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.
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.
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:
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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...
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Stellar spontaneous compositions are a hallmark for Ivo Perelman. And his
collaboration with drummer Tom Rainey on Duologues 1 Turning Point
is a perfect illustration. The improvs shift mood and explore feelings of
driving intensity or subtle repose. What astonishes most about Perelman is
the precision he brings to his sax playing – whether it is lightning runs,
sharp staccato tonguing, or slurs that slip and slide like an ocean-bound
eel. But more than any of this is his tone – a tone that recalls Ben
Webster – an abstract Ben Webster of course. No matter how avant garde the
note series, the tone is ever present, and like Webster’s, is full throated
and open with a special soulful throttle. This is especially noteworthy,
given Ivo’s style of passionate playing.
Like Perelman, Tom Rainey has long been a fixture on the new music scene.
His work with Tim Berne and Mark Helias is significant [check out his
drumming on Berne’s excellent Science Friction album (Screwgun
2002) or his trio work with Helias and Tony Malaby on Helias’s set of Open
Loose albums]. In 2022, Rainey worked with his wife, tenor saxophonist
Ingrid Laubrock, and guitarist Mary Halvorson on the wonderful
Combobulated.
And just this year, Rainey joined Perelman and Helias on Perelman’s
excellent Truth Seeker album.
Both Perelman and Rainey bring their A game to the studio. And what makes
this effort significant is the way the musicians play off each other, in
arcing conversations. Hear how Rainey’s colorful all over drumming –
measured and tasteful, yet at times, explosive (check out the ending of
Track 6) - offers a colorful background to Perelman’s superb sax lines –
lines that seem to stretch the saxophone register like a rope pulled taut
and then released.
Take “Track One,” which is full of shifts and turns. Like an automobile
skirting around corners, slowing suddenly, then revving back up to full
speed, the music probes, cajoles, and toward the end, explodes. Or “Track
Two,” Perelman’s bluesy wails mesh perfectly with Rainey’s loose toms,
snare, and cymbals.
Perhaps the album’s most intense tracks are “Track Six” and “Track Seven.”
On “6,” Perelman opens with a beautiful flurry atop Rainey’s action across
the trap set. Then he develops challenging sax explorations that run the
length of the saxophone keys. Rainey responds with a heated, funky,
head-nodding beat, an unusual yet precise rhythmic development, one that
incorporates all the drums and the high hat/cymbals. Check too his gentle
bass drum taps - just heavy enough to establish the rhythm without being
overbearing. As the number progresses, Rainey’s work become more
aggressive, then very free as all over drumming takes over. Perelman hits
the intensity bar as well, with waterfall runs that ultimately finish with
hard bites on the reed - taking the music to the stratosphere of high
notes.
On “Track Seven,” Rainey shows off his brush work, and Perelman slurs along
like a person might stagger down an alley after a hard night of drinking.
The piece evolves, with Perelman’s high wails -almost screeches - the
highlight, and Rainey leans in with his brushes on the toms and snare.
Listen to Rainey’s control of the bass drum beats while channeling energy
across the trap set – a crossing that includes dance taps on the cymbals,
snares, and toms, all the strokes extremely delicate and precise. Perelman’s
creative running motifs float like a butterfly and sting like a bee (my
apologies to Muhammad Ali), and as the piece ends, he hits a supreme high
note that extends outward to some unknown horizon.
Duologues 1 Turning Point is a conversation between two jazz
giants – the discussion at times playful, serious, penetrating, and full of
anxious energy. This musical discussion is open to all of us. Enjoy!
Federico Ughi feat, Leo Genovese and Brandon Lopez - Infinite cosmos
calling you you (577 Records, 2024)
52 years, from Rome, NYC based since 2000 after some years spent roaming
from London to Tangeri, Ughi engaged in a longtime and fruitful partnership with Pennsylvanian flutist Daniel Carter with whom he founded 577 Records.
This record, the first under his own name in 5 years, sees Federico teaming
up with the monster keyboardist Leo Genovese from Brooklyn and fellow New Yorker, upright bassist Brandon Lopez, to deliver some of the most intriguing
and challenging music we had the chance to listen to throughout the year.
Notes by the record company highlight the “connection between artists, music
and audience” where the musicians represent “conduits for the delivery of
cosmic sound, the music world, the cosmic dimension of sound and light”.
Easy to quote Sun Ra among the influences and not only because the last
song of the album took its title from the name of the mythological artist,
but if this can’t be denied, it’s definitely less mundane trying to label
and pigeonhole such doom, dissonant and dystopian sounds who often driving Scandinavian or Japanese free projects to take shape in our mind. Anyway,
the perfect soundtrack for this crooked and vile time.
Roberto Ottaviano, Danilo Gallo, Ferdinando Faraò - Lacy in the sky
with diamonds
The subject matter of the cover versions and the tribute albums is so fascinating, intricate and complex to deserve a Blog’s masterclass, here we simply tell about a champion and two standout musicians who decided to pay homage to the late great Steve Lacy on the occasion of the twentieth anniversary of his death. We’re talking about Roberto Ottaviano (soprano sax) the champion of the Trio, trained by Luigi Nono, Evan Parker and Jimmy Giuffre, professor at several music academies across the globe, collaborator of Chet Baker, Enrico Rava, Han Bennink, Mal Waldron and Keith Tippet; Danilo Gallo (double bass, banjo, guitar), eclectic musician with a broad sonic perimeter encompassing jazz, avant, ethnic music, he played all over the world, teaming up with the likes of Uri Caine, Marc Ribot, Francesco Bearzatti, Gianluigi Trovesi, Anthony Coleman; Ferdinando Faraò (drums, percussion) who, after a period of time spent in the ensemble of Tiziana Ghiglioni, Claudio Fasoli e Tango Seis, had the chance to play, during their italian tours, along with Lee Konitz, Mal Waldron, Steve Grossman, Franco D’Andrea and Paul Jeffrey. The structure of the record sees seven Lacy’s songs performed by the group (Esteem, Deadline, Napping, And the sky weeps, Owl, Bound, Prospectus), “chosen by chance according to our tastes”, says Ottaviano and four originals (Bone/These foolish things, No one flew over the cuckoo’s nest, Diamond flocks accident, Hard landing), “impromptu songs generated by climate in the recording studio”. The polar star of the project is set on the map, directly quoting Lacy’s words: “Risk is at the heart of jazz, every note we play is a risk”, meaning that we won't find here a slavish and calligraphic rendition of Lacy, but rather a free expression that in his music finds the ignition to blast and then disperse in a thousand streams.
Massimo De Mattia Suonomadre - Domicide
Self-taught flutist from Pordenone (the rich and hyper contradictory
north-east of Italy), with past collaborations with Gianluca Trovesi, Ares
Tavolazzi, Tom Kirk, Herb Robertson, among others, De Mattia wrote Domicide as the third chapter of his own project Suonomadre. When the
former “Riot” and “Ethnoshock!” have been recorded live with an electric
band, this time the record saw the light in a recording studio with the
musicians strictly using acoustic instruments. Accompanied by the faithful
pards Zlatko Caucic (voice, drums, percussion), Giorgio Pagoric (piano) and
Luigi Vitale (drums, marimba, percussion), Massimo doesn’t step back of an
inch from the deep nature of his music, defined “rebel music, overtly and
unconditionally”. The political tension coming from social and
environmental worries is the propellant with the acoustic set-up as well,
being text and subtext at same time. Musically speaking, the leader put the
tracks on the ground through hyper free, oblique and extreme sounds; the
drumming, enriched with objects frantically beaten, is constantly forced
to pander to the rolling of the wagon, accompanied by the atonal
Tayloresque piano and by the colorful percussion, a polyrhythmic added
value for a beautifully working final outcome.
For me, improvisation is a wonderful way of dealing constructively with
freedom and the indeterminate. It allows me to realize anything I can
imagine. Of course, it requires work on the imagination, through intensive
engagement with the processes and passion for the music, otherwise it
wouldn't be possible.To quote a phrase from Adorno: The question was no
longer ‘how can musical meaning be organized, but how can organization be
meaningful.'
What quality do you most admire in the musicians you perform with?
That they are able to create meaning and are open to all experiments. That
they are open to every new question to which there is not yet a direct
answer. So that they are truly free to create free music that enables
connections to the future.
Which historical musician/composer do you admire the most?
I cannot limit myself here, there are countless names from all areas of
history and cultures.To name a few: Xenakis, Ellington, Coltrane, Monk,
Stockhausen, Webern, Berg, Shorter, Parker, Wyschnegradsky, Feldman,
Taylor, MF Doom, Grisey, Berio u.v.a……….
If you could resurrect a musician to perform with, who would it be?
I can't really answer that either, because the outward impression is less
and less sufficient for me to be able to imagine something that might fit.
I would have loved to work with: Charlie Parker, Cecil Taylor, Mamady
KaÏta, Iannis Xenakis, John Coltrane, Duke Ellington and Max Roach. From the 50s and 60s I would have liked to exchange ideas and
learn from Karlheinz Stockhausen, Pierre Boulez, Iannis Xenakis, Luigi
Nono.
What would you still like to achieve musically in your life?
More music and music processes from different continents and countries such
as Africa, India, Japan, and South America.
Are you interested in popular music and - if yes - what music/artist do
you particularly like?
Sure! There are always very refreshing productions from, for example:
Tyler The Creator, Beyonce, Rihanna, Busta Rhymes, Justin Timberlake,
Michael Jackson, Aphex Twin, Little Simz, MF Doom, Earl Sweatshirt u.v.a.
It comes and goes to me.
If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?
I would have started with music and philosophy much earlier.
Which of your albums are you most proud of?
That is difficult! The greatest pride doesn't exist for me, as it has its
own time. I will only name a few here:
DLW Grammar II (plaist)
Open Form for Society (plaist)
Open Form for Society LIVE (plaist)
Konus (plaist)
Antumbra, Penumbra (plaist)
Supermodern Vol.II
Beats I & II by DLW (plaist)
Second Reason of my ensemble Grund (clean feed)
The first Grünen album (clean feed)
Amok Amor (boomslang)
Umbra II (intakt)
Once an album of yours is released, do you still listen to it? And how
often?
Very irregularly! Very often during the production process, of course, and
every now and then afterwards.
Which album (from any musician) have you listened to the most in your
life?
That is also very difficult! But of course there are also classics like
A Love Supreme, John Coltrane
Boulez Structures I & II (Kontarsky/Kontarsky),
Piano Sonata 2, Morton Feldman for Bunita Marcus,
The Viola in My Life I-IV (ECM), Morton Feldman
Mos Def & Talib Kweli Are Black Star
[Live At The] Plugged Nickel and Kind of Blue,Miles Davis
Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers), Wu-Tang Clan
What are you listening to at the moment?
Can't remember right now:)!
What artist outside music inspires you?
Also the one I just thought of, here. Let's also add writers: Thomas Bernhard, Sigmund Freud, Joseph Beuys, Theodor w. Adorno, Bruce
Lee, Jean Tinguely, and of course many more I can't think of right now.
On February 12th, 2023, I was fortunate enough to attend a
concert featuring Wadada Leo Smith and Joe Morris at Morris’s concert
series Improvisation Now, which is held at Hartford Connecticut’s Real Art
Ways. The concert left a huge impact on me, and I spent a solid year
contemplating what I heard on that day. What I did not realize was that
fortunately enough the concert was recorded and has since been released as
an album titled Earth’s Frequencies.
This album is an important document of two seasoned musicians performing
together at the highest level. There was something electric in the air that
day—I remember the audience being crammed in and watching additional chairs
being set up to accommodate a larger audience than was originally
anticipated. I remember looking around and recognizing faces of many
musicians in the audience, all of whom were anticipating what was about to
happen.
What happened that day was magic. It was one of those musical experiences
that is hard to describe but you know when you are listening to it that you
will never forget it. The recording captures the magic beautifully. The
album itself is impeccably recorded, mixed, and mastered. The album artwork
is striking, and the packaging of the CD comes together perfectly.
Describing the music in the album is not an easy task. Smith and Morris
engaged in a highly precise performance where they played in an intense
duet which, owing to Smith’s conception of Rhythm-Units and Morris’s
careful study of Smith’s music, resulted in a complex tapestry of sound and
silence. Sounds emerged from both players respective instruments sometimes
with piercing accents that die away and other times emerging and growing
out of silence. Morris’s guitar is breath-like in this performance, and it
often sounds like an organ somehow swelling into Smith’s beautiful trumpet
playing. Smith changes timbre frequently with the careful use of a mute or
un-muted trumpet or simply with changes in embouchure. The result is a
fantastic set of sounds and some of the most sophisticated level of music
making that I have ever heard. This album is a must have and this concert
series is one to pay attention to.
A note on the concert series: Improvisation Now is a concert series curated
by Joe Morris at Real Art Ways a gallery located in Hartford Connecticut.
Morris invites a variety of improvisers to play, and he often plays both
guitar and bass. This year will see Morris also on percussion and
electronics and banjouke as well. A link to the series can be found below:
“Music for me is part of spirituality. Music for me is part of science.
Music for me is part of trying to understand myself.”
Anthony Braxton
Anthony Braxton continues to amaze. After 55 years of music-making,
composing, and teaching, one might think he would call it a lifetime and
enjoy his emeritus status as the dean of avant-garde free music. But NO.
Braxton, now 79, continues to pursue excellence, and this 4-CD masterpiece
should be considered a capstone of sorts, built on several fundamental
schools (he calls them “structures”) of musical thought, each structure a
foundation for his next advancement. One might expect this from an alum of
the 1960’s ground-breaking Association for the Advancement of Creative
Musicians (AACM). Creativity flows through his being like water cascading
down a waterfall.
On Sax Qt (Lorraine) 2022, Braxton uses
electronics as a mood-setting backdrop in four live saxophone quartet
concerts. The performances, held in the cities of Vilnius, Antwerp, Rome,
and Bologna, feature Braxton (alto, soprano, and sopranino saxophones,
electronics), James Fei (sopranino and alto saxophones), and Chris Jonas
(alto and tenor saxophones). The fourth sax alternates. Ingrid Laubrock
(soprano and tenor saxophones) plays the Antwerp, Rome, and Bologna dates
while André Vida (baritone, tenor, soprano saxophones) performs on the
Vilnius date .
Sax Qt (Lorraine) 2022 might be considered a sequel to Braxton’s
10-disc box set 10 Comp (Lorriane) 2022 (Tri-Centric/New Braxton
House, 2024), which was recorded in various live settings in 2021. Those
10 discs are possibly the first recordings of Braxton’s new “Lorraine”
syntax.
Braxton has dabbled with electronics in the past – most notably with the
late avant-garde composer and electronic music pioneer Richard Teitelbaum.
The duo recorded Trio and Duet (Sackville, 1974) and collaborated on one
number (“Side 2, Composition 1”) from the classic album “New York, Fall
1974” (Arista 1975). They also recorded a complete 1994 concert “Duet:
Live at Merkin Hall” (Music And Arts Programs Of America, Inc. 1996).
Teitelbaum was an early practitioner of electronic music, and these
intriguing collaborations not only reveal Braxton’s interest in electronic
music, but his willingness to embrace new ideas and technologies on his
climb towards, for lack of a better expression, his destiny.
The music of Sax Qt (Lorraine) 2022 is not for the faint of heart
or mind. But it is not menacing or aggressive. Instead, it voyages forth
like the astronaut hurled into space to greet the unknown in Stanley
Kubrick’s Star Gate Sequence from his sci-fi movie “2001, A Space
Odyssey.” In fact, these quartets could easily be the soundtrack for
that part of the movie – with the listener as the astronaut propelled into
the beyond.
What is fascinating across the four compositions is the degree of formalism
applied. All the numbers have structure and yet the musicians are given
freedom at times to pursue alternative paths to the same destination.
Listening to them come together in single note phrases and split apart into
runs that hop from one player to the next with amazing dexterity and timing
is, in a word, spellbinding. Then you have Braxton’s compositions inverting
the structure of improvisation, with a saxophonist playing a hot and heavy
array of notes behind saxophones playing a single sustained note
(whereas traditionally, one would expect the hot saxophone to be in front
of the other instruments). This is the breakthrough of Braxton’s Lorraine
structure –to quote Jim Morrison, a “break on through to the other side.”
This new musical vocabulary – a language of the future - is buttressed by
the amazing talents of the saxophonists Braxton performs with – each of the
musicians play multiple saxophones (requiring adjusting to different and
multiple embouchures on the fly), and this variety of saxophones create a
riveting mix of texture and color. Behind their efforts, Braxton offers
transfixing electronic sounds – sounds that achieve an almost superposition
within the music. Like physics, where the superposition in quantum
mechanics, to quote physicist Paul Dirac, “is of an essentially different
nature from any occurring in the classical theory,” so likewise is
Braxton’s Lorraine – an essentially different nature of music and sound.
Momentum, sound wave properties, the sound wavefunction, the sound matrix
mechanics – all contribute to Braxton’s breakthrough structure. It is as if
Jackson Pollock was dripping sound on canvas - so radical a separation it
is from “classical (music) theory.”
Braxton has been building up to this is whole life. From the interview (see
the Lino Greco video link beneath this review), he describes his model of
“Tri-centric” music as a ground level structure that consists of geometric
shapes - a circle, a rectangle, and a triangle. These three shapes are
based on what he says is the ancient music model: “Every region of the
planet (European, Arabic, Chinese, Egyptian, Persian, etc.) has contributed
to bringing us to where we are in the modern era…. All of it comes together
and we learn from everything we experience.”
He expands on this: “I see my work as an attempt to build a model that is
similar to what we have in actual reality,” and says that before Lorraine,
his Tri-centric music was concerned with erecting ground floor-based
musical structures. However, the Lorraine music takes flight above the
Tri-centric structures “in the same way as clouds are separate from the
earth… (Lorraine) was conceived as breath, breath and wind… the act of
breathing….” As such, Braxton says the Lorraine music portrays an ethereal
world.
That word, ethereal, is a great description of the music found on
Sax Qt (Lorraine) 2022
. Unique might be another word. There is an unsettling, subtle nervousness
to the music – a quality that is as much cerebral as it is provocative and
challenging. Take the opening of Composition 436, with its eerie
electronics and saxophone lines that leapfrog about and roll around in
robust and driving multi-note expressions. The musical texture shifts in
odd ways – from single notes to multi notes, one solo shifting to all four
musicians playing simultaneous controlled improvisations. Or later,
in the fourth movement, where the saxophones sound like birds flocking
together – the patterns repetitive and yet unique. Then suddenly, there is
silence - arcs of sound abruptly interrupted.
And to demonstrate the flexibility of his Lorraine system, you can hear
bluesy slides in the second movement of Composition 437 and even a hint of
kazoo! Listen to how the abstractions flow as it concludes. The third
movement is even more wild. Braxton uses the electronics to erect strange
and evocative soundscapes that resemble surfaces that expand limitlessly
outward. On Composition 438’s second movement, listen at the end to the way
the musicians engage in conversation using their instruments. Disparate
parts that somehow make a whole. And in the third movement, he follows the
syncopated sax lines with Stravinsky-like flutters.
Then there is the opening of the fourth movement of Composition 439, where
all hell breaks loose – free(dom) form at its finest. The music flows into
piercing abstract note configurations, and then – suddenly - one lonely
saxophone blowing a long note that stretches like a rubber band. And on the
fifth and final movement, Braxton demonstrates what he calls genetic
identity, where a composer can take two or three measures from one piece
and put it in another piece. In the movement, he inserts lines that recall
music from his late 70s period with his excellent Performance quartet [which
featured Ray Anderson on trombone, John Lindberg on bass, and Thurman Barker
on percussion – Performance 9/1/79 - hat Hut NINETEEN (2R19)] and
his excellent Basel quintet [(which featured George Lewis on trombone,
Muhal Richard Abrams on piano, Mark Helias on double bass, and Charles
"Bobo" Shaw on drums - Quintet (Basel) 1977, hatOLOGY – hatOLOGY
676)].
After listening to these ethereal masterpieces, one wonders where Braxton
will go next. In the Greco video, he says he wants to develop music beneath
the Tri-centric model (e.g., sound tunnels or sound caves). And he wants to
continue his work on operas and sonic genomes. “I’m trying with my system
to make a replica of everything that exists,” he says. But, too, he
realizes time is limited. “Time is running out. Just because I am poor, it
does not mean that I don’t have great dreams! …I’m grateful to be alive. I
have work to do for the rest of my life! I want to do the best that I can
do…. I want to evolve myself. I want to evolve my work.”
Would that Braxton could have all the time in the world to realize his
visions, and that we had all the time in the world to follow them into the
deep canyons, towering mountains, and vast space of sound. Even so, we can
make the music of his imagination our imagination. Highly recommended.
The fun thing about Natsuki Tamura and Satoko Fujii is their incredible versatility. Gentle mainstream jazz, folk jazz, orchestral jazz, intimate duets or jazz fusion, are just a few examples of their stylistic scope. Trumpet-player Natsuki Tamura dares to go a step further in his personal endeavours, as testified by this album with drummer Jim Black. On his previous album, "Summer Tree" (2022), all tracks were titled with the word 'summer' in them. Now the word is 'city': Morning City, Afternoon City, City of Dusk, City of Night, Quiet City, Noisy City, Calm City, Bright City.
The pieces are short, compact and all 'composed' around a core concept : a few lines, a theme, a mode of interaction. Some pieces are completely improvised. Black shows himself the perfect companion for Tamura's enthusiasm, his pleasure of creating, with a lot of space for heavy tribal drumming. It's an ode to music, to life, to vitality. It's intense, relentless, infectious and very special. I share one track, "Bright City", below which demonstrates their art: it's wonderfully direct, with Tamura singing some incomprehensible incantations, without any constraints, raw, simple in its concept yet surely hard to perform, full of boyish passion and fun. And listen to Black's drumming. Despite or precisely because of his mastery of the instrument, his drumming sounds so simple, so straightforward, so full of life energy and so exciting. In a way it's brutal, unsophisticated, without flourishes: a musical language stripped to its core.
Tamura and Black released their first album together already in 1999, "White & Blue", and as members of the Satoko Fujii Four, with "Live In Japan 2004" (2005), and "When We Were There" (2006). Black has also been a regular member of the Satoko Fujii Trio.
It's only after writing this review, that I actually took notice of the liner notes, written by Satoko Fuji. Here is an excerpt that is fully in line with my own response:
"This time, I figured nothing Tamura did would surprise me. After he completed the recording in Bern and I finished a gig in Nantes, we met up at a hotel in Paris, where I finally got to hear what he had recorded. Once again my jaw dropped. For one thing, he and Jim are in incredible form. They sound like whirling dervishes, playing with a vigor that utterly belies their ages (Tamura is 72 and Jim is 56). The tracks overflow with the sheer joy of music-making, and they let that energy take them where it will. As a musician I'm awed by their ability to unleash a performance like this, at their age, especially in the midst of jet lag after flying for hours in economy class. "
The great thing is that both men have maintained their youthful enthusiasm and energetic joy for free music.
Whatever your age, this is guaranteed to keep you young, this is guaranteed to make you happy.
Released just three weeks apart in October, two new recordings by Rodrigo
Amado represent an embarrassment not of riches but meanings and values, in
a world seemingly tearing itself apart. As different as they are, each is a
masterpiece. Both recorded in mid-2023 in Lisbon, they also share very rare
and contradictory qualities. Each resonates strongly with the character of
certain great 1960s music: that is, a collective passion that initially
surmounts formal constraints, then breaks through to create ultimately
original formal structures. Simultaneously, each feels as immediate as this
week’s (November 4 to 10, 2024) headlines, whether it’s a flood in
Valencia, an election in America, an ongoing invasion in Ukraine, or an
unnameable and terrible mystery of genocides in Gaza and random stabbings
in too many other places to keep track. These musics are benedictions,
sometimes harsh, sometimes light-filled, always intense, musics of large
and transcendent feelings, a sonic equivalent to Boethius’s
Consolation of Philosophy
.
The Attic (Rodrigo Amado, Gonçalo Almeida, Onno Govaert) and Eve Risser -
La Grande Crue (No Business, 2024)
This CD was recorded on July 31, 2023, when the Attic -- Amado’s trio with bassist Gonçalo Almeida and drummer Onno Govaert-- and pianist Eve Risser’s Red Desert Orchestra were both performing at Lisbon’s Jazz em Agosto. The result of a first-time meeting, it’s a music of mature surprises, brilliant reactions that are somehow constantly integrated felicitously into the development of the music, resulting in work that is not just spontaneously composed, but which might be called spontaneously ordained or invoked.
Its gritty intensity is declared immediately in Almeida’s barbwire
arco
, something that will be matched by Govaert’s multi-directional explosions
and Amado’s tenor, his sound, at once both full and mobile, resembling that
of Coltrane during his last years (the sound announced on the summit that
was Meditations), when the bright metallic harmonics rolled off
for a warm roundness wedded to an intense, variable and taut vibrato. Along
with Amado’s shifting sound, sometimes from air to Getz to gravel in a
matter of seconds, there is also a surfeit of light in the music,
manifesting in a stream of meticulous detail to which everyone contributes.
Risser is a pianist of genius and empathy (evident since the trio CD
En Corps
with Benjamin Duboc and Edward Perraud [Dark
Tree, 2012]) and finds varied and distinct approaches on every track,
including a percussive upper register that can resemble a xylophone.
The track titles, in French, emphasize existential fundamentals: “Corps”
(body), “Peau” (skin), “Phrase” (sentence), “Pierre” (stone). The physical
design of the CD package represents profound reflection, even generations
of reflection. The jacket illustrations are paintings by Amado’s late
father, the distinguished Manuel Amado: they depict architectural interiors
that have filled with water: a blank-eyed sculpture of a woman invoking
antiquity appears in water; a white architectural column, similarly
immersed, casts a dark shadow. There’s a poem by Portuguese poet Nuno
Júdice, “Angle”, from his book Jeu de Reflets that serves as liner
note, appearing in both French and English. Each track title is the last
word in each of the last four lines in sequence. The book’s illustrations
came from the same series of paintings, La Grande Crue (“The Great
Flood”) by Manuel Amado, that supplies the images on the liner booklet as
well as the CD title. The first line of “Angle” is “A luminous reflection
dies on the waters of summer.” Along with leading the four movements of the
CD, Rodrigo Amado, also the CD’s designer, has created monument, memorial
and symphony.
David Maranha/ Rodrigo Amado - Wrecks (Nariz Entupido, 2024)
While one can easily go astray conflating a music’s meanings with current
events, Bernardo Devlin’s liner essay for Wrecks forcefully ties
its mood to the present state of world affairs:
And people, could you believe your luck to bear witness of the edgings of a
system slipping through the cracks of its own making? Jokes on EU leaders
abounded as Uncle Sam's prophecies tormented somebody's sleep one night and
Havana syndrome appeared on the mainstream news. Further in the east things
didn't look brilliant either and they were coming closer. North and south,
poles were really melting and the Doomsday Clock had ran past it's time.
Communications were being shut. What to do?
That aside, however, wrecks aren’t always a bad thing. This Wrecks
is a continuous meditation of 44:09 during which Amado on tenor saxophone
and David Maranha on electric organ construct a roaring, pulsing wall of
sound, sometimes modal, often multi-modal, continuously fractured and
refractive. It’s an explosion in a cathedral (to borrow an Alejo Carpentier
title) in which the ecstasies of the orderly (traditionally majestic church
music, clarion sound and modal reveries) combine with the ecstasies of
chaos (sounds compounding into noise and layers of dissonance).
Wrecks begins quietly with a reflective saxophone gradually
surrounded by scattered electric sounds and a rising drone. Soon there are
fractured polyphonics, circular runs that touch the tenor’s high and low
extremes, but that can turn rapidly to elegiac melody amidst the rising,
thickening, bruising wall of the organ and electronics that can suggest
scraped steel. At times, in the meditative moments particularly, the sounds
of the two musicians will merge in a synergy of the human and the machine.
Amado pauses briefly around the 36-minute mark after a sustained reverie,
leaving Maranha’s dense modal compound alone, only to return around the
39-minute mark, re-entering with a sustained high-pitch then gradually
developing a final oration built largely around a single determined phrase
that gradually moves from rough to sweet, a phrase that ultimately repeats
against Maranha’s machine song.
A departure from Amado’s highly interactive, usually acoustic trios and
quartets, Wrecks might be the most powerful recording to appear
this year, a brilliant fusion of impassioned lyricism and holy noise.
