Torben Snekkestad / Søren Kjærgaard - Another Way of the Heart (Trost, 2022)

By Eyal Hareuveni

A few rare albums fit perfectly into your emotional state of mind and capture the fragility of our impermanent lives so beautifully as Another Way of the Heart by Norwegian reeds and trumpet player Torben Snekkestad and Danish pianist Søren Kjærgaard. Both Snekkestad and Kjærgaard were associated with the Danish label-musicians cooperative Ilk Music but, unfortunately, their discographies, especially in recent years, don’t match their great creative potential.

Snekkestad and Kjærgaard collaborated before in the trio The Living Room with Norwegian drummer Thomas Strønen and in an ad-hoc quintet of Danish drummer Peter Bruun (Unintended Consequences, Ilk, 2013). Snekkestad is also known for his collaborations with Evan Parker, Nate Wooley, Lotte Anker as well as his ongoing work with Barry Guy, in a duo, trio with pianist Agustí Fernández and in Guy’s Blue Shroud Ensemble. Kjærgaard led a much-acclaimed trio with double bass player Ben Street and drummer Andrew Cyrille. He is also known for his experimental projects with Danish poet-musician Torben Ulrich (also a filmmaker, a former professional tennis player and the father of Metallica drummer, Lars Ulrich). The titles of the pieces of Another Way of the Heart are taken from the third and last collaboration of Kjærgaard with Ulrich, Meridiana: Lines Toward A Non-local Alchemy (Escho, 2014), which was inspired by the different meanings and usages of meridians in Eastern (Daoist-alchemical) and Western (geo-navigational) traditions.

Another Way of the Heart was recorded in August 2021 at Ocean Sound Recording, Giske, Norway, a studio describing itself as located at “the end of the world, on the edge of the sea with a clearness provided by the open horizon”. This isolated studio with lodging services is a perfect place for reflection, meditation and subtle and intimate experiments with acoustic sounds. Snekkestad plays on tenor and soprano saxes, clarinet and trumpet and Kjærgaard on a grand piano.

The poetic and enigmatic titles of the 12 concise pieces, all credited to Snekkestad and Kjærgaard, capture faithfully the reserved, patient and calm dynamics of Snekkestad and Kjærgaard. They need no more than a few delicate and minimalist strokes to cement a profound and evocative emotional territory, always in an organic-intuitive flow but never subscribing to a familiar course. Snekkestad’s whispering tone on the saxes, close in spirit to the Japanese Shakuhachi flute (an instrument traditionally associated with Zen Buddhism), alongside the less-is-more approach of Kjærgaard, intensify the spiritual-contemplative of the album (check the three parts of “Wind and Floating Lines” or “The always acting Nothing” and “Into Particles of Light”) and suggest elusive, kōan-like poetic textures, in a way that corresponds with the texts and poetry of Torben Ulrich. The sparse multiphonics and bird calls of Snekkestad with the precise, resonant touches of the piano strings and keys of Kjærgaard on the mysterious “Radiant recomposed” and “Holding Mountain, Holding Movement” further highlight the unique voices of Snekkestad and Kjærgaard and the immersive, healing effect of this majestic album. This music is definitely a healing force on our planet.

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Torben Snekkestad, Agustí Fernández, and Barry Guy - Louisiana Variations (Fundacja Słuchaj, 2018) ****

By Derek Stone

Torben Snekkestad and Barry Guy first worked together on 2015’s impressive Slip, Slide and Collide - that recording, with its labyrinthine improvisations and near-feverish eruptions, proved the duo to be fiercely attuned to one another. Now, on Louisiana Variations, another voice is drawn into the fold - that of Spanish pianist Agustí Fernández, a long-time collaborator with Barry Guy and an excellent composer/improviser in his own right. On this release, the trio lose none of the intensity previously kindled by Snekkestad and Guy; if anything, the fire is stoked, the coals are prodded, and the improvisations whip out wilder and further than before.

“LV #1” gets things off to an inconspicuous start, with the players circling one another tentatively. Snekkestad employs a number of extended techniques - wheezing exhalations, conch-like sputters, and the like. When he does transition to more traditional tones (as he does on the latter half of the track), his runs are almost serene. It speaks to Snekkestad’s talent as a saxophonist and improviser that both approaches suit the piece well. Barry Guy is as interesting as ever, moving from arco to pizzicato with aplomb; it’s unfortunate that the bass is mixed a bit too low here, but the distinctly tactile tones that he produces nonetheless help to color the improvisation and lend it a sense of aggressive urgency. Fernández, with his rapid, percussive attack, matches both Snekkestad’s timbral explorations and Guy’s raw physicality. As the improvisation winds down in the last few minutes, Fernández (by way of omission) introduces a sense of space into the piece that, gradually, starts to crack at the seams - his notes begin to bunch up and cluster, buoyed by Guy’s distended groans.

In “LV #2,” the lightfootedness that Fernández displays on the first piece is uprooted entirely - instead, he utilizes various extended techniques that engulf Guy and Snekkestad in an outpouring of creaks, scrapes, and wind-blown acoustic effects. Eventually, these harsh tonalities give way to a hellish choral section: the three players each release a stream of notes that, taken together, seem like approximations of some infernal inversion of glossolalia. After the somewhat harrowing abstractions of “LV #2,” the third improvisation, though carrying a seed of foreboding, is rather contemplative and mild.

The final two improvisations are the longest and, perhaps, the most exploratory. “LV #5” opens with unnerving sheets of sound from Fernández and Guy’s rumbling cascades. Guy and Fernández have worked together for a long time, in various contexts, but to hear them engaged in such raw expressions of physicality together will never not be invigorating; when Snekkestad joins in with his sinewy, serpentine runs, it’s as if an insect were alighting on the face of a monolith. On “LV #6,” the final piece, Snekkestad opens with a solo that, despite its relatively straightforward development, carries shades of the enigmatic. Underneath, Guy traces out fragments of arco that emerge, surge, and dissipate. By the improvisation’s midpoint, Fernández inserts himself into this disquieting space, employing various extended techniques that serve to prod both Guy and Snekkestad into a kind of feverish abandon. In the last few minutes, Fernández returns to the percussive style of “LV #1” - rapid-fire clusters and pounding repetitions that, along with Guy’s turbulent bowing, bring the piece to its climax.

Fans of the esteemed Aurora Trio (Barry Guy, Agustí Fernández, and drummer Ramón López) might find Louisiana Variations hard to stomach; unlike that trio’s more melodic and composed approach, the trio of Snekkestad, Fernández, and Guy make music that is uncompromisingly bleak, and there is a little in the way of a melodic “thread” to grasp onto.  Nevertheless, for those who are drawn to this kind of raw, unfettered interplay, Louisiana Variations is likely to be a treat. These three players are masters at carving out a sonic space (and then filling that space with all manner of tonal and timbral mutations). It’s an adventurous release from an adventurous trio of improvisers - what more could you ask for?

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Torben Snekkestad - The Poetics of a Multiphonic Landscape (ILK, 2016)

By Derek Stone

The world of the solo saxophone can be a forbidding one, lacking as it does the sonic landmarks and signifiers that so-called “straight jazz” defines itself by. There have been far too few explorers of this terrain (Anthony Braxton and Evan Parker are notable for their extended forays), but it remains an area that is largely uninvestigated by the majority of both players and audiences. Torben Snekkestad is definitely not trying to reverse that trend; these three albums won’t usher in a golden age of solo sax, nor will they encourage a new generation of youngsters to seek out For Alto or Process and Reality. What they will do, however, is excite and mystify the adventurous listener, and hopefully invite him or her to continue down the barely-beaten path that Braxton, Parker, John Butcher, and numerous others have cleared out on past recordings.

Snekkestad’s new trilogy is called “The Poetics of a Multiphonic Landscape,” and it purports to “produce multiple sonics simultaneously (multiphonics) and to unfold the possible poetics of these within the acoustic solo format.” To do this, Snekkestad has utilized a range of instruments, one of which is decidedly peculiar. Curious about what that might be? Read on!

Plateau **** 

On Plateau, Snekkestad sticks to the tenor and soprano saxophones, and he explores not only their potential to produce convoluted, ecstatic threads of notes, but the timbral and textural possibilities of the instruments as well. The first track, “Plateau #3,” is an example of this latter mode: the tenor resonates and rolls in extended tonal swells, and Snekkestad’s breath is an integral part of the whole, lending the tones an unvarnished physicality. “Stellar Droplets” (played on soprano sax) is more varied in its approach, moving from circular shapes that recall Evan Parker’s work to airy exhalations and clusters that resemble the sounds emitted from conch-shells. Plateau is a lovely recording, atmospheric and spacious, with a great range of textures that run the gamut from soothing susurrations to riveting jets of sound.

Winds of Mouth ****

It is immediately clear that Winds of Mouth will be a somewhat different experience from Plateau, opening with multi-tracked reeds, a slide trumpet, and the ever-curious reed trumpet. While the instrumentation is different, the approach that Snekkestad takes is comparable; in the first piece, “April Flourish,” there are extended tones that warble, pulse, and trill, and the individual instruments arise and dissipate with wave-like regularity. As its name implies, “South Abyss” approximates what it might sound like to descend into a fissure in the Earth’s crust - the disquieting creak of tectonic plates, expulsions of air from unseen cracks, and foreboding groans. It’s an incredibly immersive track, and it illustrates well what Snekkestad does best - constructing veritable worlds of sound with a limited, but effective, arsenal.

The Reed Trumpet ***½

The Reed Trumpet is a singular work, one in which Snekkestad explores the textural possibilities of an instrument that most people have never even heard of. How much different is a reed trumpet from a regular one? Not much, I’d say - after all, it’s just a trumpet with a saxophone mouth-piece attached. There are some key differences, however: it’s raspier, more guttural and gravelly, and thus it carries some menacing undertones. Those differences aren’t enough to fool your average listener, though - it’s still easily identifiable as a trumpet. Snekkestad tries his best to extract alien textures and timbres from it, and he largely succeeds. Pieces like “Ninth” find him moving from sonorous, low-pitched shapes to the shriller tones that a trumpet is typically identified with. “Second” is a hushed, muted affair that occasionally bubbles up into pebbly rattles and murmurs, while “Third” is a somewhat straightforward track that brushes lightly against a myriad of light melodies before sinking into the abstractions of “Fourth.”

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New - Danish - Horizons for the Piano Trio

By Eyal Hareuveni

Three Danish trios offer highly original, personal and poetic approaches for the piano trios, looking back into the rich legacy of jazz and free improvisation but also marking promising starting points for the future.

Peter Bruun, Søren Kjærgaard & Jonas Westergaard - Thēsaurós (Ilk Music, 2023)

Danish drummer Peter Bruun, pianist Søren Kjærgaard and double bass player Jonas Westergaard (who resides now in Berlin) began working together at the late nineties while all were students at the Rhythmic Music Conservatory in Copenhagen. At that time these three musicians-improvisers-composers were inseparable, beginning to shape their trio Fuschia as a collective symbiotic entity that immerses itself in the tension between complex stringent structures and improvisation.

After finishing school they parted ways. Kjærgaard started a long-running trio with drummer Andrew Cyrille and bassist Ben Street, led a Danish trio with Westergaard and a duo with legendary inter-disciplinary artist Torben Ulrich (the father of Metallica’s drummer, Lars Ulrich). Bruun joined Django Bates’ Belovèd and formed groups like the folk-pop Eggs Laid by Tigers (with Westergarrd) dedicated to the poetry of Dylan Thomas and the All Too Human, and played in the free jazz trio with trombonist Samuel Blaser and guitarist Marc Ducret. Westergaard worked with John Tchicai and in recent years with the DLW trio with vibes player Christopher Dell and drummer Christian Lillinger.

The 2016 edition of the Copenhagen Jazz Festival united Fuchsia and since then it has become an annual tradition, and Kjærgaard, now a professor at the Rhythmic Music Conservatory, Bruun and Westergaard play every year a free improvising set in the festival. But since the trio resumed rehearsing regularly, Westergaard rearranged material that was originally commissioned by the 2014 edition of Berlin’s Serious Series Festival for a septet, later released as Positioner/Positions (Ilk Music, 2021). This album marked the first part of a new trilogy of the trio.

Bruun had been working since 2018 on the music for the second part of the trilogy, the double vinyl album Thēsaurós, likely to be followed by a third part composed by Kjærgaard. Bruun has been experimenting with a concept he calls Rhythm Design which has evolved from a research project into a system of writing music with complex rhythmic patterns as skeletal forms for his composition (you can find more information. Including scores and interview in Bruun’s website). For Thēsaurós he chose three different signatures - 12/11, 12/13, and 18/17 - as an examination of polymetric structures and exploration of the potentials between the structured and the intuitive through embodiment. Kjærgaard practiced these rhythmic patterns relentlessly until they felt they were part of him. Westergaard then extracted his own bass parts from the endlessly winding piano parts. Following countless, extended rehearsals that shaped synonymous strategies of playing these intricate, labyrinthian structures, the trio ended up cutting more than 20 hours of music in the studio, with most of the takes stretching between 10-15 minutes. Seven of these extended pieces made it into Thēsaurós.

The ambitious and challenging music of Thēsaurós demands repeated deep listening in order to decipher its complex, subtle and layered structures as well as the unpredictable inner logic and mind games but it compensates with its rare, haunting and intriguing beauty. The more you listen to Thēsaurós, its music resonates more and more. The music flows naturally, keeps its positive tension, and is performed with coherence and commanding elegance. It moves freely between Nordic, chamber jazz and modern jazz ("Thēsaurō's No. 6 [18/17]: Epitome" and “Thēsaurós No 2 [12/11]: Kinesis”) to contemporary chamber music (“Thēsaurós No 4 [12/13]: Treasure”) and intuitive, free improvisation (the last, live hypnotic piece “Thēsaurós No 7: Casual Structures”), often in the same piece. This music looks back into the legacy of the piano trio but also marks a promising starting point for the future. Obviously, the music stresses a deep affinity achieved not only through the long-time connection between the old friends Kjærgaard, Bruun and Westergaard but also through long and tasking processing and immersion from every conceivable perspective, including a bodily understanding of the musical concepts, in order to achieve such a profound and coherent work.

Inspiring and simply magnificent. 

Torben Snekkestad / Søren Kjærgaard / Tomo Jacobson - SPIRIT SPIRIT (Gotta Let It Out, 2022) 

Norwegian, Copenhagen-based sax player (also a trumpeter) Torben Snekkestad began to work with Kjærgaard in The Living Room trio (with fellow Norwegian drummer Thomas Strønen), played with Bruun’s Unintended Consequences (Ilk Music, 2013), alongside Kjærgaard, Westergaard and Norwegian trumpeter Eivind Lønning, and continued to work closely with Kjærgaard. Last year this duo released the sublime and poetic Another Way Of The Heart (Trost, 2022). Like Kjærgaard, Snekkestad teaches at the Danish Rhythmic Music Conservatory.

Snekkestad and Kjærgaard trio with Polish, Copenhagen-based double bass player and head of the label Gotta Let It Out, Tomo Jacobson, was formed in 2016. SPIRIT SPIRIT is its debut album, released on the last day of 2022. It is a 38-minute, nine parts suite with an epilogue, edited and composed from almost three hours of spontaneously improvised studio recordings by the trio. Its dynamics correspond with Thēsaurós, as this is a democratic trio that relies on deep listening with the three musicians keep challenging each other with their highly personal and unorthodox approaches, but in a much more minimalist and sparse, introspective and enigmatic manner than the one expressed in Thēsaurós. The profound poetic interplay of Snekkestad and Kjærgaard as well as their sonic imagination informs the suggestive, austere atmosphere of this inspiring and most beautiful meeting, with Jacobson’s extended bowing techniques intensifying its melancholic, dark tones.

Paris Peacock - Wingbeats (Ilk Music, 2023) 

Snekkestad (on saxophone and reed trumpet) and Bruun (on prepared tǎpan and micro percussion) return in another singular piano trio, this time with soul brother, pianist Simon Toldam (on prepared piano) in the NFT (Non-Fungible-Token) Paris Peacock, with sound designer August Wanngren and in collaboration with NFT Troels Abrahamsen. Paris Peacock was inspired by British photographer Levon Biss' super-enlarged images of insects, especially the butterfly Paris Peacock . The NFT platform offers exclusive access to supplemented content that illuminates the music and its magnifying conception in various ways through; video, essays, documentation material, as well as extended liner notes by musician/composer Simon Toldam.

Toldam refers Wingbeats to Edward Lorenz’s seminal article from 1972 about the chaos theory and the butterfly effect, reminding us that nothing in our world is set in stone and even small actions can have great power. “Now more than ever, I find it important to pay attention to details and have a genuine trust, that even small changes in our life have a severe impact on the world we are living in. To me, this mindset is similar to the art of improvised music; the very first little sound played will set the direction for the whole performance, and therefore bears defining importance,” writes Toldam in his liner notes.

The 40-minute Wingbeats was recorded live at Jazzhus Montmartre in Copenhagen and is influenced by Biss's Microsculpture of extreme, enlarged insects, and especially the image of Paris Peacock, and featuring Toldam’s Magnified Micro Music concept. Toldam drew three timelines through the image - loosely inspired by Danish electronic music pioneer Else Marie Pade. These lines travel through deep black nothings; varied colorful patterns; butterfly hair and eyes, which all are inspiringly translatable to various musical parameters; dynamics; densities; repetitions; and timbre. And beyond the more or less concrete transformation from image to sound, there's also the influence of communication between the image and our musical intuition.

The Wingbeats composition used maximally cranked microphones placed close to their acoustic instruments that were playing at a whisper’s volume in order to explore and investigate subtle sonic fields that are rarely heard, much like a magnifying glass for sound. This abstract and enigmatic composition forces you to think anew about how you listen, process this elusive sonic experience in space and time and adjust your mindset to its disorienting, sparse sounds. Obviously, your sensitivity to the most subtle, microtonal gestures and dynamics deepens and after repeated, deep listening your sonic doors of perception gather unique insights and endless other possibilities. This composition does not promise instant karma but its austere, humble and compassionate approach teaches us that even the slightest change in behavior or mindset from any one of us will have an impact on someone else, at some point. Maybe not in a week, or even a year - but perhaps in 10 years or 50 years or after we have passed on and transitioned to the eternal butterfly fields.

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Torben Snekkestad, Agusti Fernandez, Barry Guy - The Swiftest Traveler (Trost, 2020) ****

By Taylor McDowell

“I have learned that the swiftest traveler is he who goes afoot,” writes Henry David Thoreau in his masterwork, “Walden.” To spend the whole day working to earn a wage, just to buy train fare to visit the countryside would be a frivolous endeavor - especially when one could simply visit the countryside on foot, no fare required. The idea that “modern improvements” actually enhance the quality of living is something Thoreau argued against in his musings of economy, progress, and the human spirit. The swiftest traveler eschews their reliance on the extraneous baggage in favor of self-reliance and simplicity.

I don’t know if the title of this record is a reference to Thoreau’s traveler, but I think the principles do apply to the music therein. The Swiftest Traveler is the second release by this international trio - featuring reedist Torben Snekkestad, pianist Agusti Fernandez, and bassist Barry Guy, following their debut release, Louisiana Variations , in 2017. They achieve a remarkable sense of freedom here because they seem untethered by tradition and travel without the baggage of preconception. The simplicity is not in the music itself, nor the techniques involved. Rather, it’s their unadulterated approach to collective improvisation where the elements of playing are given equal weight. Different ideas are often positioned opposite to each other to create a narrative through contrasts. Melody is pitted against sheer sound; repetitive phrases are a fixture contrasting moments of pinball indirection; volume dynamics fluctuate from complete silence to overwhelming dins; musical agreements that result in an insurgency.

The music, because of it’s mercurial nature, is difficult to pin down and describe with generalizations. And rightfully so. Guy and Fernandez tend to have slippery styles where erraticism is part of their musical languages. Guy moves freely between pizzicato and arco, often several times throughout a single track. Strings wheez, pop and clatter much of the time, but on the ripe occasion, he’ll play a thick droning note on arco that has a gravitational pull on the other two musicians. Fernandez is the type of pianist who can be found tinkering inside the piano as often as he is sitting behind the keys. On The Swiftest Traveler, he spends more time doing the latter, and often with devastating effects. His fleet-fingered runs weave between and collide with Guy and Snekkestad during periods of complete disarray. He has quite a commanding presence when his riotous lines coagulate into dense tremolos and volume swells. Compared to the other two, Snekkestad’s approach may seem a bit more traditional here. However, his playing on various reeds and trumpet often yields some of the deepest, most anguished emotional material on the record. Snekkestad’s use of lyricism is a gorgeous counterbalance to the textured assaults of his partners.

The effect of their combined idiosyncracies results in a beautiful series of improvisations. There
always seems to be forward momentum, even in the more hectic moments on the record. At times their individual voices seem to be pushing and pulling in completely different directions. The feeling of tension from this multidirectional approach is temporarily abated when they suddenly shift into a completely new conversation. Their quick reflexes surely keep things interesting, though admittedly it’s easy to get blissfully lost along the way. On tracks like “Sway” and “Slip, Slide & Rattle,” they grapple with a multitude of ideas at the speed of thought until reaching moving climaxes where they converge on a single mood. “InSitu” is a remarkably cohesive dialogue between Fernandez and Snekkestad that begs for a duo recording between these two. The album closes with the misleadingly titled “Interlude.” It starts with a lively and turbulent improvisation before shifting into a lovely composed coda - a porcelain bookend to close an otherwise visceral record.

The Swiftest Traveler is an album that becomes more generous with each listen. It’s easy to miss the little gems embedded throughout because there are many and they are all too fleeting. Just when you catch a nugget of their clever interplay, they’ve already moved onto the next idea. There’s also a certain primal feeling throughout - that we are listening to free music in its most natural and uncompromised form. This is a fleet-footed trio that I hope to hear more from. Highly recommended.
The Swiftest Traveler is available on vinyl, as a CD or digital download.

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Evan Parker Roundup, Part 2 of 2

Evan Parker Photo © Caroline Forbes

By Nick Metzger

“You must go on. I can’t go on. I’ll go on.”
- Samuel Beckett, The Unnamable

Listening to and reviewing all of these Evan Parker related albums has been a privilege and a learning experience for me. I’d already been doing some deep listening after the release of the “Topographie Parisienne” set, I mean I obviously re-listened to “Topography of the Lungs” to see how the sound of the trio changed between recordings and that set me onto re-listening to the Parker solo albums I owned (and caused me to buy a couple that I’d been holding off on to fill in the gaps). Then I dipped into the numerous group recordings (again with Colin pointing out some real gems I hadn’t listened to), terrific one-offs, and his long running groups (with the Schlippenbach Trio/Quartet, with Guy and Lytton, with Bailey and Stevens, with SME, with the Global Unity Orchestra, with variants of the Electro-Acoustic groups, etc, etc, etc).

It’s really incredible how evolved his playing has become, even if the underlying notion seems to have been there since the beginning. There really are no albums of him playing in a different style; he always plays in his style. I think of the early work of someone like Jackson Pollock and how it’s pretty far removed from his famous drip paintings, but that doesn’t appear to be the case with Parker. There aren’t any recordings of him playing like Coltrane, even though he’s a devotee, or any of his other known influences. I wouldn’t call anything he’s done “skronk” or “fire music”, it’s too sophisticated and carefully controlled, yet anyone who’s listened to his solo material knows that it is challenging to listen to, and I myself have to be in the right frame of mind to properly enjoy it. Anyway, I’ve ended up with more questions than answers, and I think that’s a signpost of genius and we’re all fortunate that the well has turned out to be so deep. The only metaphor I can offer is that I’ve found his playing to be like river rocks. Early on it was coarse and craggy, but over time the currents of his music (insert eye-rolls here) seem to have eroded the sharp edges somewhat, even as the original shapes remain intact. So here’s to whatever Mr. Parker comes up with next, I’ll be looking forward to it, whatever the shape, and I know I’m not alone.

Evan Parker, Lotte Anker, & Torben Snekkestad - Inferences (Fundacja Słuchaj, 2019) ****

On “Inferences” Parker collaborates in a trio with fellow saxophonists Lotte Anker and Torben Snekkestad for a 2016 performance in Copenhagen at the KorcertKirken Blågårds Plads. On this release Parker plays soprano saxophone, Anker plays soprano and tenor saxophones and Snekkestad plays soprano saxophone and trumpet. These three musicians complement each other’s playing very nicely and have a natural rapport with which they produce two very impressive improvisations.

The trio builds up a lot of texture on the first piece, with Anker's tenor providing a foundation for the sopranos over the first half. Layered split notes, growl, tongue slapping, and trills are the order of the day. The Parker/Snekkestad interactions are beautiful, very playful and communicative, and they become something else entirely when Anker switches to soprano. At about the halfway point the three are engrossed in a beautiful and harmonically rich engagement that sings and howls. At about ⅔ of the track duration Snekkestad starts making some really intriguing noises on the trumpet, a most interesting and welcome extended technique that is excellent and complementary to the swirling sound of the sopranos. The trio rounds out this first track with an extremely busy and piercing interchange, quenching the last couple of minutes with reed pop and hiss.

The playing on "Kairos" is more open and less textural than the previous track. It feels as if there is a drama that unfolds within the piece and the players are very attentive in their interactions, at least it seems that way to me. The track gives a classical music impression in the way it develops from slight probing on through more complex passages, and on to resolution(?). I may be making this all up as well, reading into it too much as one searching for words sometimes does. But it's an excellent piece nevertheless, and the contrast with the intensity of the first track is appreciated. Fantastic music.

Evan Parker, Joe McPhee, Lol Coxhill, Chris Corsano - Tree Dancing (OTOROKU, 2019) ****

This unexpected but essential release recorded at Cafe Oto in 2010 captures the one-time-only pairing of Joe McPhee and the late Lol Coxhill joined here by Chris Corsano and Evan Parker for a great set of improvised music. All of these musicians are legendary figures in free jazz circles so I won't go into their respective backgrounds, but wanted to just briefly remark on what a fantastic project Cafe Oto has been for this music, both as a venue (so I've heard anyway) and now as a digital distributor for many of our favorite record labels. Check out their online store and empty your wallets, tell your significant other that you had my permission, I'm sure that will go over well. Anyway, I'll get on with it.

This concert took place during McPhee's residency at Cafe Oto in 2010, and he begins "First Dance" by thanking the participants and guests for their support, as well as commenting that the day before was Ornette Coleman's birthday (80th). McPhee then unleashes a solo of otherworldly, soulful beauty in his singular fashion. An extraordinarily touching bit of playing that envelopes the listener in a swath of damp-eyed mists before they are abruptly swatted away by Corsano who ushers in a quickening of tempo. McPhee abides and the duel ensues. Corsano is vivid here, producing roiled waves of sound for McPhee to skirt over with his full throated articulations, alternating between bluesy ruminations and screeching blow-out. On "Second Dance" Parker's familiar swelling tenor growl appears from the silence, joined in short order by Coxhill and McPhee on soprano emitting shrieks and short darting figures. The three converse masterfully in their reed-speak, and I find it remarkable how clearly you can discern their distinct voices. The recording is a little lacking on this one, specifically in the left channel there is some clipping, but that's of very minor significance. Brilliant and satisfying trio interplay.

"Dance 3" builds more gradually and is initially less dense than the previous track, more exploratory, Parker briefly twisting breathless circular sound knots below the sorano chatter. Corsano is reserved across the first half, pattering around in the margins, sensitively exploring his kit. The quartet picks up some momentum over the latter half as they start to warm to each other and their surroundings. On "Dance 4" individual solos evolve into a group interplay, with an honest-to-goodness near-freakout occuring in the last minute. McPhee starts the track off on alto, followed by Coxhill, both taking extended, bluesy solos that accelerate as Corsano puts stick to skin.

The "Fifth Dance" begins with a better than two minute solo/wind-up of percussion, after which the trio digs in with McPhee on pocket trumpet. The exploratory vibe of the previous track rides here, with give-and-take being the order of the day. The "Sixth Dance" is a quickie of crackling percussion and a bit of mottled sax trill from McPhee and Corsano that, lasting only a few minutes, hits like a splash of cold water on a hot day. Finally, the "Last Dance", which begins with Corsano wrecking his skins accompanied by the tremendous bassist John Edwards, whose presence sends the group into fits, exploding with energy, wringing the wet rag completely dry. I'm not sure that you could top such a denouement if you tried.

Available from Café Oto.

Setola Di Maiale Unit & Evan Parker - Live At Angelica 2018 (Setola Di Maiale, 2019) ****½

This remarkable recording was made during the 2018 AngelicA International Festival of Music, and to mark the occasion of the Setola di Maiale (Pig Bristle in English) record label's 25th anniversary. The Setoladimaiale Unit is features many of the label's most prominent artists including label head Stefano Giust on percussion, as well as composer Philip Corner, and dancer Phoebe Neville (the latter two play the gong intro). The rest of the unit includes Marco Colonna on clarinets, Michele Anelli on contrabass, Alberto Novello on electronics, Martin Mayes plays the Alphorn (a horn used from the 17th century as a form of communication in the mountainous regions of Europe), Giorgio Pacorig on piano, Patrizia Oliva provides voice and electronics, and our Mr. Parker plays both the tenor and soprano saxophone.

"Intro" draws up the curtain on this collection with a duo of gongs slowly developing from silence, hardly played, just tappings and hints of rhythm that segue directly to the first piece. Squeaks of electronics and snatches of wordless vocals complement the dramatic and turbulent forming. Parker doesn't take over the piece, but neither is his presence subdued. He's consumed by the group and their communion, emitting traces of his distinct cadence in the sophisticated concoction. "Second" is all the more mysterious and entrancing, with water noise, clarinet, and electronics swirling in a heady dance with the vocals, horns, and piano. The percussion really begins to wallop at around the midpoint, causing the group to roil and the clarinet to sear. Parker lays out his rough eddies over otherworldly vocals and warm percussion as the track fades. Very nice indeed.

On "Third" bass clarinet wrestles with the trombone's forlorn wails and moans, underpinned by a surreal bed of vocals, chimes, and strings. In time the horns, piano, and electronics encroach, ushering buried words within a busy percussive field. "Fourth" carries in on prickly piano and electronics, the trombone wheezing and hissing like the winds of an alien planet. Briefly the horns raise a flag before slipping back below the surface and a wooden flute takes the fore, then the trombone, buried beneath layers of wool which dampen its screams. Malleted cymbal rolls elicit the return to a busier soundscape, subtle and a little strange but more than inviting. The final piece "Fifth" serves as a culmination as well as a crest, the ensemble simmers with all manner of delicious little noises as the instrumentalists trade sentiments. The electronically manipulated vocals add a hallucinatory sense and the crowding of the aural field adds a tinge of anxiety, driving the listener to the edge of some unseen abyss before rolling back from the precipice and vaporizing. A remarkable piece, it's as enchanting as it is thrilling.

Evan Parker & Matthew Wright Trance Map - Crepuscule in Nickelsdorf (Intakt, 2019) *****

Finally, we have this wonderful album that serves to tie together (either directly or indirectly) some of Parker's most interesting work in the field of electro-acoustic music. The Trance Map+ quintet is a descendant of Parker's partnership with Matthew Wright, with whom he released the original "Trance Map" album on his own psi imprint back in 2011.The other three members of the quintet all have histories working in Parker's electronics projects, Adam Linson plays bass with the Electro-Acoustic Ensemble, and John Coxon and Ashley Wales (better known as Spring Heel Jack) worked with Parker on 2004's tribute to Steve Lacy "Evan Parker with Birds". It's also significant that the quintet was assembled for the 2017 Hull UK City of Culture festival "Mind on the Run: The Basil Kirchin Story" which celebrated the renowned composer with whom Parker and Derek Bailey among others worked with on his 1971 album "World within Worlds". In many ways that album was a pre-cursor to Parker's more electronics oriented material, and is one of the first of its kind to blend electro-acoustic experimentation with live free improvisation.


On the first track the listener is met with quite literal birdsong, digitally manipulated it hiccups and echoes across the stereo field. Parker's soprano provides a moor in the disorienting flutter of the comings and goings as he starts out to meet and engage with the wild soundscape. Snatches of his own playing are caught in the snare of the samplers, broken down into granules and globules, and released back into the open for him to engage with. The second track gets on noisily, further breakdowns in linearity clouding perception and making it impossible to tell where one sound ends and another begins, let alone what the source is. Parker sounds absolutely organic next to the trickles of static and malfunction. He appears briefly with a fluid call and is responded to by the mimicry of the machines doused in the slurry of their logic.

The third piece bristles with movement, blowing wildly like a vortex of sound fragments, xylophone, perhaps some double bass groan, organic yet pixelated and becoming more and more so as the track progresses. Parker's playing is fantastic here and is backed by electronic crackle and some non-standard, rhythmic samples. The fourth movement blossoms in hiss and noises flickering with modulation. An undercurrent of hum commingles with the lysergic insect noises whilst Parker goes into his act, setting up a sequence of notes which is sampled and then laying out a counter motif on top. The fifth section crackles effervescently like a paresthesia of the middle ear. In addition to the thin ribbons of circular breathing Parker adds staccato squawking that is subsequently sampled and remade into 16 bit video game noises. The double bass groans with the grainy sounds of long, slow bow pulls.

The sixth and l section is only a few minutes long, and begins with Parker alone briefly before the cosmic fizz again foams up and overtakes him with its odd loops and primordial jelly. The final track, lucky number seven, continues the leitmotif, gurbling and blurping noises hugging the symmetry of the structure's pointillism. The sounds the group conjures are insanely delectable, a highly successful fusion of noise, live sampling, synthesis, and free improvisation.




To offer a final thought, all of these albums are worth a listen for fans of Parker's music. And while I've scored them all differently, it's really based on my own tastes (and in the moment at that, they often shift dramatically from day to day) and so I would encourage you not to read too much into the ratings as I'm not a real critic, just a fan, and you know what you like better than I do.

Back to part 1

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Nate Wooley & Torben Snekkestad - Of Echoing Bronze (Fundacja Słuchaj, 2018) ****

By Stef Gijssels

On July 5, 2015, two of the most forward-thinking horn-players met at the KoncertKirken – Blågårds Plads in Copenhagen, Denmark. The first one is Nate Wooley, the prolific and omnipresent trumpet-player from New York, the other is equally progressive Norwegian saxophonist Torben Snekkestad, who is also a member of the Danish Saxophone Quartet, a classical ensemble. On this album is also plays reed-trumpet, a hybrid instrument consisting of a trumpet with a sax mouthpiece.

The encounter between both musicians is a very organic dialogue of sonic discovery, sometimes confrontational, sometimes coagulating in a common lyricism. The sound can go in all directions, from abrasive staccato bursts to pure stretched tones, but the real fun is to hear the dynamics between both, the tempting approaches, the echoing of each others ideas, the creation of space and the building up of intensity.

Things becomes even more interesting on the second track, when they find a more solid rhythm of mesmerising repetitive sounds initially, evolving into more sparse sounds, possibly the "Breath Droplets" suggested by the piece's title, resulting in a strange and uncanny atmosphere. The third track repeats the repetitive concept with circular breathing on the reed-trumpet, laying the foundation for the deeper and darker single tone by Wooley, melting into a fragrance of deep yearning and sadness.

The album's overall result is one of intimate sound explorations, fragile, vulnerable and sensitive yet determined at the same time.

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Torben Snekkestad - Conic Folded (Ilk, 2009) ****

In the presence of pianist Jon Balke and bassist Jonas Westergaard, Norwegian saxophonist Torben Snekkestad releases his first album, and not of the kind that you would expect from a debut. The reason is clear : you rarely have debut albums that bring a voice so fully formed, and with a musical vision that is so focused and unique. Snekkestad's approach is minimalistic, zen-like, and abstract at the same time. The listening is not easy, because of the unexpected turns, the avoidance of anything familiar, yet the fluency of the sounds, combined with the concentrated focus on sound variation and spontaneous interaction, make this a very rewarding album. The playing is quiet and soft by default, sensitive to the level of fragility, until you get sudden explosions of intensity, creating emotional release rather than shock effects. It is too gentle for shock indeed, even integrating strong boppish elements in the short "Zobob". And that is another great quality of the album: its restraint balance. On the title piece, it is only after a solo clarinet exploration of some four minutes, the piano suddenly joins for a few chords to end the track. On "EP Flower", he gives some three minutes of hypnotic circular breathing over Balke's muted plucked strings, suddenly lifting the intensity of the album, only to move back to their subdued poetic musical artistry on "Icon". Some musicians spew notes in vast quantities and loud volume, as if there's an abundance of them, Snekkestad and band prefer less quantity, more quality and low volume intensity, as if notes were a sparse resource that need to be cherished and valued one by one. Avant-garde of the mature kind.

Listen and download from eMusic.

© stef

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Torben Snekkestad & Barry Guy - Slip Slide And Collide (Maya, 2014) ****

By Stef  

Both Norwegian saxophonist Torben Snekkestad and British bassist Barry Guy have been classically educated and have performed and released classical CDs, but they are equally active in modern music and jazz. On this duo set, both musicians improvise on thirteen relatively short pieces, and what they bring us is more than worth listening to.

The album's title, "Slip, Slide and Collide", is taken from a metaphor of the movement of tectonic plates on our planet's crust, and gives an indication of what both musicians do, but then it doesn't, because it reduces their interplay to some mechanical geographic occurences, instead of intentional dialogues, which can be fierce, but also gentle, and even emotional. 'Utsira', the first track gives a good example of the latter, when Snekkestad's sax howls like a sad dog, with notes being bended to higher pitches, full of agony. In 'Ombo', the two musicians engage in a more parlando discussion, with short bursts full or surprise and antagony.

On the long 'Gurumna" we get the opposite: the bowed bass creates a foundation of long stretched notes, an invitation for the sax to join in the dark and ominous atmosphere, which is wonderfully dispelled by the almost joyous and lyrical 'Silda', on which the sax sounds warm and round, while the bass sounds like tumbling pebbles.

My favorite track is 'Cruit', a sensitive and beautiful interaction between bowed bass and high-pitched sax.

These two artists know their instruments, they sense each other well, and use the space for maximum contribution, including the occasional silence or resonance. One of the better sax and bass duets of the last years.

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Mark Solborg - 4+4+1 (ILK 2012) ****½

 Reviewed by Joe

Well this is one of those discs I wished I'd heard earlier, it would definitely have been on my top CDs of 2012. Anyhow, it seems this one,like a few others we're reviewing recently, slipped through the net and got left to one side. Furthermore ILK has steadily been releasing some excellent albums over the past few years, some of which have been reviewed here and often with very positive remarks. 

I remember reviewing another record of with Mark Solborg (see below) which also impressed me. His ability to cross between improvised and composed seems one of the major strengths in his style. This extended line up also moves very gracefully between completely improvised passages into beautifully written material. His writing uses a rich mixture of brass that includes a tuba and a bass, really giving the music real punch yet also bringing a very warm and rich sound to the ensemble. The group playing is very high quality, judging dynamics, solo space, tempos and open improvised sections down to a 't'. There isn't one wasted minute on the record.

Looking at the musicians below you'll notice Chris Speed, the +1 in the ensemble. His solos when they appear are spot on as always, but it's refreshing to hear that Solborg didn't over use him, giving over plenty of space to his other musicians as well. One voice that stands out is that of Gunnar Halle, a fine trumpeter from the same lineage as Arve Henriksen or Jon Hassell. Halle gets to shine on the delicate '2620' (tk2), sounding like a voice echoing in a valley that drifts around you in the early morning air. He also unites the ensemble on the excellent 'The Whispers' (tk4), where along with Anders Banke's fine bass clarinet playing the two horns rise above the group, gradually bringing them back together like a feather landing. Solborg takes a 'modest' position in the group, adding dynamics, chords, doubling melodies (etc) as needed. But of course he leaves his mark not only with his very subtle interjections but also with the immaculate compositions.

The music is so full of details that I expect every listen will bring out new details. Furthermore they are all fairly lengthy pieces, which makes for perfect listening. Every one - five in all - has something unique, an ambience, or a theme which is developed throughout the composition by using free improvised sections, ostinatos, silence and hard hitting themes. A theme like 'Almost' (tk3) unfolds from a simple drum/tenor sax duet into ensemble passages which each time open up to more collective improvisations, yet unknowingly we are transported into a menacing theme which has somehow crept in without anyone noticing. All this simply shows how well this music has been crafted together, and was probably, from what we hear, a great concert also. However, luckily for us it's all on the record, so to say!

Very highly recommended.

A few tags could be: Human Feel, Marc Ducret (Sens de la Marche), Trygve Seim (Sangam), The Dorf.

On this record, recorded live in 2007, the line-up is made up of two quartets: Anders Banke (tenor sax/bass clarinet), Solborg (gtr), Jeppe Skovbakke (bass), Bjørn Heebøll (drums) + Gunnar Halle (tmpt), Laura Toxværd (alto sax), Torben Snekkestad (tenor:soprano saxes/clarinet), Jakob Munck (tuba/trombone) + Chris Speed (tenor/clarinet) = 4+4+1.

For all those interested you can get a listen via Deezer .... before buying!

p.s. Look out for Solborg's new record (reviewing soon) with his quintet including Herb Robertson and Evan Parker ... great stuff, I can assure you!      

Some of Ilk's releases reviewed on our blog here:

• Soren Kjaergaard / Ben Street / Andrew Cyrille - Femklang (Ilk 2011)
• Bigoni, Solborg and Brow - Hopscotch (Ilk Records 2011)
• Han Bennink Trio - Parken (ILK, 2009)
• Torben Snekkestad - Conic Folded (Ilk, 2009)
• Lotte Anker, Craig Taborn, Gerald Cleaver - Floating Islands (Ilk 2009)
• Steven Bernstein, Marcus Rojas, Kresten Osgood - Tattoos and Mushrooms (ILK Music, 2009)
• Lotte Anker, Craig Taborn, Gerald Cleaver - Live At The Loft (ILK, 2009)

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Barry Guy & The London Jazz Composers Orchestra - Harmos-Krakow (Not Two Records, 2022)

By Stef Gijssels, Eyal Hareuveni, Gary Chapin & Martin Schray

We're in for our second CD box by Barry Guy, this time containing 6 CDs, recorded at Alchemia Club in Kraków, Poland on March 6th, 2020, and at Manggha Hall in Kraków on March 7th & March 8th 2020.

The London Jazz Composers Orchestra refers to London as a European-international musical capital and to jazz only as a reference point for more free, challenging music. It is the British answer to the Jazz Composers Orchestra created by Michael Mantler and Cecil Taylor in the US with possibly all free jazz luminaries of the late 60s and early 70s.

Like Guy’s meeting With Friends two years before in the same Alchemia Club in Kraków, the small formations’ live improvisations before an appreciative audience serve as an aperitif for the upcoming orchestral compositions of Guy’s “Flow” and “Harmos-Kraków”.

All improvisations are by members of the "London Jazz Composers Orchestra", first in smaller ensembles, with the grand finale on the sixth CD, offering a rendition of Guy's composition "Harmos". It is the Orchestra's 13th album since 1972.


CD1 - March 6th 2020, Alchemia Club

The first CD starts with a quartet consisting of Barry Guy on bass, Lucas Niggli on drums, Simon Picard on tenor sax, and Michael Nieseman on alto. After some initial explorations, the music finds a common level of interaction, calm at first, subdued and intimate. The two saxes take the lead role, allowed to shine by the strong rhythm section, and wonderfully falling in an almost unison ending. The second piece is an eight minute duet between Julius Gabriel on baritone and Henry Lowther on trumpet. For me, it is a discovery to hear these two musicians who have rarely released as leaders. Their dialogue is friendly and warm, and halfway Gabriel increases the intensity of the interaction. The third piece is again a quartet, clocking at 23 minutes by Andreas Tschopp and Conrad Bauer on trombones, Richard Laughlin on trumpet, and Marc Unternährer on tuba. The horn quartet takes the listener on a journey through dissonance, harmonies, moments of calm, and a rhythmic vamp near the end, organised by Unternährer. The CD is an excellent introduction to some of the members of the London Jazz Composers Orchestra who are less known and less recorded at least. (Stef Gijssels)

CD2 - March 6th 2020, Alchemia Club

The second CD also brings three ensembles, the first one with Torben Snekkestad on sax, Agustí Fernández on piano, and Barry Guy on bass. The initial dialogue between the bass and the sax is fierce, to say the least. The piano soothens things a bit, yet the overall atmosphere remains ominous and dark.
This is followed by a duet between Allan Tomlison on trombone and Phil Wachsmann on violin. Even if at first sight the combination of the heavy horn and the light string instrument might seem odd, both musicians make it an entertaining listen. The CD ends with a long quartet between Jürg Wickihalder on alto, Lucas Niggli on percussion, Bruno Chevillon on cello and Martin Eberle on trumpet. It is one of the most uptempo and joyful pieces you will find on the album, brilliantly propulsed forward by Niggli and Chevillon. There are moments of fun, of exhiliration and brutal intensity. A wonderful closer to the second CD, and with understandable applause by the enthusiastic audience. (Stef Gijssels)


CD3 - March 7th 2020, Manggha Hall

The quintet of trumpeter Henry Lowther, who played in previous formations of the Orchestra, German baritone sax player Julius Gabriel, who played in the Blue Shroud Band, Catalan pianist Agustí Fernández, French double bass player Bruno Chevillon, who played before with Guy in a trio with Belgian pianist Fred Van Hove, and Swiss drummer Lucas Niggli, a frequent collaborator of Guy, begin with an extended, urgent and muscular, free jazz improvisation that constantly shapeshifts its dynamics, but with Lowther taking the lead most of the time. The trio of Chevillon, Gabriel and Swiss tubaist Marc Unternähre in his first Guy’s project, explores patiently and gently soft, deep tones. This disc ends with the chamber trio of German alto sax player Michael Niesemann, Fernández and violinist Phil Wachsmann, all long-standing collaborators of Guy. This extended improvisation begins with a series of beautiful, lyrical melodies but later opts for more open, impressionist and even abstract dynamics. (Eyal Hareuveni)


CD4 - March 7th 2020, Manggha Hall

The fourth disc begins with extended improvisation of the reeds and brass quintet of Norwegian sax player and trumpeter Torben Snekkestad, American trumpeter Rich Laughlin, German trombonist Konard Bauer and trombonist Alan Tomlinson, all played with the Orchestra before, and Austrian trumpeter Martin Eberle in his first Guy’s project, sketching at first a fragile and ethereal drone piece that slowly and methodically expands its power and volume, employing an impressive array of extended breathing techniques while exploring nuance, lyrical ideas. It is followed by a powerful and intense free jazz improvisation of a sextet of tenor sax player Simon Picard, Swiss alto sax player Jürg Wickihalder and trombonist Andreas Tschopp, Niggli, all played before with the Orchestra, and French double bass player Bruno Chevillon and Guy himself. Again, this formation investigates orchestral possibilities with impressive command, and risk-taking but with great focus and driving rhythmic force, testifying to Guy’s excellent choice of improvisers who can realize his complex but always inspiring musical visions. (Eyal Hareuveni)

CD5 - March 8th 2020, Manggha Hall

Disc 5 contains two tracks, Flow II (17:18) and Flow I (24:12), in that order. Each has an arc to it and each demonstrates one of the qualities I love most about this outfit: it's ability to create space and small separate sound worlds, and to resist the urge to play everything all at once, because you can.

Flow II starts in waking up space. Bowed strings on their own for about seven minutes. They fade away and a baritone sax (pretty sure) plays a rattle-y drone-ish thing that becomes ground for other reeds. Different timbres get their solos, and layers enter upon layers until finally they are, in fact, playing everything all at once and it is a well-earned joy. It's a disciplined piece, this. Slowly it turns, step by step.

Flow I lives with more groove, which is fun in itself but also a great foil for the autre. The central moments are a cymbal-less drum solo that puts out an abundance of creative ideas that are answered by everyone else throughout the piece. (By Gary Chapin)

CD6 - March 8th 2020, Manggha Hall

The first time I heard Harmos was at the 2008 Schaffhausen Jazz Festival. It was one of the rare times that Barry Guy was able to get the London Jazz Composers Orchestra (LJCO) together to rehearse and perform. When he started the ensemble in the early 1970s the times for such orchestras and such music were definitely better. In an interview he told the German daily “taz“ that the British Council used to send such large formations to far-flung countries to counter the bad post-colonial image of the Empire with something positive as jazz. In the meantime, however, the organizational effort has become too great and too expensive, he said. This is literally a pity for everyone, because that’s the reason why we can hear compositions like Harmos, which can be called Guy’s magnum opus without any doubt, only very rarely. The first version of the piece was recorded in April 1989, just before the LJCO’s 20th anniversary, in Zurich and was first released later that year. There might have been more performances, the ones I’m aware of took place at the Berlin JazzFest in 1998, another ten years later at the aforementioned Schaffhausen Jazz Festival, and in 2018 at Vienna’s Porgy and Bess club. Now Barry Guy has recorded it again with a much different line-up in Kraków.

Whereas in 1989 the orchestra was a Who’s Who of the British improviser scene, today it’s a collection of first-rate European musicians, with five from Switzerland alone, Guy’s place of residence. Of the original lineup, only Simon Picard (sax), Alan Tomlinson (tb), Henry Lowther (tp), Phil Wachsmann (v) and Guy himself are still with the group. What is more, he has added a tuba (Marc Unternährer) and a second bass (Bruno Chevillon).

Harmos itself has become a classic of avant-garde big band jazz. German jazz critic Bert Noglik called it “a feast, a celebration, a great chant“. Whoever heard the piece would never forget it. I felt the same way after the Schaffhausen concert, and even 14 years later the piece has lost none of its fascination, even if the structure is the same as in the 2022 version: The start with its abrupt, whiplash-like chords that structure the opening improvisation of the two trombones. The hint of the great theme superimposed over the two trombones. How it slowly ebbs away. Light as a feather, a saxophone soars up. It continues to spin the melody, reminiscent of Iberian folk songs. Finally, the full orchestra enters on this melody and the saxophones drop out. The structure is almost imperceptibly turned upside down. Then, after ten minutes, a break occurs. A kind of hunting music in the style of Richard Wagner is heard. In no other piece by the LJCO Barry Guy’s classical musical socialization is more evident. At the same time, a difference to the original becomes apparent in this version, because with the help of the muffler the trumpet sounds like a wah-wah guitar. The piece then continues as if at a gallop, the orchestra rushing mercilessly forward to almost sink into a maelstrom of collective improvisation before the intermediate theme is taken up again.

The final part of the piece is then introduced by a piano trio covering Guy’s romantic side. But the harmony is short-lived, as a crazy, completely free improvisation forms the final climax. This climax is again and again attacked by tutti parts of the orchestra, which keeps interspersing the main theme.

Ultimately, there’s an almost hypnotic effect. Harmos is a massive anthem in which free improvisations are layered over large orchestral melodic arcs. “My music is about the struggle for survival, and you have to feel that," Barry Guy said about his piece. As a kind of manifesto, it clarifies Barry Guy’s idea of composing: Structure and improvisation are set in tension with each other, wild solo and duo parts are put against the backdrop of the expressive, hymn-like melodic thematic material, which in its variations shapes the whole piece like a kind of heartbeat. Even today, after 33 years, Harmos is still a masterpiece. (By Martin Schray)

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Barry Guy And Friends - Krakov 2018 (Not Two Records, 2022)

By Stef Gijssels, Eyal Hareuveni, Nick Ostrum

If we can trust the completeness of the Discogs website's archival power, British bassist Barry Guy has been credited on no less than 558 albums, which is impressive enough, and includes 105 albums in which he has a lead role. Classically trained, Guy became rapidly interested in improvisation and jazz, performing with likeminded spirits such as Howard Riley, John Stevens, Trevor Watts and Tony Oxley to name just a few, yet he remained a classical bassist, as a member of The Orchestra of St.John’s Smith Square, City of London Sinfonia, Monteverdi Orchestra, The Academy of Ancient Music, Kent Opera and The London Classical Players.

His interest is in the music itself, not the genre or style, and a lot of his work breaks through boundaries but can also reconcile organically different kinds of music. His work on the double bass is equally innovative, with lots of inventive techniques. His solo work, his collaborations in small ensembles, including the duets with his wife, the violinist Maya Homburger, and his work for large ensemble are all easy to recommend, even if the listening experience and the degree of composition can vary significantly. With Barry Guy, you have no idea what the next album will bring, and that's as we like it.

Not Two records bundled two box sets with concerts, the first one "Barry Guy and Friends", giving us perfromances that took place at the Alchemia Club in Kraków on October 11 and 12, 2018, and on Radio Kraków the next day. In the next days we will als review his performance with the "London Jazz Composers' Orchestra" recorded at Alchemia Club in Kraków on March 6th, 2020, and at Manggha Hall in Kraków on March 7th & March 8th 2020.

The value of both boxes is that you get a brilliant overview of Barry Guy's music and stylistic scope.

Let's get started.

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CD 1 - Alchemia Club

The first CD starts with an introductory performance by Percy Pursglove on trumpet, Rafal Mazur on electric bass and Ramon Lopez on drums. Ramon Lopez and Barry Guy released "Sidereus Nuncius - The Starry Messenger", and this trio already released "Threefold" some years ago, and they are excellent to set the scene for the concert. Their interaction is strong on the first long piece, that gives them the opportunity for the improvisation to develop fully. Three masters at work and the result is of high quality.

The next two pieces are by the Aurora Trio, a trio consisting of Agusti Fernández, Barry Guy and Ramon López. The nature of the music is completely different, more welcoming to start, and Fernández leads the improvisation with a post-boppish theme and harmonies, tightly aligned with the rhythm section, and also with the kind of telekinetic interaction that drives the sound through different levels of intensity and intimacy. Their second improvisation is even more astonishing, with a hard-to-believe-that-it-is-improvised intro, so thight is the interaction, now with Mette Rasmussen on sax. The post-bop feel is gone now, and the tone is a free-for-all high energy power play, with the Danish saxophonist leading the assault, leading to an interesting and intense duet with the Spanish pianist in the middle section, until López drives up the power and the volume, which unleashes some ferocious sounds from Rasmussen,. And Barry Guy in this? His playing is of course excellent but he seldom comes to the fore, allowing the other musicians to shine. (By Stef Gijssels)

CD 2 - Alchemia Club

The second CD starts with two relatively short duets between Ken Vandermark and Barry Guy, a relatively unique and rare historical moment in the musical career of both free improv luminaries. Fans will be pleased to hear this, the first of its kind since their duo recording "Occasional Poems" from 2015 (and in trio with Mark Sanders on "Fox Fire" from 2008). A moment to cherish. On the two following improvisations, they are joined by Paul Lytton on drums and Percy Pursglove on trumpet. The first one starts with almost quiet, the sound of air through brass, without voice, leading to some ferocious screams on the trumpet, answered by Vandermark's sax, first isolated, then kicking in some rhythm and longer lines. They play with silence, and leave Guy's bass to lead them back into the start of the real quartet playing, with Lytton driving up the speed, the volume and the energy. What follows is one of those no holds barred free for alls that actually work, with Pursglove once in a while trying to add a thematic line, wonderfully incorporated and transformed by Vandermark. The sonic wall moves in waves with some space for individual excursions, but they are mostly at their highest level of physical possibilities, all four, all the time. Highly enjoyable, as is testified by the enthusiastic audience. The last and shortest track starts somewhat quieter, yet it gradually picks up some momentum into full free improv. (By Stef Gijssels)

CD 3 - Alchemia Club

One way of listening to Barry Guy’s small formations With Friends is interpreting theses improvisations as his way to investigate his compositional ideas or strategies with trusted comrades, live before an appreciative audience in the Alchemia Club in Kraków before the final performance of the whole ensemble in Radio Kraków. Norwegian sax player and trumpeter Torben Snekkestad and Catalan pianist Agustí Fernández are among Guy’s closest comrades and have worked with him in a trio and with his Blue Shroud Band, so, naturally, their 33-minute improvisation emphasizes their strong affinity as well as their gift to translate free improvised ideas into a beautifully nuanced, instant but coherent composition. Their piece is one of the highlights of this box set. The following three short improvisations on the third disc are with Spanish drummer Ramón López, who also played in the Blue Shroud Band, with Guy and Fernández as the Aurora Trio, as a duo with Guy and in the quartet of pianist Izumi Kimura, with Polish electric bass player Rafał Mazur, who played with Guy in Fernández’ 60 Birthday (River Tiger Fire, FSR, 2015). This trio suggests a layered but hyperactive and urgent rhythmic conception that employs an array of extended bowing and percussive techniques and may be implemented later in Guy’s composition for the whole ensemble. (By Eyal Hareuveni)

CD 4 - Alchemia Club

Ken Vandermark hosted Danish sax player Mette Rasmussen in his Entr’Acte ensemble but never recorded before with Snekkestad. This chamber reed trio plays three short, dramatic and highly playful improvisations that highlight the immediate affinity as well as the distinct languages of these experienced and strong-minded improvisers, with Rasmussen even speaking gibberish through her alto sax. Then Rasmussen joins Guy and his long-time comrade, veteran British drummer Phil Lytton for an extended improvisation that begins as a fiery, free jazz improvisation but later accumulates many imaginative, lyrical and poetic twists and turns before its cathartic coda. Rasmussen who is half the age of Both Guy and Lytton feels at home with these experienced lions. This disc is concluded with another extended quintet improvisation with Fernández and trumpeter Percy Pursglove, who also plays in the Blue Shroud Band, joining Rasmussen, Guy and Lytton.This improvisation begins to investigate the complex orchestral outlines of Guy’s upcoming ensemble composition “For To End Yet Again”, but demands individual poetic contributions. (By Eyal Hareuveni)

CD 5 - Radio Kraków

Personnel: Barry Guy (bass, director, composer); Maya Homburger (baroque violin); Agustí Fernández (piano); Percy Pursglove (trumpet); Mette Rasmussen, Mats Gustafsson, Liudas Mockūnas (saxophones); Torben Snekkestad (saxophone, reed trumpet); Rafał Mazur (e-bass); Paul Lytton and Ramón López (percussion)

Disc Five consists of the world premiere performance of the piece For to End Yet Again, which, unlike the other discs in this collection, were recorded at Radio Krakow. Barry Guy is the prime composer, though some passages are miniatures composed by György Kurtág. Unfortunately, I cannot weigh in which these specific ones are, but I can say they blend beautifully into the larger piece. Nothing sounds out of place, despite various constituent dynamic shifts.

For to End Yet Again begins with a lone quavering bass tone. Soon, Maya Homburger’s violin joins in and the two engage in a slow dance of call-and-response, with Homburger forging the melody and bass(es) relying on single drones and a few steady plucks. This sets a melancholic mood. Five minutes in, the rest of the ensemble trickles in, eventually breaking out into some more energetic group improvs (first around minute 15), those even these quickly dissolve in smaller configurations and eventually dilute into the slow, somber dialog between Guy, Homburger and, often enough, Mazur.

This persistent focus on strings really makes this piece. The band, comprising a formidable 11 members (and including some famously heavy blowers) primarily plays a supporting role, and, at many points, a silent role. They intervene to punctuate or fill out the sound, generally sparse small groupings. Only in a few instances, however, do they persist and steer the group from its spare, elegiac core. Around 50 minutes in and nearing the end, the ensemble reaches a point of opening when the band falls into a tone-to-long-tone volley. Almost organically, this collapses into a brief but emphatic free-blow fanfare, which dissolves into a latent hum as quickly as it had emerged.

Especially for those drawn to bigger units, this recording is absolutely worth checking out, as is the rest of Kraków 2018. (By Nick Ostrum)

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Two Guys

By Colin Green

Barry Guy & Ken Vandermark – Occasional Poems (Not Two Records, 2015) ****

In November 2008, Ken Vandermark (reeds), Barry Guy (double bass) and Mark Sanders (drums) undertook a short tour of England. Two of the gigs, from Birmingham and Leeds, appeared on Fox Fire (Maya Recordings, 2009), one of Vandermark’s most impressive recordings where he rises to the challenge of playing with Guy and the new areas into which this pushed him.

Guy and Vandermark played again six years later in November 2014 at the Alchemia Club in Kraków during the ninth Autumn Jazz Festival, their first time as a duo. Guy was at the end of a week-long residency with his Blue Shroud band and Vandermark (who has a work ethic that puts the rest of us to shame) had agreed to the date at the end of over two months on the road, exhausted and travelling to the sound check direct from the airport. And yet, as is often the case with impromptu meetings in trying circumstances, as Vandermark says, “something special happened”.

On this album, we have nine of the pieces they performed over two sets. The titles have been provided by Guy, inspired by the poet Robert Lax, whose poems have distinctive layouts and make use of the repetition and permutation of a small body of words. According to Guy, “his singular focus on the world around his chosen space is indicative of the way improvisers work – gathering, analysing, inventing and trading ideas in the moments that we are allowed to express our art.” A fair general description of much of what’s going on with he and Vandermark, but works of abstract theatre that takes place in a rarefied realm, the nuances of which have no precise descriptive equivalent.

With Guy, one gets not just the standard dimensions – the melodic (horizontal) and chordal (vertical) – but the opening up of a third dimension in which shapes move and merge in a continual state of flux. The brilliant intensity of his playing has been likened to the flow of molten lava, the kind of thing that prompted Cecil Taylor to observe, “If I played bass I'd play the way you play”. Guy’s distinctive style is generated from the sonorities of his instrument and idiosyncratic actions (plucked, bowed, scraped, sometimes all three together) and the various treatments and devices he uses, resulting in a very personal vocabulary. But it’s also a language so rich – a sound world that has an almost visible texture, full of ridges, offshoots, nooks and crannies – that other musicians can’t fail but to be inspired. It probably helps not to think too much, and simply respond on a visceral level: exactly the condition of the weary Vandermark. Throughout, one feels the thrill of their having absolutely no idea where they’re going to end up.

At the most general level, these duos explore convergences and conflicts between two voices: communicative and non-communicative, sympathetic and contrasting. Right from the bell, they both go for it. ‘Nature is a Wolf’ is dominated by Guy’s repeated sliding chord, like an incessant cry, and Vandermark’s gnarled, hyper-compressed line. As the titles suggest ‘Light cuts Shadow’ and the ensuing ‘Shadow cuts Light’ can be seen as plays on positive and negative space, contrasting sides of the same thing. In the first, both instruments match each other in mood and texture as if mirroring different aspects of the same material: long, high notes, slithered bowing against rapid scales and leaps on the clarinet, ostinato figures locking them together, even a brief folksy episode. In the second piece the complimentary contrasts are this time in register, long resonant notes on the bass clarinet against dense spicatto and pizzicato on the bass. Roles are then reversed when Vandermark switches to the top end of his range and Guy descends to the lower.  The remainder of the piece alternates between these two areas, with contrasting levels of energy. ‘I will Sing to You of The Moments’ is an exercise in perpetual motion, repeated patterns never quite symmetric, moving in and out of alignment and becoming more elaborate as the piece progresses.

There are times however, when Guy and Vandermark seem engaged in two distinct trains of thought, juxtaposed rather than in dialogue. On ‘States of Being’ which opens the second set, they start in the same place but rapidly move in different directions, wrapped in the virtuosic expansion of their own material, side by side, eventually acknowledging the presence of the other and returning to common ground, and finishing with a unison flourish.

Not only do relations change, so do characters and locations. Vandermark can move at will between different provinces in the landscape of free jazz, reflecting his wide-ranging interests, musical and otherwise. This means he doesn’t have a style so much as a series of self-imposed personae. He experiments, not with inclusiveness – trying to cover as much ground as possible – but by moderation, narrowing the range of ideas, colours and textures for each improvisation, the better to explore his chosen region, adjusting focus as he moves from one piece to the next. Vandermark is aware of the importance of boundaries. On ‘Pan Metron Ariston [Every Good Thing In Measure]’ (an old Greek saying) for tenor alone, he limits himself to a blues tune as the basis for a study in split notes, distortion and overtones, contrasted with staccato tonguing and key clatter, sounding a little like a combination of Mats Gustafsson and Peter Brötzmann, (with whom he’s played in the trio Sonore). In “Riding the Air’ there’s a continuous line of smeared gestures and phrases on bass clarinet, mainly in the lower registers, as if in mimicry of Guy’s bass which responds in like kind, resulting in mutual imitations. Broken off by Guy’s change of pace and a solemn plucked tune, Vandermark moves back providing gentle sustained notes in accompaniment as Guy’s melody and subtle harmonics sing with ever greater eloquence.

‘Black, White, Red, Blue’ is a bass solo, beginning with a simple succession of plucked glissandi notes which alternate with passages employing an ever increasing range of techniques and devices, below the bridge up to bouncing sticks threaded through the strings. Each time the glissandi notes return they become a richer melody, and as the two textural areas switch their opposition increases, perhaps reflected in the title – pairings of tonal opposites and complimentary colours.

The encore is ‘Curving of the Wave’, a series of quick-fire bursts and exchanges between tenor and bass suggesting that both players had been reinvigorated by their meeting.

The Living Room + Barry Guy – Live at Literathaus (Ilk, 2015) ****

As well as playing in long standing groups and with seasoned musicians, Barry Guy likes to take chances with new ensembles and younger players. Multitude (Cave12, 2010) recorded with Diatribe, a duo of laptop and drums, is a good example, as is this album recorded at Literathaus in Copenhagen in December, 2012 with The Living Room: Torben Snekkestad (saxophones & reed-trumpet), Søren Kjærgaard (piano & keyboards), Thomas Strønen (drums). There’s nothing to suggest the trio were overwhelmed by Guy’s presence (he and Snekkestad had previously recorded Slip Slide and Collide) and Guy is a consummate ensemble musician – unsurprising given his work with everyone from Derek Bailey (subsequently, Philipp Wachsmann) and Paul Rutherford in Iskra 1903, which set new standards in group listening, to the Academy of Ancient Music, one of the pioneering orchestras devoted to period instruments and ‘historically informed’ performance.

These three improvisations can be likened to a whirling constellation – forming, dissolving and reforming – so that no element remains fixed. They’re packed with incident and contrast, frequently eschewing the navigable in favour of multiplicity. ‘Part #1’ brims with activity, simultaneous and overlapping, sometimes focused other times divergent, switching from the bold and assured to gossamer delicacy like a succession of jump cuts.

‘Part #2’ is more restrained: hammered strings on the piano and bass, light percussion and Snekkestad on reed-trumpet (a trumpet with a saxophone reed, having a limited range of notes and distinctive timbre). He plays low burrs over Guy’s glassy bowings and glacial chords on piano. There’s a gentle duet between saxophone and pizzicato bass which becomes more urgent when joined by rapid runs on the piano, increasing in intensity until Snekkestad’s tensile line hangs over a blur of piano, bass and drums. The piece ends with the ripple effect of descending figures and a gradual decay into silence.

‘Part # 3’ opens with Snekkestad’s soprano saxophone cutting through a tangled rain forest of percussive sound. The texture thins out to soft pluckings and scrapings and then builds up again over a web of bass and drums before dying out with light repeated phrases on piano and synthesiser. A piece of ebb and flow.

Both albums are demanding, requiring careful scrutiny and the re-evaluation of expectations. It’s not that they’re cutting-edge (a questionable desideratum) but they involve a complexity of thought and shifting relations which need to be grasped in order to appreciate the movement and balance between the constituent parts, a sign of the depth and capacity for renewal the musical language provides. Words still have some catching up to do, but descriptions will always fall short.

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