Mid-Week Round Up: Feb 13

Frank Lowe  – The Loweski  (ESP-Disk,  2012) ****½

By Tom Burris

Culled from the same sessions that birthed the classic Black Beings album for ESP-Disk in 1973, The Loweski does nothing to diminish the reputation of that majestic monster.  Actually, this material was recorded on the same day and amazes on its own merits; the fact that these are outtakes is unbelievable.  And it's all one long track divided into five pieces.  Believe!

The disc opens with Lowe playing an unaccompanied exploration of the many different sounds the tenor saxophone can make – and some I think only Lowe can make - before the entire band jumps in screeching and banging its yee-haw collective approval.  Lowe's interplay with Joseph Jarman on alto & Rashid Sinan on drums spins into so many simultaneous directions it's like they're playing hot potato with fifty spuds.

Raymond Lee Cheng (aka “The Wizard”) plucks & scrapes the strings of his violin in manner that comes off a bit like Arto Lindsay having an epileptic fit.  By the time he begins to bow the violin, it has become apparent that the boat is on fire and sinking; and this musician intends to serenade the passengers and the wreck with equal aplomb, making no judgment calls. Cheng actually gets cut off at the very end of the disc, leaving the impression that there might be even more material left on the cutting room floor.

This isn't the first unheard music from these sessions to see the light of day.  ESP reissued Black Beings with 15 minutes of extra material back in 2008.  The unbelievably high quality of BB music that has been let loose on the world so far leads me to wonder if there is a third disc's worth of material still lying around.  A boxed set of Frank Lowe: The Complete Black Beings Sessions would certainly be the very finest reissue of any year.  Believe.


William Hooker Strings 3 – A Postcard From The Road  (New Atlantis, 2012) ***½

Here stands the debut recording of William Hooker's promising new trio, which consists of drum god Hooker alongside electric guitarists Edward Ricart and Dave Ross.  It's an interesting introduction: a three-part suite presented in the form of an audience recording.  The lo-fi immediacy of the presentation makes the composition seem less precious; and this befits Hooker's seriousness and unpretentious qualities in equal portions.

And then comes the Afrobeat.  Yeah, after Hooker's introductory wobbly, unhinged solo, he comes down swinging hard like Tony Allen before taking the groove “out” without ever losing the basic element of the rhythm.  The guitars walk the line between chicken-scratching and psychedelic noise.  Fantastic!  Afrobeat makes another appearance later in the disc about three minutes into “A Fable”.
Saxophonist Glen Hall makes a guest appearance on “Harmony” and “Sweep the Wind,” the latter conjuring up a less claustrophobic Borbetomagus.  Other highlights include a short energetic freakout with a great solo from Ricart (“Tantri”) and the crazy synthesized sweeps of sound swirling around Hooker's manic drumming on “Kulit”.

Hooker's new trio is served well by this document, which I am more grateful for every time I listen to it, as it captures the excitement of the room as the music unfolds.



Gerd Dudek – Day & Night (Psi Recordings, 2012) ****

Saxophonist Gerd Dudek and pianist Hans Koller hand picked the cover songs to be included on the session for this recording.  It is a stellar list of selections with some curious inclusions, such as the originally piano-less “Congeniality” by Ornette Coleman, on which Koller makes the most of the opportunity by showing how the piano doesn't necessarily have to be a harmonic anchor for the other players.

Herbie Nichols' “Step Tempest” serves as a perfect introduction to the collection, highlighting Dudek's melodic sense, his full, gorgeous tone, and his open approach to familiar material.  On Wayne Shorter's lyrical “Blues a la Carte” Dudek shows off his fine chops, as well as the fact that he knows his way around a good line.  Mingus' “Duke Ellington's Sound of Love” is gorgeous, plaintive and sweet.  The Bach piece that closes the album was arranged by Koller, who positively shines here, spaciously riding the groove, dipping his oar into the surface only when it will propel the music forward.

This is not a revolutionary disc, but the playing is rich, thoughtful, dynamic and tasteful.  I've often heard that good taste is the enemy of progress, but when the end result is music of this caliber, progress seems a bit overrated.


Aaron Dilloway & Jason Lescalleet – Grapes and Snakes  (PAN, 2012) ***½

Should music with a closer kinship to 1980s underground cassette culture than free jazz be reviewed on this site?  It's interesting; it's good; they sent us a copy; that's good enough for me.

Noise heroes Dilloway and Lescalleet banded together for this record, utilizing only analog equipment to achieve two side-long pieces that sound at times like a strange balance between Minoy and Merzbow.
A long single-note oscillated drone begins “Shattered Capsules,” before different textures and notes slowly wind their way into the swirly frequency collage.  This is cut dead after six minutes; and a rumbling sub-frequency drone arises from the silence.  It is soothing and foreboding at the same time, with higher crackling sounds filling out the edges.  The chattering electronic chipmunk at the end of the track messed with my permanent tinnitus something awful.  Well done, I suppose.

On “Burning Nest” beautiful drones and loops lazily swirl around the listener's meditative head, not unlike Nurse With Wound's “Soliloquy for Lilith.”  It's slightly busier than that landmark work, but no less impressive.  Fifteen minutes into the track, however, things sound more sinister and claustrophobic.  The meditative experience has turned bad trip – and then a cartoon rhythmic synth loop rides by and offers to take you into the sunset.  You probably shouldn't go.  But you will.

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The Kandinsky Effect – Synesthesia (Cuneiform, 2013) ****

synesthesia = “joined perception”   

syn (together)

aisthesis (perception)

By Monique Avakian

The Kandinsky Effect: now here is a band built to tumble—meaning, they will deconstruct your pre-conceptions. Thinking about them, you might be tempted to go off on an overly-intellectual tangent involving art theory, neurological studies or the finer points of rhythmic displacement. But there’s no need for that. Just stay in the sway of a clave feel and let their synesthetic sensibilities infuse you.

The Kandinsky Effect is a trio composed of Warren Walker (saxophone/effects), Gaël Petrina (acoustic and electric bass/effects) and Caleb Dolister (drums/laptop). Without a chordal instrument, and with the addition of restrained electronica (often put to the service of harmonic layering), walls dissolve and cross-boundary work ensues. Like their namesake, artist Wassily Kandinsky (1866-1944), these players move to connect the seemingly non-related.

With the album, Synesthesia, the sax takes on a very clear and direct role. Walker is not afraid of space and not afraid to embrace a legato feel, and his choices feel quite radical that way. He also creates arcs of phrasing that seem to move from tune to tune – almost as if working over the bar line of the track list (!?!).

As for Petrina, his groove will appeal to dubstep fans into subliminal bass sound exploration as well as lovers of jazz innovators such as Jaco Pastorius. Petrina has lived all over the world and carries forward a wide swath of styles and traditions with a soulful intensity all his own.

Rhythmically, the Kandinsky Effect offers a grand array that combines rave-inspired electronica, dexterous high-end heavy metal, classical pastoral work, bass-driven contemporary jazz and the Zen idea of the Beginner’s Mind (meaning open to what is not yet). I got some quotes from band members in order to illustrate some of their rhythmic concepts (which in their case also enhances understanding of melodic concepts):

“Left Over Shoes,” began as more of a rock tune for larger ensembles. Caleb Dolister remarked that the earlier version of his piece was originally written in 4/4 and “heavily relied on thick layers of distorted chords to create its personality.” For this trio situation, the updated melody evolved to “traverse the harmonic concept that was previously spread out by the chordal instruments.” Mr. Petrina adds that rhythmically in Shoes, “the idea with the moving meters (alternating between various measures of 4/4, 6/4, 7/4 and 7/8) was to accentuate the rhythmic phrasing that I felt was natural to the melody.”

Other rhythmic details include “Walking” which changes from 13 to 7 to 5. “If Only” is in 9/4 and grouped 4 + 5 “with a free section that can go anywhere it wants depending on the night” (Petrina). “Brighton” is a rock ballad with a solo section in 13/4 + 11/4. Mr. Petrina goes on to explain that generally, “When playing over the more unconventional odd meters like 13/8 or 17/8,” he would rather “internalize the groove or clave rather than actually count up to thirteen or split it up into 6/8 + 7/8 (as) this frees you from the boxed-in feel…” He also takes care to emphasize that: “We don't write those sections to be in a particular time signature to be difficult, that’s just how they come out.”

Stay open, and you’ll feel it.


“If Only” live:

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February 9: Weekend Roundup

Christine Abdelnour, Bonnie Jones, Andrea Neumann – As:Is (Olof Bright, 2012) ***½

By Dan Sorrells

The name of the game with As: Is is obfuscation; piano and sax are present, but difficult to discern (it’s true that Bonnie Jones’s electronics would be hard to disguise, but they’re obscure in their own aspect).  As the record progresses, the ladies give each other a lot of breathing room, contributing sounds one or two at a time as they cycle through ideas. Neumann’s playing is always interesting, if hard to uncover (she’s also at the helm of a mixing desk here), and Abdelnour conjures every breath-activated instrument except saxophone. It’s all pretty abstract stuff, but very much of a piece with the state of improvisation these days. The human presence is always there, but the music is sounding less and less tied to the physical actions and limitations of wielding an instrument.

Cremaster & Angharad Davies – Pluie Fine (Potlatch, 2012) ****

If there’s a response to SET still out there in the vast spaces of the universe, whizzing toward us from thousands of light-years away, I’m betting it’ll probably sound a lot like “Embrun” when it gets here. The mysterious electro-acoustics of duo Ferran Fages and Alfredo Costa Monteiro are joined by Angharad Davies’ translucent violin on Pluie Fine, which the trio crafted from shared recordings of the course of two years. Davies’ violin dissolves into the electronic din as though nothing could be more natural, cresting over low creaks and moans and pitches so high you feel like you’re hearing them with something other than ears. Challenging, otherworldly stuff.

ChipShop Music with Toshimaru Nakamura – Protocol (Mathka, 2012) ****

Two Swedes (Martin Küchen and Erik Carlsson) and two Irishmen (David Lacey and Paul Vogel) make up electro-acoustic improvising unit ChipShop Music, here joined by no-input mixing board maverick Toshimaru Nakamura. Protocol captures two 2009 concerts in Dublin, rumbling, moody performances that slowly spread out like melting wax. Nakamura’s subtle feedback is omnipresent, a hazy ether that Küchen and Vogel sail breathy lines through. It’s considered, restrained music, but no less powerful for its discipline. For my money, “The Man Upstairs” is the stronger track, as you get a sense of the huge space of the Kilternan Parish Church, where it was recorded.

The Fish – Moon Fish (Clean Feed, 2012) ***

It’s amazing how swapping out even one member in a line-up dramatically changes the results in improvised music—in this case, we have the rhythm section from the 2012 album of the year, En Corps, this time supporting saxophonist Jean Luc Guionnet. It’s a fairly long-running group that plays what you might call “straight” free jazz, and they churn out three tongue-burning, finger-scorching streaks of fire on Moon Fish. Duboc and Perraud are fascinating as always, but Guionnet is sort of the weak link here. I feel bad saying so, as he’s a talented saxophonist, but he lacks some of his usual subtlety here, shrilly barreling along in the same range of notes. I hate to discourage anyone though, as it’s a solid slab of free jazz. I recommend taking it in short, blistering doses.

Various Artists – Rusk (Fenêtre & Loyal, 2012) ***½

I’m usually not keen on the fragmented nature of “various artist” compilations, but this one grabs you from Clayton Thomas’s haunting solo bass opening all the way to the last muted piano note of Splashgirl’s “We Took Him Out to See the Sun.” In between, you’re treated to multi-tracked madness from Nate Wooley, Jon Irabagon, and Okkyung Lee, a spacey, Eastern-tinged groove from Kammerflimmer Kollektief, and a tense pairing of Svarte Greiner and Kjetil Møste, among other tracks. There’s a lot of variety on show, but it’s a cohesive listen, and a great chance to hear some top improvisers when left to their own devices in a studio.

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Mark Solborg - 4+4+1 (ILK 2012) ****½

 Reviewed by Joe

Well this is one of those discs I wished I'd heard earlier, it would definitely have been on my top CDs of 2012. Anyhow, it seems this one,like a few others we're reviewing recently, slipped through the net and got left to one side. Furthermore ILK has steadily been releasing some excellent albums over the past few years, some of which have been reviewed here and often with very positive remarks. 

I remember reviewing another record of with Mark Solborg (see below) which also impressed me. His ability to cross between improvised and composed seems one of the major strengths in his style. This extended line up also moves very gracefully between completely improvised passages into beautifully written material. His writing uses a rich mixture of brass that includes a tuba and a bass, really giving the music real punch yet also bringing a very warm and rich sound to the ensemble. The group playing is very high quality, judging dynamics, solo space, tempos and open improvised sections down to a 't'. There isn't one wasted minute on the record.

Looking at the musicians below you'll notice Chris Speed, the +1 in the ensemble. His solos when they appear are spot on as always, but it's refreshing to hear that Solborg didn't over use him, giving over plenty of space to his other musicians as well. One voice that stands out is that of Gunnar Halle, a fine trumpeter from the same lineage as Arve Henriksen or Jon Hassell. Halle gets to shine on the delicate '2620' (tk2), sounding like a voice echoing in a valley that drifts around you in the early morning air. He also unites the ensemble on the excellent 'The Whispers' (tk4), where along with Anders Banke's fine bass clarinet playing the two horns rise above the group, gradually bringing them back together like a feather landing. Solborg takes a 'modest' position in the group, adding dynamics, chords, doubling melodies (etc) as needed. But of course he leaves his mark not only with his very subtle interjections but also with the immaculate compositions.

The music is so full of details that I expect every listen will bring out new details. Furthermore they are all fairly lengthy pieces, which makes for perfect listening. Every one - five in all - has something unique, an ambience, or a theme which is developed throughout the composition by using free improvised sections, ostinatos, silence and hard hitting themes. A theme like 'Almost' (tk3) unfolds from a simple drum/tenor sax duet into ensemble passages which each time open up to more collective improvisations, yet unknowingly we are transported into a menacing theme which has somehow crept in without anyone noticing. All this simply shows how well this music has been crafted together, and was probably, from what we hear, a great concert also. However, luckily for us it's all on the record, so to say!

Very highly recommended.

A few tags could be: Human Feel, Marc Ducret (Sens de la Marche), Trygve Seim (Sangam), The Dorf.

On this record, recorded live in 2007, the line-up is made up of two quartets: Anders Banke (tenor sax/bass clarinet), Solborg (gtr), Jeppe Skovbakke (bass), Bjørn Heebøll (drums) + Gunnar Halle (tmpt), Laura Toxværd (alto sax), Torben Snekkestad (tenor:soprano saxes/clarinet), Jakob Munck (tuba/trombone) + Chris Speed (tenor/clarinet) = 4+4+1.

For all those interested you can get a listen via Deezer .... before buying!

p.s. Look out for Solborg's new record (reviewing soon) with his quintet including Herb Robertson and Evan Parker ... great stuff, I can assure you!      

Some of Ilk's releases reviewed on our blog here:

• Soren Kjaergaard / Ben Street / Andrew Cyrille - Femklang (Ilk 2011)
• Bigoni, Solborg and Brow - Hopscotch (Ilk Records 2011)
• Han Bennink Trio - Parken (ILK, 2009)
• Torben Snekkestad - Conic Folded (Ilk, 2009)
• Lotte Anker, Craig Taborn, Gerald Cleaver - Floating Islands (Ilk 2009)
• Steven Bernstein, Marcus Rojas, Kresten Osgood - Tattoos and Mushrooms (ILK Music, 2009)
• Lotte Anker, Craig Taborn, Gerald Cleaver - Live At The Loft (ILK, 2009)

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Two sides of Mats Gustafsson

Fire! Orchestra: Exit! (Rune Grammofon, 2013) *****

Mats Gustafsson: Bengt (Utech, 2012) ****
 

By Martin Schray

In 2012 I reviewed eight albums by Mats Gustafsson and gave all of them high ratings. Being skeptical of the possibility that a musician could knock out so many albums of such a great quality I resolved to be more critical in 2013. So, when I enlisted for Fire! Orchestra, I decided to set the benchmark for top ratings extraordinarily high. 

Nevertheless, I am very excited when the Rune Grammofon package arrives, knowing that Gustafsson has never been the leader of such a large ensemble before. I put the CD in my player, turn on the volume, sit down with my cup of tea ….. and immediately “Exit! Part One” sweeps all the New Year’s resolutions away like sand castles on the seashore before the relentless waves of the oncoming flood. I am staring at my speakers, mouth wide open. A simple bass riff consisting of three notes only is creeping out of my hi-fi unit, it is dark and compelling. I feel like a character in a William S. Burroughs novel. Am I on drugs? Is there something in my tea? On top of psychedelic blues guitars two female voices keep telling me: “Exit all areas / Fire stay with me”. This is not jazz – it’s SOUL! A Doors-like Hammond organ creeps in, I am obviously in the middle of a service, I cannot help rocking to and fro, I am even headbanging. But I can’t stand up, sharp reed movements nail me down. If my neighbors watch me through the curtainless windows they might call the police because they think a strange ritual is going on in my apartment. Maybe they think I am suffering from convulsions and call an ambulance. “Exit! Part Two” even sharpens the tension, the first ten minutes are based on a heavy and monotonous Kraut rock guitar riff before the whole thing finally disintegrates into free jazz.

I am not quite sure what I expected:  A “conventional” free jazz or free rock album? Whatever it was, this here is totally different. It is a manic bitches’ brew of Miles Davis in his “Get Up With It” era, Sun Ra Arkestra, hysteric Arabian laughing gas interjections, Isaac Hayes, CAN, Deep Purple, Cream and on top of all there are voices like Jeanne Lee and Grace Slick.

Fire! Orchestra consists of almost 30 musicians (3 voices, 4 guitars, 4 drums, 4 basses, 6 saxes, 3 trumpets, a tuba, a trombone, an organ, a piano and electronics), among them (in addition to the regular Fire! core line-up of Gustafsson,  Berthling and Werliin) some of the usual suspects like Magnus Broo, Per-Ake Holmlander, David Stackenas, Sten Sandell and Raymond Strid, the lyrics are written by The Ex vocalist Arnold DeBoer.

I know it is only January but I can hardly imagine so many other albums outdoing this album (at least for me). Here I stand (or rather: sit). I can do nothing else.

But Gustafsson does not always dissolve boundaries creating expanded ensembles, his other side is extreme reduction.  He has released lots of solo albums, for example his fabulous and strictly limited trilogy Mats G plays Albert A, Mats G plays Duke E and Mats G plays Gullin (among many others). One of his most interesting solo performances is Needs, on which he uses a whole bunch of electronics to alienate the sound of his instrument. Renouncing electronics and overdubbing here, Bengt is closer to the aforementioned solo trilogy because Gustafsson reveals his roots and influences once again. The album is dedicated to Bengt Nordström (1936 – 2000), who has been a mentor for Gustafsson, and although his own playing and work is different, he has adopted Nordström’s style and sound here using a classic Grafton saxophone (a plastic alto sax that was used by Charlie Parker, Ornette Coleman and Nordström himself). Especially the second part of this spontaneous improvisation displays Gustafsson’s wide range of possibilities. For the first five minutes you hear somebody breathing, it sounds like a tracking dog on the trail of a scent before the track opens up for a delicate melody, everything is almost relaxed compared to the tightly clipped fragments of the first part.  You can even find allusions to the Star Spangled Banner before guttural tones, painful shrieks and long spells of silence take the tune away to atonality again.

The album is knee-deep in jazz and on the other hand wrapped in sound explorations and extended techniques. The more you listen to it, the more you will appreciate it.


Listen to an excerpt of Fire! Orchestra here:



Exit! can be bought from the label: www.runegrammofon.com

Bengt is available as a limited white vinyl edition which includes a CD version of the album. It can be bought from instantjazz.com.



© stef

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Coat Cooke / Joe Poole & Coat Cooke / Ranier Weins

Coat Cooke / Joe Poole Conversations (Now Orchestra, 2012) **½

Coat Cooke / Rainer Weins High Wire (Now Orchestra, 2012)  ***

By Stan Zappa

“We have to watch out, because our reservoir of myths is far smaller and far more fragile than those of some other nations.  Once the supplies dry up, they dry up.  What happens then is that you start recycling myths, which turn into cliches; and before you know it, history has turned into nothing more than clip art.”

So says Douglas Copeland in his book Souvenir of Canada—an indispensable guide for those wanting some clarification on that elusive, and occasionally undetectable thing called Canadian “culture.”

Certainly the potential for “supplies drying up” (real or cultural) is a more and more a global fear, yet Canada has the added anxiety of having one's frozen corpse found in an ugly snowmobile suit once those supplies are gone--something our Jazz antecedents didn't have to worry about in New Orleans.  While Harold Bloom posited the existence of an anxiety of influence, it could also be that anxiety IS the influence and the profound steering agent in the arts.

The anxieties I hear navigated on Conversations by Coat Cooke and Joe Poole are distinctly Canadian.  The need to demonstrate, without a shadow of a doubt, a command of “composition” and an awareness of trends from that frightening, thawed landscape to the south, combined with the need to manifest that politely, fairly, judiciously, as representatives of a larger, (usually government funded) national arts expression is as Canadian as Mersyndol.  To those ends, Cooke and Poole have executed their duty as Canadians.  Conversations is a fantastic addition to the Now Orchestra's merch table, and of it Arts Canada should be proud.  If your only exposure to any form of media is that which has been approved by the CBC, Conversations, with it's moderate, managed, little bit of everything/not to tart, not to sweet approach to the saxophone/drum duo is sure to blow the cheese curds off your poutine.

Those of you who might get more than one station on your receiver, or have been other places where “This Music” is practiced, Cook and Rainer Wiens' High Wire will likely capture that much more of your attention as it is that much less “Canadian” in its proportions than Conversations.  Wiens' guitar coaxes from Cook what Poole's drumming did not without resorting to the kind of excitement that prevents the dishes from being washed or floors from being swept.

This is what I don't get about Canada.  Across the street from my house, one lone junkie steals childrens' bicycles and sells crack with impunity, depressing property values, stunting home sales, and driving our favorite life long resident of the neighborhood to abandon his home.  When presented with this, the local dispatch of the RCMP offered excuses like “He's memorized what all the police cars look like, so there's nothing we can do” and “Sometimes he puts the crack in his mouth, so there's nothing we can do” and my personal favorite “His lawyer told us to stop harassing him, so there's nothing we can do.”  Meanwhile, the RCMP have no problem tasing Robert Dziekanski to death at Vancouver airport for the crime of being Polish and looking confused.  

Canada, this is all to say I know you got it in you—so why not put it to good use?  Clearly Cooke can play the horn, just as Poole can play the drums and Wiens can play the guitar.  Their job now is to convince the CBC, Arts Canada and the rest of the parent culture they can't.  Everyone on the production side of the arts knows (if only instinctively) Bloom-via-Milton's truth “to be judicious is to be weak and to compare, exactly and fairly, is to be not elect.”  C'mon guys, drop gloves and giver already, eh?


© stef

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A lazy afternoon with Szilárd Mezei, a newspaper, and a wandering spirit.

Szilárd Mezei Szabad Quintet - Singing Elephant (Not Two Records) 2012 ***½

By Philip Coombs

With a free afternoon and a relatively clear head, I had the time and wherewithal to let my mind wander for a bit. I digressed to a solo trip I took to Hungary when I was much younger. I remember the food and the friendly locals, the opera and the great gypsy music everywhere but especially a violin trio playing on a bridge overlooking the Danube river. I went to my music collection to find something to accompany these fond memories. I soon realized that I still had two unheard Szilárd Mezei recordings. Perfect. I started with the "Singing Elephant" recording by his Szabad Quintet.

This is a very diverse recording with some straight ahead jazz moments, some folk music that Mezei's viola adds to perfectly, and a few tracks that will leave you scratching your head. 'Leopard' comes at you in a series of punctuations as if the group were counting the cat's spots. Over time they separate and soon you are wrapped up in their cat and mouse game before everything catches to itself again.
Hunor G. Szabo (drums) and Emo Hock (bass) start 'Beautiful Lilly's Sorrow' at a breakneck pace and maintain it as the backbeat and pulse for Mezei (viola), Péter Bede (tenor sax) and Adam Meggyes (trumpet, cornet) to play some beautifully tortured notes over. The subtle beauty of '1 Piper in 5 Inn' make it a superb star attraction of the show. The band are precise and controlled like they are creeping around you waiting for the perfect moment to add sound. Mezei's viola manages to keep everything organic and grounded, his sound perfectly suited to this style. Beautifully timed and executed. I needed to get out and wander for a bit.


Szilárd Mezei Vocal Ensemble - Fújj szél, Zenta, visshangozz szél (Not Two,  2012) ****

I got the urge to go out and buy a newspaper to see what was going on in the world around me without having to resort to turning on any form of electronics. I wanted to find an independent seller because somehow in my head I am supporting some form of underground selling truth to the masses. One thing is for sure, if Kinga Mezei (vocals) is selling the truth, I am buying.

He voice is a cross between Nico and Marianne Faithfull in terms of power, conviction and style. She is compelling in a storytelling but crushing kind of way like a revolutionary and/or a goddess. Unfortunately, I have no idea what she is singing about.

Everything about this ensemble has an air of a rainy back road where people gather to talk about how good it once was. That is until the track 'Rëza' where the optimism flood gates open up and pure joy radiates from her voice and the band.

Szilárd Mezei is in control of a very large group here consisting of; Kinga Mezei (vocals), Ervin Malina (bass), Kornél Pápista (tuba), Milan Aleksić (piano), Branislav Aksin (trombone), Béla Burány (baritone, soprano saxes), Péter Bede (tenor sax, clarinet), Bogdan Ranković (alto sax, bass clarinet), Szilárd Mezei (viola) and István Csík (drums).

For those of you who are not big fans of vocalists in their music, Kinga Mezei essentially bookends the tracks allowing the rest of the players take over to expand their themes in the middle which is no easy task considering this is a live recording, and an album that explores gypsy folk, art house soundtracks, and a healthy dose of exploratory jazz. Very compelling and captivating music.
I did find the newspaper seller with his enterprise set up on the steps of the train station. I have him a note, nodded my head and told him to keep the change and fought the use to step on the train to anywhere.

Both recordings can be purchased from Not Two Records or downloaded from eMusic.

© stef

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Dom Minasi Septet - The Bird, the Girl and the Donkey II (Unseen Rain, 2012) ****

By Paul Acquaro

Halfway through Dom Minasi's The Bird, the Girl and the Donkey II the theme of Yankee Doodle spills out of Minasi's guitar. You can faintly hear appreciative laughter and then after a tiny pause, the band explodes, rapidly deconstructing the theme into shreds of musical confetti. The episode ends with the sax chattering and Minasi hitting elements of the long forgotten melody. Then, it is onto the next segment.

Two years ago (yikes! time flies when you're listing to all this crazy music), I offered my unsolicited thoughts on the first The Bird, Girl and the Donkey, writing, "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..."

I'd say that this is an description that also applies well to this new session, though I may replace the word stream with maelstrom. The continuity between the releases contents are strong but the song does not remain same, how could it? This is pure improvisation where a single player's ideas may get extrapolated on by the group, pulse and texture mean as much as the melodic and rhythmic lines. Bouts of group improv give way to solos and back again. It's a living and breathing thing. Plus, this is a larger group with some new voices, ideas and possibilities.

The last album found Minasi teamed up with Blaise Siwula on alto sax, Ras Moshe on tenor, Albey Balgochian on bass and Jay Rosen on the drums. This time around the group is expanded upon with Matt Lavelle on trumpet and Remi Alvarez on tenor sax. The additional musicians give the group even more firepower and combinations of trios, duos, and so on, to work with. Minasi directs it expertly and the resulting single hour long session is a fun and deep listening experience.


© stef

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Various Artists -- Wandelweiser und so Weiter (Another Timbre, 2012) ****

By Dan Sorrells

Another Timbre often straddles an interesting divide. The label's name evokes something tangible and visceral—timbre—even while the motives for seeking out new avenues in music are sometimes driven by more intellectual, philosophical pursuits. Many of Another Timbre's releases could be touted as examples on both sides of an argument: that of music as an aesthetically-charged, emotionally resonant thing vs. music as an experimental playground, an extension of philosophical investigation, or as a manifestation of a wider-ranging message or idea. Obviously, many pieces of music entail a little bit of both, but the fact that a single album could so effectively act as a strong exemplar of either side is part of what makes Another Timbre so relevant and interesting in the 21^st century.

But maybe these distinctions don't represent as much of a divide as some might argue. Sometimes, broader contextualization is necessary before a work "opens up" to a listener; other times, the reasons or methods aren't important, because the work is beautiful and transcends the conditions that created it. Both can be true for a single piece of music, or a specific recording. It often comes down to the way that a set of circumstances can alter how music is received. It's not the music that changes, but what frames it.

How music is framed is especially relevant to the Wandelweiser composers, the subject of Another Timbre's six-disc box set, Wandelweiser und so Weiter. A loosely-defined collective of composers hailing from all over the world, they are effectively driven by their interests as "non-professional philosophy readers." [1] In the introduction to an issue of Contemporary Music Review devoted entirely to Wandelwesier, Nicholas Melia and James Saunders say that Wandelweiser is "less a thing than a collection of shifting functions, assertions, contentions, ideas, concerns and practices, [….] a cohesive dialogue about the nature of silence, duration, time and place." [2] It's all very ambitious and more than a little vague, but however caught up in larger ideas about aesthetics, semiotics, and art the seeds of their music may be, the results of their thinking about sound and silence are often strikingly beautiful and delicate. It's music that's not particularly concerned with showing off, but has a way of seeping into your field of attention until it's the only thing in focus.

Wandelweiser is not only a collective, but also a label, publishing house, and event coordinator. A large amount of music by Wandelweiser composers has been released on the Edition Wandelweiser label, which also sells hundreds of scores by affiliated composers. It's by no means the exclusive source, though, and what makes the release of Wandelweiser und so Weiter on the Another Timbre label particularly special is not the fact that it features compositions by these composers, but the attempt it makes to finally construct a bridge between Wandelweiser and the understated, "lowercase" improvisation community that has thrived over the past few decades. In fact, as Wandelweiser reveals over the course of its six CDs, pulling together with improvising musicians may be what brings the Wandelweiser world a little closer to the emotional, gut-feeling end of musical appreciation and away from some of the detached, abstract conceptualizing that underlies may of the scores themselves.

Wandelweiser has a reputation as being preoccupied with silence, forever wrestling with what follows after Cage's 4'33". But the pieces of many Wandelweiser composers have a surprising amount of activity and density. Really, much of this music congregates not around absolute silence, but the idea that there are many different "types" of silences. Few of the pieces that make up Wandelweiser un so Weiter's eight-hour running time feature much for "pure" silence—instead, they work with low volume, extended ideas, slow pace. They're not overly talkative, to borrow a characterization from trombonist and composer Radu Malfatti. These compositions wish to communicate simple, finely-distilled ideas, and they aim to communicate them thoroughly. Malfatti's own "Heikou" (which rounds out Confluences, the first disc) could almost serve as an average of Wandelweiser strategy: just the right mix of silence, orchestration, pace, color. Chiming, dissonant piano chords announce dense ensemble drones, which build for a few moments before collapsing into silence. As the pattern continues, a strange sort of tension-building ensues, in which each block of silence represents the palpable anticipation in the listener, who knows another great orchestral swell will soon return, but never in quite the same way as before.



But silence is not the only mark John Cage has left on Wandelweiser. Cage's own "Three2" for percussion (included on the second disc) is among the loudest, most attention-grabbing pieces of the collection. What's seated even more deeply than ideas about silence is the notion of indeterminacy—the idea that there's a disconnect between what's written in a score and what's produced by musicians interpreting it that can never fully be reconciled. G. Douglas Barrett suggests this gap "shift[s the] focus from the composer of a determinate musical work to the listener who witnesses the unfolding of a process." [3] Wandelweiser und so Weiter provides a particularly interesting opportunity to examine indeterminacy, in that many Wandelweiser pieces are more concerned with silence, pure sounds, and simplicity than other types of contemporary music. This can result in some amazingly "pure" listening experiences, such as the eternal, weighty quality of Jürg Frey's newly composed "Time Intent Memory," Michael Pisaro's slowly morphing "Fields Have Ears (3b)," or the gorgeous way that the birds in the background of Stefan Thut's piece for strings, "Vier, 1-12," come to feel as though they are an integral part of the music itself.  But the collection can also highlight some of the problems that flirting with the indeterminate can inject into music.

The issue of the "listener as a witness" is one that a lot of improvised music can skirt (as the very undertaking already presumes the interest of some listener who will witness the creative act in toto), but it can become problematic with composed music, especially of the sort produced in Wandelweiser circles. Barrett provides the example of one of Antoine Beuger's scores, 2010¹ (not found on the compilation), which consists solely of two fragments of text by Michel Foucault. Depending on the musicians interpreting the score, the music may be transcendent for a listener, but it could also devolve into something of a cruel inside joke. The performer may understand Beuger's intentions with a score, interpreting his text selection based on their understanding of what sort of ideas Beuger intends to grapple with (or even their own parsing of the words on the page). But to the person hearing the music (often without the benefit of seeing the "score" or even being familiar with the philosophical concerns of the composer), the music may fall flat, becoming a taxing investment of time that fails to impart in even the smallest way some of its message to the listener. This investment of time is very important, regardless of whether the central focus of modern music is this "mediumship of the listener" (to use one of David Toop's coinages). 

This is a unique and relatively recent predicament, in that listeners of composed music throughout the ages probably wouldn't expect to gain a better understanding of say, a Bach concerto by seeing the actual score, especially the vast majority of music appreciators that have no sophisticated knowledge of music theory or ability to read notated music. And naturally, there is no expectation of a score in improvised music. It is when graphical notation and indeterminate scores come into play that exposing the listener to the same information as the performer may be the crucial bridge between appreciation and frustration.

When I listen to nine full minutes of two performers making "t" sounds in Beuger's "'T' Aus 'Etwas (Lied)" on the third disc of Wandelwesier, I cannot help but ask the question: was this piece of music, these demands on the listener (and performers!) the best possible medium to explore or articulate an idea? Without access to the score, can I even glean what the idea is? I left this experience less nine minutes, but with what gained? There are listening situations in which this entire piece could have played without my even being aware. And even as I sat and listened carefully, attentively, I found myself puzzled, a witness to something I wasn't sure how to begin understanding. There's something to be said about being challenged as a listener, but in such extreme examples, who benefits? Who then becomes witness to the challenged, confused listener, and does a Russian Doll full of observers ever arrive at some profound understanding or appreciation of this art?

And yet, I'm equally at a loss when I try to articulate why the nearly 20 minutes of Jürg Frey's "Un Champ de Tendre Parsemé D'Adieux (4)," which evokes something like acorns falling on the hood of a rusty old car, sounds lived-in, familiar, worth hearing in its entirety. What begins in a random, seemingly non-musical fashion slowly transforms into an engaging soundscape, a world of sound that seems impossible to unravel but is welcome in its novelty. The fact that it's one of only two pieces where the musicians and their instruments are not disclosed detracts little from its aura. Again, there are times when this music utterly connects, and times of frustration and impatience. These feelings can oscillate for the same piece of music depending on the day, the location, what's seeping in from the background. Managing these extremes becomes the challenge of Wandelweiser und so Weiter.



Another question that arises with music of this sort is what the essential difference is between improvisation and the realization of a score that gives no actual "musical" instructions to a performer. It's something I've thought about on and off for years, and I was pleased to find a simple, articulate take on the matter in Wandelweiser's liner notes. American Wandelweiser composer Michael Pisaro frames it this way: he states that these scores provide a "set of limits," and that a musician "decides to play a piece (as opposed to improvise) for a reason: that is, that one wants to adopt a point of view that is given by someone else/something else." [4] To a listener, there may not be an aural difference between these realizations of a score and improvisation, but there is still always an evaluative process undertaken by a listener, and if the music doesn't sustain interest, it hardly matters if it was the result of the spontaneity of the performers or an earnest attempt to inhabit the thoughts and intentions of a composer.

And so even the improvisation on Wandelweiser und so Weiter fits nicely, because the Wandelweiser association itself serves as the "conceptual object," the subtly imposed set of limitations that guides the music in this direction or that. The lengthy improvisation on Eddies (the fourth disc) with Neil Davidson, Rhodri Davies, Jane Dickson, Patrick Farmer and Dimitra Lazaridou-Chatzigoga sounds very much of a part with the realizations of Sam Sfirri's pieces that feature the same musical crew. I view these similarities less as an exposure of some avant-garde sham than as a happy indicator that the meeting of these groups of musicians was inevitable, and that it seems to be proving fruitful for both sides. And it's interesting to see bassist Dominic Lash, an improviser thrust into and energized by the Wandelweiser world, contribute an inspired composition of his own in "For Five."

I'd like to return to Sam Sfirri for a moment, because his contributions to Wandelweiser und so Weiter highlight another commonality among Wandelweiser composers: the use of multi-part series, which James Saunders writes about extensively in Contemporary Music Review. Pisaro identifies two types of series used by Wandelweiser composers: processes that can be applied in multiple situations (such as different instrumental line-ups), and extended investigations whose continued "trajectory is […] created on a case-by-case basis." [5] Sfirri has three serial compositions with two or more "realizations" on Wandelweiser. These different takes on a score represent a less result-oriented approach [6] in which the "focus shifts to making as an end in itself." [7] It's perhaps here that Wandelweiser, improvisation, and indeterminacy come full circle: the idea of working in series that plumb the depths of a musical idea, the belief that something can both be and be rethought, the use of the score as a mere thread "connecting change and continuity." [8] For both improvisers and the Wandelweiser composers, the focus is always on the act of creation, not what is held up at the end.

I raise some of the earlier concerns not to denigrate the music on Wandelweiser und so Weiter, but to draw attention to the fact that, if the spotlight is on the listener when 21^st century musical philosophers are stroking their beards, the actual real-world experience of the listener should also be a consideration. Once the relationship between a composer and a score and a performer and the audience has been picked over and hashed out, whatever "process" the listener should ultimately have to "witness" should at least be worth the often scarce commodities they have to trade for it: their time and attention.

Thankfully, the majority of the music on Wandelweiser und so Weiter handsomely rewards the listener in exchange for their gifts. One wonders whether copies of the scores or additional context might help further illuminate the rest. (To be fair, I'm evaluating the collection based on a digital copy provided by the label and the information from the liner notes that's available online. The actual box set contains a 24-page booklet, which may or may not reveal more information about some of the pieces.)

But after saying all this, perhaps Michael Pisaro is right: "Essays will not make you like it better and will not ultimately defend its continued existence. The last thing I would want to do is to normalize something I continue to find strange." [9] There's much to love here, much to puzzle over, much that will be found strange and difficult and maybe off-putting. Personally, it's everything I could hope for in a release of this size and ambition, and I suspect I'll be returning to Wandelweiser und so Weiter for a long time to come.

Check out Another Timbre's website for lots more information about the pieces featured, interviews with musicians, additional sound samples, and links to purchase the set.

Notes:

[1] Michael Pisaro (2009): "Wandelweiser." http://erstwords.blogspot.co.uk/2009/09/wandelweiser.html

[2] Nicholas Melia & James Saunders (2011): "Introduction: What is Wandelweiser?", Contemporary Music Review, 30:6, p. 445, 448

[3] G. Douglas Barrett (2011): "The Silent Network—The Music of Wandelweiser," Contemporary Music Review, 30:6, p. 457

[4] Michael Pisaro (2012), "Round Table discussion" in liner notes, accessible at http://anothertimbre.com/page146.html

[5] James Saunders (2011): "Testing the Consequences—Multipart Series in the Work of the Wandelweiser Composers," Contemporary Music Review, 30:6, p. 499

[6] Manfred Werder, in Saunders, ibid, p. 498

[7] Saunders, ibid, p. 498

[8] Saunders, ibid, p. 523

[9] Pisaro, "Wandelweiser."

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Jemeel Moondoc & Connie Crothers - Two (Relative Pitch, 2012) ****

By Stan Zappa

How many among us, when we sit down to listen a piece of, listen to the entire recording from which it came, from beginning to end, without interruption? As the answer is none among us, the question of “totality” and it's role in the construction, consumption and assessment of music takes on new gravity.

When is a recording a collection of songs to be shuffled at will and when is the over all functionality of the work dependent upon sequence?

How about the cover art? Should that impact our experience with the music? How about the sound of the recording—the recording medium, the mic used, the amount of effect in post production? What about the actual sound of the instruments—do the gear queens get more stars? Then there is the sound of the stereo playing the music—something over which the artist has no control, though it is a factor that can make or break a listening experience.

Did Connie Crothers or Jameel Moondoc ask any of these questions during the manufacture of Two, or are those extra musical concerns for the listener to tease out?

There is an aural starkness, a blunt truthfulness on Two. Not a lot of sonic Vaseline rubbed on the mic to make it all sound dreamy. While that isn't a judgment and rarely something I notice what with my less than mediocre listening environment, it is something I noticed immediately with Two. Crothers' piano sounds more like the piano's I have personally known and less like Martha Argerich's Steinway or Matt Shipp's Fazioli. Again, that's not a judgment, just an undeniable aspect of the whole. The humanity revealed in Jameel Moondoc's sound by Two's high definition sonic ethos strikes me on a visceral level in a way that the recorded sound of Phil Woods on Billy Joel's Just The Way you Are does not.

Direct sonic access to these unmanaged sounds is an asset on Two. You Let Me Into Your Life is a Jazz tune, one you might hear sung on bent knee at the end of act II on (or off) Broadway. Yes, Crothers and Moondoc both impart a rich trove of musical materials and insights to You Let me into Your Life. Yes, Crothers' tart voicings and captivating harmonies combined with Moondoc's tonal range, from acrid to buttery, add depth and dimension to what would otherwise be a saccharine assault on innocent ears. Yet in the end, it is the hyper-revealing sound of the recording which ultimately imparts an element of interest to those well worn Tin Pan Alley progressions.

Which is simply to say You Let Me Into Your Life is no where near as captivating as the improvised pieces. The inclusion of that piece is a challenge to my assumptions about form with respect to the totality of Two; it must be there for an aesthetic reason, I just don't know nor can I feel what it is. The palpable feeling of phew, now that's out of the way, let's get down to business makes Two essential for those seeking an experiential understanding of what improvisation can offer that written, form bound music cannot. Not that one is better than the other, but until improvised music is seen as absolutely equal to written, “composed” music, (and by “seen” I mean funded) I'm here to say improvised music is better. Crother's and Moondoc, like so many musicians today, are far more interesting and dynamic without the yoke of familiar structures and song forms informing their choices.

I must confess this is my first exposure to Crothers' music. What is most attractive to me is the obscurity of her antecedents. With words, Crother's makes sure you know of her debt to Tristano. Sonically, there is additional debt to Cecil Taylor, Thelonious Monk and Andrew Hill. Certainly you'll hear others, though probably not any one clamouring atop the other. Whoever you hear, you will hear them assimilated by a consummate musician and wonderfully able operator of the instrument.

Moondoc intrigues for the same reason. While there is absolutely the influence and input of the great alto players of the day in his sound and approach—I know I hear some Jimmy Lyons—there is just as much skewing of the lineage through his own Moondoc's own invention. In a life devoted to “This Music,” Moondoc has given us a lasting reading of the alto saxophone's emotive power. Two is a reference point we can forever refer while, under the auspices of Art, continued reinventions of the horn lead it and us ever further into a barren wasteland of toneless exhalations and protracted silence.

Finally, in terms of totality, hearing Two within the context of the rest of the Relative Pitch recordings gives another value add to the listening experience. Kevin Reilly has thoughtfully curated a fascinating collection recordings which, taken together create a greater whole. Hearing Two juxtaposed against recordings like Golia's Take Your Time and Leandre and Greenleif's That Overt Object of Desire (or any of the Relative Pitch recordings for that matter) reminds us of the huge diversity within our relatively small and historically embattled creative ecosystem.

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