Herb Robertson (1951 – 2024)

Photo by Peter Gannushkin

 

By Martin Schray

“Once I start improvising I just can't think about other things,” Herb Robertson once said in an All About Jazz interview. “Improvisation, to me, that’s what exists: when I'm improvising, it's music.” Rarely has anyone summed up the essence of improvised music so succinctly. Now, sadly, the outstanding trumpeter Herb Robertson has passed away. The downtown scene in New York in the 1990s in particular would have been unthinkable without him.

Robertson was born in New Jersey in 1951 and began playing the trumpet at an early age. His high school music teacher introduced him to the music of Miles Davis and other great modern jazz trumpeters and Robertson was immediately infected by their music. As part of his early passion for jazz, he dug into the history of jazz and studied everything from Louis Armstrong to the avant-garde of the time. After high school, during the years from 1969 to 73, he attended the Berklee College of Music in Boston as an instrumental performance major, a period in which his improvisational skills became highly developed. He then went to Canada, where he was the leader of various jazz and jazz-rock formations. But there were also early setbacks: in 1975, Herb Robertson had to interrupt his musical career because he had to take a break due to the constant loudness in the various venues. As a result, he also changed his style and turned to more lyrical and sound-exploring music. In the late 1970s, during sessions with Ed Schuller's groups, he met alto saxophonist Tim Berne, a musical soulmate. His groups in the 1980s brought him to the attention of a wider audience. His lyricism, tonal distortions and use of mutes looked back to jazz's past, while his freer improvising was quite futuristic, which was an excellent match for Berne’s music and his emotional playing. During this time he also met Mark Helias, with whom he was also musically connected for a very long time. “I still love to swing. That is deep inside so I like to go back and forth. I like to play through. I like to play lines. I like to play lyrical, melodic lines on the trumpet,” Robertson said in an interview with Fred Jung, and that sums up his style perfectly. The trumpeter recorded his initial leader album in 1985, and has since appeared on over 100 recording projects. As a leader he began putting together his own adventurous bands in 1986 and has recorded for the JMT, Splasc(h), Clean Feed, Leo, Nottwo, CIMP and Cadence labels.

Of these more than 100 recordings, I would like to recommend a few particularly outstanding ones. First and foremost his quintet recording Transparency (JMT, 1985) with a true all-star line-up: Tim Berne (saxophone), Bill Frisell (guitar), Lindsey Horner (bass) and Joey Baron (drums). His first recorded album, Mutant Variations (Soul Note, 1983) with Ed Schuller (bass), Berne again on saxophone and Paul Motian on drums. The album shows what an enormous talent Robertson was and is an early proof of his lifelong attachment to European labels. The same applies to Split Image (Enja, 1985) with Mark Helias (bass), Tim Berne (sex), Dewey Redman (sax) and Gerry Hemingway. He also had a long friendship with bassist Joe Fonda, recorded on From the Source (Konnex, 1997) with Fonda, Anthony Braxton (saxophone), Grisha Alexiev (drums), Brenda Bufalino (tap dance) and Vicki Dodd (vocals). Of his latest recordings, Plain (Clean Feed, 2020) is worth mentioning, with Simon Nabatov (piano), Chris Speed (saxophone), John Hébert (bass) and Tom Rainey (drums).

Tim Berne said about Robertson: “Herb was my mentor and musical sidekick for many years in the 80's and 90's. Every night was like a feature film full of astounding moments of beautifully inspired insanity. (...) He was really one of the few “true“ improvisors.“ May he rest in peace.

Watch Robertson with Tim Berne, Tom Rainey (drums) and Gregg Belilse-Chi (guitar):

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Andy Moor & Marta Warelis - Escape (Relative Pitch, 2024)

By Ferruccio Martinotti

Marta Warelis galore. Let’s put it in this way, following the stream of the recent double review, courtesy of Stef Gijssels. Pianist, one of the aces of the uncompromised Amsterdam improv scene, member of Stichting Doek, Marta’s ongoing experimentation and research path drove her to team up with the likes of Ken Vandermark, Dave Douglas, Eric Boeren, Michael Moore, Mike Reed, Hupata!, Omawi, PolyBand, Edge Ensemble, Carlos Zingaro, Helena Espvall, Marcelo dos Reis. The subject matter of the review you’re reading is a project that sees Andy Moor as her partner in crime. Londoner, relocated for many years in Amsterdam, founding member of Dog Faced Hermans and Kletka Red but, above all, full time member of timeless legend The Ex, one of the last remaining certainties around. Guitarist, photographer and composer, he collaborated with Anne-James Chaton, Alva Noto, Thurston Moore, DJ Rupture, John Butcher, Thermal and Lean Left, the astonishing super combo with Ken Vandermark, Terry Ex, Paal Nilssen-Love. Recorded at Zaal 100, Amsterdam, June 28 2022, Escape sounds as the perfect blast ignited by the different influences and backgrounds of the two artists: anarcho-punk, free jazz, avantgarde, improv, unleashing seven grenades of sheer sonic pleasure. Being both the performers totally devoted to their instruments in a physical manner (is still vivid in our memory, the way Warelis was playing the interior strings of the piano…), the result is an ongoing, breakneck downhill, not monocromathic but rather offering a prismic, multicolored palette of sound. From Cecil Taylor-esque bad acid trip (Apocalyptic TV) to noisy atonal strumming (Commitment Keys, Highway Trajectory); from intimacy (Incunabula) and quieter mood (Thaw Bush) to mesmerizing, labirynthine treks (Maintenance Cabbage) and sinister, doom atmospheres (Imbue). Everything as the beautiful, umpteenth evidence that improv ain’t anybody’s playground.

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Carlos Bica - 11:11 (Clean Feed, 2024)

By João Esteves da Silva

Well into his sixties, Portuguese composer-bassist Carlos Bica has been on a roll lately, releasing a string of albums that are likely to cement his legacy as one of today’s foremost European creative musicians. Remarkably, after leading the already legendary Azul trio for over two decades, Bica was able to totally reinvent himself with two of his most adventurous projects to date: the I Am the Escaped One (2019) trio and its no less intriguing Playing with Beethoven (2023) quartet extension, both of which featured strikingly original, unclassifiable music, notable for some largely unheard-of timbral combinations. More recently, he has assembled a new all Portuguese quartet, featuring three up-and-coming creative musicians about thirty years younger - alto saxophonist José Soares, vibraphonist Eduardo Cardinho and guitarist Gonçalo Neto. After the aforementioned couple of albums, its debut, 11:11, may feel like going back to basics. And yet it is another distinctive chapter in Bica’s trajectory: more than a reinvention, a renewal, perhaps, and a most fruitful one.

Exquisitely crafted on all levels, you can tell this is a Bica album straight away: a true artist, like few, he is able to leave his own personal imprint on everything he puts out. Here, he has been able to conjure up a world that is at once (profoundly) lyrical - somewhere in between minimalism and romanticism, with something of a pop-like sensibility as well - and (subtly) experimental, and, above all, where every single note - actually, every single sound (and silence) - matters. A world to which his young partners, while remaining fully themselves, seem thoroughly attuned. (In fact, far from mere interpreters of Bica’s directives, they actively contribute to shape it.)

Soares is both technically flawless - notice, for instance, his remarkable tonal control, as he alternates between rougher and cleaner approaches depending on what the occasion demands - and scrupulously tasteful, his expositions being as compelling as his soloing. In contrast with his usually more expansive playing, Cardinho here plays a primarily coloristic role, with extraordinary restraint, decisively adding to the group’s unique sound. And Bica seems to be have found a true soulmate in Neto: not only is his kind of post-Frisell approach ideally suited to Bica’s soundworld, namely to its more folkish strands, he really does seem to have a special affinity for his broader compositional vision, even contributing with a couple of tunes of his own, which sit nicely alongside the rest. (In addition, there’s also a lovely piece by composer-pianist Carsten Daerr.) As for Bica himself, he appears to be playing as well as ever, with his typically glorious bass tone (truly one of the finest around, either when plucking or bowing), as pensive as it is expressive.

Nobody here forces anything, and nobody ever hurries. Everyone listens deeply and lets the music float effortlessly, displaying an altogether rare patience and sensitivity. And although it does nonetheless have its climaxes, such music doesn’t knock one out, but slowly takes one in, until one is totally hooked and has no choice but to let oneself go and float alongside it, too. All in all, deceptively simple tunes, haunting atmospheres and nuanced interplay make up for a statement of timeless beauty.

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Robert Dick and Stephan Haluska – Crop Circles (Infrequent Seams, 2024)

By Nick Ostrum

Crop Circles captures Robert Dick and Stephan Haluska in a flute, harp, various small instruments and vocal duo. At its core, though, Crop Circles is a harp-flute duo, a rarity in almost any music, including the contemporary avant-garde.

From the beginning, it is entrancing. Both Dick (primarily flute) and Haluska (primarily harp) play their instruments in nonidiomatic ways, eliciting a range of noises through creative techniques that run from Dick mimicking the cluck of a saxophone to Haluska eliciting loose, tinny vibrations that suggest anything but the classical harp. Both musicians seem to derive special satisfaction in the minutiae and textures: soft clicks and scrapes, or periodic sharp huffs (and whatever the harp-equivalent of that breathy sound would be.) Of course, Dick and Haluska can hold their own making more standard music, as well. That comes through well enough at various points, but it is never the primary goal, here. Rather, Crop Circles is somewhat brazen in its deceptively crude fusion of the strange and mundane. Sometimes, it touches on something almost primeval (in the deeply, darkly human sense), as in the extended vocals chant on Owls Angry Over Jumping Jacks. Other times, it seems intent on deconstructing and thoroughly demystifying tradition, as in Narcissism Meets Necessity, which layers clattery improv with periodic screams, duck sounds, a mouth harp and a phlegmy back-throated hack. It takes something elevated – the combination of flute and harp, expertly finessed free music, ethereal-minded experimental music - and brings it back to our imperfect, pock-marked, craggy, polluted, and, for all that (except the pollution), lovely earth.

Since picking this album up at the beginning of the year, it took me about ten-months until I gave ita first serious listen. I am glad I finally did. Crop Circles is available as a cassette or download from Bandcamp:

 

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Avishai Cohen - Ashes To Gold (ECM, 2024)

By Don Phipps

Avishai Cohen’s Ashes to Gold is a collection of sensitive, carefully crafted tone poems - tone poems which, even though created during a time of war, encompass heroic and soaring passages of great beauty. There is no anger - only melancholy, no regret - only resignation. This, and pastoral note clusters that rise and swoop like an eagle above a distant mountain peak.

Cohen says in the liner notes that he composed his five-movement title cut after October 7. He says, “…by this point (the composition was being written) in the full craziness of wartime. With rockets flying over my head, alarms and sirens going off, and so on. Did all of this affect the music? How could it not?”

On the album, Cohen (trumpet, flugelhorn, flute) is joined by Barak Mori (bass), Ziv Ravitz (drums), and Yonathan Avishai (piano). In addition to Cohen’s opus, the quartet “covers” Ravel’s “Adagio Assai,” a fascinating choice, and a piece by Cohen’s daughter, Amalia - “The Seventh.”

On the first number, the band offers gently uplifting, sympathetic lines in keeping with the mood of the music. For example, Mori’s deep bass bowing is notable. Check out his work at the end of “Part I” of the title cut, where the bass drone is dark and sonorous, or his effort beneath Cohen’s start on “Part II.” And his bass plucking to open “Part III” recalls Charlie Haden at his most intimate.

Whether Cohen is on flute or horn, his playing has a lovely pure forthright tone, even when creating almost bugle-like phrases (as in the middle of “Part I”). Cohen demonstrates his chops on many of the compositions – his ability to use his horn to slide up and down assertively or to howl without pinching the tone is remarkable. But it is the beauty of his expression that truly stands out. Listen to his flugelhorn playing on “Part III,” or his opening on the “Adagio Assai,” which is simultaneously sad and gentle (Note: this work is the second movement of Ravel’s Piano Concerto in G major, written in 1929-31 during the interlude between the World Wars). And on “Part V,” the first of two masterpieces on this album, you can hear the way his trumpet can reach out and in. On the other album masterpiece, “The Seventh,” Cohen’s flugelhorn lines suggest a graceful swan descending slowly over an undulating sunlit lake.

On piano, Avishai’s agile touch and expressive lines can change with sudden ferocity, but more often his phrases add subtle pastels of feeling to the scores. Check out his entry on “Part IV” to see how his bluesy impressionism adds to the brief movement. Or his wandering start on “Part 5,” with its repetitive series that suggests snow coming down in a light breeze, covering an open field in a drifting natural white blanket.

Ravitz generally confines himself to affect. His understated playing can be heard on “Part II” towards the end, where his bass drum and soft taps undergird the solemn mood of the number. There are times when his drumming sounds like a distant march (as midway in “Part I”). And one can hear how he incrementally integrates percussive effects into the mix of “Part V.”

Perhaps today the world needs albums like Ashes To Gold to reorient and redirect its efforts toward peaceful resolution. If so, this is certainly a welcome addition. Perhaps it is a reflection of what might be or could be – and sadly - not what is.

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Sylvain Darrifourcq - Sunday Interview

Photo by: Sylvain Gripoix

1.  What is your greatest joy in improvised music?
   
   I believe the most exciting moment in improvisation happens in those rare instances of balance when all the musicians contribute to shaping a piece. It’s an incredible feeling, but to be honest, it’s very rare! This is why I am now committed to finding a balance between constraints and improvisation. I think, in fact, that freedom is nothing more than a way of choosing one’s own constraints.
   
   
2. What quality do you most admire in the musicians you perform with?
   
   I’d be hard-pressed to rank these qualities. There are too many, and they’re very diverse. For example, I greatly admire musicians who are able to make their colleagues sound good. It’s a quality that’s especially valuable because it often goes unnoticed by the audience. I also love working with musicians who are able to organize other people’s ideas—a quality that’s also invisible since it’s part of the process of composing or shaping the form.
   
   
3. Which historical musician/composer do you admire the most? If you could resurrect a musician to perform with, who would it be?
   
   As before, I can’t answer this question simply, because as we grow, our expectations change, and we don’t admire the same things at 20 as we do at 45. But I must say that the work of John Coltrane (for his ability to delve ever deeper into a concept), György Ligeti (for opening up new ways for me to explore rhythmic combinations), and Hector Berlioz (for his romantic personality, or at least what history has retained of it) have all played a major role in my development.
   
   
4. What would you still like to achieve musically in your life?
   
   What I would be most proud of is to stop before I make too much uninteresting music (at least in my eyes). I’ve chosen to focus on musical research, and I believe it’s possible to reach the end of what one can contribute to research, and that it’s important to know when to stop. I hope to have enough clarity to do so.
   
   
5. Are you interested in popular music and, if yes, what music/artist do you particularly like?
   
   Of course! It’s actually what I listen to the most. For several years now, I’ve been a huge fan of the hip-hop/noise band Clipping. I never get tired of them! I still listen often to albums by Fantômas and Meshuggah, each of which I love for very different reasons. And then, for the same reasons I hated it when I was 20—that particular sound of drum machines and the DX7—I am now a big fan of cold wave. I’m rediscovering albums by Tears for Fears, Genesis, Heaven 17...
   
   
6. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?
   
   I would like to be more sociable and tolerant of others. I love interacting with people, whoever they are, sharing worldviews, listening to other people’s stories, but my social energy tank is very limited, and I often need to be alone to recharge.
   
   
7. Which of your albums are you most proud of?
   
   I think the two albums I would keep from my discography are Stretchin with MILESDAVISQUINTETORCHESTRA! and Coitus Interruptus by In Love With, because they are representative and complementary to my vision of musical time. The first is focused on infinite repetition and the sensation of elastic time with neither beginning nor end, and it represents my work on horizontality. The second album adds complexity to this approach by inserting sudden breaks into these infinite temporalities, a more vertical logic of handling musical time.
   
   
8. Once an album of yours is released, do you still listen to it? And how often?
   
   It can happen, but there have also been times when I didn’t even listen to one of my albums in full. It all depends on where I am in my musical thinking and how an album does or doesn’t align with these reflections. I have to admit I would gladly throw out a good number of the albums I’ve produced in my life. Listening to my own albums was something I perhaps did more when I was younger, when my ideas weren’t as clear, and I could still surprise myself.
   
   
9. Which album (from any musician) have you listened to the most in your life?
   
   There are albums I’ve been listening to for over 20 or 25 years! I think Live at the Village Vanguard by Coltrane, Tosca by Puccini (the version with Maria Callas and Giuseppe di Stefano), and both Rage Against the Machine albums are among those I’ve worn out over time.
   
   
10. What are you listening to at the moment?
    
    For the past few weeks, I’ve been obsessively listening to liturgical music. In particular, the requiems of Gabriel Fauré, Maurice Duruflé, and the Stabat Mater by Francis Poulenc.
    
    
11. What artist outside music inspires you?
    
    There are too many! The visual artist Zimoun, choreographers Anne Teresa de Keersmaeker and Tomeo Verges, and video artist Bill Viola are among them. Each has a very unique relationship with time and rhythm that, in one way or another, has influenced my own research.
    
    

Sylvain Darrifourcq on the Free Jazz Blog:

• Jazzfest Berlin 2024 - Part I
• Jean-Brice Godet - Lignes De Crêtes (Clean Feed, 2017) ***½
• Eve Risser White Desert Orchestra - Les Deux Versants Se Regardent (Clean Feed, 2016) *****
• Xavier Camarasa, Valentin Ceccaldi & Sylvain Darrifourq - Shapin' With Milesdavisquintet (Becoq, 2015) ****
• Emile Parisien Quartet – Chien Guêpe (Laborie Jazz, 2012) ****½

 

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Ivo Perelman’s Sao Paulo Creative 4 - Supernova (s/r, 2024)

By Sammy Stein

 Ivo Perelman’s Sao Paulo Creative 4 comprises Perelman on tenor sax, Livio Tragtenberg on bass clarinet and alto saxophone, Rogerio Costa on soprano and alto saxophone, and Manu Falleiros on soprano and baritone saxophone.

These four musicians come from varied backgrounds and training. Perelman’s classical, multi-instrumental beginnings, to his fixation on the tenor saxophone, his study at Berklee, his self-tutelage in different art forms, and his development of eclectic music that has seen him become one of today’s most powerful improvisers. Tragtenberg’s experience includes opera and orchestral projects alongside a career as an author, while Costa’s compositions for others have received praise, as have his recordings with Brazilian group Aquilo Del Nisso and his research projects. Falleiros’ experience includes participation in many musical projects, including festivals, and his role as a coordinator of projects researching the relationship between art and sound.

Each musician has an individual approach to playing and music interpretation. Put them all into a studio in Brazil and see what happens seemed to be Perelman’s idea. The result was something unique.

From the opening track, the differing musical influences and playing styles become apparent, yet, as the track develops there is a settling, engagement, and communication that draws the listener in. This album feels different from Perelman’s previous work – even Perelman seems different here as he responds to the different participants.

‘White Dwarf’ features fugal entries from the bass clarinet, and saxophones before the conversation begins in earnest with sections that vary in style like mini movements. There are sections of staccato chords, a searing altissimo rendition, and harmonics encompassing nearly six octaves. Raspy reeds combine with subtle, flowing melodic transitions to create a beautiful cohesion of sound that never loses its grounding.

In ‘Black Hole’ different harmonics are explored and extended phrasing loops around to unite the interspersed classical derived intonations, in some places sounding like the prelude to an oratorio work before the expected notation is changed and there is a reminder these are improvising musicians of the highest calibre as the music veers into exquisitely wayward deviations.’ ‘Planetary Nebula’ is intricate and quirky while in ‘Black Dwarf’ there is a sense of falling away, feeling ungrounded as the musicians reel down the scales and up again, creating true sound waves and ripples that meet, collide, then veer off into mini orbits while remaining connected to the main theme and chordal lines.

‘Blue Supergiant Star’ has a controlled energy with a slight sense of menace provided by the bass clarinet. The saxophones spin around the grounding throaty notes, the lines interlinking and entwining. ’Brown Dwarf’ is lighter, and features varied rhythms while the final track, ‘Dark Matter’ features off-kilter harmonics and powerful lines from each musician.

There is room for all four musicians to sparkle and shine on this recording – like stars they find their paths across a universe of sound, united by the journey each is on, relishing the chance to come together, at times colliding to produce the explosions and energy burst expected of the title. Even silences, like the short sudden dropping away on ‘Planetary Nebula,’ have meaning, and subtleties like the parping on ‘Black Dwarf’ provide a connection between the instruments when created around the prevailing theme.

Despite being improvised music, there is, as is usual in Perelman’s music, a connection between nearly every line, and the themes and musical ideas are rarely lost. What happens on Supernova is that the ideas are shared, listened to, and developed not as individuals but as a collective. It is this that provides the cohesion of this recording.

‘The Sao Paolo Creative 4 emits a spark, of musical creation in its purest state and that reaches us through powerful rhythmic and creative waves where our imagination is allowed to fly’ So say the PR notes developed by Tragtenberg and supplied with the music to reviewers and I would agree with this. I would also wonder how the simple act of breathing done by four musicians on instruments familiar to most, can create such diverse sounds.

Any theme with strong connectivity could have explained how the music and musicians are connected but Supernova is the perfect title because these are four musicians, each on separate journeys and different trajectories who come together through the force that is Perelman’s imagination and explode into life and a release of energy, noise, and colour – a music encounter of the Supernova kind.

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Matthias Spillman Trio inviting Bill McHenry - Walcheturm (Unit Records, 2024) *****

By Don Phipps

From bubbly happiness to penetrating anguish, the complex kaleidoscope of feeling generated by Matthias Spillman’s Walcheturm, Inviting Bill McHenry demands a hearing. In addition to originals and improvisations, the album covers three standards that harken back to modern jazz’s formative years – the 1954 Troup/Worth composition, “The Meaning of the Blues,” the 1961 Mingus ode to Charlie Parker, “Reincarnation Of a Lovebird,” and the wonderfully playful 1954 Monk tune, “Locomotive.”

Spillmann (trumpet, flugelhorn) is joined by trio members Moritz Baumgartner (drums) and Andreas Lang (bass), and they “invite” guest artist Bill McHenry (tenor sax) to play along. There are two masterpieces on this album. The Spillmann original “Moon,” a somber and introspective number that, in its bluesy arc, gives Spillmann the room to show just how ear-opening a sparse trumpet line can be. McHenry and Lang contribute to the effect, creating a slow-burn wallop, not unlike Ornette Coleman’s classic “Lonely Woman.” Listen to how the opening and closing trumpet/sax duet set and exit the stage perfectly.

The second masterpiece is the cover of “The Meaning of the Blues.” Here the band again plays sparingly. Baumgartner adds choice brushwork as Lang plays harmonic bass lines that blend underneath McHenry’s whimsical phrases. McHenry has a terrific way of bending a long note to convey emotion (think Dexter Gordon) and he always finds the perfect note, even though he never blows hard. Spillman solos on flugelhorn – providing a beautiful rejoinder that stirs the soul. To complete the showcase, Lang enters with a deeply resonant solo, highlighting the woodiness of the bass. It closes with Spillman playing below McHenry’s moving arc in a trumpet/sax duet.

“Walcheturm I” and “Walcheturm II” feel like spontaneous improvisations. “I” is hazy and introspective -almost lonely. Listen to Spillmann play off Baumgartner’s brush work and Lang’s bass wanderings to give just the right hint of melancholy. On “II,” Spillmann bites off high notes and follows with a soulful abstract exposition. As the piece develops, Baumgartner generates heat with all over drumming and bell work underneath Spillmann’s stimulating atmospherics.

Then there are the livelier tracks. The cover of “Reincarnation Of A Lovebird” is like a swirling dance – bright and bubbly with plenty of balloon-expanding, head-nodding gusto. On the spirited McHenry tune “Apretada,” the saxophonist offers modern full-throated syncopated voicings. Think Coltrane with twists. Monk’s “Locomotive” gives Lang a chance to show his bass skills beneath Spillmann’s and McHenry’s happy-go-lucky phrases, and he generates lovely overtones with his solid plucks of the strings. And “Linsabum” is another cheerful, jaunty composition, rumored to have been composed by Spillmann’s 7-year-old daughter Charlotte. Here too the rhythm section really shines, as Lang’s pure wood tone combines with Baumgartner’s choice brushwork to give the number a solidly cool vibe.

After repeated listenings to this album, one is struck by the variety of feeling evoked by the strong musical techniques and versatility of the players involved. Yet even so, the album numbers do not seem ill-placed or contradictory. That is what makes it magical - the album flows exquisitely even though the moods generated are diverse. Highly recommended.

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Matt Mitchell, Kim Cass, and Dan Weiss: Three Views of a Piano Trio

Matt Mitchell - Zealous Angles (Pi Recordings, 2024) *****

Kim Cass - Levs (Pi Recordings, 2024) ***** 

Dan Weiss - Even Odds (Cygnus Recordings, 2024) ***** 

By Lee Rice Epstein

Since 2021, we’ve seen three albums of previously unheard and little- or un-known music recorded by pianist Hasaan Ibn Ali. Mostly known (if at all) for a single piano trio album recorded under Max Roach’s name, Ibn Ali’s music fills a crucial gap in our understanding of the complex growth and development of the piano trio. In preparing to review these albums, I spent months revisiting dozens of trio recordings from Ibn Ali, Elmo Hope, Herbie Nichols, Bud Powell, Thelonious Monk, Chick Corea, Keith Jarrett, Marilyn Crispell, Aki Takase, Craig Taborn, Matthew Shipp, and a few key contemporary players like Jason Moran and David Virelles. It would be challenging enough to develop a new grand theory of the piano trio—and anyway, most of my time spent was luxuriating in the music, dazzled by technique and inventiveness. All this listening was, however, in service of finding an entry point into writing about pianist Matt Mitchell and the music of Mitchell, bassist Kim Cass, and drummer Dan Weiss, particularly following Matthew Shipp Trio's exceptional New Concepts In Piano Trio Jazz , whose title begs questions Mitchell, Kim Cass, and Dan Weiss seem, unknowingly, to have many responses to. 

In a year when he released a landmark solo album, the relative success of Illimitable could have carried Mitchell well into next year, and yet here he is with the recorded debut of his longtime trio with bassist Chris Tordini and Weiss on drums. Much of what’s been written about Zealous Angles has, admirably (at least, it’s well beyond my technical knowledge), focused on the technical complexity of the compositions—polyrhythm, polymeter, and asynchronicity abound within the written material —and yet, maybe because I’m a contrarian by nature, I wanted to spend time specifically listening to this music in the context of its mode. Piano trios are fascinating in some ways because they’re like prisms: three sides with a fixed shape and seemingly infinite ways of refracting and projecting the approach. Mitchell has constructed ways to do this within the music itself and put it on display for listeners by providing alternate takes under new names, wholly fresh performances of the same music with different intentions and results—a decent amount of music gets replayed and reinterpreted by the trio, and the recurrence of thematic material late in the album gives the impression of a framing device or linked motif in a song cycle.

On Cass’s phenomenal Levs, with Mitchell and drummer Tyshawn Sorey, the trio brings more to the proceedings than merely bass, piano, and drums. In addition to some augmentation by Laura Cocks on flute and Adam Dotson on euphonium—with parts added separately—Cass also plays sampler and Mitchell plays Prophet-6 (one of many follow-ups to the classic Prophet-5 keyboard). Cass’s music is crunchy, which is to say it crackles with energy and showcases these dance-like rhythms that stutter-step across the drums and keyboards. And Cass’s bass sounds deep and rich in the mix, even has he’s taking sharp, surprising pivots along the strings. Just the briefest sidebar about Sorey here, there just are very, very few artists like him, and the textured approach he brings to the kit is as varied on Levs as it is on his own piano trio album from this year, The Susceptible Now, an album that, on the surface, sounds very far from Cass’s, adding to the ongoing discussion of just how many ways can that format be presented. But Sorey, much like Mitchell, has always been a player that I suspect more people think they have figured out than actually have a grasp on what’s happening in the music—both can swing just as madly as they groove, and Cass gives them plenty of room for both and then some.

Weiss, who already fronts a piano trio with Jacob Sacks and Thomas Morgan, mixes things up for Even Odds, bringing in alto saxophonist Miguel Zenón alongside Mitchell on piano. Even Odds is ridiculously addictive from the jump, one of the finest examples of just how far a “piano trio” can stretch to encompass a group’s ideas. One of Weiss’s gifts as a composer is how brilliantly he builds up a song to both amplify and challenge his musicians’ gifts. There are fleet, brisk tracks drawn from and inspired by several of jazz’s hall of fame drummers—as much as he sounds incredible as always, what these tracks really highlight, though, is his deep love for the music’s history. Zenón absolutely shines on this album. With a restrained, sorrowful approach on “The Children of Uvalde,” he plays exactly what’s needed to bring home this American tragedy without tipping into bathos. It’s a delicate enough challenge for any ballad, but on something so charged and emotionally raw, Zenón brings clarity and honesty, mourning without being overly mournful. Again, it’s a tribute as well to Weiss’s compositional gifts, where song structures bend and merge with deftness. Mitchell sounds relaxed throughout, settling deep into the spaces between the drums and alto. It’s a delightful deception, any close listening reveals how knotty and varied the keyboard runs can be, followed by clustered chords and fragile jabs.

If Shipp gave us a new concept in piano jazz, which is to say his trio playing an entirely new and varied set of music, then Mitchell, Cass, and Weiss are surely following with their own equally new and varied sets of music—as different from one another as could be. And we can just celebrate, no matter what else is happening, that art will continue, will challenge, will progress.

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David Maranha & Rodrigo Amado - Wrecks (Nariz Entupido, 2024) *****

By Stef Gijssels

I'm not sure whether many duets between saxophone and organ have been performed before, but this album is an absolute must-hear, a ferocious dialogue between one of the leading saxophonists of today, Rodrigo Amado, and his fellow Portuguese David Maranha on electric organ. Amado no longer needs introduction, and we have written on Maranha twice during our long existence: he's apparently very active in elecroacoustic work and experimental music, with over twenty albums as a leader. 

The match on this album is perfect. Maranha creates an incredibly terrifying foundation for Amado's magisterial sax, for an unrelenting expressive noise and drone trip that lasts more than forty-four minutes without interruption, steady, massive, disconcering, gloomy. The organ's massive sound is scorching, grinding, searing, blazing like fire, burning like a blast furnace. It's industrial, violent without any melodies or harmonies, a never-ending stream of multiphonic noise and sonic terror. 

Above this, Amado's sax leads us to a multitude of human emotions, from tenderness, sadness and melancholy to absolute agony, misery and torment. He soothes, he sings, he laments, he howls, he screams. In contrast to the often horrifying organ, the sax contains at times some moments of hope, some aspirational sounds for something better than could grow out of the cesspit we find our world in. You can call this 'doom jazz' or 'dark jazz' or whatever description pleases you, the overall sound is still pretty unique. 

The albums is called "Wrecks" in reference to the text that accompanies the album about the sorry states of our world: the wars, the environment, extremist politics and inequality. 

"The wrecks of a decaying age were there to be seen either by the new gentrified glittering façades under the sunny daylight or, less cynically, under the over-glaring LEDs street lights by night".

If there's anything - even any art form - that can convey the state of our world, then it is music. It is this music: creative, impressive, relentless, deep, beautiful, impactful. It's a remarkable and unique feat by two musicians who found a very special common voice and project. 

Brilliant!

Listen and download from Bandcamp. 

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