Ilia Belorukov & Lauri Hyvärinen - Fix It If It Ain't Broken (Nunc, 2025)

By Nick Ostrum

Fix It If It Ain’t Broken documents the most recent meeting between Russian saxophonist and sound artist Ilia Belorukov (here on modular synthesizer) and Finnish guitarist Lauri Hyvärinen. Their relationship stretches back over a decade, though, given the musicians’ distance from each other (Hyvärinen in Helsinki and Belorukov in Saint Petersburg and, currently, Novi Sad, Serbia), it has been intermittent. According to the notes from Hyvärinen, Fix It If It Ain’t Broken is a reconciliation after several years separation (likely the result of Covid restrictions and Putin’s war on Ukraine).

The first cut, Static Pleasure, is slow-burner. A quavering ringing – evoking danger and alarm, or just something out of whack – provides its backbone, and Belorokuv and Hyvärinen lightly puncture, but really encase it with various sheaths of static, rumbling, and piercing sounds. After that, the duo settles into what must be their old rapport and engage in more open dialogs of pixelated plunks and tumbling thrums. Apart from the decomposed nature of all of this, it is playful. One imagines Belorukov and Hyvärinen frequently made eye contact, cracked smiles, feinted sounds before spitting out short scraps of noises, conducting each other to begin and stop. When they break out into louder and more continuous passages – halfway through Hair Trigger and Time After, for instance – this back-and-forth coalesces into the coarse and heavy noise that they so tantalizingly imply for most of the album. (Actually, a lot of this reminds me of the garage circuitry paste-up electronics circulating the internet and many a underground noise shows in the early 2010s, though with a more concerted balance between extremes.) They finally fill the spaces, fill the air with, well, shredding noise, before settling back into conversation mode, and the experimental minimalism (intermittent sections of rending steel, engine noises, and silence, for the most part) that characterizes the final track, God Contrast.

Fix It If It Ain’t Broken, thankfully, never gets fixed. It remains broken, and the duo embrace those shards, glitches, oscillations, gaps, redirections, detours, and (mis) communications beautifully. It is the contrasts, the imperfections, the clunkiness, and determination that make this work, or, to follow the spirit of the title, not work so well. In that, it is a wonderful success. Just turn it up loud.

Fix It If It Ain’t Broken is available as a download on Bandcamp:

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TL;DR and Peter Knight - Too Long; Didn't Read (EarshiftNusic, 2025)

By Irena Stevanovska

tl;dr is a new project on the Australian scene, led by the pretty well-known trumpeter on that scene Peter Knight, but this time he comes in a little bit different, because he arrives with a group of younger people. While Peter is on electronics, trumpet and live signal processing, there are Helen Svoboda on double bass and vocals, Theo Carbo on guitar and electronics, and Quinn Knight on drums.

This record sounds pretty different than the rest of what Peter Knight has. In their description it says that they’re inspired by music like Brian Eno, The Necks, and Jon Hassell. I agree that it can be noticed since the first track starts — it has the rhythm section of The Necks, the Jon Hassell trumpet, and the ambient of Brian Eno. I feel like many of us have already wanted to hear a combo of these types of sounds. The repetitiveness in the first track, combined with the ambient trumpet sounds with effects — I’d say that with the type of vocal and electronics it contains, it adds a flavor of the dreaminess that artists like Orbital or Future Sound of London bring. Like if you only get the dreamy part of them.

The second track carries a different vibe with it. It has a more contemporary and modern feel to it, it brings in the sound of Scandinavian jazz. It has a more free vibe, the guitar takes the lead more than in the previous track, and it has those intertwined sounds. The length of the tracks lets them flow into different types of sounds — even though the repetitiveness of certain instruments still stays, it’s not the typical rhythm section repetitiveness here. It’s more like string instrument loops that carry the track, while the drums and trumpet are more fluid.

The third track continues with the Orbital type of sound. I mentioned the length of the tracks earlier because on this one too it can be noticed — it builds up with a spiritual intro, similar to those ‘90s spiritual rave tracks where you have the sublime opening of a female vocal with an angelic voice. That happens here — Svoboda’s vocal just spreads around, with some of the instruments slowly coming in. This gives space to the track to have a very slow development, which makes it nice, because it gives room for experimenting with different effects. There is a great delay on the drums later as the song continues. Great experience for the calm listener.

Then, when the last track starts, I can say the Jon Hassell influence can be felt from the beginning. In this one, the trumpet takes the lead — maybe that’s why the Jon Hassell influence stands out. While writing the review, I noticed that it seems like every track has its own main instrument that leads it, which is really nice for the flow of the album.

Apart from all the comparisons I made about what sounds like what, it’s just a refreshing combo to hear from people from the young generation of jazz. Beside all the energetic things happening, a calming sound like this, inspired by great musicians, is always a good thing to exist. The thing that made me stay with this album was the unrushed energy it carries — just that slow and foresty feeling of cleansing and peace.

And to honor the post-modern name of the album (which caught my eye to listen to in the first place), the tl;dr version of the review:

Great, calm album, with a noticeable influence from great artists that we all like, like Jon Hassell, Orbital, Brian Eno, and The Necks. Coming from young artists on the Australian jazz scene, together with the well-known Peter Knight.

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NODO – NODO (Self-Produced, 2025)

By Hrayr Attarian 

The stimulating NODO is a collaborative effort among three fast-rising improvisers on Montevideo’s burgeoning creative music scene. Guitarist Santiago Bogacz, clarinetist Emiliano Aires, and percussionist Mauricio Ramos, on their eponymous release, balance bold experimentation with subtlety. They also structure the album in a unique style.

Each artist starts by exploring the same theme in radically different ways. Aires, on his “NODO Es Clarinete,” mixes wistful tones with subtle whimsy, creating an absorbing, spontaneous melody that hints at pastoral elements even as it embraces a delightful dissonance. On “NODO Es Guitarra Eléctrica”, Bogacz alternates pensive passages with otherworldly phrases, creating a dramatic mood. Bogacz’s resonant strums and reverberating strings form a haunting song that seamlessly bleeds into Ramos’ solo. “NODO Es Percusion” features Ramos on a drum kit and other percussion instruments. His polyrhythmic flourishes and his crystalline thuds and thrums conjure up a provocative ambience much in the same vein as Bogacz and Aires do on the previous tracks.

Three duets follow that flesh out some of the motifs that were expressed earlier. For instance, “NODO Es Sintetizadores y Clarinet” pairs Aires with Bogacz’s synthesizers. Into a lush yet ominous soundscape, Aires weaves angsty lines that echo the electronics and maintain a shimmering path within them. The result is quite cinematic and sets the stage for the grand finale.

Despite the individuality of each musician, the session maintains its conceptual cohesion in great part thanks to the inner synergy within the group. This is most apparent on the fully realized “NODO Es Un Trio”.

Clear bells and blistering guitar mix with fiery clarinet drones for an energetic three-way conversation. The collective improvisation is simultaneously explosive and lyrical. Ramos’ percolating beats drive the piece with a march-like cadence. Bogacz, meanwhile, alternates between dense synth chords and textured guitar vamps. Aires chants and performs on his clarinet with equal abandon. A primal spirituality permeates both this tune and the entire record.

NODO, is a masterful work that rewards multiple “spins” and allows a glimpse of a musical scene that remains unknown to most listeners outside of Uruguay. It also whets the appetite of what is to come from these adventurous artists, both individually and as a group.

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Gerry Hemingway's How the Dust Falls Quartet

"How the Dust Falls Quartet" is an expanded version of pianist Izumi Kimura's and percussionist Gerry Hemingway's ongoing work, based on their second duo album by the same name. The duo was augmented two long-time collaborators of Hemingway's, video artist Beth Warshafsky and (surprise guest) synth and sax player Earl Howard. 

 

June 7, 2025 @ Vision Festival 2025, Roulette Intermedium, Brooklyn NY. 

 

  

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Camila Nebbia/Kit Downes/Andrew Lisle – Exhaust (Relative Pitch Records, 2025)

By Fotis Nikolakopoulos

I don’t think there are more nice words to add to the already said about Relative Pitch. The label, under Kevin Reilly, for some time now, has been a constant mainstay of great recordings and fresh ideas. It covers not just the, still marginalized though, free improvisation grounds, but many sides of what we just call adventurous music. Relative Pitch has become, this being the greatest achievement probably, a certainty. You know that if a recording comes out under this name, it will be good. Exhaust is one of those and much more than “good”.

Being a fan of small labels around Europe that bridge the gaps between modern free jazz and improvisation, I’ve stumbled upon, with great joy, various recordings of drummer and percussionist Andrew Lisle. His work on the drum set manages to stay on a permanent red level of energy, while not resolving, most of the times, to classic free jazz blow outs. Argentinian saxophonist Camila Nebbia has been one to watch for the past years. Slowly but steadily she puts out music (and contributes with many other great players) that is both joyful and energetic. Her playing is standing on the verge of the free jazz tradition, taking this as a point of departure. I haven’t been in touch (this is how it goes: the sounds touch me as a listener, a situation much preferable than just “listening”…) with the music of Kit Downes. Maybe, even, I had mistaken him as someone who plays more conventionally. As Exhaust proves, I have been wrong.

Exhaust is a recording clocking in around forty minutes of tight playing collective playing. Their music is performed on the spot by interactions and active listening. Nebbia’s tenor saxophone might seem, sometimes at least, to lead the way, but on a second level (and attentive listening) you, the listener, will hear the piano sharing aggressive notes and passages and the drums being the basis –but not a rhythmic one. Each of the six tracks progresses in an almost linear way, giving you the feeling that they follow each other as they race, providing more energy as time goes by.

The trio produces wonderful, raw, joyful music that leave you with smile, after you listen. Those are the fruits when each musician listens before playing. The common denominator is the energy and pathos that music has to offer to all of us.

Listen:

 

@koultouranafigo

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When the Sun Becomes a Bird: the 44th Konfrontationen in Nickelsdorf

Photo by author

By Andrew Choate 

As the geopolitical world continues to reach new depths of shallowness in terms of respect for humanity, my appreciation for the art that transpired at the 44th Konfrontationen in Nickesldorf last July has only grown. Dedicated to the phenomenal Swiss pianist Irène Schweizer, who had recently passed, the music this year now seems like a utopian counterpoint to the global tragedies increasing and accelerating. In some ways, I’ve always thought of improvised music as a model for living, an ethics-in-action, a real-time negotiation with the material world, an attempt to create something beautiful while wrestling with the myriad shifting social conditions involved.

The trio of Sylvia Bruckner (piano), Tony Buck (drums, percussion) and Martin Siewert (electric guitar, lap steel, electronics) embodied this spirit with understated precision. Siewert opened by groping the electrobuzz, kindling a delicate heartfelt piano twinkle harmonic resonance from Bruckner. Her melodies crinkled—somber and assured—using    the dampening of the strings to bring mellifluous connections to the fore. Siewert added a few ghostly isolated acoustic strums on his guitar before zooming in on an essential psychedelic crux. (I know I always note his psych moments. Martin, dm me when you start a new-wave Flower Travellin’ Band; I’ll drop everything I’m doing and work for you.) This full band rose in waves, quickening their pace and amplifying the decibels before receding and rising again, multiple times – but each time finding surprisingly perpendicular routes to the halting and quietizing.

Green verdure from the music with the late night blue sky. Buck pulled out a scrape as harsh as pulling the skin off a bee, but verdure has that side too. Their second piece started swirlier, an invitation to the maelstrom, Bruckner bowing the piano leg, then a solid crosshatching by Buck to shade in the full picture: look! animals in a landscape!

Photo by Karl Wendelin

Akira Sakata (vocals, clarinet, alto saxophone, bells) & Entasis: Giovanni di Domenico (piano)/ Giotis Damianides (electric guitar)/ Petros Damianides (doublebass)/ Aleksander Škorić (drums, percussion)

The air was so blue, the light so piercingly blue, in the sky, on my lap, Bogdana started dancing, and then a weird howl that wasn’t coming from any visible instrument tornadoed through the garden. A piano vs. guitar warble-off broke loose, so Sakata got inchwormy, in the Coltrane sense. The grounding force of di Domenico’s piano in this ensemble cannot be overstated: his centeredness allowed the band to follow their wildest whims, and his precise accents made each wildness sound wilder, more beloved for being so.

Sakata went trilling toward heaven on alto before switching to clarinet, just as the guitarist switched to another more suited for congliptious underpinnings and thick washes of thrum. Škorić played a scrappy brand of workhorse drums, using leverage and balance to keep the music improbably afloat. Once Sakata opened his mouth for poetry, the full guttural grist and gumption came pouring out. It felt like a blessing, direct and primal. I remember sensing his vocal sounds emerging cone-shaped, spreading like seeds across the space, popping in everyone’s ears at slightly different moments. Edi said it felt like Sakata was narrating the final two episodes of Samurai Jack – bittersweet and oddly fulfilling.

Akira Sakata. Photo by Karl Wendelin

It was free jazz blue, and it blew – but not without a loping melody in the zone of Synopsis’ classic “Mehr Aus Teutschen Landen” from Auf Der Elbe Schwimmt Ein Rosa Krokodil. The band ended on a rumble. Magda D. likened the set to “a wind of energy that comes through the soul and undusts it, sweeping out bad stuff. Calming. After the storm of music, the storm inside is calmer.”

Martin Brandlmayr (drums, percussion)/ Elisabeth Harnik (piano)/ Didi Kern (drums, percussion)

What struck me most was how effective it was that the two drummers couldn’t really see what each other were doing; they just listened and worked together to elevate Harnik. All three launched in with force and never let up. There was density—trebly density—with huffed cymbals rising mountainous into thinner air. At moments it felt like three drummers; at other times, five pianists. We’re talking real cymbal delicacy here – shimmers in tune. That mountaineering feeling never left me: this was music as adventure – climbing, rappelling, gasping for breath, struggling and loving it (what exquisite views!)

Harnik Trio. Photo by Karl Wendelin

Harnik can play skyrocketing harmonies because she lifts her hands and fingers so far off the keys: we have ignition! we have exclamation points!! Brandlmayr channelled jungle jangles, kids kicked a soccer ball in the alley during the second piece, and Kern coralled the rollingness of constantly shifting downbeats. I watched his reflection in the piano lid, which gave the music an added layer of connectedness. The whole thing felt like winning the world’s most non-competetive race: the only way to win was together.

Flights of Motherless Birds

John Butcher (saxophones)/ Chris Corsano (drums, percussion)/ Flo Stoffner (guitar)

On the second day at the Jazzgalerie, I noticed how satisfying the new chairs are: cushy in two places! Perfect for sinking into while aborbing an interlacing of densities from three improvisors prone to prod the microclimates. They micro-processed air (Butcher), land (Corsano) and sea (Stoffner), each shaping a zone with exacting detail. There was something ladder-like about the performance – not in the sense of ups and downs, but in the regular intervallic shifting, like rungs you trace with your ears. I heard the theme song for a really twisted detective show – one with no crimes, but an overwhelming number of clues.

John Butcher. Photo by Karl Wendelin

Insect-style improv, yes, but with a rhapsody corrector. They had the guts to stop when it was right, not dragging an idea past its peak: sweet conclusions discovered were honored, not inflated. It didn’t seem like they had a lot of different things to say, but sometimes saying one thing clearly, tenderly and fluidly from multiple angles is more than enough.

Luís Vicente (trumpet)/ John Dikeman (tenor saxophone)/ Luke Stewart (doublebass)/ Onno Govaert (drums, percussion)

This set felt like announcement music – declarative and insistent. Bogdana responded with a dance that felt like prayer through movement. Govaert was new to me, and I loved how he meshed with Stewart; the two built a thick, flexible web of bass and drums. At times, Dikeman’s overblown tenor made me wonder whether it’s the right horn for him, like maybe he would be better off figuring out new ways to freak a flute. Similar to Brötzmann, when he slows down, he can carve out a really fine sequence of notes, as he did while undergirding Vicente’s fast solo with a solid, descending motif.

John Dikeman. Photo by Karl Wendelin

An intricate and fascinating staccato puzzle began forming in the rhythm section, until Dikeman burst in with vocalic exclamations that sent the whole thing in another direction. Stewart’s bass solo was all too brief – especially given the layered, detailed groundwork he was laying throughout, to anchor the wind instruments’ fervor. Playing bass in this band felt like trying to slow down a racecar: how can you get the driver to honor both the car and the track, the holistic totality of speed and terrain? If a bird’s flight is a message to be deciphered and then obeyed, the sunrise glory rays cast by a frog preparing to leap are pure command.

Red Desert Experience: Eve Risser (piano)/ Matthias Müller (trombone)/ Grégoire Tirtiaux (baritone saxophone)/ Tatiana Paris (guitar)/ David Merlo (bass)/ Melisse Hié (balafon, djembe)/ Ophélia Hié (balafon), Oumarou Bambara (djembe, bara)/ Emmanuel Scarpa (drums, percussion)

This was the set I had most anticipated all weekend, and I was not disappointed. When it began with a balafon solo, which soon became a duo by the Hié sisters, the first thing I noted was that even the musicians not yet playing were smiling, nodding and dancing with their heads. That’s what you want! I was trying to brush away the goosebumps on my arm—I was so full of anticipation for the full ensemble’s sound, I even cried a little imagining what was to come—but the goosebumps stayed, and I stayed riveted, perched on the edge of my seat for the whole performance (though I couldn’t help wishing some space had been cleared for us to dance). [I know the photos are all of djembes, but different moments in text can be illustrated by different images]

Red Desert Experience. Photo by Karl Wendelin

Risser was already dancing on her piano bench before even touching the keys, which amped me up even more. As each instrumentalist joined in, it felt like they were adding colors we hadn’t known were missing – each entry making the picture richer and more vibrant. Merlo’s electric bass locked into perfect synchrony with Risser’s spectral scrapes from beyond the veil. I became totally enamored with her physicality at the piano: standing, throbbing over the keys, through the keys, throbbing through the music. She leads this orchestra not by dominance, but by sheer love for the sound – and that love is infectious. The interplay between piano and balafons was both sophisticated and tactile, harmonic and endearing.

Photo by Karl Wendelin

We basked in polyrhythms, then Risser raised her hand and signaled: 1, 2, 3, 4 BANG – an abrupt, thrilling stop to open onto an abstract trombone solo from Müller, utterly enchanting. Later, Risser added flute, and suddenly we were in Conference of the Birds territory – especially as Tirtiaux played his baritone saxophone with the mouthpiece removed, sculpting soft, breathy reverberations. I’ve written before about how much I admire Risser, and this performance opened up a new dimension to that admiration: her ability to extend the traditions I love by infusing them with sound worlds that haven’t historically shared space. Dark waves of tone clusters and gorgeously exorbitant major chords meshed wondrously with traditional African percussion instruments. Michael said the performance felt like an homage to Schweizer; even if it was unconscious, Irène was certainly in the air. And I have no doubt she was flying on plumes of radiance.

Hamid Drake (drums, percussion)/ Georg Graewe (piano)/ Brad Jones (doublebass)

By the time this set began, I was wiped out – wishing it had been placed anywhere else in the program. (Why make anything follow Red Desert Experience?) But such is the largesse of the Konfrontationen: outrageous highs follow outrageous highs, and it’s the audience’s job to keep pace. Alas, even with musicians I’m practically obsessed with, I could barely focus in the moment. At the time, Jones’ bass didn’t seem to add much to the several-decade rapport between Graewe and Drake. But now that the recording has been released, I hear it differently. There’s a lot of strong, responsive pivoting in his playing – grounding the dialogue and giving it shape. Sometimes we need a little hindsight to hear what was really there.

Brad Jones. Photo by Karl Wendelin

What Do You Want from a Bird?

José Lencastre (alto saxophone)/ Vinicius Cajado (doublebass)

Sitting in the shade of the stone arena at the Kleylehof to start the third day was just what the body needed. This pleasant afternoon wake-up set was perfectly embodied by the image of Lencastre, barefoot in the grass, playing alto saxophone. At one point, he even paused mid-phrase to let a breeze pass. His Desmond-like clarity and warmth couldn’t have been gentler, or more attuned to the moment.

Cajado & Lencastre. Photo by Karl Wendelin

Cajado, too, leaned into tenderness – using the bass’s glorious low-end to soften and lubricate the lightness in the air, never perturb it. From the performances I’ve seen and the recordings I’ve heard, his wide range is clear – but today it was his restraint and generosity that stood out. This was an afternoon duo of subtle gestures, gracious pacing and attunement to the setting.

Egg Shaped Orbit: Almut Schlichting (baritone saxophone)/ Els Vandeweyer (vibraphone, balafon)/ Keisuke Matsuno (electric guitar)

I had to catch up on a meal during this set, so I listened from a little farther away than usual, which may have accounted for my inability to fully submerge into it. Strange, since I’m a longtime fan of Vandeweyer’s luscious, quavering vibraphone tone. Matsuno’s    guitar playing leaned spaceward, pushing the vibe into slightly psychy territory before Vandeweyer scattered detritus on the vibes and plunked at the objects with a slightly madcap frenzy. Schlichting’s baritone came across a bit bonky, in the Vandermarkian way—repeated one-note blasts—and it didn’t quite land for me, though it may have been a case of schnitzel brain. Distance, digestion and sonic subtlety don’t always align, but I’d gladly revisit a recording of this set if it ever emerges.

Phil Minton (voice)/ Carl Ludwig Hübsch (tuba, voice)

If the voice is the most human instrument, is the tuba the most non-human? Nah, probably French horn (which could explain its scarcity in jazz and improvised music). Anyway, this set was an audience favorite: full of super-dramatic vocal exchanges (sometimes through the tuba, sometimes direct) that conjured hilarious scenes of kids playing, parents arguing, animals cavorting. Lots of whistling too. Hübsch’s stage presence was pure jokester – a perfect compliment to Minton’s impeccable timing and split-second shifts of tone and emotion.

Hübsch & Minton.  Photo by Karl Wendelin

They leaned into the silliness in a way that deepened its natural, true profundity, and I couldn’t help thinking what a great intoduction to improvisation this would be for children. Hübsch danced with his face, further amplifying the set’s mini-dramas. Minton doesn’t do things with his voice that you couldn’t do, making the experience of watching him feel accessible, even communal. They touched on multiple registers, from faux military chant to quasi-religious sanctimony – and everything came off as an invitation: to enjoy, to laugh, to delight in awe. The invitations were accepted by all.

Turquoise Dream: Carlos “Zingaro” (violin)/ Marta Warelis (piano/ Marcelo dos Reis (acoustic guitar)/ Helena Espvall (cello)

Between sets at the Jazzgalerie, things feel casual—people chatting, drinking, stretching and carrying on—but once the music begins, the atmosphere snaps into place. Focus tightens the stage with a kind of reverent immediacy: you can hear a bar glass clink from 50 meters away. The first sound that struck me in this final set was Espvall’s cello – echoey, but not hollow; open, ringing. Later she played a flamenco-inflected solo that became the highlight of the set for me; it was full of all the flair and constrained madness that characterizes the rhythmic complexity and tension of that music for me. Compelling.

At one point someone’s empty glass rolled on the stone ground; Warelis heard it and mimicked the rolling with a few churns through a high-end piano ramble – playful, uncanny. Attacking two corks placed wedged in his guitar strings with mallets, dos Reis was significantly more vicious with his guitar than I had ever heard him. He strummed it the way a dog barks. After one particularly manic onslaught, he picked up both legs and rolled back in his seat. Espvall watched, wide-eyed, with the same combination of encouraging esteem and total captivation that the audience seemed to share. (Her glorious solo followed soon after.) [Wow, it’s pretty amazing to write things and then get sent photos that perfectly encapsulate what you’ve already written]

Espvall & dos Reis.  Photo by Karl Wendelin

Overall, this was an odd set to close the festival—it felt a little fierce and eerie—but what else can you expect from a legend of textural expansiveness like “Zingaro” in a band with a bunch of young sonic form-twisters? When the final tones drifted away, I was struck by the sheer skill on display throughout the weekend: that ability to create sensitive, brand-new music, at any moment, at the drop of a hat. It’s honestly still astonishing to me, after many decades of listening.

The dance party that followed was particularly memorable, Risser on flute and Stewart playing shot-glass percussion along with the DJs for quite some time. The 45th incarnation is right around the corner. You can have this dance.

Photo by author

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Ivo Perelman, Nate Wooley, Mark Helias, Tom Rainey - A Modicum of the Blues (Fundacja Sluchaj, 2025)

By Sammy Stein

The blues – turned inside out, expunged, explored, and exploded – is this what this album is? The title would hint at this, so, given the reputations of Ivo Perelman and his collaborators - Nate Wooley on trumpet, Mark Helias on bass, and Tom Rainey on drums, might we expect some blues riffs?

One thing is sure. The group sounds as if they are having the time of their lives. Deep conversations, some arch playing over each other, and uplifting, playful interludes make this a Perelman-led album that has managed to find another niche within free jazz music.

Normally, Perelman’s tenor sax playing in the lower registers is beautifully ferocious, and so energetic, you could dry paint with the remaining force, but here there is a tempering of the music, a honing down and diving deep into rhythms, patterns, and gestures enveloped by the quartet of musicians with a good dose of free form. Musical conversations are shared as instruments pick up, deliver, challenge, and at times, decisively take back musical ideas.

Let’s not get carried away by the title and lean towards the blues in our expectations. Modicum is the word to keep in mind, and while there are subtle and clever nods to blues patterns and tempos, especially in the gesturing towards holler and response, this remains an album of spontaneous, free music.

Track 02’s introduction briefly has overtures of a big band sound, but this lasts four bars before the free-range exploration begins with Wooley’s trumpet leading the others in a wonderful, looping track, with melodies that arise like wisps before they vanish. But some are captured by Perelman, who translates them from misty essence into gorgeous, sensual tenor sax moodiness, the others dropping back for a while to leave percussion bells and Perelman in conversation. Until, that is, they tire of observing and rush in as one to take an active, and riotous part. Track 03 has an inherent sadness about it, the buzzy sax line sounding like a soft wail at times, and the play on the minor key changes adds to the deep, emotive atmosphere. On this track, imagery is ramped up to the full. You can imagine fields, workers, chants, and hollers – and not just because the title inspires it. Helias’s bass work is impressive, subtle, delivering a chuntering, powerful conduit, powering the others, and presenting a solid line for them to hang their contributions on.

Not the feisty, fearless Perelman of many recordings, but here now and then, there is a reflective, more sensitive design to his playing. There is so much room on this album – room for solos, room for conversations between instruments, and room for free-for-all sections where each instrument struggles to be heard, held together by the sax delivered by Perelman in tempered, controlled ways.

Track 04 has outstanding bass as an introduction, Wooley’s imperious trumpet adds layers across the top, and Perelman delivers sweet, mellifluous lines, interspersed with equally emotive free explorations.

On track 05, the instrumance between Helias’s bass and Perelman’s tenor is beautiful to hear in the opening, and Perelman then sprints off into a playful mode with the bass. The track then develops into a wonderful, layered debate with each instrument adding its voice, considering, listening, and coming back for more interaction. Just beautiful.

As ever with Perelman at the helm, each track is a story, the stories told in different ways, about different subjects, times, and images are conjured from pictorial meadows to the darkest recesses of the human soul by this magician of music but on this album, there is little of the dark side and a lot of the fun, explorative, playing with sound. Perelman, on other recordings, has stayed in the altissimo register, but here he travels the full range of his sax, switching into altissimo only for brief passages and largely remaining at the ground level. A lot less squeaking and a lot more speaking, you might say. But speak he does, and there is emotion in his playing too, as he explores yet another niche of music, clearing out the corners and revealing what is hidden. Perelman is prolific and produces albums on a regular basis. It might be expected that by this point in his illustrious career, he is nearing the point of exhausting free playing, there can’t be more to find, but Perelman finds those hidden treasure, winkles them out and, with the help of superb musicians who understand his intentions, throws these musical gems at the feet of the listener to gather in if they wish.

Releases in August 2025

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Ed Jones/Emil Karlsen – Liminal Spaces (Confront Recordings, 2025) *****

By Fotis Nikolakopoulos

Four years after their first release together, which was reviewed here, Emil Karlsen (drums and percussion) and Ed Jones on the saxophones produce another great recording for the sax and drums tradition. And one of the best for 2025, I dare to comment.

Confront has built an eclectic and open to new sounds catalogue of improvisational musics, having cut most ties with what we call (or I do) free jazz. Not that this juicy, clocking in over an hour, CD is “just” free jazz. A more accurate description, hoping that I don’t get to label the music, would be that Liminal Spaces bridges the gap between free jazz and free improvisation with absolute success.

The duo’s playing is free, low key but full of energy and concentrated. Their interaction allows them to hear and play, with that order. All tracks are full of possibilities, never quite ending the way they started. They play almost in unison, as if their music derives only from collective thinking and not from individual approaches. They never resolve to high levels of volume, apart from very short joyful passages. The mastering by Chris Sharkey allows the listener to get a grasp of their two way struggle: communication between them and a will to continue playing together, never resolving to any kind of solo playing tradition.

Jones is always a joy to listen to his sax, be it tenor or soprano, and has become a favorite of mine. I bet that his willingness to interact makes his and ideal partner for any musician who is eager to improvise. Surely he seems ideal for Emil Karlsen who has, repeatedly, for some years now been playing and interacting the hard way –the way of collective free improvisation.

After repeated listening, considering that this music last for over an hour, you get to listen to many short phrases and melodies that pop-up for seconds, only to leave their space to the next ideas. What a fruitful, thrilling recording this is.

Listen:

@koultouranafigo

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Otomo Yoshihide, Emilie Škrijelj & Tom Malmendier - Weird Morning Meeting (Eux Sæm, 2025)

By Nick Ostrum

Weird Morning Meeting is a strange album. On the one hand, the configuration of instrumentalists is unique. The trio includes drummer Tom Malmendier and turntablists and electronicists Otomo Yoshihide and Emilie Škrijelj. I can think of a few drum-turntable and many more drum-electronics releases that have caught my ear in the past – many with drummers Paal Nilssen-Love and Christian Lillinger, who seem drawn to those combos – but I cannot recall a trio outing with this constitution. On the other hand, the product is fantastic, in both the superlative (superb) and unconventional (the stuff of fantasy) senses of the word.

I am not sure I am ever prepared for what any given Yoshihide release will sound like. He has already cast such a wide net, from full-on freak out music to minimalissimus near-silence to pop tunes. On Weird Morning Meeting, he abandons his guitar for a vinyl set-up. Tom Malmendier has been quite active, as of late, in the Creative Sources circle and various combinations with Dutch artists such as Dirk Serries and Colin Webster, as well as with Emilie Škrijelj. For his part, Škrijelj has chalked up collaborations with everyone from Mike Ladd to Lê Quan Ninh to Michael Thieke.

From the first rat-a-tat of the drum and the ricocheting shrieks of electric sound, Weird Morning Meeting had me. The first few minutes comprise various combinations of fire, brimstone, and pounding. Malmendier and Yoshihide hurl out squeaky shards and rumbling tremors, while Škrijelj shows an unconventional level of endurance in his stilted and stuttered beats. Malmendier and Yoshihide engage in a dialog, with one responding to, mimicking, and anticipating the other, as Škrijelj lays a jittery foundation. About 12 minutes in, what sounds like a skipping and distorted Ayler tune enter the fray for a half-minute.

The shock of the initial blast does wear off, but before the listener’s mind can wander too much, the trio slows about 17 minutes in. The density lightens and various scrapes, ringing tones, and what sounds like a motor on a cymbal take over. Texture replaces energy as the driving force. The nuances foreground. This is where the meeting becomes weird rather than explosive. It sounds very much in the electroacoustic vein, with the turntables serving as a unique bridge between the two poles. Malmendier and Yoshihide turn their turntables into some semblance of a closed-circuit board, though some of the textures sound just too raw and vibrative to be solely electronic.

The relative calm lasts about ten minutes before the potential energy the musicians have been building converts to kinetic (and electric). After an extended build-up, the trio expels another eruptive and exhausting release that persists with surprising fervor until the whole tangle unravels to an enthusiastic and merited applause.

Weird Morning Meeting is available as a download and CD on Bandcamp: 

PS: In case you are not convinced, you can watch a live performance from March 25 of last year here:

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Lisa Mezzacappa

Bassist Lisa Mezzcappa has been a strong presence on the west coast experimental music scene. Recently her label, Queen Bee Records, has begun series she calls 12/12, which is 12 recordings from creative music composers in the Bay Area being released over the next 12 months. So far, the series is quite strong and we have reasonable expectations that it will remain so in the coming months. You can see more here. Mezzacappa will also be in residency at the Stone in NYC this week with a number of her close musical colleagues.. 

For today's video, we present you with the Lisa Mezzacappa 5(ish): 

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triobrok –selt titled (self released, 2025)

By Fotis Nikolakopoulos

Triobrok is a Balkan outfit that combines the energy of punk, the urgency of improvisation and the transcendence of post-Coltrane free jazz. And I really like it!

Consisting of Ali Onur Ogun on tenor saxophone, Daniel Izmaylov on double and electric bass and Atilla Ozan Keskin on the drums. On the second track, the lovingly titled “Low Profile Rich People”, Marko Stricevic plays electric guitar. They channel raw energy, combining elements of the aforementioned musics, but never stick to then or try to stand behind one musical label. Quite the contrary I strongly believe, as they openly try (or cry through their respected instruments…) to deconstruct all labels.

Their music is certainly aggressive and if I had to nag about something for this fine recording, it would be that the sheer volume of the two so satisfying tracks (clocking just over forty minutes) sometimes saturate their capacity to improvise. On the other side of things, I fantasize about catching them live. It would be a blast for sure.

Covering the distance between Istanbul and Belgrade, the geography and their Balkan roots play a role (even though, on a first level, this isn’t a thing to expect). Generalizing a bit, our shared Balkan experiences, past and present, have always been about fierce, joyful, trancelike music that generates, more often than not, extreme feelings.

In bandcamp’s notes there is a passage that declares –I’m putting my explanation of it here- their playing as something that “felt right” for them in that time and place. I strongly believe that this is the key to understand but, more importantly, to feel their music. Triobrok engulfs the absolute urgency of now, as any great music should, playing as if it is the last time and delivering an organized chaos of many sonic possibilities. Certainly one of the best releases for 2025 so far for me.

Listen here:

@koultouranafigo

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Olie Brice Quartet - All It Was (West Hill, 2025)

By Eyal Hareuveni

British double bass player-composer Olie Brice is known for his ongoing work with Paul Dunamll and Eddie Prévost. Brice has a new quartet featuring his favourite collaborators, tenor sax player Rachel Musson (who recorded duo and trio albums with Brice), pianist Alexander Hawkins (who has played with Brice in the trumpeter Nick Malcolm Quartet), and drummer Will Glasser (who has played in Brice Trio and Octet). The debut album of the quartet was written in a period of intense emotions for Brice, reflecting the grief and pain of losing his father, Tosh Brice, and fused with the horror and despair at the genocide in the war in Gaza (Brice is a Jew who has lived in Jerusalem).

The six pieces, recorded at the Fish Factory in London in October 2024, reflect the emotional intensity and urgency, as well as the uplifting, life-affirming power of music. The opening piece, “Listening Intently to Raptors” is dedicated to the great American double bass player John Lindberg, and its title comes from Brice and Lindberg’s email correspondence during the COVID-19 lockdown, and relates to Lindberg Raptor Trio and one of the latest albums of Lindberg (Western Edges, Clean Feed, 2016). This piece cements Brice’s commanding, thoughtful playing as well as the egalitarian dynamics of the quartet. “After a Break” marks the end of composer’s block, with the assistance of Steve Lacy's music, introduced by an emphatic, playful duo of Brice and Musson, answered by the duo Hawkins and Glaser, before all intensify together the playful commotion.

The melancholic ballad “Morning Mourning” reflects on the loss of Brice’s father and the process of grief, introduced and concluded with Brice’s bass solos that are so beautiful and masterful, radiating humbly his deep emotions, accompanied gently by Hawkins, Glaser’s delicate touches on the cymbals, and Musson's lyrical articulation of the theme. The following, short “Happy Song for Joni”, dedicated to Brice’s beloved goddaughter, suggests the complete opposite, a fiery free jazz piece that pushes Musson’s to raw and urgent solos.

“A Rush of Memory Was All It Was” is dedicated to Cecil Taylor and Jimmy Lyons, and its title is a quote from American poet Nathaniel Mackey (whose poems often reflected on Taylor’s music). It exhausts the full, explosive power of this quartet, in the spirit of the inspired, wise, and uncompromising free improvising mentors. This impressive album is concluded with “And We Dance on the Firm Earth” (a quote from a poem by Barbadian poet Kamau Braithwaite), a soulful, optimistic piece, led by Musson’s emotional sax playing, driven by the rhythm section of Hakins, Brice, and Glaser. It suggests, as Brice notes, that “life is complicated, and the music also comes from joy and love”. 

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Nick Storring – Mirante (We Are Busy Bodies, 2025)

By Nick Ostrum

Mirante is the latest release from multi-instrumentalist and composer Nick Storring.  In a way, it picks up where his 2020 My Magic Dreams Have Lost Their Spell left off in its infatuation with 1970s sound production. Imagine the end to Shuggie Otis’ 'Strawberry Letter 22' looped and stretched indefinitely. This time, however, Storring also captures a rich and dreamy new wave vibe, as well as frequent borrowings from Brazilian percussion.   

Mirante, however, also has many other influences that make the resulting recordings so rich. After two bouncy ambient pieces, 'Roxa I and II,' the third track, 'Mirante,' touches on day tripping rave music before slipping into clock sounds that slowly align in another hazy summertime vision. Then, as an example of the Brazilian connection, a drum circle bridges into the next piece, the drum and bass heavy 'Falta de Ar.'

Here, I would like to add a corrective, as I am falling into a trap I had wanted to avoid but apparently cannot. Isolating elements and segments gives a misleading impression of what makes this album special. Mirante works precisely because of how it configures and blends these elements, not because of the overwhelming or identifiable qualities in any input taken on its own. Inspirations from Brazilian dance hall combine with electronic experimentalism in unexpectedly pleasant ways. Field recordings run into downtempo into trip hop. Still, such descriptions might imply this is mere hodge-podge, and that Mirante is certainly not.

'Roxa III,' which closes the album, is a perfect encapsulation both of the unique combinations of styles and sounds and the liquescent  flow of the album. Each track can stand on its own, but, as with the individual elements, is best taken in the context of the surrounding tracks. That in itself may not be unique to Mirante. However, Storring carries it out with rare skill and uncommon, and uncommonly convincing, vision. 'Roxa III' is a softly melting ambient piece until the polyrhythms bubble up. The rest of the track, which reaches almost ten minutes, is a tug-of-war between these two polarized tendencies. Through isolating (to an extent) and juxtaposing the two primary drivers of the album – liquid ambient sound production and club-adjacent drum-beats – in such a manner, Storring draws the listeners attention to the tension underlying everything they had just heard but likely missed for the smooth production. In doing so, he invites the listener to start the whole process over, and hear the album anew, now as seven quite unique explorations of a variegated but distinctive sonic space.

Mirante is available as on CD and vinyl, and as a download on Bandcamp:

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Bill Orcutt Guitar Quartet - HausLive4 (HAUSMO148 - TAPE / DIG, 2025)

By Guido Montegrandi

Since its release in 2022, Music for Four Guitars was one of my favourite recordings, but unfortunately I have never had the possibility to watch and hear a live rendition of this work, so this cassette is my occasion and I must say that it is a very good occasion.

(To be truthful,  I also had another occasion with Four Guitars Live in 2024.)

My first impression reading the sequence of title of Music for Four Guitars was that there was a story told and since in this Guitar Quartet the order is different, some pieces are missing and two are fused together, this cassette tells a different story.

The quartet is Wendy Eisenberg, Ava Mendosa, Bill Orcutt, Shane Parish (who was responsible for the transcription of the pieces in the original work) and their sound is really worth listening – it has a kind of raw energy and if the studio album was on the treble side of the guitar, here the basses are more present in the mix and the result is a sense of opening, a music for the road.

In a small talk almost at the end of side one Bill Orcutt says: The record’s 30 minutes, the show’s an hour so we’re improvising… (Orcutt Banter and intros) and they are improvising but most of all they are practicing the art of interplay at a very deep level. Many of the pieces stay on the same time span as the studio version with just Out of The Corner of The Eye and On The Horizon that extend for nine and twelve minutes respectively, but these live version, played with the help of four human beings, produce a expansive energy field.

Another piece Barely Driving is the result of the union of two pieces Glimpsed While Driving and Barely Visible that shared the same riff and in the live version are fused together to create a powerful and distorted gig-like dance movement .

Somehow this music makes me think of what David Thomas (the founding artist of the Pere Ubu who recently passed away) said in a radio interview in 2016 (if you understand a bit of Italian here’s the link)

“rock music is the folk music of North America (…) and folk music is traditionally based, the songs tell stories that stretches across generations and years of life (…) and rock has to be understood in terms of the east west journey across America, has to be understood in terms of American geography and particularly in terms of roads…”

Now my impression is that the corpus Bill Orcutt is developing with his Guitar Quartet and also with some of his recent works may not be what many people would call rock but is moving in this very direction creating great folk music for the future.

You can buy the cassette or download the music here:

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Vijay Iyer & Wadada Leo Smith - Defiant Life (ECM, 2025)

By Stef Gijssels

This album has been out for a while, and if one deserves our attention, it's this one. This is not the first time that luminaries Vijay Iyer - piano, Fender Rhodes, electronics and Wadada Leo Smith - trumpet - collaborated. They had their first duo release with "A Cosmic Rhythm With Each Stroke" (2016). Other collaborations include the trio with Jack DeJohnette on "A Love Sonnet For Billie Holiday", and Iyer was the pianist for quartet and large ensemble albums. 

If "A Cosmic Rhythm" was a tribute to musicians, "Defiant Life" honours the efforts by individuals to come up for their rights. This is a topic that we are familiar with in Smith's music: his defense of human rights and his craving for a world that is more human and just. 

In the liner notes, Vijay Iyer writes: "This recording session was conditioned by our ongoing sorrow and outrage over the past year’s cruelties, but also by our faith in human possibility". The outrage is hard to find musically, but the sorrow and the hope are omnipresent. It is sad, melancholy, emotional, bluesy, and meditative in its most neutral moments.

They worked two days on the album, some time last year in Switzerland, talking about the state of the world, and translated their feelings and ideas into the music. Their music is one of full openness to inspiration and follows the flow of the sound itself. 

Two of the tracks were notated, “Floating River Requiem” by Smith is dedicated to the first ever Congolese prime minister Patrice Lumumba, assassinated in 1961 after the independence from Belgium, and "Kite" by Iyer is dedicated to the Palestinian writer and poet Refaat Alareer, who was killed by an Israeli airstrike in Gaza in 2023. 

The first track, "Prelude: Survival", is a dark and ominous piece, setting the context for the future of humanity, with dark piano chords, altered by electronics and a sparse, struggling trumpet. "Sumud" is again driven by long tonal center on electronics, Iyer on his Fender piano, and Smith's trumpet soaring as can be expected. The approach is minimalist yet incredibly intense. 

"Elegy: The Pilgrimage" is the slowest track, very open-textured and bluesy, with Iyer's electronics creating a kind of washing sound from a distant ocean or the wind blowing.  

The role of the musician in all this, is also to participate in the political debate, to give a true expression of fearlessness and defiance, with strong moral codes and no boundaries for humanity: "Music has that quality, too" says Smith "both in terms of how inspiration works, and also how we think about ourselves in a space that has been limited by political boundaries. The expanse that art looks at is more akin to the deeper philosophical notion about being, you know, and also about this notion of comprehending why we are who we are."

Vijay Iyer writes in the liner notes: "I'm always struck by how our music simply appears. And I've wondered how you understand that particular quality that it has. It just unfolds ... which is different! I don't have many experiences like that." To have music "appear" and "unfold" in the way this album sounds, is quite exceptional. It requires two brilliant musicians and a mutual understanding on how to 'compose' in a live environment. 

The last track on the album illustrates this. It's simply majestic, as you can hear on the ECM promo video below.

It seems that my credit for giving five-star ratings to Wadada Leo Smith albums has depleted, but trust me, this album is again an absolute winner. Don't miss it!

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Guitars ... of Songs and Sounds (part 1)

By Paul Acquaro 

  

My love for the guitar is no secret. Evidence abounds from the multitude of declarations on these pages to the lovely specimens adorning the walls of my home, which unfortunately mostly collect dust these days. Whenever the opportunity presents itself, a trip though some recent guitar music is always pleasure to undertake, so today, a first installment of what I am planning to be a multi-part set of (mostly) freely improvised solo and duo guitar recordings of recent vintage, in no particular order except, solos then duos, and then we'll see!

 

Marcelo Dos Reis - Life ... Repeat! (Miria Records, 2024)

Life ... Repeat! is Portuguese guitarist Marcelo Dos Reis' third solo album and on it he takes us on a meditative journey. The first track 'Pulse' is a tonal excursion from the origins of it's life - a slowly repeating note that becomes a background drone. Melodic lines are introduced, small repetitious figures, fleet fingered filigrees and impulsive rhythmic jolts. Eventually, a swelling vocal line begins accompanying what sounds like a violin but must be the result of his prepared guitar. Wordless vocals then envelope the guitar in a mysterious gossamer web. Halfway through the tune, the voice is gone and attention is given to a evolving melodic idea. Quick passages erupt, burn quick and bright and spark other ideas. Sometimes it is messy, other times crisp and clean, and through it runs a rhythmic melody that provides the connective tissue. Intensity builds, but never spills over, instead it swells with breath and depth and after nearly a half-hour, quietly dissipates. 

 

The other tracks are shorter at an average of 7-minutes each, and all fully developed ideas themselves. The second track, "Rhythmical Throbbing,' takes a more dense approach. The guitar certainly sounds "prepared," notes warble slightly de-tuned, accompanied by a rattle of something striking the strings of his clean toned electric guitar. The track 'Single Vibration' follows with what sounds like an overly prepared guitar - so much that the guitar strings that are more like the quickly muted tones of an oud. Its impact is hypnotic. Closing track "Burst of Sound' is the loveliest of the songs. It's melody rises over a thrumming background colored with chord tones. It, like the preceding tracks, also seems to rise with an organic and intrinsic impulse.

 

Life...Repeat! is an engrossing dive deep into a meditative space. Over the course of the recording, simple ideas are layered, creating an affecting atmosphere. 

 

Chuck Roth - Document 1 (Relative Pitch, 2024)

 

I listen with a certain fascination to NYC based guitarist Chuck Roth. His music is pure sound, the sound of the un-effected, unprepared guitar. It's in a sense an unfettered guitar, in that he is playing it without regard to the structures and tones usually associated with a guitar. As I was listening, I thought of Derek Bailey's work re-envisioning the instrument and after pulling out Bailey's 1971 Solo Guitar, Volume 1, I still do think that there is a nascent connection in the divine plink plonk, but that's as far as I feel confident to make such a comparison. Regardless, there is plenty on Document 1 to keep us occupied.

 

Suffice to say, there are no melodic hooks to be found here, it's mostly arrhythmic striking of strings and a disciplined kind of chaos. This well practiced touch of randomness guides Roth's hands as he presses, pulls and pushes sounds out of his crackling, dry-toned electric guitar. There are a number of moments where a run of normal sounding notes provides a grounding for the listener, lean in closer and one starts to intuit a logical flow to the textured play. 

 

If you are a fan of the guitar, Document 1 is an excellent exploration of its sounds and possibilities, compelling and pure. 

 

Luciana Bass - Desatornillándonos (Relative Pitch, 2024)

 

Labelmates with Roth, and writers of each others liner notes, Argentinian guitarist Luciana Bass is very much an explorer too, but whereas Roth seemed to really pull apart the guitar itself, Bass's focus is on song and sound. 

 

Starting with opening track 'Blind Willie (for Sonny Sharrock),' Bass greets the listener with a song that slowly opens like a flower. It's a little worn, but the conventional beauty is still recognizable in its blues drenched petals, its structure embodying a lovely rawness. The next one though, 'Arco y Flecha,' lets go of any such structure and revels in pure sounds. The guitar is the source, but this is not an exploration of the sounds of the instruments as much as it an exploration of sounds themselves. On the next track 'Blues for Pipo,' however, we find ourselves back in the land of song. A thumping bass note undergirds open tuned chords and a slide driven melody. There's a bit of wildness towards the end of the track before it segues into 'Voces de Violeta,' which features a full on striking of chords and a thin, distorted tone that offers a lone melodic line straight through. 

 

A trio of back-to-back tracks in the later half of the album stand out. First, on 'Echoes for Ornette,' after a quickly passing rock chord, Bass plays a melodic line, fast paced and circular, adorned with shards of chords providing unexpected harmonic movement. Then on 'Revisiting Heitor's Prelude,' a haunting melody is laced with traces of Villa-Lobos, and on 'Alyer's Ghost,' she defiantly distills pieces of the saxophonist's signature melodies. 

 

There is a whole lot packed into the album's dozen short tracks. The musical contrasts on Desatornillándonos make for a true gem for the guitar music collector. 

 

 

Ava Mendoza - The Circular Train (Palilalia, 2024)

A heavyweight among the avant-rockers, NYC's Ava Mendoza seems to know how to hit all the right notes. Here on the Free Jazz Blog, we've covered her work from her formative Unnatural Ways groups to her recent collaboration in Blll Orcutt's guitar quartet. Along the way we have also taken note of her previous solo work as well as her delectable duo with violinist gabby fluke-mogul. On Circular Train, we find the guitar slinger riding alone, sharing a set of music that she has been refining for over a decade. 

 

The Circular Train features Mendoza's work as both as an instrumentalist and singer-songwriter, though making a distinction between the two isn't really necessary, as all of these tracks tell a story in some way. Opening things up is 'Cypress Crossing,' which begins with a slight, distorted power chord and then slides into a desert-tinged lonesome-landscape double-stopped melodic line. The style suits - it's tough but accessible, it's new while familiar, and from this base, Mendoza evokes good cinema. 'Pink River Dolphins' is the first of the two songs with lyrics. The start has the listener deep in a bluesy morass, a strong chord structure supports the tune as Mendoza sings "make a sound, it comes back around." The tune opens up into improvised territory with Mendoza filling the space with questioning lines and energetic strumming. 

 

While there is sonic connective tissue through her reverb-laden and rusty wire tone, each tune exudes something unique. 'Ride to Cerro Rico' has moments of classical guitar in it's churning approach and 'Dust From the Mines' is a subdued shredder that manages a tonal super nova. The other vocal tune, 'The Shadow Song' is an interesting take on our negative-light companion, though it seems to be more about a tussle with karma. Capping off the recording is a the blues/folk tune 'Irene Goodnight,' which Mendoza pulls off with a raw entropic cool. 

 

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Marek Pospieszalski Octet & Zoh Amba - Never Again, Again and Again

Not quite sure when or how today's video came over our transom, but it seems like a pretty good metaphor for how it's feeling these days. A meditative view of a burning world.

Video by Wojciech Rusin 

Music by: Marek Pospieszalski - soprano & tenor saxophone, clarinet, flute & tape; Zoh Amba - tenor saxophone; Piotr Chęcki - tenor & baritone saxophone; Tomasz Dąbrowski - trumpet; Tomasz Sroczyński - viola; Szymon Mika - electric guitar & acoustic guitar; Grzegorz Tarwid - piano; Max Mucha - double bass; Qba Janicki - drums & soundboard 

 More here.

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