, enjoy some nice homemade food or score some excellent records.

PA: What guides your programming choices from year to year?

KV: We would like to say the artists and the ever changing amazing music they make. The international network and knowledge we built from within our Sound in Motion organization - volunteers, professionals, artists and like minded organizations - over all the years is pretty vast. This means that from all over the world we are continuously fed with the ins and outs of the music world.

On top of that, we support musicians over the long term, from the early stages, where the artist is new and unknown, to the moment where the international stage starts noticing.

PA: How do you decide when a project is “right” for the festival?

KV: That’s a very subjective process and impossible to pin-point exactly. We sometimes set out a kind of wish list or some minor themes but this very often gets overruled by the sheer quality of surprising offers or by the fact that every day is a day of potential musical discovery. Being able to keep this flexibility, this room to manoeuvre is crucial...

PA: How do you balance presenting established artists with discovering new voices?

KV: Since the first Summer Bummer edition and also in our nomadic concert series, our Dropa House residencies and our Dropa Disc label, we always balanced the older generation with established artists and the up and coming generation. In an age where pioneers of improvised, adventurous and experimental music are rapidly forgotten and disappearing, it’s super important to stage these different generations together. Sometimes we can combine them, like Peter Brötzmann with Farida Amadou and Thurston Moore, or Cel Overberghe with Adia Vanheerentals and Ornella Noulet (60 years of age difference), and Joe McPhee with Mette Rasmussen and Dennis Tyfus is also a good intergenerational and genre defying example. 

And sometimes it’s exemplary of how the past is still more than relevant and moves into the future, like the trio of Barry Guy, Evan Parker, Paul Lytton or the historic duo of Fred Van Hove and Brötzmann. As said earlier we support musicians over the long term. Therefore some artists who are considered established these days still have a strong bond with Summer Bummer and Sound in Motion as an organization. Being able to show how these artists evolve is something very beautiful and exciting to witness. 

This year we have some beautiful examples of this with the world premiere of Rodrigo Amado, one of the hardest working reed players around, in a trio with the legendary bass player/icon Joëlle Léandre and the genre hopping genius drummer and electronics manipulator Gerald Cleaver, not a trio we requested but a proposal by the artists themselves. 

And what to say about one of the all time greats, Alexander von Schlippenbach, who will play this years Summer Bummer in a duo with phenomenal drummer and one of the most prominent representatives of the scene Paal Nilssen-Love, another request by the artists themselves and super exemplary of everything we stand for. And maybe the ultimate example of mixing up generations, gender, established and new artists is the passage at Summer Bummer in 2024 of Fire! Orchestra CBA and Fire! Orchestra CBA Youth. Mindblowing and very inspirational indeed.

PA: Are there artistic boundaries you intentionally avoid—or intentionally cross?

KV: Crossing artistic boundaries is inherent to the invited artists. Creating the platform to cross potential boundaries is the essence of Summer Bummer as a festival and to Sound in Motion as an organization. Just look at this years program and you know what we mean.

PA: What do you hope musicians experience here that they might not elsewhere?

KV: We once published a book with the title Food For Thought asking the artists how they experienced playing for Sound in Motion. One of the answers was: 'Feeling at home away from home.’

We like to think and hope that we are part of a handful of organizations and festivals that actually make this happen. That we can create the perfect environment for artists so they can focus 100% on their craft and artistry.

PA: What do you hope audiences experience here that they might not elsewhere?

KV: That there’s more than just mainstream music, forced upon everyone by mainstream media. And that, unlike mainstream channels will make you believe, it is not by definition difficult music. Even alternative channels struggle with this, shying away or being apologetic when music is abstract or noisy or not following known paths, as if there’s something wrong with it. No, embracing the unknown and enjoying it full on is the way to go.

PA: How do you see the festival’s role within the local music community?

KV: By showing the international dynamic of adventurous, improvised and experimental music and putting local musicians in the spotlights, introducing them first hand to international mainstays the Summer Bummer Festival tries to open international doors and opportunities.

PA: What is one thing that we didn't ask you that you think we should have?

KV: Sound in Motion is a nomadic organization, how does that relate to the concert series and the festival, and what's the importance of this within the field of improvised and experimental music and free jazz?

Sound in Motion uses a "nomadic" model that fundamentally shapes both its ongoing concert series and its annual festival. In fields like free jazz, improvised, and experimental music, this structural fluidity is not just a logistical choice—it is an aesthetic and philosophical necessity. Experimental and improvised music has historically suffered from being ghettoized either as purely academic or overly elitist. By refusing to stay inside a traditional, high-art institution, Sound in Motion actively de-academizes the genre. Bringing free jazz into a rock club one week, a community art space the next, or a cultural center the week after meets diverse audiences where they already are, embedding avant-garde sound into the community fabric.

Free jazz and free improvisation are built on the rejection of rigid frameworks, fixed charts, and predictable patterns. As a nomadic organization, Sound in Motion mirrors this artistically. When an organization is not connected to a physical building, it avoids the institutional inertia that forces venues to book "safe," commercially viable acts to cover high overhead costs.The organizational structure is as improvisational, adaptive, and high-risk as the music itself.

Because we must constantly collaborate with different physical venues and artistic spaces, Sound in Motion inherently builds an inter-connected infrastructure. We do not guard our audience; instead, we aim to cross-pollinate with the crowds of the partner venues. This creates a robust safety net for touring experimental musicians, making Belgium a vital European hub for artists who rely on agile, grassroots bookers to sustain their careers.

 Find out more about Summer Bummer here.

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Reza Askari Roar Quintet - xAYb v8v dYAx (Boomslang, 2026)

By Eyal Hareuveni

Reza Askari is a German (son of an Iranian-born father and a German mother), Cologne-based double bass player, composer, and educator (he is a professor of jazz bass at the University of Music Wuerzburg). His main band is the Roar trio - with clarinet and tenor sax player Stefan Karl Schmid and drummer Fabian Arend, augmented by vibes player Christopher Dell (who is also an educator who teaches architecture, urban design, and planning) in its last two albums - the self-titled album (QFTF, 2022) and Zen World Cables (Boomslang, 2024). The fifth album of Roar has a cryptic title, xAYb v8v dYAx, and the trio hosts Dell and Canadian trumpeter Lina Allemano (who splits her time between Toronto and Berlin). The album was recorded at Deutschlandfunk Kammermusiksaal in Cologne in April 2026.

Askari was mentored by German double bass players Dieter Manderscheid and Sebastian Gramss, but has played with other innovative double bass players like Barre Philips and Mark Dresser, and is well-versed in the free jazz legacy. But Askari sees the acoustic, unamplified Roar quintet as an improvising modern jazz band that adapts the logic of extreme metal bands with their asymmetrical or symmetrical cycles, collapsing forms, obsessive repetition, abrupt ruptures, and overwhelming physical force. He mentions metal bands like Meshuggah, Car Bomb, the Melvins, and the Dillinger Escape Plan that have a distinct architectural and emotional language that he wanted to transform into a detailed improvisational context.

xAYb v8v dYAx distills the powerful, physical, and constantly shapeshifting rhythmic patterns of metal bands into layered, more nuanced, and spacious yet still restless patterns. Askari, Dell, and Arend sketch complex, polyrhythmic architectures of a modern jazz trio or a chamber music ensemble, while they keep trading leading roles, often reaching surprising reductionist or atonal territories. Schmid and especially Allemano act as free agents who can add disruptive, sometimes even abrasive touches, and they always do so, but thoughtfully and poetically. Allemano’s economic interventions always charge the music with intense, emotional impact. This tension stimulates and enriches the unpredictable, often fragmented rhythmic dynamics of this quintet.

The Roar quintet does not seek to replicate the massive polyrhythmic patterns of Meshuggah or other metal bands, but captures the nervous, punkish rhythmic spirit of such bands. This quintet refuses to subscribe to the common, familiar order and instead challenges itself with shifting contrasts and structural chaos, always questioning, negotiating, negating, and reassembling Askari’s compositions. The code-like, palindromic titles of most pieces intensify that feeling. The outcome is thought-provoking, epic, and makes you return to the album again and again, not to decipher the cryptic titles, but to enjoy its free spirit.

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Flo Stoffner - Bijou (Relative Pitch, 2026)

By Martin Schray

Bijou is a French noun meaning “gem”, “treasure”, or “jewel”. It’s often used in a formal or figurative sense to describe something particularly beautiful, precious, or valuable, similar to the term “gem” when referring to a beautiful house or object. And it’s the title of Flo Stoffner’s new solo album - his first since Norman (Veto Records, 2014). However, it differs significantly from his earlier recordings.

Stoffner has been an integral part of the European free jazz scene for many years. As a guitarist, he ranks among the best in his field alongside Fred Frith, Olaf Rupp, and Noël Akchoté. No wonder - when John Butcher and Paul Lovens choose you as a collaborator it certainly counts as a mark of distinction.

After many duo and trio releases, Bijou highlights Stoffner’s unique style as if he were freed from the constraints of having to communicate with others. “This time, I made short recordings here and there over the course of several months. I deliberately wanted to immerse myself in this process over a longer period of time. For me, it was really all about the process itself, since I learned and discovered so much through this engagement with myself and the instrument. I also wanted to make the very quiet playing styles audible - the ones that are hard to hear when other musicians are playing along”, Stoffner emphasizes. Therefore, Bijou is more purist than the solo albums before, on which he used effects more frequently. On the one hand, it becomes clear that his technique is shaped by the British school, especially Derek Bailey and John Russell; on the other hand, his sound has clearly emancipated itself from his role models. Flageolets are at the center of his style, he contrasts them with hard, individually struck notes. The result is a very open sound, as if a wild ECM album was being played in a DIY style by a post-punk guitarist (e.g., Durutti Column’s Vini Reilly). You won’t find any ethereal lightness here, it’s more like being Nero in the first Matrix movie, dodging the ricochets, which come flying at you not in slow motion, but in real time. The whole thing sounds like a hailstorm descending on an abandoned Tibetan monastery where the chimes have been left behind. This becomes particularly clear in the album’s final track, “Bijou 6.” Amid all the roughness and harshness, a stark beauty flashes through consistently, so that despite its jarring contrasts in high and low flageolets, the piece is reminiscent of ambient music. But even though Stoffner seems to play with a greater sense of freedom, he still feels that it was a major challenge to play without a partner because it was sometimes difficult to get to the point. But don’t worry - on this wonderful gem, he has succeeded without exception.

Bijou is available on CD and as a download.

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Toc + Jean-Luc Guionnet - Quelques idées d’un vert incolore dorment furieusement (Tour de Bras, 2026) *****

By Richard Blute

“Colorless green ideas sleep furiously.”

-A sentence proposed by Noam Chomsky that he claimed was grammatically correct, but meaningless.

In 2015, I attended a concert of the band Kaze in a downtown Ottawa nightclub. Between sets, the musicians were selling CDs, surrounded by a crowd of fans. I picked out a few CDs and was still hunting around when I saw one I didn’t recognize. The print on the back was tiny, the room was dark and I didn’t have my reading glasses. But I figured I’d try my luck and purchased it without even knowing who was on the CD. It was TOC’s album Haircut and it became one of my favorite albums of 2015, and I’ve been an enormous fan of TOC ever since.

TOC consists of Peter Orins on drums, Ivann Cruz on guitar, and Jérémie Ternoy on keyboards. (Peter is also the drummer for Kaze.). On Haircut, TOC creates complex rhythms that are a delight to listen to, with Cruz in particular treating his guitar like a percussion instrument. The rhythms have an almost hypnotic effect which I found fascinating.

I very much liked the idea of adding a saxophone to TOC. They had previously collaborated with Dave Rempis on Closed For Safety Reasons, and that was a terrific album. On this album, Jean-Luc Guionnet proved to be an excellent choice for collaboration. FJC readers will recognize Guionnet from multiple reviews, including a 5 star review for his duo with Will Guthrie, his more recent album with Diatribes, as well as his work with the band The Ames Room.

This album consists of a single 33 minute track, and the band is more than capable of sustaining the listener’s attention throughout the piece. It begins subtly with TOC playing some textural percussive sounds inviting Guionnet to join them. As the rhythms build in complexity, Guionnet’s playing builds in urgency. He plays beautiful serpentine lines, but occasionally sounds like he’s calling out to the others as he plays a single screeching note. As the piece proceeds, Guionnet’s overblowing ratchets up the tension and TOC responds with their own intensity. The last 8 or 9 minutes of this album are pure, thundering bliss.

This is my album of the year so far.

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Fie Schouten, Vincent Courtois, Sofia Borges, Pierre Baux - Open Space (Relative Pitch, 2026)

By Hrayr Attarian

French writer and filmmaker Georges Perec was known for using wordplay to explore identity, loss, and grief. His 1974 book Espèces d'espaces is equal parts essay and prose poetry, exploring the concept of space from an individual bed to the universe. It also serves as an inspiration for one of the most intriguing albums of 2026, Open Space.

On it, veteran French actor Pierre Baux eloquently recites Perec’s writing, and a trio spontaneously creates music inspired by it.

The album opens with “SPACE”. French cellist Vincent Courtois plays muscular refrains, off of which Dutch clarinetist Fie Schouten bounces her plaintive lines. Portuguese drummer Sofia Borges provides the percolating cadence that drives the haunting melody, which not only echoes the essay's words but also goes beyond them. Thus it forms a lyrical fusion of two forms of expression

A cinematic ambiance permeates the entire recording. For instance, on “The Bed and The Room” Courtois and Schouten engage in a tense duet that shows influences of Western classical music. Borges’ crashing cymbals, chiming bells, and rustling brushes add to the mysticism.

The three musicians demonstrate sublime camaraderie, with the focus primarily on the collective performance rather than individual solos. On the poignant absurdist “The Country-Borders”, in response to Baux’s emotive monologue, Schouten lets loose fiery, urgent wails while Courtois bows out crystalline and angular phrases with passion. Borges’ thunderous polyrhythms underscore her bandmates' improvisation and the anti-war message of Perec’s poem. Meanwhile, on “The Letter” the serene ensemble sound is laced with melancholy. Borges contributes soft, jingling percussion that dramatically punctuates Schouten’s languid, undulating clarinet and Courtois’ darkly smoldering cello.

This collaborative record perfectly marries provocative poetry with equally stimulating musical extemporizations. Its singularity, though, goes beyond its structure. Each of the performers brings their idiosyncratic styles and seamlessly overlaps them for a multilayered work that is moving and memorable. Open Space makes for a rewarding listening experience even for those who may not know French.

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The Black Nothing & Anders Filipsen - Midt i en Fremtid (Ilk Music, 2026)

By Eyal Hareuveni

Anyone who has experienced someone close, and especially a young one, who was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease, would be familiar with the existential and emotional rollercoaster that awaits all around those ill ones, along with the grief-filled, compassionate yet helpless years to come.

Danish keyboard player and composer Anders Filipsen, the leader of the local experimental, electroacoustic ensemble The Black Nothing, experienced Alzheimer’s disease when his father was diagnosed four years ago. He composed a ten-part suite, Midt i en Fremtid (In the Middle of a Future), about the time he spent with his father, which composed passages, free improvisation, and graphic scores. He says: “This album is the sound of a time when what once was ceased to be, and something new emerged. It is a loving song to the moments we share now – in the midst of all that has disappeared”.

The different parts of the suite function as tableaux of moments marked by gradual decline, filled with silence, relating to the inevitable time when the ill ones can not share their thoughts anymore, repetition, and intensity- a landscape where presence and memory meet in sound. The ten musicians - vocalist Qarin Wikström (who sings in Danish, but the lyrics were translated to English), trumpeter Emil Jensen, clarinetists Carolyn Goodwyn and Jeppe Højgaard (who also plays the flute), cellist Soma Allpas, double bass player and cellist Nils Bo Davidsen, electronics player Mads Emil Nielsen, percussionist Victor Dybbroe, drummer Bjørn Heebøl, and Filipsen on synths - use their idiosyncratic voices to create a unified expression in which individual playing and collective sound merge.

The introspective, reflective, and chamber spirit of this suite emphasizes the vulnerability and the often helpless feelings of attending to those suffering from Alzheimer's when “everything that’s known is gone”, as Wikström sings in the opening piece, “Synker og Stirrerr (Sinking and Staring). “Nelly” captures Filipsen’s father's last memory and gently addresses the realization that when time, with its many memories and experiences, loses its meaning, and all that is left is the present.

The power of this thoughtful, insightful suite lies in its emotional restraint, best expressed by Wikström’s fragile voice, and its kaleidoscopic individual colors, suggesting a nuanced yet abruptly shifting, unstable, and not always comprehensible new reality, faithfully representing life with Alzheimer’s disease. But Filipsen orchestrates this suite not as an expression of melancholy and loss, but as a statement of compassion and love to the most closed ones, and the opportunity to let them go, embraced by their dear ones. Or as he wrote in “I stilhed findes ord (In Silence There Are Words): “...Room for honesty, peculiarity, and unbearable sorrow / Come take my hand”.

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