“The Coandă Effect is the tendency of a stream of liquid – or air – to stay attached to a convex surface
.
The jet keeps the object some distance from the exhaust and gravity
prevents it from being blown away.
Recorded live at the Sultan Room, Brooklyn, last autumn altoist Tim Berne
offers us a complex duo slab of evolving sound, with an astounding
contribution from drummer Nasheet Waits.
The album is spilt into two pieces of uneven length, the first – ‘Tensile’
– clocks in at a cool 39 minutes. I’d envisioned a slow building
progression over a track of such duration but Berne is up to 10. within
three mins of the opening note; blowing with sustained intense poise, but
never empty abandonment. Floor toms cascade into flowing propulsive
momentum, Waits lays forth a condensed textural palette – like the concept
was to drum out the deeper tones of the kit. Tolling out and prodding the
evolving base rhythm.
As in his epic performance on Rob Brown’s live album Unknown Skies
(a bass-less trio) Waits plays with particular intelligence to cover the
full tonal sound space, with emphasis on the kick drum and floor toms
creating huge rolling presence. He deploys a lot of ‘Africa’ in his mode of
playing in the first tom-heavy ‘solo’ – with a deep break that could be
channelled direct for Ghana, or perhaps Nigeria. This is Waits in his Tamarindo-style of playing – but at faster tempo, matching Berne’s
burn. Flowing. Pushing in flow.
As the saxophonist advances and expands into the half-way mark of ‘Tensile’
he plays with increasing conceptual repetitions and urban calculation,
before slowing into a solo space – searching and questioning the emotional
edges of some oblique city environment, yet here with more spontaneous
urgency than his recent ECM work.
A second drum space works up a deep, revolving build and reaches an
evocation of feeling through cymbals. The drum level perfectly balanced in
the mix, the live recording mastered by David Torn.
As ‘Tensile’ enters its last passage, intense angled spirals of alto sear
into the apex of the piece, circling into one another before settling into
a perfect descent. With the duo appearing surprised that they have been
creating at such a level for nearly forty minutes.
In its mere ten minutes, second track ‘5see’ unfolds amongst skitterish
brushwork and a more abstract tonal tract before the drumming unrolls into
itself until it sounds like it’s being played backwards. Berne tightens
into a circular snake-horn call with Roscoe Mitchell Chant-like
revolutions; cells of notes repeated over and over, introducing minute
variations of enduring hypnotic spirals right into its pin-point
resolution.
A wonderful set – and recording – capturing in its most concentrated form a
duo of unique power and intent: overflowing with intricate ideas.
Recommended – at volume – from a balcony, or through headphones – out
walking the deserted city.
The Canadian, Vancouver-based guitarist and oud player Gordon Grdina knows that making art is a political act, especially in today’s world dominated
by xenophobic and white supremacist leaders. This musical-political act
becomes even more important when your art draws inspiration from one of the
Muslim world and Middle-Eastern ancient musical traditions and asks to
enrich jazz and free-improv musical universes with these legacies.
Gordon Grdina’s The Marrow - Safar-e-Daroon (Songlines, 2020) *****
Grdina imagines with The Marrow quintet - double bass player Mark Helias,
cellist Hank Roberts, violinist Josh Zubot and percussionist Hamin Honari,
a peaceful music universe where the Middle-Eastern ancient musical
traditions - the Arabic - maqam- and the Persian - dastgah - modal systems,
extend African folk music, Western chamber music, jazz, and free-improv
ethos and legacy. Safar-e-Daroon (Inner Journey) is the sophomore album of
The Marrow, following Ejdeha (Songlines, 2018), and is probably the most
ambitious album of Grdina so far, defining a bold and organic aesthetics of
a true, genre-bending band.
Safar-e-Daroon was recorded in Vancouver in October 2018 and features nine
compositions, six are credited to Grdina and three for Helias. The album is
structured like a sonic journey where the meticulously arranged
compositions continue to add new meanings and insights to the musical
adventure and sketch a compassionate, rich vision. The Marrow play like a
mature, working band, with a great sense of passionate playfulness,
fluidity and precision, and poetic elegance.
The opening, title-pieces already sets the musical territory, an Arabic
maqam that developed naturally into an Iraqi folk georgina 10/16 rhythm,
lead by Grdina who solely plays the oud on this album. Helias’ “El Baz”
highlights The Marrow tight, intense but swinging dynamics. “Mini-con” was
conceived after talks about fake messiahs and semi cults led by charlatans
and “their ability to manipulate people is based on consistent cons that
have some shred of truth to them. It’s like many little mini-cons leading
to a big manipulation”. Here, as on “El Baz”, violinist Zubot takes the
lead with Grdina and offers a fiery yet lyrical solo that navigates between
colorful and imaginary, lost kingdoms, Eastern and Western ones. Helias
“Calling on You” enables Grdina and Zubot to develop a new kind of
interplay, raw, and free-improvised by Zubot, but more rhythmic and in the
Middle-Eastern tradition by Grdina who recognizes Helias experience with
famous Lebanese singer-oud player Marcel Khalife.
“Shamshir” stresses the crucial role of Iranian-Canadian percussionist
Honari and cellist Roberts who weave together an engaging melody that
unites Arabic percussive traditions with Indian-like raga cello solo.
“Convergence” expands the musical journey to Africa where Grdina’s oud
invokes an innocent and touching folk melody that pays tribute to the
cyclical songs of Egyptian oud player Hamza El Din and Malian
guitarist-singer-songwriter Boubacar Traoré. “Illumination” brings to the
fore Honari who leads The Marrow while creating a sensual vibe with the
daf, his Persian-Arabic with metal ringlets. Helias’ short “Outsize”
challenges The Marrow with its focus on an open and free contrapuntal
approach that injects an element of ambiguous tension. Safar-e-Daroon ends
with the most beautiful, choral-like song of “Gabriel James”, based on a
rhythmic riff that Grdina’s 4-years-old son strummed on the oud, now
arranged as a dream-like, harmonious melody.
Gordon Grdina Septet - Resist (Irabagast Records, 2020) ***½
Resist unites Grdina with close comrades - his East Van Strings quartet’s
violinist Jesse Zubot (the brother of Josh Zubot), violist Eyvind Kang, cellist Peggy Lee; drummer Kenton Loewen (his partner in the Peregrine
Falls duo and the Grdina Trio), bass player Tommy Babin (who also played in
the Grdina trio), and adds versatile sax player Jon Irabagon, who released
the album on his label. The album was recorded in July 2017, a day after
the sextet played its first and only performance at the Vancouver
International Jazz Festival.
“It seemed like there was a huge change happening socially and
politically,” Grdina says about Resist. “Xenophobia, homophobia, and racism
were raising their heads again. I wanted to dedicate this music to
everybody that’s fighting against these ideas all the time, whether they’re
doing it as a defendant or just at the dinner table. Making art is a
political act; it’s important for humanity, to make our lives better and to
express our resistance to these hindrances”. The album cover reflects this
notion and borrows Hieronymus Bosch’s famous painting Christ’s Descent into Hell, created around 1550, and depicting Christ tearing through the gates
of hell to save the souls that are wrongfully condemned there, as he falls
upon a land of pure chaos and danger.
The 23-minutes ambitious title-piece suite radiates faithfully this
melancholic spirit with its somber, chamber arrangement for string
instruments. Grdina, who alternates between guitar and oud and appears only
six minutes after its introduction, let the string instruments dominate
this piece. But his evocative oud playing, as well as Irabagon urgent and
intense cries, stress the even further the mournful atmosphere and the call
for resistance. The following, shorter four pieces offer more optimist
perspectives, beginning with the lyrical and emotional solo miniature
“Seeds”; “Varscona”, titled after an iconic theater in Edmonton, Alberta,
with Irabagon leading and the interlocking rhythmic games of Loewen and
Babin, is a post-bop, playful celebration; “The Middle” finds a delicate
balance between the intensity and powerful rhythmic patterns of Irabagon,
Loewen, and Babin and the more abstract and associative improvisations of
the string section, including Grdina himself; The last “Ever Onward”
attempts to suggest a better future with a moving, engaging melodic theme
based on Middle-Eastern scales, delivered by Grdina on the oud, and
definitely adds “something beautiful into the world”, as he concludes.
Gordon Grdina’s Nomad Trio - Nomad (Skirl, 2020) ****
Grdina teams up with New York-based pianist Matt Mitchell and drummer Jim
Black and presents a new trio that recorded its debut album after a short
Canadian tour. Grdina wrote six compositions with Mitchell and Black in
mind, and in a way, this body of work reflects the seminal influence of one
of his musical heroes, Tim Berne, a close collaborator of both Mitchell and
Black.
Grdina’s compositions suggest episodic compositional themes that leave
plenty of space and freedom for improvisation and personal contribution and
transform each one into a challenging journey, a nomadic process. Grdina
usually sketches snaky-labyrinthine, melodic lines on his electric guitar
that call Mitchell and Black to inject more jazz-based harmonious and
irregular rhythmic variations. This way, the trio builds its layered
dynamics in an organic manner before it locks on a tight, irresistible
groove.
The title-piece stresses the precise balance of this trio and its profound
rhythmic sense. The subtle “Benbow” develops beautifully the delicate
balance between the melodic core and the immediate and sudden
improvisations as well between intimate introspection and the powerful
stratospheric coda. Black takes the lead on “Thanksgiving” and the trio
builds the groove from the bottom up, intensifying by the determined work
of Black. Grdina plays the oud only on the last, lyrical “Lady Choral”
where the trio goes into a seductive, nomadic journey, highly playful and
exotic one.
Oudist and guitarist Gordon Grdina spanned the new year with three releases
that caught my ear. So, here is a second compendium of Grdina’s recent work
to complement
Eyal’s
from September 2018. Apparently, it is about time. (Editor's note: Eyal will be catching up again, tomorrow!)
Matthew Shipp, Mark Helias, and Gordon Grdina – Skin and Bones
(Not Two, 2019) *****
I am sorry I missed this last year, because this would have hovered around
the top of my year end list.
Skin and Bones
is the first of two piano trios, consisting of the incomparable Matthew
Shipp on keys and Mark Helias on bass. The title comes from a concert
series dedicated to experimental music that has brought a slew of
contemporary free jazz (and related music) luminairies to Canadan’s
Okanagan. In 2018, trio consisting of Shipp, Helias, and British Columbia
native Gordon Grdina were among them.
Inspired by their clear rapport, the trio decided to cut a studio album of
completely improvised material, judging by the titles, apparently inspired
by boxing. But, starting with the first track, it is clear they are doing
much more than providing the soundtrack to some bout of fisticuffs. It
begins with a starkly romantic run by Grdina that quickly gets swept up in
a gust of piano and pizzicato bass. Over the course of the first track,
“Bob and Weave,” the musicians seem to oscillate more with the vagaries of
the weather than bob and weave with the determined pugnacity of a boxer.
Indeed, there seems more surrender to melody and course, and some sort of
naturalism, in this piece that may be absent the controlled and aggressive
space.
And, it seems, the rest of the album follows with a series of boxing-themed
titles that, if the listener were to embrace the music’s naturalism,
relaxed flow, and titular double entendres (“Stick and Move,” “Feather
Weight” [rather than featherweight]). Indeed, it is not until the stormy
“The Onslaught” over 40 minutes into the album that I hear any real
aggression. Tension and virtuosic rapidity, of course, pop in and out of
previous tracks. Most, however, are slower, more contemplative and, even,
listless (“Solitary Figure”), and lyrical. That is not to say that these
traits are entirely absent from boxing; the most obvious example is
Muhammed Ali’s marriage of verbal and physical poetry, and his vernal
analogy of the boxer, the butterfly, and the bee. And, sure, we can trace
this back through Hellenistic ideals of naturalistic male beauty and
performance. I am cannot say the trio intended such a reading, but this
album seems to draw similar connections between the humanly brutal and the
deceptively whimsical natural realms. And beyond this album contains 72
minutes of absolutely engaging and absolutely stunning improv. Then again,
from these three musicians, would one expect anything less?
Gordon Grdina Quartet – Cooper’s Park (Songlines, 2019) ***1/2
This quartet seems to be working its way into one of Grdina’s more stable
working groups. Coming off their 2017 release Inroads, Cooper’s Park is a solid collection of five, primarily mainstream
jazz pieces. Although the musicianship is impeccable and them music
periodically breaks into stilted melodies and abstract group
improvisations, this album shines less than the other two reviewed here.
Drummer Satoshi Takieshi lays swinging grooves over which Oscar Noriega
navigates his reeds and through which Ross Lossing weaves his keys (piano,
Rhodes, and clavinet). For his part, Grdina gives a solid performance and
shows that he can rein in his more exploratory impulses. Because of the
music’s creative conventionality (neologism or nonsense?) and its gentle
dynamism (especially the in tracks like “Seeds” and the titular “Cooper’s
Park” the effort is much tighter than Grdina’s more freewheeling releases.
And, Cooper’s Park does venture beyond the contemporary funk-laced
jazz into prog rhythm and restrained free jazz discordance. At times, as in
the enchantingly delicate ten-minute introduction to “Wayward”, first
Grdina, then Lossing, followed by Noriega and Takieshi shine through an
understated economy rather than forceful superfluity of melody and
consonance. These excursions and extended blissful passages, however,
remain the exception and the result somewhat less compelling than some of
Grdina’s more out recordings.
Gordon Grdina’s Nomad Trio – Nomad (Skirl Records, 2020) ****½
Nomad
is the newest of the bunch and the second piano trio. On this disc, Grdina
is complemented by Matt Mitchell (who, especially
as
of
late
, has been showing himself to be one of the premier pianists in the scene)
and Jim Black on drums.
Coming off listening to Skin and Bones, it is clear from the very
first notes of the opener “Wildlife” that Nomad is a different
beast. It has a more rhythmic, free rock vibe. It has more recognizable
melodic progressions and harmonies. Some of this may be attributable to the
fact that Grdina composed all tracks himself. That said, Nomad is
still open and heavily improvisational. Grdina may set the direction, but
Mitchell and Black help take us there. Take “Wildfire.” It begins with
discordance. Grdina meanders around his electric guitar; Mitchell plods
around a plucky series of chords and rhythms; Black fumbles around and
crashes magnificently. It is difficult to hear what is composed apart from
maybe the mood of the starting point, the basic trajectory of the piece,
and a coda at the end. Then again, the piece is unified. Despite a lot of
freedom to wander, the track moves to a singular effect. Most other tracks,
including the eponymous “Nomad,” are of a similar ilk, even as their
compositions come out more clearly in repeated melodies that lay the
groundwork for the improvisational meat that follows. This is fusion,
tending toward thick guitar lines and stilted, heavy melodicism, minus the
soaring (and showy) flourishes that the latter label evokes. It is not that
the band plays with Bauhaus/new objectivity instrumentality or shuns
displays of virtuosity; rather, when they do embellish, they do so with
purpose. The end-products are more meditations on converging styles or a
mood than the start-stop melodic jumbling that a lot of composed guitar
music of this type tends toward. The final cut, “Lady Choral,” is a
seductive, Iberian outlier, wherein Grdina, unplugs and turns to the oud
for an extended solo. The result is a sparser, but deeply emotive piece
that seems to reference classical Arabic music even more than the heavier
guitar music that drives the rest of the album. A moving and meditative
departure, and perfect conclusion to a compelling excursion to the fault
where hard(er) rock and free jazz merge (or deviate).
Threadbare are a trio of Chicago musicians comprising Jason Stein on bass
clarinet, Ben Cruz on guitar and Emerson Hunton on drums. Stein has enjoyed
a long career as an avant-bass clarinetist in Chicago, as well as a string
of releases spread across different projects, including playing with Ivo
Perelman on 'Spiritual Prayers'. He leads Locksmith Isidore and his own
Quartet and co-leads Hearts and Minds and Nature Work.
Guitar player Ben Cruz is an Oberlin College graduate and a versatile
guitarist. Drummer Emerson Hunton is also an Oberlin graduate and has both
power in his rhythms and an understanding of when to cut, tinker and dive
right back in. Both Cruz and Hunton play in indie band Moontype, and Hunton
is a Modern Dance Accompanist at the Hyde Park School of Dance, and Music
Program Manager at Logan Square's Comfort Station art space. They share
composition of tracks on this CD.
The opening track, 'And When Circumstances Arise' is a great example of how
a track is built around the musicians who are creating it. The opening is
bass clarinet playing phrases of 4, 6 ,4,5, notes with the drum thudding at
the end of each phrase before the rhythm changes very briefly to triads and
the piece segues into a rock-leaning number - the guitar and drums
continuing the rhythm whilst the bass clarinet follows and diverges away
into patterns of its own. What is also very creative is the guitar in the
background, which changes rhythm apace with the clarinet. By the halfway
mark, Stein is travelling the full registers of the clarinet whilst the
drums and guitar work around his lead, crafting supporting webs which lift
and bounce the bass sounds aloft. The quieter final section is instigated
by the drum dropping back and the bass clarinet soaring into upper
registers and takes the listener by surprise in its gentleness.
'Threadbare' is calming, tentative almost at the start with extended,
breathy bass clarinet notes and atmospheric cymbals and guitar. The
introduced ascents developing in the bass clarinet lines stress the
quietude - and the gaps between the notes also play their part. A track
with changing rhythms, emphasis and a sense of building. After the five
minute mark everyone is improvising along their line and it gets really
interesting, with Stein way up on the register and then switching down with
ease. The final two minutes are glorious.
'70 Degrees and Counting Down' is introduced by guitar, over which the
clarinet sighs a gentle melody - for about 30 seconds before the drums
introduce a heavier rhythm and the others respond. Then a sudden drop to a
gentle interlude which in turn morphs again into a rocky, pounding section
before bass clarinet solos. The guitar joins and there is a dialogue, into
which the drum rudely wedges itself but proves worth the room as it leads
the trio with the heavy, determined beat, to heady heights and Stein comes
into his own - inspirational.
'24 Mesh Veils' sees the trio investigating varied patterns and the guitar
is given space to solo, proving the choice of Cruz for the role an
excellent one. Here Stein largely shows his supportive side as he now
provides the steady underlying support over which the guitar sings. At
times the huge, deep sound of the bass clarinet come across so clearly, it
is as if there is a bass onside as well.
'Funny Thing Is' is snappy, riotous and light from all players initially
before the natural progression to a deeper, more textured sound prevails
and the rapid paced drums, steady guitar and slightly deranged speedy
progressions and drops from Stein make this a delight to hear.
If 'Threadbare' is meant to show what the band Threadbare are about, it
serves its purpose. In this track there is free flowing improvised music
with Stein on stut notes and popping his wood, as well as more traditional
leaning towards pop/ rock and ensemble playing. There is noise, there is
travel through genres, there is space and delight in the beauty held within
the notes.
'Silver Dollar' announces its intent with crashing drums, chords on guitar
and loud belly rumbles from the clarinet. What strikes here is the vitality
and importance of the tight support over which Stein rises, falls and
rolls. Stein here is pretty amazing and he demonstrates nearly all that a
bass clarinet can do. This track is full-on; it is huge; it is fiery,
intense noise and it is musical. If you turn the headphones up it nearly
takes your head off - wonderful music. The standout track on this album of
beauties.
'Untitled' completes the album and this track is a contrast, with the first
minute taken up by weird and wonderful guitar over which the sax offers
breathy extended notes and later gentle phrases, delivered slow and then
rapid-fire in upper register of the bass clarinet, creating at times an
almost metallic purity. By the halfway point the track is heavier,
developing layers, skins and texture and it is the drums again which
largely emphasis the changes both in rhythms and pattern. Cruz is given
space in which to solo, which he takes and produces a well structured
delivery. An explorative track which highlights the importance of each
musician.
Together Crus and Hunton provide a solid, bubbling rhythm section , tight
against Stein's fluid and effervescent bass clarinet. They never overshadow
the genius of Stein but they also know when to up the ante and become showy
in their own right.
Throughout, the playing on all sides is excellent, both tasteful and
forceful at once. Jason Stein demonstrates the exquisite possibilities of
the bass clarinet and hearing Cruz and Stein trade off on this album is an
absolute thrill. Yet the valuable presence of Hunton on drums and
percussion cannot be underestimated. It is often the drums which direct,
change the tempos and lead - subtly but with an authority not often seen in
such a young player. this combination makes for an intelligent, well
delivered and bloody marvelous listen.
Since seeing him live solo and with his gong orchestra in
Columbus, OH, in 2017, I have wanted to review Tatsuya Nakatani.I even picked up several albums that
evening.Some, however, were too
old.Others were good (and recommended)
but did not come close enough to capturing what I experienced live.His music is music you feel, literally,
through vibrations.The layers of sound
gather in the eardrums and resound throughout the room and surround the
audience.(Yes, this is an unapologetic
endorsement for seeing him live whenever you get the chance.)It is just too difficult to capture on
record what makes Nakatani so unique live.
Technical limitations aside, Live in Lisbon does an admirable job of capturing some of that
physicality.And, much of that has to do
with his bandmates Rafael Toral and John Edwards. Edwards, of course, is a legend of the English
free improv scene. Toral, however, was
unfamiliar to me when I first listened to this.FJB has covered him before and, as it turns out, he actually has appeared
on several Sei Miguel releases I own. It
seems Toral gets around the Lisbon scene.This album showcases why.He has
big ideas, concerted restraint, and a lot of talent.
Recorded live in Lisbon and Cascais (a little west of the
capital) in 2009, Live in Lisbon is a
metallic (not metal) soundscape aficionado’s dream.The three tracks are live recordings, and
they sound like live recordings.And,
between the scrapes, crashes, sawing, electronic flutterings, space sounds,
ball-bearings rolls, and, yes, even some straightforward walking bass and set
drumming, it works remarkably well.This
music does not sound muddled or muted, as some of these live sessions do.Instead, it sounds full.
The musicians give each other space, but not too much space,
and the sounds frequently bleed into each other.The bass at times sounds like muffled beeps
from Toral, whose electronic scrapes converge with Nakatani’s acoustic
ones.At other times, all three
musicians forage through a thick morass of low tones, only to break out in an
inspired collective improvisation of a caliber that I have rarely found in such
line-ups. Often, electronics simply fill the background or shatter the
eardrums.Not in this case.All three musicians expertly oscillate
between back- and foreground, between lead and arrhythmic rhythm.
All three tracks are powerful and deploy a similar bag of
tricks, albeit to subtly different effects.The first and second tracks – Lisbon and Cascais I - are wide-ranging, exploring
the gamut from minimalist sound-sculpturing to brief, but satisfying explosions
of sound, to spacy harmonies of bass, electronic, and bowed gong drones that
you can almost feel.Those movements lead
into an extended stream of classic free improv (with electronics) explorations
based as much on subtle sonic textures and wending contours as on the driving
rhythm section. The third track, Cascais
II, paves a similarly brooding but glistening path.A real pleasure, through and through.
The Few, a trio from Chicago, released Beauty at Low Temperatures last Autumn. The CD was swept atop my piles of music over the winter, where it stared it at me expectantly for months. Then, a rather random post on Facebook following the meme of "post the cover of an album each day that has influenced you ... " had me searching my other other piles of music for the Spontaneous Music Ensemble's Karyobin. This elusive gem from 1968 (my version is the beautifully remastered one from 2017 from Emanem) featured the mouth-watering collective of John Stevens, Evan Parker, Kenny Wheeler, Derek Bailey, and Dave Holland, fully engaged in a new, holistic approach to improvisation. It was a little later this same day, coincidentally, that I put on the album from The Few that had been patiently waiting on my desk.
The Few is Macie Stewart, whose violin and voice often blend into a sound of its own; Charlie Kirchen, who is patient and expressive on the bass; and Steve Marquette whose approach to the guitar has absorbed the deconstruction of the aforementioned Bailey as well as American folk (among other influences). The group, which can be strikingly delicate, can also be delicately striking, mixing gossamer haze with confident pulsations. They have no problem generating a big sound, even as they embrace the acoustics of the their instruments to create music that celebrates the sounds of strings and wood, weaving the threads of improvised music together into their own wholly new approach.
The first track of Beauty at Low Temperatures is called "Hideout" and was recorded at the Hideout in Chicago in November 2018, while the other track, "May Chapel," was recorded just about a year earlier in December 2017 at Chicago's May Chapel. Between these two tracks, there are not so much 'stand out' moments as there is an aggregation of many smaller, absorbing ones, ideas that emanate from the musicians, manifest on one instrument and carry over to another. "Hideout" is dark, sometimes even a bit spooky. What begins with a strike of harmonics on the guitar and taught, edgy overtones from the strings (I assume the violin), evolves into an delicate dance as the three musicians play off of each other, building something together. The track's tempo picks up at times, especially when Kirchen's thrumming bass notes seem to be sloughing off the violin glissando. In "May Chapel" there is long evolving passage that taps into the collective Americana subconscious, which after long run, like a premonition of the current American unraveling, does the same.
Finally, here is where my earlier thoughts come in: it feels like these three young musicians are quietly and confidently defining their own music, which a bit like SME, subsumes the individual and rewards deeply felt interactions. There are no solos, though there are passages where Stewart's violin and voice, or Kirchen's bass, present themselves solo; however, even when this happens, it serves to continue the collective's idea. Maybe I just primed myself by listening to the other album prior, but I'd like to think that even though the instrumentation is completely different, the players are from continents separated by an ocean, and the recordings were made over 50 years apart, that it is rather something about the deep connections and purposeful sounds that helped me draw a connection. Beauty at Low Temperatures is ephemeral, but solidly rooted, like the music that still intrigues from Karyobin. Drawing from a deep well of creativity and musical trust, the The Few has developed a timeless sound that they capture on this fantastic recording.
A double-slab of extended improvisation featuring a cross-generational
meeting of masters musicians. As the joke goes, take my money! But
seriously, this is one of those superb projects, where a musician like
guitarist Karl Evangelista is able to simultaneously collaborate with and
pay tribute to living legends in the free improvisation community. Bringing
together saxophonist Trevor Watts and drummer Louis Moholo-Moholo (who have
not recorded together in several decades) is the rare long-delayed reunion
that far exceeds one’s expectations.
Born in 1939 and 1940, respectively, Watts and Moholo-Moholo have taken
their playing to the very far edges of free , both settling into
late-career partnerships with talented pianists. Watts has recorded several
albums with Veryan Weston, from duets to the latest quartet configuration.
And Alexander Hawkins has shown himself to be Moholo-Moholo’s partner in
spirit, as well as in music. Bringing these three together is Evangelista,
a Filipino-American guitarist living in California’s Bay Area. Why are
geography and heritage worth mentioning here, now? I think (maybe hope is a
better term) most of the readers are familiar with the history among these
players, but for those who don’t know about Moholo-Moholo, he, along with
the charter members of the legendary Blue Notes (including Dudu Pukwana,
Mongezi Feza, Johnny Dyani, and Chris McGregor), escaped from apartheid in
South Africa during the 1960s. The pain of discrimination and the vitality
of community has been at the center of Moholo-Moholo’s art for over 50
years, and players like Evangelista, Watts, and Hawkins know how to bring
their own struggles to the fore on songs like “Utang Na Loob,” “Resist,”
“Harana,” and the superb “Refugees.”
For Evangelista, this was really my introduction to his playing. I was
aware of him as a fellow Californian, but Apura! is the first I’ve had a
chance to dig in and listen to his technique, get a feeling for his
perspective. For a lineup that strongly hints at Derek Bailey’s long
shadow, Evangelista’s found a path that’s more punkishly angular, further
down Noël Akchoté’s lineage. You can hear this in the opening minutes of
“Apura!” where he and Watts chase a winding melody, punctuated by Hawkins’s
block chords. I’ve written about Hawkins and the historical depth he brings
to his playing. Hearing him and Evangelista both, as they pay homage to and
gently push away from their elders highlights just how deep the respect
goes. Were it not for Watts and Moholo-Moholo also simultaneously grasping
for and rejecting the playing of their elders, free improvisation wouldn’t
be where it is today. Thus, the only logical path forward requires some
respectful tension. “Utang Na Loob” opens with a restrained, almost
melancholic vibe, before settling into a riveting, fiery dance between
Evalgelista, Hawkins, and Moholo-Moholo.
It’s impossible to resist a title like “I Eat Death Threats for Breakfast,”
a bold, pulsing track that kicks off the outstanding middle section. Watts
again sits out, but he opens “Resist” in the very upper register, like
trailing smoke rising to the sky. Gradually, the rest of the band members
follow his lead, with notes spiking up and out of various corners of the
mix. In the final minutes, Moholo-Moholo kicks the quartet into action, and
the result is something like the musical equivalent of a sequence from The
Battle of Algiers.
“Balikbayan” features some pointed duetting from Hawkins and Evangelista.
The title, a Tagolog word for someone returning to the Philippines, hints
at the extended lines of family and community drawn across the album. Where
do we belong? What identity defines or contains us? How do we reach across
oceans, borders, walls? In the end (almost literally, as the final song is
titled “Consummatum Est”), it’s music and art that transcend the physical
realm. As “Consummatum Est” spins forward in its closing minutes, Hawkins
settles into a mid-range figure that Watts picks up and runs with, the two
sprinting towards the finish, handing off the baton to Evangelista for a
subtle, final statement. At nearly two hours, I wasn’t even close to
feeling ready for it to end. Just like with
Hawkins’s own Unit[e]
and
Angelika Niescier Trio’s The Berlin Concert, Apura! is another modern classic, sure to sit alongside the many records
that inspired it, and hopefully the future albums it spawns.
A vinyl and digital album, Today is Better than Tomorrow is a
collection of two live sessions. The first, track one and side A, is
performed by the tentet and was recorded at the International Jazz Festival
Saalfelden in 2013. The second, both tracks on side b, were recorded by the
nonet at Zomer Jazz Fiets Tour Groningen in 2018.
The pieces on this recording are not new in themselves. Today Is Better
Than Tomorrow/In Our Midst, combines one of Angles’ “go to” anthems (Today
is on both Epileptical West - Live in Coimbra (Angles 6) and By Way of Deception - Live in Ljubljana (Angles 8)) recorded in
2009 and 2013 respectively. The second half of this combo, In Our Midst,
comes from the eponymous Angles 9 release from 2013. From side B, Ubabba
was featured on the 2009 release Injuries (Angles 10). Love Flee
Thy House (Breslau) was first captured on the Angles 9’s 2017 releaseDisappeared Behind the Sun. In other words, Today is Better than Tomorrow is something of a re-visitation of
the last decade of the Angles’s evolving rotation.
Along with Mats Gustaffsson, Andreas Werliin, and Johan Berthling’s Fire!,
the Martin Küchen-led Angles have become the international face of
Scandinavian efforts to bring soulful fire music, kicking and screaming
into the 21st century. (Werliin and Berthling, in fact, are
party to both projects.) Today, however, is hardly just a
nostalgic recapitulation of some admittedly stellar studio recordings.
Compared to those, the music actually seems somewhat tamed, or maybe aged
in the deepened, enological sense of the term. The “fire” rarely reaches
too high, though the flame frequently burns a brilliant blue and flitter in
fantastic patterns. Indeed, the spacious extended passages and the
reconfiguration of recognized compositions and configurations make this
release a beast of its own nature, something much greater than a “greatest
hits live.”
When a live album like this works, it does so because it transforms the
music. Familiar melodies appear out of a churning unfamiliar morass. Just
listen to introduction to Today is Better than Tomorrow, which substitutes
lamenting horns for the prolonged percussion and vibe invocation that
introduces the Epileptical West version. Or, jump to the tempered
transition bridging Today and In Our Midst, whose long and winding
procession imbues this track with a new ritualistic potency.
Flip to side B and the listener is greeted by a spirited rendition of
Ubabba. Werliin and Berthling and their compadres in the boiler room,
Mattias Ståhl (vibraphone) and Alexander Zethson (piano), are in complete
sympatico as they forge an infectious groove over which the horns bluster
and moan. Especially compared to the first side, this piece is a big band
extravaganza a la late Sun Ra Arkestra (RIP Danny Ra Thompson). As the
fanfare subsides, Ubabba bleeds into a dirge-like introduction for Love
Flee They House, which, at around three minutes, switches gears into a
driving, salsa rhythm and horn flourish. The piece deviates into a few
billowing horn solos, then falls back into the undulating funereal march,
which drives the song forward until its final decrescendo.
Angles is an incredible project and Today is Better than Tomorrow
is testament to that. However, I was equal parts excited and cautiously
curious when I first came across this. On the one hand, I thought, “Another
Angles album?!?! Sign me up.” On the other hand, I wondered whether another
live album of compositions previously released and recorded live was really
necessary (to the extent that “necessary” has meaning in the age of digital
reproduction.) For those who already own the rest of the Angles catalogue
but stop short of being completists, this is likely unessential. Some of
the detours are surprising and the first side, in particular, moved me more
than other recordings of those tracks separately had. Still, there is
nothing shocking about the direction the band is travelling or the means it
uses to get it there. Then again, this is straight up Angles caught on some
pretty magical nights, and for that alone it is at least worth a listen.
And, for those of you who are new to the group, harken: this is as fine an
introduction as any.
Vocalist Patty Waters is an icon of avant-garde jazz, in spite of her
relatively slim discography. Discovered by Albert Ayler in the early
sixties, her 1965 debut on ESP-Disk matches a set of her own compositions,
graced with the wisdom of longing, to a scalding rendition of the Scottish
folk song ‘Black is the Color of My True Love’s Hair.’ The song has been a
jazz staple since Nina Simone’s sultry resuscitation, but Waters’ version
is a different beast, pairing an alternately screamed and whispered vocal
with tumultuous backing. Pianist Burton Greene was once derogated by Amiri
Baraka as an “anti-spiritual” musician for playing the inside of the piano
with violent abandon; but here the entire group strains at the limits of
musical idiom, maintaining a breakdown for almost a quarter hour. If the A
side of ‘Sings’ is haunted, the B side is surely possessed.
In spite of only intermittent performances since her iconic recordings of
the 1960s, Waters’ reputation has continued to grow, affirmed by the praise
of subsequent generations of listeners and the warmth of reception that
attends her few appearances. In a happy development for admirers, both of
her 2018 live appearances—in Brooklyn and Houston respectively—were
documented for release. Featuring Burton Greene on piano, Barry Altschul on
drums, and Mario Pavone on bass, these two documents are distinctly
indispensable in spite of slightly overlapping setlists; for a band of this
pedigree is to be cherished.
Released by Blank Forms, a label and curatorial platform based out of New
York,
Live
presents selections from the group’s April 5th performance at the First
Unitarian Congregational Society in Brooklyn. From the first chords of
‘You’ve Changed,’ one of several standards altered forever by the voice of
Billie Holiday, a mist of wistfulness envelops the listener. This is a coy
choice of opener, addressing the passage of time before her
multigenerational audience; and Waters sings with tremulous incredulity.
The album is almost entirely comprised of exquisitely weird, or deceptively
subdued, standards; the emphatically slurred chords of ‘I’m So Lonesome I
Could Cry’ purr below Greene’s fingers in response to Waters’ falling
intonation, before the melody abruptly dissipates in a repetitive whimper;
while Pavone and Altschul, who played together in Paul Bley’s trio,
communicate deftly across a searching rendition of ‘Lover Man.’ Side A
concludes with Waters’ best known composition, and the first track from her
debut album, ‘Moon, Don’t Come Up Tonight.’ The melody’s chromatic descent
remains as haunting here as in its initial, stripped-down version, but
Greene invites the lyric’s lovesick wanderer to come inside, as it were,
contributing a bluesy warmth, as Altschul embellishes Waters’ spacious
phrasing with almost scalar fills and beautiful brushwork.
The album continues with a deconstructed medley of ‘Strange Fruit’ and
‘Nature Boy’—two powerfully overdetermined staples of the Great American
Songbook, popularized by Billie Holiday and Nat King Cole respectively. For
this central statement, the music dissolves into an array of percussive
effects distributed across the entire group, making the seam between the
two songs a matter of lyric discretion. This sequence links two disparate
pastorals: the upsetting scenery of ‘Strange Fruit,’ which describes a
lynching by way of the disinterested landscape, and the mysterious
visitation of ‘Nature Boy,’ which takes on a different, haunted character
as a result. This suggestive pairing is followed by a version of Ornette
Coleman’s ‘Lonely Woman,’ featuring Waters’ own words. This is one of two
lyric versions in circulation; Waters’ version was previously recorded with
The Marzette Watts Ensemble, while another lyric by Margo Guryan has been
recorded by Chris Connor, Freda Payne, Radka Toneff, and others. Here in
particular, Waters’ vocal weeps with a pathos that other, more restrained
versions avoid; and skittish cymbals summon the inedible original.
Released by Clean Feed Records,
An Evening in Houston
was recorded only days after the Brooklyn concert, on April 9th,
as part of the Nameless Sound series. The album opens with a palpitating
version of ‘You’re My Thrill,’ a duo for voice and drums. Altschul’s brush
work introduces the record, and Waters approaches the familiar lyric as a
loose recitative, as though discovering the words in air. ‘Moon, Don’t Come
Out Tonight’ is somehow woozier, more languid, as Waters’ voice—beseeching,
searching, psithuristic—gives the impression of a whispered secret.
‘Lonely Woman,’ which began in Brooklyn as an ominous piano invocation,
opens on unaccompanied tremor in the voice, a moment of mimetic
inspiration. Moody and wounded, this take is a highlight. So is a stripped
down version of the standard ‘Don’t Explain,’ in which Pavone’s bass and
Waters’ vocal circle each other conversationally. “You know I love you,”
Waters sings, at which point a simmering snare picks up beneath the duo;
subtle as a change in temperature. Greene’s lightly prepared piano
announces ‘Hush Little Baby,’ an abstracted nursery rhyme that originally
appeared on Waters’ second album, 1966’s College Tour. On the
original recording, a fricative hiss blends the sizzle of the cymbals in a
menacing lullaby. Here, Waters repeats the lyric pleadingly, intelligibly,
as the band fidgets beneath.
Each of these recent albums close on ‘Wild is the Wind,’ which appears on College Tour as a companion piece to ‘Black is the Color of My
True Love’s Hair.’ Both songs, after all, were staples of Nina Simone’s
repertory, debuting on her 1959 album Nina Simone at Town Hall,
and Waters and co. give them a similarly chilling treatment. Much as Waters
makes a central incantation of the word ‘black’ in 1966, she catches
upon the keyword ‘wild’ in these takes, becoming that keyword.
These releases are not companion pieces in any sense; perhaps they are
echoes of a sort. But each setlist gives the uncanny feeling of hearing
something familiar for the first time. Simply put, if you want either one,
you’d best get both. A group this lean and yet meandering, with this much
history behind them, is rare.
Pat Moonchy is a vocalist who has performed across the globe as a solo
artist and with various collaborators including Todd Tobias, Alfa Neu and
more. She ran the alternative community hub, The Moonshine Pub until 2015
and her interest in art is integral to her persona and music. She has
studied shamanism and her discovery of the tanpura - a long necked Indian
stringed instrument - was integral to the development of her vocal
technique. Past bands include Doublegänger with Lucio Liguori, (grandson
of free drummer Lino Liguori), Gopala and collaborations with many
experimental musicians as well as solo projects.
Lucky Liguori is a multi instrumentalist and electronic sound creator.
Together Moonchy and Liguori are Sothiac. The duo have played with many
different musicians in many different settings. Based in London they have
toured China, Europe and Japan. Their most recent albums are Sothis (2016)
and Erebia Christi (2017) which blend elements of free jazz, landscape,
industrial_noise and psychedelic/doom. Over the last twenty years they have
played with Faust, Sawada, Angelo Avogadri, Lino Liguori, Angelo Contini,
Dirk Dhonau, Lars Nicolaysen.
A meeting of the duo with bass clarinet player Paul Jolly led to a new
collaboration and project, with Paul featuring on this recording. Just two
tracks - one of over 20 minutes and the other just over 8 minutes the
interactions between the vocals, electronics and bass clarinet is
different, extraordinary and there are moments of exquisite amalgamations
where the sounds meet in a place outside normal range but where the
imagination knows no bounds. The recording was made during a period when
all the musicians were in lock down, which makes it all the more
extraordinary. It is hoped the collaboration continues once everything goes
back to some kind of normality.
Phase 1 is 20 minutes plus of extraordinary sounds. A cymbal opens the
number and sets the atmospheric theme with bass clarinet entry high, reedy
and then dipping right down to a growling presence, over which the eerie
wail of the vocals rises and soars over the top; not so much of an
emergence, more of a falling on to the solidity of the echoic backdrop of
the electronics and bass clarinet. The vocals are exemplary and Pat Moonchy
seems to have an ability to hit the notes the brain is missing when seeking
coherency in this music. In some cases her extended vibrato is almost
impossible to believe.
Sothiac is the Egyptian name for the Dog Star and fits well in this case
with the spacey, atmospheric feelings around this music as the voice
searches, extends and pushes whilst the bass clarinet plugs the gaps in
tonal, rounded sounds, contrasted by raw, breathy upper register notes
which add a sense of intrigue into the framework. The spiritual quality of
this music is implosive, overpowering and the imagination runs riot as
crackling, throaty sounds are intertwined with the explorative clarinet and
electronic background.
The vocals are astounding as they soar creating swirling, achingly
beautiful wreaths of sound. As 'Phase 1' develops the sense of the ethereal
is difficult to shake off and there is a sense of a wraith, passing across
the land, dipping down every so often to give sounds which are audible to
human ears but also wafting into the ether where no ear can follow. It is
an experience listening to this music, the vocals , powerful, exploratory ;
the electronics and percussion temporal yet permanently present and the
bass clarinet offering at time melodic phrases and at others jittery notes
which counter the spiritual vocals with their sense of grounding.
Considering the difference in range and pitch between Moochy's voice and
instrument, the bass clarinet is an inspired choice and very effective in
this combination. The last third sees the vocals stretched almost beyond
credulity whilst the clarinet continues its path, low and sonorous, motifs
responding to clear linear sounds from the voice. Strings and electronic
sounds lead for a while and the vocals rest and then re-enter and it is at
this point the pattern to the voice becomes clear. A repeated phrase, a
line or two taken, re-invented but the same line used again, the use of
patterns creates familiarity. It is quite, quite extraordinary how
listenable this is, the sense of the lost, wandering spirit over grounded
bass, and the knowledge that because this music inspires the imagination,
everyone will have different images when they hear it.
'Phase 2' is again announced by a gong-like cymbal but there is a deeper
emphasis to this part of the recording, the clarinet more apparent, the
vocals more constructed and stronger then before even. The way the cymbals
and clarinet work and weave together is extraordinary, the enhanced echoes
of the percussion resonating over the sound work of the clarinet line. This
is a great phase where 3 exploratory improvisers are listening and bouncing
off each other to create deeply textured and interesting interactions.
Pat Moonchy's voice has inborn vocal characteristics and a distinctive
signature, both of which have been enhanced by training and are now tools
honed to almost perfection, which she uses at will. 'Lucky' Lucio Liguori
brings a sense of exploration, electronic skills and instrumental
combination techniques and Paul Jolly brings his experience, musicality and
explorative skills, all of which serve to create something intense,
extraordinary and quite lovely.
