Two from Lao Dan

By Keith Prosk

Flautist and saxophonist Lao Dan transgresses Chinese folk-tinged free jazz into the realm of noise and punk, such is the spirit and energy of his playing. His sonic lineage might include Paul Flaherty, Wally Shoup, or Steve Baczkowski, the first with which he recorded Live At Willimantic Records a couple years ago. I cover a fiery quartet and saxophone solo, though this year he has also released a smoother, quieter solo featuring more flute in The Song of the Uninhabited Island and a more traditional-tinged duo in 互念暗语 Hu Nian An Yu with Li Daiguo, recorded at the same festival as Burning Bookshop II.

Masayo Koketsu, Lao Dan, Deng Boyu, Li Daiguo - Burning Bookshop II (Old Heaven Books, 2020) ****

Burning Bookshop II is the successor to the freewheeling frenzy of the first Burning Bookshop , which also featured Japanese and Chinese improvisers playing the Old Heaven bookstore during the OCT-LOFT festival, specifically Yosuke Yamashita’s quartet (minus the pianist) and Lao and Deng. Here, Masayo Koketsu (alto sax) joins Lao (alto sax and dizi) and Deng (drums), with Li (pipa) hopping in for the second half of the 37-minute set. Deng and Lao are frequent collaborators, playing together as Red Scarf and on Crossing A River By Rope with John McCowen, Theresa Wong, and Li Xing. As are Lao and Li, between the aforementioned Hu Nian An Yu and 奔波灞与灞波奔在旧天堂. Koketsu has not previously recorded with the players here, but she did just release Japan Suite with François Carrier, Daisuke Fuwa, and Takashi Itani this year.

Koketsu and Lao begin the set with a prologue, alternating solos while the other does a circular flutter. There’s a few squeals, hinting the noise to come, and there’s a moment of total resonance with each other. Then the drums hit. The crowd starts hollering. And the freak out doesn’t stop until “Improvisation 1” ends. Deng’s style is an octopus-armed, heavy-handed carpet bombing of hits that sometimes locks into a rock groove, a motorik beat, a club beat. Koketsu and Lao’s twin snakes wail and whoop, winding higher and higher until they lock into a tune with Deng, often choosing romping carnivalesque motifs. There’s an energy here I’ve not heard in some time, a sentiment echoed by the elated crowd. It’s capital F J free jazz but it’s not stale. One of the most infectiously exhilarating tracks I’ve heard this year thus far.

“Improvisation 2” meanders a bit at first, with greater folk leanings, beginning with Lao on dizi with trance-induced voicings, a detuned warped pipa from Li, and Koketsu’s airy alto melodies. The crowd goes wild again as Lao switches back to alto and Deng’s drums kick in. This time, the group noodles less, often flitting directly from groove to groove, almost sounding more like collaged pop than improv at times, with a particularly awesome moment of pipa shredding that nearly sounds like surf guitar tremolo over Deng’s rock beat. Similar but less concise than the first track. But the whole set is wild and well worth hearing.

Burning Bookshop II is available on cassette and digitally.

Lao Dan - Chinese Medicine (Dusty Ballz, 2020) ***½

Chinese Medicine is also 37 minutes, though across three tracks, and features Lao on tenor sax, an instrument he’s rarely if ever recorded with, and zheng, a Chinese zither which he chooses to play simultaneously with his feet. His tenor is janus-faced, alternately tea kettle squeals, petulant buzzing flies, and grass-blade whistling juxtaposed with soulful melodies ribbed by smoky, raspy vibrato. Some of his skronk might sound like one of Steve Lacy’s ducks, though on a particularly pinchy day. Lao peppers in overblows, honks, slap tonguing, key clicks, and hollers. And zheng, which sees occasional solo interludes but is often strummed, plucked, and banged while playing saxophone. It’s a melange of folk, jazz, and noise, a crash of eastern and western musics. Fun and worthwhile, especially for his use of instruments he’s yet to record with, though there’s a certain momentum missing here that’s often present in his ensemble recordings.

Chinese Medicine is available on cassette and digitally.

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RIP Toshinori Kondō 近藤等則 (December 15, 1948 - October 17, 2020)

Toshinori Kondo (Photos by Eyal Hareuveni)

By Eyal Hareuveni

The great Japanese trumpeter Toshinori Kondo passed away peacefully on the night of Saturday, October 17, 2020, his sons Kuta and Yota informed on his website. Kondō was one of the prominent, pioneers of the free-jazz and free-improv in the Japanese scene, but as one of the hippest and coolest musicians around his musical tastes knew no limits. He began his musical career in the mid-seventies with English theater and film director Peter Brook and soon joined pianist Yosuke Yamashita.

Kondō relocated to New York in 1978 and there he assimilated quickly with the downtown, free-improv scene, playing alongside Bill Laswell, John Zorn, Henry Kaiser, Eugene Chadbourne, Tom Cora, and Andrea Centazzo. There he came up with an electric pickup for the trumpet, inserted into the shank’s of his trumpet’s mouthpiece, rather in the front of the bell, so he could hear himself among the massive sonic commotion his comrades were making, and allowing himself to crank up the volume but also to produce an imaginative array of unworldly sounds. “Most trumpet players think the trumpet is a musical instrument to make sound with breathing”, Kondō said in an interview with Japan Times, “but I found it) is a musical instrument to express breathing.”

Soon Kondō began to solidify working relations with European free-improv musicians and later moved to Amsterdam in 1993. The list of his European comrades includes such innovative improvisers as Derek Bailey, Peter Kowald, Tristan Honsinger, Han Bennink, Paul Lovens, Paul Lytton, and his most important colleague, Peter Brötzmann. With Brötzmann he founded one of the best free-jazz meets free-improv bands of the nineties, the post-Ayler quartet Die Like A Dog (with double bass player William Parker and drummer Hamid Drake), and its incarnation a decade later, Hairy Bones (with drummer Paal Nilssen-Love and electric bass player Massimo Pupillo), and continued to collaborate with Brötzmann in different formats throughout the years.

But Kondō wanted to explore more, always asking himself what’s next? He began a series of site-related, meditative solo improvisations in 1993 titled 'Blow the Earth', first in the Israeli Negev desert and later in Peru’s Machu Picchu, the Ladakh Himalaya region in India, and different sites in Japan (NHK documentary film about this project led to credit-card commercials and co-starring in popular Japanese TV dramas). In 1984 he founded his Japanese fusion band Kondō IMA that hosted Ryuichi Sakamoto , Kazumi Watanabe, and many others, and kept working with this band until last year (its last album Typhoon 19 (LIVE) was released earlier this year). Kondō embraced hip-hop and collaborated with Japanese DJ Krush, recorded with the Dalai Lama (and Laswell, Life, space, Death, Meta, 2001). He even recorded a set of standards recently (You Don't Know What Love Is (Toshinori Kondō Plays Standards), Plankton, 2015), and during the pandemic lockdown he released on his Bandcamp page a series of solo recordings envisioning a world 'Beyond Corona.'

Kondō disclosed a typical insight and advice in his interview with Japan Times. “Listening to music is like making love on the bed. Almost the same. Which means for musicians, for club owners, they have to set up the best sound situation for lovers”. And: “I really want to say to younger musicians in the world: ‘Fuck the last century’s music. You guys should make this century’s music”.

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Luise Volkmann & Didier Matry - Wünsche (Umland, 2019) ****½

By Stef Gijssels

A little late, but still worth mentioning, this unusual and unique trio of alto sax, church organ and church. It was recorded at night in the Saint-Augustin church in Paris in March 2018. The German altoist Luise Volkmann was then 26 years old. The French organist Didier Matry was then 60 years old. The church was then 158 years old ... and yet the three of them, the alto, the organ and the church bring a wonderful musical synthesis, built around eight tracks, of which six are titled "wishes" and two "improvisation", which makes me assume that there are some agreed structural parts present. 

The church itself plays a role: it creates the resonance of the music, the sonic reverbaration against dome, nave, aisles, columns and transepts. It is the sound board, it sets the atmosphere of reverence and mysticism. 

Most of the pieces are subdued, with eery organ tones and slightly moaning sax tones merging creatively to some as yet unheard aural blending, with tones moving towards each other, trying to find common ground between these two unlikely ensemble instruments. The small alto and the huge organ. The organ is actually celebrated in the world of organ building (I read on Wikipedia): the church's main organ was built by Charles Spackman Barker. One of the earliest organs to employ electricity, it features 54 stops with three 54-key manual keyboards and pedalboards.

But on some tracks, "Improvisation #1"  the organ sound is nothing but brutal, loud, voluminous and majestic, as if all keys are used at the same time, putting the sax on the defence, which has to react in high-pitched screams yet they find their common ground in toned-down subtlety and then silence. On the following track - "Wunsche #5: Lächeln from Fremden auf der Strasse" (Wish #5: the laughter of strangers in the street), the loudness is kept and the sax wails in agony over the dark pumping organ tones. For Didier Matry, who is the actual organist of the church since 1997, and a Gold Medalist of the "Conservatoire Supérieur de Paris" (among many other awards), this kind of music must be completely alien, and definitely to be performed in the church. The most amazing thing is that he manages to play this free and avant-garde music with vigour and finesse. Possibly the church also never had the chance to be part of such music before. 

My favorite track is "Wunsch #7: Mehr Tanzen" (wish #7: to dance more), a piece where the counterpoint between the two instruments is pushed to the limits as an amazing dance between the bombastic and the fragile. 

Other tracks are more refined, developed like lace, quiet, precise, subtle. 

But then it is finished. Again. And it is too short, a little over half an hour. You listen again. 

In all the multitude of music that is produced, sometimes something unique appears. This is one of these albums. The sound is unique, the synthesis between genres and styles and the creative development into something new, as well as the willingness of two artists to bridge all the gaps of age and instrument and language and throw themselves with open mind and open heart into an initiative such as this one. 

I can only recommend that you take the jump with them, into the musical unknown. When you take your chances, when you take risks, something you fall of the tightrope, but sometimes, as is the case here, you  manage to cross the bridge and find success. 

Listen download from Bandcamp. 

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Merzbow, Mats Gustafsson, Balasz Pandi – Cuts Open (RareNoise, 2020) *****

By Daniel Böker

I am very thankful to RareNoise Records for publishing the “Cuts” records series. That’s what it is to me at least, a series.

In 2013, Merzbow, Mats Gustafsson and Balazs Pandi released a record under the name cuts. It was an amazing and disturbing listening experience. Listening for the first time, I remember the sheer force and power of the noise. I didn’t recognize any structures or notice calm, relaxing moments. It was noise in its purest form, and I was shocked. I had to listen to it again, and again. (During these repeat listenings, I eventually found some loose structures and rhythm, especially in Pandi's drumming.)

To bring this sound one step further, the trio became a quartet on the next two records: Cuts of Guilt, Cuts Deeper and Cuts Up, Cuts Out. They joined forces with Thurston Moore. What happened is what one could expect: the noise raged on. Unimpeded.

As I’ve listened to the albums and during the years, I have realized a few things happening in the music, especially that Pandi is keeping the whole thing together. His drumming is tight and fierce. It reminds the listener that there might have been something like rock or metal in his musical background. But he expands on this background, leaving it behind and sometimes the whole thing sounds as if all the bridges are burned to ashes. (Listen to the second track on cuts: “deep lines.cuts.”)

With Mats Gustafsson it was one of the first times I realized that he was using more and more electronics. In this setting I find it rather difficult to distinguish between electronic sounds and high pitched reeds or electronic altered sounds of the saxophone. And maybe it doesn’t matter in the context of this trio. All that matters was the force the intensity of the whole thing.

So this is the story before 2020 (for the listener, the record was recorded in 2018). We are back again with the trio that started the whole thing.

The new album “Cuts Open” was recently released, and it starts with… not silence but a few percussive (gong, cymbal) sounds. And space in between. Merzbow (I guess) starts with some white noise in the background, or on the ground might be the better image. Because it is not in the back but rather lays a foundation. Pandi stays with some gongs and percussion sounds. There is more electronic there to be heard (Gustafsson I guess) and it is intense.

Compared to the other three records (the metal albums of the noise-noise trio if I might say so), this is the rock or even pop album of the same noise-noise trio. Does that make any sense? I will try to get into it a little bit more.

A good way to get into it might be the change after the first 7 minutes of the first track: you hear Gustafsson play some spares sounds on the flute in almost complete silence around him. Before and after that there is percussion, drums and electronic. But in a much more differentiated way than on the records before.

On the second track you can hear Gustafsson breath through his saxophone! I mention this as an example of the airy sound on the record. Later there is a sound like the wind. As if it wanted me or you to hear that there is a lot more air to breath in the record. But the same track is intense and “speaks” of fear or other feelings that might take your breath away. From there the piece moves into the direction of a wall of sound without getting there completely.

To compare this record with the ones before: on Cuts there is no building of a wall of sound, because it starts there. We are already on it. With this album the three musicians discover the way to that wall and away from that wall.

I realize it is hard to describe: the three berserkers of noise-jazz-experimental music (whatever you might call it) might have proven everything there is to prove on the noisy side of town, so this time they are ready to relax, to open the space for each other, to explore the calmer side of noise town. It is still an intense record. The components are more or less the same but with space in between. (I wrote that a few lines before but it is still true.)

I don’t know if it is true to say that this is the best record the trio (quartet) ever made. It is a surprise. It is amazing to see (hear) these musicians take a bold step in a new direction without loosing everything they are known for. Without loosing intensity.

I recommend the whole cuts series. I recommend this one.

I recommend to get them as LP or CD because, besides all the music, the artwork is great and worth being seen in proper form.

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William Hooker & Phill Niblock - Flowers Of The Spirit (send+receive festival 2020)

send+receive Presents: Hooker-Niblock/Flowers Of The Spirit
from Winnipeg Film Group on Vimeo.

Presented as part of the 22nd edition of send + receive: a festival of sound, based out of Winnipeg, Canada, this two-part program by legendary drummer, poet, and composer William Hooker features a collaboration with filmmaker/composer Phill Niblock, followed by a brand-new solo work, “Flowers of the Spirit,” recorded specially for this occasion. As we endure a year of separation, Hooker’s vision and generosity of spirit traverses cities and continents; from New York to Winnipeg to wherever you happen to be watching.

 Free to watch through October 31st. 

- Cam Scott, blog contributor and Artistic Director of send+receive

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John McCowen - Live At ISSUE Project Room (DAAANG, 2020) ****½

By Keith Prosk

Clarinetist John McCowen catalogs the breadths and depths of the contrabass clarinet’s tone and timbre on Live At ISSUE Project Room. It is McCowen’s second release of the year thus far, after the fiery Bb skronk of Two Energy Cops At 3AM , recorded at ISSUE Project Room in NYC, at which the clarinetist is an artist-in-residence for 2020. By my count, it’s his sixth solo release in as many years, yet he’s still capable of pushing boundaries despite treading familiar territories.

Those familiar with McCowen’s work will find his characteristic drones - inhabited by a dynamic ecosystem of resonances and harmonic beatings - living and well here. The first section of this continuous 44 minute set catalogs his style in a series of increasingly technical fragments framed by silences, with a progression of something like: simple sonorous blowing > eventually reaching resonance > resonating immediately > manipulating resonant pulses > increasing multiphonics to three clearly audible lines > manipulating all three lines > increasing multiphonics to four audible lines > manipulating all four lines. And those four lines are, as is similar to much of his other multiphonic music, a low, deep drone, a high-pitched overtone, a kind of morse code, a distorted buzz. And they create a rich polyrhythm with each other, mercurial as sine wave pulses warble, fishtail, and eddy. What’s particularly amazing is that McCowen is able to pick up exactly where he left off after each silence, rather than build back to the state. This transitions to a running motor, with lines of didgeridoo and distortion, deep and bodily, punctuated by freight train overblows. Around the 26 minute mark, his playing is occasionally stepped, rather than sinuous, like a drop in dance music. The jaguar purr fades to pure fuzz, still multiphonic and dynamic, endless for his bottomless lungs, like a white noise maelstrom, still punctuated by high-volume high-distortion freight train horns - or a bellicose squawk - before returning right back to multiphonics. The effect is visceral, even violent, a fire revivifying the phoenix. The final few minutes feature restrained, ascetic play teasing out resonant, meditative waves, warm as a church organ hum.

Those familiar with McCowen’s work will recognize that these are the compositions originally recorded on Solo Contra, stretched out and backwards. Solo works provide a point of definition along the trajectory of a musician’s growth, unblurred by their work in ensemble; two solo works containing the same compositions provide an even clearer contrast between the younger and the older musician. Six solo works in six years might seem a bit much but, considering McCowen’s rapid growth since 2016 (when Solo Contra was recorded), evidenced here by audibly increased control of time, tone, timbre, technique, breath, and pulse, this recording feels like a necessary document. McCowen is at the cutting edge of clarinet sound. With compositional sensibilities that splay and clarify the instrument’s characteristics, now naked before the listener’s ears. I look forward to hearing this level of mastery in his next ensemble piece.

Live At ISSUE Project Room is a digital-only release.

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Exotic Sin - Customer’s Copy (Blank Forms Editions, 2020) ****½

By Cam Scott

Combining minimal electronics and plaintive acoustic identities, Exotic Sin is a two-person parade of sonic demonstration, bringing a sense of play and ceremony to their medley of instrumental means. The first thirty-seconds of Customer’s Copy are science-fictional, as piercing tones and whirring electronics evoke the bridge of some ambient starship. But after thirty-seconds of ear-cleaning frequencies, this electronic invocation fades into a Feldman-esque tableau of pianistic silences. Synthetic chimes alternate arpeggiated chords with thoughtful hesitancy, and these voices blend in an uncanny electronic decay.

Naima Karlsson’s delicate chords assume greater strength and surety beneath the warm reed-work of Kenichi Iwasa, whose sobbing, plastic voice spans generations of musical innovation. Karlsson, notably, is the daughter of rapper Neneh Cherry and post-punk mainstay Bruce Smith, and the granddaughter of trumpeter Don, and artist Moki, Cherry. This descendancy accounts for the show-and-tell consistency of the pieces gathered here, which encapsulate a variety of fascinating sounds, including many of Don Cherry’s homemade instruments. The twenty-two minute opener, ‘Dot 2 Dot,’ evolves from austere minimalism to a relative cacophony: at the climax, a barrage of electronic percussion strains against a spacious chordal accompaniment, before piano and horn make a pentatonic theme in unison, hearkening directly to the melodic clarity of Cherry’s own music.

The instrumental variation of ‘Charlie Vincent’ unfurls from a simple, descending figure for organ and woodwind. The funereal dirge repeats for almost fifteen minutes, as timbral variation develops the theme, based on a single minor chord. Electronic textures predominate, and the piece reaches a brooding plateau before an acoustic restatement of the theme, solemnly harmonized and with greater melodic flexibility. After the contemplative abstraction of ‘Dot 2 Dot,’ ‘Charlie Vincent’ feels notably cinematic in its pursuit of an unbroken melodic subject; and its namesake references Ridley Scott’s 1989 film ‘Black Rain,’ scored by Hans Zimmer, whose electronic palette surely informs this arrangement. ‘Canis Minor’ is a miniature coda by comparison, a suspenseful arrangement of digital chimes and discomforting tones, changing the pressure in the room before fading out on a triadic figure for kalimba—a hopeful ascent that inverts the doom-laden motif of the piece preceding.

From slapstick contrasts to contemplative moments of musical accord, Customer’s Copy is a gorgeous document of instrumental chemistry and uninhibited experimentation, with enough strangeness and variety to ensure repeat listens. More movingly, this duo demonstrates the continuation of Don Cherry’s innovation in the present, as well as the happy fact that every instrument, no matter how closely identified with a particular voice or figure, assumes a different meaning and expression in the hands of a given player.

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Luís Vicente - Maré (Cipsela, 2020) *****

By Stef Gijssels

Bear with me for a long literary intro. The album - a solo trumpet performance by Luis Vicente - is accompanied, inspired or explained by a poem by Portuguese author Fernando Pessoa (1888-1935). It is part of Pessoa's "Fausto", based on the famous tragedy by Goethe. In contrast to Goethe's work, Pessoa's work consists of monologues and dialogues. This poem comes from "Dialogues In The Night". 

The poem: 

Ah, tudo é símbolo e analogia! 
O vento que passa, a noite que esfria 
São outra cousa que a noite e o vento — 
Sombras de vida e de pensamento. 

Tudo que vemos é outra cousa. 
A maré vasta, a maré ansiosa, 
É o eco de outra maré que está 
Onde é real o mundo que há. 

Tudo que temos é esquecimento. 
A noite fria, o passar do vento 
São sombras de mãos cujos gestos são 
A ilusão mãe desta ilusão. 

In English translation, it could be the following:

Ah, everything is symbol and analogy! 

The wind that blows and the cold nights 

Are something other than night and wind - 

Shadows of Life and Thought. 

Everything we see is something else. 

The sweeping tide, the raging tide, 

Is the echo of another tide that flows 

Where the world is really real. 

All we have is forgetfulness. 

The cold night and the wind's blowing 

Are shadows of the hands whose motions 

Are the mother illusion of this illusion".

(English version: "A Little Larger Than The Entire Universe", translated by Richard Zenith (Penguin Books, 2006)

Interestingly enough, Brazilian scholar and literature professor Rodrigo Alexandre de Carvalho Xavier comes with a different translation but citing the same source. 

Ah, everything is symbol and analogy!
The wind that passes, the night that cools
Are other things yonder the night and the wind –
Shadows of life and thought.

Everything we see is another thing. 

The vast tide, the eager tide, 

It is the echo of another tide that is 

Where is real the world which is. 

All we have is oblivion. 

The cold night, the fleeting wind 

Are shadows of hands whose gestures are 

The ‘mother-illusion’ of this illusion.

In his article "Fernando Pessoa’s Fausto and the concept of Subjective Tragedy", he adds the following statement in his analysis of the poem:

We have seen that the sensation has two symmetrical elements, ‘the sensation of the outside world’ and ‘the abstract phenomenon of consciousness’. These elements define two directions or dimensions of feeling: on one hand, the object and the objective sensations, on the other, the subjective state and subjective associations linked to that object. In sum, the outer face and the inner face of sensation. Between these two poles, and from them, art must produce another type of sensation, ‘abstract sensation’ (Gil, 1987, p .43, added)

We know Luis Vicente. We enjoyed and reviewed many of his recent works in various bands and ensembles. This solo performance was recorded Live on 17th November 2017 at Convento de Santa Clara a Nova as part of Anozero - Bienal de Arte Contemporânea de Coimbra, a wonderful place to give a solo concert. 

His music offers the same sentiment that reality is flowing like sand between our fingers. His trumpet sounds oscillate between the stretched solitary sound of a fog horn over a sea at night, and the short suppressed sonic bursts of emotions struggling to get transformed into meaning. The whole ambiguity of the poem is to be found in the music. The sound is just the sound, a sign, a metaphor, an analogy, a symbol of deeper layers of reality, of a more subjective inner reality that the objective reality of the sound can only refer to. At the same time the lone trumpet resonates and echoes in the open space of the monastery, sounds bouncing back against hard walls, with the musician listening back in an unexpected dialogue. 

The title - Maré - specifically refers to these three lines: 

A maré vasta, a maré ansiosa, 
É o eco de outra maré que está 
Onde é real o mundo que há.

The sweeping tide, the raging tide, 

Is the echo of another tide that flows 

Where the world is really real.

I am not sure whether the concept of using the poem preceded the concert, or whether it was later selected because it matched with the mood, but you can feel this mood in the music. It creates the imagery, the scenery of empty space, the sea with all its vastness and turbulence and the uncertainty and sadness of sailors who do not return home. The deeper reality however is the one that makes us feel all the same when hearing the sounds: the sadness, the solitude, the melancholy, the beauty. It is abstract in its reductive simplicity. It is concrete is the physical aspect of emotions turned into sound. It is pure and authentic throughout. 

Luis Vicente is a master. His technique is as astonishing as his musical vision. His tone is one of exaltation, of refined pain and sentiment. He can go to sustained high pitches, waiting for the walls to answer back, with improvisational lyricism full of variation and carefully crafted tension. 

While the trumpet cherishes the open space and fills it completely, voluminous and with a grand and majestic presence, it is equally intimate, personal, small and human. And this may be the most powerful aspect in this musical narrative, with its shifting sonorities reflecting as many contrasting emotions "where the world is really real", where 'abstract sensations' exist.

If any reference is needed, the masterpiece of Nassim Maalouf - "Improvisations Orientales" - comes to mind, and that says a lot. 

Don't miss this album. 

Listen and download from Bandcamp. 

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Curt Sydnor - Deep End Shallow (Out of Your Head, 2020) **** ½

 

By Lee Rice Epstein

With some albums, the impression of what a group will sound like more or less matches the music itself. It’s not a bad thing, and with many groups, the comfort of familiarity contributes to an album’s success. On others, however, the anticipatory feeling of being ready to listen to an album evaporates on play. And, as it turns out, you are not ready at all. That is the experience of listening to Curt Sydnor’s Deep End Shallow. Starting with the obvious, how to classify this music? Jazz? Funk? Avant-garde? Fusion? All of the above? What are genres, at this point? Anyway, who cares when the songs are gobsmackingly good? And if the opening of this review sounds hyperbolic, I highly recommend going directly to Bandcamp without reading another word and pressing play before coming back here. Satisfied? Onward, then.

Curt Sydnor, on keyboards, is joined by Aaron Duggan on guitar, Caroline Davis on saxophone, and Greg Saunier on drums. For readers who know Saunier from his full-time gig as drummer for the band Deerhoof, this is the third, at least, in a line of interesting albums he’s appeared on recently: Saunier joined Davis for her incredible album Alula and Anthony Braxton for last year’s Quartet (New Haven) 2014. At a certain point, footnotes and annotations stack up so high they threaten to topple themselves: Herbie Hancock-esque funk melodies; abstract, Weather Report-ish solos; fuzzy prog-inspired riffs; trippy, acid jazz grooves. Sydnor might settle into a melody for half a minute, as Davis moves to the fore for a sleek solo. Saunier turns a beat inside out, while Duggan chimes effects-laden chords. For the first several listens, each song seemed to map a distinct aural space. Over time, they’ve merged into a cohesive, addictive whole. “Starewell” opens with layered keyboards and guitar from Sydnor and Duggan, with Mikey Coltun and Ofir Ganon supporting on bass and guitar, respectively. As much as the ’70s seem to inform the aesthetic, “Fall Behind” introduces an ’80s-global-infused sensibility.

How it all works together is the very specific synthesis of Sydnor, Davis, Duggan, and Saunier: all four are master musicians, and the playfulness of Sydnor’s compositions is more warm and inviting than gnomic or frenetic. Yes, in lesser hands, etc. But, in this group’s hands, shimmery ballads like “it is what it was” and “Fieldgaze Variations” showcase an emotional dexterity that highlights, rather than undercuts, the group’s technical chops. And, of course, there’s the matter of effects and post-production, mixing, and editing. For many listeners, there’s a so-called purity that needs to be maintained: band plays live in studio; band records as many takes as necessary; album is band, “no frills.” Purists beware, Deep End Shallow was not made for you. It’s made for reveling in the endless auditory joys found within. It’s made for combing over. For heavy, over-ear noise-cancelling headphones. For skyscraper speakers. For languorous, sweltering days and hazy, late nights. Play it loud. Play it long. Just play it, over and over. Fin.

Available direct from the label

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Rudresh Mahanthappa - Hero Trio (Whirlwind Records, 2020) ****

By Matthew Banash

Hey, before I forget, kudos to Whirlwind; a label that has embraced and advanced the English scene while transcending geography to deliver top-notch music. Like, for example, Rudresh Mahanthappa’s Hero Trio release.

Hero Trio is both a striking statement of Mahanthappa lays out his own vision in the loner notes - “I have always wanted to record in the powerful yet intimate trio format. It would be an incomplete venture without somehow celebrating the quintessential saxophone trio work of Sonny Rollins, Lee Konitz, and Ornette Coleman. Outside of the jazz world, I first saw both Johnny Cash and Stevie Wonder on Sesame Street as a child and have always found their work to be beautiful, humorous, pensive, and utterly joyful. They have played such a strong role in helping me to look beyond the illusory boundaries of genre towards seeing music as a magical force that binds humanity. With this album, we seek to endorse and spread that message widely.”

All of the material is presented in Mahanthappa’s characteristically original arrangements, and to approach them with the greatest degree of freedom and spontaneity he chose to record in trio format, enlisting the talents of long-time associates François Moutin on bass and Rudy Royston on drums.

“Red Cross” opens with the clarion call of a keening alto, rumbling rhythms, trading off returning to Mahanthappa’s tart alto. They play the melody three different ways but always manage to find the energy and nuance in each turn. The notes mention “Red Cross” was one of the first Charlie Parker tunes the altoist ever learned. In listening to it one can imagine the years of work put into understanding it and playing it; that only burnishes the legacy and of its author as well as the chops of this trio.

Next is a version of the Stevie Wonder tune “Overjoyed” arranged by Danilo Perez, a former duo partner of Mahanthappa. Tone is still sharp although the tempo’s foot is slightly off the gas pedal from the opener. Mahanthappa used Perez’ arrangement for its variety of meters and complexities that allows the music to breath. Mountain has a nice feature here, never losing sight of the tune but offering a few rhythmic twists.

What’s a Hero Trio without a nod to Coltrane? Mahanthappa combines Parker’s “Barbados” with Coltrane’s “26-2” in one track. And pardon the pun, a whirlwind of sound. Moutin gets a tasty bass solo early then Mahanthappa harkens back to Bird’s speed and alacrity as Royston keeps what sound to me like several times by pounding away with dexterity. The production has good separation as not to sound crowded; each voice stands out but doesn’t drown out the others. The three shift tempos to dig in the out section as if they found yet another vein of gold to mine.

'I Can’t Get Started' replicates that approach the trio have developed in live shows where the three of them create a spontaneously improvised groove for Mahanthappa to take in any direction. In a nod to Sonny Rollins and Benny Carter this ballad illustrates the tones and tempos of the trio’s considerate interplay.

‘The Windup’ is from Keith Jarret’s ‘Belonging’, one of Mahanthappa’s favorite ever albums – “A ridiculously awesome album. I also liked the challenge of recording Jarrett with a piano less group - if you can do that, then you can do anything.” And they do it well, sans piano, delivering a faithful rendition all things considered which is cool with me. Like any good homage recalls the skill and influence of the honored, this song stirred my jazz novice memories of Keith Jarrett. His vocalizing isn’t my cup of tea, but he always found a groove and this tune typifies and reminds me of that. It has a really nice 70’s ECM vibe.

June Carter Cash wrote ‘Ring of Fire’ for her husband Johnny, and the tune connects Mahanthappa with his Colorado childhood. "Like Dolly Parton, when you take a closer look at what they did compositionally you realize that it has a conversational flow, with odd length phrases and extra bars here and there, and I wanted to capture that freedom." Maybe a hint to Rollins’ Way Out West? Like the original version this cut t has that same jaunty bounce, an old time feel, and shuffle country beat that keeps it fresh and not patronizing.

Lee Konitz’ album “Motion” helped inspired the trio’s take on ‘I’ll Remember April’ but like the rest of the record it is used as a starting point and not a dead end. I found it to be something of a deviation in that for me, it inspires me to play “air sax, “air bass” and “air drums”. Yup, guess I’m a jazz-nerd.

‘Sadness’, ah the influence of Ornette...with Moffett and Izenson, the bowed bass, the blues cry of Mahanthappa’s horn, the burbling of Royston’s drums seemingly pushing the sonic boundaries of the music. Its reflective and deep, but never despondent.

Mahanthappa wanted to include some lesser known Parker tunes and ‘Dewey Square’ was a last-minute spontaneous addition in the studio. It works, sounding like a muscle-memory exercise (in a good way, showing how the music is imbedded in us) or the tight tune a band plays at the end of the set.

Music can come from and be played practically anywhere. Playing tunes from Charlie Parker to Stevie Wonder to June Carter Cash to Keith Jarrett may seem like bouncing all over the place. But this trio’s laser focus explores and illuminates the depth and breadth of the music; it packs a wallop and a groove all the while paying homage the energy, art and soul of the music and its progenitors.

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