Robert Lucaciu - Fallen Crooner (Unit Records, 2026)

 

By Sarah "Flake" Grosser

The words “performative male” get thrown around online a lot these days. Is it “performative” for a male to release a feminist free jazz album? One could be forgiven for assuming so on the surface, but considering bass player/composer Robert Lucaciu has been piecing Fallen Crooner  together for the last 5 years, you’ve gotta admit, it’s an enormous level of commitment to the bit. According to his instagram, Lucaciu “deconstructs his own (cis-)male self-understanding and invites a cast of remarkable musicians (...) Laura Totenhagen (vocals), Pascal Klewer (trumpet), Shannon Barnett (trombone), Sofía Salvo (baritone saxophone), and Moritz Baumgärtner (drums) to engage in a joyful discourse on gender roles.” It all begins with stripping back the ego and powering up the estrogen levels to 11, starting with a set of (epic) powder pink big-band suits. NICE!

Lucaciu writes: “While in one reality a loud, raging final struggle for the age-old patriarchy is being fought, burying any doubt under misogynistic crudeness, in another, a new space is opening for a softer, more critical form of masculinity. As old, rigid boundaries melt away, fear dissolves, and the search for an individual definition begins. What do my gender and my sexuality mean? What responsibility do I carry as an individual in a social context?”

Despite being the frontman, Lucaciu provides plenty of space for vocalist Totenhagen to take centre stage. Jazz with vocals is always going to be something of an acquired taste – some prefer theirs purely instrumental. While there are plenty of short, textural interludes where Lucaciu allows the musicians to express themselves freely, it’s Totenhagen’s clear, confident voice that impresses and continues to surprise throughout. Boasting an incredible spectrum of character, her colourful range of mouth-sounds are as diverse and dynamic as that of a professional voice-actor. Having said that, she is also quite a delightful crooner, who clearly has great experience singing jazz. Here on opening track “Imposter,” we see her inverting gender, taking on the role of the aforementioned fallen crooner; the “ridiculous man.” She outlines his insecurities in first person, becoming the very character she is lampooning. It sets the scene with her gradual switch from swanky lounge crooner to all-out avant-garde improvising vocalist. The humour is further emphasized through a toe-tapping call-and-response of “I am ridiculous / (He is ridiculous) / I am a dick / (Oh what a dick).”

It should be noted that even though the subject matter is “ridiculous,” the music itself never slips into cheese or classlessness. This is quite an impressive feat for an album that features poetic references to “booty,” “farts,” and “sharts;” see “Prose Poems,” featuring Totenhagen’s dramatic reading of a poem by actor/writer Teresa Spencer. On the contrary, while the jazz is mostly playful, the musicianship and attention to detail is top tier. Baumgärtner's expressive drumming meets a forward-thinking brass section to die for: Barnett, Salvo, and Klewer each add their own unique voices to the experimental dialogue. 

Yes, track 6’s “Lonely Woman” is Fallen Crooner’s take on Ornette, further adding to the discussion by pairing it with “a nude by edward hopper:” a text written in 1967 by German-born American poet Lisel Mueller. Ornette was inspired to write the original melody when he saw the face of a rich white woman “who had absolutely everything that you could desire in life, and she had the most solitary expression in the world.” He is quoted as saying he had “never been confronted with such solitude” before going home to write the piece. Lucaciu takes the famous opening track of “The Shape of Jazz to Come” and connects it brilliantly with a text mirroring the same loneliness that Mueller interpreted in Edward Hopper’s nude figures of lonely, solitary women.

The epilogue features Lucaciu up front and centre for a bass solo with all the gusto and low-end rumble and power of a whirring helicopter, but this soon makes way for a more selective and harmonic melody; a little like Lucaciu’s audio thoughts marking the end of the discussion for now. 

If nothing else, you gotta see the photo on the back of the album of the band in their pink suits with Lucaciu in the fountain.

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Liz Allbee - Breath Vessels (Ni Vu Ni Connu, 2025)

By Dan Sorrells

As I listened to the "speculative folk music" of Liz Allbee's latest solo album Breath Vessels, I found my thoughts being pulled from Allbee's futuristic framing—"an imagining of how collectivity might sound at some point ahead"—and towards Donna Haraway's notion of "staying with the trouble." In a book bearing that title, Haraway makes it clear that to stay with the trouble means forging kinship with all manner of things and beings that share in an ongoing "thick present." As "mortal critters," we are all "entwined in myriad unfinished configurations of places, times, matters, meanings."

This sort of entwinement feels central to Allbee's project on Breath Vessels, where she's quick to point out she's not using "folk" in a nostalgic sense. Rather, she aims for a music that can encompass the complex and often contradictory aspects of being an embodied thing in a world that seems to be splintering, where we are as caught in the tangles of looming environmental destruction and abounding alienation as we are in virtual seas of information and cascades of competing realities. Increasingly held apart by webs that nevertheless bind us tightly together. Breath Vessels isn't a post-apocalyptic soundtrack, but there's more than a little science fiction in this music cobbled together from the pieces of our fragmenting world. It's music that pretends to be from an uncertain future, but can't help being thickly present. A bricolage of bodily, digital, and emotional resonances, it seeks to remind us to feel the deep vibrations running through all those strands that connect us.

Those vibrations are the heart of the four pieces on Breath Vessels, which are crafted from self-built instruments, tuning forks, sine waves and Allbee's vocals. Nowhere is Allbee's trumpet found, and the pieces here are not improvised in execution. Still, Allbee's improvisatory spirit is within them, surely in the genesis of the compositions and expressly in the methods of building her "breath vessels," which repurpose glass jugs and jars and parts from "old instruments on eBay, flea markets, metal supply stores, [and] garden centers" to create protean instruments that hum and wheeze and reverberate powerfully, if at times imperfectly.

The long opener "Elegy for the Lost at Sea" is an accumulating mass of deeply resonant foghorn drones that sound not only like an elegy but maybe also a warning for those who follow. But as the tones slowly begin to layer, an amniotic warmth seeps in. Every manner of vibrating physical body is buried in these low drones: woody bass clarinet, thrumming transformers, the slow draw of a bow across bass string, ancient throat singing, a mother’s voice in utero. Soon, higher tones and garbled voices emerge in the interstices between bassy breaths, a peculiar lifeform stirring into existence. As the piece nears its end, the drones are reduced to the sounds of respiration, like the slow breathing of the strange new form of life.

The B-side features three very different shorter pieces. On "Pigeons" a disorienting moiré drone grounds higher accordion-like pitches that converge and diverge in consonance and dissonance. A spoken word vignette begins: "I see a woman walking, furtive, through the street. The day is blinding, brilliant." "Glottal Stops" is percolating, percussive, again shot through with a panning submarine drone. As with many things on this album, it's hard to know what is organic, what is electronic, what is one imitating the other. "Solitary Flocks" reprises the narrative thread of "Pigeons," the words now sung over a shifting reedy gradient and a pulsing beat. Eventually the lyrics morph and it's no longer just the woman walking furtively but all of us—everyone lost in their own thoughts, seized by their own concerns, slyly slipping by everyone else in the bright sunny day. Caught up in the trouble, if not yet staying with it.

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Peter Evans & Mike Pride - A Window, Basically (Relative Pitch, 2025)

By Charlie Watkins

A Window, Basically is the newest release from the unstoppable Peter Evans, this time in a duo with drummer Mike Pride. Evans and Pride played together previously in the trio Pulverise the Sound with Tim Dahl on bass, but on this record they move away from their punk jazz adventures in a more decidedly free jazz direction, in an entirely improvised session.

I will admit upfront that I’m not the biggest fan of drum duos. Especially in the free jazz idiom, where there is still a division between ‘frontline’ and ‘rhythm section’, I feel that the music would almost always be improved with the addition of another player to generate more resistance, momentum and textural possibility. Otherwise, the drums are cursed to assume the role of ‘accompaniment’ whilst the other instrument is the ‘soloist. Much of this recording seems to succumb to this trap: however good the connection between the two players is, I can’t help but feel that Pride is there to support Evans’ complex improvisations.

But on the third track on the album, 'Substance Z,' my ears perked up. Here we start to see the less virtuosic and more creative side of the two musicians, making use of noise, subtler dynamics and an autoharp – a welcome addition after a general lack of textural variation up to this point. The track is the longest on the album, but has a clearer structure that allows it to show the potential of the format rather than draw attention to its limitations. Two thirds of the way through, they return to the free jazz madness of the first two tracks, but this time it is presented as a welcome change.

'Substance Q', which clocks in at a brief one minute sixteen, shows the potential of the drum duo format. Being so concise, they don’t have time to settle into a hierarchy of soloist-accompaniment, and the result is a perfectly focused ‘window’ on what they can achieve together. It still feels like jazz (in the best sense of the word), but with all the creative freedom of improvised music. Some more short tracks like this might have helped focus the album more.

'Substance P' finishes the album and was my favourite of the bunch. By putting their virtuosity to one side, Pride and Evans begin to blur into one another, and the result is a voyage of discovery: the scraping cymbals match the timbre of Evans’ ghostly piccolo trumpet, generating ethereal layers of sound which seem to come from more than just two musicians. The improvisation is slow-moving and tense, far more interested in the sonic possibilities than any demonstration of instrumental skill. I could have listened to much more of this.

My favourite tracks on the album were those which didn’t showcase technical ability and moved more in the direction of ‘improvised music’. This is not to deny the strong connection between the two players on the higher energy improvisations, jumping seamlessly between tempo and metre and locking in seamlessly with one another, which of course can be the joy of playing in a duo. Pride certainly shows himself to be a master drummer in the jazz idiom, and Evans’ knotty playing is as impressive as ever. But their musicianship is highlighted when they put this high level of technical ability to one side, and instead seek spaces of the unknown. That is what I would have liked to hear more of.

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Vasco Trilla & Luís Vicente - Ghost Strata (Cipsela, 2026)

By Stef Gijssels

Both trumpet-player Luis Vicente and percussionist Vasco Trilla expand the sonic horizons of their instruments, creating "ghost strata". In geological terms, "ghost strata" are the no longer present parts of rock formations that have been eroded or destroyed by nature or reshaped by humans. Their ghosts are still visible in the remaining rock surface, yet their former presence can only be imagined. The concept gives a deep feeling of relativity that even something as solid as rocks are just passing through, just a transitory element in the vastness of time. This paradox of presence and absence, of solidity and vulnerability also qualify the music of both musicians. 

Trilla’s percussion leans toward resonance and elongated tones, emphasizing sustain and subtle vibration, while Vicente’s trumpet sounds more mournful than ever—hovering gently around a central pitch, releasing fleeting yet vivid phrases that feel both immediate and timeless. Together, they shape soundscapes that are strange and enigmatic, at once unsettling and deeply alluring.

“Strata #3” stands out as my favourite track. It opens with clear, ringing tones that gradually dissolve into a wider, immersive drone, coloured by the horn’s strained, creaking textures.

"Strata #4" starts with a tribal flute, bringing to life some memories of times long gone, with again hard to fathom percussion, repetitive and unexpected, and ending with multiphonic muted sad trumpet. 

This music feels like the sonic counterpart to impressionist painting—an exploration of light and reflection in sound. Subtle tonal shifts, fleeting textures, and delicate details gather and dissolve, blending into something far larger than their individual parts. The result is immersive and elusive, difficult to define, far beyond language or comprehension, yet an incredibly rewarding listening experience. 

This is their thirteenth collaboration on record, and their third duo album. It is unique in its qualities and sound. 

Highly recommended. 

Listen and download from Bandcamp. 

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Evi Filippou: Sunday Interview

Photo by Willie Schumann

Berlin based vibraphonist Evi Filippou has been making waves in the European improvised music scene in recent years. Filippo began her studies in her hometown of Volos, Greece and moved to Berlin in 2011 to study classical percussion at the Hochschule für Musik Hanns Eisler. This year, she will be the Improvisor in Residence at the Moers Festival. While the festival itself takes place from the 22nd to 25th of May in Moers, the residency has already begun. 

 

We begin our occasional 12-Questions Sunday Interview series with a couple of extra questions about the residency:

 

Paul Acquaro: Can you tell me a bit about how you got involved with Moers?

 

Evi Filippou: The Improviser in Residence is a structure that exists since 19 years, the first Improviser in Residence was Angelika Niescer and since then a lot of very diverse and great musicians have been Improvisers in Moers. It's not something you can apply for, I think it is the artistic directors of the Moers Festival that do the search and decide. It came out of the blue and quite short term for German standards. It is a huge honor and privilege to do that this year. 

 

PA: What are your - at least for now - plans are as artist in residence?

EF: I am inviting a lot of artists that I like and admire, different styles and musical approaches, I'm hosting Listening Sessions in my living room open for everyone, I am involved in two education projects in schools and the music school, I am planning a Live Cinema event and some jam sessions.

PA: What other projects are you currently working on?

 

EF: My band inEvitable, we recorded an album in the summer featuring Tim Hagans and I'm working on that. I am also working restlessly on my duo project with Robert Lucaciu, our album Love at Last Sight is coming out March 13th with BMC Records and we are playing concerts around Europe all year. I am also working on some percussion and drum compositions for me and Marius Wankel, (WOBBLY) and using Moers as a place away from everything and everyone I know to get back into some deep practicing, reading and researching.

Now the 12 Questions:

1. What is your greatest joy in improvised music?
   
   The risk taking and the surrendering into the unknown. Flirting with Chaos and learning to love it has been so liberating.
   
   
2. What quality do you most admire in the musicians you perform with?
   
   That they are decent human beings, open, supportive and do what's best for the music. They don't need to convince anyone they can play , they are beyond this and they just make music. I also admire them for always wanting to do the best for the composition, the concept, the idea, they want to understand and develop. I try to only work with generous humans.
   
   
3. Which historical musician/composer do you admire the most?
   
   That's a tough one. I could name a few. Monk, Mary Lou Williams, Maria Grever would be my top 3 these days.
   
   
4. If you could resurrect a musician to perform with, who would it be?
   
   Geri Allen 
   
   
5. What would you still like to achieve musically in your life?
   
   I mean.. everything I manage! The more you learn the more there is to know and then you die I guess. So yeah lots of things I d still like to learn, create and play with.
   
   
6. Are you interested in popular music and - if yes - what music/artist do you particularly like?
   
   I am interested in good and honest music. I like Olivia Dean.
   
   
7. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?
   
   More patience, less heavy self criticism - it’s really a waste of time.
   
   
8. Which of your albums are you most proud of?
   
   I am proud of Love at last sight coming out this March. I loved the process, the preparation and what came out of all this.
   
   
9. Once an album of yours is released, do you still listen to it? And how often?
   
   I do! Depends. Some just once, some every couple of months.
   
   
10. Which album (from any musician) have you listened to the most in your life?
    
    Carrie and Lowell Sufjan Stevens - Telefone Noname.
    
    
11.  What are you listening to at the moment? 
    
    Ben Webster, David Virelles, Johny Guitar Watson and funeral xylophones from burkina faso. 
     
12. What artist outside music inspires you?
    
    Natalia Manta, Albert Camus, Milan Kundera, Maria Filippou, my best friend Aimilia Varanaki and every person that thinks things up and down and through and change their minds and then change them again and expand their consciousness and existence.
     
     

Evi Filippou on the Free Jazz Blog: 

• Jazzfest Berlin 2025 - Part 1
• The 18th Bezau Beatz Festival, Bezau, Austria, Aug. 7-10, 2025
• Moers Festival 2025 (Part 1)
• Sparks and Vision: Teis Semey Quintet / Evi Filippou & Robert Lucaciu
• Magnet Festival - Wiesbaden, Germany, May 12 - 14, 2023

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Pöschl, Dörner, Gordoa - Native Acts (Trouble in the East, 2026)

By Brian Earley

With Native Acts, a new recording by Sunk Pöschl on drums and percussion, Axel Dörner on trumpet and electronics, and Emilio Gordoa on vibraphone, percussion, and electronics, listeners find themselves, in the most unassuming and modest of conditions, in the middle of free jazz history.

While not on the tip of every experimental listener’s tongue, these musicians have played with damn near everyone. Don’t believe me? How about a short list of Peter Brötzmann, William Parker, Paul Lytton, Alexander von Schilppenbach, Evan Parker, Harri Sjörström, and Silke Eberhard. That’s the truncated list. Dörner himself has paired with Sven-Ake Johansson (the guy played on Machine Gunfor goodness sakes) and John Butcher so often these ensembles alone would fill out a resume.

While Gordoa hails from Mexico City, he spends a great chunk of his time on the Berlin music scene. The other two musicians, Dörner and Pöschl, originate from Cologne and Munich respectively, forming Germany as the nexus of their collective activity. The three men gathered in 2021 in Berlin for PANDA Platforma, itself an intrepid power for experimental arts, and recorded Native Acts for Trouble in the East Records, which released the music some four years later on February 5, 2026.

The simplest way to say it is that this is a really strong album. I found myself at times thinking there were four or five instrumentalists, at other times, only one (or none at all!). Silence, it seems, sits in as a fourth member of the group. The opening piece, simply titled “Part 1” (there are nine total works on this recording, all of which are pragmatically titled “Part 1,” Part 2,” etc…), opens with quiet vibes, then a trumpet altered by electronics, almost unobservably so, then one low volume cymbal, and one soft drum hit. And then, in what is characteristic of this album as a whole, a drop off into total silence. The trio plays for a mere twenty seconds before leaving the listeners with a solid seven seconds of silence.

This use of silence appears again and again. Try “Part 2,” for example, during which the electronics rumble with bass more felt in the stomach than heard in the ear, then a gathering of quiet thunder, thwacking percussion, the sound of chimes or vibes played close to the microphone and feedback like screeches arch over the piece. Then at the 5:46 mark, total silence.

Quiet works often bring to my mind the word restraint, but the musicians on this album never feel to me like they are holding each other back. Actually the playing is absolutely non-competitive. Sometimes the three instrumentalists play vertical lines beside each other, sometimes a single player assumes the lead while others play accompanying work in the background, as Gordoa does around the 8:50 moment in “Part 2.” And, just as Gordoa steps forward, he drifts quietly into the back again allowing Dörner’s trumpet to take center stage before he himself grows quiet as Pöschl’s drum work closes out the work. Communion and close attention allow all members to thrive in this music society.

This is not to suggest the recording is low on energy. Just listen, for instance, to the first first four or so minutes of “Part 7.” Silence quickly lurches into a topsy-turvy slapping of percussion that itself grows into Dörner’s trumpet whipping through the electronic air. The sound cuts in and out like there is something wrong with your speakers, and by 2:20 things are really cooking and the high energy is pushed forward, forward, forward by Pöschl. Gordoa’s vibes soon assume a leadership role again until at 3:30 Dörner’s trumpet holds a single long note with an electric soup of sound beneath.

Close attention to the music really pays off on Native Acts , and despite this being a trio recording roughly 80 minutes long, it feels so varied, awake, inventive and nuanced. I really enjoyed becoming familiar with this album, and encourage all sound travellers to check it out for themselves.

Native Acts can be found at: https://troubleintheeastrecords.bandcamp.com/album/native-acts. 

 

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Billy Martin, Matt Glassmeyer, Jonathan Goldberger - State Fête (Adhyâropa Records, 2026)

By Hrayr Attarian

Perhaps the biggest challenge collaborative bands face is spontaneously creating music without sounding discordant. The trio of percussionist Billy Martin, keyboardist Matt Glassmeyer, and guitarist Jonathan Goldberger overcomes this with elegant ease. Their release State Fête is a captivating, multilayered work that puts sublime camaraderie front and center. Anticipating one another and interweaving their independent instrumental voices, the three artists paint seven cinematic soundscapes that are both vibrant and ethereal.

For instance, “Anemone” opens with sparse chiming and tolling notes, setting a somber mood. Godlberger’s blistering and angular chords bounce off Glassmeyer’s expectant refrains and Martin’s darkly resonant beats for a dramatic effect. Slowly, the delightful, dissonant repartee coalesces into a moving, melodic group improvisation. The ambience remains tense as Goldberger’s eloquent phrases punctuate the otherworldly backdrop created by Glassmeyer and Martin. The pulsating piece, with its percolating percussion and mesmerizing vamps, hints at Eastern Zen quietude.

This type of mysticism permeates the entire album regardless of the motif. “Queen Substance,” for instance, has more of an Afrocuban cadence with a futurist vibe. Groaning reverberations and rustling shakers buoy the sparse guitar tones. Goldberger then launches into a bluesy melody while Glassmeyer responds with wistful musings, playing his own invention: a reedless saxophone that sounds like a melodica. The meditative dialogue is taut and energetic, with Martin propelling the tune forward with his thundering polyrhythms.

Elsewhere, “Jan Hooks” opens with a Levantine theme, with Glassmeyer’s plaintive lines blending with Goldberger’s simmering strums, creating a lyrical melody. Martin’s alternating sharp, crisp thrums and the sonorous thumps give the track its Middle Eastern rhythm. Glaassmeyer continues to coax out of his reedless saxophone a warm and languid solo. As the performance evolves, it becomes more like a serene nocturne, further enhancing its poetic feel.

State Fête is a brilliant record, both stimulating and emotive. It deftly blends various influences into a dynamic and engaging album that showcases not only the individual musician’s originality but also the ensemble inventiveness of this seamless partnership.

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John Butcher / Ute Wassermann / Martin Blume - Leaflight: Close Calls (FMR, 2025)

By Martin Schray

Over the last two years I have hardly listened to another artist as much as John Butcher (okay, except for Dave Rempis). No wonder, since the 71-year-old saxophonist sets an almost relentless pace when it comes to his releases, with ten in 2025 alone and another CD already scheduled for 2026. One could actually just listen to his music and be quite busy with that. One of his latest projects is a trio with vocal artist Ute Wassermann and drummer Martin Blume - an unusual lineup, but then again, what about John Butcher’s projects is usual? Wassermann studied fine arts at the University of Fine Arts in Hamburg and also completed classical voice training. Her work combines composition, improvisation, sound, and performance art. Blume has been one of the most important drummers in improvisational music for around 40 years. Through the use of numerous objects, including those not typically associated with music, he constantly expands the sound, distinguished by his pronounced quasi-compositional sensitivity. The musicians’ openness to all possible soundscapes naturally provides excellent conditions for interesting music.

What is immediately striking Leaflight: Close Callsis the incredible range of Wassermann’s voice, which at first is not necessarily recognizable as such. It oscillates between a second saxophone, bird whistles, wind noises, a singing saw, a synthesizer, or even a plectrum running along the strings of a guitar. This makes the music seem powerful and exciting, but also mature and well thought-out. Martin Blume contributes to the improvisation as an equal solo partner, his drumming carrying the other two on his hands as if he was a magician. Of course, this all sounds more like new classical music, especially when Wassermann’s voice is clearly recognizable as such at the end of the first piece. But who cares about categories or genres, if everything is so wonderfully refined and elegant, but completely delicate and restrained. Especially “Call 2”, the longest piece, is a perfect example of this.

Most of all, the backbone of this album is Butcher’s saxophone playing. In “Call 8” it also presents itself as powerful and earthy, though not loud at all, testing the limits of hearing as so often (even more clearly in combination Wassermann’s voice), but there is an undeniable emotional depth and sheer beauty in his playing that goes beyond technique and concept. He is therefore often compared to Evan Parker, and not without reason. Like Parker, he has revolutionized saxophone playing with his sonic explorations in solo recordings, but also in other formations. Butcher’s music is always connected to the space around it (here the LOFT in Cologne). In the case of Leaflight: Close Calls, the music has almost esoteric, even psychedelic moments. It floats through the room and carries you away without the listener noticing. A truly wonderful recording.

Leaflight: Close Calls is available as a CD and as a download. You can buy and listen to it on Martin Blume’s Bandcamp site:

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Cecil Taylor New Unit – Words and Music the last bandstand (Fundacja Sluchaj, 2026) *****

By Paul Acquaro

I recall the night of April 23, 2016 fairly well. I was seated towards the right side, somewhat towards the back, of the seats that had been set up in the big open space of the new Whitney Museum. I recall the set-up facing east-ward, towards Brooklyn, though the liner notes mention overlooking the Hudson River. Regardless, it had been only a few days before that I saw an announcement on Facebook that a performance by Cecil Taylor had been added to the series accompanying the exhibition showcasing his life's work. Wow. I had been waiting for a good time to go to the museum and this seemed to be it. Lucky too, it also turned out to be the last time that Taylor would play a public concert. 

Just before the show was to begin, I did a drive-by of the display cases of Cecil Taylor's work in the exhibit. I found his graphic notations absorbing and was properly in awe of the legendary FMP box set on display. As to the concert, I was not sure what to expect, but that was secondary. Any chance to see this legend of free-jazz was enough, and I certainly didn't expect such a show of energy and intensity from the frail 87-year-old pianist.

The show began, as the listener can experience here, with a few deliberate notes from Taylor at the piano. As the ideas begin forming, tones from Okkyung Lee's cello begin shadowing the painist's twisting melodic phrases. Jackson Krall's drum rolls started coming with increasing frequency as Harri Sjöström, who had worked with Taylor in the 90s and was instrumental in organizing this appearance, added colorful motion to the growing music, his playing intertwining seamlessly with the cello. Taylor's long-time collaborator Tony Oxley, who was unable to play drums at this point, adds electronic adornments to the music. Within minutes, the group seems to gave gelled into the titular "new unit."  

The music is energetic and simply flowing. That this was the first appearance of this quartet -- and one that was pretty much spontaneously assembled just prior to the concert's start -- is almost unbelievable. Cohesive, responsive and flowing, the quartet hit all the right notes. At about 35-minutes into the spirited set, Taylor rose from the piano bench and began to speak. Sounding a bit like late period William Boroughs, Taylor's thin, lightly warbling voice began discussing something between science, history and philosophy. I recall trying to make sense of the sentences but losing the thread as soon as I thought I had grabbed a piece of it. Silly me, this too was sound, words like melodic snippets and chordal fragments. Taylor was not playing alone, the group was underscoring, accentuating and reacting like when deep into recitation, Taylor suddenly starts to mimic the trilling saxophone, playing not just with the sounds of the words but with the sounds of the big open hall. The words last almost 45-minutes and end in an explosion of applause.  

Taylor is in very good form on the recording, and apparently was not considering this to be a final performance either, however he passed away in 2018 without having given another one. So, Words and Music the last bandstand, released on the prolific Fundacja Sluchaj label from Warsaw, is the grand master's final artistic statement and it is a satisfying coda to a remarkable career. Luckily preserved, even if it was not recorded perfectly, the label has done a wonderful job in making it quite presentable. Hell, it gets five stars just because it exists - but it does muich more than that.

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Three from Confront Recordings

By Kenneth Blanchard

Stuart Wilding / Mike Adcock – Apophony (Confront Recordings 2025)

One of the joys of Bandcamp (may its name be praised!) is that I get notices for new recordings almost every day. This week three new releases were brought to my attention. Taken together, they provide a good sample of the audio appetites that set our writers and readers apart from other jazz fans.

The title Apophony is a term indicating a change in the pronunciation of a vowel that carries some grammatical information. For example: blood, bleed, and bled. It also produces a nice resonance in English with epiphany, which my spell checker was more comfortable with.

One of the most significant indicators of free jazz is that the texture of sounds is as important, if not more so, than the narrative or emotional content of a recording. It’s a pretty good bet that if the list of instruments includes table tennis balls, Villahe hall parquet floor (Wilding) or “tuned roof slates” (Adcock), texture and percussive expressionism is going to be a major focus. That the former also plays drums and the latter piano means that the artists have not completely severed their ties to more traditional composition.

The title cut marries high pitched bell-like sounds (think of Christmas ornaments being poured into a soft bag) to mostly low-pitched, evocative notes from the keyboard. “Pipes for Paul” wraps a silky, tubular sound around electronic, almost space-jazz vibes. You have to love song titles like “Doublefish,” and “Reverse Antelope,” which begins with an angelic sound followed by bird chirps.

Dominic Lash / Mark Wastell – Polyvalent Creativity (Confront Recordings 2025)

This recording is more conventional only because the instruments are limited to electric guitar (Lash) and drums, percussion (Wastell). The opening cut, “potential” sound like the artists started tuning up and never got around to playing anything else. The sound is so rich that you will be perfectly happy with that, if genuine free jazz is your thing.

The subtitles of the five cuts (e.g., “2. commitment, 3. activation, and 4. Fulfilment”) appear to be references to Coltrane’s A Love Supreme. I need to listen to this several more times to see if it holds.

Steve Beresford / Pierpaolo Martino / Mark Sanders– Be S-Mart (Confront Recordings 2025) 

All three of these releases are worth the investment in time that they invite. By far my favorite is the last. Beresford (prepared piano, electronics, objects) Martino (double bass, electronics) and Sanders (drums). Unlike the Apophony and Polyvalent Creativity, there is a definite, if mostly one-dimensional melody. Be S-Mart consists of two parts (Dark Materials, 1 and 2). It is a high-energy expedition into a land populated with lots of unfamiliar but unmistakenly organic voices. I found myself wanting to look up to see what was perched in the branches of the next alien tree. If this is a fair sample of Confront Recordings catalog, it would pay to keep an eye on that enterprise. 

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