Léandre - Minton (Fou Records, 2017) *****

By Eyal Hareuveni

When it comes to free-improvisation you most likely don’t need more than the surnames of French double bass master Joëlle Léandre and British vocal master Phil Minton. The front cover of their first-ever recorded duo betrays no other information besides the surname and an incidental photo of sky.

Actually, you need nothing more. Just mentioning the surnames of these elder statespersons of free-improvisation (Léandre was crowned earlier this year as a French knight, member of the Chevalier des Arts et des Lettres) together is enough. Their names alone act as a powerful incantation, and you, the listener, already know that you had better surrender. Surrender fully to the beautiful, elusive art of creating-improvising-composing in the moment.

Léandre and Minton were captured playing live in Paris in October 2016. The inside cover quotes influential Dadaist poet, essayist and performance artist Tristan Tzara's (1896-1963) poem L’homme approximatif, chant VI. And, indeed, this live recording - as can be seen in the attached you-tube video - radiates a similar anarchist spirit, one that defies all conventions and conceptions.

The recording is divided into three, koan-like titles, the 32-minutes “Si,lence” and the shorter “is” and “blu,ish”. “Si,lence” brings together the hyperactive, trains of thoughts, associations and ideas of Léandre and Minton. Both are wandering through abstract, free-associative textures, chatting and sharing obscene secrets in undecipherable languages, losing their minds and way in colorful-psychedelic labyrinths and sudden rhythms and totally enjoying this close, busy improvisation. Léandre's associative operatic-conversational-vocalizations are answered beautifully by Minton and both sound as not only as master improvisers but also as experienced performance artists-actors who know how to win bemused audiences with their nuanced weird stories and their unique physical performances.

Minton opens the following, short “is” with suggestive bird calls, whistling and singing fragmented melodies. Léandre's surprisingly economic and disciplined playing puts some order to his ornithological stream of vocalizations, but eventually joins Minton's playful attempt to lure as many birds as possible to their stage. “bluish” proves again and again that Léandre and Minton play as inseparable twins, communicating instantly and telepathically. Both transform any idea, strange and bizarre as it may, into a colorful, ecstatic operatic act, and this one even ends with few symbolic snores.

Magnificent!

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Jari Haapalainen Trio – Fusion Nation (Moserobie, 2017) ****

By Gustav Lindqvist

Eyal Hareuveni’s great series of reviews; ‘The Swedes Are Coming’ has always made me, a Swede, very happy. In the third iteration, found here, Jari Haapalainen’s 2 first albums of ‘powerjazzfusion’ or just ‘punkjazz’ are reviewed. Both reviews and music are highly recommended.

The members of JH3 are all long in tooth with drummer Jari Haapalainen himself being a long time celebrated artist as guitarist with ‘The Bear Quartet’ and producer of ditto as well as many other big names like ‘Sahara Hotnights’, ‘Johnossi’ and ‘The (International) Noise Conspiracy’. Furthermore, we have saxophonist Per ‘Texas’ Johansson, who’s comeback album De Långa Rulltrapporna I Flemingsberg was celebrated here last year, and who can also be heard in ‘Fire! Orchestra’ and finally bassist Daniel Bingert, son of saxophonist Hector Bingert who lead the latin jazz band ‘Latin Lover Big Band’ in which Daniel was a member, and who’s grown to be one of Swedens (if not _the_) most prominent latino musicians.

Jari Haapalainen Trios third album Fusion Nation is in many aspects a different creature than the first two. The music released by JH3 has so far been music with no holds barred. The messages are delivered through short, powerful yet very effective tunes with titles that carry our thoughts to more aggressive genres, yet with an elegant and humorous touch. Punkjazz truly is a good way of describing this music. Where Mats Gustafssons ‘The Thing’ usually hits the listener to then back up and run you over again, again and again JH3 stretches arm and fist far back to then deliver a sailorman’s hammer fist where it hurts the most to be done with it and walk away. Will this third album leave me on the floor with a broken nose I wonder?

Where the first two albums ‘Fusion Machine’, and ‘Fusion Madness’ were more hard-hitting and psychotic in its presentation and overall atmosphere, ‘Fusion Nation’ paints a more introspective and lyrical picture which surprised me at first. Having first listened to the two first albums this morning, ‘Fusion Nation’ actually makes a lot of sense. Don’t get me wrong, this is not for the faint of heart and after about 11 minutes and 30 seconds, we’ve arrived to the song ‘Blod’ (Blood). JH3 takes me to madness-town for 30 seconds, then stops to allow me to breath normally again – yet ever so briefly. Then another 20 seconds of intense, full throttle music, and suddenly it’s all over. If I’m ever under serious time pressure, yet needs an injection of jazz adrenalin – this is it.

But going back to the beginning this album starts with the song ‘Fotfäste’ (Foothold) which has the beat of someone being told to walk around the block before being let into the bar. Texas plays an expressive and talking melody that blends well with the beat. The following song ‘Vegan to win’ brings us back to the party with a humorous touch to the melody yet without losing a beat. The album keeps delivering boiled down feelings dressed in compact packages of 1-3 minutes each.

JH3 keeps surprising with keeping the messages short, yet manages to deliver that they set out to deliver. In ‘En Delad Rymd’ (A Divided Space, but can also mean A Shared Space…) JH3 has Texas floating in space with Daniel playing a dark carpet of bass underneath while Haapalainen’s drums are infectious and steady - a dizzying experience with a characteristicly JH3 melody.

In ‘Soldiner Kiez’, which is also the highlight of this album, I recognize JH3's lyrical qualities from the first two albums. A solid beat which takes me to 80’s hiphop, mixed with electronic-like drum effects is laid out over a mere total of one minute and forty seven seconds during which Texas plays a simple yet very cool melody. I’d like to hear this one as an introduction after which the band could expand and crush the melodies and beats into a +10 minute version. I know that this is what JH3 did NOT want to do; they peeled off all the ‘extras’ to boil songs down to what they really enjoyed hearing, and performing. Of course, if I feel the need for longer excursions, maybe I just pick a different album by a different artist. Yet, one can still wish.

The album finishes off with a psychedelic 23 second reverb echo chamber ‘The Blanket’. I’m left feeling a bit dizzy but happy. No broken nose, no physical pain left behind, yet a strong wish to hear the three JH3 albums one after another.

In summary, JH3 has created a very cool 27 minute punkjazz album that stands very well on its own, but which in my opinion should be companioned with its predecessors. My grade’s caveat is that you pick up all three.

JH Trios third album is to be released on October 10. A taste of punkjazz from the upcoming album can be heard here:

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Tomas Fujiwara - Triple Double (Firehouse 12 Records, 2017) ****½

By Paul Acquaro

I've long been a fan of drummer Tomas Fujiwara's compositions, enjoying his music's melodic tendencies and avant-garde leanings, on top of understated grooves. Triple Double has all of that and in multiples: two drummers (Fujiwara and Gerald Cleaver), two brass (Ralph Alessi on trumpet and Taylor Ho Bynum on cornet), and two guitarists (Mary Halvorson and Brandon Seabrook), and the group delivers a stunning album of permutations and combinations of this line-up.

The opening track 'Diving for Quarters' begins with Halvorson (panned to the left) and Seabrook (panned to the right) working distinctly different approaches: Seabrook distorted and slashing, and Halvorson like a crystal spider scampering across a glass table. They come together as the horns enter, I'm assuming Alessi's rounded trumpet tone is more to the left, and Ho Bynum's boisterous and precise sound is to the right. The two drummers seem to work more in tandem than not as their straight forward beat under-girds the oozing melody. That intensity picks up. Towards the end the sextet is cooking, and the follow up, 'Blueberry Eyes', it doesn't relent. Ho Bynum delivers a sharp melody over the roiling guitars and drums. Soon the guitarists are emitting flames from their fretboards. Alessi's turn begins with a muted sound that, over the thrum of the background, has echoes of Miles.

The follow up to this is the first of two 'Hurry Homes'. The first carries the initials 'B/G', and later on in the track sequence, the second is 'M/T'. These two tracks feature guitar and drums duos, one may surmise the duo of Brandon and Gerald comes first. The beginning of their duet starts quietly and generally stays spacious and on the contemplative side throughout. A snippet of audio, which sounds like a conversation from a music/life lesson kicks off the drummers' duet on 'For Allen' (dedicated to drummer Allen Dawson). There is no - as far as I recall - trumpet/cornet or trumpet/guitar duos, which I suppose leaves new possibilities for a follow up album. After a tantalizingly journey from mysterious calm to controlled fury on 'Love and Protest', the group delivers a rather solid anthem on 'Decisive Shadows'. Alessi shines on this one, his punchy lines underscored by the interlocking ping-pongs of the guitars. Seabrook's idiosyncratic teeth-chattering solo follows, and then things really get heavy.

I had given the album a few listen before catching a pre-release show of the double trio at The Jazz Gallery in NYC. It was in watching the group, both how they were arranged in stage, into two sub units consisting of Halvorson/Alessi/Fujiwara and Seabrook/Ho Bynum/Cleaver and how they interacted and reacted in and between these two configuration, that brought the 'triple/double' concept to life. The symmetry and the evolving combinations gives Fujiwara as the composer varying textures and concepts to shape and explore. The result is an album that showcases the players as much as Fujiwara's compositional prowess, and together they are a potent combination.

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Oliwood – Euphoria (Enja, 2017) ****½

By Chris Haines

Earlier on in the year this album seemed to slip out quite unobtrusively on the Enja label, without any fuss or hype. Having heard some snippets and the expectation that it promised I soon ordered myself a copy. Now some several months and many listens later I am still as convinced as when I first heard it that this is one of the best releases I have heard this year. The trio is Oliver Steidle on drums (Der Rote Bereich, Brötzmann, Klima Kalima to name but a few), Frank Gratkowski on alto sax (having played with Achim Kaufmann, Simon Nabatov, Hamid Drake amongst others), and Kalle Kalima on guitar (Klima Kalima, Johnny La Marama, Momentum Impakto).

In the sleeve notes Steidle briefly talks of the compositional approach to the album amongst all the different projects he has been involved in over the years, but highlighting that the one thing all of these other musics have had in common is improvisation, which for him is of the utmost importance. This is clearly borne out by the music, which has clear structures within each of the tracks but also, as he suggests, balances the material generated by pre-composed concepts and that of improvisation.

The opening angular and nicely syncopated melody of ‘Octave Medley II’, reminiscent of progressive bands such as King Crimson, and Thinking Plague, acts as a regular motive within the freer passages that open up within the music, with tempo and pulse moving between strict measures and non-time, whilst the punctuations or ‘hits’ disguise and displace the underlying beat. The ‘octave medley’ tag being a theme across the first part of the album, with ‘III’ being seemingly underpinned by a rather scatty yet mechanical sounding programmed piano sequence that the group then responds to in a free and slightly chaotic way, whilst the very short ‘Octave Melody I’ is just the sequencer track. I wonder if these sequenced pieces are examples of the templates that Steidl used for composing the pieces which the group then picked-up and ran with? If not, the three pieces still act as if there is an uncovering of the layers of music, moving from a complex and full group sound (Octave Medley II) to a stripped back sequenced fragment (Octave Medley I). Moving on from these pieces ‘Epitasis’ starts with a similar angular melody played in unison between guitar and sax, before it breaks down through micro-dialogues, found amongst the smallest melodic fragments and exchanging at lightning speed before eventually opening out into an open arena of sounds in a free improv vein. The overall structure being somewhat of a reverse mirror image (going back through similar events in reverse order) with a small lighter coda added on at the end. ‘Der Diebische Elst’ starts with an African-like pattern on the guitar, in both the pitches used and the timbre, before Gratkowski’s free-blowing sax comes in bringing with it a change from something sounding not a million-miles away from a Brotherhood of Breath piece, which it also ends with, to a high-energy cartoon-esque chase. ‘Sissy Melting Snow’ opens with Kalima’s guitar sounding like a musical saw (sustained e-bow type sound), which becomes the counterpoint to the lead sax line in what is ostensibly a modern instrumental ballad. The last track ‘Fat Bear of Korea’, the less said the better about the possible political connotations of this one, which musically comes to a rocky and solid ending.

As a power trio within the free jazz world, it cannot but help remind us of Bjorkenheim’s work with the Scorch Trio and his newly invested Triad, however the focus of the work is at times very much a metric one, not in some clever poly-math way, but in a much more organic ebb and flow of time – firm and solid one moment before free and pulseless the next. Rhythm is important to this album and there is an up-beat momentum that is carried throughout the tracks. If you like your free jazz a bit ‘rocky’ then this may just be the album you’ve been waiting for this year.

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Dave Rempis - Lattice (Aerophonic, 2017) ****

By Eyal Hareuveni

After performing and recording for about twenty years, prolific Chicagoan sax player Dave Rempis felt that the time is ripe to put out his first solo recording. Rempis - known from the Ballister Trio, Rempis Percussion Quartet and his ongoing collaboration with trumpeter Nate Wooley and drummer Frank Rosaly, already performed solo in different engagements in Chicago and during past European tours but only earlier this year he decided to focus on the art of solo sax improvisation. In February and later on in April and May, 2017, he began a massive journey across the United States, performing thirty-one solo concerts in twenty-seven different cities. This demanding odyssey enabled him a unique opportunity to delve methodically, night after night, into his own strategies, techniques and language as a solo improviser.

Lattice, the product of his extensive tour and the 14th album on his own label, frames Rempis aesthetics within the great legacy of solo sax improvisations. Rempis acknowledges the seminal influence of sax greats Coleman Hawkins and Eric Dolphy and of innovative, living master as Anthony Braxton, Steve Lacy, Evan Parker, Joe McPhee, Ab Baars, and Mats Gustafsson. The recording, culled from several live performance from the latter half of the second leg of this solo journey, offer multiple perspectives for playing solo - on the alto, tenor and baritone saxes. Altogether these improvisations sketch an informal, yet complex artistic network in Rempis - and the listener - mind, a lattice.

The opening improvisation, Billy Strayhorn’s classic “A Flower Is A Lovesome Thing” anchors Rempis' love for the American jazz. Rempis' gentle, contemplative interpretation expands the strong melodic core, abstracted in a series of a ethereal vocalizations, whispering and singing the melody like a human vocalist. The following improvisation, “Loose Snus”, suggests a sheer physical approach, focused on different aspects of discipline, control and structure, spiced with sudden, incidental references to Rempis' Greek heritage, bursting out in a concise flow of multiphonics. The baritone solo, “If You Get Lost In Santa Paula”, follows Gustafsson's intense, uncompromising approach, yet, again, eventually leaps to a twisted Greek dance. “Linger Longer” offers a playful strategy, developed through melodic and rhythmic repetitions. “Linger Longer” is the most complex improvisation, a free-associative exploration of the baritone sax raw sonic spectrum within the space, that, again, plays with a twisted Greek theme. Lattice is concluded with a soulful interpretation of Dolphy’s “Serene”. Here Rempis finds new possibilities, nuances and depth in the achingly beautiful theme.

More of this solo stuff, please.

Listen to an interview with David Rempis here.

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Masahide Tokunaga - Bwoouunn: Fleeting Excitement (Hitorri, 2017) ****½

By Connor Kurtz

Very few musicians can be said to truly be doing something original and unique, especially when it comes to acoustic instrumentation, but Japanese alto saxophonist Masahide Tokunaga continues to exceed all expectations. Tokunaga performs in a language which is solely his own, and Bwoouunn: Fleeting Excitement may be his definitive solo document. Bwoouunn is Tokunaga's third solo album, preceded by 2009's Alto Saxophone (released on Taku Sugimoto's Slub Music) and 2015's Alto Saxophone 2 (also released on Hitorri). Alto Saxophone 2 was what made Tokunaga stand out as a true original, to me, although the album sadly got little attention elsewhere. Alto Saxophone 2 was comprised completely of long quiet tones which would make gradual shifts that the listener might struggle to notice. Bwoouunn refines upon the style of Alto Saxophone 2, but also introduces several new styles which all fit into Tokunaga's reductionist vision.

The first track, Seeking the Future in Vain was recording on June 26, 2016 by Samuel Dunscombe. The track starts off with quiet tones which assemble themselves to form a sort of pseudo-melody. Under many of the tones one might hear the accidental sounds of Tokunaga's blowing, which combine with the tones to make an odd sensation. Another oddity in this track is the vague sense of form. It essentially consists of a linear build, but in occasionally fading away all expectations of progression are subverted. In the climax of the piece, Tokunaga releases a brief series of shockingly loud high tones. These high tones sound awkward and accidental, although I'm aware that Tokunaga has full control. It's much subtler than the typical explosion that may grace an improv track. First of all, it's undeniably challenging – it's such a traditionally ugly sound that the listener can't help but wonder why a professional musician would want to make such a thing. Secondly, it's loud – much louder than the rest of the piece. For the rest of the piece, the listener is stuck with this massive conflicting focal point in their mind. To me, it feels like a relief to hear a sound of such an off-putting timbre, especially in the middle of a lovely improvisation. It feels like one important man raising his voice amongst a worried crowd, or a simple reminder that free improvisation continues to contain its own rules, or even just an expression of an emotion which is not readily understandable. The rest of the track contains low tones which could shake a room if they weren't so quiet.

The following two pieces, From Seventh Heaven to the Abyss in an Instant and Again in Search of Hope were both recorded on May 14, 2017 by Hiroyuki Ura. Just as Seeking the Future sounded like a maturation on Alto Saxophone 2, which was recorded just 2 years earlier, these tracks recorded 1 year later sound like a maturation on it. That linear progression has left, and been exchanged for a higher degree of cautious mystery. The music is calm, carrying a floating quality which the title may allude to. Tones emerge from thin air with gentle fades and hold their place for as long as Tokunaga deems them to be necessary. Simple repetitions emerge and are forgotten. For long sections, Tokunaga decides to narrow his palette to avoid cross-polluting styles. He meditates on simple ideas, giving them much more space than other improvisers might, but he always manages to prove that the ideas do deserve those long durations.

Tokunaga's tone-based improvisation often reminds me more of an electronic piece or a performance of a Wandelweiser score than of any other acoustic improvisation. When hearing the tones, the most obvious thought is that they would sound lovely harmonized together. But Tokunaga doesn't combine recordings or write compositions, and he prefers to perform solo. In doing this, he forces the listener to pay more attention to the individual sounds and attempt to analyze what they may say, or if they say anything at all. Tokunaga is certainly more interested in sound than in music, in a traditional sense, so it does make sense for him to take this route. Despite these avant-garde aspirations, Tokunaga, even more than on previous releases, plays with clear emotion. The emotions presented are soft and at peace, so they may seem subtle, but they still manage to feel true. When I hear this, a strong sense of pacifist zen seems to come through my speakers. The first track, which as I earlier stated was recorded nearly a year before the latter two, seems to come from a different emotional place; I'd reckon that Tokunaga's emotional state was quite different during these two performances. Seeking the Future in Vain contains an anxiety which pollutes its serenity, along with some harsh negativity which seems to be battled against. I wouldn't claim that either of these recordings are more emotionally interesting than the other, but it's certainly interesting to compare them in this regard so I'm grateful for both of their inclusions.

The album is mastered by Taku Unami, which is likely no surprise for anyone following this scene or style of music. Unami continues to be a mastering master when it comes to these quiet albums (such as Hiroyuki Ura's Scores). It sounds so clear and subtle; quiet sounds are given a perfect amount of space and the loud sounds are punishing. Unlike other artists in post-production, Unami has no fear of letting sounds be barely audible; he likely even finds this beautiful, as his own music reflects. Of course, I couldn't hear any of these pieces live so I can't compare, but in my opinion, this is perfectly recorded and produced quiet music.

Tokunaga plays in a manner that is thoroughly departed from jazz or improvisation traditions; in fact, Bwoouunn seems to take little inspiration from anything other than his own earlier albums. Tokunaga has found a beautiful and unique style, and he's also found a way to honestly express himself within that. Bwoouunn feels like a culmination of this style to me, and, assuming (and hoping) that Tokunaga does release another solo album, I think that Tokunaga's future solo music will move in a very different direction. That is to say, I strongly recommend this album to anyone curious to hear a wonderful document of one of the most talented, unique and overlooked saxophonists of this generation.

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Platform - Flux Reflux (Clean Feed, 2017) ***½

By Derek Stone

“Début” represents the creaking and scraping and hissing of something heavy lumbering into wakefulness - a long-dormant machine, perhaps. It’s an impressive display of power, and a good example of what makes Platform such a formidable group. Consisting of Xavier Charles on clarinet, Katrine Schiøtt on cello, Jan Martin Gismervik on drums, and Jonas Cambien on piano/Casio SK1, Platform have been active for several years, honing their craft and strengthening their grasp on the billowing improvisations and textural journeys that are everywhere in evidence on Flux Reflux, their first recording for Clean Feed. Coming right after the icy opener, “Flux” sees the group taking a more distinctly rhythmic approach; Cambien’s sparse notes drip down like beads of water from stalactites, and the soft rustling of Schiøtt’s cello provides a steady drone that lends the piece a trance-like quality. “Reflux” is a quivering beast, quietly restrained but constantly scratching at the loose threads that keep it bound. Gismervik never lets his drumming rise above a nervous thrum, and Charles’s clarinet whistles, whines, and warbles the whole way through. Once again, “Reflux” is characterized by its regular pulse; in more ways than one, then, the pieces here are “alive,” with each player taking on a singular role that helps keep the entire organism functioning. “Interlude” is what happens when that same organism sinks into revelry, a slowing of the pulse and a gradual displacement of thoughts - it’s a murmurous sea that you can’t help but find yourself immersed in. The centerpiece of sorts is “Ce que le vent d’ouest n’a pas vu” (“What the west wind has not seen,” a play on Debussy’s oppositely-titled composition). With Cambien’s motorized plunking acting as a kind of metronome, the other players swirl in and out of the piece - the cello with quavering bouts of vibrato, Gismervik in subdued throbs, and Charles with his ever-intense caws. Eventually, the rhythmic center gives way to an impressionistic second half that is thoroughly absorbing. On the surface, it may seem a bit static and dull, but close listening in a noiseless room will lay bare all of the tonal and textural intricacies that Platform have strung together here.

Flux Reflux is a lovely, if slight, monument to sound design and improvisation. Because of all the subtle touches that it contains, however, it’s probably best to reserve at least one or two listens for a quiet place; do that, and you’re sure to find yourself transfixed by the sounds these four musicians have made for us.

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23RedAnts - Nothing here is what it seems (Creative Sources, 2017) ****

By Daniel Böker

I have to admit that the album nothing here is what it seems was the first by 23RedAnts I came across. So I didn't really know what to expect. I decided to listen to the album a few times without taking notes or thinking about a proper first line.

So I listened to the music. To the album without reading a lot about the people involved. And that is what I recommend to do with this album. Listen to it. Listen to it a few times.

There is a howling wind. There are high squeaking sounds. Someone might knock on wood. On a wooden instrument. Maybe even a guitar. Does someone play a cello? Even with a bow?

All I hear are different sounds following each other, accompanying each other. I can't make out the source of the different squeaks and klongs and scratches and tweeds. Unfamiliar territory for my ears. But, this is what I came here for.

After listening to the album over and over again I realize some structures or recurring sounds and noises. So I become familiar with it. That changes a lot. I am no longer busy with recognizing different sounds or the question how these sounds were created. I start to follow the music. And yes it is definitely music. It is music because it is created with instruments (guitar and cello and also a computer. At least one!). But it is also music because it gives me a certain "musical" experience. The longer or the deeper I lean into the music of 23RedAnts & Pablo Orza the more I hear how the three musicians work together and create the music together. They listen to each other. It sounds as if I could hear that. They play together and create this strange and beautiful record.

The whole album has five tracks from three and a half minute to eight minutes. Each one has a slightly different sound and shape. After listening to the album quite a number of times I sensed a different prevailing mood. The first track "for nothing" is a very quiet introduction. The sounds come in one by one and take their time. It takes almost a minute to bring in a second distinguishable sound. The whole piece is a very slow and calm track. The prevailing mood is cautiousness if that makes sense to the reader who has not listened to it before.

The second track "the avian flu" is the shortest of the five. It brings in new sounds and something that could be recognized as a pattern or even a beat though it changes soon after you found it. With this track 23RedAnts and Pablo Orza (who plays the prepared electric guitar) come a little bit out of hiding. In a very relaxed mood.

Track three "unt.itled#1" is centered around a familiar sound. A plectrum (or something similar) scratching over a guitar string. A few minutes in a controlled feedback builds up and down and the piece turns into a conversation between the different sounds. It's not a fight - it is a discussion.

Track four "why do you say that_" changes the shift completely. The electronic sounds start of (created by Italian sound artist Niet F-n) with some field recording or recognizable noises. But this one has a lot more high squealing sounds. I guess it comes from the cello played by Macarena Montesinos. This one seems far more intense than the tracks before.

The last track "Manipulados" starts of with something that sounds like a synthesizer chord with an echo over it. The guitar und different electronic sounds come in. Again a string of a guitar (or a cello) is manipulated (as the title implies) and there also occurs something like a beat. This could be the fight that didn't start in "unt.itled#1".

While reading my own review I realize again how difficult it is to find words to describe the music. So I return to the beginning: Listen to it. And listen to it again. Give it a third try. It is worth the time and the effort.

Strange how it sounds after a few takes on the album I experience the album as a very relaxing hearing experience. I get lost in the sounds the tracks and discover new things over and over again. And this is what I expect from a new musical experience.

Listen to "Manipulados":

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Llop - J,Imp (el NEGOCITO Records, 2017) ***½

By Eyal Hareuveni

The Belgian-based trio Llop (wolf in Catalan, pronounced Ljiop) plays free-improvised songs. Llop's aesthetics are informed by an inclusive perspective of the jazz legacy but more often it's the incorporation of editing and processing techniques that add a dimension of danger and unpredictability to the eclecticness. The trio - sax player Erik Bogaerts, guitarist Benjamin Sauzereau, and drummer-vocalist-electronics player Jens Bouttery - toured Scandinavia after releasing its debut album, Lampke (el NEGOCITO, 2015). There, Llop was invited by the Swedish organization Arna to work in an old church in the southern village Harlösa. Denmark-based, French bass player Brice Soniano, known from the Carate Urio Orchestra and the Rawfishboys duo, who also resided at that time in this countryside village, joined then the trio for the recording of J, Imp.

The cover which depicts a half asleep eye of a little fat cat already establishes the relaxed, dreamy atmosphere of this album. The concise improvised pieces sound as organic, gentle songs and the short songs sound like ethereal soundscapes, both options enriched by subtle, repetitive samples, weird voices and electronic manipulations. Bogaerts' sax whispers quietly, Sauzereau resonating guitar adopts the country-ish tone of Bill Frisell blended with Ry Cooder economic lines and only drummer Bouttery and bass player Soniano attempt from time to time to charge the reserved, patient interplay with a sense of playful urgency.

Like Soniano’s group Carate Urio Orchestra, Llop defies any genre conventions. Bouttery’s song “Il Pleut” (it is raining) sound like a folk song an emotional sax solo that captures the chilly atmosphere of autumnal rainy season. Bogaerts’ title-song, the longest piece here, offers a hazy-lazy cinematic narrative that highlights his sympathetic interplay with Bouttery, ornamented gently with sonic manipulations. The improvised “Washandje” already sails in West-African quiet percussive waters and Sauzereau’s song “Le Sous - entendu” (the hearing) has an infectious, delicate theme, embraced in a lyrical-melancholic chamber jazz arrangement. The last improvised piece “Troupeau” sound inspired by the folk songs adaptations of Jan Garbarek, transformed now into a bit warmer and breezy scenery.

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ANEMONE - A Wing Dissolved In Light (NoBusiness, 2017) ****½

By Martin Schray

According to Cecil Taylor’s famous dictum that a composition starts with the selection of the musicians, ANEMONE are an obvious and promising match - at least if you have a closer look. The quintet consists of English saxophonist John Butcher, US trumpeter Peter Evans, veteran German drummer Paul Lovens, Australian bassist Clayton Thomas and French pianist Frédéric Blondy - players who come from five different countries (even three continents) and span several generations of improvised music.

Apart from their differences as to age and the fact that it’s hard for them to meet, it’s their interest in sound excursion and their exquisite technique what they have in common. Butcher has often experimented with the locations he played in (e.g. caves, oil tanks, mausoleums) and with multiphonics, Evans is a master of special effects (what the New York Times once called “a bonanza of texture and timbre“), Paul Lovens, who has played in a quintet with Butcher before, on the excellent News from the Shed album (with John Russell, Radu Malfatti and Phil Durant), sees percussion as collection of timbral colorations, with sound drawn from selected and unselected drums and cymbals (meaning that he uses material he’s taken with him or which he’s given on location). Finally, Clayton Thomas’ approach is obviously influenced by Barry Guy and Peter Kowald, he often puts bars, mallets and license plates between the strings, while Frédéric Blondy’s piano style is a lucky bag of sounds using every component of the instrument in an unorthodox manner.

Then you put on A Wing Dissolved In Light, their first album, which was recorded at the 2013 Tampere Jazz Happening, and you’re surprised: The piece starts with first-class old-school free jazz. John Butcher shines with controlled overtones, bird chirps and alienated sounds, Peter Evans gets lost in a whirlwind of eccentric tones and circular breathing on his piccolo trumpet, Lovens propels the two providing a consequent cymbal pulse, Frédéric Blondy supports Lovens with isolated Taylor chords, while Clayton Thomas’ hectic bowed bass adds fuel to the fire.

But above all, A Wing Dissolved In Light is a constant twist and turn, the music is permanently moving in different directions as to sound and dynamics. It slows down and explodes, especially in the quieter parts the musicians delve into sound explorations, their different approaches blend into one great collective effort. Indeed, there are wonderful moments, for example the duo passage of Evans and Thomas, who are joined by the others at an incredible speed, the almost classic piano trio part, and Evans’ and Butcher’s squeaking and gargling dialogue which prepares the ground for a tender and melancholic break. Here and there the music is reminiscent of an extended version of the Schlippenbach Trio because of Paul Lovens’ subtle control of things and John Butcher’s saxophone, which is sometimes close to Evan Parker’s style.

A Wing Dissolved In Light is a very delightful and fascinating album for fans of both European improvised music of the 1970s and those who are interested in disregarding the apparent limitations of the instruments used in this band. It’s been one of my favorites in 2017 so far.

A Wing Dissolved In Light is available on vinyl in a limited edition of 500 and as a download.

You can buy it from the label www.nobusinessrecords.com and from www.instantjazz.com.

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