Lawrence Casserley at 85

Photos by Charlie Watkins

Lawrence Casserley has been a pioneer of electronics in improvised music, particularly through his development of the Signal Processing Instrument. To celebrate Lawrence’s 85^th year, Charlie Watkins sat down with him to discuss a few records which have been particularly important to him and the events he has planned for 2026.

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By Charlie Watkins

I meet Lawrence at his home studio in Oxford. The already small room is made even smaller by the books, CDs and audio equipment lining each wall. There are three computers, one of which is the Signal Processing Instrument (SPI), another displaying a book manuscript Lawrence is working on, and the third with various audio files open. It’s a fitting setting: even in his 85 ^th year, Lawrence is still full of ideas and as hardworking as ever. Before we’re even sitting down, he is already explaining to me how the SPI works, and I rush to start recording before I miss anything.

The first album Lawrence and I discuss is Solar Wind (1997), which he recorded at STEIM whilst developing the SPI. He explains to me how the record came about: ‘I had three weeks there [at STEIM]. Evan [Parker] was there, not all the time, but most of the time. And Barry Guy joined us for the last part.

‘After a couple of days of just getting going, Evan said “Whenever we play, we switch the recorder on,” and so we had all this stuff, lots of stuff. Sometimes I'd say to him, “Look, I've got to do some programming, I've got an idea,” so he'd go off for a walk, or practice, or do the crossword, and then I’d say “Come on, we're ready.” That's how the CD came about.’

Lawrence tells me how those early sessions at STEIM were a pivotal moment in the development of the SPI. ‘A lot of that original structure of the instrument is still here. I've tweaked various stuff and added bits, added things and taken things away, but the basic structure and the way it works was established at that time. The current version has been pretty much stable for about 10 years, so I finally stopped developing it and started learning to play it! Michel Waisvisz [STEIM’s artistic director] said to me “There comes a stage when you've got to stop changing stuff and just learn how to play it really well.”’

Solar Windwasn’t Lawrence’s first foray into live electronics. He dropped out of Columbia University to study music instead, and his first composition with live processing was in 1969, during his postgraduate studies at the Royal College of Music. ‘My composition teacher at the time was Herbert Howells, who was quite a conservative. But he was really interested in what I was doing and he was very, very smart and very good. At the end of the year, I came into the lesson and he said, “I've had a letter about this electronic music course [with Tristram Cary]. I've put you down for it, of course.” That kind of encouragement was really good.’

Even in those early years, as Lawrence started to utilise electronic processing in his compositions, he had a clear vision for how he wanted to be using electronics in live performance. ‘I got this idea: I wanted an electronic instrument that was like playing the cello or something, “my instrument” in that sense. It just took 20 years for the technology to catch up! When I finally got there, I was working with people like Barry Guy, who had such a physical way of playing, and I said, “I want to play electronics like that.”’

Although there was already an improvisatory element in his early compositions, Solar Wind was really Lawrence’s entrance onto the improvised music scene. Thirty years on, I ask Lawrence how he feels about the album now. ‘It was a remarkable thing in its way. I'm certainly not ashamed of it. The whole thing gelled, and Evan was so supportive of the whole thing; that was sort of the catalyst that made it happen. It’s a very special CD. I rate it as one of the best things I've done.’

Lawrence consistently describes his duo work as what he is most proud of. ‘You can get much more involved in the integration between the player and the processing. When I work with more people, it becomes a bit more diffused; this sort of really tight, close integration comes best in duos, and some of the trios.’ That certainly comes across on his album with Philipp Wachsmann, Garuda (2016). ‘I think Garuda is quite possibly the best thing I've ever done. First of all, Phil is so amazing. The range of his playing and the range of his experience is very, very large. And his thinking is very deep, too. He always produces such fantastic material for me to work with. Again, we worked over several days, recording different kinds of things in different ways. I play some percussion as well and sometimes the percussion is processed with his sounds, and other times it's just the violin. It was a very rich sound palette that we had and we worked a long time on it and I think we formed a very special sort of integration. He inspires great things.’

Listening to Garuda, it’s clear that both musicians are having a lot of fun. I ask Lawrence how he understands the role of ‘play’ in music that can often be quite serious. ‘I don't think serious and playful are very far apart. Like a lot of things, they’re different sides of the same coin, and all these things are part of life. If you can't have fun, then part of your life is missing. And it's the same with the music, if you can't have fun, part of the music is missing.

‘Music is an expression of life. And I think for me it almost is life. It's a lot of other things as well, but music is kind of the core of everything.’

Finally, we discuss a more recent recording, Corps et Biens: Hommage à Robert Desnos (2025) with the vocalist Jean-Michel Van Schouwburg. Lawrence has worked extensively with vocals over the years, including his own; I ask whether there is a reason he keeps choosing to work with vocals. ‘The voice is very interesting because there's so much you can do with it. It's so flexible. The work I did with [performance poet] Bob Cobbing back in the 70s and 80s was a very crucial part of my life because it was Bob who really taught me to be a performer. I didn't have a way to be a performer – I wanted to be, but I didn't have an instrument that served the purpose yet. Bob pointed me towards using what there was to perform with.’

One of Lawrence’s early works was a piece called 15 Shakespeare kaku, which was a setting of poems Bob had written for the Globe Playhouse Trust. ‘He took the letters of Shakespeare's name, cut them up in different ways and stuck them all in different shapes, and he would use these as source material for vocalization. I recorded several different versions and used small amounts of pitch change and a bit of ring modulation and things like that.’

That early example of using electronics to process the voice feels a million miles away from what Lawrence and Jean-Michel are doing together now, a relationship which has developed over many years. ‘When you work with somebody for a long time there are things that seem almost permanent, but then there are other things that are always renewing themselves. If you stop renewing yourselves it becomes difficult to do any more, or you find that people move in different directions. I think that's more or less what happened with me and Evan. We've gone in different directions: it was fantastic what we were able to do while we were working together, it just came to a stage where it sort of didn't happen anymore, which is the way of things.’

In some ways, Lawrence has had a very consistent approach since he started playing improvised music, which he recognises as he looks back on his early recordings. ‘Just after we got back from STEIM, Barry [Guy] booked Gateway Studios at Kingston, and we recorded Dividuality , which is really excellent, and it kind of got lost. A little while ago, somebody said to me, ‘This is a really great CD,’ and I'd more or less forgotten about it. And actually, a lot of the things I was doing then, I can see the seeds of what went into [Evan Parker’s] Electro-Acoustic Ensemble. That's really where it begins.’ But at the same time, the need to ‘renew himself’ is clear; Lawrence has never stopped learning. ‘At the beginning I was a bit nervous about how it all worked, whether it was going to work, and how I could do it. It's very different to the way I function now. I'm much freer in how I do stuff. It’s partly self-confidence, feeling more in control, understanding the instrument so much better.’

At the end of our chat, Lawrence tells me about his plans for his 85 ^th year. He’s starting with three concerts at St Alban's church hall in east Oxford. ‘It’s a very nice space: quite intimate but big enough. The first one is on Tuesday 7 April with Emil Karlsen, the Norwegian percussionist. We had a CD out on Bead last year, Aspects of Memory . The second one will be on Tuesday 21 April with Hannah Marshall. We've long wanted to do some duo work; I worked with her previously in a trio with Alison Blunt. The third one is a very nice quartet with Dominic Lash, Massimo Magee and Phil Marks: we’ve just released an album called Livingry from a concert we did in early October at the Hundred Years Gallery. That will be on Tuesday 28 April. And Hannah and I are working towards putting something out, so they're very current things.

‘For my actual birthday, tenth of August, I'm planning to have the wonderful trio, Valid Tractor , with Pat Thomas and Dominic Lash, and Paul Lytton is coming over from Belgium to do a duo. Hopefully there will also be a quartet at the end of that.

‘Later that month, I'm hoping to get the Spanish composer and performer, Llorenç Barber, with his bell tree. Martin Mayes is coming over from Italy, a French horn and alphorn player. He will be a special guest with HyperYak , a quartet I have played with for 25 years. I want to have a concert with Jean-Michel Van Schouwburg and Viv Corringham. We were planning to do a trio in 2020, which got overtaken by COVID. Two wonderful vocalists but a really interesting contrast. For that concert I'm hoping we'll have Harri Sjöström as well. He very rarely comes to England, he hasn't been here for around 10 years, so it would be lovely to have him. The other one I want to do is some of my early electronic work contrasted with improvised electronics, with Martin Hackett.’

It’s an impressive number of concerts to organise, especially at 85. But Lawrence seems excited to be sharing his music. ‘Most of these concerts will be on a pay what you can basis. People should be encouraged to come and enjoy the music and there's no pressure to pay lots of money. I want people to enjoy the music.’

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For more information on Lawrence Casserley’s 85 ^th birthday celebrations, keep an eye on Lawrence’s social media or on the Oxford Improvisers website: oxfordimprovisers.com

Christian Pouget – Maelström for improvisers (Films UtôpïK, 2025)

By Paul Acquaro

A maelstrom ... "a powerful whirlpool in the sea or a river" or "a situation or state of confused movement or violent turmoil" ... pick your definition or take both as you dive into the pool of riches that French film director Christian Pouget mixes together in a rich amalgam of sound and image. Featuring the music of 22 musicians from America to Europe to Asia, Pouget lets their own words and brilliant selections of solo playing in choice environments explore and explain improvisation. 

 

About two-thirds through the film French saxophonist Sakina Abdou explains that when she realized that she had a connection to free jazz - and wanted to be a part of it - she had to ask what it meant it to do so, now. It's different today than it was when it began, she says, a 'whole different utopia.' No, we do not get a an answer, rather we cut to seeing and hearing Abdou playing freely, but tonally, along a stream with a overpass behind her. Her tones echo out of the tunnel that the stream is passing through. Perhaps its symbolic, perhaps it is just where she is playing.

 

Maelstrom moves like this. From the start we are thrown into a qualitative research study with only an implied research question. It begins, for example, with jazz maverick, French saxophonist Daunik Lazro talking about survival as an artist in an unforgiving world, to questions of perception and being perceived by Abdou, to discussions about the variety of sound from Japanese pianist Sakoto Fujji, who posits that her country features the extremes of music - and then goes on to perform a solo piece that is spacious and abstract as well as dense and urgent.

 

Setting plays a sumptuous role. We see Lazro playing in a sort of junkyard, surrounded by the husks of discarded camping trailers, invoking the spirit and sounds of Albert Ayler on his saxophone. Later, Roberto Ottaviano blows his soprano sax while walking along a wall of sun bleached stones, like the horn is providing orientation through echolocation. Then there is Adbou playing near an urban stream, providing a juxtaposition between nature flow and mankind's structures. The most playful, and perhaps climax of imagery, is trumpeter Susana Santos Silva improvising amongst and with the macabre mechanical creatures making musical chaos in sculptor Daniel Depoutot's Strasbourg workshop. It is all rather visually striking and metaphorically compelling.

 

Throughout the film, the artists providing snippets of observation or insights gained over their years of working in the world of improvised music. The themes connect subtly - there is no title screen with the theme of say "COMMUNICATION" in bold block lettering to ground the conversation, rather, the words touch loosely on themes that shift over the course of the film, and in the end, leave an impression of the values and commonality of uncommon music making.

 

The film is one to relish both for it's imagery and the solo pieces that each musician performs - they are both exemplars of their individual styles and rich in emotion. 

 

Watch the trailer here. 

Full list of artists featured in the film:
Satoko Fujii, Gerry Hemingway, Isabelle Duthoit, Evan Parker, Susana Santos Silva, Daniel Depoutot, Kahil El Zabar, Daunik Lazro, Joe Morris, Mat Maneri, Joëlle Léandre, Christiane Bopp, Betty Hovette, Sonia Sanchez, Agusti Fernandez, Clara Levy, Roberto Ottaviano, Emanuele Parrini, Silvia Bolognesi, Sakina Abdou, Raymond Boni, and Benat Achiary.

Terrie Ex - Flaps (Terp, 2026)

By Eyal Hareuveni

Dutch guitarist Terrie Ex (aka Terrie Hessels), one of the founders of The Ex, has no formal schooling as a guitarist, no killer riffs or licks, and no technique that is identified with him. He still plays the same, almost fifty-year-old Guild electric guitar, his first guitar, which he bought before ever touching a guitar, just because Peter Hammill has the same one (and Hammill was not impressed by the gesture). Now heavily battered, stained with blood and rust, after being hit by sticks, screwdrivers, knives, and other objects, or pushed into the ground, pillars, and amplifiers (and also towards too eager photographers), it has only five strings. Ex’ Ethiopian friends call this guitar Lucy, after the skeleton of a 3.2 million-year-old hominin woman discovered in Ethiopia.

Ex played solo, free improvised concerts since the early 1990s, and performed (and recorded) many duo performances with fellow Dutch improvisers like Han Bennink and Ab Baars or with Ken Vandermark, Paal Nilssen-Love, Kaja Draksler, and Thurston Moore. But only now, the 71-year-old Ex finally releases his debut solo album, Flaps. Flaps is the name Ex’ daughter, singer-songwriter Lena Hessels, has called him since she was an infant. This family affair features cover artwork by Ex’ partner. Emma Fischer, and the album was released by Ex’ label, Terp.

The 48-minute Flaps distills the essence of Ex. It rarely corresponds with the avant-Ethio punk grooves of The Ex, and has very few rhythmic attacks, but it is unpredictable, equipped with sharp instincts, free and wild imagination, and tons of experience (only The Ex played 2060 concerts since its foundation in 1979). Ex plays the electric guitar as if it were an elastic, experimental material that he can shape and mould its poetic, noisy, and thorny sounds. It captures Ex’ stream-of-consciousness beautifully, exploring fleeting moods and eccentric sounds and soundscapes without attachment to any of these, suggesting an insightful glimpse into the abstract film in Ex’ head. No one plays like Ex, totally possessed by the art of the moment. At times, Flaps sounds as if his guitar has a mind and will of its own. Only very few can offer such an arresting, risk-taking, spontaneous, and free sonic journey.

Rempis/Adasiewicz/Corsano - Dial Up (Aerophonic, 2025)

 

By Brian Earley

 

Dial Up, Aerophonic Records’s release from December 26, 2025, encounters listeners with ambition and possibility. What begins with two unassuming vibe hits on the album’s opener “Cutups” from Jason Adasiewicz soon forms the melodic and ensemble motif for the outing. Drummer Chris Corsano responds in kind with two unassuming drum hits of his own. Dave Rempis waits, and when he sounds his first notes they arrive in a different key than the vibraphonist established at the work’s opening. The entire date, or rather dates (the album is culled from two live recordings in January and February 2025), features this collaboration of spontaneous negotiation.

An entirely improvised set of pieces, the work finds itself at home with most Aerophonic recordings of Rempis. While this album displays group spontaneity and an increasing build to a musical nexus of volume and intensity, this work is remarkable for its push-pull series of emotional exchanges. When I try to remember what January 2025 felt like, I recall tremendous uncertainty. For me, this record is a document of feeling: it holds for posterity what it felt like to be alive in the United States as the country slid into transition.

At the center of the album lies its longest work, “One Dollar Cheaper.” Adasiewicz opens calmly, playing a soft but insistent pattern of open voicings. Rempis enters on tenor, and soon is hollering, his saxophone reaching towards some yet unheard realm where all sound bursts into shattered infinity. But the horn soon flutters notes and exits, leaving Adasiewicz and Corsano to play a duet of traditional Eastern world Dixieland swing, as though such a thing existed. Mystery is here, but so is humor. When Dave returns, he forwards this joy and soon is playing rising sequences of five notes that sound like the voice of hope itself. However, within moments Jason’s vibes begin to fall in single notes and Corsano’s drums gather a slow-rolling thunder. Around the 8:30 mark Rempis is screaming over and over again, thrusting at the barriers of sonic dynamics. It is the sound of pain. The music wobbles and rights itself until it seems to stop entirely, but Corsano enters with washes of cymbals, Adasiewicz plays one and three note patterns, and Rempis rises from the ashes to swirl in harmonious unity with the others. This time there is unity only in lamentation. All is not well in the world. The song enters its darkest night of grief before Rempis continues walking, walking until new sonic landscapes suggest at least other possibilities, if not the promise of new life.

Of course Rempis and company are not actually making any of these emotions; they are producing only sound. But how wonderful it is to live in a universe where vibrations on the air produce and mimic what is central to feeling alive. It is exactly what we needed in early 2025, and it is a balm for the rising 2026.

The album is available artist direct at https://www.aerophonicrecords.com/dialup.

 

Adam O’Farrill – For These Streets (Out Of Your Head Records, 2025)

By Don Phipps

Looking at the landscape of modern jazz, one marvels at the abundance of musicians who not only perform spontaneously at a high level, but who write the kind of compositions found on Adam O’Farrill’s double album For These Streets . O’Farrill creates an ethereal and fascinating work or art that blends dreamy landscapes, holographic voicings, and poetic abstractions.

The magic of this album, though, cannot be solely ascribed to O’Farrill’s tunes or top-notch playing. Of near equal importance was his choice of bandmates, many of whom are artists of the highest caliber. This group consists of Mary Halvorson (guitar), Patricia Brennan (vibraphone), David Leon (alto saxophone and flute), Kevin Sun (tenor saxophone and clarinet), Kalun Leung (trombone and euphonium), Tyrone Allen II (double bass) and Tomas Fujiwara (drums). Is it any wonder why a collaboration of such talent might produce such incredible music?

There are two masterpieces – the “Speeding Blots of Ink” and “Late June.” Both approach the 10-minute mark in length, but what an exquisite 10 minutes! “Blots” opens with a syncopated and alternating trombone, trumpet, and bass. As the music develops, the musicians carve out a distinct space. For example, Fujiwara enters with light tapping on the snare, Halvorson starts up with rolling chords and progresses with rapid abstract fingerings above Brennan’s dissonant retorts. And, as on “Swimmers,” O’Farrill creates trumpet arcs that slide along high notes as if pirouetting on ice. The number evolves until every corner is filled with sound. As “Blots” concludes, there’s a sense of awe - like looking up at the night sky – marveling at the stars and their billion-year-old twinkles.

“Late June” offers warm abstract voicings chock full of intricate interplay. The piece highlights Halvorson’s gentle guitar plucks, Brennan’s vibraphone caresses, Fujiwara’s subtle cymbal play, and Allen’s rapid bowing and down low bass solo. As the number progresses, Leon and Sun’s saxes play off against O’Farrill’s trumpet, and Leung joins on trombone with a staggered line that blends perfectly with the sweet dissonant chorus of brass and saxes. Sun’s sensual sax solo sounds like a sunny day at the beach. And Halvorson’s twangy picks towards the end generate a crazy diamond shine (apologies to Pink Floyd).

While all the artists deserve applause, fans of Halvorson and Brennan should simply not pass up this chance to hear their contributions. Halvorson adopts a balalaika style on “And So On,” brings a little Narciso Yepes flamenco flurry behind O’Farrill’s sweet solo on “Streets,” and generates heat with her plucks and chords on “Blots.” Brennan’s solo and pedal work on the short “The Break Had Not Yet Come” is exquisite. Listen to how she takes over on “Migration.” And her playful back and forth with Halvorson and Allen above Fujiwara’s all over drumming on “Swimmers” and the aforementioned “Break,” and with flautist Leon on “Nocturno, 1932,” reveal a dreamy and impressionistic side to her playing – helped along by her delightful use of the pedal. And when Halvorson and Brennan join forces, for example, towards the end of “Migration,” or on “Late June,” there’s magic in the air.

One feels, with every tune, every phrase and every solo, the nuanced guidance of O’Farrill. This is his creation, and his masterful contributions and trumpet/flugelhorn explorations offer up a memorable experience. This is his world, a world that the listener can enjoy again and again. Highly recommended!

Yellow Belle Quartet - Yellow Belle (s/r, 2025)

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By Sammy Stein 

Hugo Costa is a Portuguese saxophonist based in the Netherlands. He plays in projects ranging from modern jazz to free improvisation, such as Real Mensh, The Garuda Trio, The Land Over Water Trio, Yellow Belle Quartet, The Rotterdam Kinematic Ensemble, and others. He has performed and recorded with musicians, including William Parker, Rodrigo Pinheiro, Raoul van der Weide, Marta Warelis, Alexander Frangenheim, Sofia Borges, Han-Earl Park, and toured extensively in Europe and Japan.

In the Yellow Belle Quartet, Costa is joined by musicians from Barcelona: Clara Lai on piano, Alex Reviriego on double bass, and Vasco Trilla on drums and percussion.

Lai is a pianist and composer who plays multiple genres and is active in the jazz scene in Barcelona, leading ensembles and collaborating with many prominent musicians such as Oriol Roca, Àlex Reviriego, Ferran Fages, Albert Cirera, and more. She has released a variety of recordings on both national and international record labels.

Àlex Reviriego is a member of Phicus, Tholos Gateway, the Liba Villavecchia Trio, and The Devil, Probably, as well as being a solo artist. He has participated in a number of formations of contemporary, improvised, and experimental music. His ferocious, angular style can be heard in dozens of albums released on various European labels as well as in different live settings, ranging from solo, small formations to orchestral work. He runs the experimental tape label Hera Corp.

Vasco Trilla has recorded more than one hundred albums, ranging from free improvisation, to progressive rock and ambient music. He has released albums on Clean Feed Records, Cuneiform Records, NoBusiness, Not Two, and others, and collaborated with Jamaaladeen Tacuma, Ra Kalam Bob Moses, Mars Williams, Patrick Shiroishi, Elliot Sharp, Steve Swell, and more. He has toured internationally and is one of the most in-demand voices of the European free improvised scene.

From the opening track, ‘Transient Moods,’ this album creates a sense of dialogue and connection between the musicians. On the opener, the bass line is subtle and relentless, with sax, percussion, and piano interceding in every conceivable space. The sax lines are melodious while the intricate percussive motifs create a sense of contrast and interact deftly with the piano. In the second half of the track, the mood changes to a reflective atmosphere, enhanced by the almost continuous bell sound in the percussion.

On ‘Soft Buttons’, the sax line meanders across a background of sonic mesh that upholds, reflects, and enhances, creating a track of many parts, including interactive reflection and an intriguing to and fro between the bell-like percussion and the piano that emerges under the sax line to create an uplifting, deeply engaging track. The lightness of the percussion contrasts wonderfully with the depth of sonic texture created by the bass and sax.

‘Dissonancias’ is an explorative track with spiritual essences, while ‘Gracia’ is introduced with a solo from Costa, into which the other musicians drop with delightful gusto, creating an interactive soundscape. The percussion crescendos throughout the number, adding ever more intricate rhythmic patterns that, teamed with the rapid-fire sax provided by Costa, make the track completely immersive. From its opening to the quietude of the ending, this track is five and a half minutes of full-bodied, unleashed free playing.

‘A Lingua dos Passaros’ (Language of The Birds) is aptly named as the ensemble creates a percussive-led, conversive piece akin to an awakening of many different types of sound. Trilla makes full use of the deeper drum sounds to create an atmosphere of strength and power which underlies the track, offset by intricate piano and steadfast bass. ‘Yellow Belle’ closes the album and is the clarion call of the group, encompassing each musician in both solo and support roles, intertwining, and reacting as appropriate, finishing this involved musical conversation that is as relevant to the listener as it is evidently to the musicians.

Costa told me about this recording, “I wanted to play with Vasco Trilla because he's a unique drummer. I've been listening to his records, especially those with Mars Williams as a sax-drums duo, which I love. I invited Vasco to play as a duo and went to Barcelona, where he's based. At the same time, I invited Clara and Alex to play as a quartet. They are both amazing musicians. It was a perfect opportunity to play with all these musicians I admire. We went to the studio and did a session where we played together for the first time as a quartet. The music is dynamic, with everyone listening to each other. There was a great energy between everyone, with each musician bringing their unique approach. We were so pleased with the result that we decided to release it. I also recorded a duo with Vasco, to be released soon.”

Costa has brought together a remarkable set of musicians. They have achieved an album that embodies melody and includes free improvisation and musical understanding that speaks loudly to the listener. The charisma of this ensemble is enchanting, and the music superb.

....seeing the way the mole tunnels...

James McKain (sax), Damon Smith (bass) and Weasel Walter (drums) produced one of the best albums of last year with "....seeing the way the mole tunnels...". It was a ferocious bit of free jazz mixed with some punk rock attitude. Here they are in concert, joined by Ipek Eginli (piano) and Alex Cunningham (violin). 

Peter Evans' Being and Becoming - Ars Ludica (More is More, 2025)

By Charlie Watkins 

Peter Evans is one of those tireless musicians whose projects are always dazzlingly original. His band Being and Becoming is no exception, and their newest release, Ars Ludicra, is a fantastic example of Evans’s creative ambition. Combining hip-hop grooves, avant-garde melodies and free improvisation, as well as a healthy dose of electronics, this record is vibrant, modern and infectiously groovy. It is also, it is worth saying, quite different from their previous release, Ars Memoria, which was much more stripped back in comparison to this album’s bold energy.

The band features Evans on trumpet(s), electronics and piano, Joel Ross on vibraphone, synth and percussion, Nick Jozwiak on bass and synth and Michael Shekwoaga Ode on drums. The above might imply that it is a heavily electronic album, but the electronics are mostly used for their tonal qualities. There is some inventive post-production, especially towards the end of Pulsar, which is done really nicely and lifts this album to a whole new level, marking a step forward from their previous release, which was perhaps more straightforwardly ‘jazz’ in its approach.

The album explodes open with Malibu, a furiously energetic composition driven by a simple repeated bass riff. This simple structure allows the whole band to really open out, especially Evans and Ode, whose powerful drumming appears to maintain its energy from the start to the end of the record. The second and third tracks, Pulsar and Hank’s, are characterised by similar riffs, again driven by Jozwiak’s pulsing bass. Throughout the record, it is Jozwiak’s playing that keeps everything grounded whilst the other musicians soar over the top. Evans is of course a true trumpet virtuoso, and he shows this off in impressive fashion on Pulsar. Like Malibu, Pulsar ends by moving into a hip-hip drum break accompanied by a detuned vibraphone riff, over which Evans continues to soar.

The third track, Hank’s, although still characterised by the same repeated bass lines, moves in a new direction. It has more harmonic space than the two preceding numbers, and a brighter energy. Evans is on pocket trumpet on this number, reaching even higher than previously, and he finds himself trading with Ross’s impressive vibraphone playing. Of the whole album, this track is perhaps the most conventional in structure and content, a somewhat typical contemporary jazz tune, although again the final minute transitions into a deep groove to conclude things.

My Sorrow is Luminous is a welcome respite on the record. This track, a cover of a song by the Russian folk-punk singer Yanka Dyagileva, is tender and subtle, yet without losing any of the energy of the first three tracks. Evans improvisation on this track is mind-blowing in its virtuosity, and Ode goes absolutely wild alongside him. The second half of the track is more spacious, although Ode continues to attack his drumset with an impressive force. I quite enjoyed the energy Ode brings to the record, but I can see that some people may find his approach a little on the heavy side – I note that he has now been replaced by Tyshawn Sorey, so it will be interesting to see how he affects the sound of the band.

The final track, Images, is the most symphonic of the set. It includes Alice Teyssier on various flutes to provide some rich harmony, and doesn’t feature any improvisations. It brings things to land in a way that is well needed after the relentless pace of the previous tracks, and rounds this short album off nicely.

All of the tracks are relatively short and fast-paced, which gives the album a good sense of direction; it certainly never feels like it’s dragging things out for too long. Each track follows a near identical structure, starting with a driving riff, moving into abstract, high energy solos, and finishing with a dance-style breakdown at the end, proving the maxim: if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it! The straightforward structure keeps things moving nicely, providing plenty of variety even during these short tracks. The use of bass and drums manages to successfully combine contemporary jazz with experimental hip-hop, providing an exciting space for Ross and Evans to work from, and pulsating with infectious energy without falling into cliché. Definitely worth your time.

Available from Bandcamp:

Ravenna Escaleira - Vagabondage

By Hrayr Attarian

Portuguese multi-instrumentalist Ravenna Escaleira is also a poet and visual artist. All these aspects of her creativity are evident in her debut, Vagabondage, which draws inspiration from her urban wanderings. On it, she performs on electric bass, saxophones, and piano. The four improvised tracks that comprise the record are provocative and lyrical, ranging from the impressionistic to the abstract.

On the multifaceted “Girl Crazy”, Escaleria lays down a dense, resonant backdrop with her bass. These refrains ebb and flow in a dynamic pattern, forming a sonic landscape that shifts in mood and timbre. Over this rhythmic framework, her soprano saxophone tells a complex, captivating tale. Like an epic poem, the interwoven melodies convey a range of motifs. From an eastern-inspired, mystically shrouded ones to others replete with raw, throbbing wails, and from Zen-like serenity to riotous fury.

“Fortress” that follows is a solo bass piece. Here, Escaleira uses simmering lines to build an expectant ambiance and paint an image of alternating vibrant and somber hues. It is simultaneously mesmerizing and stimulating. Meanwhile, on the relatively brief “Naked”, her crystalline, saxophone phrases shimmer like clear shards of glass. They are sharp, poignant, and memorable as they echo within silent pauses.

The recording closes with the cinematic “Fallen Angels”. Escaleira showcases her prowess on the piano that matches the superb command of her other instruments. The mellifluous, haunting musical tapestry she weaves is replete with percussive chords and a wistfully poetic sensibility. It can easily be the score of an intelligent and moving arthouse film.

This imaginative and brilliant album perfectly demonstrates Escaleira’s multifaceted artistry. Beyond the mastery of three different instruments, Esacaleira has imbued this work with a maturity that belies her age. Hence, Vagabondage is an auspicious start to a promising career. It also makes for a rewarding listening experience.

Jason Stein, Marilyn Crispell, Damon Smith, Adam Shead – Live at the Hungry Brain (Trost, 2025)

By Dan Sorrells

Famished minds no longer sated by spi-raling horn, one of last year's standout releases, can now feast upon Live at the Hungry Brain. Recorded the night before renowned pianist Marilyn Crispell entered the studio with the Midwest force of bass clarinetist Jason Stein, bassist Damon Smith, and drummer Adam Shead, Live at the Hungry Brain features the third of three concerts the quartet played in June 2023.

If antecedents help orient one to this music (more on that anon), Crispell’s presence—along with Smith’s place in a bass lineage that passes through Mark Dresser—makes it tempting to call up Anthony Braxton’s storied Forces in Motion quartet. This isn't really that. In terms of sheer brow-sweat and preternatural interaction, the music onLive at the Hungry Brainis more allied with Crispell's incursions into the Evan Parker/Barry Guy/Paul Lytton trio. Here, as there, she's a shining light settled into the very heart of an established trio's sound, backlighting its dense tangles from within, casting different shadows. But such comparisons are at best a makeshift compass. They'll get you pointed in a direction, but reveal little about what you'll find upon setting out.

"A Borderless Event" begins with Smith and Shead in an agile coalition, Smith deftly springing between arco and pizzicato. Shead's rapid patter can be reminiscent of those clattery Europeans like Lytton, but his assertive feeling of pulse often positions him as a more marked rhythmic goad. As Crispell and Stein enter, the group traffics in a dizzying array of ideas before winnowing into Stein's increasingly fretful solo, pierced by chiming piano chords. Crispell's chords soon fray, rapidly spilling notes, the pressure mounting until the rhythmic elements have superheated and Stein's dark looping calligraphy has transformed into glowing, Twombly-red coils. Even at its most unfettered, Stein's eloquence with the bass clarinet is remarkable. Spanning the breadth of its range, he rafts the complex timbre of his instrument over the piano's melodic swells and into the rich undercurrents of the bass and drums. On the shorter second piece, "Bone Eaten Up by Breathing," he finds a strong rapport with Smith as they trade lines through cascading piano and cymbals, Stein eventually stepping back to send the rhythm section along with Crispell's hypnotic arpeggios, beautiful and intense.

Music of this intensity, being played at this level, is possible not only because the approach provides a platform for spontaneity and virtuosity, but because it is a conduit for instruction. Here's where forebears return. It's hard to talk about music like Live at the Hungry Brainwithout them. Describing the music in the manner I just attempted falls short, but the players themselves are a reference—a living history—a genealogy of past selves setting expectations that they presently rework. Smith has made no secret of his belief in the importance of playing with "elders," and his formidable technique and instinct have been honed over decades of apprenticeship with experienced improvisers of every stripe—players exactly like Crispell (or Roscoe Mitchell, who has also joined the trio in performance). Likewise, Crispell has recently spoken of her deep love of playing with younger musicians who seek her collaboration; the conduit directs flow in both directions.

So, the resulting music is astonishing, slippery. It's novel, but not free of influence. It is a crucible. This influence extends beyond music and into engagements with abstract visual artists, poets, even practices of body and mind like those Milford Graves conveyed to his student Stein. Rarely do these things directly initiate the music. But, acknowledged—added later as song titles, liner notes, album art—they sound their own sort of resonance, expressing accord or juxtaposition that's beyond (or even before) fumbling attempts to speak of them. Like the visceral Cy Twombly paintings that grace the covers of the quartet's records, this music also lays bare the physical work that it essentially is. It's abstract not because it is inscrutable but because it remains largely ineffable, constituted wholly of but never adequately described by the gestures of its makers. Our fascination lies in this mysterious something emergent in the work, prone to dissolve when we focus our attention too keenly on the parts: just a mark on a canvas, the strike of a tom, a bow dragged across string. "Tear a mystery to tatters," Barthelme said, "and you have tatters, not mystery." Our hungry brains devour the likes of Live at the Hungry Brain, our ears drink in this vital music, the vitalizing talent of these musicians. But our mouths, agape, can't quite find the right words.

Heddy Boubaker (1963 - 2026)

Heddy Boubaker. Photo: wikipedia

By David Cristol

Improviser Heddy Boubaker passed away suddenly on January 19, from the same issue (aortic dissection) that had forced him to stop playing the saxophone in 2010 and artistically reinvent himself on electric bass and analog synthesizer. Boubaker was an unofficial prime mover in the Toulouse area, not only as a player in the many bands he took part in (let’s mention The End, Wet and Èch) but also as an organizer, notably via his monthly and often revelatory house concerts (at his family home dubbed « La Maison Peinte » aka The Painted House) during a period of ten years starting in 2004. Born in Marseille in 1963, with roots in Tunisia, Boubaker moved to Paris where he seriously began studying jazz and playing in various bands and genres before settling in Toulouse, where decisive encounters with saxophonists Marc Démereau and Michel Doneda led him to free improvisation. La Maison Peinte has welcomed Michel Doneda, Daunik Lazro, Nuch Werchowska, Gino Robair, Baloni [Joachim Badenhorst, Frantz Loriot, Pascal Niggenkemper], Jean-Luc Cappozzo, Anne Choquet, Henry Herteman, Laurent Avizou, Jack Wright, Hervé Pérez, Birgit Ulher and many others, and created the best possible atmosphere for audiences to listen... among the visual creations of Heddy’s wife Zehavite, covering every inch of the house. The Boubakers also launched the Un Rêve Nu label, whose collectible records (each cover is unique) combine improvised music with graphic design. As a musician, Heddy played and/or toured with Tony Marsh, Guillaume Viltard, Jean-Luc Guionnet, Eddie Prévost, Pascal Battus, Lê Quan Ninh, Mazen Kerbaj, Steve Beresford, Eugene Chadbourne, Miguel Garcia, Fabien Duscombs…

A deep thinker who put the freedom of sounds before that of the musician, in 2012 Heddy also founded the 50-strong improvised music ensemble F.I.L. (Fabrique d’Improvisation Libre) with pianist Christine Wodrascka, an ensemble supported by the music department of Toulouse university which provided a large rehearsal space and grand pianos, and which included old improvising hands Dominique Regef and Jean-Yves Evrard as well as young practitioners of the music.

Close friend and trumpeter Sébastien Cirotteau, states :

« His insatiable appetite, boundless energy, determination and joy in establishing connections made Heddy an indispensable pillar of the music community in Toulouse and far beyond. »

Heddy is survived by his life partner Zéhavite, three children (Tommy, Milan & Ella) and grandchildren. An online fundraising has been set up to help them deal financially with the situation: https://www.onparticipe.fr/c/IdXNoZna

Laura Ann Singh – Mean Reds (OOYH, 2025)

By Nick Ostrum

Since launching in 2018, Out of Your Head records has quickly emerged as a cornerstone label of the next wave of free jazzers, especially those circulating around New York. Mean Reds features a few of the label’s mainstays (and founders), Scott Clark on drums and Adam Hopkins on bass, as well as saxophonist John Lilley and trumpeter Bob Miller. More prominent in this session is the quintet’s leader and vocalist, Laura Ann Singh. A vocalist of many styles, she shone brightly on Clark’s 2023 Dawn & Dusk , which was one of her first recorded forays into this the freer musics. Mean Reds is her first headliner.

The first phrases of the opener, River, are a repeated four-note drift on trumpet, and light splatters of string and percussion. Then, Singh matches the now drafty trumpet lines with her proposition, “Maybe our love is a river.” From there, the song – and really the album – unfold into a series of imagist mediations and poetic propositions that link the human condition, nature, technology, and a range of other concerns both pressing and playful. Her lyrical style and delivery veers between the heyday jazz divas and a slightly less gruff Chrissie Hynde. Comparisons with Hannah Marks’ overlooked gem from 2023 Outsider, Outlier, also on OOYH, are also in order in those moments when Singh’s group taps its inner aggression and outrage and spill over into wails, declamations, and other noise.

Take one of the standouts, Monster. It is scorcher, which drags the listener through a storm as Singh repeats the question “Is this the American dream?,” a phrase which morphs in the second verse into “This is my American scream.” This is as much punk rock and raucous Björk as it is jazz. Toward the end, the song clarifies itself as an indictment of our current age of obsessive (and seemingly inescapable) petromodernity, as Singh asserts “The highway is a monster.” Here, of course, the highway is metaphor as well object, doubling as a warning about the suicidal direction the world seems to be veering. The backbeat is an insistent drum and bass staccato pulse that seems to repeat endlessly with just minor embellishments as the band breaks out into full fanfare around Singh’s proclamations.

Monster is just one among the variety Mean Reds presents. For the few punk bangers (Monster, She Said, the playful bedroom indie track Counting), there are smoky ballads that, even when at their most direct, are just distorted enough to sound subversive. As Strange as It Is is a fine example. It embraces Ornette’s harmolodics, if not the system itself then at least the feeling that comes through so powerfully in pieces such as What Reason Could I Give. In that, it soars. One other important note is the band. These guys can tear, but they rarely do. Instead, this album showcases their ability to play an incredible backing band. Never is there tension between musicians elbowing for space or filling the air with too much sound. They are stand-out in those moments when they do break out into bop runs and blares. But, in a sense, they stand out most by holding to the background and laying the solid but unassuming basis on which Singh can realize her vision. And what a colorful (or maybe just many perplexing and divergent shades of red?) and engaging vision it is.

Mean Reds is available as vinyl and download via Bandcamp:

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Zeena Parkins - Lament for the Maker (Relative Pitch Records, 2025)

 By Brian Earley

 

Presence requires intention, wakefulness, and awareness. Listeners give their attention over to music because they love this directed effort, but with serious music, presence is also requisite. Zeena Parkins’s most recent album for Relative Pitch Records, Lament for the Maker , is serious music, and this is no weakness. Parkins leans here into works that are as much about sound as they seem to be about loss.

Sound, physically speaking, involves pitch and frequency. Frequency. That is, it is always arriving, but also always leaving. Always vibrating away until the human body, no matter its intention, its wakefulness, can no longer detect it. It becomes its own lament as it passes out of the range of hearing and journeys from a world of perceived time into an infinite space with no time bound restrictions imposed upon it by human control.

If one did not know the circumstances involved around the making of this recording, one could still perceive the tension here between control and inevitable abandon. Zeena Parkins is the maker of the sound, as she plays her unconventional acoustic harp with electrified extended techniques using metal slides and bass bowing, but the works are a constant duet of harp and noise, in addition to the duet of composer and performer. Indeed, Parkins is listed as composer of only one of the pieces on this collection while three of her colleagues from Mills College, Laetitia Sonami, John Bischoff, and James Fei, “graciously agreed” (Parkins’s words) to honor the closing of the school by submitting compositions for harp and electronics. The institution, famed for its advocacy for gender and trans rights as much as for its innovations in arts and academics, closed in 2022 and, following economic decisions in higher education across the nation, was subsumed by a larger, more profitable entity. The closing of its music department ultimately resulted in Parkins departing, ending her tenure as Darius Milhaud Chair there, her close connections to students, teachers, and friends, and to a way of life she had established for thirteen years.

A representative experience for me here is my listening to “pluck,” composed by Bischoff and listed as the second work on the album. The work opens with traditional acoustic harp plucking. Open mid-range resonances alternate with high pitch tight plucking of strings. Time lingers as much as it attacks and abruptly ends. Shortly after the one minute mark, however, legato electronics rise and fall like a celeste being drained of fluid. After the three minute mark time itself is challenged in lengthy organ-like holdings of single and double tones. And, by eight minutes into the work, the piece feels entirely improvised by Parkins. Except she, of course, is using a score composed by another, and now must navigate a world where maintaining control is as essential as relinquishing that control. There appears to be no time signature, but even if there were, it would only offer a semblance of order placed over a human negotiation of time passing. After seventeen minutes the work ends with plucking, dampened, so that no pitch arises from Parkins’s strings at all. Sound finally has only frequency and disappears out of human perception into silence.

Lament is an intentional word choice. On December 5 of 2025, Parkins wrote on Instagram that her “sad farewell to Mills College is being released today. A heart wrenching one for me.” The album is more acceptance than resignation, however, as it ends with “berlin bedroom: littlefield feb.10.2024,” a time-stamped work that began in 2014 and is “ongoing.” Parkins struggles with “sonic limits…that are impossible to bend by design.” The work starts at 0:01 and concludes at 12:42, and its perceived sound does end along with the sound of human beings applauding, never to be assembled exactly the same again, but the frequencies generated here move outward forever into circumstances beyond even our dreams. 

 

Ralph Towner (1940 - 2026)

Ralph Towner at Jazzwerkstatt Peitz in 2020

By Paul Acquaro 

 

Saddened to learn about the passing of guitarist Ralph Towner over the weekend. Towner had a truly distinctive and influential voice on the acoustic guitar and in modern jazz. His use of the nylon-string and 12-String guitar was formative in style and always a pleasure to hear on recordings and especially in concert. To steal from my own review of My Foolish Heart (ECM, 2017), Towner's playing was a perfect blend of sophistication and irreverence to genre. Not really jazz, certainly not free jazz, and not classical either, his compositions lived comfortable between and outside of categorization. 

 

Though Towner is probably most well known for his work with the band Oregon, he also had a long and fruitful recording career with ECM. Some of my favorites recordings of his include the two duo recordings with John Abercrombie, Sargasso Sea (1976) and Five Years Later (1982), but even more so, Solstice (1975), his first as a leader of the group with saxophonist Jan Garbarek, bassist Eberhard Weber and drummer Jon Christensen. This recording, and its successor, Sounds and Shadows (1977), exemplify the best of ECM and his own approach, namely spacious, lyrical, and harmonically rich music.

 

Of course, Towner's work is far more complete than these few recordings and are all worth a visit, up to his last release, At First Light from 2023. In addition to his warm, narrative, and harmonically adventurous guitar playing, Towner also played piano, synthesizer, trumpet and French horn. However, it was really on guitar, in which he applied his classical training to create a unique mix of jazz, folk, classical and world music. 

 

Ralph Towner passed away on 18 January 2026 at age 85 in Rome.

Craig Taborn, Tomeka Reid, Ches Smith - Dream Archives (ECM, 2026)

By Don Phipps

While not adverse to playing inside, Craig Taborn has always been open to stretching out his vocabulary of jazz piano and employing edgy electronics in his creations. Take his work in the Aughts with Tim Berne. In the critically acclaimed Shell Game (Thirsty Ear 2001) and Science Friction (Screwgun 2002) Taborn used piano and electronics to expand the harmonic settings of Berne’s compositions. Later, in the 10s, he brought his ability to form engaging soundscapes to two acclaimed Michael Formanek recordings, The Rub and Spare Change (ECM 2010) and Small Places (ECM 2012).

Even earlier, Taborn worked with AACM alum Roscoe Mitchell’s Note Factory on the free jazz album Nine to Get Ready (ECM 1999) – his first recording with ECM. In addition to other works with Mitchell, he recorded Conversations IandConversationsII (both released on Wide Hive Records in 2014). Later in the decade there was his wonderful and lauded stream of consciousness collaboration with Kris Davis on Octopus (Pyroclastic Records, 2018). And it would be an oversight not to mention his insightful contribution to Dave Holland’s double album Uncharted Territories (Dare2 Records, 2018), where, in addition to Holland, he improvised with free jazz luminary Evan Parker and gifted drummer Ches Smith.

On Dream Archives (ECM 2026), he joins Tomeka Reid (cello) and Ches Smith (drums, vibraphone, percussion, and electronics) to form lines of transcendent beauty, bluesy abstractions, dynamic flows, and haunting subtleties. Taborn composed four of the tracks, and the remaining two are covers (written by the late greats Geri Allen (“When Kabuya Dances”) and Paul Motian (“Mumbo Jumbo”).

Building on a legacy is always a hurdle. But Taborn is up to the task. Take the early morning harbor setting which opens the first track, “Coordinates For The Absent.” The fog is lifting; boats are heading out to sea. The piano overtones are heard, and Reid adds rapid bowing as Smith generates electronic ditties and taps lightly on the vibraphone. Taborn asserts himself as the piece progresses. His precise wandering attacks, pedal-infused single notes, masterful strikes, and rolling arpeggios generate ethereal atmospherics.

Then there’s the free form “Feeding Maps To The Fire,” where Taborn employs both bluesy and classical idioms. His inquisitive rapid rotation and his gentle chordal abstractions sit atop Smith’s subtle background drumming and Reid’s bowing. Smith then takes the foreground – brushwork and adroit bass pedal, tom tom bounces, and rimshot strikes all provide color to the cycle.

The title cut, “Dream Archives,” has a staggered opening. Smith shines with his inventive vibraphone offerings. There’s a surreal effect – cranking electronic noises and Taborn’s leaky-faucet drip on the piano. The development extends outward to some unknown horizon. Are we in a dark labyrinth facing off against a Minotaur? Reid’s haunting subtleties blend with Taborn’s solo - the musical equivalent of staring into the darkness – the mind playing tricks. And “Enchant,” with its fairy tale opening and Reid’s Bach-ian bowed dissonance, are but preludes to the bright red sun morning piano lines that emerge. The piece ends resolutely – a sequence that feels like flying gracefully across a wide bright blue skyline.

Finally, on “Kabuya,” Taborn and crew craft a fine romp. Smith’s work on the toms and cymbals contribute mightily to the dancing rhythm. And on “Mumbo,” Reid finds just the right notes around Taborn’s pounding precision – like waves striking a rocky shoreline.

If one were to archive one’s dreams, just what would they say? Would they increase one’s perception of what is real or illusion? Would they lead to more self-awareness or confusion? Would they be time-stamped? And how would they be classified, stored, and retrieved? Perhaps Taborn’s efforts on Dream Archives are meant to shed light on these questions - the tuneful subconscious revealed and cataloged. Enjoy!

Kaja Draksler Octet: In Kyoto (from Bare, Unfolding)

How exciting it was to receive a bit of good news the other week. No, not that all wrong with the world was being dealt with smartly and swiftly, but - almost as good - that Clean Feed records was helping usher in some goodness our way. This goodness, Bare, Unfolding, is new digital and limited release LP (only 180 copies!) from pianist Kaja Draksler, along with vocalists Laura Polence and Björk Níelsdóttir, woodwindist Ada Rave, shakuhachi player Ab Baars, violinist George Dumitriu, bassist Lennart Heyndels and drummer Onno Govaert, will feature among its tracks the suggestive and lithe 'In Kyoto.' Watch the video by Aleksandra Ołda:

Find out more here: https://kajadraksler.bandcamp.com/album/bare-unfolding

Christoph Erb, Magda Mayas & Gerry Hemingway - Phyla music (Veto, 2025)

By Stef Gijssels

In the fragile lightness of the air, sounds drift into one another. They hesitate and whisper, moving in the same direction without weight or intention, slowly discovering each other, slowly intensifying. Like falling snow, they are visible yet fleeting against the vastness of the sky—until the wind stirs and their presence thickens into a storm: harsh, brutal, a relentless howl that takes command, a kind of dark reflection of the intimacy that preceded it. A vortex of sound sweeps everything along, only to unravel again into countless minute, delicate, and hushed tones.

Or perhaps they are small creatures, curling into one another, releasing tiny calls of recognition and belonging, until friction ignites and they turn on each other in anger—only to find, somewhere down the line, peace and understanding once more, and with it a deep and lasting friendship.

It is difficult to say. Perhaps these fragile, compelling sounds are not meant to evoke such spontaneous images of nature at all. Yet the name phyla itself comes from biology, where it denotes a broad category—bringing together animals of different species (as the tiger and the snail on the cover, possibly related to the story with the same name). In this context, it may suggest that the three musicians acknowledge the artists who shaped them, and draw sounds together from multiple angles and perspectives. 

The trio consists of Christoph Erb on tenor and soprano saxophones, Magda Mayas on clavinet, and Gerry Hemingway on drums, voice, and controlled feedback.

The result is impressive. And fascinating. They present two pieces: the first an extended work lasting forty-six minutes, followed by a brief two-minute piece. Unsurprisingly, the longer piece proves more engaging. As on several previous recordings, Mayas has set aside the piano in favour of the clavinet—an instrument whose raw, metallic timbre, not unlike that of an electric guitar, strongly shapes the overall sound of the music. Erb and Hemingway too are in excellent form, the experts of timbral explorations and inventive sonic creativity. The end result is as surprising as is astonishing and captivating. 

This is music meant for focused listening. Within its subtle interplay are unexpected turns and wonderful evolutions. An album you’ll want to revisit time and time again.

Listen and download from Bandcamp. 

Roscoe Mitchell & Michele Rabbia – in 2 (RogueArt, 2025)

By Guido Montegrandi

In May 2024 Roscoe Mitchell (bass and sopranino saxophones, percussions) and  Michele Rabbia (percussions, electronic) played a series of concert in Italy (here is a fragment of the concert at the Angelica Festival in Bologna https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Icgq6ojsJIU ) and on the occasion, between May 9th and 11th they recorded this album.

The result is an exploration of sound in its most elemental traits – breath and noise resonances and echoes and silence. There is something quite organic and alarming in the opening piece A day in a Forest as my cat (who is used to a wide range of strange and unusual sounds) was restless and alert for the whole piece, the same atmosphere can be heard in the counterpart piece A night in the Forest, a sort of environmental collection of dripping noises, electronic echoes and deep percussion. It’s a raw sound that emerges from this album and the moments in which Mitchell plays the bass sax (Low answer as an example) seem to dive deep into sonic substance of the world itself. In Two starts as a more traditional free jazz sax piece but then the drumming opens a different horizon with deep drums and subtle cymbals. 

All through the record, the way in which Rabbia uses electronics and percussion perfectly draws a net of connections and disconnections (to quote the liner notes) for the two of them to make their statements, to dialogue or to go astray. Interaction is a powerful example of the way they think about music - every sound matters, every breath and every move are music until it all fades in the last second of Polyndrome (the closing piece).

in 2 is an emotional record, fragmented sounds and broken melodies and rhythmic textures that dissolve into 39 minutes and 06 seconds of good music.

Tim Berne’s Snakoil - In Lieu Of (2025)

By Charlie Watkins

I have been a massive Tim Berne fan for years now. I’ve seen him play a handful of times and his composition technique has been a big influence on my own. He might be considered an auteur – you instantly know if you’re listening to a Berne album – and yet each of his ensembles manages to present something fresh.

This year Berne has released a couple of archive recordings from his band Snakeoil, with Matt Mitchell on piano (of course), Oscar Noriega on Bb and bass clarinets and Ches Smith on percussion. Both were briefly reviewed last month by Gary Chapin, who hits the nail on the head by describing Snakeoil as ‘knotty’. The complicated lines weave carefully in and out, and the compositions move between the compositional cells that have become so synonymous with his music. The complexity of the compositions gives this music a lot of momentum. The album was recorded at ‘Carnegie Hell’ (sic) in 2012, so it is relatively early Snakeoil material, but these musicians exude nothing but ease with each other.

The first track, Son of Socket, is the longest track at just under 29 minutes. It showcases some excellent interplay between all four musicians, who merge seamlessly between the cells and the improvisations, and about halfway through the intensity reaches a brief peak that is wonderfully furious, before opening up some space out of which another knotty compositional cell suddenly bursts forth. These kind of moments show the telepathic connection this ensemble has developed. But I think the band is at its strongest when it emerges from the improvisational chaos and settles deep into a groove, as it does towards the end of the track, when Smith swings hard whilst the other instrumentalists get their fingers round the difficult figures. Holding together improvisational chaos with avant-garde swing is what makes Snakeoil such an enjoyable group to listen to.

The second track, Spectacle, is the shortest of three tracks, and is the sparsest as well. It features Smith on various percussion instruments and then Noriega and Mitchell in a subtle and intimate duo together. When Berne finally swoops in, with Mitchell and Noriega introducing the next cell underneath, it all magically comes together, in a really special moment on the record.

The amusingly titled Sketches of Pain rounds off the album on a real high. Texturally, it is the most inventive of the three tracks, with Mitchell playing with a force that wasn’t so evident on the first two tracks, and Smith really pushing the band forward with his driving rhythms. There is also a good solo bass clarinet improvisation from Noriega, although he never quite reaches the same extremes that Berne manages across the record. The track has a delicate touch that demonstrates the full scope of Snakeoil’s musical range, and the last few minutes are a touching conclusion to an otherwise raucous record. This album really does manage to show all of Snakeoil, from their most complex and intense to their most sensitive and beautiful.

My only complaint about the record is that the piano sits a little too low in the mix. I was having to strain to hear Mitchell’s playing and the recording felt slightly hollowed out at points as a result. So I would recommend it for Berne fans rather than newcomers to his music; if you want an introduction to Snakeoil, I suggest The Fantastic Mrs 10 (Intakt Records, 2020). But as always with Berne, every subsequent listen of this record provides more and more to get your teeth into, and there really are some fantastic moments of inspiration throughout.

Available from Bandcamp:

Makoto Kawashima - Arteria (Relative Pitch, 2025)

  

By William Rossi

A continuation of saxophonist Makoto Kawashima's exploratory journey that I loved in his previous solo works Homo Sacer and Zoe, Arteriais an album that requires patience and active participation from the listener. The two new pieces that constitute this record further highlight the importance that Kawashima places on silence and his penchant for meditative build-ups that give equal importance to the quietest of sounds, like the clacking of the keys or the buzzing of the reed and the loudest overtone blares, delivered with his signature theremin-like vibrato and unrelenting force.

There's a real flow to both tracks, they're deliberate and thorough in their development. The unexpected bluesy lines, the slowly and painfully ascending melody on the title track and the emotional bursts of energy feel even sweeter after the listener has been taken on a journey from an almost imperceptible hum to a single note, almost as if to show them how sound itself is created, painstakingly carving catharsis from a stone. 

 

The ability of an unaccompanied improvised performance, on a monophonic instrument no less, to conjure entire worlds the listener can get lost in is testament to how talented Kawashima is and how good his musical instincts are.

Like all great improvised music there's a sense of danger to the material on this record. Each daring leap and each strained altissimo note make me hold my breath. Will he make it? Will the next note even come out? This thrill makes the listener an active party in the music and the very tactile and raw recording, making every inhale, footstep or movement audible, contributes to the illusion of being in the room with Kawashima, turning this solo album into a moment for connection and collaboration in the same way that concerts are. I love music like this.

Available digitally and on CD from Relative Pitch , don't miss out on it. 

 

Philipp Eden/ Frantz Loriot/Matina Tantanozi – And Raw, Lift My Eyes (Inexhaustible editions, 2025)

 

 

By Fotis Nikolakopoulos

The very latest release from Inexhaustible editions is another foray into the gap, the bridge maybe, between improvised sounds that are created in certain environmental surroundings and a certain cinematic atmosphere shaped by their interdisciplinary efforts. By the latter I’m trying to find connections between different audio excursions, more concentrated into “traditional” sound making, and this trio.

Eden plays prepared piano and utilizes several objects, Loriot plays his viola in many different ways, while Tantanozi is more responsible for the acute atmospheres of the CD with her flute and bass flute.

Ranging from the droney, melodic atmosphere of the opening 'Kaiki' (which in another, one of the many, turn in this CD it resolves into a request of the dynamic interplay between the instruments) up to the aggressively, but not in volume, experimental like the second track 'Curiosities,' or the fifth, Still Swirls, the glue that keeps all tracks together is their interplay.

Many times playful, quit a few times aggressive and full of energy, all the tracks in this CD are adventures into the unknown territories that border between experimentation and improvisation. There’s nothing to be said before hand and this CD needs a lot of listening, but if you are eager to find the aforementioned roots of their practice, you shall reap the fruits of another great release from the label. Only two hundred copies are made, so be quick.

Listen here:

@koultouranafigo