Something Old, Something New (Part 2)

Peter Brötzmann & ICI Ensemble – Beautiful Lies (Neos Jazz, 2016) ****

By Colin Green

“Beauty is not beautiful, it is tragic” (Sean Scully)

Beautiful Lies is a recording of a concert given by Peter Brötzmann and Munich’s ICI Ensemble in February 2014. Brötzmann plays tenor saxophone, clarinet and tárogató, and the Ensemble consists of David Jäger (soprano & tenor saxophones, bass clarinet), Roger Jannotta (flutes, clarinet, oboe, alto saxophone), Markus Heinze (baritone & alto saxophones, cornet), Christofer Varner (trombone), Leo Gmelch (tuba, bass trombone), Martin Wolfrum (piano), Gunnar Geisse (laptop), Georg Janker (bass, electronics) and Sunk Pöschl (drums).

As the name suggests, the International Composers and Improvisers Ensemble works with both written and improvised music. It was founded by Johanna and Christofer Varner in 1999 and consists of a pool of musicians who are drawn on for each performance. The Ensemble has collaborated with a variety of European and American musicians from different fields, including Vinko Globokar, Johannes Bauer, George Lewis, Evan Parker, Han Bennink, Joëlle Léandre and William Parker. Various sub-groups also meet on a regular basis which means the players have a keen understanding of musical relationships within the Ensemble.

Brötzmann has worked extensively in big groups: the Instant Composers Pool Orchestra, the Globe Unity Orchestra, his Chicago Tentet, and a recent Octet. I’ve written before about the various ways larger ensembles can be organised to avoid a musical pile-up, involving some form of planning. As is often the case with improvisation however, there is another way: no prior organisation at all. It’s risky, but can work with musicians sufficiently familiar with each other and sensitive to even the smallest shift. This is the route which Globe Unity and the Tentet eventually took – each sounding very different, reflecting their respective cast of characters – and according to Neos, it’s what we have in the two performances on this album.

Although nothing is worked out in advance the music doesn’t lack cohesion, it’s simply achieved in a different way, mainly through the evolution of smaller groupings and areas of focus, avoiding too many people crowding the picture – a chamber-like approach to improvisation with members of the Ensemble forming ad hoc combinations, producing a wide range of sounds and layering of ideas, textures and melodies. Much of the time the Ensemble doesn’t actually sound like a lot of people playing together and it’s only occasionally that we hear them in a recognisable tutti. Brötzmann is central (more accurately, downstage left), not as the dominant voice but as instigator.

‘Beauty Doesn’t Lie’ begins with cries and flutters on the horns, led by Brötzmann’s tárogató, whose rhythmic pattern is echoed and extrapolated across the Ensemble, the instruments providing just a few notes at a time to build an ever denser texture. Gradually, it thins leaving a jangle of electronics and Brötzmann begins one of his rubato dirges on tenor, building in tension and then dissipating into a dreamy passage with electronically enhanced piano chords and internal plucking. An agitated trombone solo is set against woodwind, and Brötzmann on clarinet, in a contrasting chorale. The trombone returns, this time accompanied by clunking on the piano, which is overwhelmed by a vast sine wave of sound passing between instruments, eventually joined by piano clusters and expanded trills from the horns, spurred on by Brötzmann’s gnarled saxophone blasts, driving the Ensemble to a cacophonous, Bacchian frenzy. A short piano interlude of quicksilver runs dissolves into chords and light tinkles underpinning Brötzmann’s ripe tenor and, as if in flashback, joined by a sleazy clarinet. Slowly, all the brass rise to end in a communal wail. Beautiful? If so, “a terrible beauty”.

In ‘Auge Des Betrachters’ (Eye of the Beholder) Brötzmann takes more of a back seat, and the Ensemble is mainly steered by pianist Martin Wolfrum, whose contributions throughout are lively and ingenious. There are great swathes of sound, often in the lower registers, producing shudders and shock waves, Brötzmann’s tenor growling like a wounded animal. Fragments of melodies materialise and are subsumed by thick layers, and from a scurrying insect kingdom of instruments we hear delicately constructed dialogues: piano, soprano saxophone and oboe, and with Brötzmann’s clarinet. The concert concludes as it began with Brötzmann on keening tárogató, rising above the crowd, rallying one last cry. It ends however, not with a bang, but a whimper.

The album is a dual layer SACD (Super Audio Compact Disc) which combines two channel CD – so it can be played on a CD player – and two channel and multi-channel DSD (Direct-Stream Digital), a form of hi-resolution audio. For the latter you’ll need an SACD player capable of handling the requisite channels (two or five) which I don’t own. I prefer to listen to DSD by way of audio files in two channels. Although Neos’ website indicates that a hi-res version of the album is available for download, at the time of writing this isn’t the case and therefore I listened to the album in two channel Red Book – good old CD. It sounded fine even without the enhanced bandwidth, but it would be a fascinating experience to hear the array of instruments in the newer format of multi-channel sound. I’d be interested if anyone’s done this, though unfortunately I imagine the overlap between surround sound aficionados and free jazz fans is relatively small.

See also: Something Old, Something New (Part 1)

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Something Old, Something New (Part 1)

Peter Brötzmann, Fred Hopkins, Rashied Ali ‎– Songlines (Trost, 2016) ****½

By Colin Green

Songlines was first released by FMP on CD in 1994, and went out of print some years ago before it was made available as a digital download by Destination Out in 2015. Now we have it in a remastered edition on CD and in the Queen of Formats, a double LP, from the Austrian label Trost which has specialised in reissuing Peter Brötzmann’s FMP catalogue on vinyl.

The album was recorded in October 1991 during the Total Music Meeting in Berlin by the trio of Brötzmann (tenor and alto saxophones, tárogató), Fred Hopkins (double bass) and Rashied Ali (drums). At the time it was thought something of an oddity in Brötzmann’s catalogue, showing a more lyrical side which had not been heard much before outside his solo recordings made in the privacy of the studio but which would come to have greater prominence in his work.

The popular image of Brötzmann is of an indefatigable figure, out front and blasting away, doing his own thing. Like all clichés, it’s not without foundation. His is a big voice, pungent and explicit, whose music gravitates to the extremes – “I like art where the blood is streaming and the flowers blooming like hell” says Brötzmann – like his compatriot Anselm Kiefer, he’s not much bothered with what goes on in the middle, possibly suggesting an absence of compromise. What might escape attention is Brötzmann’s role as part of a collective however, adjusting his profile and focus, discreetly pushing things in new directions, but as one voice amongst many. The albums under review today and tomorrow show just what an accommodating player he can be. The covers also give us examples of his sculptures – “objects” might be a better description.

Hopkins, whom Brötzmann had known for some time, had been a member of the great Air trio with Henry Threadgill and Steve McCall. He’d worked closely with David Murray in his various groups of the Eighties and had formed a sympathetic string duo with Diedre Murray (cello). Classically trained, he had a sonorous tone and an ability to coil sinuous lines around his fellow musicians. Ali, one of the great free jazz drummers, is familiar (less well known is that Brötzmann was particularly fond of playing with his brother, Muhammad Ali, also a drummer).

It has been suggested that this album finds Brötzmann in awe of the illustrious American rhythm section, and that he moderated his energy levels out of respect for them, but I’m not sure that gets the dynamics quite right. One senses both Brötzmann and Ali reining themselves in to acclimatise Hopkins, who’s very much centre-stage, physically and musically (compare Ali’s drumming here with his playing on Touchin’ on Trane (FMP, 1993) with Charles Gayle and William Parker, recorded at the same festival). Hopkins’ deeply melodic style would be out of place with his partners’ more Sturm und Drang and “multidirectional” excursions. He had a quieter intensity that invited integration and balance with his bass, requiring more modest and harmonious gestures, and a keen sense of pulse – and Brötzmann has always had a preference for drummers who can swing.  

Brötzmann is aware of his lineage and regards himself as a jazz musician – he doesn’t even like the term “free jazz” applied to him – and it was with performances like this that his roots became apparent, something not even recognised by Brötzmann in his early years, although he now says he can hear it as far back as his first album, For Adolphe Sax (BRÖ, 1967). Often, the references to older music were slightly self-conscious, with a satirical edge, as if in scare quotes. Brötzmann described his playing of ballads at the time as “a bit clumsy, awkward” yet it’s this very artlessness and lack of veneer which marks them out. I think Brötzmann recognised this and that he could move beyond irony and pastiche (which have no real place in his music) incorporating other kinds of playing without sounding derivative or compromising the expressive authenticity that has always been his central concern. I’m not suggesting Songlines was a turning point – musical development is rarely so clear cut – but it’s a significant marker.

The album opens with ‘No Messages’, introduced by Ali’s tuneful drums. It settles into a relaxed groove with a simple melody from Brötzmann, in soft pencil rather than the etched relief that gradually came to characterise his playing. As he builds on the tune moments of intensity are marked by his actually getting quieter. It is typical of the importance which Hopkins gave to musical values, and of the tone of the performances generally, that his solos are not about showing-off – displaying his prodigious technique to earn some applause – but the virtues of developing his material, bringing new features to light.

‘Old man Kangaroo’ is a fierier affair, smudges and smears over tumbling bass and drums. Hopkins uses a chordal phrase as a point of departure and return and Brötzmann’s saxophone traces a modulated arc over the duration of the piece. ‘Man in a Vacuum’ opens with Hopkins’ carefully crafted double stops and slides, lending accent to his phrases. Brötzmann’s blurred flow on fruity tenor rarely strays into the upper registers and the piece winds down with a gradual diminuendo, leaving the soft patter of Ali’s percussion.

One can hear Brötzmann and Hopkins finding their way into each other’s idioms. On ‘…It is Solved by Walking’, starting with Brötzmann, they take it in turns to drop in what sounds like a sneaky quote from Ornette’s ‘Una Muy Bonita’, delivered like a punch line. Even Ali chips in during his melodic solo and predictably, they all end on it, though there’s a feeling that Brötzmann is not entirely convinced. He and Hopkins were able to find greater accord in later performances as Hopkins became more familiar with the longer shifts which govern Brötzmann’s improvisations and adapted his supple bass lines to match. Brötzmann shapes according to his own measures, which only make sense cumulatively, and it works best where there’s a regularity of rhythm or texture, allowing his repeated phrases to float. There’s usually not much by way of direct exchange, which would break the continuity when he hits his stride. There is room for an intimate tone and circumscribed gestures when the pace slackens however, and this increased as Brötzmann became comfortable with other, more precise modes of expression, and aware of the dramatic power that simplicity and contrast can bring: his way of articulating the paradoxes which frame the human condition – conflicts and ambiguities which cannot be reconciled, but the recognition of which can make our lives more tolerable.

We hear this in ‘Songlines’, the longest piece, which opens and closes with urgent repetitions and is full of nervous energy, pausing for reflective solos for bass and drums. At its still centre lies something transcendent: a plain melody, played by Brötzmann on the tárogató, without decoration save for subtly placed vibrato and the occasional sour tone, shadowed and reinforced by a lullaby-like throbbing from Hopkins. Beauty and sadness are sometimes inseparable.

The album concludes with the short ‘Two Birds in a Feather’, an almost complete form of what subsequently became known as Brötzmann’s ‘Master of a Small House’ theme, accompanied by rolling arpeggios on bass and Ali’s stuttering brushes, and includes a lugubrious solo from Hopkins.

Brötzmann and Hopkins played as a trio with the drummer Phillip Wilson before the latter’s untimely death (but never recorded) and they got together again in 1998 for a few US dates, with Hamid Drake on drums, the last of which was released as The Atlanta Concert (Okka Disk, 2001). It ends with another elegiac tune on tenor, building to a furious crescendo. By this stage Hopkins was ill, just able to muster sufficient energy to play each night (“he played beautifully” says Brötzmann) and Atlanta was also his last performance. He disappeared a few weeks after the gig and had passed away within six months.

Three years later at the Tales out of Time (hatOLOGY, 2004) session, when Brötzmann settled on the now familiar name for the ‘Master of a Small House’ tune, he dedicated it to Hopkins.



Are there any advantages in the new (remastered) edition compared with the older release, and how does the older format of LP stand up in comparison to the new release in the newer format of CD? (I hope you’re still with me.) As a recording, Songlines is a slightly mixed bag. Taken from two performances, presumably at different venues, there’s a difference in sound quality. On some tracks it’s clear and open, on others rather muffled with Ali’s cymbals sometimes nothing more than a background haze, probably due to microphone placement. The remastering (not remixing) can’t completely remedy such matters but there’s been an increase in levels and overall gains in clarity and definition. On 180g vinyl, the usual advantages are present: Hopkins’ bass is deeper and firmer, instrumental textures are more vivid and there’s extra sparkle and air in the cymbals. There are also the disadvantages of vinyl: the title track, at just over 25 minutes, is spread over sides three and four and the running order of tracks two to four is different.

As regards the even newer format of computer files, Trost’s Bandcamp site allows you to listen to the new edition, but no digital download is available, the right to which remains with Destination Out for the older edition, which is in the same digital format – 44.1/16 (Red Book) – as the old CD. It’s all very simple really.

The choice between CD (old or new), vinyl (new) or download (old) is yours but musically, whatever the format, you won’t be disappointed.

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Shibusashirazu Orchestra - Prato, Italy 07-03-2016

By Nicola Negri

Shibusashirazu is the quintessential “live” ensemble. Founded in Tokyo in 1989 by bassist Daisuke Fuwa, the band consists of a variable number of rotating musicians, usually around twenty, plus dancers and various performers. The Orchestra’s activity is well documented on a series of CDs and DVDs, and even if the music is still very enjoyable on its own, it’s the live dimension that really amplifies the impact and originality of this project. Scenography has a very important role, with textiles, costumes, video projections, live painting and flying inflatable creatures being an integral part of their shows.

Last Sunday in Prato, in a beautiful square in front of the medieval town castle, they presented a typical performance, with all the above ingredients in full display, and maybe to those who knew them from records or videos there weren’t many surprises in the overall structure or in the compositions played – but seeing them live has proved to be a surprising, electrifying experience.

Firmly grounded in the tradition of the most original free jazz large bands (not too far in spirit from the Sun Ra Arkestra), musically they covered much ground, from blues and funk to balkan tinged numbers, from mildly saccharine j-pop ballads to straight-ahead rock anthems. The spirit was unequivocally that of free jazz though, with a chaotic, frenetic activity on stage, and the solos, especially from the woodwinds, were usually loud, furious excursions often verging on noise. The instrumental quality of the ensemble was impeccable, and Fuwa conducted it with exquisite aplomb and a taste for tight exchanges and infectious grooves, often dividing the ensemble in various instrumental combinations, giving space to the soloists yet never forgetting the full big band sound and orchestral capabilities of the group.

Music was only a part of the show though, and one of the most fascinating aspects was the role of the dancers and performers that populated the stage. Along the half-naked singer and master of ceremonies, there were three Butoh dancers painted white from head to toes, two girls in kimonos waving oversized plastic bananas in unison, another blonde dancer in a bra and skirt adorned with flowers, plus a samurai-style performer that mimicked karate moves and a young girl in a sheep costume. And then the final touch: a giant inflatable silver dragon the appeared mid-show from the back of the stage and traversed the packed square, flying over the audience heads.

Sounds crazy? It was. But all these often contrasting, apparently absurd elements fit perfectly into the show, combining with the music for a total immersion in a surreal world of sound and visuals, a rarely seen performance dimension that humorously underlined the most peculiar, omnivorous aspects of Japanese culture.

Shibusashirazu – that incidentally means something along the lines of "never be cool" – is a rare combination of artistic integrity and audience friendliness, offering a truly unique sensorial experience, a powerful, joyous celebration of creativity and spontaneous expression.

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Konstrukt & Alexander Hawkins – 10.08.15 (OTOroku, 2016) ****

By JA Besche

Konstrukt and Café Oto are back with another release, this one being a live recording from 2015 featuring pianist Alexander Hawkins.  Readers of this blog will likely be familiar with Konstrukt already, as the Turkish jammers have been consistently releasing several albums a year (mostly live) over the recent past, straddling lines of fusion, free jazz/improv, rock, and ethnic music.  They are often in collaboration with another artist or two, and this time it’s Alexander Hawkins, a relatively young jazz pianist who has been cutting his teeth in the UK improv scene with the likes of Evan Parker and Louis Moholo, while also leading his own trio.

Konstrukt typically operate as a quartet with some of them taking on multiple instruments, but the typical set up is drums, electric bass, reeds, and electric guitar.  Having a pianist like Hawkins adds a lot, then, and this recording offers a different type of sound than I am used to with Konstrukt releases.
As a group that is often hard to pin down in terms of genre, this album seems to me to be deeply rooted in the kind of ideas that Miles Davis was exploring when he originally went to “Electric Miles”, with albums like In A Silent Way, Bitches Brew, and A Tribute to Jack Johnson.  While this particular release does not have the space or minimalism of In A Silent Way, it also doesn’t get quite as straightforward as releases like On The Corner either.  In fact, it really is its own beast with its own voice, but I couldn’t help but to think of Miles own brand of electric jazz/funk/rock fusion while listening to this.

The recording has two tracks, or more specifically, two sets from the same night, each a single, 35 minute plus improvisation.  The first set is an incongruous, vaguely hypnotic combination of psychedelic grooving and jazz technique.  It sets down a disjointed and unpredictable groove, ambling along as a wall of sound.  However, it seems content to just ooze along without direction.  It is wholly unobjectionable, but also not gripping in any way.  I don’t get much of a sense of risk taking, and the exploratory nature of it is confined to a certain logic or approach that becomes formulaic.  I wouldn’t say it is bad in any way, but it didn’t keep my attention or interest, and I don’t see myself revisiting the set any time soon.

On the other hand, the second set sucked me in immediately and I was surprised that 35 minutes or so had passed when it ended, as it was that enjoyable.  It starts silent and spacey, unidentifiable electronic sounds and droning with a trickling of Hawkins keys spilling into the emptiness, which eventually turns into a full on cascade of adept soloing across the entire range of the piano, while the rest of the musicians establish a fragmented but melodic groove that sucks you into foot-tapping and head nodding places before totally flipping into more odd time signatures and barely tethered rhythms.  They still move like a juggernaut of sound, but there is more interesting interplay, less predictability, and more moments of sheer transcendence.  Often times they work toward a crescendo, with Hawkins and Korhan Futaci (reeds) trading licks among the chaos, while the high register and strident sound of the gralla cuts through the noise in an impressive flurry of notes at times.  They reach moments both dark and ecstatic, with quick changes that sometimes leave Hawkins plinking on his piano by himself, reveling in the wake of the massive wall of sound that just disappeared.  They explore a full range of interesting ideas that span the gamut of their varied styles, and by the time it gets going it is a totally different beast from any electric Miles, more aggressive, immediate, and varied.

I have gone with a rating of 4 for this one, because I have to judge the recording as a whole, but if I were given two tracks as good as the second set it could easily be a 5.  The first set may have seemed, well boring to a degree, but in context it was a decent table setter for the second, more daring set.  I highly recommend checking it out.  While this might not be totally successful throughout, it seems not to ramble along anymore, but to move purposefully toward the craziness and unpredictability of the second set, which expertly straddles the lines between the rhythm and repetition of funk/rock, the technique of jazz, the space of free improv, and the ecstasy of collective improvisation.

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Tim Daisy & Marc Riordan – Joyride (Relay, 2016) ****

By Eric McDowell

We’ve heard Tim Daisy and Marc Riordan play together before—we’ve even heard them in duet, on Daisy’s excellent October Music Vol. 1 (2014). On Joyride, the duo picks up where it left off with seven improvisations that bring together each musician’s complementary approaches to their instruments. Skilled on tuned percussion, Daisy is a musical drummer who can draw a rich array of sounds from his kit; meanwhile, Riordan’s piano playing, often dense and percussive, hints at his experience as a drummer. No surprise that this combination makes the two Chicagoans compatible improvisers, but it also leaves them flexible enough in their roles to guard against predictability.

Joyride opens with “Pay to Play,” full of fluttering brushwork from Daisy and crowded, sinewy lines from Riordan. Wasting no time in ascending to a pitch of intensity, the duo is forced to find escalation in unexpected ways. While Daisy makes the effective but inevitable transition from brushes to sticks, Riordan climbs the keyboard very gradually over the track’s five minutes, traversing the distance from the subterranean murmurs of first few seconds to the airy tinkling of the last almost without us noticing. The duo demonstrates a knack for this kind of high-energy improvisation throughout the album—for example “Pray to Play,” into which Riordan smuggles some Monk, or “Rules of the Roll (For Conlon Nancarrow),” where Daisy’s kinetic drumming proves a perfect match for Riordan’s indefatigable Taylor-esque volleys.

Elsewhere the playing is more meditative. “Stay Wakeful,” at eight minutes the longest track on the album, provides a particularly nice contrast to the rowdy opener. In the first half, Riordan earns an extended spotlight, atmospheric and searching; in the second half, he provides rhythmic accompaniment for Daisy, who gives us the opportunity to appreciate his command over the drums, which sing with gorgeous resonance when he wants them to. “Train Quill Writings,” as the title suggests, is another contemplative tune and a lovely way to bring the album to rest. Here Riordan’s sensitive playing evokes the image of ripples fading across the surface of gently disturbed water. Daisy provides rhythmic clicking, some strange buzzing, and finally more of that rich depth of sound—booming malleted toms, washy malleted cymbals. Both musicians come together beautifully just before the final silence falls.

Another reviewer has suggested that each of the duets on October Music Vol. 1 deserves its own full-length album. With Joyride, Daisy has set the bar high.

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Tobias Delius/Shuichi Chino/Tristan Honsinger, Bernbeuren, Nigglmühle, 7/2/2016

By Martin Schray

If you want free jazz concerts in Germany, away from big cities and scenes like Berlin and Cologne, there are marvelous venues in the country. I’ve previously mentioned exceptional clubs like the Manufaktur in Schorndorf and Weikersheim’s W71, but there‘s also Raum für Musik (Room for Music) in Zoglau (Bavaria) and Kulturspeicher in Leer (in the north, close to Bremen) and a number of others. The best venue however, is the Nigglmühle in Bernbeuren, set in the alpine uplands south of Munich.

The Nigglmühle, a former flour and lumber mill, is the home of Peter Ernst, who‘s been organising shows for more than 20 years there. He‘s always had good connections with the German free jazz scene, people like the late great bassist Buschi Niebergall, Wulf Teichmann (the man who translated some of the liner notes for FMP) and Alexander von Schlippenbach, which he‘s used to organise two concerts a year. Over the last 20 years almost all the great names of European free jazz have played there - Peter Brötzmann, Evan Parker, Peter Kowald, John Edwards, Johannes Bauer, Paul Lovens, and many more.

There are a number of things which make the concerts so special. First, the idyllic setting: the former mill is hard to find – it’s located at the outskirts of a village at a little creek – to get there one passes meadows and mountain scenery, and the air is wonderful. It’s a place where people go to to vacation. Secondly, the welcome and hospitable atmosphere: Peter Ernst and his family are excellent hosts. You pay for drinks but there are free schmaltz and curd cheese sandwiches and after the concerts, free soup. Finally, there’s the venue itself: the concerts take place in the former storage room attached to the farmstead. The wooden walls create a unique and attractive acoustic, and the room is stuffed with memorabilia from previous concerts and art brut exhibits. Different levels means clambering to get to your seat, but you‘re also close to the musicians.

For his first concert in 2016 Peter Ernst chose the trio of Tobias Delius (tenor saxophone, clarinet), Tristan Honsinger (cello) and Shuichi Chino (piano). Delius and Honsinger have a long time relationship in Delius’s 4tet (their album Pelikanismus was recorded at the Nigglmühle) and Chino and Honsinger  play in a piano quartet with bassist Takashi Seo and violinist Yuriko Mukoujima.Delius is a first-rate musician, able to combine smooth melody lines à la Ben Webster with dissonance and a rich timbre. In combination with Honsinger they reference large chunks of jazz history and - typical of the Dutch school of improvisation – often do so in a humorous fashion. The evening was dominated however, by Honsinger’s Dadaist word show and spontaneous comedy, around which the show was structured, particularly the second set.

Honsinger riffed on King Henry, bananas, and a boy who crawled out of a pumpernickel or holes in the wall (among other things) and Delius offered his own absurd contributions. Honsinger even used his shoe as a telephone to carry on a surreal dialogue (not generally recommended). He and Delius sang folk songs with Honsinger‘s voice an additional instrument. Nothing was overlooked as a source of sound (water in Delius‘ glass) or available prop: Shuichi Chino slowly undressed, peeling off his windbreaker and discarding his jacket until he stood in a Dutch windmill T-shirt (and his pants – this is a family venue!). Fully-clothed, Chino was the surprise of the evening, his hands flying over the keys, often in extreme registers, and exploring the interior of the upright piano. He also played the straight man, at his wits‘ end about the antics of the other two.

A thoroughly entertaining evening with beautiful music, good talk between sets and nice food to close. The next concert, in the autumn, is Jürg Wickihalder, Barry Guy and Lucas Niggli (also featuring Maya Homburger).

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And Nilssen-Love Connects All

Frode Gjerstad Trio - Steam in the Casa (PNL, 2016) ****

By Eyal Hareuveni

The trio of Norwegian free jazz and free improvisation pioneer, reeds player Frode Gjerstad, has been working steadily since 1999, touring annually and documenting its work mainly through live recordings from its many tours around the globe. Steam in the Casa is a live recording from the Casa Del Popolo club in Montreal, Canada, captured on November 2015. The trio features Nilssen-Love, a founding member of the trio, and double bass player Jon Rune Strøm, who joined the trio in 2011 and also plays in Nilssen-Love Large Unit.

Gjerstad explains that trio was indeed “pretty much steaming” in the night of the recording. Gjerstad was mad that Air Canada that almost wrecked his old Martin alto sax, making it so he could not get “a strong sound out” or play the three lowest notes. Nevertheless, Gjerstad decided to play this instrument. “That gave me an extra push, I guess: I really wanted to show to myself that the Martin is good even when it’s crippled! I love the sound in that horn!”

The trio sounds super hot and in top form despite the sax incident, exploding with irresistible energy and tight interplay where Nilssen-Love and Strøm keeps pushing Gjerstad with fast-shifting rhythmic dynamics. Gjerstad can take any rhythmic idea and expand it into a structured road map that will challenge the eager Nilssen-Love and Strøm to follow, always taking chances, spicing the dense and tight interplay with a clever sense of humor. Just listen to pieces as “Stranger in a Common Place”,  the longest “Dodging Borders” or the surprisingly quiet and peaceful “Wobbly Rails” and you will be convinced that this is one of the best working groups around, and no doubt, you will fall in love with the sound of that crippled Marin sax.

Thomas Johansson / Øyvind Storesund / Paal Nilssen-Love - Revolution Before Lunch (Tammtz Records, 2016) ****

This ad-hoc Norwegian trio was formed by trumpeter Thomas Johansson in 2015 as a part of his Master's Degree at The Norwegian Academy of Music. It features the original rhythm section of Gjerstad Trio, Nilssen-Love and double bass player Øyvind Storesund. Johansson plays in Nilssen-Love Large Unit and in other modern jazz outfits as Cortex, All Included, and Friends & Neighbors.

This trio was recorded at the Nasjonal Jazzscene Victoria club in Oslo on February 2015, and the recording is the debut one of Johansson newly-founded Tammtz label. Johansson is a charismatic musician with a strong sound of his own, assured, round and full, flowing with arresting ideas. The rhythm section of Nilssen-Love and Storesund keeps him on his toes, forcing him to adjust his ideas into the urgent, propulsive rhythm section that keeps shifting its rhythmic dynamics. Nilssen-Love and Storesund sound as a telepathic, inseparable unit, but wisely leaving enough space for Johanssen to deliver his commanding solos.

The first two pieces, the propulsive “Close As Hail” and the more moderate “Pouch Of Skin”, sound as an introduction to the 26-minutes tour-de-force of “Incomprehensible Beats”. After Johansson adapted himself to the immediate, shifting dynamics of Nilssen-Love and Storesund, these two experienced improvisers push Johansson even further, opening and varying the rhythmic envelope constantly, coloring his extended breathing techniques and some of his most lyrical playing with great imagination and detail. Johansson meets this challenge with remarkable success, claiming his status as a leader to reckon with in the rich legacy of fiery, free jazz meets free improvised trio format.   

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Pascal Niggenkemper’s Le 7ème Continent – Talking Trash (Clean Feed,2016) ****½

           

By Martin Schray

The Seventh Continent, also known as the Great Pacific garbage patch, is a huge area of about 3.4 million square kilometers (bigger than India) in the Pacific Ocean which consists of marine debris particles. The patch is characterized by exceptionally high relative concentrations of plastic, chemical sludge and other stuff which have been trapped by the two ocean currents of the North Pacific Gyre, creating an immense maelstrom.

Pascal Niggenkemper saw pictures and read articles about this phenomenon, and was fascinated. He drew parallels with his bass preparations which mainly include found objects, and was especially interested in the different consistencies and currents – he could literally hear and feel this phenomenon and wanted to transform it into music.

In order to realise his musical notions, Niggenkemper formed a sextet with himself on bass, Joachim Badenhorst and Joris Rühl on clarinets and electronics, Julián Elvira on flutes and Eve Risser and Philip Zoubek on (prepared) pianos (on track 7 Constantin Herzog’s bass replaces Julián Elvira). This makes for an exciting “different twins” concept; Niggenkemper speaks of “two identical instrumented duos or three identical duos, with the exception of the double bass, which has the sub-contrabass flute as its pendant.”

Niggenkemper uses three musical concepts for Talking Trash, providing a juxtaposition of musical ideas and sounds and employing both notated parts and improvisation. First, the confrontation of duos and trios which attempt to merge different rhythmic cycles and repetitions. Second, the transformation of individual particles (the players) into an accumulated whole (their collective parts). Finally, the notion of flowing in different directions, symbolized by different tempi. As to structure the album reminds me of Elliott Carter’s "Triple Duo," a work which also consists of three duos: two woodwind, two strings and two percussion (since the piano is a percussion instrument), each with their own repertoire of rhythms, tempos, intervals and musical ideas.

As a result of Niggenkemper’s concept, the band creates soundscapes in which it’s sometimes impossible to discern what sound is created by which instrument, the music representing individual pieces of junk mingling in the thick sludge of the whirlpool. In a piece like “Plastisphere” Niggenkemper also sets off dark noise against high pitches and single, shy prepared piano notes crash into spooky drone sounds. Melancholic clarinets flow over monotonous electronics. These parallel strands and fluid textures are reminiscent of György Ligeti’s “Atmospheres”, best known from Stanley Kubrick’s 2001 - A Space Odyssey soundtrack (of which Ligeti was actually unaware until he went to see the film).

It’s this diversity which makes Talking Trash such a fascinating album. A track like “Gyres Océaniques” is based on a repeated piano groove – a steady pulse supported by the bass clarinet – which ploughs through the piece, conjuring up the huge whirlpools. Zoubek and Risser show how they can think and play while improvising, juggling different musical notions. On the other hand, “Ideonella Sakaiensis" (a bacterium capable of degrading and assimilating plastic) is completely improvised, a piece which seems to drift apart, panting, moaning and gasping like a huge beast. In “Kinetic Islands“, the last track, improvising pianos circle around notated reed parts, before Badenhorst’s clarinet breaks out, taking the piece to an almost conciliatory end … but for those disturbing piano sounds.

Talking Trash is an exciting album from the interface of improvised jazz and contemporary classical music, Niggenkemper says he was indirectly influenced by people as different as Anthony Braxton, Karl-Heinz Stockhausen, Mauricio Kagel, Eliane Radigue or Giacinto Scelsi. It’s an album of excellent music which matures with each listen.

The album is on CD,  available from www.instantjazz.com and www.downtownmusicgallery.com.

Listen to “Kinetic Islands“:

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Tony Malaby’s Paloma Recio - Incantation Suite (Clean Feed, 2016) ****

By Derek Stone

It’s been seven long years since Tony Malaby’s debut with the Paloma Recio quartet (Ben Monder on guitar, Eivind Opsvik on bass, and Nasheet Waits on drums), and that has given us plenty of time to wonder just what the group would sound like the second time around. The first recording was a singular affair, incorporating a number of musical idioms and styles that might, at first glance, seem irreconcilable: Latin-tinged rhythms, smoky lounge-jazz, labyrinthine improvisations, and hints of smoldering ambience. Under Malaby’s expert direction, however, all of these disparate elements came together perfectly. Now, we get the Incantation Suite on Clean Feed, and a quick glance at the title and tracklist lets you know that things have changed; whereas the debut album contained ten pieces of varying length, Incantation Suite is composed of four long-form compositions, all of which are presumably expressions of the same overarching theme. How do Paloma Recio fare with this change? Well, let’s get right to it!

“Glass” takes its time to unfold, opening with a sparse, disquieting figure from Monder’s guitar and Opsvik’s bowed bass. Gradually, Waits rolls in on tenebrous (and, yes, glassy) waves of cymbals, and Malaby follows with an expressive series of notes that, rather than lift the piece out of the gloom, add an additional layer of desolation. As far as openings go, “Glass” is exquisite: it’s an exercise in world-building, establishing a mood and emotional tone that help to immerse the listener. “Artifact” is decidedly more uptempo, beginning with a bop-beholden melody that, for all its charm, still carries an air of melancholia. Monder’s clean, razor-thin guitar-lines branch throughout the piece like fractures in baked earth, but Malaby is quick to disperse those with his own hot-blooded cries. Waits is especially noteworthy, never satisfying himself with predictable rhythms; instead, he plays with an elasticity and polyrhythmic dexterity that instills the piece with irrepressible vigor and vitality.
“Hive” returns to the slow-burning atmosphere of the opener, with Opsvik again contributing with his expressive arco-playing. On soprano, Malaby shows why he is so widely celebrated in the world of creative jazz: he can produce delicate, gossamer-thin strands that float, fog-like, over the composition, or he can pour out tortured howls. He can tantalize with short stretches of melody, or he can stun with primal outbursts. For Malaby, there is no meaningful distinction to be made between the “in” and “out” worlds of jazz - he inhabits both in his own distinct way, vacillating between them with an amphibious abandon.

The final piece, “Procedure,” is also the longest. Opening with Opsvik’s hesitant, inquisitive bass, the piece quickly becomes a sure-footed behemoth (perhaps the one pictured on the album’s cover?). Waits foregoes rhythmic complexity for sheer power, pounding and pushing the piece forward with an inexorable force. Likewise, Monder’s clean, precise lines are replaced with fretwork that lacerates and shreds. Incantation Suite is illustrative of just how masterful Paloma Recio are when it comes to the building-and-releasing of tension: as “Procedure” develops, Malaby’s playing becomes steadily more frenetic and unhinged, Waits rolls across the kit with near-torrential might, and Monder sends out a repetitive, mesmerizing figure that is slowly engulfed by the flood that surrounds him. By the end of the composition, he (as well as Opsvik) have “given themselves up” to the deluge, and “Procedure” ends in an ecstatic eruption.

Incantation Suite is both a continuation of Paloma Recio’s debut and a fulfilment of its promise. The pieces have gotten longer and more daring, they’ve even become more incendiary and exciting, but they’ve abandoned none of the dusky charm of the first recording. As the title suggests, Incantation Suite is a work to be taken in whole - just like an incantation, these four compositions come together in just the right way to work magic on the listener. If you give Paloma Recio a chance, you’re sure to fall under their spell.

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Geißler, Seely, Punkt, and Scholz - awa (otherunwise, 2016) ****

By Paul Acquaro

awa is the meeting of three Leipzigers and a lone New Yorker in a freely improvised setting. Comprised of Gustav Geißler (Alto Saxophone, Leipzig), Zach Seely (Guitar, New York), Noah Punkt (Bass, Leipzig) and Philipp Scholz (Drums, Leipzig), the quartet tends to rely on a light touch, with bursts of concentrated energy that finds each musician carefully taking clues from each other. The end result is a recording that is as sensitive as it is energetic.

Clocking in at 30 minutes, the first track 'Frowin' features the group running the gamut from quiet textural playing to kinetic flights. Halfway into the track there is a passage where everything exciting about awa is summed up: light precise drum work punctuates the guitar's fragmented musical sentences, while the saxophone delivers a spritely and complex line of melodic reasoning.

Connected by the short track 'onno' the third track, 'rowena', is a 19 minute improvisation that builds from the piercing scrape of the cymbal and the forlorn blues steeped moan of the sax to an intense peak mid-track. The track is a gradual crescendo, the sax driving the first half, until a delightful extended passage where the guitar takes the lead with a rhythmic percussive exploration. Then a melodica or small accordion appears, bringing a new feel and flavor to the closing of the album.

Engaging and filled with new ideas, Geißler, Seely, Punkt, and Scholz's awa is a patient and enjoyable journey through the MBTI musical personality - sometimes introverted and sensitive, sometimes extroverted and intense.

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