Jazz em Agosto, 42nd edition (Part 2)

Anna Webber 5Tet. Photo by Petra Cvelbar - Gulbenkian Música

By David Cristol

Sometimes music comes alive, well, live. The complex compositions by Anna Webber (tenor sax, bass flute), making ample use of just intonation, are presented in a way that makes them palatable, open and fetching rather than amounting to a dry musicological treatise. It's the same quintet as on the Shimmer Wince album from two years ago: Adam O'Farrill (tp), Mariel Roberts (cello), Lesley Mok (dm), Elias Stemeseder   (keys) serve the leader's weird orchestrations from that album as well as new ones in the same vein. There is something Threadgillian (as in Henry) about Webber's studies in rhythmical, timbral and tonal relationships, resulting in out of tune instrumental associations that challenge listeners' habits and perception. Stemeseder's crispy synth bass lines help holding the edifice together, in a discreete but essential role, while Mok's beats unfold without ornaments or a trace of eccentricity. It's up to the winds and cello to give flexibility to the whole affair with sagacious solos that manage to sound both relaxed and intense. An atmospheric tour-de-force starts with the imitation of a foghorn by tenor and trumpet and evolves into a slowly mutating creation. A piece is titled after the ecological concern of water - a legit worry further explored in Webber's recent It's Easier to Imagine the end of the World... album. Her finger firmly on the pulse of the times, she also resorts to extended techniques, and her construct is apt to please those enamored with the notated page as much as aficionados of the free religion. 

The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters. Photo by Petra Cvelbar - Gulbenkian Música

The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters gets straight down to business upon entering the stage, blasting open the portals to hell. Turntablist Mariam Rezaei and piccolo trumpeter, modular synth wizard and vocalist Gabriele Mitelli stand behind an elevated table, with alto saxophonist Mette Rasmussen and merciless drummer Lukas Koenig (also using a synth) closer to the audience. Mitelli spouts echo-drenched vocals. The clear, elongated wails rising from Ramussen's sax make her appear as a residual voice of humanity amidst outstanding urban chaos, struggling to make sense and stay sane against a barrage of madness, rage and information overload, searching for the truth among media fog and widespread confusion. She also provides the main jazz element through her phrasing, and dances with a hand-held shaker. Although TSORPM's sets are improvised, some of the material previews the quartet's new album Reason, recorded prior to the Lisbon date but released after, on Chicago label Corbett Vs. Dempsey. Mitelli's staccato outpourings and Rasmussen's soaring lines are sampled in real time by Reazei and fed back into the mix. A measure of the group's loudness is the fact that the planes flying low over the stage, a minor nuisance at other gigs, aren't even noticed. A few bejewelled patrons flee in terror. It's not all punishing noise though, and short, sporadic lulls point to an interesting direction that could be explored further. 

Pat Thomas. Photo by Petra Cvelbar - Gulbenkian Música

After seeing Pat Thomas in a variety of groupings - notably at Jazz em Agosto, on piano or electronic devices - this solo performance feels like a pared down, distillation of his concepts. Without an introduction, the pianist proceeds to tap into his fertile imagination, his display of musical poetry quickly drawing everyone in. The feel is spontaneous, although part of the repertoire seems to originate in the 2025 album Hikmah. Thomas's style is wonderfully idiosyncratic, even as echoes of Monk, Ellington, Waldron are heard. The gaze is focused on the keys. We're led through an absorbing saga, and from the first note to the last the audience holds their collective breath, soaking in the sounds and designs, from pearly pushes to novel strains, delicate left and right hand flurries to forceful two-fisted clusters. The ostinati cells Thomas deploys are considered rather than obsessive or stubborn. His expressive music has a literary quality, if such a thing is possible. It is in turns or simultaneously rhythmic, abstract, spiritual, down-to-earth, and visionary. One doesn't encounter such beauty every day. An undisputed highlight, after Kühn's markedly different but equally enthralling solo piano set. 

The most in-demand drummer/vibraphonist of the past 15 years, Ches Smith is heard in two quartets, both on the outdoors stage. First, he brings his celebrated Clone Row project to play music from the 2025 album and its upcoming follow-up, and then, he appears as a key performer in a multikulti grouping by Tomas Fujiwara. 

Clone Row. Photo by Petra Cvelbar - Gulbenkian Música

Around Smith, Clone Row is Liberty Ellman and Mary Halvorson on guitars, and Nick Dunston on bass and sci-fi sounds toy. The guitar-knitting, both together and separately, astounds. The complicated writing is played with the utmost precision. Halvorson uses her trademark wavy effects with more temperance than a few years ago. It's a treat to hear Ellman live; a member of Henry Threadgill's Zooid and author of worthwhile albums in his own name, he's too rarely seen on European stages. Players' faces are absorbed by the scores, the eyebrows frowned. Seasoned performers all, but concentration remains paramount with every new venture, especially in a field where pushing the boundaries and broadening the spectrum of possibilities is part of the ethos. Over devilish electronic beats, Clone Row offers tight rhythmic structures (odd or straight-ahead depending on the piece), busy melodic lines and changes, ligntning-quick interactions, and manages to emerge with a completely organic feel. Clone Row is a monster that necessitates multiple listens to fully grasp (read Aloysius Ventham's review for enlightenment). The future is now. 

Dream Up. Photo by Petra Cvelbar - Gulbenkian Música

Dream Up is an unusual quartet that, in Lisbon, has Kaoru Watanabe on taiko drums, high-pitched Japanese flutes and yodel, Ches Smith on vibraphone and congas, Kweku Sumbry (heard with Charles Lloyd) on djembe, balafon, kora, whispering and singing, and leader Tomas Fujiwara on "jazz" drum set. It's a much quieter and reflexive affair than Clone Row. A quadrilogue of percussion and wind instruments from various continents, drawing upon distinct traditions - from East, West, South, and more. Each player uses a specific set of tools, sticks, materials, that result in as many timbres; each one gets plenty of opportunities to shine, alone and in diverse manners of associations. The vibraphone's resonance brings an ethereal, otherwordly quality while other instruments evoke an earthly grounding. Well-delineated rhythmic ideas and a modal approach are often favored. Tuned skins, wood and metal participate in the melodic enunciations of the flute and vibes. Fujiwara's felt sticks are applied to the drums with infinite care, while Watanabe's huge taiko drums are hit with indomitable strength. Talkative frogs from the pond behind the stage blend in just fine with music that speaks to the cosmos as much as to the audience. 

Chicago Underground Duo. Photo by Petra Cvelbar - Gulbenkian Música

Since the launch of Chicago Underground duo in 1998, Chad Taylor (drums, mbira) and Rob Mazurek (trumpets, vocals, electronics) have reconvened in this and other formats : trio, quartet and larger bands such as Pharoah and the Underground, which two albums were recorded live at Jazz em Agosto. For this program dubbed Hyperglyph, video backdrops are projected on a big screen, jumpy images of rivers and rain, plant life, fast moving shadows and shapes, pixellated landscapes complementing the music. Mazurek alternates between bouts of blowing (catchy riffs and melodic fragments rather than elaborate developments), chanting, and crafting bass patterns, rudimentary chords and stiff beats from a plugged device, which Taylor fleshes out. The DIY modus operandi aims for immediacy, and the rather flimsy material is made up by sheer energy deployment. So far, so diverting but we're in for a surprise, as an unannounced James Brandon Lewis appears from behind the curtain. The tenorman made a stop between engagements in Sienna and Oslo, and endeavours to solo and trade lines with Mazurek in the incandescent fashion he's known for, giving the set a literal and figurative second wind. Lewis is of course familiar with Taylor who's a member of his quartet. Maybe establishing a tradition of having guest performers join them, the duo invited Darius Jones and Gerald Cleaver to be part of their Jazzfestival Saalfelden date a few days later. 

SML.Photo by Petra Cvelbar - Gulbenkian Música

And it's already the last day in convivial Lisbon before returning to the French furnace. SML- for Small Medium Large - hail from L.A., benefit from a fair amount of hype and already seem like a festivals' favorite (they played Paris' Sons d'hiver and will open Poland's Jazztopad next). The repetition-minded, cosily groovy quintet provides the edition's closing act. Drummer Booker Stardrum, electric bassist Anna Butterss, synth player Jeremiah Chiu, saxophonist Josh Johnson and guitarist Gregory Uhlmann form a musical autonomous zone, freed from the traditionally hierarchical organizations and song structures. In a consistently equalitarian approach, each member operates in the service of the whole, with no one attempting to single themselves out. Tellingly, there are no solos. The approach bears similarities with Joshua Abrams' Organic Music Society, without the spiritual decorum. The elements gel in sync, evolve almost imperceptibly, the headnodding music relying on laidback, unobstrusive bass lines, detached sax emissions and restrained playing from all. It succeeds at what it aims to do, but the downside is a lack of urgency, divergence and surprises. We're on a musical highway, seductive for sure but ultimately lacking in substance. Without much in the way of changes, the surface appeal of the rhythm-led jam stagnates and loses momentum halfway through an excessive 80+ minutes duration. Concertgoers should check SML out however and forge their own opinions about the band. In the final analysis, Jazz em Agosto offers such a range of musical acts and frameworks, that a diversity of points of views is inevitable, which is a good thing, a basis for debate and a weapon against rampant attempts at standardizing culture. 

See Part 1 here 

Read More

Jazz em Agosto, 42nd edition 2026 (Part 1)

By David Cristol

Jazz em Agosto took place over ten days in the heart of the summer, with a bold programming that has become the norm for the manifestation. Stellar line-ups and excellent listening conditions make the festival a favorite of audiences, artists and critics. With 14 concerts and the aim of "presenting the current creative and original state of jazz" according to artistic director Rui Neves, this year's edition was another winner. 

 

Joachim Kühn. Photo by Petra Cvelbar - Gulbenkian Música

The opening act was set in the big auditorium of the Gulbenkian Foundation. The supreme venue, which stage stands in front of large glass walls overlooking the Foundation's gardens with wildlife, previously welcomed ensembles by Nicole Mitchell, Nate Wooley, XT, as well as the Sylvie Courvoisier/Cory Smythe duo, and Shane Parish solo. The striking architecture gives an extra layer of grandeur to a rare solo performance by pianist Joachim Kühn, who was involved in all the developments of jazz since the 1960s. It's a celebration of the piano. He kicks things off with a 40-minute abstract improvisation. His stream-of-consciousness extemporizations initially owe more to classical music motions and impulses than to the jazz vocabulary, but prove terrific all the same, as his cavalcades of notes take the audience on a spontaneous and heartfelt journey, not relying on any trusted tricks or routines. What follows increasingly leans into free jazz territory. Kühn doesn't need a formal structure to let his ideas flow. Clear-cut melodies are eschewed in favor of waves and cells, forays into microscopic ruminations, dark lullabies and brooding ad-libs, slowly but surely leading to epic flights. The music shape-shifts, and goes in virtually any direction. No high concept, no extramusical discourse and no filler. It seems as if the fingers have a mind of their own, without ideas being filtered by the brain. As a double encore, we get two songs by Ornette Coleman : "Somewhere" and "Researching has no limits"- that title pretty well summing up the performance.

David Maranha and Rodrigo Amado. Photo by Petra Cvelbar - Gulbenkian Música

Day two starts with a duo of Lisbon-based artists, David Maranha and Rodrigo Amado. They join forces in the great-sounding auditorium 2, the indoors venue where the more experimental gigs take place in the late afternoons. Theirs is not a first encounter but a continued exploration, as evidenced on 2024's Wrecks and 2026's Desolation Row albums, both recommended to readers of this blog and with liner notes by master Stuart Broomer accompanying the newest title. An interesting tension arises from the association of Amado's jazz vocabulary and Maranha's electric organ and effects that build modal soundscapes and ambient layers for the tenor saxophonist to improvise, spout swirling motifs, throw raucous darts, focus on one repeated note or long-held growls, investigating the whole instrument's range in the spirit of freedom he's accustomed listeners to. Although the uninterrupted set doesn't seem to have a beginning, end or arc, it sustains interest throughout and is met with a standing ovation. 

Canyon. Photo by Petra Cvelbar - Gulbenkian Música

Another bona fide improvised set follows on the outdoors stage. A particularly exciting one for this listener, who sees Joe Morris live for the first time, after having enjoyed his recordings, on both bass and guitar, alongside well-known players as well as young talent, for a couple decades. It's Canyon's second gig only. The New York quartet, made up of Jerome Deupree (drums, of 1990s band Morphine and a colleague of Morris since 1985), Sylvie Courvoisier (prepared and unprepared piano), Lester St. Louis (cello) and Morris (double bass), have a self-titled double CD out on Fundacja Słuchaj. Morris was the honoree at this year's Vision Festival in June of this year. Total improv is always a risky endeavour, a collective walk on a tightrope. Courvoisier and St. Louis are extrovert players, the former digging into her repository of techniques and signature moves (percussive clangs, swarms of notes, playing on the strings to get a harpsichord-like sound...), the latter supplying creaks at breaking point and harmonics-filled glissandi, while the bass and drums pair maintain a collected, counter-spectacular bearing, Deupree a paragon of restraint on his instrument and Morris quietly connecting the dots and steering the ship. The initial scattering gradually gives way to keen mutual listening from band members, intent on making each other sound good without relinquishing their distinct temperaments. Once balance is found, there is nowhere the quartet can't go, with seamless transitions from busy waves to sparse lulls, impressionnistic sequences to rhythmical ones. A piano-less trio segment also engagingly reshuffles the deck for a while.

Shardik. Photo by Petra Cvelbar - Gulbenkian Música

A John Zorn-produced venture, Shardik is the brainchild of guitarist/composer Matt Hollenberg (Simulacrum), and brings a punk-funk spin on the metal-jazz genre, boasting bands such as Kilter and Imperial Triumphant and of which an early incarnation were Secret Chiefs 3, of which Hollenberg is now a member. Bubbly bass, heavy riffs, more bounce than your average kangaroo tribe, and themes that owe something to Zorn's Bagatelles, Masada and Dreamers songbooks. Not surprising considering how closely Hollenberg is involved with Manhattan's main magus - most currently with the Flatlands trio. Another obvious influence is that of the Mahavishnu Ochestra. Around Hollenberg are Sana Nagano on oddly-shaped electric violin, Nick Jost on electric bass and Danny Sher on drums. At times the music gels into delicious psychedelic concoctions - only for short spells though, for the imported, competitive New York ethos means hitting hard and running to the next phase without delay. However, the outdoors setting gives the whole thing a different perspective than the same music played in a Brooklyn club; Hollenberg savours the configuration where audience and band are united as in a ritual. Indeed this is no place for superficial consumerism, and the music is lent a sacred function with attendees ready to be moved, elevated, maybe changed. The song-length tunes are tightly organized, with sharp turns and millimetric cues. An athletic feat for the performers, with plenty of challenges to tackle. Not revolutionary maybe, but damn enjoyable, with the egoless relationship between members also working in the music's favor. The full Cruelty Bacchanal album is played, plus tunes from the previous album and an improvisation as the last number. Hollenberg is surprised at the request for an encore, New York audiences seemingly having enough after shorter sets! 

Fred Moten & Brandon Lopez. Photo by Petra Cvelbar - Gulbenkian Música

Next up is the politically aware duo of thinker and poet Fred Moten and bassist Brandon Lopez. Double bass with poetry reading is a rare sight, at least for European audiences, but it belongs to an age-old US tradition going back to Lenny Bruce, Jack Kerouac and the Beat poets encounters with jazzmen, from the 1940s onwards. The fact that Sonny Stitt and Zoot Sims are namechecked reinforces that connection. After all, jazz and poetry are a meaningful combination of two rebellious, social-conscious artforms. A pair of bongos stands between both artists and they caress it with the palm of the hand or give it finger taps, while also coaxing sounds from the double bass, humming along in the case of Lopez and triggering foley sounds and jazz samples from a laptop, as sound signifiers, for Moten. The lyrics are laden with references to jazzmen and jazz tunes as well as early hip-hop wordsmiths. The delivery is low-key, poised, with a slightly ironical distance. The bass adapts to the mood and rhythm of the words, and provides punctuation. The abstruse or metaphorical character of the texts makes it difficult to fully grasp their meaning in one listen. But they also work as purely sonic elements, reaching ears and minds. In addition to playing the bass in orthodox fashion, Lopez generates murmurs by polishing the wood of its body. A fearless programming choice typical of Jazz em Agosto and one of this edition's best. 

L.U.M.E. Photo by Petra Cvelbar - Gulbenkian Música

L.U.M.E. aka Lisbon Underground Music Ensemble is a well-oiled machine which 20th-year celebration offers a pot-pourri of the Ensemble's history, without a perceivable unifying theme or statement of intent. It encompasses everything from early jazz to 1970s jazz-rock, disco and Steve Reich repetition, the whole thing as remote from 2026 trends as it gets, and heedless to the world's turmoil. Fine soloists bring the colorful, light-hearted, sometimes openly comedic arrangements to life, with leader/composer/pianist/keyboardist Marco Barroso conducting improvised ensemble passages with a sure hand.

Bonbon Flamme. Photo by Petra Cvelbar - Gulbenkian Música

In the Fifties and Sixties, Dave Brubeck came back from world tours with a series of "Impressions" albums - from the U.S.A., New York, Japan and Eurasia. Likewise, French cellist Valentin Ceccaldi came back from a trip to Mexico with flavors, tones and textures in mind, which inspired him to found the quartet Bonbon Flamme with a team of like-minded players to serve his polychromatic purpose. What we get amounts to a European version of Tropicalia, with the help of Lisbon guitar-hero Luis Lopes, free agent keyboardist Fulco Ottervanger and jittery drummer Etienne Ziemniak. Ceccaldi also admits to a passion for Alan Shorter's Orgasm, which might give another clue as to the unlabelable hodgepodge unveiled. Feathery downtempo numbers and ecstatic rock workouts share an intoxicating psychedelic bent, that makes use of simple riffs, crackling synthesizer sounds, twangy effects, disorienting arrangements with initial structural landmarks blurring and disappearing into floriferous freeform jams. Solos are short and enmeshed in the compositions. A hypnotizing voyage, with an immaculate first half-hour, and final song "Tres Calaveras" a climax - a pensive guitar-cello vehicle, with Ottervanger's high-pitched, wordless vocals turning it into a musical cousin of Hermeto Pascoal's moody "Little Church". The charged, raspy rock forays, hallucinogenic abstractions as well as the infinitely tender pieces are nothing short of greatness. However, the spell is temporarily endangered by a couple tongue-in-cheek pieces, with cutesy synth sounds and attempts at cartoonish humor. This caveat notwithstanding, a brilliant set.

Read More

Anthony Braxton 4tet - Live in Châteauvallon 1973

Here’s Anthony Braxton from 1973 playing with a quartet featuring the late, great trumpeter Kenny Wheeler, with Jean-François Jenny-Clark on bass and Charles "Bobo" Shaw on drums. They are performing Braxton’s compositions 23C, B and D. The first is one of Braxton’s wonderfully knotty yet hummable compositions and the rest of the band happily keeps pace.

There’s lots of space for improvisation, with Braxton playing his usual wide variety of horns. Kenny Wheeler is a delight to hear in any setting and he seems to love playing these Braxton compositions. The video gets bonus marks for Braxton’s 70s sideburns which are truly a thing of beauty.

Read More

Antoine Chessex & Dave Phillips - Vrhaltnis (Coherent States-Krim Kram Records, 2026)

By Fotis Nikolakopoulos

Coming, both artists, from different fields of sound and audio making, one might ask why this recording is being presented here. Of course this is never an easy answer, but having to defend my choice, I’d say that the key word is improvisation. Not as a genre on its own, one that should define the sound produced by those two sound makers. Predominantly as a way of thinking, a practice that involves rethinking of old material and producing new only by being open to what will happen next.

Both artists, Antoine Chessex and Dave Phillips, have a long history in sound making (I would like to insist in this term rather than music making) and a long standing friendship too. They have been exchanging ideas and playing together for the past twenty years. Actually the source material for the two tracks consisting this CD, dates back two decades ago from a live performance in, and some studio time, in Switzerland.

Coming to the key word for this release, one that also involves chance, this material was reworked and manipulated in such a way that what is new and what is old, in terms of sound, is impossible to distinguish. Obviously and always there’s a lot of hard work behind all this, behind trying to present something new. One could say that this release borders at what we call noise, but this is the 21 ^st century and who can really tell or put exact limits on what we are listening? It could also be musique concrete. When Albert Ayler was blowing his sax, wasn’t it called non-music or, even, “noise”?

The two tracks unfold in a non linear way, denying, I believe, the gestures of time keeping (“what is old and what is new” exactly) or what is normal when you listen to a recording. They tend to breathe in and out, like inhaling sounds and exhaling sentiments, morphing, as you listen more and more, into a shapeless entity that has only sound in its definition. No genre, label or whatever else pins down free expression. Totally liberated in many ways.

Listen here:
 

Read More

Sopie Duner & Anthony Coleman - Messed Up Stride (Urlicht AudioVisual, 2026)

By Sammy Stein 

Sophie Duner has released albums both as a solo artist and alongside names including Gene Ptirsker, Jeremy Harman, and Dominic Duval, as well as with the Callino Quartet. Her musical style is eclectic, and while she remains rooted in jazz, her free-wheeling and versatile talent means she can switch to almost any genre.

On her album Messed Up Stride, Duner teams with pianist Anthony Coleman, a well-known avant-garde pianist who worked with John Zorn on several projects in the 1980s and 90s. He has been in groups Sephardic Tinge and Selfhaters and has been involved in many projects across the world.

The PR describes this as a ‘fearless album,’ and it is that. It was recorded at Atlantis Studios, Stockholm, the studio behind ABBA's "Waterloo," "Dancing Queen," and "Mamma Mia."

About the recording, Duner comments, “‘ Messed-Up Stride’ is the result of a musical vision I’ve had in mind for quite some time. I’m really grateful that pianist Anthony Coleman picked up on my idea for these slightly twisted, stride-inspired tunes! We certainly had fun recording them.”

Duner has worked on some of the compositions for 15 years, and in Coleman she comments, “He really sounds like an entire group. He was exactly the pianist I needed."

The music draws on Charles Mingus, Eric Mingus, George Antheil, Charles Ives, Scott Joplin, John Zorn, Fats Waller, Marc Ribot, and more. The album delivers songs that are pointed, witty, inimitable, and memorable– and nothing that you would expect given the influences. Duner and Coleman seemingly delight in taking themes, rotating them, adding snippets from familiar jazz numbers, and adding their twist. Coleman maintains a (more or less) traditional ingredient with steadfast backing, rhythmic pattern, and some really well-worked solo work, which tempers Duner, who is often off on a journey of her own – yet, despite this, she never loses the connection with what Coleman is doing in his interpretations.

‘Mad World’ is a wonderful opener and exploration of vocal techniques and range. Duner’s character shines like a laser, while her voice soars and dips in seemingly chaotic but actually thoughtful, controlled ways. The track was inspired by the Bulgarian Voices Choir and is a story of contrasts – bitter burning sweet, and chaos finding its groove. Duner’s voice is mesmerising, but couple that with rolling, thunderous, deeply textured piano from Coleman, and it is no wonder this track hits home and engages like an electric charge to the brain. There are gentle phrases too, which contrast beautifully with the tuneful, throaty rasps that Duner delivers.

In Contrast, ‘Two Rabbits on Wall Street’ is a staccato-laced, forcefully delivered number with sudden outlets of energy and rivulets of scat, all across some hearty and well-honed boogie woogie, amongst other styles, which Coleman switches in and out of in mercurial ease. This polytonal number in 9/4 was inspired by porcelain rabbits sold on Wall Street – a meditation on the illusion of money as magic. Frenetic, polytonal, and arrhythmic at times, this is a wonderful number.

‘Better Get Hit In Your Soul’ features a solo intro from Coleman before he settles into a bluesy, rhythmic pattern, across which Duner scats and muses, across Coleman’s now stride style as he pounds left-hand rhythms across the keyboard. Those rhythms are familiar, as this number is a cover of Mingus’s work. Duner studied with Eric Mingus, so no wonder the Mingus touch is there, affected so respectfully by Coleman. Dener’s voice is shown in its instrumental glory on this number.

‘Complicated Love Affair’ is aptly named for its changeable musical concepts, but what stands out is Dener’s voice – she purrs, she slides and glides, and her range is over three octaves here – from chest voice to operatic virtuosity, she delivers with aplomb across Coleman’s empathic playing.

‘Watch Your Pitch Bitch’ is a slightly deranged number delivered with tongue-in-cheek sassiness, and Coleman definitely feels the energy on this one, delivering perfectly timed counterpoint chords, while ‘Mad Monk’ is a gorgeous play on Monkish themes, that bass line working hard, over which Duner’s vocals float like a madcap whirlwind. A brilliant number.

‘I Ain't Taking Orders From No One’ is as feisty as it sounds, and Duner delivers brilliantly, while Coleman maintains a calming influence in his gentler riffs and rhythm patterns.

‘Post Traumatic Ripoff’ was inspired by the changing world we live in and the emotional costs of being taken advantage of. Duner lets rip, duetting with herself, in this strangely cathartic number.

‘Reharmonized Boyfriend’ is sharp, contrasting with softer phrases, and was inspired by the everlasting circle of relationships and going back to routine.

This album is a beautifully delivered concept and shows how two musicians from different arenas can come together to create something special. Coleman’s sense of rhythm, alongside Duner’s eclectic but somehow cohesive music-making skills, creates an engaging sense of involvement. The recording does what so many truly good recordings do, and that is, they deliver music that offers the listener layers – first it sounds chaotic, then the realisation of the way they work in contrast and also harmony hits until the deep connection between the musicians is clear.

Read More

Henry Threadgill’s Zooid - Cut You Where You Was (Pi Recordings, 2026)

By Brian Earley

 

Recorded history may be a boon to humanity, but it has also benefited the privileged. How many stories have fallen silent once all witnesses have passed away? Even more troubling is the reality that many of the earliest recordings, both in writing and in audio, fell to those who were privileged enough to have access to time, education, and materials. If you were taught how to write and read, and happened to be near paper, say in 4000 BCE Asia or 150 BCE Greece, you may have had the historical honor of writing something down. In the United States at the dawn of the audio recording industry, a box of two or three wax cylinders might cost you $15 apiece, depending on what inflation calculator you use. This is to say nothing of the price of the recording or playback equipment involved. If you didn’t have the cash, you weren’t going to be recording anything unless somebody who did have the cash wanted to make a profit off of recording you.

 

And all of this only begins the discussion I think Henry Threadgill is most interested in on the Zooid’s latest release Cut You Where You Was. The notes on the Pi Recordings website say that Threadgill is fascinated by early audio recording processes. One of the most notable of these qualities is the frustratingly short duration available for each recording. You don’t think Louis Armstrong didn’t want to stretch out on those Hot Fives Chicago takes?

 

So, here we are in 2026 with digital recording and what can sometimes feel like an overabundance of preserved information. A musician who has access to these tools, has recorded numerous legendary works, has released a high-profile book on his life, and has won the Pulitzer Prize, uses his platform to explore what might happen if you have something important to say, but have limited technology to preserve that statement.

 

Cut You Where You Was, while containing two songs in the six to ten minute range, features some of the Zooid’s shortest pieces to date. Five of the ten tracks do not even reach the two minute mark. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing the first full listen I completed of the album. Seriously, I thought a glitch had occurred, because there was no way that, say “Lightnin’,” the eighth song on the album, was only one and a half minutes long.

 

What I find fascinating about this album is what it does with these self-imposed, self-conscious, music-socio-exploratory limitations.

 

Listen, for example, to a trio of works titled “Bingo.” Each track, labeled “Part 1,” “Part 2,” and “Part 3” clearly are intended to be understood as one set, three parts to one work. Threadgill, who uses his flute to spend “Part 1” interacting delicately with tuba player Jose Davila and guitarist Liberty Ellman, sounds all but cut-off when the work ends around the 2:10 mark. “Part 2” then picks up with the band approaching full tilt, with flute, tuba and guitar much more kinetic. To me, it feels like I have missed something, the development between these two sections is gone. “Part 3” then opens with Threadgill on an insistent percussive alto sax. Now drummer Elliot Humberto Kavee produces thundering rolls on toms and Christopher Hoffman saws away on cello. Where did this new energy and altered instrumentation come from? The music, beautiful as it may be, seems like it has had sections gone unrecorded until the engineer replaced the new wax cylinder or fed the new tape into the four track machine. 

 

This brevity, in turn, allows listeners to perceive just how much is missed with “Red Admiral Red Moon Rising.” Cutting the album directly in half at track number five, “Red Moon” is the most expansive of these new works and lasts over twelve minutes. The piece features gorgeously lyrical cello work by Hoffman, who uses variations of Threadgill’s intervallic compositional system to paint a single line that eventually sweeps across the sonic atmosphere until it chortles into a section of staccato bow strokes and a final downward glissando that Threadgill echoes when he follows with his own solo. So much of Threadgill’s solo speaks back to Hoffman that I wonder if large sections have been written out. If so, their voices mimic a conversation among close friends. If improvised, their voices are a conversation among close friends. Ellman then enters with a guitar solo, also closely mirroring the melodic and rhythmic material from the saxophone solo. It turns out that when intelligent voices are given a chance to speak, they have important information to relay. 

 

The eighth Zooid album, falling some twenty-five years after the band’s first recording Up Popped The Two Lips, demonstrates again just how much music Threadgill has in him and how clearly intricate and malleable the intervallic system of composing and improvising can be. This is far more than some academic exercise for a panel of Columbia jurors. Cut You Where You Was allows listeners to examine what happens when voices are silenced and to witness what is missing when these voices fully enter the conversation. And if one needs any more evidence that this is an important document, one can simply look at how many voices have been officially cut out of the conversation in the United States in just the month that has followed the record’s August 2026 release. Cut You Where You Was has already proven prescient. And, despite the trenchant insight of its art, I wish it were less so. 

 

Cut You Where You Was can be heard here: 

 

Read More

Wenchi Lazo and Luciana Bass - Mientras Exista (Self-released, 2026)

By Hrayr Attarian

Argentinian guitarists Wenchi Lazo and Luciana Bass are intrepid improvisers and virtuosic performers. In solo settings or in a group, both push the boundaries of musical expression and aren't afraid to experiment. is their first recorded collaboration, and it is a stimulating set of seven duets that not only demonstrates their camaraderie but also their superb individual musicianship.

The pieces are intimate and mostly contemplative. “Con Reglos”, for instance, is made up of sparse strums and single notes that echo in the intervening pauses. The tempo increases at the midpoint, but then the introspective dialogue returns to its quiet yet expectant mood. Both artists anticipate one another’s phrases and respond with poignancy and grace, even when they embrace thrilling dissonance.

In contrast, “Porción de Sigio” is more mellifluous and serene. The shimmering exchanges build a darkly abstract ambiance. At times, the blend of ethereal sounds and lyricism gives the tune an otherworldly, lullaby-like aura. The result is a haunting and poetic conversation, or rather an overlap of two complementary yet distinct monologues.

At times, the improvisations grow fiery, and the interplay between Lazo and Bass becomes delightfully riotous. “Si Lo Zamarrea el Chucho” is a dense and passionate soundscape, with each guitarist taking their turn weaving twangy lines and blistering chords into a provocative, spontaneous creation. The mood is spirited and exciting, with hefty doses of both angst and whimsy.

The album closes with the haunting and futuristic “Poncho Gradual”. Here, the pair uses silence as a third band member, carefully positioning their melodic fragments for a memorable effect. Thus, the track feels like a theme for an eerie, transcendent ritual and the perfect conclusion to this brilliant, absorbing recording.

Mientras Existais a beautiful work that is not self-indulgent, even though it demands close listening. For those who are willing to surrender to its charm, however, it makes for an intensely rewarding experience.

Read More

Sunny Murray/Sabu Toyozumi - Sun’s Blessings (Nobusiness Records, 2026)

By Ferruccio Martinotti

Ah, what gifts music offers us! Forgive such a banal intro, but it's the first thought that comes to mind just by having an album like this in our hands, even before listening to it. We're faced with a true Clash of the Titans, or rather, a Clash of the Eras that gives rise to a historical moment. The date is April 4, 1999, and the host of this "Rumble In The Mountain" is Hokkaido, Sapporo's Zippy Hall, a small venue with a capacity of 130 (lucky them…) people. 

On one side of the ring, from Idabel, Oklahoma, James Marcellus Arthur "Sunny" Murray, embodying the Classic Period of our music and the incredible epic that permeated it. Among the first, along with Milford Graves, to unchain the drums from purely rhythmic tasks and push them to explore uncharted timbral textures, Murray was the sword arm of Cecil Taylor and Albert Ayler, with whom he recorded At The Café Montmartre and Spiritual Unity, two albums that moved The Clock forward 20 years, to which it is ontologically impossible to attribute any star. His collaborations with Archie Shepp, Dave Burrell, Arthur Doyle, and David Murray are extraordinary, while his hyper saturated solo release Sonny’s Time Now, (Ayler, Cherry, Grimes and Worrell to complete the monstrous line-up), is in the Hall of Fame of our all-time favorites. “One of those crucial figures in jazz who appear just when they are needed”, said Val Wilmer about him. 

On the opposite side of the square, from Yokohama, Japan, sits Yoshisaburo “Sabu” Toyozumi, an affiliate, together with Kaoru Abe, Masayuki Takayanagi, Masahiko Togaghi, Masahiko Sato and Mototeru Takagi, with the Sonic Terrorists Squad that pushed free music where no one thought it was possible. We've always liked to think that, if the Free of the '60s was the punk of jazz, the subsequent European school was its hardcore declination, but from the Land of the Rising Sun they pulverized even this, going further, much further. Since you're here, this is probably a redundant suggestion, but if by chance you haven't already, by all means get Soejima Teruto's book Free Jazz in Japan: A Personal History, an unmissable account of that period and those fearless characters. In 1971, Toyozumi became the first non-American member of the AACM and in the following years actively participated in inviting some of his Masters, such as Broetzmann, Bailey, Mengelberg, and Murray himself, to play in Japan. The Clash of Sapporo, which unfolds through two songs, "Mischievous Saga" and "Brave Warriors," is not wrestling, it's a real fight between top-notch Heavyweights, punching with nothing but their drums and cymbals, no other instruments, no post-production. 

While we'd listened to (without being too keen on) a few solo drums records, an outfit like this represents an absolute novelty for us, one that has won us over unconditionally. Don't get misled by figuring out an individual, sterile show of strength, since here we have by both the contenders, the clear, shared aim to join forces to generate a brand new Mega Rhythm. It would be perhaps a sterile exercise to talk about interplay between two drummers, but what emerges from the album in an absolutely compelling way is the willingness (there's no need to waste a single syllable on their skills, obviously) of the two Champions to mutually find common ground, within dynamics that are sometimes seismic, sometimes more delicate (relatively speaking...), or to leave part of these spaces to the other, in a smooth and natural way, without the listener feeling like one of them is putting down the drumsticks for a while. 

Not easy listening for sure, but Forum’s readers will certainly have no problems tackling this 65 minutes of challenging music from a one of a kind, extraordinary album. No ifs or buts. 

 

Read More

Lao Dan and Vasco Trilla @ Old Heaven Books

While doing a little browsing about the NoBusiness record label's website, this video jumped out - a performance by the masterful musicians Lao Dan and Vasco Trilla (woodwinds and percussion, respectively). The duo released a recording together on the label called New Species in 2025 and this performance was captured at Old Heaven Books in Shenzhen, China. 

The first two video's of the performance are shared here, in which we first encounter Lao Dan playing a traditional Chinese clarinet-like instrument, followed by part two where he switches wooden flute. The later links to parts 3 and 4 lead to Trilla's Youtube channel where the saxophone come into play.

 

 Part 1

 

Part 2

See: Part 3 & Part 4 

Read More

Ivo Perelman and Matt Shipp - Duologues 7: Distillation (Squid Note, 2026)

By Sammy Stein

Pianist Matthew Shipp and tenor saxophonist Ivo Perelman have developed a three-decade-long musical relationship where both musicians explore improvisation in a collaboration that continues to develop. Each of them plays with different musicians and continues on their individual musical journey, but when they come together, the distillation of the experience results in an ever-developing relationship and one where each allows the other to bring whatever new ideas they have to the table, no matter if these are predictable or unexpected, disruptive, and revelatory.

As they continually circle back to each other and record, the language of their music changes in subtle ways. Both musicians have played alongside and collaborated with many other musicians, while they remain powerfully individual; their shared knowledge shines through in their collaborations.

What comes of three decades or more of collaboration is an immediacy of reaction and interaction – a kind of musical telepathy that is difficult to capture but is apparent to the listener. Neither always leads nor always follows, but both revel in shifting emphasis, nuances that only come from playing with someone over time. This is reflected by the way one will introduce a new idea, or pathway, and the other will reflect the same idea, not as imitation but as recognition – a deep, intuitive echo.

Their playing has become not so much a conversation, as is often the case between improvising musicians listening intently to each other, but is more of a shared delivery, a unanimous development of ideas shared with the listener.

Both have worked in larger configurations, but the saxophone-piano duo reveals each at their most exposed and far from the prosaic. Their previous projects have shown their duo evolution from different perspectives, demonstrating how freely improvised music can acquire coherence not through predetermined structure but through accumulated trust, memory and intense listening.

Duologue 7: Distillation sees Perelman and Shipp back in the exposed, elemental setting of just piano and sax and one-take sessions of completely improvised recordings that give enough material for two CDs. There is no need to explain; there is just the music and the melodic fragments, insertions of traditional tunes alongside completely improvised phrases, silence (which is used so effectively), rhythmic pattern changes, sudden register switches, and a duologue that at times is expressed almost as voices rather than music, as both musicians find the full range of their instruments.

With Shipp and Perelman, there is no revisiting history, no repeating of anything that has gone before, but a new dialogue each time, bringing with it the familiar rhythmic intensity, changes, and multi-register expression, but also new ideas, perhaps picked up in the time they spend apart in other projects, and they challenge, support and improvise alone as feels right, communicating their deep and long-lasting collaboration but also offering the listener a new take on just how good music can be with no score.

The two-CD set comprises nine tracks on disc 1 and ten on disc two, numbered, as ever, track 1-9 (disc 1) and 10-19 (disc 2), and there is something for every Shipp or Perelman aficionado – or anyone with a love of freely improvised music. From the gentleness and conversational tone of track 1, where the music evolves from a to and fro to a gentle, swingy back and forth with fewer spaces between responses, to the classical-meets-improvised styles on track 3, or the intensity and depth of Track 4, the playfulness of track 5 or the divergent parts of Track 9, there is a lot to take in. On Disc 2, the explorative quality of the music is more evident, with Perelman setting up ideas more on this second part of the release. On Tracks 10 to 14, Perelman travels some unconventional roads on tenor sax with Shipp supporting, and then in Track 15 it is Shipp who dictates the atmosphere and thematic tone of the number.

Distillation is a CD set that invites exploration and several listens. You can hear the classical leanings of both musicians, but also the application of known musical concepts to create improvised music that comes not just from an idea in the brain but is coupled with a sound understanding of how tonality and relativity of the notes and parts affect the outcome.

This is improvised music in its truest form, not so much a musical relationship, but an ever-evolving force.

Read More