MOVE - Hyvinkää (uniSono, 2017) ****

By Martin Schray

MOVE is an international improvising quintet consisting of Harri Sjöström (sax), Emilio Gordoa (vibraphone), Achim Kaufmann (piano, synthesizer), Adam Pultz Melbye (bass) and Dag Magnus Narvesen (drums, percussion). They’re all part of Berlin’s still prospering Echtzeit scene, a network of musicians and composers working at the interfaces of avant-garde, contemporary classical music, electronics, free jazz and improvised music. Typical for this scene, MOVE is the result of a session that took place at Dag Magnus Narvesen’s studio in 2013. Emilio Gordoa liked the sound of the group, took the initiative to organize some real concerts for them and since that went well too, he and Harri Sjöström decided to keep it active as MOVE.

Like a typical Echtzeit project, the ensemble tries to generate a sonic language which sounds electronic but which is produced by acoustic instruments - like white static produced by etheric noise, extended techniques, and silence. A good example of this approach is Emilio Gordoa’s way of playing the vibraphone: he includes all kinds of preparations, for example cans, cymbals, tambourines, tension belts etc. (it reminds me of Paul Lovens’ way of treating his drum kit). Based on this notion the band’s able to create a huge soundscape within an ample dynamic spectrum.

MOVE’s music is not 100% improvised, there are some preconceived ideas. According to Gordoa the quintet has “roads that we all know quite well and we know where these roads take us in music. This is our sound and the way of working with composed material. Nevertheless, we love to surprise the audience and ourselves, so leaving these roads is the real improvisation.“

Hyvinkää is a 40-minute recording of a live concert at the Hyvinkää Art Museum in Finland. The piece pops up like a bottle of champagne, the music spills and bubbles. However, this all happens very subtly, it’s spherical and floating at the same time. A bass drone is positioned against bell-like vibraphone sounds and piano arpeggios, while the saxophone tiptoes around them like a ballet dancer. In general, Kaufmann’s piano, Melbye’s bass, and Narvesen’s drums are very economical, they rather stress certain textures. The whole piece is the opposite of a dramatic rollercoaster ride, it displays a rather reluctant emotionality, circling around microtonal shifts, shy piano chords and myriads of percussion sounds. Only around the 25-minute mark the music gets darker, the toms and the bass are more menacing, although the sax is trying to fight them with beautiful lines.

MOVE’s music is often collectively improvised, there are hardly any solos or duos. It reminds me of a reduced, yet more expressive version of Wolfgang Fuchs’ King Übü Orchestrü, as if their music was culled from the Orchestrü’s post-minimalist approach. It’s delicate, stripped-down and introspective with lots of fragile short noise intersperses. Very recommendable.

Hyvinkää is available as a CD. You can buy it here.

Watch the band here:

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Chamber 4 – City of Light (Clean Feed, 2017) ****½

By Tom Burris

It is nearly impossible to listen to Chamber 4 and take notes at the same time.  I get drawn in so easily and completely that I simply lose the ability to keep the one-foot-in-reality it requires to notate what is happening.  There are worse things than losing the details of a great listening experience while retaining the overall impressions.  And when it comes to Chamber 4, the overall experience is kinda the whole point.  I don’t even want to go back and dissect the parts that make up the whole of the music and figure out what makes it work.  Sure, some of that is laziness – but most of it is I wanna believe in magic and what’s wrong with that?!?

As this blog’s founder says of the group in the liner notes, “they move as one.”  Individually, I’m aware that the sounds of the Ceccaldi brothers (Theo, violin & Valentin, cello) as they lure me into their velvet lair; but once they’ve caught me all of the details are gone.  This happens again as I’m going back for another attempt, sure that I’ll remain fully aware of any and all details and failing miserably.  (I said I want to believe in magic; I didn’t say I actually did.)  Luis Vicente’s melodic buzzing and busy trumpet calls stand out periodically, but only as a reminder that I’ve been missing out on what he’s been doing in the background before I noticed his horn.  The guitar work of Marcelo Dos Reis, while always a marvel, is made even more so by his ability to blend into the mechanics of the band.  And I can even share a detail here as well: Marcelo isn’t afraid to turn the guitar into a one-man rhythm section.

A real standout characteristic of the band is that they show absolutely no avoidance of conventional beauty.  And why is conventional beauty so frequently side-stepped in free music?  If this wasn’t so roundly excluded, would improvisational music be more attractive to the uninitiated?  Would my wife like Chamber 4 better than Ballister?  City of Light is a work that is in constant motion, breaking apart and reforming in new and surprising patterns, folding in and over on itself.  It’s incredible how easy it is to listen to this music move in waves and patterns that exude a type of beauty that starts in the conventional, ties into the unconventional, and magnifies it to the point of obviousness.



See also Rick Joines' review here.

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Marcelo dos Reis & Eve Risser - Timeless (JACC Records, 2017) ****

By Eyal Hareuveni

The first meeting of French pianist Eve Risser and Portuguese guitarist Marcelo dos Reis is a journey with and within strings, many and strange kind of strings (borrowing the title of Sun Ra's seminal album). Both Risser and Reis employ unconventional strategies that extend the sonic palette of the piano keys and its metal strings and the acoustic guitar's nylon strings, preparing their instruments by attaching various objects to their strings.

Risser and dos Reis already established themselves as improvisers who like to experiment with sounds, textures and formats. Risser who also plays the harpsichord, blurred the distinctions between new music, composition and improvisation with her White Desert Orchestra and explored song formats with the free-improvising The New Songs quartet. Dos Reis has collaborated with like-minded experimental improvisers such as Elliot Sharp, Toshimaru Nakamura and Andrea Neumann, plays in a duo with harpist Angélica V. Salvi and in the free jazz meets free-improvisation groups Fail Better!, Chamber 4, and Pedra Contida.

Timeless was recorded at Jazz ao Centro Festival, Coimbra, Portugal in October 2016. The seven pieces are titled after different artifacts, devices and seasons that measure time, but these free-associative improvisations actually consciously do not surrender easily to any sense of time. Risser and dos Reis flow with the sounds and explore their infinite spectrum. Both focus on shaping and sculpting their resonance and friction qualities until you are lost in sonic turbulence and can not tell any more who does what. Risser and dos Reis at times sound as incorporating ideas from the minimalist compositions of Morton Feldman, blended with Japanese ritual koto traditions as on the enigmatic-exotic “Hourglass” and “Balance Spring”. Other pieces stress the resourcefulness of both as highly imaginative improvisers. “Water Clock” shifts instantly from a leisured, mysterious soundscape to an urgent and intense free-improvisation and “Timewheel” offers an even denser and tougher version of such free-improvisation. “Chronometer” is the only piece that suggests a melodic-playful vein and the dense commotion of “Pendulum” even hides a lyrical theme.

Timeless offers a rare kind of beauty.

And More...

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Pedra Contida - Amethyst (FMR, 2017) ****½

By Lee Rice Epstein

About 7 minutes into “Scree,” the opening track on Pedra Contida’s sophomore album, Amethyst, the slowly building tension threatens to break. Like watching a storm build along the shore, there’s a steady accumulation of pulses, from Angélica V. Salvi’s harp and Marcelo dos Reis’s guitar, to Miguel Carvalhais’s computer and Nuno Torres’s bright alto, and finally to João Pais Filipe’s masterful metallic percussion (set aside some time to scroll through Filipe’s Tumblr, featuring his handmade gongs and cymbals). And then, it’s over. A moment later, “Chalk” kicks off with a brief trio improvisation, with Torres, Carvalhais, and Filipe. But, where were we? Where are we? The mystery prevails, underlining the dynamism in this quintet’s free improvisation. By the mid-point of “Chalk,” Salvi and dos Reis have locked into an asynchronous rhythm that, again, threatens to break open. Dos Reis cranks up his electric for a few effective teases, then quietly recedes back into the rhythmic undercurrent.

The quintet members’ paths have criss-crossed in a number of configurations, including dos Reis and Filipe in Fail Better!, the dos Reis and Salvi duo, and Filipe and Salvi’s recent spot’s on the latest @c album, Three-Body Problem. Like Pedra Contida’s previous album, Xisto, Amethyst was recorded live, this time in Coimbra on November 21, 2015. The Paris and Mali attacks were at the forefront of the news, with Brazil still reeling from a devastating flood resulting from a burst dam. And in Portugal, an election season marked by the rise of the left-wing was well underway. I mention all this just to point out that it was definitely not a time for quiet reflection. The global mood was tense and uncertain, and the quintet’s response is apt. I think a lot about the ways improvisation, especially, is an inherently reactive medium, a mode of performance that allows each player to channel her or his feelings about the world, whether that’s meditating on losing a loved one or making a bold statement for justice. In this way, Amethyst captures five gifted players in an extended conversation that intertwines optimism and uncertainty. Torres’s solo in “Obsidian” traces lines between dos Reis and Salvi, while Filipe and Carvalhais keep the rhythmic structure in a state of unsteadiness. It’s absolutely captivating.

The album ends with “Touchstone,” a deceptively somber piece that really highlights Carvalhais. Unlike most of the other tracks, there’s no obvious center. Instead, the band gently ripples outward, with dos Reis providing ballast near the 4-minute mark in a nice duo with Carvalhais. It’s the rare quintet that manages such a radical lineup with such a strong senses of freedom and balance, but Pedra Contida has definitely cracked the code.

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Marcelo dos Reis - Cascas (Cipsela, 2017) ****

By Lee Rice Epstein

For writing, there’s a maxim that events should be “surprising yet inevitable,” and that can, at times, be applied to music, as well. I’ve probably used this phrase in past reviews, yet here it is again, only this time I’m thinking of the whole release itself. Of course, at some point we would get a solo album from guitarist Marcelo dos Reis, and yet its sudden appearance this summer was the most delightful surprise. Cascas is dos Reis’s fifth album this year, marking the last release of an insanely prolific 2017. Recorded in June of this year, it’s a gorgeous performance. The recording is relaxed and intimate, while dos Reis’s playing remains bold and expansive.

If you follow me on Twitter, you may have seen me occasionally talk about my sons’ reactions to different music. It’s a way of sharing the experience of watching people with relatively unformed tastes and opinions react to, especially, free improvisation. They’ve been exposed to the sounds since birth but only recently reached ages where they can both express their sincere opinions about what we’re listening to. My 8-year-old son has grown into a real fan of guitar, sitting rapt at the stereo as Han-earl Park’s Sirene plays. And earlier this year, he was equally captivated by dos Reis’s STAUB Quartet. But even I was surprised by his immediate connection to “Sónica,” the opening track on Cascas. At the opening minute of sustained strumming, he shot across the room, wide-eyed, “What is this? It’s so cool!” And, it really is. Dos Reis has one of the most compelling approaches to guitar, and in this exposed solo setting, you can soak in the tone and technique.

“Sónica” leads into the opening of “Molusco,” where sustained notes contrast with delicately fingered motifs. On several of the tracks, dos Reis’s more experimental techniques are used to good effect, creating multiphonic soundscapes that give the whole album a nice emotional depth. “Crina” features dos Reis on bow, which creates a dissonant and surprisingly suspenseful melody. For “Bostik Azul” and “Minerva,” the plainly described instrumentation of “prepared and unprepared nylon string guitar” is explored through a fast-paced improvisation.

The finale is a pair of dedications, “Ceifa (to Alzira Francisca)” and “Corvo (to Manuel Francisco).” If my Google translation of Portuguese is correct, these titles translate to “Reaping” and “Crow,” apt descriptions of each track’s mood. Perhaps it’s the dedications, but these feel slightly more direct than the previous improvisations, conveying meaning across the sounds and spaces between them. Both end on a variation of ringing, notes echoing slightly as if the songs themselves remain still only partially finished. Even as it comes to a close, Cascas remains alive with possibility.

Cascas' Liner Notes

By Dan Sorrells

“Freedom is what you do with what has been done to you,” said Sartre, maybe. I have never been able to find the source. But it’s an intriguing way to think about the work of improvising musicians—always free to jettison the “rules,” but only free within the boundaries of the occasion: an artist, in a moment, in a place. Even playing alone, a musician brushes against “what has been done” to them. Freedom is often spoken of as an end in itself; really, it’s just a gateway. Freedom allows you to choose your means, but it cannot be the reason for making music.

Marcelo’s music brings all this to mind, because he has consistently approached it in a way that isn’t defined by opposition. His is not freedom from rules or tradition or genre. It’s freedom to make the musical choice the moment demands, unburdened. Here, it’s freedom to sit, alone with a guitar, and gather his ideas. A few he has tried before, reworking and refining them over time. Some existed as a thought, a concept now being realized. Others were born spontaneously in the moment his fingers set to the guitar strings. Each track explores a method, a motif, a mood. Each opens a space for something to happen, creates an interval in which something new enters the world.

A while back, Marcelo and I were talking about ma. An everyday word in Japanese, but also an aesthetic awareness of these spaces, these intervals. The idea that nothing is foundational to something. Ma is the gap we experience between things that allows them to exist, that outlines their contours and supplies their meaning. In solo music, you are responsible not only for the "things" but also the space that defines them. The music here is a personal undertaking, and solo performance is always an act of vulnerability. It is an invitation into a private space. The experience of the music is deeply singular for the musician and deeply singular for the listener, but in different ways. Another gap. But, as you listen to these songs, that small gap is all that lies between your heart and mind and Marcelo’s.

- Dan Sorrells, July 2017.

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Just Songs - An Interview with Marcelo dos Reis

Marcelo dos Reis by Nuno Martins

By Antonio Poscic

Coimbra-based guitarist and improviser Marcelo dos Reis first caught our eyes and ears in 2015 when two of his records, Chamber 4 (with Luis Vicente, Theo Ceccaldi, and Valentin Ceccaldi) and Concentric Rinds (with Angélica V. Salvi), topped our annual list of best releases. Two years later, he has become one of the loudest and brightest voices of an explosive and dynamic Portuguese free improv and free jazz scene, producing album after album in tireless fashion, without sign of artistic wear. Whether on acoustic or electric guitar, as a sideman or a leader, his style is unequivocal, shaping Fail Better!, Chamber 4, Pedra Contida, In Layers, Open Field, STAUB Quartet, and others into unique, most excellent projects.

To mark the release of his five new records, we’ll be dedicating this week to his work. And what better way to start things off than with an interview?

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If circumstances were better, this would be the point at which I’d describe the wonderful atmosphere at the Piano Negro club in Coimbra, Marcelo and myself sitting opposite to each other, enjoying some fancy imported beers. Instead, because of the distance, conflicting schedules, and the frantic rhythm of modern life, we’re forced to correspond via email. Similar to his music, it’s obvious that dos Reis prefers direct and spontaneous communication, but he easily adapts to the format. His responses flow passionately and earnestly, defying the black on white sparseness of text.

We start by going back, to his roots and inspirations.

What made Marcelo dos Reis the musician he is today?

I started to develop a big interest in music when I was 6 or 7 years old, but my family was not connected with music at all and at that time music education wasn’t included in the primary school. So things in the beginning were a little bit difficult when I was starting to develop my musical capabilities, and also because things started a little bit in the opposite way. For example, I remember that my cousin that was my age had a guitar on the wall, and I used to ask his parents and grandmother if I could play it and their answer was always “no,” so I used to pretend to sing and play a tennis racket, imagining a big crowd—basically what kids dream. Then I started to listen to a lot of music, recording everything I liked on cassette tapes, and soon I started to buy records and believe me, I was like 9 or 10 years old and my parents used to give me some money for me to learn how to manage it, but I was spending it all on records! It took a while until I really started playing, because amongst my friends playing football was what was cool.

Can you think of any defining moments that pushed you from someone who liked music passively into someone who thinks about music creatively and propulsively—a musician?

When I moved to the Lisbon suburbs I finally found my tribe, friends that were much more into sharing records between ourselves, talking about music and playing the first notes, studying in local music schools. When I was almost 15 years old I started my first rock band, and after one year we were already playing live all around Portugal. It was so funny because none of us had a driver’s license, so we were always searching for someone to drive us. I was talking recently with two good friends, Miguel Condeço and Bruno Soares, about that period and I feel we were very lucky we had it that way, because it was so important and inspiring for our development as human beings.

Obviously and expectedly, a connected and nurturing environment inspires creativity in the long-term, regardless of any obstacles. But what was it that propelled you towards free improvisation specifically? Why not some other, more popular genre? I’m sure that most kids want to be rock stars, not contemplative improvisers.

My first musical experiences were rock music, but I always found great pleasure when I was listening to the improvisation and psychedelic parts of the rock bands. I used to have a great naïve pleasure when I was improvising at that time, especially after smoking something, and that led me to learn more about improvisation. I was listening more and more to jazz since I was working in record shops, so I started studying jazz in Lisbon at the same time I was studying voice at the Conservatory. I think the first thing that made me interested in free improvisation was Art Ensemble of Chicago. Their music wasn’t part of the jazz school program, but the studying process at the school was really important for me to understand how theory works and how to use it, and that is still part of my everyday study.

Besides the Art Ensemble of Chicago, were there any other musicians that influenced you early on? I’m guessing that the Jazz ao Centro Clube (or JACC) also had a role in directing you as a musician.

I started to listen to the later work of Coltrane, which led me to Eric Dolphy, Andrew Hill, Ornette Coleman, Don Cherry, and Bill Dixon among others. I felt they were playing much more outside of the harmonic structures and that was really different from what I was studying, and that was the way of improvising I wanted. Later, I moved to Coimbra and I got involved with JACC and started to meet a lot of musicians from all around the globe. I thought: that's it, this is what I want to do. I feel nowadays we’re very fortunate with all the diversity that exists in the arts and happily we’re able to question it and choose.

Speaking of JACC and the scene(s) in Lisbon and Coimbra, are they at all supported by the local or state government or are you all self-financed and self-organized?

It’s surprising the considerable number of improvisers we have not just in Lisbon, but all around Portugal when you think about the size of our country. Some are really good in my opinion, but the reality is that we have some problems. Since it’s a small country, there aren’t many places to play with proper financial conditions, so you have to be rich or you need to have another job. In my case, I teach music because support for individual artists doesn’t really exist. There is some support, but the government insists on giving the money to bigger associations and corporations, which creates a lot of ignorance amongst the crowd in general, as people only listen to and buy what the media is giving them.

In that sense, did the internet help or hinder the scene? Do you think it perhaps helped you get more exposure?

Since the internet has played a bigger role in opinion-making, I feel like people’s tastes are much more influenced by the mass media nowadays. I think it’s very important to have our “filters” turned on and to have a personal opinion about what is good and what’s not good. There are so many good artists all around, and our efforts as independent artists and small labels and small venues are pushing things forward, but all these small things also make me think about music programmers that keep insisting on programing the same musicians every year in the festivals (here I’m talking about the improvisation and free jazz events). I really love a lot of those musicians, but come on, the programmers have an important role in presenting new things for the listeners, and since there’s such a large number of incredible improvisers around the globe, I feel it’s like a social responsibility to show new things to the audience. But to develop all these questions properly, we would need at least another interview devoted just to this topic!

Marcelo dos Reis by Nuno Martins

But enough about finances and media, let’s talk about dos Reis’ interesting collaborations.

You’ve mostly been working with Portuguese musicians, but one of your new releases is a delightful duo with Eve Risser. What led to that encounter? Do you feel that your collaboration with local artists differs in any way from when you work with internationally acclaimed musicians?

Since I started to get involved with the improvised music scene, I’ve been very fortunate to share experiences with musicians from all around the world. The collaboration with Eve happened after Jazz ao Centro Festival in Coimbra asked me to invite a musician to do a concert and to record an album, so I invited her because I identify with her musical approach. After that, we’re very happy with our album and friendship, and hopefully we can play more together—we’ll see what the future will bring us.

Do you have plans for other, similar collaborations?

As I said, I’m constantly collaborating with musicians from everywhere, but in the end that doesn’t really matter because I don’t care at all about nationality, ethnicity, or genre. It’s all about the music, friendship, and human connection. For example, I’ve been having so much fun working with my brother Luís Vicente. We started working together almost 10 years ago, and since then we’ve done tours, we’ve already done five records together, and we still have a lot of things planned for the near future. I believe those things are happening because of mutual respect, friendship, and a sense of space between two persons. This question made me think that we should keep fighting against racism, homophobia, and gender inequality. In the end what makes me really sad is why these things are still a reality in the 21^st century. Hopefully we will witness a world without all this ignorance.

Marcelo dos Reis by Nuno Martins

With those thoughtful reflections in mind, we move on to a somewhat different topic: dos Reis’ playing style, motivation, and artistic generative processes.

Can you explain the frame of mind and motivation that drives you while playing, whether solo or with others? While listening to your music, I always have a feeling that you adapt your style depending on the setting and musicians around you.

I really like the idea of how I can work my “speech” and "sound palette” into the diverse situations I’m in, because I feel that improvisation will sound different every time you play. I think each human being is unique, but I guess it’s also impossible not to repeat yourself, so it’s always challenging trying not to get tired of listening to yourself. That happens very often with me because it’s definitely not a lightning bolt that comes from the gods and you play, no, it requires a lot of work and dedication. That’s why I try to adapt differently in my different projects: it can be changing from the acoustic to the electric guitar, or the use of the prepared or the unprepared guitar. You try to modulate your material in the interaction with others in a way that gives a unique energy and personality to the music, because it’s all about that moment in that place. So maybe that’s why you’re saying I vary my style, because I think each project I’m involved in needs different things so that it will be a different project. Otherwise, I would be always playing with the same band.

Is that also a way for you to keep things fresh? The constant changes?

Maybe this is what keeps things interesting for me. I preserve the same projects, but take breaks from them, and then after a while everyone returns with different ideas because you learn and develop your way of thinking about the music.

Do you keep track of the recent output of other jazz/improv musicians? Or do you look for inspiration in other genres?

In my case, I listen to so many different things, but specifically I don’t listen to much guitar in improvisation. I prefer to listen more to rock, folk, and ethnic styles than free improvisation, but I try to follow as much as I can of what’s happening in free improvisation. But definitely I want to get more inspiration from artists of other art forms, traveling, friends, family, my dog, and to try to avoid my brain thinking about all the shit in the world that makes me very sad.

Marcelo dos Reis by Nuno Martins

Our conversation turns to Marcelo dos Reis the label co-owner.

Cipsela Records is a remarkable young label. While its catalogue might not be the largest with seven releases, it is of the highest quality. How did you envision it?

At first it was an idea José Miguel Pereira and I had to become more independent to release our own work, but since we were organizing the Double Bill concert series and got involved with a huge number of improvisers, the first idea changed and fortunately got much bigger than ourselves.

And where does Joe McPhee’s record Flowers fit in the story?

So in 2009 during the Jazz ao Centro Festival, I worked with Joe McPhee to record his solo performance since it wasn’t supposed to be done, and that was done already with the idea of creating the label. It took six more years until it materialized, and from then lot of things happened and we created our identity, releasing just a few records to give them the deserved attention. We did limited editions of 300 copies, and each release had a very specific image created by Kátia Sá, all with a huge focus on the physicality of the object, since we can’t conceive of the idea of just digital releases. We offer the digital version to our customers after they buy the physical copy.

Can you elaborate on the digital vs. physical conundrum?

We understand the advantages of digital and we use tools from modern technology, but can you imagine a musician or a record label selling a pen after a concert instead of a CD or vinyl?! I think it’s so important to feel the full art and understand the atmosphere and time in which the music was created. I really think people and the industry shouldn’t separate these things, but that’s just our position.

Finally, we briefly touch upon the five excellent records that dos Reis played on and released this year (with STAUB Quartet, Chamber 4, Pedra Contida, in duo with Eve Risser, and solo).

This has been a very productive year for you.

It’s true, I feel very lucky to be involved in a considerable number of things and projects. I’ve been thinking lately about my working process and my development since I started playing, and I think I’m a little bit of a workaholic. But that’s because I really love music. This year I released five records, and I remember when I was 14 or 15 years old that my main goal was to have a record and to play outside of my country. Since then, these things are happening and those objectives have all been surpassed! New challenges are always arising and that makes everything alive.

Do you have any favorites among your recent albums? One of them is also your first solo record, how different was that experience?

I think I really like the ones where I’m playing in group, because I feel all this connection and chemistry in the playing between me and my colleagues. My solo record is a different story, because I think it could have been very different. When I started doing it, I had a very specific idea of how everything would work, but when I finished, I felt most of the material was much more interesting to present live than in a studio setting, so I found myself in a changing process. I think I felt it in a very positive way, because it can be a real turning point in the way you normally feel yourself playing, and that makes you evolve and forget some barriers and show more of yourself. But in the end, I’m so happy that I’m an independent artist. I have all the time in the world to develop my work the way I want, in the path I always dreamed of. So, I’m enjoying songs right now. Maybe the next step will be just songs.

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John Zorn - There Is No More Firmament (Tzadik, 2017) ****

By Connor Kurtz

Starting an album with fanfare is one of the most questionable decisions an artist can make when it comes to making an album. It's overdone, it's dated, it's cheesy, and it's exactly how John Zorn opens his new collection of compositions, There Is No More Firmament. In 'Antiphonal Fanfare for the Great Hall', a single trumpet introduces us with the fanfare we expect and feared. My eyes begin to roll to the back of my head. Soon enough another trumpet joins, followed by four more, and they all play together for almost no time at all before they fall out of sync into a giant atonal mess of horns competing for prominence. Once they completely fall apart, they find life in a minimalist motif which seems to call back to the fanfare which opened the piece. What was old and banal has become new and exciting; this is a major theme throughout all eight of the compositions presented on There Is No More Firmament. Zorn takes apart what was formally beautiful and new, but now lousy and kitsch, and rebuilds it into the music of Zorn which we've come to love.

Towards the end of 'Antiphonal Fanfare', the motif shrinks into little more than a series of layered drones, only to spontaneously fall back into the atonal pit which we felt we had left for good minutes ago. This is another one of the album's major themes: the roles of beauty and chaos in music, and perhaps in life as well. I believe that Zorn wants to remind us that from chaos can come beauty, and that the opposite is true as well. An even greater example of this is in the string trio Freud, the album's most recent composition. Unlike 'Antiphonal Fanfare', 'Freud' kicks right into the fastest paced string madness one could imagine. The first 30 seconds are absolutely suffocating. There are fragments of beauty and chaos scattered through the piece, and extended techniques are used liberally, but what is most surprising is a brief passage about 7 minutes in where a sole cello plucks a petit, but gorgeous, melody on his instrument. It comes out of nowhere and it never returns, but this moment is truly lovely, and the madness which surrounds it perfectly juxtaposes it.

Even with the score in front of me, I struggle to believe that the solo trumpet piece 'Merlin' was actually composed and isn't an improvisation. Two separate versions of 'Merlin' appear on Firmament: the first performed by Peter Evans on a B♭­ jazz trumpet, and the second by Marco Blaauw on his specially built double-bell trumpet in C. The piece is a complex web of extended techniques, half-improvisations and rapid-fire notes, all thrown into a blender. The two performances together shine a light on how the piece operates, as they can be juxtaposed to find what ideas are forced by the composition and which come from the performers. The disappointment here is finding that it's almost all in the composition, so the second performance serves little more use than that of a platform to compare the technique of the two performers (Evans is much more guttural and, in my opinion, more exciting). Still, I can't help but feel that this album may have been better off with one less 'Merlin'; which brings me to this album's biggest flaw: very little thought seems to have gone into the track-list and how it will work as an album. This flaw becomes even more obvious in the next track.

After 20 minutes of ruthless atonal compositions, we arrive at 'Divagations': a jazz trio in two movements. From reading the booklet, it seems that Zorn's intention was to introduce a classical pianist, Stephen Gosling, to a jazz rhythm section, Christian McBride and Tyshawn Sorey, to result in "a true blending of classical and jazz." I think that that is a wonderful idea, but it's simply not what we get in 'Divagations' at all -- instead we're treated to a jazz trio with a particularly wild pianist, ringing closer to Cecil Taylor than any classical composer of pianist. Now, I actually adore 'Divagations' -- I think it's one of the best pieces in this set. It kicks off with a hard-hitting bop groove with an invigorating swing that makes me want to dance, but it isn't long before a cacophonous explosion which isn't far from what we heard in Antiphonal Fanfare. A difference between the two, however, is that 'Divagations' moves quickly; so, when it dives into chaos, it's quick to regain its footing. Sadly, this great piece is slightly soured by its poor placement -- for the rest of the album I find myself asking, "hey, whatever happened to that jazz track?"

The clarinet solo 'The Steppenwolf' (named after the novel by Herman Hesse, and not the band which played 'Born to Be Wild' which, very unrelated, was the main song we practiced in my middle school jazz band), performed by Joshua Rubin, comes with the following subtitle: 'For Madmen Only--Price of Admission: Your Mind.' This subtitle will not prepare you for this piece. I don't say that because this piece is completely insane, but because it is completely beautiful. The piece is slowly, or should I say meticulously paced, and focuses on gradual scales and subtly appearing and dissolving themes. This piece particularly showcases the virtuosity of Joshua Rubin, who gives a performance which is both spell-binding and inspiring. He has a way of pacing where he accelerates or decelerates wherever he finds it best, and that result in a piece which sounds natural and nuanced. I'm not sure why the subtitle was given to this piece, but 'The Steppenwolf' is a pleasure to listen to.

'In Excelsis' is, surprisingly, another fanfare. This one kicks off with some hefty low-end dissonance, which gives way to some very traditional fanfare. Even Zorn addresses that this sounds fairly traditional, "on the surface" he says, but there are some references to more contemporary music hidden inside. First of all, there are some rather challenging polymeters present in the composition (3/4, 5/4 and 7/4 simultaneously, as Zorn states in the liner notes) which the listener may not pick up on in first listen. There are also some rather odd harmonies, giving off a slight "out of place" feeling. It is true that the piece has little to give to avant-garde art lovers or new music fans, but it is only a couple of minutes and it's undeniably joyful, so I'll allow it.

Finally, we have the album's longest cut, title track and most serious composition, 'Il n'y a Plus de Firmament' for wind quintet, which is performed by the Talea Ensemble. The piece was influenced by Zorn researching wind quintet music, and failing to find an "intense piece that really kicks ASS" (wait, didn't I call this piece serious?) Besides the ass-kicking thing, this piece's primary musical influence is Edgard Varèse. The piece creates a scenario which allows for Varèse's usually brand of mania to find its way into a new setting, a setting which uses an ensemble using wind instruments with over 200 years of history. The piece drifts along moods, many of which are manic either in their enthusiasm or depression, and often allows the deeper instruments to provide guidance. This piece is new and exciting, but also indebted and knowledgeable of both the avant-garde and traditional music which proceeds it. That is something that contemporary music could use more of, in my opinion.

All in all, There Is No More Firmament is an excellent collection of compositions performed by consistently excellent performers, hand-picked by the composer. My biggest gripe is the way the album is presented: Do we really need two fanfares? Why is there a jazz trio in the middle of this? Are the two interpretations of 'Merlin' distinct enough to both be featured here? For fans of Zorn, I strongly recommend this one. It is stronger than the majority of his classical collections, such as last year's Commedia Dell'arte. But for me, I doubt I'll ever listen to this album as a whole again --instead, opting to take the pieces in on their own when I like.

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Jeb Bishop, Matthias Müller, Matthias Muche - Konzert für Hannes (NotTwo, 2017) ****

By Martin Schray

Johannes Bauer’s untimely death last year probably was the most tragic loss for Germany’s improvising scene since Peter Kowald died in 2002, as both were at the height of their creativity when they passed away. Bauer had been diagnosed with cancer about two years before he died, but he didn’t stop making plans for the different ensembles he played with, including Grid Mesh (with Andreas Willers, Frank Paul Schubert and Willi Kellers) and the Tradition Trio (with Alan Silva and Roger Turner), for example. And he also wanted to be part in a trombone quartet with Jeb Bishop, Matthias Müller and Matthias Muche. Muche and Bishop had played together in the Spinifex Maximus project, Müller and Bishop had met in Berlin before. Johannes Bauer and Jeb Bishop knew each other from Peter Brötzmann’s Chicago Tentet and they also had a duo called JB2. Muche and Müller had a similar one: MM2 Session. So it was an obvious idea to bring the two duos together and they organized a gig at the Stadtgarten in Cologne.

According to the liner notes the other band members already knew that Bauer’s health was declining, but nonetheless they were positive that they could make the concert happen. Unfortunately, Bauer had to inform them that he wouldn’t be able to join them, so Bishop, Müller and Muche decided to play as a trio. As it turned out, the date of the show was the day of Johannes Bauer’s death and consequently the trio dedicated the concert to the man, his legacy and his music.

Those who are familiar with Johannes Bauer’s music know that his style was deeply rooted in the jazz tradition, he was always swinging. Moreover, he enriched this playing with extended techniques like breathing and gargling sounds. On Konzert für Hannes (Concert for Hannes), Bishop, Müller and Muche distribute this approach on three shoulders, they try to integrate these typical Bauer elements in their improvisations, and with passages like the choral-like ending of the first track they even refer to some of the legendary bands Bauer was part of, like the Manfred Schulze Bläserquintett. In “2“ free jazz lines are contrasted by short, sharp notes, circular breathing meets suppressed, hectic stuttering. Then, in “4“, the trio opens with one trombone playing a melodic line, one delivering a pulse and the third one contributing hissing sounds before they turn to a more conventional, almost spiritual passage just to end the piece with a very abstract part. This is one of the qualities of this album: The pieces always surprise the listener, they evolve in a certain direction just to end somewhere completely different - something Bauer would have liked.

Konzert für Hannes is a great tribute to one of European improv’s greatest trombonists, played by three excellent musicians. A worthy reverence.

Konzert für Hannes is available as a CD.

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Vijay Iyer Sextet – Far From Over (ECM, 2017) *****

By Troy Dostert

Although pianist Vijay Iyer worked extensively with horn players—especially saxophonists—during his first decade as a bandleader, in recent years he’s chosen other kinds of projects as a showcase for his compositions.  His regular trio (with bassist Stephan Crump and Marcus Gilmore) has been his most frequent option, with some terrific records that have worked to solidify his reputation as one of the leading pianists on the current scene: Historicity, Accelerando, and most recently, 2015’s Break Stuff.  But his one-off projects have been just as effective, such as his piano-meets-string quartet suite Mutations or last year’s gorgeous duet recording with Wadada Leo Smith, A Cosmic Rhythm With Each Stroke.  Even so, fans of Iyer’s early records may have been occasionally justified in missing the raw, visceral energy that characterized Iyer’s music with saxophonists like Rudresh Mahanthappa or Steve Lehman.  And after all, Iyer first started to establish himself in the 1990s by working with Steve Coleman, so that love of a groove aided and abetted by strong brass players is a central part of his musical DNA.  After almost ten years without a recording featuring a saxophonist (2008’s Tragicomic, with Mahanthappa), the question emerged: What could Iyer do if given a larger ensemble as a canvas on which to paint his complex, edgy and mesmerizing compositions?

Here’s the answer. 

Iyer’s sextet on Far From Over, with a superlative trio of horn players (Steve Lehman on alto sax, Mark Shim on tenor sax, and Graham Haynes on cornet, flugelhorn and occasional electronics), is precisely the resource Iyer needed to bring into being some of his most infectious, inspired music in recent memory.  Once again joined by bassist Crump, and frequent past partner Tyshawn Sorey behind the drum kit, this is a band capable of covering a wide-ranging emotional spectrum in realizing Iyer’s vision.  From intimacy to aggression, and moody introspection to dynamic exultation, this is a remarkable recording, one that will take Iyer’s already formidable legacy to another level altogether.

Unlike many of Iyer’s previous albums, there are no covers here.  Iyer clearly has a lot to say, and these ambitious compositions give his colleagues plenty to do in keeping up with his rhythmic and melodic intricacies.  The first two cuts alone, “Poles” and “Far From Over” are striking in their mix of power and nuance.  Catchy rhythms get the head bobbing right away—Iyer’s ostinatos, Sorey’s whip-smart drumwork and Lehman’s brawny solo on “Poles” provide a burning intensity that launches the record convincingly—but upon repeated listening one is more likely to explore the subtler aspects that reveal Iyer’s craftsmanship as a composer.  Listen to the way the horns carve out the polyrhythmic foundation of “Far From Over,” with overlapping threads weaving in and out, while Iyer, Sorey and Crump develop their own rhythmic exposition that somehow, amazingly, stays in sync with the horns.  The band has an uncanny ability to make music that is both accessible and, at the same time, exhilaratingly complex and rich.  It requires multiple encounters in order to take it all in, but it’s hardly a chore to undertake that task because the music is so enjoyable and riveting.

“Down to the Wire” is another excellent example of the band’s artistry: what starts out as a fairly straightforward piano burner with just Crump and Sorey in dialogue with Iyer takes a turn halfway through when the horns jump into the mix.  Shim’s impassioned tenor solo ratchets up the intensity another notch, and then Lehman and Haynes join him, both through syncopated bursts as well as unbelievably difficult ensemble parts.  Sorey is central here, as he is throughout the album.  For someone whose restraint on his own records has now become legendary, he sure likes to turn it loose when he’s on other people’s projects; his tenacious solo on “Down to the Wire” is superb, and his playing on many of the cuts is thunderous.  His steady pummeling of the toms on “Good on the Ground” anchors the momentum of one of the record’s most gripping and bustling tracks, with the horns locked in perfect rapport with Iyer’s own steely delivery.

In addition to its many other virtues, the album is paced well also.  The driving fervor of the music’s more tempestuous tracks requires an occasional pause so listeners can catch their breath, and this is where Haynes’s subtle electronics (not to mention Iyer’s Fender Rhodes) work to invoke the spirit of ‘70s Miles, both on the brief “End of the Tunnel” and “Wake.”  They offer just enough atmosphere and mystery to still the mood, before the group once again brings things to a boil.  “For Amiri Baraka” is a poignant tribute piece, significantly the only cut featuring just Iyer, Crump and Sorey, and its melancholic spirit is another counterweight to the more boisterous music on the record.  Finally, “Threnody” concludes the album by traversing its entire emotional terrain, with Iyer’s somber ruminations preceding another powerful solo from Lehman, who ranges from introspective to incendiary to end an astonishing hour of music with a flourish.

Iyer remarks in his liner notes that the album’s title is meant to suggest the significance of the ongoing global struggle for justice, rights and equality.  Without taking anything away from the importance of that message, one can also see as it as a statement of the enduring vitality of Iyer’s music and his work with this band, which is hopefully just getting started.  It’s an exceptional release, one befitting Iyer’s status as one of our finest pianists and composers.

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Kyle Bruckmann’s Degradient - Dear Everyone (Not Two, 2017) ****

By Paul Acquaro

A little while back, I wrote about a recording by the East Coast pianist and poet Eliot Cardinaux, whose surreal poetry mixed intriguingly with his adventurous music. Well, here is a West Coast response - Kyle Bruckmann’s Degradient Dear Everyone. Prose is spliced into and throughout composer, educator and woodwindist Bruckmann's wide ranging music. The result is sometimes jarring, sometimes provocative, and always interesting.

Bruckmann seems to have also drawn some inspiration from West Coast peer bassist Liza Mezzacappa who employed a similar mix of non musical inspiration on AvantNoir, splicing in the idiosyncratic sound and language of hard boiled detective fiction. For Bruckmann, the inspiration was Matt Shears 2015 book of surreal prose Dear Everyone. Bruckmann, inspired by the book, went about for a bit collecting the voices of people reading from the text. Here is an excerpt:

some filmic aggressions. Vengeance is
well played! Good Shepherd: come again?
again on welfare? I lost all feeling
in the extremities, the hardware. The engines
scrambled away. I crowd-sourced
destitute constructions, federal theater.gametes, zygotes, genomes, DNA.

On the album, Bruckmann typically keeps the music and words separate, allowing the listener to enjoy the effects of their juxtaposition as well as savor the words themselves. There are places where the two mix, such as on 'Poetry is Not Political', but it seems in these cases the text become textural, sounds in the music takes precedence, or a light motif underscores the words like on 'Overt, Sure'. The total number of readers reached 99, the full list can be found here.

The music is performed by a quintet of Kyle Bruckmann on oboe, English horn, and electronics; Aram Shelton on alto sax, clarinet, and bass clarinet; Jason Hoopes on electric bass, Jordan Glenn on percussion, and Weston Olencki on trombone. They oscillate between free jazz, electronic sputter, avant-rock, and a somewhat classical aesthetic.

'Truncations, Deletions' is driven by an aggressive and punchy bass line. Functioning somewhere between percussion and melody, it urges the saxes along relentlessly. 'Excisions, Autocorrections' contains a muffled voice seemingly trying to escape from the track itself, it's a messy thing, but it readies the listener for the mash up of readers in 'Predictable Epiphanies'. On this track, a sonorous solo bass clarinet solo punctuates the words before taking over, along with electronic chatter.

Disc 2 opens with 'Theresrased', in which squirts of electronic sounds mix with a gentle classical melody. It segues into 'Incursive Recursions', and a thick melody from the trombone reverberates again the guitar, and screaming electronics mix delightfully in as the song lurches along in a heavy groove. The 'Next Message' begins with a blood curdling human siren call. Mixed with vocalese and readings, the cut up game begins again in 'Significant Details' with a voice asking 'is this advertising ... '. The sound snippets start picking up speed, running one into the other, different voices begin completing or rather continuing each sentences to unexpected completion ... 'pressure in the cabin? (New voice) never (new voice) slake a baby (new voice) never (new voice) interject (new voice) cocaine (new voice) beyond the Ohio and Costco ...', you get the picture, right?

The net impact of this blend of acoustic and electronic, instrumental and textual, sprawling over the two CDs is delightfully discombobulating. It is tempting to make meaning from the snippets, as the jumble of words can be humorous, playful, and oddly precise, while the music is engaging. It's not an easy album to get into, but I doubt that is point - rather it's one that will pique your interest, tease your curiosity, and reward you on each listen.

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