Experimental trio Taupe comprises saxophonist,
composer, and arranger Jamie Stockbridge (Agbeko, Martha Reeves and The
Vandellas, John Pope Quartet and more), drummer, composer, and improviser
Alex Palmer (Logan‘s Close, Blue Giant Orkestar, Pippa Blundell, SMIRK, and
more), and guitarist and electronic musician Mike Parr-Burman (Glasgow
Improvisers Orchestra and a variety of projects including Dome Riders and
more).
Taupe has performed at jazz festivals, punk clubs, and venues in the UK and
Europe. They have opened for Deerhoof, Melt Banana, and Richard Dawson, and
have been featured at the 12 Points! Jazz Festival and selected for Jazz
North’s Northern Line. In 2023, they received the PRS International Showcase
Fund Award to perform at the Sharpe showcase festival in Slovakia.
Lemonade Tycoon is announced by two
sets of repeated blasted phrases, before the rhythm kicks in, and it is this
slightly offset beat that pervades the single, creating a slightly
off-kilter dynamic that works well at engaging the mind.
The title , Lemonade Tycoon, is a nod to the classic business
simulation game of the same name, where players run a lemonade stand and try
to make profits, but really, the sound has nothing to do with a game. It is
intense and unique, enhanced by a live drum improvisation in the final
sequence, captured via a saxophone clip-on mic and routed through
saxophonist Jamie Stockbridge’s intricate effects pedal chain, creating a
spectral echo. It is here where the lemonade reference makes sense, as it is
sparkling and chaotic like shaken lemonade, simultaneously precise and
unruly.
If ever a track screamed skronk, it is this one. Beautifully balanced, Taupe
work together to create music that encompasses free jazz with punchy,
repeated phrasing that works it way into the mind, like a relentless drill.
The switches from precise, intricate phrases to turbulent, chaotic lines are
seamless.
They describe their music as having ‘wonky charm‘ and that is perfect to
describe this joyfully noisesome, beautiful music that gets into your
psyche. There is a crazy section where sax and guitar cross swords in
rhythmic interpretation that makes for a bonkers conversation, including
pulled back timings that add to the sense of controlled chaos of the track.
It is a track that starts as one thing and by the end is something different
but equally, turbulently glorious.
This single is fun, free, dynamic, and completely beautiful.
Lemonade Tycoon is the single release ahead of Taupe’s third album,
waxing | waning, which will be released in March 2026 by the Czech
label Minority Records.
In 2024, I interviewed saxophonist Ivo Perelman for Free Jazz Collective. He
told me he was coming to the UK in October 2025 to record with John Butcher.
Perelman described Butcher as ‘a multi-faceted musician with an original,
elegant, yet powerful sax voice.’ Butcher has played with John Edwards, the
late, great John Russell, Phil Minton, Pat Thomas, Mark Sanders, and a host
of other musicians. He has great versatility and in-the-moment skills that
can turn the atmosphere of a performance. When Perelman commented on
collaborating with Butcher, I mused at the time that this would make for an
interesting recording, and it has materialised in ‘Duologues 4’. Perelman is
on tenor sax, and Butcher on soprano and tenor.
Duologues 4 proves yet again that Perelman makes some inspired choices in
collaborators. Teamed with butcher, Perelman is more conversational on this
recording – and no wonder. Butcher is one of the most creative saxophone
players the UK scene has produced in a long time, and perhaps one who
deserves more acclaim. The album is infused with Butcher’s intuitive
responses and quiet, solid playing. The opening track is akin to a
respectful argument, with both players alternating phrase development and
interpreting the other’s take with harmonic dialogue. Perelman and Butcher
are one of those combinations that you might hope would happen, and when it
did, there was no disappointment. Perelman’s register-flitting and rapidity
are exemplary on this track, but Butcher has that ability to slot just the
right tone and note into any gaps left by Perelman’s multiple register
coverage.
Track two is busy, the speed frenetic, and both players create breathy,
singular melodies and develop intricate harmonies as the track evolves,
weaving melodies in and out, across and over each other, while making full
use of stops and gaps. Butcher shows he is gifted in spontaneity and
placement of phrases.
The entire album is a continuum of this conversation that carries on between
Butcher and Perelman. It is an album of equality where Perelman often
suggests the theme, or introduces an idea, but Butcher responds with
creative development or apposite music thoughts that Perelman instinctively
follows. At times, Butcher is like a stalking wolf, picking up the trails
Perelman sets and ng them before diverging off onto tracks of his own
invention. The changes are interesting throughout because they happen with
subtlety, almost before you realise it and the thinking of the two masters
is also intriguing, such as on track 3 where there is individual melodic
phrasing, but by the time four minutes and around twenty second have
elapsed, the pair are in delightful, elevated harmony with an intense energy
that flows from the music.
There is a calmness to some of the music also, such as the gentler start of
track 4, where the musicians are clearly listening to each other, the
intensity palpable in the responses, and both, led by Perelman, visit the
upper reaches of altissimo.
There is diversity too, such as on track 5, where Perelman introduces a
subtle long take on a swung beat, and the slap tongue sections on track 6,
coupled with exploration of as many forms as it is possible to fit in a
track less than four minutes long. The longest track is track 7, and here
both players get the chance – and take it- to be melodic, harmonious and,
naturally, introduce some spontaneity (a lot). Butcher is at his best here
in the lower register of the tenor and in this track lurks a bit of swing, a
touch of classical and a good dose of free playing – wrapped in a colourful
coat of intensity. The final track is a glorious, popping escapade,
enjoyable for the listener and probably for the players too.
Perelman is familiar to many people as one of the great, inspirational
players of our time and he describes Butcher as ‘amazing and responsive’.
This is true.
Perelman and Butcher, Butcher and Perelman. Either way, it is a terrific
combination.
See You in the Pastis a meeting of generations. On the one side are
Kyle Hutchins on saxophones, Seth Andrew Davis on guitar and electronics,
and Kevin Cheli on percussion and vibraphone, all three young(er) and
associated with various Midwestern scenes. On the other side is Douglas R.
Ewart, here on saxophones, flutes, and
George Floyd Bunt Staff
. Ewart, of course, was an early AACM member and has since become
multi-reedist+ legend even after departing Chicago for Minneapolis. This
grouping succeeds not only in blending scenes and rough cohorts, but in
layering the old (or ancestral or atavistic) and the new (or electronic
futurism) convincingly. One need not take such a polarity too literally, of
course. Electronics is hardly new to Ewart’s circles. However, here it
sounds not like Sun Ra’s Moog or even George Lewis’ experiments, but like a
more contemporary – astral prog crossed with ambient and particularist noise
making – iteration.
Together, Ewart, Hutchins, Davis, and Cheli harness a large sound, which,
even in the quiet moments, occupies considerable space. Ewart’s spirituality
and earthiness is a clear thread, but it sounds different in the context of
the electronics and long stretches of wall-of-sound production. Most often,
Ewart or Hutchins fight through the downpour that Davis and Cheli (and I
think Hutchins and Ewart, when on his George Floyd Bunt Staff) conjure.
Actually, it is tough to decipher when Ewart or Hutchins steps up and the
others scape and scrape the sound from behind. Many passages veer even
further from the free jazz stylings one might expect into noise rock and the
most abstract moments of the Grateful Dead’s Space/Drums jams. Indeed,
See You in the Past
is more interested in suspended and extended moments, rather than
progressive development. There are exceptions. Future Ghosts, at 7:43 the
shortest of the three tracks, is a scorcher. It is a free for all from the
beginning and the energy does not ebb until the final moments. Still, the
other selections, Echoes of Tomorrow and Sound Seekers, subdue the quartet’s
most eruptive impulses. It is in these longer stretches that this group
shows what they can really achieve, as they not only find their sound, but
probe it, stretch it, and turn it inside out to utterly mesmerizing effect.
See You in the Past is available on Bandcamp as a CD and download:
The first time I heard Steve Tintweiss was in college. I got my first album
by Albert Ayler, Nuits de la Fondation Maeght, which captured one
of his last performances, and was floored. Then I began flipping through the
booklet and found the bassist. I did some quick Google searching and did not
find much on him at the time. (This was a couple decades ago, after all.)
So, apart from that recording, he would remain just a mysterious part of
Ayler’s late band for me until quite recently. As it turns out, Tintweiss
performed with everyone from Marzette Watts and Frank Writght to Burton
Greene and Byard Lancaster. He just released sparingly.
Live in Tompkins Square Park 1967 captures Tintweiss and one
iteration of his Purple Why (Jacques Coursi on trumpet, James DuBoise on
trumpet, Perry Robinson on clarinet, Joel Peskin on saxophone, Randy Kaye on
drums and piano, and Lawrence Cook on drums) performing the bassist’s
compositions in the fabled (but also very real) Tompkins Square Park in
1967.
Live in Tompkins Square Park is very much of its time and in that
late Ayler vein, though without the insistent melodicism. Rather, Tintweiss
and company are exploring abstraction and dynamic range. Listen to the music
box string duo five minutes into News Up/Down for one of softer moments.
Then follow the piece through to the full-blast realization of the
leitmotif. Or check out the modal lyricism of Space Rocks, a piece that
starts with a slow folk march before opening into a collective but mostly
contained funerary wail. Or the smokey jazz club romance of To Angel With
Love, which is absolutely beautiful. As was common for the 1960s downtown
scene, most of these pieces are bookended by short grooves and ditties that
decompose into freer interactions that embrace the moment of creation and
the probing quest to find the right rhythm or combination of looping horns
or textures. Through all the sparring that reeds and winds do, the
propulsion comes from the relentless drive of Kaye and Cook paired on
percussion, and Tintweiss, himself.
Now to the recording. It is somewhat raw but it works. It works because the
tapes are a half-century old and capture the band live and outdoors. For
that it sounds great. It also works because the background hums, the
imperfections in balance and other infidelities catch the live experience
better than a crisp studio production would have. And this music is about
that in-person excitement, which one hears in the chatter and genuine
participation (singing, cheering, impromptu percussion, applause) of the
audience.
Tintweiss will likely always be best known for his brief stint with Ayler.
But recordings like this show he had sensibilities and vision that stand on
their own.
Live in Tompkins Square Park is a limited release and can be
purchased through Tintweiss’s own
Inky Dot Media.
Gregg Belisle-Chi - Slow Crawl: Performing the Music of Tim Berne (Intakt, 2025)*****
Gregg Belisle-Chi has been at this long enough that I should stop being
surprised. His first album of Tim-Berne-on-Acoustic
(2021’sKoi)
was an unexpected gift that provided a late in the game expansion of the
contexts within which Berne’s compositions could be expressed. If you accept
that the strength of a composer reflects how well their compositions can be
adapted to different contexts (and maybe you don’t), then Koi
served as a proof-of-concept. Four years later a recording such as this
doesn’t depend on the novelty of the concept—we’ve got it! this works!—but
Slow Crawl nevertheless lands as a revelation.
The question this recording answers is, “What can Tim Berne’s compositions
do if you don’t lean into the spectacle? The loud? The electric? The
skronk?” Belisle-Chi brings forward the beautiful and (dare I say it)
exquisite nature of the melodies and harmonies. It’s a different, aromantic
expression of Berne. Belisle-Chi isn’t whipping us into a frenzy (as he did
on
Yikes Too) but inviting us into the baroque-ish—fascinating, thinky, knotty,
satisfying—tunes. Performances of Berne’s music generally have so much more
than pitch going on, but what if, for a little while, the pitch was the
thing? Thus, we’re presented with very complex, introverted, emergent
experiences. Of necessity, this is quiet stuff, but quiet can be amazing,
and that’s what it is, here. 5 stars.
Snakeoil- In Lieu Of (Screwgun 2025) & Snakeoil - Snakeoil OK (Screwgun 2025)
There have been a bunch of from-the-vault style releases from Screwgun since
2020—if there can be said to be a bright side to the plague, that was it—and
2025 saw the release of these two gems. Snakeoil was (is?) an
extraordinarily strong group featuring Berne, Oscar Noriega, Ches Smith, and
Matt Mitchell. Of Berne’s groups I find Snakeoil to be the most intriguing,
complex, knotty, and, almost, esoteric. It’s as thinky as a grad student and
as primal as a rockfall, but bigger than either. These two releases come
from what Tim calls “the early period” but which seems more like “mid-season
form.” So often the music makes you stop and awe. Noriega, Berne’s only
clarinet playing partner (afaik), weaves with spikes, jumps, and
gaps—scrapes, squeals, and deep blue. Smith never stops—what a wealth of
outre drummers there are!—and Tim leads from the front, a never faltering
well of improvisation. The chthonic force on these discs (and it’s true of
all Snakeoil recordings) is Matt Mitchell, shifting the Earth on the piano. What a joy this
is!
Masayo Koketsu, Nava Dunkelman, Tim
Berne - Poiēsis (Relative Pitch, 2025)
In this improvised set of pieces, Tim Berne and Masayo Koketsu bring their
altos together, sprawling on the jagged carpet of Nava Dunkelman ‘s
percussion. The seven pieces are innocuously titled (“page 1,” “page 2” …)
as if they don’t want to give any secrets away or draw untoward
associations. Dunkelman’s percussion is cinematic hereon, as in the opening
piece, presenting us with a driving free rhythm, whipping us all into a
frenzy, but just as often inserting “little instrument” characters that add
color to a landscape that the altos can’t avoid interacting with. Honestly,
I’m not even sure what she’s playing. Is the deep thooma tympani?
What is it that sounds like the lowest of arco bass lines? The notes tell us
that Berne acts as the melodic foundation with Koketsu hanging out more with
the extended registers, and I can see that. Berne is so strong in the
mid-range, but there are plenty of moments where both of these altos are
playing stratispherically, and some, even, when the two are genuinely
delicate.
Elia Aregger is a Swiss guitarist whose album Live came out in the
opening hours of 2025. Like some other European guitartists, like Kali kalima
and Jakob Bro, Aregger seems to have ingested and integrated a
particularly American guitar vernacular created by, among many other, Bill
Frisell, John Abercrombie, and even Pat Metheny, and transformed it into
something expressive and new. When I first heard Aregger, I thought maybe I
stumbled on a forgotten Power Tools-era Frisell album. By no means, however, is the recording bound to the past, rather it feels both reassuringly familiar and yet infused with discovery at its heart.
Live opens in a suspenseful mood and then opens wide with a hopeful flowing melody line. The keyword is flowing. The rhythm
sways gently between Marius Sommer's light touch on the bass and the forward leaning pulse of Alessandro Alarcon's drums. The flow increases and the rhythm tightens as the
guitar transforms, now distorted and dangerous, the whole mood shifts.
The next song, 'B or D' begins more aggressively than the opener: a gently distorted guitar plays a dripping melodic line decorated with chordal fragments, and the bass and drums are still light but insistent, helping give the
spartan guitar parts motion and fullness. Like the previous track, this one
also builds to a rocking section, but which only lasts long enough
to make an impression, then the tension is pulled back. The follow up track is a
ballad entitled 'Martha,' which as one may imagine, again flows, but now
gently, laced with traces of dissonance and hopeful intervals.
This is much more to be heard, but the basic components are already in place:
patient, spacious melodic lines, precisely layered tensions, dabs of colorful
distortion and sympathetic interplay between the three players.
Trio of Bloom - s/t (Pyroclastic, 2025)
So, this one is not really a "guitar trio" in the sense that the guitar is the
leader, rather it's a full on collaboration, which critic Nate Chinen has called a "new-groove
supergroup" -- which is both kind of fun and kind of true. This first time
meeting of guitarist Nels Cline, keyboardist Craig Taborn and drummer Marcus
Gilmore certainly has groove at its heart.
The album kicks off with a cover of Ronald Shannon-Jackson’s
‘Nightwhistlers’ that shimmers and shutters with an antsy pulse and electronic
twists, and is bookended by a cover of Terje Rypdal’s ‘Bend It,’ which offers
a much different kind of straight‑ahead driving beat, along with allusions to
Rypdal’s signature soaring lines. The tracks in between all seem to flower in their own way. Especially the
second track, Taborn's 'Unreal Light,' which unfolds slowly, first in
stretching, legato glistening tones, then transmogrifying into a lithe
rhythmic piece with Cline improvising a melodic dance. Then, there is the
10-minute freely improvised ‘Bloomers,' in which where Cline and Taborn’s edgy
sonic textures intertwine with Gilmore’s fluid, morphing pulses, propelling
the music into a exploration of dark electrified grooves.
Trio of Bloom, with a name that recalls the short-lived collaboration between
John McLaughlin, Jaco Pastorius and Tony Williams, but with an actual
connection to the power-trio Power Tools via their shared producer David
Breskin, is a true aural treat. Take your time with it, let it take root and
blossom.
Marcelo dos Reis' Flora - Our Time (JACC, 2025)
Portuguese guitarist Marcelo dos Reis' Flora is a bona fide guitar led trio.
Sure, it is a collaboration of excellent musicians, but the concept
and compositions are from the guitarist's creative musings. I first
encountered the group on their debut recording from 2023, which you can check
out here and thoroughly enjoy this follow-up release. I feel it would be a slight
conflict of interest for me to properly review the album as I contributed the liner-notes, which you can find on Bandcamp. I will, however, quote
myself to save you a click:
So, here we have the trio's sophomore recording, Our Time, and it
more than picks up where the last one ended. There is more cohesion to the
compositions, but they are also more complex and with a bit more nuance and
contrast. It likely reflects the confidence they have gained after the
fifty some-odd gigs that they've played since the first release, as well
as something new in dos Reis' compositions. "I think this one is more
open and adventurous in some way," explains the guitarist. "The repertoire
from the first record grew up so much live after the recording, and when I
started composing for this second one, I decided to open the music up more
than on the first record."
Let us investigate, starting with
the perfectly appointed opening track "Irreversible Light." The track
loses no time announcing its intentions on seering its energy into your
ears. Each step of the song, from the double stop theme over the urgent
bass and drums to the sudden melodic twist introducing the solos, it is
an exciting piece of hard rocking jazz that fits perfectly together.
Do yourself a favor, click on the play button below and enjoy:
These two recent recordings are linked by the presence of Portuguese
guitarist Abdul Moimême, but more than that,
each is a masterful work of inspired collective improvisation, each a work
of hive mind, achieving a collective synergy so close-knit, one in which
initiating impulses and successive responses are so closely interwoven --
perhaps impossible to assign -- that they might be the work of a multi-armed
and multi-mouthed deity, a figure playing numerous instruments at an
initiation into the mysteries.
Dissection Room (Albert Cirera/ Abdul Moimême/
Álvaro Rosso) - Live at Penhasco (discordian records, 2025)
Dissection Room first formed in Lisbon in 2017, combining Moimême, Spanish
saxophonist Albert Cirera and Uruguayan bassist Alvaro Rosso. This is their second CD, following the
eponymous release of a 2017 concert, Creative Sources 549CD. At the root of
the trio’s mystery there is Rosso. His instrument will suggest foundation,
stability and form, even those players in the virtuosic lineage, but Rosso
is also an agent of chaos – his contribution a chain of disruptions:
claw-like plucking of multiple strings, quivering bowed harmonics, his sound
amplified or closely miked, bass grit ground out at the frog of the bow,
tones seemingly echoing backward as well as forward. Cirera’s soprano and
tenor saxophones provide strong central voices, whether or not they are
altered with various objects and insertions; at one point there is a
continuous line suspended between saxophone timbre and a violin. Moimême’s
instrument is the soul of unpredictability, frustrating even identification:
two horizontal guitars, one a radically evolved baritone of his own design,
with extensive electronics and preparations and striking devices.
Distinctive individual events from any of the three occur amidst a dense
field of quivering sound, the act of distinguishing events and individual
contributions only clouding the listener’s essential immersion in the
collective work’s unfolding, the miracle of collaboration that take place
here.
Wade Matthews, Abdul Moimême, Luz Prado- Trust
from Intimacy (scatter archive. 2025)
The trio of sound artist Matthews, Moimême and
violinist Luz Prado is a merger of two pre-existing duos, Matthews and
Moimême, Matthews and Prado. If anything, it
takes the elements of synthesis and mystery even further than Dissection
Room’s Live at Penasco, for Matthews represents the same scale of
sonic variety and invention (timbral, contrapuntal, environmental) as
Moimême. My early descriptions of Moimême’s work
included metaphors of train stations in outer space. The same qualities of
mystery. energy and inclusive terrain are even more evident here, with all
the partners contributing to the mystery, whether it’s Matthews’ wandering
sound samples (at one point documentation of a recorded voice will appear,
then move from natural timbre to Disney Duck range) or Prado’s exacting
imaginings of alien insect voices. This is not a trio but an orchestra,
operating both in the internal world of dream in collision and in imaginings
of outer space, the nervous system and the overlapping voices of distant
radio frequencies. At every turn, every dance of drama, mystery and eerie,
speculative glissando or rattle, this work moves both further in, to the
echoing songs of the subconscious, and further out, where elastic string
harmonics fade into twilight. The work’s complexity, its invocation of both
lived in spaces and/or psychic realms, both evades description or synthesis,
demanding listening.
When two of free improvisation's leading musicians meet, the outcome is guaranteed to be outstanding, as it is on this album. The performance took place at the exceptional venue of a French vineyard Le Chai at the Domaine "Les Davids" in Viens, France, as part of a festival. The venue and the audience play a role here. That quality of the sound is excellent. It's as if you're part of the audience.
Even if both musicians have performed a lot before in various trios and quartets, I think this is their first duo album. And we can only hope they do this more often.
Léandre’s bowed bass and Parker’s extended, circular-breathing lines are central to the music’s character. Their sounds meet and intertwine—merging, co-creating, and coalescing, or at times clashing, challenging, and competing—driving both players into uncharted sonic territories that surprise, perplex, and ultimately move us as listeners. A second factor is the unwavering self-assurance and near-complete absence of self-consciousness that defines their music. Each musician respects—and even admires—the other, yet this is matched by full confidence in their own instrumental voice.
As a result, every option remains open, and almost any improvisational path they choose naturally becomes part of the other’s comfort zone—because operating without a safety net is the environment in which they thrive. It is at moments not only spectacular, but also extremely beautiful.
The liner notes contain a quote from each musician that basically says it all. Joëlle Léandre: "No writing, no conductor, no leader, man or woman, style or age… Improvisation is about the risk that we take and what we have to say, here and now." and Evan Parker: "Certain kinds of speed, flow, intensity, density of attacks, density of interaction... Music that concentrates on those qualities is, I think, easier achieved by free improvisation between people sharing a common attitude, a common language."
Absolute freedom anchored in a common attitude.
Brilliant!
John Butcher & John Edwards - This Is Not Speculation (Fundacja Słuchaj, 2025)
John Butcher & John Edwards have been performing together for decades, in more than sixteen documented ensembles, yet this is only their third duo album, after "Optic" (2003) and "Scene and Recalled" (2020). The performance is intimate, close to the listener too, for four tracks with a lot of variety and sonic creativity, ranging from sensitive interaction to wild timbral explorations, birdsong, frivolous excursions and playful moments.
Both Johns are so attuned to each other’s playing that almost anything becomes possible—even welcomed. Muted, percussive bass plucks or stuttering, breathy saxophone sounds all find their place within an ever-shifting, kaleidoscopic soundscape, as do high-pitched whistles or even the occasional steady bass pulse. And sometimes you wish you could have seen the performance just to understand how they physically generated very contrasting sounds. In a way the whole concert is art reduced to its pure and concrete nature: to create something ethereal, fragile and touching out of sheer physical activity.
The music demands close attention. Anything can happen at any moment, and both musicians seem to be constantly inventing and reinventing themselves—introducing new ideas, new challenges, and weaving their thoughts together with an effortless sense of mutual understanding. Whatever direction the music turns, they navigate it together. It’s fun, and it’s fascinating to hear. They clearly relish their own abilities and their deep appreciation of each other’s strengths.
I asked John Butcher to explain the title: "Speculation means when you make a decision on something without there being any real evidence for the decision. The title was meant to suggest that - yes, this is improvised, and we move freely as the music is made, but we do know what we are doing (after all these years) ..."
And trust me ... they know what they are doing. Enjoy!
The performance was recorded live at the Einstein Kultur in Munich on October 8, 2023.
The liner notes of this album consist of the Bill Dixon quote above. It's a nice and enigmatic statement, one you can long reflect upon: what does it actually mean? This sense of mystery and wonder permeates the music on this album, a duet between long-time collaborators Alexander Hawkins on piano and Taylor Ho Bynum on cornet and flugelhorn. This is already the third great trumpet piano duo that we can recommend this year, together with Sylvie Courvoisier and Wadada Leo Smith with "Angel Falls" and Satoko Fujii and Natsuki Tamura with "Ki", "Aloft" and "Kazahana".
The pianist and cornettist have had a long-standing collaboration with the excellent Convergence Quartet, with Dominic Lash on bass and Harris Eisenstadt on drums, with several easy to recommend albums: "Live in Oxford" (2007), "Song/Dance" (2010), "Slow and Steady" (2013) and "Owl Jacket" (2015).
“A Near Permanent State of Wonder” fully delivers on the promise of its title. Anchored around two Bill Dixon compositions—“Q” and “X”—Hawkins crafts delicate, spacious pieces that feel intimate, tender, and perfectly suited to Ho Bynum’s warm, expressive horn tone. The abstract framework of the music is full of bright openings that let the light and the outside world filter in, creating room for lyrical exploration. The ensemble’s technical palette is broad and eclectic, blending elements of jazz, free improvisation, and classical chamber music into something that resists easy classification. The result is music that flows with quiet, effortless grace. That doesn’t mean there aren’t moments of raw intensity or surges in volume.
On the last two tracks - "Catalogue (part 2)" and the title track, Hawkins plucks the half-muted strings of his instrument rhythmically like a percussion instrument comparable to Benoît Delbecq's sound, while Ho Bynum's initial growls and squeaks gradually evolve into a more coherent phrasing supported by the pianist's right hand working on the higher notes. The album ends with a repetitive rhythm on the strings, and a subdued lyrical improvisation of the cornet. A beauty.
We have been privileged with great music this year. This is definitely an album to cherish.
The third album of Taxi Consilium comes in its own shape. Just like how the
first two are completely different from each other, this one also arrives as
a whole new version of the quartet.
From the very beginning, the album leans into longer drone sounds, the bass
resembles the tone of artists like Peter Eldh with those deep, heavy bass
lines. What connects all of their albums is that the rhythm section always
feels heavy and deep, while the guitar and bass clarinet have a more playful
energy on top.
Every track holds an emotion that’s tightly connected to its name. The names
seem carefully chosen, almost as if they guide the way one should feel the
music. What the band has written in their description really explains why
every track carries so much inside it. Imagine yourself as a taxi driver,
collecting stories from different people, and as an empath, being able to
feel their pain. Every track is a different ride. Sometimes you collect
sadness and melancholy, and sometimes you get a sense of relief.
The third track — Mouths moving but nothing coming out — gives off a
soothing vibe. It feels like finding your own value, no matter how much the
mouths move; what really matters is what’s being heard. In this kind of
instrumental music, mouths don’t matter at all, it’s the sound that heals
the soul, helping you come back to your own truth.
The enjoyment that Taxi Consilium’s music gives is very rare, something you
don’t get from many full albums anymore. For me, it’s been a while since I
could listen to an album and vibe with every single track. It’s got that
underground, dirty sound, yet it’s deeply satisfying for the mind. Usually,
when I listen to an album, one track immediately becomes my favorite. But
with this one, it was hard to pick.
Still, as the longest one, I’m choosing [orel cat at the door]. It’s another
unusual moment for this kind of jazz record, the track starts with a long
ambient intro (and a cat sample, but pretty enjoyable for cat lovers). If I
connect this to what I mentioned earlier about the taxi driver collecting
stories, this track feels like the longest ride, and definitely the
strangest. Maybe a mysterious cat-person is in the taxi. Not the playful
child from “children longing for discipline,” but a mystic, someone with a
deep inner world. When I write about Macedonian releases, I often try to
point to something from the surroundings that might have inspired the
artists, since I’ve felt those environmental influences very deeply myself.
This one definitely comes from nature. It has an organic, earthy feel, and
its slowness captures all those sunsets on mildly rainy days out in the
open.
After that, the album continues with the familiar Taxi Consilium energy,
that uplifting rush they bring to every live show. If you’ve seen them play,
you know exactly what I mean: the joy and intensity they create wherever
they go.
Possibly the best Macedonian release of the year so far, Workin’ for the
other side — even though it carries the name of a snitch, feels like it’s
got a bright future. One of the most innovative bands to appear on the
scene, making music that’s entirely erratic, with every instrument uniquely
voiced by its player.
Umbra III is the fifth record by Umbra, the duo of Elias Stemeseder
(spinet, electronics) and Christian Lillinger (drums and electronics). This
time they have thrown pianist Craig Taborn into the mix, who blends
wonderfully into their tense, avant-garde soundworld. The album is a live
recording at the 2021 International Jazzfestival Saalfelden in Austria, but
it is studio quality, and the audience are so attentive you could hear a pin
drop.
As with much of the music coming out of Central Europe at the moment, the
listener is left wondering what is improvised and what is composed, such is
the way these elements seem to blur and merge with one another. Their
integration feels completely organic as they are swallowed up by Lillinger’s
frenetic percussion. You almost have to wonder whether this music even
needs
composed elements, as the music has such a fluid shape and the musicians
such a strong sense of the world they wish to conjure.
Lillinger’s drumming provides a complex texture: this is an ensemble very
much of equals rather than a hierarchy in any sense. It may be better to
think of the music as three percussionists; Stemeseder and Taborn both
approach their instruments in that sense rather than a melodic or harmonic
one, contributing to a sense of drive that is present throughout the record.
The record maintains this momentum even during the sparser moments, the
textures overlapping like musical tides, and at no point is any musician in
the foreground; each musician contributes equally to the unified texture.
This kind of ‘textural’ improvised music isn’t for everyone, but this record
is a good example of how much tension can be built even when the musicians
don’t seem to be actively resisting one another. It isn’t a demonstration of
technique (impressive as all three musicians are), but the production of a
soundworld. The music never really slows down, or at least never for long,
and nor does it ever become explosive, leaving me to wonder at points
whether the record has quite enough variety. The second, much shorter, track
‘TYPUS’ felt to me too similar to the first improvisation, almost a reprise.
But nonetheless, the attentive listener will find a close listen very
rewarding, as the details make for some very compelling music. The musicians
are interacting at the microscopic level, which gives a sense of deep
synchronicity. It is therefore music which requires full attention for its
subtlety to be appreciated.
I don’t want to seem like I’m setting up a strawman, but recordings with
titles like this, positing a tangible connection between Our Kind of Music
and the blues often leave me asking questions. In this case, those questions
would be
“Hey, what do you mean by Modicum?”
and
“Also, what do you mean Blues?”
There is, of course, no I-IV-V-ing going on—that would be an
abundance
of blues—and it’s more than a mere spiritual nodding—which would be a
smidgeon
. The modicum given to us by this collective of free improvisers comes in
the form of phrases, allusions, and techniques. It’s quite splendid,
actually.
For example, when Perelman and Wooley trade phrases call-and-response-ishly,
an uncanny resonance sends me back through the 20th century. They play
phrases or fragments of phrases, trumpet and reeds, that hearken as far back
as the sections of Basie and Ellington. I hear a string of notes on this
recording, and then I can hear it in the voices of Harry Edison and
Paul Gonsalves. I wouldn’t put money on it, but even the timbre of these
sections sometimes comes across with a pre-Coltrane fullness. These are
flashes, of course, sunny forest glens in the rocky terrain of their free
blowing, but it has an impact, and, while the two landscapes are different,
they are connected and always have been.
Tom Rainey and Mark Helias have become, for me, the best drum/bass team
since Dave Holland and Barry Altschul. I’ve had cause to praise each
separately in these pages in the past, now I can celebrate them together.
The reference to Holland/Altschul, of course, isn’t a shallow one. Those two
giants were central to Anthony Braxton’s mid-seventies quartet masterpieces
( Five Pieces 1975 and New York Fall 1974) another uncanny
set of music that showed us early on blues and Our Kind of Music in
conversation.
Matt Moran, finally, is the MVP of this All-Star Team. The vibes do seem to
be having a moment, but even in the current context, Moran’s playing had an
especially magical effect on me, beautiful and gnarled simultaneously, and
recorded wonderfully. It brought to mind—and I am not making this up—Milt
Jackson’s playing on that great Miles Davis and the Jazz Giants set with
“Bag’s Groove” and “The Man I Love.” Jackson is, not incidentally, the
greatest of the blues vibraphonists, but also stunning and subtle and an
absolutely necessary part of that early masterpiece’s success. The same can
be said here of Moran.
The wonder of A Modicum of Blues isn’t in its references to the
past or conversations with blues and jazz history, but the title does invite
you to make those connections. Even without those, however, the five part
suite is a five-star achievement—which feels almost obvious given the
players involved. This is a run-don’t-walk situation. As I said, 5-stars.
While not free jazz or sonically adventuresome per se, the music on Vio
3iO’s Viology possesses a modern character that delivers intriguing and
intense head-nodding vibes. A trio, ViO 3iO features Anthony Davis on drums,
Andor Horvath on bass, and Viktor Haraszti on saxophone and electronics.
Haraszti also composed the six tunes found on the album.
The album kicks off with “Bird of Passage.” Its driving beat provides
Haraszti the foundation for his Coltrane-ish sax explorations. Davis’s soul
searching on drums are also of note here – his precise taps on the snare and
his drum rolls keeps the tune sliding rambunctiously along. On “Digital
Samsara,” Davis keeps a steady but wildly syncopated beat behind Haraszti’s
stark yet beautiful full-throated lines. Listen to how the ghostly
apparitions created by the electronics weave in and out of the funky
undertow, and how the electronics evolve into an almost Bach-like fugue.
Then there’s the title cut, “Viology,” which evokes a dark blue night.
Haraszti’s bugle sax line buzzes atop the funk – a hard bop sax line
skipping along a funky maelstrom like a stone skimming the surface of water.
On “The Disappearing Real,” the musicians create a foggy ambiance that
develops into a cool blues walk. On “Echoes of Now,” Horvath uses the bow to
create a sense of foreboding beneath the electronics and Haraszti offers up
a soliloquy of legato full-bodied notes that become more active as the piece
progresses and the intensity grows. Finally, on “Analog Prayers,” the trio
create a landscape that evokes a desert passage through undulating dunes
that stretch off to the horizon.
The tunes found on Viology offer a refreshing take on using music
to create modern and transcendent atmospheres. The trio’s tasteful
articulation of evocative themes demonstrates an ability to create an
alignment of unsettling tension and beguiling beauty.
If writing about a solo recording, of any kind of instrumentation, is a
difficult task, one can imagine the difficulties that exist in creating solo
music. Talking about the former, writing about it, always revolves around
the fear that you might not get, understand, realize or whatever, what the
artist has in mind. The former seems to me much more frightening: the artist
must overcome any kind of fear, present the music as it is without the
safety the other contributors always offer. It is the artists’ bare truth
alone.
Jean-Luc Guionnet never seemed to have second thoughts about going into
unknown territories. To be honest here, he seems fearless. Starting as s
free jazz saxophonist, he quickly stepped into the shaky ground of free
improvisation. But not only that, he has been, for some years now,
experimenting outside his respected instrument, the saxophone, building a
trajectory of sounds that are as free as possible.
Here, on this live recording, he uses his alto saxophone as a medium of
exploration. Ok, I understand that the former sentence could sound like one
of those “heavy” descriptions when talking about experimental music. Quite
often stale, sterile sounds are hidden behind descriptions as such. But,
this is not the case. On both tracks, that are live recordings from 2023 and
2024, Guionnet seems to enjoy his struggle…Because it is a struggle, an
exploration of physical endurance. The first track last 36 long minutes
making it clear to the listener that he is in there to exhaust himself,
leave him breathless at the end while building sounds that are personal and
full of emotions.
In addition, made clearer at the second track I believe, he is looking for a
way to explore the dynamics of the room, where space, air and his grasp of
the instrument combine into frenzied attempts. As a listener you have the
notion that you, with your ears, are checking out this space, listening on
how the sounds come to you from different angles.
Solo saxophone recordings have always been a field of very interesting
experimentation by a number of artists. Some of them have made it clear that
there are no boundaries for the capabilities of the saxophone. Along with
the willingness of its creator to do so, this cd is one of them.
The Ava Trio comprises Giuseppe Doronzo on baritone saxophone, fluxophone,
mizmar, and gong, Esat Ekincioglu on double bass, and Pino Basile on
Cupaphon (friction drums) and percussion. They have been together for a
decade.
Their fifth album Lunae is on Tora Records, and the recording is a
wonderful, atmospheric creation, not least because of the acoustic qualities
added to the recording by it taking place in an ancient trullo in Apulia,
Southern Italy. A trullo is a conical limestone chamber that became the
band’s fourth instrument in the recording, with its echoes and
reverberations sent back to the musicians.
Recorded in Apulia, southern Italy, inside a centuries-old trullo — a
conical limestone chamber that became the band’s fourth instrument. Lunae is a site-specific, archeo-musicological exploration of sound and space. The
album evolved from Doronzo’s composition ‘Sabbatical.’
Across six lunar phases, the three musicians trace forgotten moon rituals
where sound and silence return in cycles or phases.
The opening phase (Phasis 1) is an extensive exploration of mostly
percussive sounds, from the plucked bass to the percussion and sax
intonations, the sound circling and returning in a complex pattern, often
the phrasing interweaving with the next phrase as it is issued. The effect
is intense and deeply evocative. The way the chamber echoes the sound back
sounds primal, naturalist, and powerful.
Phasis II is shorter, but no less atmospheric, with more saxophone, adding
to the vibrations and intensity of the texturally layered sound depths. The
double bass and saxophone inadvertently (or deliberately) cross paths both
in notation and tone, creating areas where the tone is incredibly rich and
the unrelenting percussive element from both strings and drums is mesmeric.
Phase III is atmospheric, with sustained notes creating suspension and
plinky, warping sonic effects, while Phasis IV is a continuation of Phasis
III but transcends into a more melodic exploration at times, underpinned
with rasping strings, and pithy sax. Phasis V is a slow build, but once it
evolves out of the void, it is superb, and Phasis VI continues the
exploration of percussion, deep bass, and other-worldly effects.
Full Moon, November AD 283
Beneath the moon’s gaze,
olive-oil workers gather in secret,
within the limestone walls of a trullo.
Their chants and rhythms spiral upward,
a devotion carved in sound,
vanishing into the night yet circling forever
Because of its unique sonic actions and the provision of textures and
resonance by the very chamber of the recording, it is difficult to describe
exactly the effect this music has. Played by the trio alone, the sound would
be intriguing and, as always, an explorative listen, but coupled with the
characteristics imparted by the limestone chamber, which feels like it
absorbs the sound and then throws it back changed, the listening experience
is incredible.
When I started listening to and collecting jazz, I tended to stay away from
groups without a drummer. I rather naively thought that drums were necessary
to give the music enough dynamics. I didn’t understand the exciting ways
that other instruments can bring their own sense of movement to the music. I
think the first time I understood this was with the Paul Bley-Evan
Parker-Barre Phillips group and their two great albums
Time Will Tell
and Sankt Gerold. I discovered Jimmy Giuffre and his trio albums
soon after that, and have been a fan of chamber jazz ever since. In
particular, I became aware of how powerful an instrument a harp could be in
improvised music when I saw Anthony Braxton’s ZIM Ensemble perform with 2
harps. (I also couldn’t help thinking what a nightmare it must be to travel
around with 2 harps.)
On Unified Field, we have cello, harp and piano and played by
Frances-Marie Uitti, Milana Zarić and Elisabeth Harnik.
Frances-Marie Uitti is a cellist and composer, and is well-known for her use
of extended techniques. Stephen Brookes wrote in the Washington Post that
"The spectacularly gifted cellist Frances-Marie Uitti has made a career out
of demolishing musical boundaries.” That sounds like someone I want to
listen to (as I think would readers of this blog). She has previously
appeared on FJB in Agustí Fernández’s Celebration Ensemble. There’s some
footage on YouTube of her playing with a two bow technique so that she
sounds like an entire ensemble.
I became even more excited to hear Unified Field as I read more
about Milana Zarić. She is a harpist who has worked extensively in both the
contemporary classical and improvised music fields, in groups both small and
large, as well as solo. She is principal harpist at the Belgrade
Philharmonic Orchestra and member of the groups Trio Timbre (flute, viola
and harp) and Ensemble Echoes (plucked string instruments and percussion).
She has performed pieces by Berio, Cage, Schafer, Stockhausen, as well as a
number of Serbian composers. She’s also worked with many artists familiar to
readers of this blog, including Biliana Vouchkova, Agustí Fernández , Butch
Morris, Rhodri Davies and Peter Evans.
Harnik should be familiar to readers of this blog as she has been reviewed
here multiple times, including a 5-star review for her tremendous solo album
Ways Of My Hands: Music For Piano. Listening to it now, I hear the wide
variety of her influences and her ability to synthesize wonderful new music
out of those influences.
On to the album. As Frances-Marie writes, she and her partners were
exploring “the intersection between plucked, bowed and hammered strings”.
The music is an intense but beautiful exploration at that. The first song,
Cryptic Symmetries, begins with a burst of sound from cello, which is
answered by a simple phrase from harp. The piano begins playing a single
note repeatedly and the piece sounds briefly like something from Morton
Feldman. But the musicians are restless and constantly looking for new music
to make on their own instruments and how best to react to their companions.
At times, they’re playing percussively, but then can switch in a moment to
sound quiet and contemplative and then bring forth a raging storm.
I’ve listened to this album many times and I find new and beautiful sounds
every time I do. This will be one of the albums of the year for me.
We've reviewed many trumpet-bass-drums trios over the years. Here's a new update on some recent material with this line-up. Styles are completely different, yet all of high quality within their subgenre. Interestingly enough, three of the trios presented here are initiated or led by bassists: John Edwards, Joe Morris and Linda May Han Oh.
John Edwards, Luis Vicente, Vasco Trilla - Choreography Of Fractures (Fundacja Słuchaj, 2025)
"Choreography Of Fractures" is my personal favourite in this list. It's a trio of British bassist John Edwards, Portuguese trumpet player Luis Vicente and Spanish percussionist Vasco Trilla. Their sound is totally open-ended and improvised. The overall tone set by the trumpet is one of melancholy and deep sadness. Vicente’s playing stretches into sensitive, resonant depths, while Edwards and Trilla intensify the sense of desolation through delicate accents and scattered sonic details that form a fractured world struggling to unify.
Vicente and Trilla have released several albums before, either in duets "A Brighter Side of Darkness", "Made of Mist", or in larger ensembles "L3" with Yedo Gibson on sax, or "Live At 1st Spontaneous Music Festival", on "Muracik", "Dog Star", "Chaos And Confucius", "Gravelshard", and I've probably missed a few. The collaboration with Edwards is a winning situation. The music remains wholly unpredictable; even within its sensitivity, it can become harsh and ferocious without growing louder, relying instead on sheer expressive force. Edwards delivers remarkable tone and presence, both in plucked passages and bowed ones. Its relentless intensity is phenomenal.
This is surely one for my end-of-year-list. I'll share also a video below of a performance by the trio. I'm hesitating to share it because the album is even better.
Joe Morris, Tyshawn Sorey , Peter Evans - Comprehensive (Fundacja Słuchaj, 2025)
"Comprehensive" is presented by Joe Morris on bass, Tyshawn Sorey on drums and Peter Evans on trumpet and piccolo trumpet. It is equally outstanding and highly recommended. None of the three musicians need an introduction. Morris and Sorey have performed together before in various bands, Sorey and Evans did on Ingrid Laubrock's "Serpentines". I'm not aware of Morris and Evans collaborating before, yet the interaction works well.
The trio offers four expansive, fully improvised pieces—fascinating, kaleidoscopic sonic visions. The music moves with complete openness, shifting effortlessly from subdued, muted textures to playful staccato exchanges, often in an instant. Evans’ remarkable range and timbral acrobatics are nothing short of spectacular, sparking genuine delight (at least for this listener), yet always remaining fully integrated within the group sound. Morris and Sorey inhabit this terrain with equal assurance, showcasing not only their deep listening but, above all, their creativity in shaping a coherent and intensely engaging musical experience.
The music was recorded on January 30, 2025 at The Bunker in Brooklyn
Russ Johnson, Christian Weber & Dieter Ulrich - To Walk On Eggshells (ezz-thetics, 2025)
This trio is less adventurous yet highy enjoyable. Russ Johnson is on trumpet, Christian Weber on double bass and Dieter Ulrich on drums.
The three musicians are in great shape, as are their boppish tunes and improvisations. The nine tracks are almost equally composed by each band member, showing the total lack of hierarchy in this ensemble. It is fun, upbeat, joyous, energetic and infectious, and alternated with some sad pieces, such as "For A.R" - presumably a tribute to Aderhard Roidinger, an Austrian bassist and graphic designer, and one-time teacher of Christian Weber - and the beautifully old-fashioned and bluesy "Confession".
The recording already dates from December 2009, recorded in a studio in Zürich, but it gets its release only now. Like his "Live At The Hungry Brain" released last year, yet also recorded in 2018, it takes some time before Johnson's trumpet trios get released. Let's hope we do not have to wait that long for the next one.
It's a studio album, and this is music that will only come fully to its right when listened to in a live setting. The recording quality is excellent, as is the playing.
Linda May Han Oh, Ambrose Akinmusire & Tyshawn Sorey - Strange Heavens (Biophilia Records, 2025)
One more trumpet trio album with Tyshawn Sorey on drums, but now with Linda May Han Oh on electric and acoustic bass and Ambrose Akinmusire on trumpet. The drummer and bassist have also collaborated on Vijay Iyer's "Uneasy" and "Compassion".
Akinmusire was member of the trio on Linda Oh's debut album "Entry" from 2008. Sorey and Akinmusire collaborated on John Escreet's "Consequences".
On this album they are in superb form. All the pieces are composed by Linda Oh, with the exception of "Skin" by Geri Allen and "Just Waiting" by Melba Liston.
The title refers to the saying that human beings tend to choose a familiar hell over a strange heaven. Oh explains: "We all experience how easy it is to be lulled into the comfort of something that may actually be quite negative and detrimental to our well-being. We see that often in our daily lives, but I also see it in politics and in grander aspects of humanity.”
All compositions come with a background story or specific inspiration or tribute: "“Living Proof” draws from inspirational stories of self-improvement, in particular that of her own mother. “Acapella” is a reflection on Joni Mitchell’s “The Fiddle and the Drum". “Home,” “Paperbirds,” “Folk Song” and “Working” are elements in an informal suite, inspired by images from Australian author Shaun Tan’s wordless graphic novel "The Arrival".
The music itself is first-rate, more boppish than free, yet the real delight lies in hearing three remarkable musicians giving everything they have. Akinmusire’s radiant tone and stylistic range make every trumpet line a pleasure. Oh’s bass work shines throughout—anchoring the music, steering the compositions, and delivering solos of real character. Her choice of a chordless trio opens the space beautifully, giving her instrument greater presence and allowing the narrative of her music to emerge with striking clarity. Sorey, predictably superb, continues to show why he’s in such high demand, contributing yet another stellar performance to an already prolific couple of years.
And now for something completely different. Or not. The trio of Royal Flux brings an interesting inter-stylistic or eclectic combination of improvised music with a "nu jazz" sound and funky rhythms. The trio are Sarah Kramer on trumpet, flugelhorn, effects, percussion and sounds, voice, Joe Berardi on drums, percussion, electronics and sounds, and Jorge Calderón on bass and percussion.
Kramer released her debut album, "Home", in 2013 and was mostly active as a session musician, and probably best know from the trumpet part in Leonard Cohen's "Dear Heather". The rhythm section is also relatively new to me, with little references of other output.
Listeners drawn to Nils Petter Molvær or late-period Miles Davis may take to this album. It doesn’t strive for grand artistic statements; it’s simply fun. The sound may come across as somewhat synthetic—perhaps too tidy or programmatic for this blog’s usual tastes—but its cool vibe and infectious energy make it worth your attention.
Some will say that a cornet is not a trumpet, but we do not go into too much semantics here and add this great trio too, with Kirk Knuffke on cornet, Stomu Takeishi on bass, and Bill Goodwin on drums.
As we've heard on previous work by Knuffke, he loves that jazz and musical tradition of the United States, especially the deeply emotional and rhythmic bluesy sound of the south. On the thirteen relatively short tracks - all between 3 to 5 minutes - he brings easy to memorize tunes and themes that are often infectious. Knuffke's vision is that he's "concerned with making beautiful music. Even when the music is free and avant-garde, I want it to reach into people’s hearts".
On some tracks, Knuffke sings, in a bluesy baritone voice, something he's done before on other albums, and it works well to provide some variety to the music. Variety is also brought by the three "Gong Suites", freely improvised pieces that are sprinkled among the other tracks, minimal and percussion-driven.
Bill Goodwin also recites "A Divine Image", a William Blake poem.
A Divine Image
Cruelty has a Human Heart
And Jealousy a Human Face
Terror the Human Form Divine
And Secrecy, the Human Dress
The Human Dress, is forged Iron
The Human Form, a fiery Forge.
The Human Face, a Furnace seal'd
The Human Heart, its hungry Gorge.
This is music without pretence, with the only ambition to develop high quality music that listeners enjoy.
