The Utopia of Better Processes: An Interview with Christian Lillinger

Photo by Nino Halm

By Ljubisa Tosic*

Anyone lucky enough to have seen Christian Lillinger's project Open Form for Society live in 2019 at Donaueschingen or at the Jazzfest Berlin will easily understand why he calls it a "sound organ." After years on hiatus, the drummer is now reviving this deeply resonant project.

When one confronts Christian Lillinger with prominent colleagues' names, intending to find out how lasting his encounters with figures such as Rolf Kühn, Joachim Kühn, David Liebman, Alexander von Schlippenbach, or John Tchicai may have been, he responds with a staccato stream of additional names that have inscribed themselves into his musical biography:

Tamara Stefanovich, Mat Maneri, Craig Taborn, Joe Lovano, Christopher Dell, Peter Brötzmann, Beat Furrer, Peter Evans, Sofia Jernberg, John Schröder, Bob Degen, Lotte Anker, Barre Phillips, Evan Parker, Wadada Leo Smith, William Parker, Ernst-Ludwig Petrowsky, and many others...

Of course. When it comes to lasting influence, says Lillinger, "It's a difficult matter." To speak only about 0.1 percent of those influences would be unfair.

On the other hand, there were naturally his own decisions and major life steps that were connected to certain individuals. Lillinger speaks first of the decision "to start playing drums at all," and then of "having the opportunity, at sixteen, coming from a village, to study and pursue a professional path."

Here the support of Günther "Baby" Sommer, a towering figure of free jazz, was essential. "Another decisive moment was getting to know Joachim Kühn, who encouraged me to manifest my own music." From this ultimately emerged Christian Lillinger's Grund, an ensemble known for its distinctive dynamic forms of interplay.

If we continue digging deeper, Lillinger agrees that his search for a controlled freedom and openness in music-making is connected to personally perceived limitations- such as the traditional role of the drummer in jazz- as well as to his own biographical experiences:

My outlook was shaped by independence from a very early age. At the same time, I believe the classical role of the jazz drummer should be one of further development and expansion. Tradition is a constantly evolving form while preserving its roots.

For him, tradition also means, "being able to articulate oneself freely on one's instrument and develop one's own language." No surprise, then, that Lillinger regards jazz itself "as an art music" that demands alertness and continuous development.

Only in this way, he argues, can one do justice to the legacy of great innovators and carry their heritage forward through one's own artistic stance. "Everything else is dead music to me- music that merely fulfills a certain mood or expectation and thereby loses its timelessness. That interests me very little..."

Listening to Lillinger's music, it quickly becomes apparent that here is someone who hovers powerfully above stylistic boundaries. It is therefore tempting to throw a few more names and concepts at him to discover if he is influenced by contemporary classical music. Perhaps the aleatoric methods of John Cage or the open-form concepts of Karlheinz Stockhausen and Earle Brown play a role. 

 

Open Form for Society group shot. Photo by Nadja Hoehfeld.

Perhaps the great sonic precision known from works by Pierre Boulez is also essential, particularly for the current and second recording by his ensemble Open Form For Society (OFFS). "Aleatoricism plays no role whatsoever in OFFS," says Lillinger. "My music is very concretely composed and written down in conventional notation."

Nevertheless, influences from contemporary classical music are numerous. He describes them with terms such as "serial" and "microtonal." His musical thinking also revolves around traditions such as spectralism, New Complexity, and concepts of micro-time and irrational time. These are, he says, "important procedural and inspirational sources."

Someone who formulates his ideas so consciously can perhaps summarize his aesthetic position in something approaching a manifesto:

It is a "new new" chamber music that incorporates space into its actions just as much as what is prescribed and written. The placement and interpretation of the notes are always in dialogue with spatiality. The performers create the space; within this space they navigate themselves. I am opposed to genre labels, so I would rather speak of "post-genre" and of "composer-performers," because everyone involved bears responsibility for shaping and further developing the material. It is a music that operates in a certain scientific manner and thereby continuously discovers new paths.

Immersing oneself in the recording Open Form for Society II (Plaist), one feels as though embarking on a journey through an enchanted sonic garden that gathers collective musical reflexes and conveys an atmosphere of highly energized, controlled freedom.

At times there are slowed-down events reminiscent of musical stalactite caves, as in "Aufgefächert." Elsewhere pulsating sound structures emerge, creating an almost nervous sonic world. Abstract piano figures and energetically charged sound spaces continually return, while density is omnipresent within this sounding architecture.

"Vector" and "Ocker" recall an originally abstracted and further-developed bebop aesthetic, yet with their own freely treated thematic material and repetitive patterns. Introspective and expressive structures form the poles of this musical universe.

How does such a world, constantly shifting between these poles, come into being? Does the personnel come first, or the composition?

It is a very heterogeneous process, one that I wanted to pursue as naturally as possible. Initially there was the vision of assembling a larger ensemble with a strongly percussive sonic language that reflects my way of seeing and realizing structure. Here the sound of Boulez's Sur Incises was an important inspiration.

At the same time, his work with nearly all of the musicians involved in various ensembles was another important factor.

Whether Dell Lillinger Westergaard [DLW], Stemeseder-Lillinger, the collaborations with Petter Eldh and Kaja Draksler, with Robert Landfermann, or with Anna D'Errico through my work with Klangforum Wien- all of this was formative and gave me a clear idea of how and what I can write and hear.

It is fitting that Lillinger mentions Boulez's Sur Incises. With its instrumentation of three pianos, three harps, and three percussionists, it is a sonic laboratory, an organized form of energy that Lillinger has expanded upon. Alongside himself on drums and electronics are Kaja Draksler (upright piano), Elias Stemeseder (spinet and synthesizer), Georg Vogel (electric clavinet), Anna D'Errico and Cory Smythe (piano), bassists Robert Landfermann, Jonas Westergaard, and Petter Eldh, and Christopher Dell on vibraphone.

The process of selecting collaborators was equally heterogeneous:

The criteria emerged from previous work with all participants in different projects. For me, this ensemble is the perfect way to connect and transcend the worlds of classical music and modernity. Some musicians are primarily responsible for the text, others for further developments regarding sound. My musical utopia requires excellent preparation: precise reading, abstraction, further writing, and transcendence. In this ensemble I consciously distribute that responsibility.

Transcendence, he says, is less a concept than "a result of working with the material itself. We combine influences from contemporary classical music, the avant-garde, and modern beat culture, creating a common point of fusion. Everyone involved must be capable of developing their own further plan based on what is written."

What may sound free is nevertheless clearly prescribed in many respects and directions, including highly detailed polyphonic notation and rhythmic structures:

[This project] has very little to do with conventional notions of freedom and openness. Freedom begins with the possibilities of variation and dynamics. Through repetition and the slow variation within those repetitions, an individual space emerges. Everything conditions everything else and appears as a shared whole: a meta-instrument, a sonic organism.

Working with the same colleagues over a long period can, of course, lead to a comfortable routine. One knows what the other person will do, adapts accordingly, and clichés may emerge.

Lillinger sees it differently. "I don't see that danger. Because I work with the same musicians over a long period, a genuine awareness develops of what the next stages might be." Intensive work and insight make it possible "to take those next steps. With consistent and continuous work, neither boredom nor routine arise."

A convincing explanation.

This leaves the title Open Form for Society, which seems to suggest a close connection between music and social thought. "The collective negotiation of the music I initiate serves as the foundation and basis for negotiation."

Does this also concern ideas of an open, liberal society, or democracy?

The latter, absolutely! It concerns the utopia of a continually improving social process sustained through negotiation and the collective discovery of solutions. However, I must say that this project is more a sound that accompanies and encourages open processes than one that fully embodies them. Because I am the composer and initiator, it ultimately belongs more to a closed, albeit flexible, structure.

For the openness of jazz, it is far too fixed and strict; for classical music, however, it remains too open. "It therefore exists between these often rigid and ultimately inadequate categories and hopefully inspires further thinking about these social limitations. The point is this: Never stop communicating and working. Never stop thinking!"

This is Lillinger's ambitious approach. One that could also help people outside music avoid more than a few traps of cliché and convention. 

*Interview originally published in Jazz Podium, translated from German. 

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Christian Lillinger - Open Form for Society II (Plaist Records, 2026)

By Martin Schray

There is improvised music that grabs you right by the guts, the connection to this music is immediate and direct. Often you can feel it; it sweeps you away, strikes right to the core, and is able to lift you into a different state of consciousness. Peter Brötzmann and Joe McPhee, might come to the mind, Matana Roberts and Mette Rasmussen represent a younger generation. But there’s also music that takes a more intellectual approach, it’s harder to access, more abstract, more conceptual. That doesn’t mean it can’t move you, though - it just does it on a different level. The classic example of this would certainly be Anthony Braxton. Christian Lillinger’s projects also work this way - and they do so in a thoroughly fascinating way, especially when it’s his Open Form for Society outfit.

Lillinger describes the second album of his project as conceived, condensed chamber music - an exploration of sonic possibilities featuring a specially developed ensemble, which can be rightfully called a who’s who of modern European improvisers (plus an American one): Kaja Draksler (celesta, upright piano), Elias Stemeseder (harpsichord, synthesizer); Georg Vogel (claviton), Anna D’Errico and Cory Smythe (piano) make up the keyboard section, Robert Landfermann, Jonas Westergaard and Petter Eldh are on the basses, Christopher Dell is on vibraphone, and Lillinger himself is responsible for percussion and the composition of the music. Added to this are electronic and electroacoustic enhancements, conducted via metronome. Characteristic of this music are highly condensed conceptual structures and rhythmic polyphony, yet at the same time there’s a springy openness that makes it possible to appreciate this music even without prior knowledge of music theory. Spaces of freedom emerge every now and then, in which individual shaping and independent interpretative decisions become possible - and it’s precisely in these moments that the music happens to be more tangible and exciting.

At the heart of the album is the 14-minute “Poliform” - OFFS II in a nutshell, so to speak. Driven by flickering percussion and bone-dry basslines, the keyboards duel and support one another, creating expansive textures, breaking them up with rapid runs, and ensuring that the focus is constantly changing. Space and time are permanently shifted; it often sounds as if a cassette was wobbling along in an old cassette player. This creates the impression of coexisting temporal structures and a multitude of perspectives; rhythmic and harmonic cells are analyzed as if under a magnifying glass, only to then rewind the composition and direct the gaze toward a larger whole. The music thus eludes immediate grasp because it undergoes maximum change through its minimal shifts. Free jazz clusters exist alongside airy, transparent passages; frantic drum patterns reminiscent of pinball machine sounds are attacked by heavy bass lines. Here and there, a swing passage flashes briefly; in various corners of the room, individual keyboard chords flare up, only to burn out again very quickly.

One can hear this album as a musical inquiry into the relationship of time, a question once posed by Karl-Heinz Stockhausen and discussed here by Lillinger, but one can also simply enjoy tracks like “Topping Abnormal” for their unusual beauty, or the punk attitude of “Vector“. Another possibility is to explore the psychedelic side of “Setzung” or the heavy metal influences of “Plant.” For this album is, quite simply, a lot of fun.

In contrast to the first release, where the separation in the studio was the focus, OFFS II is about the unity of a shared space. The recordings were made in the studios of Deutschlandfunk in Cologne and reflect a sonic live image in which the entire material (with only a few overdubs) resounds and lives in a single room.

Open Form for Society II is available as a double album on vinyl, as a CD and as a download.

You can listen to parts of it and buy it here.

You can also watch a teaser of the recording sessions: 

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Hyper Elastic Jinx - We Vote Force Majeure (Barefoot Records, 2026)

By Brian Earley 

 

Let it happen at our peril.

 

This is the title of the final track on We Vote Force Majeure, a powerfully free set of collective improvisations by the band Hyper Elastic Jinx, and it is a prophetic warning.

 

For instance, climate change is projected to increase coastal flooding around Norway, Denmark, and Germany, where the musicians on this album primarily reside, by a factor of 10, 100, or even 1000 depending upon emissions scenarios.

 

“Let It Happen At Our Peril,” the song, opens with two saxophones, one the alto of Signe Emmeluth, one a tenor played by Nana Pi, both of whom are deeply connected to the Scandinavian experimental music scene. The saxophones warp and twist around each other as the song progresses. By mid-tune, the piece has erupted into a catastrophic explosion of sound, with drummer Halym Kim crashing down on the snare and cymbals, and guitarist Keisuki Matsuno firing hits and chords full of color and fuzzy, chorus-filled reverb that sounds to me like it's played on an old Fender amp built in the 1970s. Kim and Nana Pi have played extensively together on the Northern European scene, including on the 2022 album Tactical Maybe , a gorgeous and raucous experimental work I highly encourage everyone to check-out. Matsuno, on the other hand, has ties to the John Zorn world, playing on Zorn’s Bagatelles Volume 11 in 2022 with Jim Black. Emmeluth, of course, has forged a fiery reputation as dynamo of what the Free Jazz Collective has called The New Danish Thing.

 

But We Vote Force Majeure is not about its individual performers. It is an album of collective free improvisation for which all musicians share equally in the song-writing credits. It is a community in communion with the greater good, and despite my use of the word catastrophic in the previous paragraph, notes about the album on the Barefoot Records webpage state “The album is not an invocation of catastrophe, but a longing for a superior and irresistible force that people can’t ignore - a force that focuses on social values, cultural exchange and ecological sustainability.”

 

Despite this persistent optimism of the will, the album is meant to remind listeners “that the world and the structures we are living in are not socially, economically, ecologically or politically sustainable and benefit only a minority of people.”

 

The album warns it is “Always the Others,” the title of the second work on the record. Experts on the history of concentration camps point out that camps functioning in far away times and places are easily labeled as evil, while those erected and running here and now are commonly believed to hold the real bad guys. The individuals held in these places are so quickly othered. And, it is so easy for fascism to take root when its citizens believe it is always the others who face genuine danger. Here in the United States, for instance, by April 2026, 42,000 people with no prior criminal records were being detained in camps throughout the United States. These are camps for the mass detention of civilians, not war-time prisoners, who have not been given due process and were detained on the prejudicial basis of a larger group identity.

Perhaps “Let It Happen At Our Peril” and “Always the Others” call back and ahead philosophically to the album’s fourth track “Zero Point 75.” In the world of optometry, +0.75 Diopters is the lowest level used in a prescription to correct short-sightedness. The short sightedness of humanity may be a reality, but it is still at a correctable state. I don’t think the musicians play programmatically on this album, but I find it fitting that Halym Kim opens this song playing the drums as though it were the ticking of a manual alarm clock. We can only remain short sighted for so much time.

 

So, instead of shrinking away in despair of catastrophe, we can choose now to function like the example set by the musicians on this record: individually contributing to a working group dynamic. Here, this musical dynamic is one where the energy rises and washes over the listener more than any individual solo. The value is located in the spontaneous and present collective, not in a perfected show of musical virtuosity. It is force majeure: a force of such superior power that it is irresistible. And, as displayed on this wonderfully powerful album, it can be used as a force for good.

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JAZZ IS DEAD! FESTIVAL - Torino, May 29-31

By Ferruccio Martinotti

A small yet great festival that along the years brought into town the likes of Peter Brotzmann, Mats Gustafsson, The Necks, Zu, Oren Ambarchi, Jamie Branch, Boris, John Edwards, Evan Parker, just to name a few, earning the perennial gratefulness of a faithful, constantly increasing, legion of diehard followers. But not only. While the music industry is devouring itself in a sick cannibalism of insanely expensive gigs, pre-sale tickets in the clutches of mafia-like algorithms and fake sold-outs, here at JID! for 15 euros (10 if you can’t afford more and 40 for the 3 days pass) you can see concerts from morning till night, when even the most grindcore eardrums beg ENOUGH. For its ninth edition, the festival is moving from post-industrial warehouses (The Bunker) to the green grounds of a farmhouse (Cascina Falchera), less than a mile from the noisy and busy outskirts of the city. Trees, lawns, camping, showers, blankets on the grass, hammocks, and barefoot children running around, create a fun and enjoyable short circuit between a hippie-esque, micro-Woodstock atmosphere and a soundtrack that is the furthest from those muddy Peace & Love days. This year’s lineup highlights once again what a properly focused festival should be: a defined perimeter, within which to showcase the various facets of the "editorial" prism, setting aside the rhetoric of a headliner and a bunch of (often out of context) support bands in front of a bored/distracted/pissed off audience, frantically waiting for the Star. Then there's everyone's taste, as it should be. Below, ours.

DAY 1 

Lucrecia Dalt

The Colombian, Berlin based musician takes the stage with her guitar, flanked by bass/double bass, and drums for a set that, almost entirely, features her latest album, "A Danger to Ourselves," released last year. Her experimental electronica, a blend of avant-garde pop and dreamlike sound design, is always intriguing, but in its live outdoor dimension, it loses something compared to her recordings. 

 

Photo Fabiana Amato

Matmos

After 30 years spent mixing up and transforming all kinds of electronic madness into "enjoyable" music, Drew Daniel and M.C. Schmidt seem still eager to have fun, and, of course, so are we. Glitches, loops, beats, and a set of steel containers struck with concentrated mastery are the menu of the evening. For the final piece, to bid farewell to the audience, they launch an irresistible straight-kick, 4/4 groove, which, for people who used to record liposuctions in operating rooms, is truly Super Yacht Rock Time! Legendary.

Photo Fabiana Amato

DAY 2

Yazz Ahmed

The Bahraini-born trumpeter, here on flugelhorn, accompanied by Ralph Wyld on vibraphone, weaves wonderful sonic textures that blend jazz and psychedelia, all flavored with Arabic fragrances inspired by her home country: a rock-solid sonic bridge between ancient worlds and contemporary avant-garde. Sublime, even at 11 am.

Photo Fabiana Amato

 Moor Mother

She prepares her laptops gently and smiling, but when she presses the ON button, the San Andreas Fault sends a shockwave that can be felt all the way to Torino: Apocalypse Now. In the maelstrom generated by devastating industrial sounds and telluric dub rhythms, Camaye Ayewa dives headfirst, not only taking possession of the music but being totally possessed by it, just to reemerge wildly fiery and furious. Seen a month ago with Irreversible Entanglements, in her solo version she reaffirms one certainty: there’s no one like her out there.

 

Photo Fabiana Amato

Sorvina

From New York, but based in Berlin, the smiling charm of Sorvina jumps on stage as a full-band on this occasion, and her music, which blends jazz, rap, soul, and gospel, is enriched in its unique expression. Through her unmistakable voice, capable of conveying joy and vulnerability, she combines lyrical complexity and groove, always remaining faithful to the roots of authentic hip-hop.

Photo Fabiana Amato

The Heliocentrics

Among the cornerstones of British nu-jazz, they were one of our highlights on the agenda, and the concert fully met expectations. Featuring bass, cello/electronics, keyboards, drums, and sax/flute, theirs is a stunning synthesis of jazz, funk, and psychedelia, producing a hypnotic and sizzling sound, articulated by the stunning talented singer Barbora Patkova. After all, they've collaborated with true legends like Mulatu Astatke and members of the Sun Ra Arkestra for a reason. 

Photo Fabiana Amato

 DAY 3

How would you measure the love for music? The number of records you own? Too easy. The concerts you’ve seen? Nah. Or maybe, starting Day 3 of the Festival at 2 PM, while the heat bomb hits Torino like Milford Graves on his drum kit? Well, that could be a unit of measurement.

Dwarfs of East Agouza

Is it possible to blend the radical improvisation and hypnosis of krautrock with the energy of Egyptian shaabi? You have to be an absolute champion to pull it off, but with Maurice Louca, Sam Shalabi and Alan Bishop we are talking about off the scale cats. Assembling electronics, wind instruments, Arabic scales, jazz, and psychedelia, their angular trajectories obliterate any space/time dimension, and their constant balance between chaos and composition, imbued with an emancipatory free jazz spirit, is captivating above and beyond daydreaming. 

Photo Fabiana Amato

Glacial

Elusive is an understatement. In 25 years, a single album and a handful of concerts for a rendez-vous of legends, Lee Ranaldo, Tony Buck, and David Watson: those who were there will be able to tell their grandchildren about it. Buck's polyrhythms (of Necks' fame) are accompanied by Ranaldo's anti-guitar playing (Glenn Branca, Sonic Youth), where the instrument is struck, dragged on the ground, played with the bow and Watson's bagpipes (Yoshi Wada, Phil Niblock), all generating a cascade of noise, free, drones, and psychedelia. Glacial in name and in deed.

Photo Fabiana Amato

Sanam

Blossomed into the Beirut scene after a collaboration with Hans Joachim Irmler from Faust, they confirm on stage the amazing, original outcome heard on their last album “Sametou Sawtan”. Modern Arabic poetry delivered by the stellar singer Sandy Chamoun, feedback, improvisation, traditional music and jazz, are delivering a unique sonic synthesis that defies all genre boundaries. The geographical boundaries of their Homeland have already been defied and breached by tanks. 

Photo Fabiana Amato

 

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The Avant Garde Flamenco Trio – Lunar(Redshift Records, 2026)

By Nick Ostrum

Lunar came as something of a surprising to me. I found the title of the group appealing and somewhat cryptic. So, I loaded the music into my media player and clicked play.

For the first 5 minutes, I could not figure out what was happening. The music sounded Latin. The guitar had that recognizable Andalusian flair and emotive sheen. The trumpet blared with a similar snap, sometimes fading into a style reminiscent of later Dennis Gonzalez electro-acoustic productions and sometimes cutting forward in fanfare. Then, an oddly familiar voice cut through, singing in a gruff Spanish. It was in the spacious, non-melodic parts that I started to notice the slightly askew cadences and scales, that evoked the pastures of Mesopotamia as much as the Mexican grasslands. Then, it dawned on me: this is Emad Armoush.

I have written about Armoush before. He has played in Gordon Grdina’s Haram and his own Rayhan, both of which have strong Middle Eastern roots. In the Avant Garde Flamenco Trio, Armoush has distilled his six-strong Rayhan group to a core of three: JP Carter on trumpet and electronics, Kenton Loewen on drums, and Armoush himself on guitar, oud, and vocals. The result is absolutely riveting.

Lunarfollows a flamenco tradition, but, as with the Armoush’s other projects, it strays far into improvisational territory, not just varying a theme or running charts and scales but diving head-first into expansive passages – backed by some wispy electric ambience and Loewen’s soft and itinerant drums – that lack a predetermined center. The melodies and vocal patterns draw the listener in. But it is these long moments, where the musicians fumble for direction through terrain alternately spacious and pastoral and raucously discordant, that hold the album together and distinguish it from the classical and folk traditionalists that have pioneered these forms before.

The title, Lunar, is telling. Per Armoush, the album is about the Middle East, more so than its potential Spanish or Latin American terrain. It is about war, conflict, and suffering. The pastures noted above have been turned to a barren moonscape of rocket pockmarks, twisted and charred flora, absent of the life – the farms, the animals, the crops, the fellaheen, the villages – that preceded. However, the very act of commemoration, of lamentation, is, also, an act of life, that is absent any genuine lunar terrain. A true gift, even if it is riven by suffering and tragedy.

Lunar is available as a download from Bandcamp.

 

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18th Jazzdor Strasbourg-Berlin Festival (June 2026)

 

By Paul Acquaro

 

Based in Strasbourg, France, Jazzdor has been producing its flagship festival for more than 35 years, with a sister edition in Germany for over 18 and a new collaboration now taking root in Budapest. The music presented by Jazzdor has been consistently illuminating, introducing both emerging and established musicians to new audiences and fostering collaborations between European and even some American musicians. This year also marks a transition, with Vincent Bessières stepping in as artistic director following the long tenure of founder Philippe Ochem.

 

Spread over four days in early June, Bessières brought his vision for the festival to the Gretchen Club in Berlin's Kreuzberg neighborhood. Featuring two sets per evening each night featured groups linked by their style and, of course, their French connections. As opposed to other years where groups had been curated for their premier performance, Bessières was relying on working groups, something he attributed more to the time he has had so far to develop his vision than to future ambitions.

 

The new location lent a different feel to the event. Previous years were held in the cavernous Maschinenhaus in Berlin's Kulturbrauerei, located in a 19th century brewery in the city's gentrified Prenzlauer Berg neighborhood. Offering a large stage area and ample room, the space could host large ensembles, which they did with a big band playing Carla Bley's music or Steve Lehman's ambitious Ex Machina orchestra, but could also feel a bit impersonal. Gretchen Club, in the grittier Kreuzberg, has a cozier jazz club like atmosphere with it's low arched ceiling and columns. 

 

Waken

Tuesday's show kicked off with the group WAKEN, a piano trio led by France-based pianist Francesca Han with bassist Pierre Fenicheland drummer Fred Pasqua. The trio presented a vibrant, melodic set of songs, with pieces containing atmospheric and dreamy moments, along with syncopated and uptempo passages that often slowly developed into driving tunes. Elements of classical as well as pop music were interwoven with expressive soloing from all three musicians.

 

Amaury Faye NOLA Quartet

They were followed by the Amaury Faye NOLA Quartet featuring the drummer Herlin Riley. Group leader, French pianist Faye, had an extended stay in New Orleans where he spent time immersing himself in the local culture and taking long walks through the city (one time apparently wearing a panda costume), soaking in the atmosphere. One impression that he came away with was "rust," as he explained, it was on the bridges, around the buildings, and in the rail yards. Another was, obviously, the music and the set was an often uptempo take on traditional New Orleans jazz with a modern jazz sheen. With him was saxophonist Julian Lee, bassist Edouard Pennes and Lincoln Center Jazz Orchestra drummer Herlin Riley, who played with an animated showmanship. 

 

Polybahn

What could be considered the 'traditional jazz' night was followed on Wednesday by two experimental leaning groups. The first group, Polybahn , is the occasional working group of saxophonist Michael Attias , drummer Samuel Ber and pianist Benoit Delbecq , announced by Bessieres as "abstract, but poetic." Adhering to this description, the group performed a set-long improvisation that flowed effortlessly from quiet introspection to agitated formulations. Beginning with Attias gently blowing into the horn and sprinkles of notes from Delbecq, the music unraveled patiently with Ber's gentle but firm persuasion. Switching between saxophones, Attias played long melodic strands on the soprano while Delbecq punctuated his phrasings with palm plants on the keyboard. Ber, an intense drummer, concentrated on the core of his kit, a snare, bass drum, one cymbal to underscore the group's palpable pulse. 

 

Hélène Duret's Synestet

Wednesday's second set, clarinetist Hélène Duret's Synestet featuring Nils Wogram, had the French - German collaboration performing the music from their latest recording, Perception.From a trembly, squeaky start through some deep rumbling notes, the music emerged slowly but assuredly. A simple repeating pattern from guitarist Benjamin Sauzereau then set the group in full motion. Saxophonist Sylvain Debasieux began playing an oozing, layered solo that built up to a final defiant squawk from Duret on the bass clarinet. Trombonist Nils Wogram came to the stage about a quarter of the way into the set. Having recorded the last album with the group, he was already well poised to lend his expertly melodic voice to the group. Across their diverse set, the music veered from slow, hypnotic vibes to fiery uptempo pieces with cinematic scope with the superb support of bassist Fil Caporali and drummer Maxime Rouayroux. The final piece, the appropriately titled 'Adieu,' was carried by Sauzereau guitar work centering around an extended solo that synthesized Bill Frisell's Americana twang with angular jabs of surf guitar. 

Trouble

Successfully lowering the audience's median age, the third night of the festival shifted in a more electronic music direction. Even though both groups played primarily using traditional acoustic and electric instruments, they both also had woven electronics deep into their approach, in quite different ways. The first group, Trouble, offered a compelling vision of how electronics, looping and minimalism could work in a jazz context. With drummer Antonin Leymarie's drums at the center, perfectly supported by Fabrizio Rat's reductionist piano work, Clément Petit's and Maëlle Desbrosses ' captivating cello and viola playing, and Élise Caron's hypnotic voice, the group spun repetitive acoustic grooves, adorned with electronics and effects, into euphoric climatic moments. One piece, apparently a story of love between robots and a later piece, both of whose name escaped my note taking, were rather spellbinding moments of classical music that used the minimalist looping to a maximum effect. The following group, Photons with Gauthier Toux on electronics, Giani Caserottoon guitar, Samuel F’Hima on bass, and Julien Loutelieron drums, took a different approach, opting for a ‘live techno’ direction in which the electronics and formulaic beat structures became the primary focus. 

 

Garden of Silences

Friday, the final night, offered yet another perspective on the state of jazz — an ethno‑folk jazz strain, if we look for a term that steers clear of the loaded ‘world‑music’ label. Both Garden of Silences and Mosaic were truly multi-cultural blends that sought - and found - new ways to blend strong traditions into something captivating and new. Garden of Silences is formed around violinist Clément Janinet and trumpeter Arve Henriksen along with accordionist Ambre Villermoz and bassist Robert Lucaciu. Mixing classical repertoire with free improvisation and Swedish folk, the group plays a music that is not jazz nor classical nor folk, but with all of these elements, utterly captivating. Beginning with a swirl of accordion and the trumpet playing a slow melody, a gentle, provocative classical countermelody emerged from the violin and bass. The next piece featured a dramatic introduction from Henriksen over a churning undercurrent from Janiet. Throughout, the trumpeter employed electronic elements and vocals and the groups final tune was a turn toward a more modern melodic approach. They have an self-titled album out on BMC records. 

Mosaic © Ulla C Binder

Mosaic, comprised of musicians from Bulgaria, France, Portugal and Tunisia, met at a music event in Malta and have developed a unique Mediterranean-jazz. Big rhythms, dynamic interactions and even some renaissance music flair brought out by Georgi Dobrev's kaval, a Balkan flute. Slowly building pieces gave way to epic storms with swirling counter melodies and mounting polyrhythms. Interactions between Dobrev, cellist Adèle Viret, accordionist Noé Clerc , bassist Zé Almeida, drummer Diogo Alexandre and percussionist Hamdi Jammoussi kept the audience enthralled up until and after Jammoussi's climatic solo credenza encore on his blue back-lit hand drum. 

 

Even in a somewhat more compact format, the festival successfully again spotlighted a fertile and varied European scene, with an eye towards the future of jazz. With its growing network of events in Strasbourg, Berlin, and Budapest, Jazzdor is clearly still evolving. Bessières speaks of new partnerships and new directions; if this year is any indication, there’s real potential in that aspiration.

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Achim Kaufmann, Yorgos Dimitriadis, Michael Thieke – Hiss and Whirr (Wide Ear Records, 2025)

By Dan Sorrells 

In this moment of hollow AI mimicry, the hiss and whirr of three musicians locked in improvisation starkly highlights the very creative capacity that our inhuman technology tries and fails to co-opt. Like cogs that can be retooled and reconfigured on the fly, Achim Kaufmann, Yorgos Dimitriadis, and Michael Thieke create something genuinely novel and in constant renewal, even as it may remind us—perhaps uncannily—of the regularity and precision of machines.

Dimitriadis has previously worked in the duo format with both Kaufmann and Thieke. To the extent putting the three together calls machinery to mind, it's of the churning, industrial sort. Throughout Hiss and Whirr, the interlocking of Kaufmann's prepared piano, Dimitriadis's percussion, and Thieke's frequently beguiling clarinet takes on a cryptic quality, like hearing unseen work from behind closed doors. What reach us on the other side are the sonorous workings of machines or systems whose purpose is hopelessly obscured. Much of this derives from the fascinating way the trio arrests and warps time. There's a constancy that feels more like cyclical layering than linear exposition, even as the music ceaselessly changes. This lends a hypnotic feel to pieces like the opening title track with its thumping toms and gently clanging piano. It can also yield drama: "an epoch of rain" is a ratchet with almost no forward movement—just increasing tension, winding tighter and tighter. But these rhythms and tempos aren't rigid. Their contours flex and are redrawn as patterns accumulate and dissipate. Eventually, the sounds darken, becoming damp and subterranean. "or hunger that gets lost" works itself into an eerie space, notes dripping like the intricate, unsteady polyrhythms in a cavernous cistern.

The trio further obscure their human hands through the nuanced deployment of electronics, which both Kaufmann and Dimitriadis use as atmospheric augments and occasionally to cast doubt on true causes. Thieke, for his part, uses his formidable technique to conjure the same effects. There's an electric charge gathering in his feedback tones from "the minute it isn't held," and the subtle tongue slaps that end "of fragments flowering" sound like a clipping audio track.

The sounds on Hiss and Whirr often seem influenced by the technological thrum of our modern lives and the ways in which individuals are subsumed in the complexity that emerges as intersecting processes are set into motion. But just try to imagine this music being spat from a soulless algorithm. It could never be derived from a series of probabilistic calculations, because its improbability is its greatest asset. Free improvisation is the antithesis of derivative slop.

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Ivo Perelman and Damon Smith - Duologue 6: Core of Existence (Squid Note, 2026)

By Sammy Stein

Ivo Perelman continues his duologue series with a conversation with bassist Damon Smith, and this is a duologue well worth listening in on. Bass and saxophone seem naturally attuned to interact: two instruments built on vibration, the sax of a reed and the bass of a string. In both instruments, the air moved by vibration is passed through a resonant body to create texture, warmth, and depth. Their kinship is physical, but their voices are utterly distinct, and that tension is where the chemistry happens.

Across the album, the musicians explore the full expressive range of their instruments. They trade thunks, whispers, vibrato, sudden bursts of intensity, and passages of exquisite stillness. What emerges is a sense of deeply engaged conversation.

The tracks on Duologue: Core of Existence are numbered 1-12, and across the album, the range and versatility of both musicians is demonstrated. From the sax-led inspiration on track 1, the extemporised playing of Perelman on track 2, supported by the depths of resounding notes from the bass, to the dance-like trilling of the sax on track 3, supported by the bass, this time using higher notes and vibrato to add a different texture to the music.

On track 4, there is a shift in emphasis, and the bass supports Perelman playing in a range of styles, at one time creating a fuzzy background texture and another a plucked, plinky, rhythmic style. On track 5, the bass is fast, furious, and then suddenly delicate under Perelman's intensity, the beauty of the track developing as each musician listens not only to each other but also uses silences to add punctuation.

Across the album, tenor sax and bass are used as instruments of engagement, negotiation, and to exchange ideas, sometimes one suggesting, sometimes the other. While this is free playing, without supposed form, there are different patterns, rhythms, and styles, from the intense to the gentle and sublime. Even when Perelman is following a delirious line or sliding in a snippet from a traditional jazz tune, the bass is ever changing, reacting, and engaging with the ideas. On track 8, the final phrases see the bass loose stringed and plucked, creating a shimmering effect under the tenor line.

Track 9 sees a shift in emphasis, as this is bass-led and glorious, with Perelman affording the Smith ample room and scope while supplying notions, ideas, and quicksilver rivulets of sound for the bass to react to. Even when Perelman is at his most unrestrained, Smith’s bass is in motion, reacting with invention and agility, introducing ideas of his own making. The fabulous contrast in the middle section between the high-pitched screams of the tenor and the deepest, darkest throat of the bass is extraordinary.

As in all the Duologue series, Perelman seems to relish conversing with other musicians and instruments in a musical encounter where he can pitch the tenor sax against different bodies, materials, and modes of vibration, yet the underlying principle remains. Sound is a shared exploration. Perelman and each of the musicians he has played with in the series tap into creating vibrations: notes, music, in different ways, but as ever, there is a commonality in conversations. Perelman, in this series, is the alchemist who makes it happen, drawing out the unique resonances of each collaborator. With Smith, the chemistry is profound, two musicians creating vibrations in different ways but providing meaning and conversation in equal measure. It is here where magic happens. 

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Ivo Perelman, Matthew Shipp, Bobby Kapp, and William Parker - Synesthesia (Defkaz, 2026)

By Sammy Stein

Ivo Perelman is a musician, artist, and jeweller who works with many musicians of different styles. He sees the world slightly differently from some of us, in that he sees sound in colour. So the title of the recording, Synesthesia, is apt. In his contribution to my book Music Is Your Superpower, Perelman describes music not as a choice, but as an essential for existence. He says of music, and jazz in particular, “What truly connected me to jazz was the emotional intensity within its structure, especially in the music of Shorter. It felt almost impossible to perform music that was so intricately constructed while simultaneously conveying such depth of feeling.”

He also talks about his synesthesia – the phenomenon of seeing sound as colours. When Perelman plays music, it feels as if he is creating a work of art, and when he is painting, he can relate it to creating a saxophone solo. Art, colour, and music are interlinked. His intense need to create may explain his productivity in music. His way of playing and interpreting musical dialogue draws to him musicians who understand his musical visions.

On Synesthesia, Perelman has teamed again with close associates Matthew Shipp (piano), William Parker (bass), and Bobby Kapp (drums) in a new recording that captures their deep connection and still evolving voices in contemporary free jazz. With the pathways forged with ‘Ineffable Joy’ and ‘Heptagon’, the group continues to establish new routes in spontaneous composition, open form, and strong collective interplay.

The difference on ‘Synesthesia’ is that the music is more crystallised, and has a deeper sense of flow and connection. That connection is revealed in the rapid reactions of the musicians as they listen and respond to each other, offering individual takes that go to create a whole. Perelman explores his tenor sax, moving across its range with soft, melodic interludes, intense, electric solos, and contrasting altissimo. Shipp demonstrates his innate art of support as his circling, looping chordal progressions offer up subtle melodic ideas that pilot the ensemble in places. The bass of Parker is constant, with deep, sonorous melodies, with space left for musical dialogue. Kapp adds colour and motion, while filling in the detail of the sonic landscape with percussive touches and occasional solos.

Across the album, there is that contrast of intense energy, such as on ‘First Color Heard,’ and quiet, reflective passages, such as those on ‘Afterglow.’ The contrasts coexist, interlinked and cohesive to create the harmonic dialogue that only comes with experience and understanding other musicians.

On ‘Phosphene,’ Perelman travels familiar pathways, yet introduces new elements into each, creating a sense of the unexpected. Shipp’s piano excels on this track with its quiet support and triumphantly emergent solo work. The beautiful moment when Perelman enters across the piano solo with astonishingly accurate pitch contrast is just beautiful. There is even a snippet from a song from Perelman before he reverts to free playing. Into the quiet moments, Parker’s bass sighs and works its magic – an excellent track.

On ‘Blue Taste,’ the influence of jazz masters past and present can be felt as the ensemble delivers free-style jazz commentary across a blues-infused rhythm pattern. Perelman's pipping, and squealing contrast with the steadfast whirr of the accompaniment, while ‘Afterglow’ is a much gentler affair altogether. ‘One Sense’ has an atmosphere of a ‘50s jazz venue for some inexplicable reason, possibly because of the interaction between traditional rhythms and free playing – glorious.

Like in a lot of Perelman’s work, the blues and bop elements make themselves known, interwoven amidst abstract sonic textures that create a flowing, organic development. Synesthesia is a recording that has the quality you might expect from an experienced ensemble, who know each other’s ways so well, yet it still has elements of surprise and supreme intuitive styling that give it its energy and expression.

On Synesthesia, there is no discernible fixed structure, yet the harmonics and classically linked progressions tell of a musical ensemble deeply knowledgeable in musical scaffolding and pinning on that scaffold experimental lines that always work back to the root. The title says it all, a kaleidoscope of jewelled, colourful music, with deep, dark textures and light, contrasting hues. There are shapes woven here, along with colorful landscapes, through which the ensemble meanders, careens, and gently rests on occasion. This is an album that will have broad appeal.

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Gabriel Vicéns – Niebla (Clepsydra Records, 2026)

By Nick Ostrum

Gabriel Vicéns first came to my attention with 2024’s Mural, which itself was a big step in the young guitarist and composer’s musical evolution. That album marked a turn from the Latin-tinged modern jazz of his previous work toward modernist and postmodernist classical traditions. Niebla finds Vicéns with a sextet with whom he has years of history, but, as far as I can tell, has never stretched so far into this blended, abstract musical territory, at least together. The crew includes saxophonist Roman Filiú, pianist Vitor Gonçalves, bassist Rick Rosato, and the double percussion section of E.J Strickland and Victor Pablo, in addition to Vicéns himself on guitar.

On Niebla (fog), Vicéns and crew simultaneously take a step further out and a step back to Caribbean traditions. For some a split like this would tear at the ligaments of conviction. Here, the group shows rare agility in pulling it off. The album has a lot going for it. Influences range from contemporary jazz to especially Feldman and Cage-inspired classical to Puerto Rican and Cuban rhythmacism. Now, new music and driving rhythm may seem anathema to each other. Throw in some jumpy bop lines (I cannot shake the feeling that some of these phrases are slightly laggard takes on Salt Peanuts, or something like it), Filiú’s and Vicéns entangling lines (I hear nods to Metheny in the latter), Gonçalves’ seasoned restraint, and a wildly pulsing rhythm section and one might think the resulting stew could never settle properly. But it does.

The jauntier fusion numbers here – Niebla, Stray Dogs – lay into that kaleidoscopic description above. The more patient pieces – 900-50-80, Guaiza – strike an unexpectedly convincing balance between repetition, abstraction, and gradualism. The odd time signatures and especially the polyrhythmic drumming add to this, hinting at phasing and free jazz arrhythmia. So too do the moments when the band spans the gap between old and new, or indigenous and hypermodernist practices, as in the scratchy güiro solo about nine minutes into the vertiginous Ramaje. This one runs from some Escherian hive of staircases to noirish jazz (with a solo by Strickland worthy of Andrew Cyrille) to straight-up New York minimalism to the barest of güiro scrapes and rasps framed by silence, or, as the listener’s ears remain perked, an aural fog of what preceded and anticipation of what might come next. In that, Niebla is liminal, resting on the boundary between traditions and, in its various twists and turns, eschewing complacency in any given moment or direction.

Nieblais available as a CD and download here.

 

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