The last day of this year’s festival was dedicated to Polish/Swedish
electroacoustic composer Zbigniew Karkowski, the project was called "The
Truth at all costs?“ It was a heart’s desire of Karina Mertin, Louis
Rastig’s co- organizer of the festival, to pay tribute to the late noise
legend. According to Karkowski everything is vibration. He claimed that
every form of vibration was the driving force of the universe, which is why
he described human existence in frequencies, waves, relationships and
intensities. His model consists of only one element, offering a lot of
space for noise. The project’s intention was to find that out together -
with lots of such noise, feedback and vibration.
The day started with a series of videos by Theo Burt from his ongoing
Remixes project. Videos by Bebe Rexcha, Calvin Harris feat. Rihanna,
Beyonce and others were fed automatically through a mathematical process,
collapsing the structure and time of sound and image. Echoes of the
original material were there but hardly recognizable after the processing.
The last two videos presented were Neon Jungle’s Braveheart, one in Burt’s
typical alienated version, a high-pitched, looped noise sculpture
reminiscent of Tim Hecker soundscapes on speed. The final one was a slow
version, which revealed his approach. It was like watching Christopher
Nolans' Memento. At the end of the video you could see the original one in
his vulgar, cheesy, commercial reality. By revealing the truth behind his
art Burt also answers the question how you could create a piece of
sophisticated art on the basis of a commercial product. As it turned out it
should be my favorite performance of the day.
Jessop & Co
The second act, Jessop & Co., were completely unknown to me. The duo
consists of Anupal Adhikary and Subho Sen S., both from Kolkata, India.
They work “with music and sound to explore questions of ethnicity,
regionality, shared urbanity and its existential dilemmas, crises, and
provocation“ (according to the liner notes of the festival). It was the
duo’s European premiere, in fact it’s the first time that they have left
Asia. Standing there behind their machines, the two looked like they were
working in the control room of a huge waste incinerating plant, depicting a
sonic environment full of crackles, tinkering, rattling and drones. They
shifted musical patterns very slowly, piling up different layers of sounds
just to come back to the original crackles, which they carved out again and
again. This electronic debris was the glue that hold everything together. A
very interesting set, the only thing that didn’t fit was the heat (which
was as brutal as on the first day). The music would have worked much
better, if it had been played on a frosty winter day.
Massimo Pupillo (bass, electronics), Stefano Pilia (guitar, electronics) and video artist Lillevan
When Massimo Pupillo (bass, electronics), Stefano Pilia (guitar,
electronics) and video artist Lillevan hit the stage, everyone expected an
apocalyptic noise orgy. Particularly Pupillo is notorious for his violent
approach in his work with Zu, Thurston Moore, Mats Gustafsson, Caspar
Brötzmann, and Stephen O' Malley (to name only a few). However, the three
were the surprise of the day: Their music was very harmonic and accessible,
it was reminiscent of ambient easy listening techno, as if Fennesz was
jamming with Ryiuchi Sakamoto. Twice one might think that the set could
switch to a darker, more brutal and harsher atmosphere, but these were only
brief moments. The most emotional passage was a vocal part which echoed
Dead Can Dance, it was ten minutes of sheer beauty. What was more,
Lillevan’s video fit excellently to the music, he played with colors very
gently and complemented the music perfectly. Who says that noise has to be
dissonant?
Klein
Next up was Klein, an artist I was really looking forward to. The South
London electronic musician has just released an EP called cc, on which she
creates music like the drum’n’bass background scores/melodies but without
the typical drum’n’bass beats. Her music is complex and exuberant with
conflicting emotions. It’s a fascinating work that explores the emotional
depths of life, death, and growing up. Unfortunately, her performance on
the festival was rather disappointing. The first part, where Klein was
supported by two musicians playing the flute and the violin, was able to
tie in with her album, referring to similar musical and thematical aspects,
but then she lost focus. The video sequences were repeated constantly, her
vocals were poor and her dance performance was embarrassing, quoting
Madonna’s vogueing period of the early nineties. Especially compared to the
shows before it seemed really uninspired.
Wanda Group
The day was closed by Wanda Group, the moniker for the UK based
experimental musician Louis Johnstone, who created spooky landscapes of
buzz saw sounds, hiss and distortion. He has established a special kind of
musique concrète aesthetic by stitching together tape spaghetti noise,
minimal loops and a beat, which is there, but very much under the surface.
His set was monotonous, yet full of intimate details. Unlike Klein, Wanda
Group’s approach perfectly fit into Karkowski’s idea of noise, it was a
consequent and logical finale of the day.
So, what remains of A´Larmé! VI ? It certainly is the most heterogeneous of
all “improv“ festivals, which is why you can question whether you can
pigeonhole it at all. The focus on electroacoustic music has never been so
strong before, which is a double-edged sword. On the one hand Louis
Rastig’s concept attracts a very diverse audience, on the classic festivals
like Unlimited! in Wels, Jazzwerkstatt in Peitz or Vision Festival in New
York (to name just a few) you neither see as many young people nor as many
women. On the other hand the rather traditional free jazz acts were more
enthusiastically celebrated by the people (that was at least my impression)
and the last day was poorly attended. Very subjectively, I’d like to have
it a bit more traditional, my favorite day was the third one, but I also
enjoyed Large Unit Rio and Gordoa/Malfon/Edwards/Narvesen a lot. What
distinguishes the festival from others is Rastig’s creative and focused
curating, in all the festivals over the years there has been some kind of
plan. And I like his announcements, they are a performance of their own. I
hope he and Karina Mertin can put together A’Larmé VII next year. However,
if I can suggest one thing: What about air conditioning?
Part II of a tribute to Polish Trumpeter Tomasz Stańko. See part I here.
Tomasz Stańko – Bluish (Power Bros, 1991)
By Colin Green On Bluish, Tomasz Stańko is joined by Arild Andersen (acoustic and electric bass) and
Jon Christensen (drums), a Norwegian rhythm section that is so much more.
On this album Stańko’s playing has all the hallmarks of his mature style: a
facility to chart the bones of a melody in icy tones with an abrasive edge
that seems to blister in its more intense moments, and an economy of
phrasing that gains power from what is omitted, merely implied, redolent of
Miles at his most abstract. The trio unspool complimentary threads with an
appreciation of pace and space which gives the album the intimacy of
chamber music. Stańko and Andersen, who share the compositional credits,
have a mutually sympathetic melodic sense able to develop tunes over an
extended span, but sadly this is the only occasion on which they recorded
together.
The album’s tone is set by the opening ‘Dialogue’, haunting trumpet and
deeply sonorous bass entwined in a melancholic ballad, leading into ‘Daada’
where they’re joined by Christensen’s wispy brushes and cymbals, the rubato
pulse allowing Stańko and Andersen to float freely. ‘Third Heavy Ballad’ is
indeed that, an arresting and soulful set of exchanges between soured
trumpet and lugubrious bass and on the title track (apparently named after
the place in the brain responsible for addictions) Stańko’s trumpet has a
phosphorescent glow, energised by Andersen’s ripe, velvety notes and waves
of percussion. Ethereal trumpet floats over a synthesized haze during the
two parts of ‘If You Look Enough’
A lighter mood breaks through from time to time. ‘My W.S.B. Friend’ is
relatively upbeat, and on ‘Bosanetta’ Christensen provides a Latin
accompaniment by way of a single muted cymbal – only a musician of his
standing would think of that.
Tomasz Stańko Quartet — Matka Joanna (ECM, 1995)
By Colin Green
This album marked Stańko’s return to the ECM label, and given Manfred
Eicher’s enthusiasm for film it’s fitting that the music takes its
inspiration from a landmark of Polish cinema: Matka Joanna od Aniołó (Mother Joan of the Angels) (1960) directed
by Jerzy Kawalerowicz, to whom the album is dedicated. In addition to
Stańko the session features Bobo Stenson (piano), Anders Jormin (double
bass) and Tony Oxley (drums).
Kawalerowicz’s atmospheric film concerns the demonic possession of a group
of nuns, a monk who is sent to exorcise the mother superior, and their
conflicted psychological relationship; a study of temptation, suppression
and the nature of evil, actual and imagined. Sound is used sparingly and
affectively during the film which includes long spans without dialogue. The
album is not an alternative soundtrack however, though several pieces
clearly reference scenes from the film, its uneasy moods and striking black
and white imagery, some of which is reproduced on the cover and booklet.
The quartet’s music is pared-down, frequently held together by the thinnest
of threads; visions materialising out of the air into a harsh light then
slowly, crumbling away. As in the film, events unfurl within a wintry
landscape, enhanced by ECM’s typically spacious recording.
There’s a feeling throughout that the music plots shifting relations,
beginning with ‘Monastery in the Dark’ and the solitary sound of Oxley’s
crystalline percussion from which emerges a plangent tune on trumpet joined
by sparse piano, gradually taken up by everyone. Here and elsewhere there
are pregnant pauses and passages where the music is stripped back even
further to meditative trios and duos. Oxley’s role is textural: transitory
flicks and clicks scattered across the soundstage, and when bass or piano
play alone they amount to reflective monologues rather than solos. The
longest track, ‘Matka Joanna from the Angels’, is a slow-moving liturgy
with Jormin’s dark and sculptural bass reverberating at its centre.
Not all the pieces are related to the film’s themes and some are new
workings of previous material. On ‘Green Sky’, a tune dating back to 1975,
Stenson’s contributions are exercises in neo-classical restraint and deft
articulation, a perfect match for Stanko’s yearning, expressionistic
trumpet. ‘Tales for a Girl, 12’ is extracted from Stańko’s suite of that
name recorded for trumpet and synthesiser in 1991, another wiry melody
drawn out and dissolved by degrees. ‘Two Preludes for Tales’, which follows
five tracks later (classic Eicher sequencing) consists of skeletal versions
of the same tune, for trumpet and then elegant piano. Oxley’s
‘Klostergeist’ concludes — unearthly gongs and cymbals against a backdrop
of ambient rustling as the album returns to pure sound, as it opened.
Possibly Stańko’s bleakest recording and admittedly, not music for every
occasion, Matka Joanna nevertheless has a frozen beauty all its
own.
Tomasz Stańko Septet - Litania - Music of Krzysztof Komeda (ECM, 1997)
Polish jazz pianist Krzysztof Komeda became known internationally primarily for the soundtracks he wrote for several films by Polish film director Roman Polanski such as "Rosemary's Baby" and "Knife In The Water". Komeda performed in small jazz clubs, fascinated by the music that came over from the US. One of his band-mates in the early and mid-sixties was trumpeter Tomasz Stańko.
No wonder that Tomasz Stańko released this tribute to his famous friend. We find him in the company of Bernt Rosengren on tenor saxophone, Joakim Milder on tenor and soprano saxophone, Bobo Stenson on piano, Palle Danielsson on bass, and Jon Christensen on drums, and finally Terje Rypdal on electric guitar on two tracks. Because the music comes from the movies mentioned above, the boppish ballads sound cinematic with a kind of outdated friendliness for the source material. It is slow, meditative music, that will probably not energise many of the listeners of this blog, yet it is worth listening to, if only for the dark melancholy themes that Komeda composed, and the wonderful musicianship that brings it back to life. The center piece of the album is the long "Night-time, Daytime Requiem", dedicated to John Coltrane, a suite-like piece full of drama and shifting between slow moody moments and more uptempo moments of distress.
The most beautiful piece, is "Svantetic", one of Komeda's signature compositions, with a slow theme that is built up from long sustained notes on the horns, shifting into staccato changes and a a more dancing and boppish development. Cinematic and jazzy at the same time. Wonderful.
"Ballad For Bernt" is dedicated to Bernt Rosengren, and it's wonderful that he is participating in this album, 35 years after initially recording it with Komeda.
"The Witch" is a totally different animal: a dark, rhythmless sonic exploration of dread, tension and doom, offering a key role to Rypdal's magnificent guitar playing.
Like the other ECM albums, this one also comes with the great art work the label is known for, and this one especially synthesises Komeda's music well : dark, cinematic and dynamic.
Tomasz Stańko Quartet – Suspended Night (ECM, 2004)
In 2006, I had the opportunity to see Tomasz Stańko perform at Edgefest,
Ann Arbor, Michigan’s annual avant-garde/creative jazz festival. I was only
superficially familiar with Stańko’s work prior to that show. But the thing
that made the biggest impression on me besides the music (which was
outstanding) was Stańko’s undeniable generosity and self-effacement. Here
he was playing with guys essentially half his age, a giant among relative
unknowns; but he carried himself as just another member of the
group—someone merely happy to have another chance to make music.
The quartet for that performance was Stańko’s band on Suspended Night, one of his later releases on ECM and his second
album with pianist Marcin Wasilewski, bassist Slawomir Kurkiewicz and
drummer Michal Miskiewicz, a trio that has gone on to record a few of its
own dates for ECM. Here they are perfect in providing a sympathetic
foundation for Stańko’s somber lyricism, the occasional rough edges of his
previous music largely smoothed out in favor of languid, spare lines that
are filled with beauty and wonder. The band does generate a bit of heat on
a couple of the tracks—“Variation VI” in particular allows Stańko to move
outside the closely-defined parameters of most of the album with some
jagged, ecstatic bursts. But as was evident on the record’s predecessor, Soul of Things, and the one that followed it, Lontano,
this is music intended to plumb darker emotional depths rather than ignite
coruscating energy.
Like Kenny Wheeler, another trumpeter whose early recordings were at the
forefront of the avant-garde but who similarly took on a more restrained,
subtle approach to his instrument during his later years, Stańko showed no
diminishment in creativity simply because he pursued a less obstreperous
path during the last phase of his career. Indeed, it was in his eagerness
to work with younger musicians, whether the Wasilewski Trio or the New York
Quartet of his last couple releases, that Stańko proved his ongoing
vitality and significance. Always searching for new ways of creating
beauty, and to find new partners for that search, Stańko epitomized the
spirit that has allowed jazz to flourish over so many decades, in all its
many forms.
Lontano is no doubt among my favorite Stańko albums. The Polish quartet he's been playing with for many years reaches a level of confidence that goes beyond the agreed form, allowing them to improvise in an almost magic coherence of tone and mood, and without ever tumbling into the danger of clichés. The band are Tomasz Stańko trumpet, Marcin Wasilewski on piano, Slawomir Kurkiewicz on bass, and Michal Miskiewicz on drums.
Stańko's sound, oscillating between the closed warm intimate space of cool jazz and the more expansive spacious exploratory adventure of free music, is at its best here.
Each piece has composed elements, even if those are just anchor points for the musicians, and completely different directions can be taken midway in an improvisation, as in the title track, when free form completely replaces the initial warm theme, only to be changed later by yet another move into a post-boppish rhythm driven by Wasilewski's piano. Yet despite this stylistic shifts, the melancholy mood of the piece is maintained and colored with additional sentiments of anguish and despair, and finally a kind of resignation. It requires a very good understanding among the musicians to take these musical shifts seamlessly, and it happens here.
The long title track gets a second version in the middle of the album and a third version at the end.
In the middle of the album, we get the quartet's interpretation of "Kattorna", a nervous Komeda composition full of dramatic changes and cinematic themes, that also figures on the iconic "Astigmatic" album.
This album represent Stańko at his purest, with a balanced coherence and unity of voice, and wonderfully produced by Manfred Eicher as can be expected, with every instrument recorded as it should be, crystal clear.
Tomasz Stańko New York Quartet - Wisława (ECM, 2013)
In January 2009 Polish poet and Nobel laureate Wisława Szymborska and trumpeter Tomasz Stańko recorded a concert at the Krakow Opera hall, which was released three years later as a book/disc, Tutaj/Here (captured here). Szymborska read 12 of her most famous poems and Stańko responded with immediate, concise reflections. You don’t have to understand the Polish language to grasp the love and appreciation that Szymborska and Stańko shared for each other. Her compassionate, sometimes sobering irony (she was introduced in this concert as the “Greta Garbo of the poetic world”) corresponded perfectly with his lyrical, melancholic humor.
Four months after Szymborska's death on February 2012, Stańko recorded an emotional homage to her, simply calling it Wisława, where he offered extended meditations-reflections on some of the same poems recorded on Tutaj/Here. The double-album Wisława was recorded far from Poland, in New York with the newly-founded New York Quartet - pianist David Virelles, double bass player Thomas Morgan, and drummer Gerald Cleaver. Ironically, none of these young musicians is a New York native, but maybe the distance from Poland, the outsider perspective on the world, life itself or the local musical and artistic scene is what connected these gifted musicians to Szymborska's poetic world. After all, her poems introduced a unique perspective on our lives and the world, often as seen by an outsider with keen, insightful observations.
The promising New York Quartet recorded only one other album, the beautiful December Avenue (ECM, 2017). On both albums the quartet sounded as just beginning to explore its great potential. Stańko’s free, dark ballads were interpreted majestically by this quartet. This sense of the exploring a new phase in Stańko rich musical life is intensified when visiting again Szymborska’s suggestive poems. The you can enjoy his intimate sense of profound inspiration as his own nuanced, lyrical poetic vision.
Tomasz Stańko New York Quartet – December Avenue (ECM, 2017)
Later in his life, after Stańko had moved to New York City, he put together a quarter comprised of younger players. On December Avenue, his last studio recording, featured this brilliant and sympathetic group of Gerald Cleaver on drums, David Virelles on piano, and Reuben Rogers on bass. The music here is measured, thoughtful, and lyrical, and it still contained that special tone and feel that Stańko brought to all of his work. The opening four minutes of "Cloud" is as lovely as one could want, with Virelles providing a melancholic, but not overly romantic, accompaniment for Stańko's wistful melody. The second track, funnily named "Conclusion", switches modes, and a much tougher trumpet rides over a deep pocketed bass line. The track "Blue Cloud" is a great example of the group's effectiveness. Virelles' solo is angular and pointed, over the tight rhythm work of Cleaver and Rogers, and Stańko drops in lines with laser like precision. "Sound Space" begins with slow balladic motion and ends with a crashing piano passage, and the title track features an infectious groove that continues as an infectious modern jazz piece. A wonderful album, and sadly, his last.
I had been looking forward to Friday's program, and buoyed by last night's concerts, I was ready. Maybe what had piqued my interests most was that the line-up featured a solid core of free jazz, topped off with a bit of video enhanced electronic post-rock. Again the heat was an issue, but unlike earlier in the week, when the night temperature in Berlin hit an all time high, the evening was cooling off a bit and a slightly smaller crowd helped to regulate the temperature in the main hall, though not in the smaller Saal, where we begin our dripping.
Martin Siewert and Katharina Ernst
The opening group was the collaboration between guitarist Martin Siewert and drummer Katharina Ernst. The Austrian duo began with a klang, a noisy clash of string and pounding of the drums - a perfect wake up call if the heat was making anyone drowsy. A brutal few minutes followed, until a painful shriek from the guitar flew forth, over the basic beat, and something changed. Leaning over his electronics, Siewert began manipulating the oscillations and with Ernst, began riding a wave. As it crested and came rolling to the shore, the mood changed again. Siewert began playing chords, moving around the fretboard at an even pace, while Ernst pulled back and let in some air. The calm melted away soon enough, as the guitarist began to apply more random fingerings and a new clatter arose from the drums. The tempo sped up and the crush of sound became support for some distinct distorted guitar lines that Siewert then began to process and re-mix on his synthesizer. Using dynamics well to shape the music, they brought their well-timed set to a close over some finger-picked guitar lines and fading percussion.
Michael Zerang and the Blue Lights
Following a short break, the audience shuffled into the main hall where Chicago's Michael Zerang and the Blue Lights took the stage. The line-up was Zerang on drums, looking sharp with a great hat reminiscent of Luigi from the Mario Brothers, the ever solid Kent Kessler on upright bass, and the powerful horns of David Rempis (alto sax), John Dikeman (tenor sax), and Josh Berman (cornet). It was a classic line up, and they delivered an extremely enjoyable set of songs that played off a flawless juxtaposition of composition and improvisation. The stylish tunes had a cinematic quality to them with arrangements sometimes like film scores, with hints of big band arrangements (done on a very small scale!) and Middle-Eastern and far Eastern melodic elements. The first song "Dancing for Cigarettes" featured a solo by Rempis, who kept it close to the song's feel, followed by a more irreverent solo by Dikeman. On the tune "The Third Pythia of Flin Flon (for Shirka)", which Zerang dedicated to the late trombonist Johannes Bauer, Berman had a chance to stand out, which he did with aplomb, delivering a vibrant solo over the deep and bright groove. Kessler's bass work was stoic and powerful, often keeping to simply effective lines that supported and moved the music, but in the intro to the tune "Punch Uncle", which Zerang dedicated to Peter Broetzmann, he played a bowed intro that captured well the fury and romance of the saxophonist. A roiling solo from Zerang helped to close the show, and the audience was enthralled.
Elizabeth Harnik, Matilda Rolfsson, and Joëlle Léandre
In contrast to the compositions of previous show, the trio of bassist Joëlle Léandre, percussionist Matilda Rolfsson, and pianist Elizabeth Harnik, played off deep intuition and tacit understandings. There was little spoken between the three, except for some last minute tuning for the bass (which in the sauna like atmosphere is a terrible challenge for a wooden instrument), before they opened up with a quiet exploration. Rolfsson has an unusual approach to her instrument, turning the bass-drum on its head, she treats it like a floor tom, using brushes and mallets to manifest a quiet and textural percussive sound. Harnik approached the piano half on the inside - striking and scraping at the strings, and half at the keyboard - playing well structured arpeggios and tight melodic themes. Léandre's bass work was, as usual, superlative. Her approach is both demanding and melodic, but open to suggestion. It was through this give and take that the three musicians generated the quiet and expectant atmosphere. Breaking into pairs and then reforming as a trio, they played off the tensions in their close interactions, leaving much unsaid, which only served to make what was played all the more powerful. They closed the set with their most intense piece, replete with Harnik striking hard tonal clusters, Léandre bowing and vocalizing without words, and Rolfsson making a quiet howl onto the expanse of her bass drum.
Phillip Gropper's Philm
Sticking in the smaller Saal, the next group up was saxophonist Phillip Gropper's Philm. Gropper is a busy member on the Berlin scene - he's been a part of Christian Lillinger's Hyperactive Kid, and is active on the WhyPlayJazz label (on which a live album from Philm was recently released, "Live at Bimhuis"), and with Philm he explores a type of modern jazz that has its comparisons with the math-jazz of Tim Berne. The line up was Gropper on tenor sax, Elias Stemeseder on piano and syntheziser, Robert Landfermann on upright bass, and Oliver Steidle on drums. The set opened with an atonal blast, some definitive whacks at the drum, and electronics slowly ramping up the tension. Gropper's blasts of tones slotted in with the blips of synthesizer and taut beats, and act like small musical units that begin like a box of micro-legos dumped out onto a table, which ultimately fit together into a 3-D musical object. These bits all add up, and through it, they bring the music to climaxes and then introduce new timbres. Stemeseder's switch to the piano provided a relief from the rhythmic patterns at the right moments, and Landfermann's fluid approach to his five string bass helps bridge the pieces. Overall tight and methodical, the music never relaxed into long melodies or solos, rather, it was a tightening and loosening of sound, and changes in the pressure, that moved the music along. Unlike the jump-cuts of John Zorn, or the modular repetition of Nik Bartsch, or the snaking and overlapping patterns of Snakeoil, Philm is an ever shifting bricolage of tones and textures, forced together into unsettling but ultimately satisfying music.
Radian & Billy Roisz/Dieb 13
The end of the evening was turned over to the post-rock sounds and ambient visuals of Radian & Billy Roisz/dieb13. The collective of Martin Brandlemayr (drums, electronics), Martin Siewert (guitars, electronics), John Norman (bass), Billy Roisz (bass, electronics), and dieb13 (turntables), were set up in the main hall, each at table with electronics and/or their instrument, playing in front of the movie screen showing impressionistic films, guiding the music. I slipped out into the moderately cooler air of the night as another successful night of the festival wound down.
Earlier this week, legendary Polish trumpeter Tomasz Stańko passed away (learn more here). This weekend on the Free Jazz Blog we pay tribute to his work with a selective and wholly subjective dive into his discography.
Krzysztof Komeda Quintet – Astigmatic (Polskie Nagrania Muza, 1966)
Recorded in Warsaw in December 1965 by Krzysztof Komeda (piano), Tomasz
Stańko (trumpet), Zbigniew Namysłowski (alto saxophone), Günter Lenz
(double bass) and Rune Carlsson (drums), this album has been described by
ECM’s Manfred Eicher as a milestone in the history of jazz, having what
came to be thought of as a distinctly European sound, blending modal jazz,
folk music, and classical sonorities with the improvisational experiments
of the new thing from America. Significantly, Komeda also wrote film music,
and by the time of his tragic death in 1969 had composed more than 70
soundtracks.
The title piece, named after an eye condition in which images are blurred,
is 23 minutes in length and cinematic in scope, a succession of episodes
each having a discrete focus and dynamic. It is built around a simple cell,
which in its emphatic form repeatedly hammered out in Bartokian fashion by
Komeda, resembles a similar device in Eric Dolphy’s ‘Hat and Beard’. The
motif is used to generate the solos, each passage employing different
methods of storytelling. Komeda’s piano dissipates into washes;
Namysłowski’s effusive alto combines Ornette’s asymmetry and Sonny Rollins’
virtuoso cadenzas; Lenz’s bass is tightly compressed, and the drum solo is
reduced to stuttering chatter. Caught at the outset of his musical journey,
Stańko is more loquacious that in later years but his voice is
recognisable, splintered and dazzling.
The two other tracks are ‘Kattorna’ based on a theme from Komeda's
soundtrack for a film of the same name, and ‘Svantetic’, dedicated to
Svante Foerster, a Swedish poet and friend. Both show Komeda’s gift for
pungent melodies — like Ayler’s ‘Ghosts’, indebted to European folk
harmonies — and his piquant unison voicings, qualities heard later in
Stańko’s own music.
Tomasz Stańko Quintet – Jazzmessage From Poland (JG Records, 1972)
Featuring Stańko’s early ‘70s quintet with Zbigniew Seifert on violin, Janusz Muniak on flute, tenor sax, and percussion, Bronislaw Suchanek on bass, and Janusz Stefanski on drums, Jazzmessage From Poland encapsulates its title perfectly. Opening with Stefanski, the band locks into a furious groove. When the theme of “Aeoioe” surfaces, you get a clear picture of Stańko’s bold melodic style. This is the same group that recorded Music For K and Purple Sun, and it’s thrilling to hear the young group, hungry and searching. When I heard Stańko had died, I was heartbroken. My grandmother's family came from Łódź, and, growing up in the ‘70s and ‘80s, my impression of Poland was that of a lost country. Moving from German to Soviet control, its own, singular identity appeared to fade. Stańko’s trumpet, a corrective to my misperception, has always moved me, and the silence is now just as loud.
Tomasz Stańko - TWET (Polskie Nagrania Muza, 1974)
The title is an acronym made of from the first letter of the names of each band member: Polish reeds player Tomasz Szukalski, American bassist Peter Warren, Finnish drummer Edward Vesala, and Tomasz Stanko. It's is a first-rate treat of free jazz that bristles with energy all these years since it's release. Throughout the tracks, all improvised, there is an undercurrent of tension that does not let go, and even as the music explodes, there is hint a reservation, imbued in Stanko's distinct tone and deliberate phrasings from Warren. The recording was made in Warsaw in 1974 and was the predecessor to Stańko classic Balladyna, his first ECM recording. Track this one down if you don't already have it, from the opening musical exploration to the intense free playing on "Man from the North" towards the end of side B, it is a masterwork.
From the first notes of Tomasz Stańko‘s solo on the titular track of the 1976 recording Balladyna, he burns completely. Somehow, he produces sounds out of the trumpet that are so visceral it sounds as though he is crying, or even screaming. He is not just playing; he is breathing fire. Nonetheless, he plays very little, remaining fully present in every silence. Even when he plays "out", he somehow maintains a melodic line that is almost hummable. He exercises a profound restraint, one that is both masterful and unique. In unleashing the fire of his instrument, he gives himself so fully that nothing is left, not ego or reservation, only music.
To leave so much space requires an immense amount of trust. Fortunately, Stańko's trust is well-placed with Tomasz Szukalski on sax, Dave Holland on bass, and Edward Vesala on drums. Stańko assembled an incredible band, and the interplay on the album is fascinating. His bond with Dave Holland is particularly apparent on "Duet". Throughout, Stańko demonstrates his ability guide a band without overwhelming it.
Not only has Stańko left a legacy in his recordings, he has impacted the work of many young musicians. Notably, Polish pianist Marcin Wasilewski, whom Stańko mentored, covered “Balladyna” in his 2008 ECM release January. Stańko’s sound will continue to live on, with its beauty and intensity. Though his flame may have now have gone out, he is forever burnt in our memories.
Tomasz Stańko Quartet - Almost Green (Leo Records, 1979)
Almost Green
is the last in a series of four albums recorded by the trio of Tomasz
Stańko, Tomasz Szukalski and Edward Vesala from 1974-1979. In this interval
the threesome released TWET, Balladyna, Live at Remont, and Almost Green, each featuring a different bassist (Peter Warren,
Dave Holland, Antti Hytti, and Palle Danielsson, respectively). Of the four Almost Green, to me, is the most lyrical, melancholic, and longing
of his 70’s work (almost a foretaste of his later, more mature works for
ECM). The main theme is utterly dramatic, and it rears its head in
fragments and variations throughout the album, providing a cohesiveness
that serves to distinguish Almost Green from the other LPs. The
solos are poignant, meticulous, dazzling rays of sunlight that burst
through the overcast mood of the six tracks. It feels as if after three
probing, exploratory records together the quartet knew exactly what they
wanted to say.
Tomasz Stanko – Music From Taj Mahal And Karla Caves (Leo, 1980)
By Stef Gijssels I can also recommend this album, even if it's unrepresentative of Stańko's work: a rare and hard to find album of solo trumpet improvisations, recorded in India. Just to be clear: Taj Mahal is not the blues singer but the famous tomb of Mumtaz Mahal, the wife of Indian Mughal Shah Jahan, and Karla Caves is not an unknown jazz singer, but a complex of caves in the west of India. Luckily for all of us, it's somehow available on Youtube. It's the only solo record by Stańko and worth cherishing. His natural melancholy is present here, yet in an even more reverent and spiritual context. The sounds resonate and echo in the empty marble and rock spaces, giving the improvisations an uncanny depth, as if electronically enhanced. Like on all his albums, also here his sound is torn between freedom and comfort, between adventure and homeyness, between timbral explorations and tenderness.
The heat games, part two. Yesterday we already mentioned how hot it is in
Berlin and that it was hard to follow the opening concerts in a packed
venue without any air-conditioning. The temperature was certainly around
50° C. While the first day’s concerts took place in the Hall, the first
concert yesterday was on in the Saloon - where it was even hotter.
Andrea Belfi on drums and synthesizer and Valerio Tricoli on Revox B 77
As to music yesterday’s concerts showed a certain continuity in Louis
Rastig’s concept. Rastig, the artistic director of the festival, seems to
apply patterns and aspects in the configuration of his festivals -
musically with his focus on voice and electronics but also with a certain
continuity as to the arrangement of the individual artists. Like last year,
when the festival started in Berlin’s famous techno club Berghain where
they could use the club’s powerhouse sound system, this year’s opening acts
Maja Ratkje and Method of Defiance used volume as an essential element of
their music. Also like last year, the Saloon was equipped with a quadruple
sound system, which worked quite nicely for Andrea Belfi on drums and
synthesizer and Valerio Tricoli on Revox B 77 (a stereo reel to reel tape),
the openers of day 2. Their music continued Maja Ratkje’s performance from
the day before and could best be described as trippy intelligent techno
supported by free jazz drumming, a bit like Aphey Twin’s ambient stuff on
speed. Tricoli’s electronics delivered the static moments, while Belfi’s
drumming could be extremely dynamic and pushing. However, as soon as he
decided to play time, the music came to a standstill, actually a moment of
great intensity. In general, the abrupt changing of structures made the
music all the more exciting, when the quieter, minimal and sombre moments
were foiled by the progrock organ samples towards the end of the set, for
example. All in all, a nice surprise, even if it was a bit too long for my
taste.
Księżyc
After a short break that was just long enough to buy a bottle of water,
Księżyc was ready to start in the Hall. Every year Louis Rastig has a lucky
bag in his program. Two years ago it was The Great Hans Unstern Swindle
(which wasn’t my cup of tea), in 2017 it was Kaja Draksler’s Octet, and
this year Księżyc were supposed to play that role. The band was unknown to
most people in the audience, but - to cut a long story short - played an
excellent set enriched with funny gimmicks. Księżyc is the Polish word for
“moon“, “which perfectly encapsulates the contemplative sound of the
Warsaw-based experimental music ensemble“ (according to the festival’s
liner notes). The band, which was completely dressed in black, consists of
Agata Harza and Kasia Smoluk on vocals and little objects, Lechosław Polak
(accordion, keyboards, synth), Remigiusz Mazur Hanaj (tapes, hurdy-gurdy,
violin) and Robert Nizinski (clarinet, keys, objects) and plays an earthy,
repetitive form of experimental sound art in combination with minimal
drones and avant-garde neo-folk. They created a surreal, otherworldly
atmosphere by using elegiac vocals, elements of Polish klezmer (especially
the clarinet) and cembalo and violin phrases. Dynamics were mainly created
by the changing of the instruments. Towards the end of the set the
hurdy-gurdy was put to the fore and the music became extremely psychedelic
and monotonous (in appositive way), it reminded me of La Monte Young.
However, the two singers broke the moanful atmosphere by playing with all
kinds objects like an illuminated balloon, hoses, glasses, coins etc. What
was more, for some reason the heat became bearable, which made the set even
more enjoyable.
Emilio Gordoa (vibraphone), Dag Magnus Narvesen (drums), John Edwards (bass), Don Malfon (saxes)
“It’s not about power structures, nothing like that. It’s about
consciousness and allowing yourself to be open to things, to love them,”
Laurie Anderson said in an interview. It’s like a definition of improvised
music and after three acts that focused on electronics it was time for some
free jazz. And Emilio Gordoa (vibraphone), Don Malfon (saxes), John Edwards
(bass), Dag Magnus Narvesen (drums) really provided it - with everything
that’s so great about that music. Gordoa used an all-over-approach as to
his instrument (like Barry Guy with his bass), Narvesen played like a
rampant Tony Oxley, Malfon was reminiscent of John Butcher and John Edwards
was just being John Edwards - the most imaginative and most creative bass
player around these days. The quartet showed that the day’s motto was
dynamics and structure. While Księżyc chose a rather monotonous approach,
this band was much more versatile. Gordoa downright attacked his instrument
with a violin bow, bottles, tension belts and little motors, Edwards was
strumming his bass relentlessly and Malfon and Narvesen just added fuel to
the flames. From one second to the other the quartet was able to contrast
these exuberant free jazz rides with super-slow contemplative sound
explorations. Here the band concentrated on very sublime patterns, finely
chiseled motives, and a subtle handling of silence. There were lots of
almost magical moments in this set, it was just fun to see how Edwards
organized the tempo and how Gordoa and Narvesen watched and rooted for each
other. After the acts before this had an almost cathartic effect, the
audience really freaked out at the end of the set.
Paal Nilssen-Love’s Large Unit Rio
Another thing this festival has in common with the one last year was the
fact that Rastig had a large ensemble at the end of the second day. In 2017
it was Nate Wooley’s Seven Storey Mountain, this year it was Paal
Nilssen-Love’s Large Unit Rio. Frankly speaking, with such a well-oiled
machine you actually can’t go wrong, especially because they decided to
play a selection of their greatest hits like “Ana“, “Fluku“ and “Rio Fun“
plus “Zoom Zoom Zoom“, the latter a composition I’m not familiar with (I
hope I spelled it correctly). For this set Large Unit was joined by
Brazilian percussionists Celio Decarvalho and Paulinho Bicolor (on cuica). With two
drummers Large Unit has always had a strong percussive focus but with the
two Brazilians it was even augmented. The set started with the four
percussionists and it was clear where they were heading - to a more
swinging, easy going, light-footed music. After a short, almost fragile
mentioning of the “Ana“ theme, the band soon created crazy tutti parts,
which were organized by trumpeter Thomas Johansson. There was also some
outstanding soloing by saxophonist Julie Kjaer, guitarist Kjetil Gutwik,
Thomas Johansson, Celio Decarvalho and the always exceptional trombonist
Mats Aleklint. The way this ensemble deals with dynamics is obvious: From
the pre-conceived heads they culled smaller formations which developed
excellent improvisation parts, sometimes the band was reduced to duos or
trios, or when the complete horn section communicated like a flock of
birds. All in all, the expectations were high for Large Unit Rio and they
more than fulfilled it. It’ll be difficult for the bands of the next day to
excel these performances. And what was most important for the audience: The
heat was tolerable.
Danish Adam Pultz Melbye, American Luke Stewart, and Italian Antoni Bertoni (who is using a prepared cello this time) are not just bass players who keep investigating the deep-tones of their instruments. These musicians are some kind of mad sonic scientists who keep expanding the experience of diving solo, deep into low, highly resonant universes.
Adam Pultz Melbye - Measures (Noema, 2017) ***½
Measures is the second solo album of Berlin-based Danish double bassist Adam Pultz Melbye, following Gullet (Barefoot Records, 2014). On Gullet, Melbye explored different free-improvisation strategies as well as the sonic qualities of the bull fiddle. On Measures, recorded in Berlin on January through March 2017, he focuses on an investigation of slow evolving, unstable and resonant textures.
The first piece “Boolean” suggests a minimalist drone that focuses on how a highly disciplined and methodical bowing of the bass creates a multilayered texture comprised of endless waves of resonant tones and overtones. On the second, title-piece Melbye’s methodical, disciplined bowing is reflected by a subtle sonic layer of sine waves that shifts the minimalist atmosphere of the resonant texture to an ethereal, at times even a transparent one, certainly more enigmatic and serene.
Measures is released on Melbye’s label Noema in an original, environmentally-conscious package, recycling pieces of broken double bass strings. Melbye with Polish visual artist Lena Czerniawska sealed each string in a vacuum pack with handwritten text by Czerniawska, reflecting upon the impermanence of the physical world.
Luke Stewart - Works for Upright Bass and Amplifier (Astral Spirits, 2018) ***½
Washington DC based Luke Stewart is a busy, resourceful man. He plays the double bass and saxophone in Irreversible Entanglements, Laughing Man, James Brandon Lewis Trio, Trio OOO, Ancestral Duo and in few more groups. He is also a booker, promoter, radio DJ and writer, editor of avant-garde music in CapitalBop.com, who has interviewed few innovative bass players as William Parker, Trevor Dunn, John Hébert and Shayna Dulberger.
His debut solo album, Works for Upright Bass & Amplifier, is a 48-minutes piece, using written & original improvised structures, that Stewart has been performing live at art exhibitions throughout 2017. Stewart focuses on a drone texture that investigates the tension between his playing of the double bass, most of the time by bowing it or attaching objects to the strings, and the amplification and manipulation of this disciplined human touch to static, electric noise and feedback. Patiently, Stewart introduces new dynamics to the almost dance-like interplay of his fierce and urgent bowing and the quiet and delicate, monotonous feedback hum of the amplifier, enriching and coloring the drone with more and more nuanced sounds and offering a dramatic yet loose narrative. Later, deep into this drone, there are times that Stewart plays more with the feedback layer of the amplifier, makes it more dynamic and even more tangible than his disciplined bowing and strumming of the bass strings.
Antonio Bertoni - Terre occidentali (loup editions, 2018) ***
The Italian Anthony Bertoni is a double bass player-cellist-luthier who likes to extend the sonic range of his old, new and his own invented instruments - among them recycled guitars, double string moth bow, amplified table, tea-set instruments and motorized musical box - with found objects and electronics. Terre occidentali is Bertoni attempt to build a nonlinear electro-acoustic system where simple elements of sound would generate unpredictable sonic events.
The basic sound source of Terre occidentali are sine waves of the modular synthesizer. These sounds were transcribed to the frequencies of the cello and Beroni transferred them through surface inducers - devices that convert the electric energy to acoustic one, attached to the prepared cello. The cello strings were tuned to lower frequencies than the usual (C 64 Hz, G 96 Hz, C 128 Hz, G 192 Hz) in order to maximize the resonant effect of each string. Then, the cello itself acted as a filter, “envelope generator” and resonant body, allowing Beroni to shape these manipulated electronic sounds with microtonal shifts and percussive patterns close to African rhythms. Bertoni managed to create a unique, otherworldly and ethereal sonic experience, where delicate and nuanced, acoustic and electric sounds blend together and become a fluid entity with its own independent, capricious rationale.
It was hot and still in Berlin. Even sitting outside Radialsystem V, alongside the Spree river there was little relief. This was about a half hour before the doors opened to the big event hall where the festival was about to kick off with a solo set by Norwegian vocalist and sound artist Maja S.K. Ratkje and Bill Laswell's 'doom raggae' outfit Method of Defiance with violinist Laurie Anderson. The groups were playing two sets each tonight.
We filed into the event hall, climbed the bleacher to some empty seats, and watched as the place filled up. It was SRO - sweating room only - as one of the event organizers, Louis Rastig, came out on the stage and invited the crowd to the first night of A L'arme! Festival, which was now in its 6th year. Outlining the next four days of music, the line-up indicated the maturation of the festival, solidifying its curation of avant-garde jazz with a very strong electronic element throughout, presenting a very edgy view of the state of play. In fact, my colleague with whom I was attending the festival, Martin Schray, had traced the tradition of forward thinking jazz festivals in Germany, linking A L'arme! with the famous Total Music Meetings of the 70s, 80s and 90s. A flip through the program underscored this with the featuring of Laswell's group, featuring a DJ and plenty of other electronics along with the other instruments, the Paal Nilssen-Love’s Large Unit Rio presenting a modern take on the big band, Phillip Gropper's Philm representing the state of angular modern jazz in Berlin, among many others, culminating in the final night of all electronic based groups. It was going to be exciting, and really, really hot.
Set I:
Maja S.K. Ratkje. Photo by Martin Schray.
Maja S.K. Ratkje has a long list of collaborators, but for her opening set at A L'arme!, she was performing solo, armed with a table full of electronics sporting a messy array of patch cables, and a microphone. Cloaked in darkness, with a spotlight directly on her, Ratkje was like a poltergeist messing about with the aural environment. She sang single notes and short phrases into the microphone, and quickly processed them into something altogether different - adding distortion and delay - and a whole new meaning to 'vocal fry'. Over a small child-like melody, she wove a spooky sound tapestry with her voice and electronic manipulations. Ratjke built layer upon layer of sound, thoughtfully and deliberately adding new ones to flesh out her sculpture. As the music grew denser, its effect was more surreal and tense.
Reaching a climax, Ratkje then dropped all sound but her voice and a repetitious klang. Then, pulling out a Mbira, she began the layering anew. It was truly a unique sound experience, with a structure of the song being a folk like melody that she sang and then looped, twisted, and then looped and twisted again. Next, pulling out a sheet of plastic, she began assaulting the microphone. The sound was crushing, but at the same time, lithe and alien.
Avant-garde music is meant to foster new experiences, introduce ideas that are far from the mainstream, and may - or may not - come to anything. However, Ratkje's performance achieved something special. I thought about how probably the first time Peter Brotzmann let out his reedy overblown cries, it pushed the boundaries of the avant-garde, but eventually became a tradition itself, and I could imagine this happening with something like what I had just hear. So, a highly unusual and successful start to an experimental music festival.
Method of Defiance. Photo by Martin Schray
A quick pause between acts, and then Method of Defiance came on. Slowly. They began with a percussive groove, then the deep throb of Bill Laswell's liquid bass kicked in, and Laurie Anderson joined. Locked into the throes of a sultry mid-tempo loop, when the sound of the electronically manipulated cornet burst through, it felt like an update of the swampy electronic jams from 1970's Miles Davis, updated to the 2000s. The group on stage was Laswell on electric bass, Dr. Israel on vocals and sampler, Graham Haynes on cornet (and electronics), DJ Logic on turntables, Laurie Anderson on violin, vocals (and a little sampling keyboard too), and a drummer Guy Licata. Laswell led the cyborg unit via deliberate note choices. His minimalist but extremely fluid bass lines signaled the mood and tempo changes almost tacitly.
Haynes' cornet helped push the music along harmonically and Dr. Isreal occasional raps spiced up the mix. His cadence drew seductively on Reggae, but unfortunately I could not catch the lyrics. Anderson's violin added texture and contrast, and her stray telling added a twist of sardonic humor. Mid-set she told the story of the November 2016 US election. Waking up in New York on the gray November day, slowly coming to the realization that something had gone terribly awry, and wondering why it as so quiet, why no one was saying anything. Then, she said, Yoko Ono posted a one minute scream to Facebook. It was not an avant-garde scream, she explained, it was not laced with deeper meaning and multiple contexts, rather it was true terror. She then invited the audience to make their own ten seconds of scream, which segued neatly into a a new vibrant groove.
Some of the set's music felt a little wandering, and in sitting in the audience, dripping sweat, it felt like it could move a little faster. However, the moments when the band really fired up, it was sublime. Laswell and Haynes were a duo that I'd like to hear to more from, as they connected deeply but moved in intriguing counter motion. In the final moments of the piece, Hayne's introduced a long coda, that along with Anderson's violin work, and DJ Logics' choice of samples, gave Anderson a chance for a second story, delivered though a voice modulator deepening her tone, she expounded on the human condition and praised the stars for being something we could not destroy, yet always reach for. It brought the set to a rousing finale, and we were ready to see if the evening outside had cooled down at all.
Maja S.K. Ratkje’s first set had a strong focus on noise - and she put that aspect even more to the front in her second set. Her performance was more percussive than the first one, noise was used as a some kind of pulse, for example with the help of the sheet of plastic from the first set. Again Ratkje pulled up layer after layer of sound, her vocals were crassly overdriven, in general it was brutally loud (the floor was vibrating), the music was like an accumulation of sound waves that seemed to drag you under water. There were less vocals in the second part, it was the electronics that dominated. If there was voice it was processed and sometimes sounded like a high-pitched machine gun or a manic beat box. However, she also deployed more subtle elements. When she put in little bells or her thumb piano, she created a lot of tinkling, which was interesting to follow. But these silent and fragile parts seemed to drown in this ocean of noise. Like before Ratkje used Norwegian folk songs and children songs, which she alienated with all kinds of electronics. Sometimes she sounded like an absolutely loony Björk. Like in the first set the light show was minimal, yet perfectly fitting. The searchlights were flooding the room, like the flak during a bombing - the atmosphere in the brutally cooking venue was very apocalyptic. Only at the end Ratkje seemed to let go and whistled tiny melodies supported by little bells. Even if the set was a very good one would have wished that it had more of these fragile moments.
Method of Defiance’s second set was organized like the first one, Anderson’s same two spoken words passages were embedded in similar musical surroundings (the scream she invited the audience to was even more impressive than the previous one). Again the dub-reggae parts were the structural pattern of the piece, the different musical excursions developed on their basis. There was a beautiful moment when Anderson played a classical music theme on her violin, which was processed by electronics and enriched by samples, a cool trumpet and free drumming. This part reminded of Anderson’s earlier work, the instruments were able to breathe here. Unfortunately, there were weaker moments as well. Graham Haynes’ trumpet was not as well integrated as before, he obviously had sound problems. His duos with Bill Laswell were a highlight of the first set, now they were hardly present. In general the music lacked coherence here and there, at the beginning Anderson’s violin was almost drowned especially by Laswell’s booming bass and Dr. Israel’s vocals were hardly understandable again. It seemed that the piece was a conglomeration of separate musical ideas, rather being a patchwork than a successful whole. Then again, both Laswell’s typical harmonics, his glissandi and his distorted sound and Anderson’s lyrics were worth the trouble to spend the evening in the Radialsystem sauna.
Summing up the first day of this year’s festival one could say that it was the last festivals in a nutshell: a smorgasbord of human voice, electronics, live processing, improvised music, avant-garde pop elements (in this case dub reggae) and sheer volume. All in all, it was a promising start but there’s room for improvement. Today there’ll be Paal Nilssen-Love’s Large Unit Rio as the headliner. We’re looking forward to it.
The title Spots on Stripes could refer to notations on sheet
music. It might also refer to this record's mood: a cross between a
tiger and a zebra, meat-eater and herbivore, hunter and grazer, noble
beast and gentle creature of the wild. Spots on Stripes records
a meeting of very accomplished, self-assured players who listen, who
don't try to dazzle, but rather find tasteful and always lively ways to
compliment and engage each other. The tunes assembled each explore odd,
sometimes impenetrable time signatures, and the band plays
effortlessly, beautifully, searchingly in unexpected ways, feeling
loose despite the rigor.
The leader, Benoît Delbecq (piano) plays with gentle precision. John
Hébert (double bass) is indefatigable, placing each note, not too many,
just so, with integrity. Gerald Cleaver (percussion) is a subtle
master, doing everything and nothing at all in just the way his
partners need, neither time-keeper nor mere accessorizer-in-chief, he
supplies energetics, off-rhythm fills, and respite from same. These 3
have recorded together earlier Spiritual Lover (2009) and Floodstage (2014). Spiritual Lover is thoughtful, a
little spooky, patient leaning to reticent, and lovely. Floodstage, too, with some electronic synth thrown in as
color. This new one still has Delbecq playing a subtle role, but the
arrangements are somehow more mature, with Mark Turner's tenor
saxophone playing the role of outlier. It's not a sax record, though.
Turner plays simple lines, and is never really featured except maybe
where the tonality of a horn over a rhythm section grabs the ear (e.g.
on Dripping Stones) but, if you focus on the intersection of
the piano/bass/drums, then the sax in its correct place simply
ornaments their interaction. This is a rhythm section record, exploring
time and mood.
The first, eponymous track (Spots on Stripes) is lively and
spacious, the bass provides the energy. When Hébert gets assertive, the
whole thing really swings. For having no discernable time signature,
all the players are on the same page at all times. On the second track
(Broken World) (as with the first), the bassist wins the day
with his expressive solo. The third track (Rosemary K) is like
a deformed lullaby. The musical line communicates a beseeching, cloying
want, repeated until it dissolves, and then at it again. The song
deploys a time signature I can't quite manage, and the players in
unison trace the lilting expression. A strange little nothing.
Apropos of its title, the fourth track (The Loop of Chicago) opens
with piano clusters which mimic a pulsing reminiscent of the trains
overhead on Chicago's elevated tracks (down by South Wabash Street, maybe). Loop of Chicago is a bit messier and more aggressive (by design)
then the other tunes, but the tonality is never stretched beyond the
center. It remains restrained, and well within the ear's comfort zone. The
tune evokes a bustling street scene of movie-style businessmen in black and
white rushing about in their hats and coats, though it closes out with a
lonely wistfulness.
Track 5 (Disparition du Si): A sweet and patient pairing what
sounds like a buzzy thumb piano (or maybe just prepared piano or
synth) interweaves sonic plucking with the standard piano, creating a sound
fabric like knotted crochet: off-balance and made mostly of holes.
On track six (Dawn Sounds), an African-sounding bustling
foundation opens: that buzzy thumb piano, and then drums and bass register
together a lovely, joyful poly-rhythmic energyfest over which the sax
aimlessly solos. Then Delbecq on piano proper enters, knowing what he's
about. Fun listening!
Track 7 (Old Vinyl) is built around some slow-mo bass
hits - bummmmp, bahm; bummmp, bahm. High cool factor, and then the bass drops
out leaving all air and love, and then comes right back in to show us what
is missing: the ground. And then the bass starts to walk. Nice tune.
Track 8 (Springs). For the opening: Imagine an overgrown garden
hitting a sudden accelerator button. It's like that, everything sprouting
at once. Then the sax enters and our gardeners clear a path, and Turner
winds around, sometimes spinning in place, sometimes examining or else
exploring the foliage. The bass and drums get all the fun, laying down the
tricky fundamentals and then mixing it up as they like over the already
implied regularity. Again, this is very much a rhythm section record. Even
when the sax makes his 16th note runs, he can't explode out of
the intricate, binding undergrowth. They are the show.
Track 9. Dripping Stones meanders a bit. It is roughly a ballad,
though loose and without a care. Like track 5 especially, this tune, too,
creates an atmosphere with notes and space. The sax, bass and piano wander
around in there, separately, together, and then withdraw. The sax sings a
bit; the piano and bass mark out the chordal boundaries.
The closing piece, De Staël, is a deconstructed blues with some
pregnant hesitation built into the time. Of all the tunes, the sax feels
in-the-pocket on this one, despite the fact that the pocket is stitched
unevenly.
Overall, this is a very imaginative, expressive record, very easy to listen
to, very non-confrontational, but the closer your ear gets to listening how
the parts manage to work together, the more interesting it gets.
This set of improvised duos comes packaged with a title borrowed from the
Spanish Surrealist poet Vicente Aleixandre, which translates as 'swords
like lips', and one of Lopez's own abstract expressionist influenced
paintings which adorns the cover of the album. Art seems to be just one
facet of the creative expression of Lopez, as are his musical endeavours,
so it seems fitting that one of his pictures provides the visual for the
music contained within, as well as sporting the apt title of 'Two Forces'
to boot. The last time I reviewed Santiago Quintans' music was on last
year's album Sun Dome, also a duo album with saxophonist Matthieu
Donarier, where the pieces were short, concise, economic, both composed and
improvised, which didn't outstay their welcome, as I remember describing
them. Espadas Como Labios is different from this, with much freer
sounding pieces that are much more true to the searching experimental
notion of improvisation as a genre, as opposed to a technique or a set of
possibilities. This doesn't mean to say that they are all long, wandering
pieces, as the set is made up of purposeful improvisations with direction
and style that range between one-and-a-half to seven minutes in length.
Lopez's drumming is certainly not there to keep time, and as one would
expect within an improvising duo his splashes of colour and intricate
rhythms are on equal measure with the guitar. Quintans' guitar freely
produces an array of sounds from volume swells, ambiguous arpeggiated
harmonies to introspective melodies, and the subtle use of looping to
provide a further accompaniment and harmonic counterpoint to the melodic
lines.
Across the ten tracks, stand out pieces include, the title-track with it's
graceful looped ostinato, 'Ciudades Desnudas', a percussion heavy piece,
with nicely blended string rubbing and sounds beyond the fretboard, and
'Arroyo Breve', with its simple plainsong melody and organ-like voice
leading providing the contrasting material. There's also the shortest
track, 'Pasatiempo', an energetic outburst full of confidence and bravado,
and the last piece 'Olvido de lo Criado', a playful ballad that sweetens
the end of the set.
There is an air of calm over the entirety of this album, despite the
musical activity and dynamic surges in the surface material of the
individual pieces, the album seems to deliver an aura of serenity, and it
was this that struck me first when listening. The individual moments of
engagement, attack, and sounds demanding attention are also there, but this
comes later after repeated listens. This is a very enjoyable document of
Lopez and Quintans performing together, and Espadas Como Labios
would be a worthwhile addition to anyone's collection of improv recordings.
