A continuation of saxophonist Makoto Kawashima's exploratory journey that I
loved in his previous solo works Homo Sacer and
Zoe,
Arteriais an album that requires patience and active participation
from the listener. The two new pieces that constitute this record further
highlight the importance that Kawashima places on silence and his penchant
for meditative build-ups that give equal importance to the quietest of
sounds, like the clacking of the keys or the buzzing of the reed and the
loudest overtone blares, delivered with his signature theremin-like vibrato
and unrelenting force.
There's a real flow to both tracks, they're deliberate and thorough in
their development. The unexpected bluesy lines, the slowly and painfully
ascending melody on the title track and the emotional bursts of energy feel
even sweeter after the listener has been taken on a journey from an almost
imperceptible hum to a single note, almost as if to show them how sound
itself is created, painstakingly carving catharsis from a stone.
The ability of an unaccompanied improvised performance, on a monophonic
instrument no less, to conjure entire worlds the listener can get lost in
is testament to how talented Kawashima is and how good his musical
instincts are.
Like all great improvised music there's a sense of danger to the material
on this record. Each daring leap and each strained altissimo note make me
hold my breath. Will he make it? Will the next note even come out? This
thrill makes the listener an active party in the music and the very tactile
and raw recording, making every inhale, footstep or movement audible,
contributes to the illusion of being in the room with Kawashima, turning
this solo album into a moment for connection and collaboration in the same
way that concerts are. I love music like this.
Available digitally and on CD from
Relative Pitch
, don't miss out on it.
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