This exceptional duet between Marco Colonna on bass clarinet and Enzo Rocco on guitar was recorded in November 2025 as part of the “Alterazioni” festival in Lainate, Italy, at a wonderful venue that can only add to the quality of the performance.
The interaction between the two musicians is truly great. Their dialogue—spanning just over half an hour on the opening track—unfolds as an intimate conversation, often moving in a slow parlando, at times lyrical and at others abrasive. Each artist continuously introduces new ideas that are immediately absorbed and reshaped by the other, creating a seamless and endlessly fascinating exchange. There is deep respect and deep listening.
Despite their formidable technical abilities, virtuosity is never the point; the focus remains firmly on the music itself and the act of co-creation, which ultimately carries far more weight than any display of instrumental prowess. Rocco can unleash crystal clear, rapid-fire runs along the guitar neck, just as Colonna summons multiphonics and timbres so unexpected that one might question whether they truly originate from a bass clarinet (or momentarily from a flute or a fog horn?).
For instrumentalists, there is an abundance to learn here. For everyone else, the reward lies in experiencing the music’s freedom, authenticity, and quiet preciousness. The result is rich and precise, meticulously shaped, and as delicate and intricate as lace, with a musical eclecticism that integrates jazz, blues, classical and folk music and leading us much further into ground-breaking sonic places, yet without ever alienating the listener.
The sound quality is without any resonance, as if you are sitting next to them, which even more reinforces that feeling of intimacy and proximity.
2025 was the year of Sophie Agnel. Whilst recovering from a brain tumour –
which also meant starting again with the piano – Agnel managed to release
two first-class solo albums (SONG (Relative Pitch) and Learning (OTORUKO))
as well as a brilliant duo with John Butcher (Rare (Les Disques
VICTO)), all three of which featured on the Free Jazz Collective’s choices
for their
albums of 2025
. Just five days after Learning was released in early October, she
put out this recording with drummer Mark Sanders: ANTLIA. If I’d heard it
sooner, this album would certainly have made it into my top 10.
Antlia is the name of a small and relatively modern constellation that
represents an air pump (Antlia is the Greek word for ‘pump’). Its three
visible stars are a yellow dwarf, a yellow-white dwarf, and an orange dwarf
named Macondo, which are used as the track titles. The choice of a modern
constellation for the album title made me consider the act of ‘establishing’
a constellation: by coordinating disparate objects in space, it could be
seen as a symbol for what occurs in the act of improvisation. Similarly, the
symbol of the air pump, chosen by the French astronomer Nicolas-Louis de
Lacaille to represent the Enlightenment, might indicate a parallel between
invention and improvisation, such that what is inanimate is brought to life.
I can’t help but wonder whether this dark, mysterious music calls into
question the rationalism of the Enlightenment in favour of a more ‘magical’
way of thinking (and so perhaps it is also worth noting that ‘Macondo’ is
the name of the mythical town in Gabriel García Márquez’s magical realist
novel One Hundred Years of Solitude).
The album is brilliantly self-assured; at no point is there any sense of
timidity or hesitation. This is particularly impressive considering how the
music is constantly in motion, never quite settling in one place. But whilst
the music is shifting, there is no denying its cohesion as a whole,
characterised both by fragility (which makes the cover image of a dandelion
a fitting choice) and a sense of the enigmatic. There are points when Agnel
hints towards something more forceful, only for Sanders to refuse her
invitation and keep the improvisation in a liminal space (such as towards
the end of track three, ‘Orange’). At other times their twisting and turning
creates moments of resistance that nonetheless feel completely intuitive
(especially on the first track, ‘Antlia’). This dynamic of invitation and
refusal generates a momentum not characterised by forward movement as such,
but something more like sideways movement – always seeking new directions
rather than simply ploughing onwards. It’s immensely satisfying to listen to
this interaction take place.
Agnel and Sanders are perfectly matched, particularly because of Agnel’s
percussive approach to the piano, bringing all the kinds of sounds you would
expect from somebody so influenced by Cage’s prepared piano music. But
they’re not afraid to let the silence speak either: at the start of
‘Yellow’, the sounds are suspended in empty space, bell-like in quality. At
other points, such as on ‘Yellow-White’, there is a hint of something more
metred and continuous. Fittingly, these improvisations all seem to be about
letting things happen ‘in space’, drawing them out of the ‘cosmic hum’ of
the universe. Throughout the album, the connection between Agnel and Sanders
is unbreakable, and this only enhances the feeling that they are
establishing their own musical constellation.
It is clear throughout that Agnel and Sanders are kindred musical spirits,
and what they create together is the best kind of improvised music:
creative, confident and immensely compelling. I have been playing this album
for weeks now, and continue to be intrigued by what Agnel and Sanders offer
here. I hope we hear much more of this duo in the near future.
ANTLIA is available from Shrike Records on their Bandcamp page:
Waiting to see what kind of sonic wind will fill our sails to navigate in
the forthcoming 2026’s waters, what’s better than a quick warm up trip
towards an old, safe harbor? Coming out: being pretty obsessed with
underrated artists, whatever their field, having in our hands, not one but
two (!) live recordings of Rahsaan Roland Kirk, the epitome of such
beautiful losers, represents a chance hugely immoral to be missed. We all
know that this “much loved maverick,” as defined by the Penguin Guide to
Jazz, was an astonishing multi-instrumentalist, totally at ease with the
whole reeds family, clarinets, harmonica, English horn, trumpet, m’bira and
flute, this last played while singing (the “humming” technique, main
influence for Ian Anderson of Jethro Tull fame) or with the nose. His deep
and ongoing passion for sounds, drove Kirk to play ancient instruments such
as the manzello (a soprano with a mellophone bell) and the stritch, a
contralto without bell, or to invent brand new sonic devices like the rokon
(a sort of whistle), the black mystery pipes (rubber hoses) or the evil box,
an electro noise maker.
Kirk often embraced three saxes together, not to show
a bizarre posture but for the sake of a strict, handy necessity due to his
blindness since the age of two. This legendary picture, part of the timeless
jazz imaginary, has been often used by kritiks (the “k” is not a typo) and
musicians to downgrade Kirk as a freakshow, criminally overlooking the
amazing sound explorer he was, the timbric balance and the smart eclecticism
that allows him to deal with dixie, blues, gospel, soul and funky in a
visionary, infectious, furious, passionate but always respectful way.
Championed by Charles Mingus until the very last days, revered by Eric
Clapton and Frank Zappa, Kirk was for Jimi Hendrix a “stone cold blues
musician”, while the black community will never forget when, along with
other members of the Jazz and People’s Movement founded in 1970 (Billy
Harper, Andrew Cyrille and Lee Morgan), he entered the CBS Studios, showing
banners like “More black artists on TV” or “Honor American Jazz Music”,
forcing the stop of the Merv Griffin Show that was on air. Fuckin’ ultimate
punk gesture, man!
As a late stop, Santa's sledge, with the license plate
Resonance Records, left at our front door two magnificent live gifts by Mr.
Kirk. Moving chronologically, the first one, Vibrations in the Village,
Live at the Village Gate, was recorded at the New York’s Village Gate on
November 26-27, 1963 with pianist Horace Parlan, Melvin Rhyne and Jane Getz,
along with bassist Henry Grimes and drummer Sonny Brown. The music,
originally recorded for a documentary film, was in storage for the next 62
years until now, when finally restored and mastered from the original tapes
by Matthew Lutthans at The Mastering Lab and 9 tracks for an hour of
ecstatic pleasure taking no prisoners, driving the listener on a brakeless
rollercoaster of blues, ballads, edgy swinging originals and fearless
improvisations. Icing on the cake, an extensive booklet with rare photos and
liner notes from Jan Persson, Tom Copi, Raymond Ross, John Kruth and May
Cobb, plus interviews and testimonials from Jane Getz, James Carter, Chico
Freeman, Steve Turre, Adam Dorn (son of long-time Kirk’s producer Joel Dorn)
and others.
With the second, Seek & Listen, Live at the Penthouse, we
set the time machine to September 8 and 15, 1967, when Our Man played at the
Penthouse jazz club in Seattle accompanied by Rahn Burton on piano, Steve
Novosel on bass and Jimmy Hopps on drums. The music, never before released,
was originally recorded by radio DJ Jim Wilke for King-FM Radio, then ended
up lost somewhere, before being unearthed, restored and mastered, as for the
previous record, by Matthew Lutthans. Covers and medleys by Duke Ellington
(I’ve got it bad; Sophisticated Lady; Prelude to a kiss; Satin Doll), Burt
Bacharach (Alfie), Cole Porter (Every time we say goodbye), Milton Ager
(Happy Days are here again) and Bobby Gentry (Ode to Billie Joe) are
interspersed with originals, for a joyful, relaxed, even tender journey. Two
different live records, two sides of the same coin, the one of a real
Maestro: don't miss it. Post Scriptum. A legendary West London post-punk
combo formed in 1980, Rip Rig & Panic, took their name after the most
famous Kirk’s album, and the sublime Neneh Cherry had the chance to
collaborate with them before the band disbanded in 1983. Yes, exactly, dear
reader: tout se tient.
The Western Pacific archipelago of Tuvalu—deeply exposed to rising seas and the broader pressures of climate change—has become a symbol of cultural and ecological precarity. This reality inspired bassist Pascal Niggenkemper to create the ensemble Tuvalu, a project that reflects on the human relationship with nature using a melange of musical interludes, sound inventions and spoken texts and poems, which are voiced in the native languages of its performers: French, Flemish, Greek, English, Farsi, German, and Occitan.
The performance captured here in November 2024 at Tollhaus Karlsruhe in Karlsruhe, Germany, unfolds inside a ring of sixteen resonant curtains that enclose the audience, eight musicians, and a poet. At the center, nine “sounding islands” evoke the geography of Tuvalu, while the octet—structured as two near‑twin quartets or four interwoven duos—generates a landscape of hissing, shimmering, humming, and eruptive sound. From this shifting aural and conceptual terrain, colors, patterns, melodies, and improvisations emerge like weather forming over an archipelago.
A recording of the project, containing both a studio recording CD and video of the performance here on DVD can be ordered at subran music on Bandcamp.
“ Of course!
This is the edge of the world! This is the resistance!”
-Fred Frith, from the liner notes
With a lovely, poetic title and euphoric liner notes from guitarist Fred
Frith, this album was irresistible. The phrase “fishes that have their own
light” fills me with excitement thinking about the mysterious bioluminescent
creatures of the deep sea.But it’s the word “discovering” that
matters most to me. Improvised music for me is all about discovery,
discovering new sounds, new sonic worlds, new ways of communicating. I
wanted this music to not just be great, but to match the mood the title
stirred in me. Does it succeed? Very much so.
I discovered Katharina Weber through her beautiful piano solo album
In Márta’s Garden, based on compositions of György Kurtág. She weaves improvisations with the
classical compositions of Kurtág to build something wonderfully new. She
frequently lets individual notes linger and their decay becomes as important
as the note itself.
Paula Sanchez is an improvising cellist, using various extended techniques
including electronics and a prepared cello. Her solo album
Sólo Un Pasaje
demonstrates the many aspects of her playing. One can hear her classical
training, but then the music will veer sharply into something
unrecognizable, almost jolting. Beautiful cello notes mix with harsh scrapes
and screeches. In her liner notes to Sólo Un Pasaje, she wrote
something that applies nicely to both Sólo Un Pasaje and the
present album: “I would like to think of sound as a passage, an endless
transition. A subterranean murmur of opposite materials fragilely linked to
each other, like the places I inhabit.” Beauty and harshness, fragilely
linked together, make for a new sonic world to explore.
The album begins with rolling low notes from Weber’s piano matched by
Sanchez’s cello which at first feels like it’s exploring this deep ocean
universe that Weber is creating. As the music progresses, the cello sounds
less and less like classical cello and more its own unique voice. Are we
hearing those remarkable creatures of the title? At about the two-minute
mark, there is a sharp uptick of intensity and even as the music becomes
more and more intense, it is clear that these two musicians are
communicating on a profound level, and that remains the case for the
entirety of this wonderful album. There are quiet, peaceful places here as
well. We hear Weber’s prepared piano at one point and Sanchez vocalizing at
another. Every note, every sound is there for a reason, is there with a
desire to say something new, something beautiful and maybe a bit eerie, much
like the ocean depths of the title. This is improvised music at its very
finest. This was one of the very best albums of 2025.
Just as this review began, I’ll end it with the words of the great Fred
Frith from the liner notes:
“A play of surfaces, of formal proposals countermanded by a deep impulse
to question, to challenge, to undermine. Every echo, every pulsating
breath, every breaking away into distant reveries, all of its exquisite
tension capturing the ear and the heart and holding them fast.”
Polish pianist Joanna Duda has a lithe, modern approach to the piano. Clear and repetitive figures interlock in hypnotic patterns, and although often precise and stark, her music can also be dramatic and laden with emotion. It is an alluring combination and one that can crack the scar tissue of the hardened experimental listener with incisive melodies and quick atonal jabs.
On Delighted, which is Duda's second release with her trio, bassist Jort Terwijn and drummer Michał Bryndal provide support with both their respective instruments as well as contribute to the electronics that Dude laces throughout her compositions. To describe the result, the cliché "tapestry" fits quite well: the music weaves melodic patterns, electronic adornments and solid threads of rhythm seamlessly together.
Delighted begins with the track 'We're New to This Planet', a simple chord sequence from Duda starts things off, while Terwijn provides a forward moving melody on the bass. Light drumming fills in the backing layer and it indeed feels like the first day of a fresh start on a new planet. Then, the wake up call comes: a slight hesitation followed by rhythmic syncopation from everyone. It's jolting and introduces the expansion of atonal melodic snippets and poly-rhythmic passages, leading to a modicum of free-improvisation before settling into a soothing ending.
Later tracks expand on all the elements found in the first track. In the following 'Those Who Think They're French but are Actually Russians,' a lilting melody with classical tendencies juxtaposes with uptempo arrhythmic swing. 'When the Truffles Get Dry' starts with an aggressively propulsive riff that leads deep into vintage Bad Plus musical territory and features some ping-ponging rhythmic moments. Among the other tracks left to discover, 'Romantische Sache' demonstrates the most robust application of electronics on the recording. Following its open-hearted intro, the middle half of the song spirals into bits and bytes before eventually reconstituting itself.
While Delighted leans towards the more melodic and composed, subversive elements draws it gently in an experimental direction. Certainly worth an open-eared listen.
Here are a few more noteworthy albums by Mazurek and his collaborators. Back in 2011, I described him as a kind of musical genius, and it’s clear that he has continued to grow into that promise. His music is unmistakably his own, yet deeply informed by a wide range of styles and genres. It forms an eclectic constellation of sonic ideas—carefully arranged, post-produced, dubbed, and electronically enhanced—that nonetheless retains a coherent, authentic, almost pure and honest voice. Without yielding to trends or fashions, Mazurek persistently searches for new modes of expression, creating music that is often unexpectedly beautiful and, at times, ventures beyond beauty into more challenging sonic territories that demand especially open ears. But that, after all, is the privilege of true artists: to open new doors and invite listeners into unfamiliar and rewarding listening experiences. And all credit to him for reinventing himself in the process.
He is also a visual artist and three of the covers below are by his hand.
Chicago Underground Duo - Hyperglyph (International Anthem, 2025)
The Chicago Underground is an ensemble that has been a trio, quartet and quintet format, yet the duo format of Mazurek and Chad Taylor is the core of their musical concept, a collaboration that harks back to 1988, when Taylor was only fifteen. Chad Taylor plays drums, percussion, mbira and kalimba, while Mazurek plays trumpet, piccolo trumpet, RMI electric piano, modular synths, samplers, voice, flutes and bells. And as you can imagine these instruments lead to many layers of sound in the editing room, making them sound like a full band.
The music is ultra-processed, with compositions that vary between fun and joyful to mournful and melancholy, integrating many, many influences from jazz, rock, world music and noise. The pièce-de-résistance is the three part "Egyptian Suite". Rhythmic inventiveness and great themes are usually the core of each track, with the electronics and synths and overdubs adding to the density of the sound while keeping things still light and shining. It's hard to describe. It's accessible and not, it's magical and recognisable, it's mysterious and familiar.
I can also refer to the very lengthy liner notes on the Bandcamp page which give a really good description of the album. Yet I just recommend you listen to the music.
Exploding Star Orchestra - Holy Mountains (Selo Sesc, 2025)
Of all the large free jazz bands that we like (Fire! Orchestra, Angles, Pål Nilssen-Love's Large Unit, Barry Guy's Blue Shroud Band, ...), the Exploding Star Orchestra is one of my favourites. The wonderful themes and the organised chaos of the arrangements, and the brilliant combination of deeply rooted infectious rhythms combined with the mysteries of advanced astronomy and space exploration.
The orchestra are
Rob Mazurek on trumpet, horn, percussion, musical direction
Chad Taylor on drums
Damon Locks on voice, electronics
Guilherme Granado on sampler, keyboards, percussion
James Brandon Lewis on tenor saxophone
Luke Stewart on double bass
Mikel Patrick Avery on electronic drums
Pasquale Mirra on vibraphone
Philip Somervell on piano
Rodrigo Brandão on voice
Thomas Rohrer on rabeca and soprano saxophone
The performance was recorded in October 2022 at Sesc Pompeia, in São Paulo, Brasil and the addition of the Brazilian musician is great, including the poetry recitation in Portuguese by Rodrigo Brandão, even if I don't understand a word of it, except for 'Orquestra da Estrella Vermilha' or Red Star Orchestra. Damon Locks is also present, reciting the space poetry of Mazurek.
The album includes a tune we know: "Parable 3000 (We All Come From Somewhere Else)" from "Dimensional Stardust" and "Live At The Adler Planetarium". Next to the 'parables', there's a sequence of three 'Spirit Flares', of which Part 2 is absolutely astonishing. with James Brandon Lewis in a lead role, as he also does on other pieces.
Mazurek comments: "I play the role of conductor, director, composer, all these things. The group is a vehicle for imagination. I implicitly trust musicians in everything. I say 'do some of the things I do, but not all of them. You can make your own decisions, of course.' They are all masters of improvisation and creative musicians, so I don't need to say much. You also bring your culture to music. As much freedom as possible".
And that's how it sounds: the identifiable musical voice of the composer in a brilliant mix of cultural influences, other voices, new artistic ideas and collective improvisation, leading to weird and mysterious moments, alternated by a trance-inducing rhythmic roller-coaster.
Rob Mazurek Quartet - Color Systems (RogueArt, 2024)
The Rob Mazurek Quartet are Rob Mazurek on trumpet, piccolo trumpet, bells, electronics, Angelica Sanchez on piano, Tomeka Reid on cello, and Chad Taylor on drums: a super-band, all musicians with whom Mazurek has a long collaboration, including with the Exploding Star Orchestra.
For Mazurek, 'synesthesia', or the neurological interference of sonic and visual perceptions is an important artistic experience and tool. In "Color Systems", he not only brings tribute to a number of visual artists - Louise Nevelson, Frank Bowling, Lygia Pape, Richard Tuttle, Nuno Ramos, Ellsworth Kelly - but he uses their art to inspire or even to translate the visual impressions into sound. For the first four tracks, Mazurek offered four of his own watercolour and ink pages to each musician as inspiration for the otherwise fully improvised pieces. The quality of the band is such that they bring it to an excellent result, with especially Mazurek himself and Chad Taylor in excellent shape. For once, Mazurek's trumpet plays a key role in the music, much more than in his large ensemble or electronic endeavours. The role of the piano and the cello are more subtle, and absolutely essential for the colouring that is taking place.
The final two tracks are fully composed, giving Sanchez and Reid more formal roles. As with much of Mazurek’s work, the pieces unfold as patchworks of contrasting fragments and musical ideas, carefully juxtaposed and woven together. Distinct concepts and tonal colours flow seamlessly into one another in an organic, almost intuitive way—much like the shifting hues in a visual artist’s installation. It’s difficult to capture in words without hearing the music itself, but I trust you’ll sense what I mean.
The album is further accompanied by a book with paintings and poems by Mazurek, called "Flitting Splits Reverb Adage", a title we know from a composition with Damon Lock. I do not have a copy of the book, but John Corbett describes it as follows: "Conjuring a cosmic sonosphere, the sound-crust on the canvas of our shared existence, Mazurek evokes more in a few lines than many writers do in volumes".
Alberto Novello & Rob Mazurek - Sun Eaters (Hive Mind, 2025)
Alberto Novello is an Italian digital audiovisual artist who also works under the alias Jestern. His bio notes that he "graduated in Nuclear Physics at the University of Trieste, completed the master Art Science Technologies with Jean Claude Risset, obtained a PhD degree at the Technische Universiteit Eindhoven with Armin Kohlrausch, and graduated in Electronic Music at the Institute of Sonology, Royal Conservatory of Den Haag. He worked for Texas Instruments, Philips Research, and Auro Technologies creating software for their audio applications." So not really the kind of profile you would expect on this blog. On this album he plays modular synth, while Rob Mazurek plays trumpets, sampler and bells.
I'm in two minds about the music itself. At times it's fresh, inventive, interesting or even fascinating, at other times it's both annoying and irritating, but that may be due to my aversion of electronics, which is often reducing sounds to mere bips, bleeps, chirps, pings, beeps, pips, dings or boops. It's an acquired taste and one that Mazurek himself uses increasingly, and that's of course part of artistic risk-taking: you have to go outside the beaten track. Think of Don Cherry's "Human Music" album with Jon Appleton. Some people love it, and appreciate its forward-looking and boundary-breaking nature. I'm still not one of them. But I don't want to be too negative. This album really has its great moments. Especially the strange and intense "Ricochet Edge Verse" uses electronics at their best, full of variation, power, surprises in close interplay with the trumpet, the dark "Luchadores Sudden Embrace", or the slow "Automaton Phase 27", a quietly developing piece with mysterious sounds providing the backdrop of Mazurek's brilliant trumpet playing.
Star Splitter is the duo of Gabriele Mitelli on cornet, trumpet, voice and electronics, and Rob Mazurek on piccolo trumpet, trumpet, voice and electronics. They present two long pieces, each around 19 minutes, both of them compelling sonic journeys. Electronics, percussive textures, and soaring—often electronically altered—trumpets intertwine, punctuated by occasional shouts. The music is mysterious, bizarre, and excellent. Not until about five minutes into the first track does the trumpet make its initial appearance, underscoring the duo’s focus on overall sound rather than on the instruments themselves. Moments of striking beauty alternate with sounds that are completely “out there.”
The "Medea" in the title possibly refers to the ancient Greek mythology. Medea was a sorceress, with magic powers. She killed her brother and married Jason, then after ten years Jason kicked her out, and out of spite, she killed their sons and Jason's new bride. Enough story to reflect on. The tension and the sense of love and tragedy and horror and magic - it's all here.
The folk music that so inspired Béla Bartók as he traveled Transylvania with
his phonograph one hundred years ago continues to bloom, renewing in cycles,
the flowers and forms of one season becoming the fertile humus that grows
the next generation. In 2020, the trio of pianist Lucian Ban, violist Mat
Maneri, and woodwind maestro John Surman debuted their chamber-folk
improvisations on Transylvanian Folk Songs,a project rooted deeply
in Bartók's own and an outgrowth of Ban and Maneri's earlier duo work. After
some pandemic delays, the trio toured on the material between 2022 and 2024.
From those concerts, two new releases on Sunnyside:
Cantica Profana,
a compilation of tracks from several European shows, and
The Athenaeum Concert,
a full set from the prestigious Romanian Athenaeum in Bucharest (which would
also turn out to be Surman's last major performance before his retirement).
Transylvanian Folk Songs originally featured nine tracks inspired
by transcriptions and wax cylinder recordings Bartók made of traditional
peasant tunes from the Carpathians. This is music that also imbued Ban's
childhood in Cluj. Like the nine sons in Bartók's "Cantata Profana," these
songs underwent a profound metamorphosis at the hands of the trio, budding
melodies and motifs charged with an improvised magic that transformed them
into something wilder and less familiar. Cantica Profana and
The Athenaeum Concert
further push this evolution, with the opportunity to hear multiple versions
of songs showing how the trio continually reshapes and renews its source
material.
The more upbeat pieces—"Violin Song," "Dowry Song," "Transylvanian
Dance"—are driven by rhythmic motives, often delivered by Ban but liable to
be traded around to any member as the moment demands. This rhythm helps
structure the improvisations and allows the trio to range farther from the
folk aspects of the primary melodies. These are the tracks, such as the long
Athenaeum take of "Dowry Song," that can verge closest to jazz—only in brief
flashes—flirting momentarily with a bluesy chord progression or syncopated
figure, able to snap back at the call of the motif. But while these
musicians with deep jazz credentials are creating music that isn't overtly
jazzy, they bring some of its newer tools to bear on an older realm of music
that was rooted in improvisation. "Carol" from
Transylvanian Folk Songs
develops a beautiful, rippling quality like light on water; it resurfaces in
a knottier form on Cantica Profana as "Dark Woods," night music
possessing the character of its new name. Ban's elegiac but resolute piano
from "Bitter Love Song" becomes muted and percussive in its reimagining as
"Evening in the Village," where Suman's bass clarinet and Maneri's viola are
a rich embroidery of sound, stitched in braided patterns. Some songs touch
only lightly upon their founding melodies, inaugural seeds that warmly house
the essence and energy for the trio's new growth.
The music across these albums is held in a series of tensions: it contains
that kernel of its originary material, but at the same time can feel distant
from the vocal tradition that inspired it. It doesn't sound like something
that would be sung in the village square, but it can also sound radical in
the context of the concert halls and churches it was performed in. Too
well-dressed to be free improvisation, too tousled for classical music.
Maneri and Surman both work around the harmonic edges, straying into
microtonal realms that are a natural component of many folk musics but can
give an alien sheen to chamber music. Ban is a pianist of beautiful clarity,
but he can also be slyly non-linear, even his comping at times subverting
tidy resolution, like his staccato pressure building in "Violin Song II."
There's a risk, as this music resounds within the frescoed dome of the
Athenaeum, that it becomes divorced from that provincial spirit that
originally shaped it. This concerned Bartók, too. Alex Ross noted that he
"acknowledged the gap between what urban listeners considered folkish […]
and what peasants were actually singing and playing." Ban quotes Bartók
directly in the liner notes, where he claims that the "harsh characters" of
musical notation "cannot possibly render […] all the pulsing life of
peasant-music." But Cantica Profanaand
The Athenaeum Concert
are not ethnographic or nostalgic exercises; the goal is not imitation or
resurrection. The trio stand near a familiar old starting point and set off
a different way, where the path isn't so well-defined—or is waiting to be
cut. There’s often something haunting in the result, perhaps conjured in the
resonance of these concert spaces, where the trio becomes a medium for
something quite ghostly, tuned into an ancient and fragmented signal, orphic
melodies fleetingly brought into focus, glimpses through the thickets.
As these ethereal melodies surface in the developing improvisations—just
listen to the yearning when the theme finally emerges in "First Return" and
"Last Return"—I find myself marveling: how does this music,
abstracted so many steps from its source, so strongly retain its vital
character? The trio never neglects its emotional core. Improvisation becomes
the engine of that timeless emotive content. That pulsing life. It's a most
difficult thing: to catch hold of those deep-rooted musical qualities that
feel universal and then make them sound like something we haven't heard
before.
Saxophonist Jon Raskin is a restlessly innovative artist. From his work
with the Rova Saxophone Quartet to his graphical scores, Raskin has built a
uniquely brilliant body of work. Fellow Sacramento native, percussionist
Jon Bafus, also has an idiosyncratic style that perfectly complements
Raskin’s. Ultimately, It's Everything, the pair’s second duo
release, consists of eight vibrant, abstract pieces that brim with
spontaneity.
On “Small Events,” Bafus’ sparse beats and Raskin’s brief cluster of notes
build a mystical atmosphere. Raskin plays haunting melodic fragments while
Bafus adds evocative chimes and clattering sounds, creating an ethereal
soundscape. The ebb and flow of crystalline rhythms and angular lines
results in delightful tension.
The cinematic “Ants” that follows features Raskin’s soulful growling
baritone saxophone, weaving a bluesy melody over Bafus’ swaggering cadence.
The warm, passionate duet is at once provocative and mellifluous. Hints of
eastern influences pepper the improvisation before it embraces thrilling
dissonance with controlled abandon. This seamless transition is a natural
evolution of the music, resulting in a thematically unified, captivating
tune.
Elsewhere, “Gravel Path” is equally vivid, with Bafus’ percolating
polyrhythms providing an energetic backdrop for Raskin’s lyrical musings.
The simmering conversation builds momentum into an absorbing, complex poetic
dialogue. The repeating motifs change with each refrain, maintaining a
cohesiveness yet remaining refreshingly inventive.
The somber “Aggregte Brush” starts with a pastoral ambience. Bafus makes
his instruments darkly rustle and rumble while Raskin weaves a haunting
extemporization on his sopranino saxophone. He then lets loose an eloquent
solo, a mix of plaintive tones and fiery phrases, while Bafus’s muscular
percussion endows the track with a primal spirituality. This incandescent,
dynamic performance makes an apt conclusion to this stimulating album.
With Bafus’ elegant artwork gracing its cover,
Ultimately, It's Everything
is a fascinating and poignant recording that engrosses from the very first
bar to the last. It is a perfect example of synergistic creativity and
ingenuity. It is a major highlight in Raskin’s and Bafus’ uniformly superb
discography.
Frank Gratkowski's In Cahoots - Feat. Ingrid Laubrock (Klanggalerie, 2025)
German, Berlin-based woodwind player and composer Frank Gratkowski’s In
Cahoots began working in 2016 as an untitled, free improvised, and
non-hierarchical quartet featuring Cologne-based pianist-synth player Philip
Zoubek, double bass player Robert Landfermann, and drummer Dominik Mahnig.
This quartet released the live album Torbid Daylight (impakt Köln, 2020).
Soon this quartet expanded into a quintet with German-born, New York-based
tenor and soprano sax player Ingrid Laubrock. This quintet had its first
performance in Darmstadt in September 2023. It continued performing in 2024,
when it recorded its live debut album at LOFT in Cologne in April 2024 (on
its second performance), and plans more performances in 2026. Soon this
quartet expanded into a quintet with German-born, New York-based tenor and
soprano sax player Ingrid Laubrock, and this quintet had its first
performance in Darmstadt in September 2023. It continued to perform in 2024,
when it recorded its live debut album at LOFT in Cologne in April 2024 (on
its second performance), and plans more performances in 2026.
Gratkowski describes In Cahoots’ raison d'être with a quote of American
producer-guitarist-singer-songwriter T-Bone Burnett, relating to string
theory and music: “Beneath the subatomic particle level, there are fibers
that vibrate at different intensities. Different frequencies. Like violin
strings. The physicists say that the particles we are able to see are the
notes of the strings vibrating beneath them. If string theory is correct,
then music is not only the way our brains work, as the neuroscientists have
shown, but also, it is what we are made of, what everything is made of.
These are the stakes musicians are playing for".
This quote makes perfect sense when you listen to the debut album of In
Cahoots. The opening piece, “OKTF”, suggests In Cahoots connected by strong,
emphatic fibers and almost telepathic dynamics, relying on tight rhythmic
interplay and collective theme development, immediately solidifying the
camaraderie between Gratkowski (on alto sax, clarinets, and flute) and
Laubrock. But Gratkowski is also an ambitious composer and wise bandleader
who seeks to explore free tonal ideas, enhanced by unorthodox playing
techniques and microtonal concepts. The following pieces juggle with this
elusive, thoughtful play with elements taken from free jazz, free
improvisation, and contemporary music, enjoying the great experience of
Zoubek, Landfermann, Mahnig, Laubrock, their mutual trust, and their in
cahoots-like willingness for risk-taking. Their vibrations may work in
different intensities and frequencies, but together they move the music into
inspiring, thought-provoking territories.
Frank Gratkowski & Kazuhisa Uchihashi - Live in Japan (Innocence, 2025)
Frank Gratkowski and Japanese guitarist, daxophone player, producer, and Innocence label owner Kazuhisa Uchihashi have been working closely in recent
years. Uchihashi guested on Gratkowski and pianist Achim Kaufmann’s SKEIN
band, and both played in Kaufmann’s Trokaan project; Uchihashi plays in
Gratkowski’s new Entertainment quartet. and Gratkowski joined the
performances of Uchihashi’s Altered States trio, and Gratkowski and
Uchihashi performed as a duo in Europe and in Japan. Live in Japan was
recorded during the duo's second tour in Japan in October 2023.
Gratkowski plays the alto sax, bass clarinet, and flute, and Uchihasi plays
the electric guitar and daxophones. The nine pieces, taken from six
performances, are spontaneous, powerful, and intense conversations between
close friends who enjoy experimenting and challenging each other’s sonic
palette, often with unpredictable yet highly playful ideas. These
conversations often become a free associative exchange of eccentric gestures
when Uchihashi produces vocal-like sounds from the daxophones, and
Gratkowski answers with colourful bird calls, and both Uchihashi and
Gratkowski enhance their vocabularies with extended breathing, bowing, and
percussive techniques. Each piece suggests a distinct atmosphere and deepens
the immediate, imaginative interplay of these resourceful, great shamans of
sound.
