Popping in a CD that you have never ever heard about is a fairly adventurous deal. Especially when the afore said CD purportedly belongs the free jazz genre it is almost a feeling of exhilaration – one might either end running with their hands over their ears or be swept off their feet. My experience with Zero Centigrade was rather mixed – I definitely did not run but my brows were twitched in both incredulity and perplexity.
Featuring Tonino Taiuti playing (or should I say wrenching, twisting, creaking or in short man-handling) the guitar and Vincenzo Del Luce doing similar things to a trumpet, I’m Not Like You, in my opinion, resides on the fringes of free jazz. Forty minutes of a wild ride is what is in store for all those daring ones who sit down to take a listen. For instance, I could barely make out the trumpet for the sounds that Del Luce manages to get out are, to say the least, so ‘out-there’. The guitar though is fairly on the easier-to-decrypt side but mind you, this is no melodic acoustic guitar on display here – it squeals and twitches and wails. The album does feature (rarely) some parts where the instruments are retained to provide their natural timbre (in the longest and stand-out track, In the Field) but these parts quickly disintegrate into the usual plunking and clunking escapades. What struck me as most riveting are the moods that these players manage to evoke – there are moments of tension when both the players are barely playing to periods of total atonality and improvisation – it is almost an eldritch feeling one gets while plying through the record (the opener, Swimming in Black Water, sets the stage perfectly for what is to come).
The sounds reminded me of a live DVD that I had seen of Fred Firth where the guitar was practically reintroduced in a new avatar but Taiuti stretches even these limits. At the end of it, it is quite difficult to put a finger on where this album stands for me – I, for one, at the end, did feel rewarded yet teased and taunted. I have to recommend this with caution to the general free jazz listeners but with excitement to the more adventurous of the free jazz aficionados – after all isn’t that the purpose of this whole genre?!
Here's something to get excited about, and you don't often say that when picking CDs out of a hat blindfolded! This CD came to me as a complete unknown title and group leader - to me at least - and what a great surprise!
There's a lot of fine playing on here just check out the musicians below. You have, along with an excellent rhythm section, combinations/possibilities of sax, clarinets, trumpet, voice, cello, 2 guitars - Wanja Slavin and Karsten Hoschapfel double on sax/clarinet and cello/guitar respectively. This makes for some imaginative orchestrations, combining with the improvised sections and their possibilities also. Wanja Slavin plays burning alto and soprano sax, and some lovely alto clarinet (fans of Sebastian Texier pay attention). Mederic Collignon does his usual vocal theatrics sometimes combining it in the written sections or just as a solo vehicle, and some excellent (pocket) trumpet work as always. Karsten Hochapfel hops between cello and guitar. Add to this the burning rhythm section of Graupe, Landfermann, and Lillinger and you have quite a dynamic band.
The compositions are very creative and well written, or to give a rough image ... Dave Holland and Steve Coleman meet the AACM, mixed with a European individuality. Since various members of the group compose there's a diversity of melodies and yet there's a strong cohesion in the groups playing. The excellent sound of two guitars and the very funky nature of much of this music make - even in the freer moments - for some very enjoyable listening. Crossing many barriers between (almost) rock (tk 2 - Nina Toscane), impro (tk 3 - Bossa), straight ahead swing (tk 7- Bebop), 20th century classical (tk 4 - Tango F), for just a few examples, and of course plenty of jazz!
The album is always interesting and exciting to listen to, covers many bases, and has music on it that you'll want to come back and listen to over and over again. An excellent CD for all those who love their music sophisticated, coming from all directions, and full of joy.
There is the kind of mad, passionate attraction that fuels one-night stands and Las Vegas marriages, that mad desire that sweeps you away at first glance; wonderful, perhaps, but typically short-lived, and often leaving deep disappointment in its wake. Of course, there is its equal but opposite passion: instant antipathy. Somewhere between these poles of feeling is the sort of relationship that grows over time, built by affection, respect, and a mature appreciation of the other. Such relationships tend to deepen and endure. Frank Gratkowski is the type of musician who engenders this kind of relationship with his listeners. He is unlikely to bowl you over or to leave you fuming on first hearing. His appeal is more subtle; his virtues, while manifest, are of a mature variety that take root and grow with repeated listening.
Gratkowski is a good saxophonist, a fine clarinetist, and a superb bass clarinetist; these instruments form his usual musical arsenal. But it is Gratkowski's musical intelligence, his superb compositional sense, and his ability to develop compelling narrative lines that are perhaps his greatest strengths. Many of these virtues are on display in Ardent Grass, Gratkowski's new duo recording with pianist Jacob Anderskov. The title puts me in mind of Walt Whitman's epic poem, Leaves of Grass, which is nothing if not ardent. Gratkowski has played with a number of fine pianists, including Misha Mengelberg, Fred Van Hove, Simon Nabatov, and frequent collaborator Georg Graewe; however, Gratkowski has only released a couple of duo albums with pianists (one with Graewe, one with Mengelberg). Neither of the preceding reeds-piano duo albums, I think, has been an unqualified success, and one has to say, the album at hand follows this pattern.
Anderskov has an impressive resume and is undoubtedly a fine pianist. On Ardent Grass he is all that one might ask for in an accompanist; sensitive, a good listener, and technically capable. This is perhaps part of the problem, for the album calls for something more than an accompanist. It asks for, indeed requires, a partner, someone who can push Gratkowski rather than merely support him. Say what you will about Mengelberg, he is not afraid to strike out in his own fashion and force his partner to react. I prefer waywardness to absolute correctness. For Graewe's part, he has the confidence of many avant-garde improvisational experiences to guide his playing, and can engage in the sort of push-pull that one would welcome more of here. Gratkowski's usual forum is the trio and quartet, often with piano, and I think in these larger group settings, Gratkowski's numerous talents shine more brightly. He seems to thrive on the more complex interplay among the musicians. For example, check out Gratkowski's trio album, Quicksand, with Graewe and percussionist Paul Lovens to see how vibrantly Gratkowski can play off Graewe's piano in alliance with Lovens' sparkling percussion.
Still, I would not want to give a wrong impression of the overall accomplishment of the album. There are many fine moments here. The nearly-11 minute opening track, "Narrative," is all that its title implies, and Gratkowski spins out the sort of narrative line that is both lovely and strong. The title track, the most powerful piece on the album, itself seems to oscillate between poles of powerful feeling. The remaining six tracks are of a high standard, if not quite deserving of the appellation "compelling." I listened to the album several times over and it did not pale on me. Like other Gratkowski albums, I think it will reward repeated listening; indeed, like most mature pleasures, its deeper attractions are likely to reveal themselves only in the course of time.
I remember reading (on this blog) the review of Kris Davis's Rye Eclipse, it immediately struck me as an album that was a must to hear. And so when seeing that her husband and drummer Jeff Davis was bringing out his own album I was immediately fascinated to hear the results. Jeff Davis is involved with so many interesting projects and groups such as Matthew Bourne, Michael Bates Outside Sources, Jon Irabagon's Outright, Eivind Opsvik's Overseas ...... and the list goes on! Here it seems Jeff Davis has brought all these experiences together into his compositions and group concept. We find frantic free playing, Bitches Brew styled grooves, tight ensemble work and great melodies. The opening track Bruce and Brunost Suite immediately jumps out of the speakers with all of the above qualities, Kris Davies playing a fender rhodes (through pedals) and the ever inventive Jon Goldberger on guitar provide amazing soundscapes for the various solos to evolve, eventually becoming something of a post Bitches Brew ambience of brooding menace.
Tracks such as Talk to Me develop from small but beautiful ideas (trumpet and piano) into full blown free scrummage(*) whilst Black Beard, another hard hitter, starts with a subtle drum solo moving into a tight ensemble melody over a hypnotic bass ostinato, Jon Goldberger's guitar sound and distorted solo add to the whole and saxophonist Tony Barba plays like there's no tomorrow. There are gentler moments such as Waltz , Fred Ullman and the strange closer We Sleep Outside, however much of the album bubbles with energy such as Slipper Hero with it's trumpet/sax battle section and ominous rubato melody line.
In fact there is so much inventive playing and writing on this album that it's difficult to believe at first, and yet the album manages to keep up the quality and consistency throughout whereas many such records end up being a variety of musical approaches that end up loosing their listener. This is a record for all those who enjoy their music left of centre, inside and out, swinging and grooving.
Personnel: Jeff Davis: drums, percussion; Eivind Opsvik: upright bass; Jon Goldberger: guitar; Kris Davis: piano, Fender Rhodes piano; Tony Barba: tenor and soprano saxophone, clarinet; Kirk Knuffke: trumpet.
(*) A Scrum for anyone interested is the word used in rugby for the pack of players fighting over the ball.
If you want to hear the sound of the seventies, don't miss this one : it is a great mixture of free playing on a solid rhythmic and often funky base.
I have listened to it for a couple of days and the music is absolutely hypnotic, trance-inducing and mesmerizing. Byard Lancaster leads the band on alto, accompanied by Khan Jamal on vibes, Monnette Sudler on guitar, Billy Mills on electric bass, Rashid Salim on conga, Omar Hill on percussion and Dwight James on drums.
The music is as much indebted to John Coltrane's soaring expansiveness as to the Santana band of that period, with endless percussion driven exuberance, with the horn soloing the whole time, full of lyricism, emotional outbursts and spritual power, and with the same collective enthusiasm as the Human Arts Ensemble at that time : the world and the mind were opening up, needed opening up, and the music wanted to be part of that.
Highly danceable, highly psychedelic, highly recommended. No doubt the best re-issue of 2010.
A black and white cartoon panel series with their conversation bubbles empty graces The Girl, the Bird and the Donkey, while Creatures presents a black and white pattern of birds in flight. Both of these covers represent well the sounds within, musical explorations taking flight with the musicians collectively making up stories that are never told the same way twice.
Dom Minasi's The Bird, the Girl and the Donkey begins with a swirl of tenor and alto sax, the guitar fluttering below, a little deeper in the mix, and the percussion providing a rhythmic net. Soon the bass becomes more prominent, lending a new voice to the proceedings. The interplay never lets up, group improv leading to a single voice rising above the others, only to be subsumed back into the melodic stream below. On this album New York guitarist Minasi teams up with Blaise Siwula on alto sax, Ras Moshe on tenor, Albey Balgochian on bass and Jay Rosen on the drums. This ensemble's interplay is intensely enjoyable to follow, inviting you to jump in almost at any point to be treated to fiery sax lines or Minasi's own imaginative improvisations. In fact, the session leader often takes a backseat to the dominant voices of Siwula and Moshe. The drums keep the group together, giving and taking enough energy and volume to keep each collective ideas happening.
Guitarist Joe Morris and drummer Luther Grey's Creatures, a stripped down ensemble of just guitar and drums, kicks off with the guitar spinning a melody in the lower register, the drums providing subdued accompaniment. As the stream of consciousness of the tune unfolds, the interplay between the two instruments becomes more and more complex. These songs, more like conversations, reveal an impressive rapport between the two musicians -- they are fraught with tension and tacit understanding. It is a treat to listen as the songs evolve from meandering melodies to knotty thickets of ideas.
While the instrumentation has some similarities - both have percussion that serve the conversation and a clean toned guitar unafraid to produce some heady melodies - there is something else that connects these two recent releases. Perhaps it is that though they both are entirely improvised, neither recording is overindulgent or uninviting. Also, there seems to be an underlying logical progression to the music as it expands, builds and releases at the right times. On improvisational recordings like these, where the music that is made is made but once, and structure is of the moment, I find hard to comment on the songs individually, rather I would recommend blocking out a solid chunk of time to approach each album as a singular experience.
These two albums are performed by masters of their craft. The spontaneous creations of these tunes expose a raw beauty, regardless of the number of musicians involved. Morris and Gray's duo outing cover a lot of sonic ground and Minasi's larger ensemble makes compelling collective music with each individual voice distinct and integral. Both of these albums are well worth a good deep listen.
I first made the acquaintance of the trio, Hyperactive Kid, at the Jazzwerkstatt Berlin-New York Festival, which took place over the Thanksgiving weekend, November 25-28, 2010, in New York City. The idea behind the festival, sponsored by the Jazzwerkstatt record label, was to bring the Berlin free jazz - creative improvisation scene to New York, which one might think is something like bringing coals to Newcastle. Be that as it may, I found the idea of the festival interesting enough to lure me away from turkey leftovers (okay, that was not too hard to do) and drive from Washington, DC to Brooklyn, to catch three days and four sets of the festival at the Irondale Cultural Center in Brooklyn, New York. Before I talk about Hyperactive Kid (I will get there), I'll say a few words about the festival itself.
Having never been to Berlin, a deficiency I'd like to rectify someday soon, I can't say for sure that the festival brought the totality, or even the core, of the Berlin scene to the Big Apple, but I think it's safe to say that the musical line-up undoubtedly gave a very good representation of that scene. The inclusion of such veterans of the scene as Gunter Baby Sommer, Rolf Kuhn, and Ulrich Gumpert, was certainly welcome. More importantly, though, from a cultural and musical bridge-building perspective, it was a great opportunity to hear the rising generation of musicians, German or otherwise, who have made Berlin their primary scene: trombonists Gerhard Schlossl and Christof Thewes; bassists Jan Roder, Johannes Fink, and Jonas Westergaard; saxophonists Michael Thieke and Henrik Walsdorff; drummer Michael Griener, and, the members of Hyperactive Kid, tenor saxophonist Philipp Gropper, guitarist Ronny Graupe, and drummer Christian Lillinger.
Ulli Blobel, owner and impresario of Jazzwerkstatt, is to be commended for undertaking this no doubt challenging project. (I can only imagine what it would take to get the Downtown New York scene to Berlin for a holiday weekend. Someone should try it). The musical results more than justified the effort. Permit me a few quick observations. In this day and age of instant global communications (Internet, Twitter, Skype, My Space, Facebook, etc), not to mention globe-trotting musicians, it is almost surprising that that there can still be such a thing as an identifiable "local" scene (at least aside from New York).
Such a scene, like that of Berlin's, is shaped by the cultural and historical context of the country and city in which it takes place, the heritage of musical predecessors, as well as the individual talents and inclinations of the musicians performing in close quarters on a frequent basis. Thus, for instance, this rising generation of German musicians pays homage to older forms of German folk and popular music, even if at times to slyly poke fun at them. The festival musicians also showed a greater respect for form; free jazz rave-ups were mostly held in check. Such current trends of the New York scene as micro tonality and extended techniques seem not to have gained much traction with the Berliners; rather, they carry forward the robust sound and forceful styles of such forebears as Brotzmann and Mangelsdorff. There was undeniable energy and collegiality among the Berliners, but perhaps also a touch of insularity; that, of course, is a danger of a local scene. One would like to see its members take a greater part in the international stage. Finally, some individual performances stood out. Rolf Kuhn played with admirable intelligence and craft; even though his partners, Graupe and Lillinger, seemed not totally simpatico with Kuhn's objectives. And saxophonist Walsdorff summoned memories of a young Peter Brotzmann, as he tore though several pieces with compelling passion.
From Blobel's comments, it can be inferred that Hyperactive Kid is the pride of the Jazzwerkstatt stable. It is easy to see why: three young, attractive, and dynamic performers, with a potent group identity. Ronny Graupe, on 7-string guitar, with his rock-inflected, powerful, technique-to-spare posturing had me thinking of no less a musical godfather than Jimmy Page, although he doesn't go in for those trademark Page extended solos. But it seems like he could at any moment, if he so chose. One is also grateful to find a guitarist who does not sound like a Derek Bailey clone. Drummer Christian Lillinger might be a star in the making.
One rarely gets to describe anyone in the free jazz community as "glam," but it fits Lillinger, whose stage persona, at least, evokes comparisons to James Dean or Chet Baker. It's not just looks either; his intense and inventive drumming is in the Bennink tradition. He played more than well in a variety of settings aside from Hyperactive Kid. Saxophonist Gropper is a bit more of an undefined quality to me, although there is no doubt of his ability. In the festival performance, he tended to be overshadowed by Lillinger and Graupe, often serving as a mediator between his two more stylized colleagues. The balance is remedied on the CD, Mit Dir Sind Wir 4, which a German-speaking relative translates as "we are with you."
Here, equipoise is achieved among the members of Hyperactive Kid. Gropper shines more brightly, suggesting something of a young Mats Gustafsson. Indeed, the group has some similarities to The Thing, although the instrumentation of course differs a bit. More than The Thing, this group reminds me of Big Satan, Tim Berne's trio with Marc Ducret and Tom Rainey. The album contains seven tracks; four by Graupe, two by Gropper, and the remaining track by Lillinger. Three of the tracks are more than 10 minutes each, which allows some complex thematic and musical interplay; two other tracks near the ten-minute mark. No ballads here, although there are a few ruminative moments ("Neuron" and bits of "Csobanc"). The hallmarks of this album are speed, power, and agility. The music advances in stutter steps, nervous bursts of energy that seem to pulse rather than flow. The interplay is tight and bright. These guys are listening to each other all the time and playing off each other as if it was a game of three-player basketball.
The title is more than a lark; it seems to describe the basic posture of the group and the album. Like a jumpy kid confined to his bedroom, the music is energized yet also seems to be bouncing off the walls, which is to say, that, like the other Berliners, there is in the end, a respect for form or structure. There is a feeling of energy constrained; there is hardly a relaxed moment. This is not necessarily bad; listeners tend to get caught up in this energy field. Again like their Berlin compatriots, there is little in the way of extended techniques, which would be disappointing only to those who look for such things. The priorities are on edgy playing and the conveyance of energy. While the album is not essential, it is nevertheless very enjoyable. These are three musicians to watch.
Let’s hope that those who were at the Hideout in Chicago on June 16th of last year have sufficiently recovered in the meantime, because based on this live recording, they must at least have had their eyebrows scorched off. Ballister is a trio featuring Dave Rempis (reeds), Fred Lonberg-Holm (cello, electronics) and Paal Nilssen-Love (drums). A line-up that has the potential of setting the place on fire, which is exactly what they do on ‘Bastard String’. With a title like that, what else did you expect?
You get more than enough proof of Rempis’ explosive prowess on the alto, tenor and baritone saxophone. While he’s mainly known because of his alto playing in the Vandermark 5 and his own Percussion Quartet, he’s definitely as proficient on the other two (as evidenced on his strong duo album with Frank Rosaly as well), switching from his trademark searing notes on alto to low growls and vein-popping intensity. With Nilssen-Love, one of the most ferocious percussionists around, he succeeds in laying down this forward thrust (I’d call it a groove if it weren’t so goddamn violent half the time) that feels like sheer excitement.
“Belt And Claw” starts with a snare beat and then the trio comes crashing out of the gate like a pack of wolves on the loose. It takes them about a minute to reach the boiling point and they keep this going for quite a while. Especially interesting is Lonberg-Holm’s diverse and fierce attack. He was already more prominent on the last Vandermark 5-release, but on this one he’s even more aggressive, pushing the distortion into pure, white-hot noise. The track of course has its quieter moments, with more introspective hints and jabs, but the feeling that will stick with you is that of undiluted fierceness.
The title track is, perhaps surprisingly, the least energetic, and a more open piece, with conventionally bowed cello and subtle percussion by Nilssen-Love. It was nothing more than a break though, as it’s followed by ‘Cocking Lugs’, another half hour muscle-flexing workout. The track starts with a long soundtrack-like introduction by Lonberg-Holm, soon joined by a sleekly contributing Rempis, who helps him pave the way for another sparring session featuring the drummer’s maniacal rumbling.
An awkward moment occurs when Lonberg-Holm’s creaking manipulations slowly dissolve into silence (around the 24-minute mark) after which it remains completely silent for half a minute. But then Nilssen-Love reappears, is joined by Rempis on burly baritone and the trio head for another torrid climax. ‘Bastard String’ may not be the subtlest of records, but as for excitement, stuff like this is hard to beat. At more than seventy minutes, it’s quite a challenge, and it has a few moments where the listener’s attention might get lost (this being your couch or comfortable chair and not a sweaty club), but in the end, it’ll have you panting as if you’ve just knocked down Mike Tyson yourself, and that can only be a good thing. Right?
‘Bastard String’ appeared in a limited edition of 300 copies and can be ordered directly from Dave Rempis.
Calling Mario Pavone's Double Orange Tenor arc suite t/pi t/po commodity jazz is hardly meant to be an insult (unless you're offended by he notion of such a cleve) because as far as commodity jazz concerned, this is as good as it comes. Yet clever arrangements with latin sections, well crafted solos with themes, variations and other well loved compositional elements have an ability to asphyxiate in our post-Coltrane day, despite the level of craft and dedication required in their realization. Excellence now a days brings with it an anonymity that the leaves one wanting for some imprecision or reckless asymmetry to re-connect the music with the human experience.
That is my predjudice, anyway. For everyone else, lovers of Tony Malaby's work on the many other releases where he can be heard have every reason to continue loving him on Double Orange Tenor. Juxtaposed against Malaby is Jimmy Green (also on tenor saxophone). Green, like Malaby (and Jerry Bergonzi and Chris Potter and Donny McCaslin and Bill Evans the late Michael Brecker and the late Bob Berg and all the many many others I have neglected to mention) can, at times, give one the feeling that in exchange for total control over tonal harmony (as commonly understood in the jazz commodity market) a harmonic addiction has developed. I'm not talking about screeching noises either; Double Orange Tenor is simply steeped, rooted and unashamed of its relationship to consonance and voice leading. The deeply embattled tradition is safe here.
Dave Ballou plays with invention and elasticity. His solo on West of Crash stands out both in invention and (particularly) when juxtaposed against here-comes-the-choo-choo-train onomatopoetics of the tune largely realized by the consistently solid and yet surprisingly stayed team of Peter Madsen on piano and Gerald Clever on drums.
Pavone plays perfectly well, and does so with a beautiful tone. Certainly you've all heard Pavone's work with Dixon and know that quality of bass sonority was a constant concern in Dixon's work. Pavone's playing on Dixon's Son of Sisyphus etches his name in the Book of Bass for all of time. That side of Pavone's aesthetic is given brief expression on Half Dome (for Bill Dixon) and Dome—the two non “chang changa chang” numbers on the CD. Their marked difference from the rest of the pieces makes them seem like jagged stones of onyx and jet set against a ring of colorful machine cut rhinestones. Not that there's anything wrong with rhinestones—and really, if you can listen to the entire recording in one sitting, the effect is remarkable. If that was the intent, a clearer celebration of Dixon the sui generis has yet to emerge. That said, my guess is more people are going to wonder why Pavone ruined an otherwise perfectly good (and occasionally inspiring) “jazz” recording than wonder why two pieces of interest were set amidst such familiar predictability.
A quick statistical update on this blog's reader numbers, which is still on the increase, with no less than 75% among the "Returning Visitor" category, reaching a solid 124,000 regular readers last year, with more than 500,000 page loads.
Such growth figures are the marketeer's wet dream, and let's hope it also results in the music getting wider audiences and better understanding.
Thank you all for the interest, and to the new contributors for moving this initiative furter.
