German multi-instrumentalist Udo Schindler has been recording and releasing
music relentlessly over the last few years. The reviews below offer a glimpse
of just some of his production over the first half of this year.
Udo Schindler and Elisabeth Harnik – Poetry of Friction (arch-musik, 2026)
To his immense credit, architect of buildings (by day) and sounds (by night)
Udo Schindler is tireless and itinerant. He has some of core collaborators –
see Harald Kimmig and Eric Zwang Eriksson on Imprints of Experiences below –
but, more often, he pushes his music forward by performing with new musicians.
Presumably, this forces him and his collaborators to adapt to each other on
the spot, and in the process explore unanticipated sonic territories.
Poetry of Friction captures Schindler on tenor sax, clarinet, and cornet in a
duo with Elisabeth Harnik on Bechstein piano (in and out) at a May 2025
performance at Musik- & Pianohaus Schwinghammer in Weilheim in Oberbayern,
Germany. The affair is largely muted. Both Harnik and Schindler have been
studying extended techniques and uncustomary articulations for years, and as
should be of no surprise given the title, they continue to do so here,
focusing on frictions, burbles, and heavy vibrations rather than anything
crisp or ostensibly melodic. If one were to consider this a duel, Schindler
has found his match in Harnik, who just as adeptly swings from idiomatic to
non-idiomatic techniques. Some passages are blustery and beautiful. Some are
hardly audible, roughly textured flutters and other understated soundscaping.
Whichever way the duo veers, however, Schindler and Harnik stay linked and
measured, wandering wide spaces but most often in tandem, which finds an
unexpected potential in the soulful and dramatic climax and release of its
final minutes.
Poetry of Friction is available as a download on Bandcamp.
Transalpine Sound Bridges is the oddball of the group. Whereas the other
releases were recorded live in studio or in front of an audience, this album
came out of a canceled duo gig. As no in person collaboration had (or has yet)
taken place, Sergio Armaroli responded by recording a series of vibraphone and
percussion solos for Schindler (soprano sax, clarinets, flute, cornet) to
improvise over. The result is a music that wafts through space. As the other
releases here attest, Schindler can honk, contort, and scream with the best of
them. Here, likely inspired by Armaroli’s dreamy runs on the vibraphone,
Schindler also shows that he can lean into minimalist, calmer motifs. One
hears his expert control, but in restraint rather than this John Butcher-like
acrobatics. This album reflects on some remote Alpine mountain range rather
than conquering the Großglockner’s peak. In a sense, this is impressionist
more than expressionist, which is notable given the improvisations have taken
place remotely. It grapples with that tension in the colorful patchworks of
yielding and unyielding pastures, unsteady breezes, a panorama of beautiful
flowers juxtaposed to barren crags, peace with a soft undertone or playful
danger. Consider Transalpine Sound Bridges yet another side of Schindler that
ranges from the bucolic and airy to the positively bluesy, coaxed in those
directions by Armaroli’s knottily vining solo chasses and the vagaries of
circumstance.
Available as a double CD and download from bandcamp.
Udo Schindler and Uwe Oberg – Schädel-Magie (FMR, 2026)
The title, Schädel-Magie, is German for skull magic, which sounds quite
macabre. But maybe we should think of it in terms of sounds bouncing around
the inner caverns of the head, in the eardrums and the auditory cortex and
amygdala, rather than something more sinister. The skull in this analogy is
self-evident, and the magic lay in the music produced, received, and
processed. (A quick internet search tells me sound processing is an extremely
complicated and weird, and in that sense quasi-magical, process, as much
higher brain functioning is.) The album, Schädel-Magie, features Schindler on
various clarinets and alto flute, and Uwe Oberg on piano (like Harnik, in and
out) and captures the duo in studio in 2024. The track titles are
untranslatable (or nonsensical?) compound nouns invented by the late German
poet Thomas Kling.
If the words themselves do not quite carry over into English (what the hell is
a body-branch or night machine?) the collectivity of the sounds are universal
and perform a universal linguo-emotive magic of their own. Schädel-Magie
begins as a wild and winding romp but quickly dissipates into extended
passages of piano and saxophone constructivism. From there, Schindler and
Oberg shift into a series of noirish pieces that explore a range of techniques
and dynamics, though always drawn to some dark, mysterious corner. Or a
winding staircase at the darkest part of night, wherein nothing nefarious has
to happen but various anxious potentialities nevertheless reside in its
shadows. As much as anything else, Schädel-Magie distinguishes itself from the
other albums reviewed here in its mood – even in its tender moments one senses
something cryptic, if not also haunting – and its barbed-wire spiraling.
Improvised free music recording develops around some recurring patterns:
the single event in which musicians group, play and then disperse – the
recording freezes a moment in time; the long term association – each
recording a moment in a sequence sometimes with the risk of developing
idioms, of creating a comfort zone at the expense of creative freedom; or a
core of frequent collaborators meet a guest / guests - in this case the
embryo of an idiom is here but it is tested and mutated by the newcomers.
Forced to Feel offers still another possibility being recorded after the
group has “already tested its chemistry on stage (…) at a moment of deepened
trust and heightened risk, refining a shared language forged in performance
and now pushed further in the studio” (linear notes). What I understand is
that they are on their way to create an idiom but are still willing to
experiment and take risks… their language is still a virus.
Eyal Maoz (electric guitar), Piero Bittolo Bon (alto and baritone sax,
shakuhachi, electronics), and Zeno De Rossi (drums, bells) all come to this
meeting from different directions with Bittolo Bon and De Rossi having
played together many times in many different contexts, and the results are
intense.
A meaningful use of electronics, a sort of underground groove that flows
into this sonic universe, splinters of melody scattered into the noise. In the opening piece, Renato’s 'Arcade,' a set of electronic sounds coming
directly from a 1980s arcade creates a foundation on which De Rossi builds
his texture and Maoz and Bittolo Bon display their fragments of melodies.
Music then evolves into a more pensive mood in 'Invoking the Ancestors' - the
guitar provides a net of arpeggios and fragmented melodies while
percussions, bells and electronics create a field for the alto sax to play
a eerie song that dissolves into itself.
In 'Nervous Butterflies' a quasi unison of electronics, sax and guitar open
the piece developing a swarm of circular motives that evolve one into the
other with the addition of the percussion. Something like a jazz-rock guitar
emerges over a riff just to develop into angular sounds that seem nostalgic
of other times. The drum than brings the sax into a jazzy atmosphere that
seems to freeze into the end.
'Moon Hovering' builds on an obsessive percussive patterns and offers the
possibility to mark the essential contribution that De Rossi offers to the
trio creating a unifying but open and volatile design that enriches sense
of global improvisation. The same may be true for 'Part Hypnosis' where the three musicians seem to
find a place of their own.
The baritone sax develops an obsessive melody in 'Flickering Wings,' this
slowly changes into a deconstructed blues, sometimes some electronic noise
adds an ironic note to prepare the finale with De Rossi again in evidence.
'Pull Me into the Blue Water' contains all of the elements presented so far
with the addition of the shakuhachi flute that adds rarefaction to the mix.
The guitar reacts with dreamy sonorities, the drum marks its path with a
sense of necessity.
That’s it. After many listening sessions, I feel that all of the fragments,
the different sounds, the different attitudes gather into sonic nebulas each
with its distinctive features but with an overall inner coherence.
Undetermined and yet beautiful.
You can listen to and download the digital album on bandcamp.
My daughter and I walked up Seventh Avenue on a balmy, post-thunderstorm
July night to one of the most well-known, and most sacred, of all jazz
venues on the planet, the storied Village Vanguard, to catch the opening
night of a week-long residence by the trio Paradoxical Frog.
Readers of the Free Jazz Blog might care to know this was a historical
occasion and one that involved the reuniting of three musicians often
discussed here at the FJC: pianist Kris Davis, saxophonist Ingrid
Laubrock, and drummer Tyshawn Sorey.
Behind the famous red doors that evening would perform an avant-garde
trio that had not played together in over a decade. And the band’s
unconventional leanings are perhaps less alien to the Vanguard than one
might first guess. Davis and Sorey have performed at the Vanguard
countless times, and Laubrock’s appearance is as rare and welcome as the
recent celebrated stint of the James Brandon Lewis Quartet in the West
Village club. This is to say nothing of the audience in the house that
night: I spotted Sylvie Courvoisier a few seats behind me, and
encountered William Parker outside the doors after the first set had
concluded. Davis actually opened the show fact-checking the record. “I
was corrected on social media,” she said. “It has not been fifteen
years since the three of us played together; it has been eleven.” In
any case, for listeners to either of the group’s two Cleanfeed
recordings, 2010’s Paradoxical Frog, and 2012’s Union,
it had been a long wait to hear these three masters perform in this
distinct context.
The opening night’s set consisted of four long compositions, all of
which have appeared on record at some point. The first performance, a
combination of Laubrock’s “Masterisk” and Davis’s “Union” spanned over
twenty-nine minutes. Seeing the work live allowed me to confirm just
how through-composed these Paradoxical Frog pieces are. Note the
extensive paper scores in Davis’s and Sorey’s hands and the extensions
on Laubrock’s music stand: a necessary tool to display the lengthy
writings of each work without requiring the saxophonist to flip pages
of these surprising compositions that challenge functional harmony and
defy circular rhythm.
The third work was “Whistlings” from 2020’s Blood Moon, the
Intakt Records duo of Davis and Laubrock. The live performance, over
twice the length of the original recording, featured Laubrock on soprano
saxophone and Tyshawn Sorey on a sonic array of material, at times the
room so quiet that Sorey’s percussion would consist of simply waving his
brushes in the air, an effect that hauntingly filled the room with
audible whisperings.
The set concluded with Sorey’s “Slow Burn,” clocking in at over sixteen
minutes and featuring the mysterious repetition of single notes on
Davis’s piano keys. It was moving to see these three unite again, and I
am certain I do not speak alone in voicing my hopes for more work in
the future, maybe even a Live at the Village Vanguard recording
to place among some of the mythical voices who have passed through that
hallowed underground room.
Las Instancias comprises Shantala Ferreyra on clarinet, Fermín Suárez on
double bass, and Gonzalo Goicoechea on drums. Ferreyra is an Argentinian
clarinettist and composer who graduated from the Jazz Performance Program at
the Manuel de Falla Conservatory in 2024. In 2025, she released her debut
album featuring her original compositions performed by her quintet, and in
2026, she was awarded a scholarship to study composition in Basel,
Switzerland. Her work combines composition and improvisation.
Suárez is a double bass player, improviser, songwriter, and composer from
Rosario, Argentina. His artistic work encompasses a wide range of genres,
including jazz, tango, Argentine folk, improvised music, and classical,
often mixing, stretching, and breaking the limits between languages and
traditions. He co-created the punk-tango and avant-garde ensemble ‘La
Rompiente’ for which he composes and arranges. In 2026, he started the solo project ‘Ola de sótano’, a double bass and
vocals set with electronics, featuring songs, improvisations and spoken
word. He’s also a frequent collaborator of composer and pianist Rocío
Giménez López.
Goicoechea is a drummer and educator specializing in jazz. He began his
studies at the Leopoldo Marechal School of Arts and later continued at the
Manuel de Falla Conservatory. Since 2021, he has performed with a variety of
jazz-oriented ensembles.
After a year devoted to live performance and composition, Las Instancias is
released by the Argentine label 625 Discos, and captures the result of their
ongoing collaboration so far.
With no harmonic instrument, the trio leans into timbre, register, and the
register distances between clarinet, bass, and drums. The pared-back format
serves as the foundation upon which the group builds its identity and
scribes its musical language.
The ensemble work their way through various compositions (mostly written by
Ferreyra and Suárez) that constantly flirt with the edges of jazz and
improvised music, exploring their aesthetic possibilities and different
orchestration combinations.
Recorded during a session in Rosario, the album seeks to become a living
reflection of a live performance, with all its nuances and dynamism. There
are fierce solos rooted in jazz language contrasted with moments of
introspection expressed through a more abstract idiom, all while maintaining
a strong sense of tension and attention. There is a sense of a group whose
members perform in proximity, without separation or post-production tricks.
The recording is an intimate encounter between both the musicians and the
listener. The absence of a harmonic instrument becomes a presence: a
framework that pushes them toward inventive orchestration, elastic
structures, and an exploration of musical language.
This album contains some standout solos and ensemble work. There is a
subliminal quality to this trio that makes the music fun, as well as
profoundly interesting to listen to. Don’t be fooled by the opening bars of
the first track. ‘Lampara Nueva’ starts like a traditional jazz piece, but
develops into something extraordinary, the dialogue flowing between the
clarinet, bass and percussion like water, flowing back and forth, with a
swing here, a change there, and something just for the heck of it anywhere
you might care to drop in. There is a taste of traditional jazz,
particularly in the drum solos that emerge from the ensemble work,
particularly in the second half of the number, but there is also much free
playing.
‘Mucho Agora Mismo’ starts with a gentle bass solo and works itself into a
frenzy, the clarinet delivering fiery solos across the percussion, with many
variations in between. This is a track of many parts, blended seamlessly
together. Just beautiful.
‘Dos Veces Agosto’ is a track of harmonies, rhythms, and counter-rhythms,
with some bass solos, clarinet that works around the theme, and explores
many musical avenues, while maintaining a connection with the central theme.
‘En Meyo’ is a clarinet solo track, with Ferreyra meditating on a theme,
while ‘Ok/Off’ is a track where all three instruments lock into the same
rhythmic pattern, creating a hypnotic dynamic. A bowed bass emerges, warm
and resonant, before the trio returns to their lively, idea‑trading
interplay.
‘Pegao’ is introduced by a bowed bass solo, over which the clarinet drops,
adding light touches and a rapid change of texture, which the drums enhance,
adding their own feel and colour. It is worth listening to this for the
changes and rhythmic patterns that evolve, disappear, and re-emerge, led
largely by the bass, whose voice is central to this number.
The album closes with a second take of 'Mucho agora mismo' which is
extravagant and allows each musician to deliver improvised music of the
highest calibre.
Las Instancias are three musicians whose shared curiosity has shaped a sound
that feels both stripped back and richly alive. There’s a cohesion that
makes the music both fun and deeply absorbing. You hear three musicians who
trust each other enough to take risks — to push, to pull, to leave space, to
fill it, to let the music breathe and then ignite. It’s intimate, inventive,
and full of personality.
Alone. Violently Alone. These are the lyrics highlighted by
crescendo, volume, and underlined by Karoline Wallace’s celestial voice, in
this case, a voice electronically transmuted to sound like Tuvan throat
singing, at the apex of Eon’s opening track, “Tycho.” It turns
out, much of Eon employs loneliness, separation, and uncertainty as
lyrical motifs. But Wallace’s Norwegian text never collapses into
isolation. Her opening musings in “Tycho,” named for the famous and
complicated Danish astronomer Tycho Brahe, marvel at the distant shining
above us, Skapt i vill kraft, created by wild force. So much of
the lyrical work by Wallace resounds with interior weather, the cosmos
within that counters with enthusiasm the supernovas and aurora borealis
without, the fiery and magnetic and kinetic elements of the universe that,
like the imagination, contain the power to create and destroy.
What does it mean, after all, to be violently alone?
A wild, eternal roar iseach being. We are made of star stuff and
ultimately whirl in oneness with the most distant corners of the universe.
Oneness is never aloneness, and words like buldrer(roars),klinger(rings),
andfunkler(sparkles) are as present as any other words of
emphasis on this astral and exploding album.
And the music buoying these lyrics into the electric air is filled with a
quiet simmering that always contains the potential to whip and whirl in
fiery bursts and detonations at any second. Take, for example, what happens
after “Tycho” quietly opens with Karl Bjorå’s sparse albeit off-center
guitar strumming. As the music builds to its thunderous
Alenecrescendo around the 3:30 mark, Martin Langlie begins
smacking and slapping the cymbals with increasing excitement. A cello,
played by Joel Ring, becomes more obviously audible. And out of the
enveloping cosmic atmosphere emerges Signe Emmeluth’s alto saxophone that
bursts through the spheres with noise and screaming, as it roars with
presence. Emmeluth, it grows apparent, shadows Karoline Wallace’s ethereal
vocal line from early on in this work. Only at this explosive point did I
become aware of it, however. Wallace’s lonely voice was never alone, it
turns out.
The album’s second song “Bittelille meg,” or Tiny little me, dances
ahead blithely bouncing over a four note ostinato cello line Ring plays with
joy and wonder.
Tiny little me, listeners are told in Norwegian,
lives in a quiet house, but it’s not quiet inside me
. “Klokkestein,” follows and calms down all the flaring effusion. Bjorå
and Ring play a two note sequence over which Wallace’s vocal lines soar
with soothing beauty.
This calm interiority is juxtaposed with outward ebullience throughout the
entire album. Just listen to the second half of “Klokkestein,” as it
shifts into a near house, EDM club track. Or better yet, turn to the
wailing opening call of “Atlas,” a high point on the record, as it
discharges around the one minute mark its wild energy into the exploding
star half of this album always is. The song then proceeds for four minutes
oscillating between fire music and the lonely call of evening somnolence,
eventually crashing the two states together into one wall of sound.
“Karamellgneis,” a meditative work leading to the album’s hushed ending, is
marked by up and down tuning and sliding mid-track by Bjorå’s guitar and
Ring’s cello, and by Martin Langlie playing the banjo as Wallace reminds us
Again and Again Again and Again We were…And we are again And will always
be.
I have neglected to mention perhaps the core and mantle of Wallace’s project
in Eon: geology. On the record’s inner sleeve Wallace writes “In
this project, I am inspired by deep time—geological time. An eon is the
longest unit of time in the geological timescale.” And, about
“Karamellgneis” she writes gneiss “was formed by being pushed beneath the
Earth’s crust…The heat and high pressure made it soft as caramel.” I rarely
stop to remember that the natural state of rock is also caramel in texture,
so accustomed I am to the unyielding formations in which I generally
encounter them. But then again, the stars are tiny sparkles on clear
evenings in my perception, and not the impossibly giant masses of nuclear
fusion they are eons away in outer space.
Eon, Wallace’s third album as leader, is a master stroke of
musical experimentation and cosmic poetry. Her lyrics and compositions
manifest for listeners again and again that all is one, we are never alone,
that large is small, quiet is noise, and what is far away is also
intimately close. There is no need to feel sad for what has been lost to
the past, and to live for anything other than the present moment. But even
Wallace's very philosophy culminates in paradox as she ends the record with
her father’s words: “It’s easy to say/Live for today,/When I tomorrow/Live
for yesterday.”
Jazzwerkstatt Peitz has a special place in the history of jazz festivals in Germany. First held in the 1970s and lasting through the early 1980s in the former East Germany, and then reinvigorated in 2011, the festival has been been parts cutting-edge, politically-subversive and nostalgic. After a generational change at the helm, Marie Blobel, daughter of the festival creator Ulli Blobel, has been updating, tweaking and re-inventing the weekend-long event, and winning the Deutscher Jazzpreis 2026 for Festival of the Year along the way.
The Free Jazz Blog will be heading there in a couple weeks and will tell you all about it. In the meantime, enjoy this choice clip of an improvisation workshop from last year featuring a stellar cast of uncompromising musicians, namely Frank Gratkowski on alto sax and flute, Lotte Anker on saxophone, Kazuhisa Uchihashi on guitar, Antonio Borghini on double bass and Toma Gouband on drums.
Learn more about the festival here and on the Free Jazz Blog here.
I was lucky enough to catch Argentinian expat tenor saxophonist live very
recently. It was a trio with double bassist Goncalo Almeida and
percussionist Sylvain Darrifourcq, promoting their music for Defkaz Records.
Leaving the other two great musicians out for the time being, I was
impressed by Nebbia’s versatility and the flexibility of her sound. Her
tenor saxophone easily traveled from free form improvisations, to one note
growls to supporting a tri-folded interaction between the musicians.
Here on this cryptically titled CD where Relative Pitch has nailed it again,
Nebbia shows another side of her playing, the fiery one for sure. Chris
Corsano is well known of course and you don’t need me, dear reader, to point
out that he is one of the best drummers around for this century. He has
build a vast, polyrhythmic and diverse discography but he can still –and
want to- “play”. Meaning: fire music as in the tradition of free jazz.
But, why another sax-drums duo is needed nowadays, since we are saturated
with so much music? Well, leaving personal taste aside (certainly trying not
to objectify it) this is a CD that clocks around one hour and is full of
feelings and sentiments. Joyfully energetic providing an unbreakable
interaction between the two artists, the seven tracks that comprise this
recording, seem like a definitive answer on how free jazz (especially the
micro-scale of the duo) should be heard in 2026. Even though Corsano has
done it before in the crucial duo with Paul Flaherty, here, this duo with
Camila Nebbia is redefining a part of, once, radical but marginalized music
that we called free jazz or, better (sic), free music.
Maybe it is, but I have this feeling that it’s not, a coincidence that one
half of the duo is this time a woman. Apart from the serious ongoing debate
about the participation of women in jazz based musics the truth still is
that this is a great CD full of small scale ideas, gestures, details, free
blowing polyrhythmic barrages that make it a must listen. And one of the
best for 2026 so far.
Listen here:
@fot.isn
Please note: Six or Seven Ways Towards Becoming Undone was also covered by Brian Earley here.
It's a little bit like finally going to that restaurant, the one that you have
known about for awhile, maybe it's just down the block from where you live and have walked by countless times and always thinking, "hmm, should really go
there." Then, one day you do and it's excellent, leaving you to wonder what took so long?
The music of pianist Joel Futterman has been something like that for me. I knew the
name but not the music, however, this has changed. My experience began with
the two releases Absorb and Reflective from late last year
featuring this pianist playing solo and followed by Transcendent Universe, a duo recording with bassist
William Parker. Let's dig in...
Joel Futterman - Reflective (Squidnote, 2025)
Where to begin with this feast? Perhaps Reflective offers a choice
entry point, an appetizer in some sense with its set of short improvisations,
however, be warned, it is rich enough to be served as a main
course.
Reflective is essentially a quiet album. It is sparsely played and
there seems to be deliberate attention given to each note's spacing, rather than an approach with speed and density, everything feels carefully considered and played with careful attention. Within the range of the albums 19 short tracks, the genres of modern,
classical and free jazz mix generously.
The first track establish the spaciousness and the next few follow through in this
manner, punctuating the reflective, flowing improvisations with bright bursts notes, like for example the fourth track which ends
with in an energetic melodic charge. Track five, on the the other hand, swings back to the
open spaces, but now bright chords are placed gently next to each other,
setting the stage for the next expressive burst.
An aptly titled set of improvisations that whets the appetite for more.
Joel Futterman - Absorb (Squidnote, 2025)
Absorb stands like a counter argument to Reflective. Comprised of four
longer tracks, the focus shifts away from the very deliberate
passages with the distances of the notes carefully measured to one where
texture and tempo take center stage.
'Absorb Part 1,' the longest track at just shy of a half-hour begins with a
strong, stately proclamation and then quickly picks up in tempo. Futterman's
right hand plays an ever expanding set of quick, darting phrases while the
left hand keeps the melody it from flying off the keyboard. Half way through
the track, there are crashes of notes, atonal splashes, in the midst of the
relentless piece providing a center point for the somewhat symmetrical second half.
The second track, which is just slightly shorter at 23 minutes, also begins
with a distinctive statement and then rapidly unfolds with quick stabbing notes whose intensity rapidly grows. Tonal clusters collide as rhythmic motion pushes and pulls the
track the along. There is again a relentlessness to the piece, keeping the energy
high and the listener engaged.
Tracks three and four, together just over 20 minutes, add up to the last
third of the album, and both carry on with the general approach that has been set and introduce a final contrast. Again
starting with a bold statement, track three erupts into a flurry of melody and
counter-melody, giving way to some classic jazz harmony towards the end. The
final track, however, breaks the mold, beginning with a rapid set of notes and then
opening up to more spacious passages. Overall, the pieces seem more
compositionally minded than on Reflective.
Joel Futterman and William Parker - Transcendent Universe (Burning Ambulance,
2026)
Although Cecil Taylor’s name has so far not entered the picture, his
presence inevitably looms over this music - particularly in the way both pianists use rapid arpeggios and splintered atonal chord clusters
as expressive devices. Their shared intensity at the piano is mirrored in
another common thread: their musical partners. Futterman worked with longtime
Taylor collaborator Jimmy Lyons in the 1980s, as well as with bassist William
Parker, who himself spent many years associated with Taylor. On
Transcendent Universe - a Futterman/Parker duo released on Taylor
biographer Phil Freeman’s Burning Ambulance label - the two draw on these
long-running connection with striking clarity.
Presented in three variable length tracks, 'Transcendent Universe Part 1'
kicks off the album with a musical punch. Parker's bowed bass squeaks
abrasively over a sustained chord from Futterman. Then, the two engage in a
rapid chase. The music tumbles through the speakers like a fight scene in a
movie that destroys everything thing in its path. Occasional
legato passages help add contrast and build tension. Both hold their own,
Parker plucking at the strings with a audible physical force and Futterman
generating vibrant explosions of tone. After five minutes or so they both pull back,
catch their musical breath (and who knows, maybe actual breath as well as this
was a live, first-take, no overdubs recording), and begin building the tension
anew with percussive extended techniques from the bass and laser focused
passages from the piano.
The music simply breathes - melodically, harmonically and rhythmically. While
completely improvised, the intense passages give way at times to endearingly melodic
moments that are kept from becoming to sweet through dissonance and rapidly
morphing musical ideas. Sometimes voices can be heard, the musicians singing
their ideas, but it is not enervating like a Keith Jarrett recording, rather
it provides a glimpse into the musical headspace, giving the music a charge of
live energy.
Parker is back with the bow at around the 18-minute mark in the track and he's
pulling the sound tightly together. Futterman responds with a rapidly
repeating figure, the two are locked-in, which is a state that permeates the
recording. While it's temping to do a play-by-play analysis of the music, this
is only a third of the way into the recording!
Transcendent Universe keeps unfolding, recombining, and
surprising, ultimately emerging as a portrait of two musicians leaning into risk, density, and lyricism. What begins as a torrent of sound becomes a dialogue, then a meditation, then another eruption. By the time the final
gestures fade, the lasting impression is not just intensity but connection.
And in that sense, we come back to Taylor’s presence, which is expressed as a
continuation of his musical legacy, audible in the high‑level interaction and uncompromising musical expression. Futterman and Parker's music extends the space he carved and creates music that feels both rooted in precedence and utterly new.
As the title indicates, Noise Trip Explosion is intense. I am
tempted to label it unrelenting or something of the sort, but it does not
quite reach that intensity of harsh noise, at least for extended stretches.
Rather, the noise on this trip is glitchy, it comes in starts and stops, and
Nolan Hildebrand's mixer feedback and live electronics are complemented by
saxophones, violins pianos, guitars and percussion. Notably, it is also
composed through a series of sound inputs and generative graphic scores that
leave ample room for intermittent relenting and pivots. (For more on the
set-up, loops, and feedback that produce the graphic scores and the
musicians’ interactions with them, see the liner notes.)
Rather, Nosie Trip Explosion is diverse in sound and personnel.
Hildebrand occupies the roles of musician and composer, and is joined by a
coterie of musicians, whose own backgrounds run from contemporary classical
to jazz and free jazz to abandoned warehouse micro-noise. Hildebrand himself
is even absent on the surprisingly open but still dark Raw Data Speed
Demons, where Roan Ma deploys both electronics and violin, and the final
summative track DADA BENDER, which is a percussion sextet “with fixed
media.”
Having listened to a lot of noise recordings that fall short, sometimes in
ways I cannot quite put my finger on, I can vouch for
Noise Trips Explosion. Hildebrand is never just making noise, as if anyone really can outside of
some predetermined system. Rather, he acknowledges, constructs, analyzes,
and reconstructs his choice (sometimes generated in and adaptive in
real-time) system to great effect and clamor. What is more, some of the
strongest tracks, such as knurl cracked green and the 16+-minute portals II
(everywhere and everything right now) (which must be a nod to
Everything, Everywhere, All at Once), stray from delight in sheer electro-noise especially through the more
traditional instrumentation of the rest of the crew. Portals II in
particular draws noise into harsh free jazz and vice versa with real aplomb.
DADA BENDER is also a standout in its collision of percussion and beats with
glitched circuitry and cartoon effects that amalgamate into a
techno-dystopian march of shrapnel, laser sounds, and other sonic dregs, and
scraps of various live percussion to prod it along. This particular bender,
and this entire sonic trip, is well worth the abandon.
A side-note on the artwork: it is a glitchy and colorful throwback to
earlier days of home computer/internet abstractions and fits the deceptively
scrappy aesthetic of the album perfectly.
Noise Trip Explosion is available on CD and as a download via
bandcamp:
bloodcog is Phil Hargreaves on woodwinds/EWI, Richard Harding on Chapman
Stick and ambiences, Richard Harrison on drums and objects, Fran Bass on
electric bass, and Pete Smyth, analog electronics. On these recordings they
engage in a venerable tradition of improvising a soundtrack over the film,
Planete Sauvage (Fantastic Planet), a 1973 science fiction masterpiece of
animation and disquiet.
There’s ample precedent for this. James P. Johnson, Fats Waller, and Count
Basie played for the original — venerable — silent pics. Miles Davis
recorded his improv for the film Ascenseur pour l'échafaud. Bill Frisell
played over (or behind?) Buster Keaton films. Marc Ribot took a spin.
The bloodcog quintet provides a mixture of non-idiomatic free music,
electronica, musique concrete, found sound, and noise that could be
industrially deafening or could be a close recording of a bug chewing loudly
on a leaf. Hargreaves’s winds sketch a story — or character or scene — but
still the whole thing seems wonderfully, drivingly abstractly expressionist,
a musical experience that references nothing, that makes allusions to
nothing.
Or so it seems.
The two albums take the music from the recording sessions and present it to
us in two different ways. Planete Sauvage (Improvised Soundtrack) is the OST
recording. Seventy minutes of music improvised directly to the film. Savage
Planet takes the material from the two takes and curates chunks of it into
13 distinct, self-contained tracks. There is some music on Savage Planet
that is not on Planete Sauvage, and vice versa, and I was surprised that
this mildest of curation and editing created a genuinely different listening
experience for each. Maybe it was just the pauses between tracks for breath.
But no, the two are related, of course. The Venn Diagram has a good amount
of overlap, but also a good amount of distinction.
A third way to listen to the soundtrack is to watch the film with the
soundtrack. It’s a genuinely transformational experience — both because the
music and film are each so good, and together even better, and because the
exercise of hearing this music in three ways provides hypnotically
fascinating insight into how music and images can so profoundly change each
other. Sadly, you cannot watch the film because there’s a copyright dispute
going on. This is what is known in the industry as A DRAG!
Each album is great, and the entire project is something you can really
immerse yourself into. Five stars!
"When you hear music, after it's over, it's gone, in the air. You can never
capture it again." These, as many readers of the Free Jazz Blog will know,
are the famous final words of Eric Dolphy’s mythical work,
Last Date
. While other recordings have come to light over the years, in many ways
these also serve as the final words of Dolphy’s life, as he died a mere 27
days after Last Date’s recording.
I evoke Dolphy’s words here because of the grabbing and somewhat cryptic
title of the first album recorded together by saxophonist Camila Nebbia and
drummer Chris Corsano. Last Date was a functional title; it
provided listeners with useful information about the record they were to
hear, and it held weight. It most certainly was intentional.
As I listened to Six or Seven Ways Towards Becoming Undone I found
myself returning again and again to this title. What the hell does it
mean? Was I chasing specters, pumping meaning into a mere throw away
phrase by Corsano or Nebbia? But I also kept returning to Dolphy’s words.
Music, afterall, can become undone, and as it turns out, Nebbia
and Corsano do a masterful job of achieving this in each piece. The duo
make a tacit pact with their listeners as each song opens, only to wipe
away expectations completely by midsong. For example, the album opens with
a burner: “Shattered Things.” Nebbia slides around her instrument’s keys
like an oiled snake as Corsano works urgently on cymbals and snare. By the
one minute mark, the piece feels like it wants to reach through the ceiling
as Nebbia holds long notes with multiphonics and screeches in death-ray
like effects, roiling up and up and up as Corsano opens ringing crashes on
the ride cymbals and drops explosions on the toms. It is as though Rashied
Ali were playing with John Coltrane AND Pharoah Sanders at the same time on
Interstellar Space.
The kinetic maelstrom continues, but somewhere around the seven minute
mark, I realized that the music had furtively gone quiet. Nebbia leaves
tons of space and silence and Corsano softly swipes the high hats or bows
other cymbals. And, by 7:50 the piece has entered total silence. It must be
over, I thought. But the two musicians continue extemporaneously creating
overtones and whistles and shimmering effects for over three more minutes.
The piece becomes undone, but the two recreate new expectations
well before the work finishes.
This coming undone happens again and again on this album. Well,
seven times, since there are seven total songs. Although the final track,
“Unadorned/Never Better,” only sort of follows this approach, remaining
largely atmospheric and meditative, with Corsano playing what sounds like a
gong or a sheet of metal and Nebbia whispering overtones. At times it
becomes almost impossible to tell if I was hearing a saxophone or a drum
kit, as the sounds whistle and ring out. This work serves as an entirely
new direction for the album as a whole, and in that sense, serves another
method of becoming undone. So, let’s call it six or seven times,
or ways, of becoming undone.
I want to be clear, however, that Nebbia and Corsano do not repeat one
pattern the entire way through the first six tracks. While, “Shattered
Things,” and the following pieces “Cast-A-Spell,” and “Sunken House” all
possess Interstellar Spaceintensity and searching at times, the
songs move surprisingly into sonic territory I did not anticipate. My
favorite work is a piece titled “Dead of Night.” The fourth of the seven
works on the album subverts expectations by opening with the saxophonist
playing her horn whispery, airy, and breathy. Corsano adds accents with
sticks and rolls with what sound like his fingers. This song retains its
quiet openness, and, in this way, the undoneness isthis song. The
piece is seductive, however, and plays with expectations as the two appear
to build intensity, only to continue searching through the silence. But,
by the 5:40 mark Nebbia’s horn is screaming with more volume than at any
other time on the record.
“A Paper Cut in Smoke” sees Nebbia both whispering and honking her
instrument. Corsano even nearly plays a groove a quarter of the way in.
“Nothing is Fixed” remains a highlight of the album, and works mysteriously
and lyrically. I swear at times I hear Ben Webster blowing breathy ballads
on this tune.
Six or Seven Ways Towards Becoming Undone is a masterpiece that
leaves me, at least, asking questions about impermanence. All things, as
the opening work states, may be shattered, and nothing may be fixed, but we
strut and fret our way through paper cuts in smoke not to signify nothing,
but to be “Never Better.” All songs must become undone as they fade and
end, but the next adventure is waiting to bloom sonically somewhere from
the silence.
At the end of this summer, the Free Jazz Blog will be heading to Antwerp to
check out the Summer Bummer festival. Held over the last weekend of August, it's been on our 'bucket list' of
festivals over the past few years as its reputation has leaked across the ethers. Today, we present an interview with programmer Koen
Vandenhoudt, about the festival's origin and concept ... but first a short impression of event from the festival itself:
Paul Acquaro: How did the very first edition of the festival come into
being?
Koen Vandenhoudt: The first edition of Summer Bummer came into being as the
celebration of 25 years of Freakscene, my radio show at Antwerp’s Radio
Centraal, so originally it was Freakscene’s Summer Bummer. But even then it was a combined effort of music enthusiasts, supportive
artists and a lot of volunteers that made and still make it happen.
PA: What do you think distinguishes your festival from others in Europe?
KV: We work purely by content, and though we pioneer many artists and give chances to lesser known and
emerging artists, we go less by trends or commercial choices. At Summer Bummer we often present artists in constellations that have never
happened before or that are brand new. That’s super exciting but hard to promote. People want the hear and see
things before hand. So to see people coming from all over the world to witness this musical
adventure, gives us a good feeling. It’s a trust kind of thing built over
the years.
Another important thing is that we never do overlaps. We use multiple stages but always make sure that people can see all the shows -- and very important, it’s a community thing, where people can hang out, meet
the artists, participate in an installation, enjoy some nice homemade food
or score some excellent records.
PA: What guides your programming choices from year to year?
KV: We would like to say the artists and the ever changing amazing music they
make. The international network and knowledge we built from within our Sound in Motion organization - volunteers, professionals, artists and like minded organizations - over all the years is pretty vast. This means that from all
over the world we are continuously fed with the ins and outs of the music
world.
On top of that, we support musicians over the long term, from the early stages,
where the artist is new and unknown, to the moment where the international
stage starts noticing.
PA: How do you decide when a project is “right” for the festival?
KV: That’s a very subjective process and impossible to pin-point exactly. We
sometimes set out a kind of wish list or some minor themes but this
very often gets overruled by the sheer quality of surprising offers or by
the fact that every day is a day of potential musical discovery. Being able
to keep this flexibility, this room to manoeuvre is crucial...
PA: How do you balance presenting established artists with discovering new
voices?
KV: Since the first Summer Bummer edition and also in our nomadic concert
series, our Dropa House residencies and our Dropa Disc label, we always
balanced the older generation with established artists and the up and coming
generation. In an age where pioneers of improvised, adventurous and
experimental music are rapidly forgotten and disappearing, it’s super
important to stage these different generations together. Sometimes we can
combine them, like Peter Brötzmann with Farida Amadou and Thurston Moore, or
Cel Overberghe with Adia Vanheerentals and Ornella Noulet (60 years of age
difference), and Joe McPhee with Mette Rasmussen and Dennis Tyfus is also a
good intergenerational and genre defying example.
And sometimes it’s
exemplary of how the past is still more than relevant and moves into the
future, like the trio of Barry Guy, Evan Parker, Paul Lytton or the historic
duo of Fred Van Hove and Brötzmann. As said earlier we support musicians over the long term. Therefore some artists who are considered established these
days still have a strong bond with Summer Bummer and Sound in Motion as an organization. Being able to show how these artists evolve is something very
beautiful and exciting to witness.
This year we have some beautiful examples
of this with the world premiere of Rodrigo Amado, one of the hardest working
reed players around, in a trio with the legendary bass player/icon Joëlle
Léandre and the genre hopping genius drummer and electronics manipulator
Gerald Cleaver, not a trio we requested but a proposal by the artists
themselves.
And what to say about one of the all time greats, Alexander von
Schlippenbach, who will play this years Summer Bummer in a duo with
phenomenal drummer and one of the most prominent representatives of the
scene Paal Nilssen-Love, another request by the artists themselves and super
exemplary of everything we stand for. And maybe the ultimate example of
mixing up generations, gender, established and new artists is the passage at
Summer Bummer in 2024 of Fire! Orchestra CBA and Fire! Orchestra CBA Youth.
Mindblowing and very inspirational indeed.
PA: Are there artistic boundaries you intentionally avoid—or intentionally
cross?
KV: Crossing artistic boundaries is inherent to the invited artists. Creating
the platform to cross potential boundaries is the essence of Summer Bummer
as a festival and to Sound in Motion as an organization. Just look at this years program and you know what we mean.
PA: What do you hope musicians experience here that they might not
elsewhere?
KV: We once published a book with the title Food For Thought asking the
artists how they experienced playing for Sound in Motion. One of the answers was: 'Feeling at home away from home.’
We like to think and hope that we are part of a handful of organizations and
festivals that actually make this happen. That we can create the perfect
environment for artists so they can focus 100% on their craft and artistry.
PA: What do you hope audiences experience here that they might not
elsewhere?
KV: That there’s more than just mainstream music, forced upon everyone by mainstream media. And that, unlike mainstream channels will make you believe,
it is not by definition difficult music. Even alternative channels struggle
with this, shying away or being apologetic when music is abstract or noisy
or not following known paths, as if there’s something wrong with it. No,
embracing the unknown and enjoying it full on is the way to go.
PA: How do you see the festival’s role within the local music community?
KV: By showing the international dynamic of adventurous, improvised and
experimental music and putting local musicians in the spotlights,
introducing them first hand to international mainstays the Summer Bummer
Festival tries to open international doors and opportunities.
PA: What is one thing that we didn't ask you that you think we should have?
KV: Sound in Motion is a nomadic organization, how does that relate to the
concert series and the festival, and what's the importance of this within the
field of improvised and experimental music and free jazz?
Sound in Motion uses a "nomadic" model that fundamentally shapes both its
ongoing concert series and its annual festival. In fields like free jazz,
improvised, and experimental music, this structural fluidity is not just a
logistical choice—it is an aesthetic and philosophical necessity.
Experimental and improvised music has historically suffered from being
ghettoized either as purely academic or overly elitist. By refusing to stay
inside a traditional, high-art institution, Sound in Motion actively
de-academizes the genre. Bringing free jazz into a rock club one week, a
community art space the next, or a cultural center the week after meets
diverse audiences where they already are, embedding avant-garde sound into
the community fabric.
Free jazz and free improvisation are built on the rejection of rigid
frameworks, fixed charts, and predictable patterns. As a nomadic organization, Sound in Motion mirrors this artistically. When an organization is not connected to a physical building, it avoids the
institutional inertia that forces venues to book "safe," commercially viable
acts to cover high overhead costs.The organizational structure is as
improvisational, adaptive, and high-risk as the music itself.
Because we must constantly collaborate with different physical venues and
artistic spaces, Sound in Motion inherently builds an inter-connected
infrastructure. We do not guard our audience; instead, we aim to
cross-pollinate with the crowds of the partner venues. This creates a robust
safety net for touring experimental musicians, making Belgium a vital
European hub for artists who rely on agile, grassroots bookers to sustain
their careers.
Reza Askari is a German (son of an Iranian-born father and a German mother),
Cologne-based double bass player, composer, and educator (he is a professor
of jazz bass at the University of Music Wuerzburg). His main band is the
Roar trio - with clarinet and tenor sax player Stefan Karl Schmid and
drummer Fabian Arend, augmented by vibes player Christopher Dell (who is
also an educator who teaches architecture, urban design, and planning) in
its last two albums - the self-titled album (QFTF, 2022) and Zen World
Cables (Boomslang, 2024). The fifth album of Roar has a cryptic title, xAYb
v8v dYAx, and the trio hosts Dell and Canadian trumpeter Lina Allemano (who
splits her time between Toronto and Berlin). The album was recorded at
Deutschlandfunk Kammermusiksaal in Cologne in April 2026.
Askari was mentored by German double bass players Dieter Manderscheid and
Sebastian Gramss, but has played with other innovative double bass players
like Barre Philips and Mark Dresser, and is well-versed in the free jazz
legacy. But Askari sees the acoustic, unamplified Roar quintet as an
improvising modern jazz band that adapts the logic of extreme metal bands
with their asymmetrical or symmetrical cycles, collapsing forms, obsessive
repetition, abrupt ruptures, and overwhelming physical force. He mentions
metal bands like Meshuggah, Car Bomb, the Melvins, and the Dillinger Escape
Plan that have a distinct architectural and emotional language that he
wanted to transform into a detailed improvisational context.
xAYb v8v dYAx distills the powerful, physical, and constantly shapeshifting
rhythmic patterns of metal bands into layered, more nuanced, and spacious
yet still restless patterns. Askari, Dell, and Arend sketch complex,
polyrhythmic architectures of a modern jazz trio or a chamber music
ensemble, while they keep trading leading roles, often reaching surprising
reductionist or atonal territories. Schmid and especially Allemano act as
free agents who can add disruptive, sometimes even abrasive touches, and
they always do so, but thoughtfully and poetically. Allemano’s economic
interventions always charge the music with intense, emotional impact. This
tension stimulates and enriches the unpredictable, often fragmented rhythmic
dynamics of this quintet.
The Roar quintet does not seek to replicate the massive polyrhythmic
patterns of Meshuggah or other metal bands, but captures the nervous,
punkish rhythmic spirit of such bands. This quintet refuses to subscribe to
the common, familiar order and instead challenges itself with shifting
contrasts and structural chaos, always questioning, negotiating, negating,
and reassembling Askari’s compositions. The code-like, palindromic titles of
most pieces intensify that feeling. The outcome is thought-provoking, epic,
and makes you return to the album again and again, not to decipher the
cryptic titles, but to enjoy its free spirit.
Bijou is a French noun meaning “gem”, “treasure”, or “jewel”. It’s often
used in a formal or figurative sense to describe something particularly
beautiful, precious, or valuable, similar to the term “gem” when referring
to a beautiful house or object. And it’s the title of Flo Stoffner’s new
solo album - his first since Norman (Veto Records, 2014). However,
it differs significantly from his earlier recordings.
Stoffner has been an integral part of the European free jazz scene for many
years. As a guitarist, he ranks among the best in his field alongside Fred
Frith, Olaf Rupp, and Noël Akchoté. No wonder - when John Butcher and Paul
Lovens choose you as a collaborator it certainly counts as a mark of
distinction.
After many duo and trio releases, Bijou highlights Stoffner’s unique
style as if he were freed from the constraints of having to communicate with
others. “This time, I made short recordings here and there over the course
of several months. I deliberately wanted to immerse myself in this process
over a longer period of time. For me, it was really all about the process
itself, since I learned and discovered so much through this engagement with
myself and the instrument. I also wanted to make the very quiet playing
styles audible - the ones that are hard to hear when other musicians are
playing along”, Stoffner emphasizes. Therefore, Bijou is more purist
than the solo albums before, on which he used effects more frequently. On
the one hand, it becomes clear that his technique is shaped by the British
school, especially Derek Bailey and John Russell; on the other hand, his
sound has clearly emancipated itself from his role models. Flageolets are at
the center of his style, he contrasts them with hard, individually struck
notes. The result is a very open sound, as if a wild ECM album was being
played in a DIY style by a post-punk guitarist (e.g., Durutti Column’s Vini
Reilly). You won’t find any ethereal lightness here, it’s more like being
Nero in the first Matrix movie, dodging the ricochets, which come flying at
you not in slow motion, but in real time. The whole thing sounds like a
hailstorm descending on an abandoned Tibetan monastery where the chimes have
been left behind. This becomes particularly clear in the album’s final
track, “Bijou 6.” Amid all the roughness and harshness, a stark beauty
flashes through consistently, so that despite its jarring contrasts in high
and low flageolets, the piece is reminiscent of ambient music. But even
though Stoffner seems to play with a greater sense of freedom, he still
feels that it was a major challenge to play without a partner because it was
sometimes difficult to get to the point. But don’t worry - on this wonderful
gem, he has succeeded without exception.
-A sentence proposed by Noam Chomsky that he claimed was grammatically
correct, but meaningless.
In 2015, I attended a concert of the band Kaze in a downtown Ottawa
nightclub. Between sets, the musicians were selling CDs, surrounded by a
crowd of fans. I picked out a few CDs and was still hunting around when I
saw one I didn’t recognize. The print on the back was tiny, the room was
dark and I didn’t have my reading glasses. But I figured I’d try my luck and
purchased it without even knowing who was on the CD. It was TOC’s album
Haircut and it became one of my favorite albums of 2015, and I’ve been
an enormous fan of TOC ever since.
TOC consists of Peter Orins on drums, Ivann Cruz on guitar, and Jérémie
Ternoy on keyboards. (Peter is also the drummer for Kaze.). On
Haircut,
TOC creates complex rhythms that are a delight to listen to, with Cruz in
particular treating his guitar like a percussion instrument. The rhythms
have an almost hypnotic effect which I found fascinating.
I very much liked the idea of adding a saxophone to TOC. They had previously
collaborated with Dave Rempis on Closed For Safety Reasons, and
that was a terrific album. On this album, Jean-Luc Guionnet proved to be an
excellent choice for collaboration. FJC readers will recognize Guionnet
from multiple reviews, including a 5 star review for his duo with Will
Guthrie, his more recent album with Diatribes, as well as his work with the
band The Ames Room.
This album consists of a single 33 minute track, and the band is more than
capable of sustaining the listener’s attention throughout the piece. It
begins subtly with TOC playing some textural percussive sounds inviting
Guionnet to join them. As the rhythms build in complexity, Guionnet’s
playing builds in urgency. He plays beautiful serpentine lines, but
occasionally sounds like he’s calling out to the others as he plays a single
screeching note. As the piece proceeds, Guionnet’s overblowing ratchets up
the tension and TOC responds with their own intensity. The last 8 or 9
minutes of this album are pure, thundering bliss.
French writer and filmmaker Georges Perec was known for using wordplay to
explore identity, loss, and grief. His 1974 book Espèces d'espaces is equal
parts essay and prose poetry, exploring the concept of space from an
individual bed to the universe. It also serves as an inspiration for one of
the most intriguing albums of 2026, Open Space.
On it, veteran French actor Pierre Baux eloquently recites Perec’s writing,
and a trio spontaneously creates music inspired by it.
The album opens with “SPACE”. French cellist Vincent Courtois plays muscular
refrains, off of which Dutch clarinetist Fie Schouten bounces her plaintive
lines. Portuguese drummer Sofia Borges provides the percolating cadence
that drives the haunting melody, which not only echoes the essay's words but
also goes beyond them. Thus it forms a lyrical fusion of two forms of
expression
A cinematic ambiance permeates the entire recording. For instance, on “The
Bed and The Room” Courtois and Schouten engage in a tense duet that shows
influences of Western classical music. Borges’ crashing cymbals, chiming
bells, and rustling brushes add to the mysticism.
The three musicians demonstrate sublime camaraderie, with the focus
primarily on the collective performance rather than individual solos. On
the poignant absurdist “The Country-Borders”, in response to Baux’s emotive
monologue, Schouten lets loose fiery, urgent wails while Courtois bows out
crystalline and angular phrases with passion. Borges’ thunderous
polyrhythms underscore her bandmates' improvisation and the anti-war message
of Perec’s poem. Meanwhile, on “The Letter” the serene ensemble sound is
laced with melancholy. Borges contributes soft, jingling percussion that
dramatically punctuates Schouten’s languid, undulating clarinet and
Courtois’ darkly smoldering cello.
This collaborative record perfectly marries provocative poetry with equally
stimulating musical extemporizations. Its singularity, though, goes beyond
its structure. Each of the performers brings their idiosyncratic styles and
seamlessly overlaps them for a multilayered work that is moving and
memorable. Open Space makes for a rewarding listening experience even for
those who may not know French.
Anyone who has experienced someone close, and especially a young one, who
was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease, would be familiar with the
existential and emotional rollercoaster that awaits all around those ill
ones, along with the grief-filled, compassionate yet helpless years to come.
Danish keyboard player and composer Anders Filipsen, the leader of the local
experimental, electroacoustic ensemble The Black Nothing, experienced
Alzheimer’s disease when his father was diagnosed four years ago. He
composed a ten-part suite, Midt i en Fremtid (In the Middle of a Future),
about the time he spent with his father, which composed passages, free
improvisation, and graphic scores. He says: “This album is the sound of a
time when what once was ceased to be, and something new emerged. It is a
loving song to the moments we share now – in the midst of all that has
disappeared”.
The different parts of the suite function as tableaux of moments marked by
gradual decline, filled with silence, relating to the inevitable time when
the ill ones can not share their thoughts anymore, repetition, and
intensity- a landscape where presence and memory meet in sound. The ten
musicians - vocalist Qarin Wikström (who sings in Danish, but the lyrics
were translated to English), trumpeter Emil Jensen, clarinetists Carolyn
Goodwyn and Jeppe Højgaard (who also plays the flute), cellist Soma Allpas,
double bass player and cellist Nils Bo Davidsen, electronics player Mads
Emil Nielsen, percussionist Victor Dybbroe, drummer Bjørn Heebøl, and
Filipsen on synths - use their idiosyncratic voices to create a unified
expression in which individual playing and collective sound merge.
The introspective, reflective, and chamber spirit of this suite emphasizes
the vulnerability and the often helpless feelings of attending to those
suffering from Alzheimer's when “everything that’s known is gone”, as
Wikström sings in the opening piece, “Synker og Stirrerr (Sinking and
Staring). “Nelly” captures Filipsen’s father's last memory and gently
addresses the realization that when time, with its many memories and
experiences, loses its meaning, and all that is left is the present.
The power of this thoughtful, insightful suite lies in its emotional
restraint, best expressed by Wikström’s fragile voice, and its kaleidoscopic
individual colors, suggesting a nuanced yet abruptly shifting, unstable, and
not always comprehensible new reality, faithfully representing life with
Alzheimer’s disease. But Filipsen orchestrates this suite not as an
expression of melancholy and loss, but as a statement of compassion and love
to the most closed ones, and the opportunity to let them go, embraced by
their dear ones. Or as he wrote in “I stilhed findes ord (In Silence There
Are Words): “...Room for honesty, peculiarity, and unbearable sorrow / Come
take my hand”.
