I don’t own a single recording by Jacko and never cared too much about him. Still, I felt growingly and inexplicably sad following his demise and my TV set has been stuck on MTV’s two-day tribute to MJ since. These four records were played over this bleak weekend, with no particular reason, when the volume was turned down. Call it astral coincidence. The extremely uncertain weather plaguing the area in these days didn’t help in clearing the mind.
VARIOUS ARTISTS – A Cleansing Ascension
An introductory compilation on the Elevator Bath label, comprising almost completely new material by ten important names of the experimental scene (Matt Shoemaker, Adam Pacione, Jim Haynes, Keith Berry, Rick Reed, Dale Lloyd, Francisco López, James Eck Rippie, Tom Recchion and label founder Colin Andrew Sheffield). The CD comes in printed sleeves prepared with 100% recycled paper and featuring a beautiful photograph taken in 1971 by Sheffield’s dad, which I’ll leave to you to discover. The selection does possess a good variety of atmospheres, although the typology of the music presented is of course closely linked to terminologies that are likely to be used in these sonic territories, with prevalence for adjectives such as “droning”, “wavering” and “reiterative”. There are exceptions to the static norm: Reed’s “The Fiery Sound Of Light” is quite abstract and at times surprising, utilizing modified voices and stretched samples to depict a peculiar kind of transformation of the aural matter. López is his usual concrete self, ending “Untitled #194” with nothing less than shooting guns after several minutes of assorted clangours, and Rippie’s “Hidden Mirrors” is probably the most interesting track on a compositional level, mixing stillness and interference in a very clever way. Recchion’s “Drift Tube” is also typical, suggestively reminiscent of a different era as it is, and Jim Haynes’ “Like A Thief In The Night” utilizes field recordings made by him and Jgrzinich in Estonia to construct an entrancing landscape of forsakenness. More or less what we expected from everybody, yet there’s not a single episode that can be deemed as under average, and all of them are a pleasure to listen to.
COLIN ANDREW SHEFFIELD – Signatures
Speaking of Colin Sheffield, it’s been a while from when Diane and Matthew at Invisible Birds sent this CD, which – needless to say – was lying in my archive crying for attention. And it deserved it, therefore shame on the late reviewer as usual, although it is impossible to follow a steady rhythm with all the good (and bad!) stuff that flows in the mailbox. Signatures was composed on a portable 64-track digital recorder, a turntable and an old sampler. No computer in sight. The four tracks (five in the limited edition) were created by the exploitation of commercially available recordings, stretched, elongated, filtered and camouflaged until their features became completely unrecognizable. A beautiful record indeed, containing music which one could remotely associate to artists like Janek Schaefer, Stephan Mathieu and Philip Jeck but not so vinyl-tinged, even if we clearly distinguish typical pops and scratches here and there. What the work privileges is a practically constant superimposition of harmonic layers, rarely shaded with the recognizable qualities of a timbre (for example, the organ in the splendid “Breath Of Day”), utterly rewarding without sounding neither overly nostalgic nor menacingly austere yet also floating in a foggy dimness often bathed in quasi-industrial trance. For sure the anguish that some of these pieces elicit didn’t make me think of degradation or decay, instead transmitting sensations that reinforce the still unbroken link with an indescribable endlessness which, absurdly, causes a dejected feeling of near-conclusion. The perennial antagonism between mortality and the rest of the things that we’ll never see or even know about.
UNIVERS ZERO – Relaps
Subtitled “Archives 1984-1986”, this disc (of course released by Cuneiform) contains live performances by the angriest incarnations – the 1984 quintet and the 1985-86 septet - of Daniel Denis’ creature, one of the defining entities of Rock In Opposition, whose records were almost a daydream in this hopeless country unless you were willing to part from several large denomination banknotes, or had a friend travelling abroad. This happened in the pre-internet era, but luckily the web – well before global economy – has helped in giving the large part of Italian thieves who ran rarity shops a chunky middle finger (end of regional digressions). The material, mastered from clear enough archival tapes, comprises exciting renditions of classics such as “Présage” and “The Funeral Plain”, pieces delivered with a mixture of high-level technical proficiency, exquisite classical sensitiveness and – when needed - scarcely repressed fury (indeed among the reasons of UZ’s problems at that time was the impossible struggle of their complex scores against the general artistic superficiality of the 80s, and certain odd-signature-cum-angular-counterpoint fusillades let us definitively realize that there’s never really been a prayer for intelligent musicians in terms of commercial survival). Actually, this record nearly needs no review: the fans already have it, the non-acquainted should go elsewhere in the band’s discography (Crawling Wind, Ceux Du Dehors and Heatwave for starters). Me? I feel older by the minute, yet the goosebumps that came up during some of these executions, most notably in the fantastic rhythmic unassailability of “Heatwave” (the tune), are the same of a couple of decades ago. What a group. And they’re still here, reappearing from obscurity every once in a while.
JOE PRESTON / DANIEL MENCHE – Cerberic Doxology
You owe it to yourselves to grab a copy of this double sided disc (a CD/DVD edition on Anthem) which shows other intriguing facets of Daniel Menche’s art, this time in the illustrious company of Joe Preston (of Melvins and Sunn O))) fame). Cerberic Doxology is a brilliant item under all aspects: the music, entirely conceived by superimposing voices, is a gorgeous 24-minute piece which starts and ends with a type of chanting definitely informed by native American Indian accents, its large part consisting instead of tones fusing in a mass of choral multitudes, pitches unhurriedly evolving and developing complex chords and harmonic stratifications reminiscent of Ligeti, with a less ethereal, more dramatic character in their substantial quantity of truly distressing - nearly tragic, one would say - slow glissandos. The movie is a black and white hallucination shot in the Great Pacific Northwest, with breathtaking vistas on vast valleys, natural environments and faraway mountains interspersed with the visit to a forsaken ruin in an unknown place, moment in which a human figure appears for a few minutes (the images are fuzzy in that circumstance; it’s not Menche, I’m pretty sure, and my familiarity with Preston’s face is nonexistent). Here, too, slowness rules: the movement of the camera, the clouds in the sky, the smoke from the distant forests, the twitches of the sleeping (dying?) bear whose picture opens and closes the film. Everything hints to the heartbreaking contrast evoked by the majesty of marvelous natural sights as opposed to the futility of mankind’s preoccupations, often the very cause behind the end of those places’ life. Artistically speaking, I was somehow reminded – with extremely different constituents but a certain similarity in the “intermedia approach” - of Eno’s static Manhattan clips seen during the Music For Films era. Still, as a longtime rural addict and Menche zealot, you know which side I’m on. An archetypal case of MIR (Mandatory Infinite Repeat): audio, video, both, your choice. An essential set. Act quickly.
Sunday, 28 June 2009
Friday, 26 June 2009
Encouraging Signals Of Life From The Galaxy Of Dead Music
A clutch of rather brilliant releases on Dragon’s Eye and Infrequency, respectively run by sound artists Yann Novak and Jamie Drouin, specializing in the contemporary aspects of electronica, ambient and installation soundtracks. There’s some seriously striking material to be found in this lot for lovers of motionless trance, evocative concreteness and exploratory transformation. Substance prevails upon inflated ego, always a major plus when we look at the impersonators who don’t know what music is yet keep releasing records and fool the ignorant, operating in the easily cultivable soil of creative failure. The artists reviewed here, fortunately, seem to walk and think differently, privileging sobriety and intelligence to Paypal-funded illuminations and senseless esoteric ostentation, thus rekindling a measure of interest for the genre in this disillusion-soaked commentator.
WYNDEL HUNT / THOM HEILESON – Unit Of Selection
In a slim case come two discs, a CD and a DVD, containing audio and video material from a couple of voyagers who possess qualities that are not exactly evident on a superficial listen/glance. Hunt’s work is born from what’s illustrated as an “unstructured emotional template” combined with the idea of an “anonymous force that shapes”. In actual fact, this translates into soundscapes hinting to a sort of repressed violence explicated by long moments of sick stillness (of the industrial kind, rather intimidating and resonating unpromisingly) and acousmatic interference adding a measure of psychic instability, with rare intrusions by reassuring elements that render the picture harmonically agreeable for the ill-equipped. Digital media artist Heileson took 18 minutes worth of these sonic figments, applying his own sensitiveness in a series of intangible images which miraculously appear perfectly synchronized to the sounds, to the point of optical addiction if one enjoys the vision in the appropriate circumstance. It takes several tries to recognize that the underlying concepts are awfully serious, and the music – in particular – is quite difficult to enjoy at first given its almost total impenetrability. But once perseverance unlocks the mechanisms correctly we realize that there’s much more than meets the ears (in that sense, headphones are recommended) and that Hunt is a no-frills purveyor of greatly sounding human decay accelerated by the inevitable degradation of hidden instincts, the whole camouflaged under the “desire to represent the movement of abstract objects in an imagined perceptual space”. An excellent set overall.
CELER – Breeze Of Roses
Unbelievably, the caressing sounds that constitute the whole structure of this tenderly engulfing music were obtained by the extreme processing of a recording that Will and Dani Long made in 2005 during a weekend on the Lake Attersee in Austria - in the belly of a docked sailboat, of all places. The basic constituents are a mini-piano, whistles, cello plus the “thumps and thuds of water against the bottom of the boat and the wind howling outside of the open hatch”. You won’t be able to discern practically anything of these factors, though, as the 48 minutes of Breeze Of Roses are a wonderful reminder of how the notion of “ambient” was born: persistently cuddling drones whose tonal tissue changes just that necessary bit to guarantee that the sound lives and flows, perfect for infinite-repeat spinning, a delight in an evening where the tiredness of the mind and a general inclination to the non-assimilation of overly complicated concepts create the ideal terrain for total relaxation, still maintaining the human insightfulness that the couple has grown us used to over the years. One of the genre’s best releases in recent times.
LISSOM – Nest Of Iterations
Portrayed by the press blurb as a “sound and video artist transfixed with micro details”, Tana Sprague (Lissom) presents this splendidly titled record which since the very first attempt demonstrates considerable abilities, resulting in a convincing collection of electroacoustic situations where the soul factor is always essential and at the forefront. Sprague’s substantial CV features studies and artistic collaborations that immediately place her in the altitudes of the technically advanced, but one can’t just be creative with degrees and bachelors. She designs mesmerizing soundscapes consisting of faraway ins and outs, cyclic appearances, electronic transformations of alien melodies and environmental droning, the whole sounding like the breathing of life in between the worst kind of internal turmoil. Foreboding thrums, morphing loops and benevolent voices – whispering amidst unfading echoes of sonic fickleness - succeed over the course of a constant remoulding of perceptiveness, shimmering visions filtering through the muck of existential anguish. Clear-minded music conceived in strict adherence to the aesthetic suggestions of non-formulaic, semi-abstract expressiveness, an especially good outing by a woman who touches the right nerves with graceful savoir-faire.
CLINKER – On The Other Side… (For L. Cohen)
That’s right, you read correctly: the composition is a homage to the author of “Hallelujah” and “Suzanne”, commissioned for the 2008 Leonard Cohen International Festival in Edmonton, Alberta; in essence, this was a “live cinema” performance, one of the various specialization of Gary James Joynes, who’s also a visual artist and a vocalist besides composing commendable music (at least from what I could gather from this, my opening meeting with this man’s production). Exploring “meditative spaces and the kinaesthetic and synesthetic effects of sounds and visuals”, Clinker develops intriguing textures of processed vocals and synthesized resonances, contextualizing his work in the advanced rank of what once would have been designed as “dark/space ambient” with a pinch of (perhaps unintentional) Lustmordian influence. Indeed the growling features of the basic factor – Cohen’s low tone – meshed with the infinite wavering and oceanic swells of the electronic treatments generate more than a few moments of intense resonance, both emotional and physical. Harmonious meditations on the absence of weight, diffusing around our persona with the same levity of a flock of black-haired cherubs looking at us with a mix of resignation and severity. Nothing really new under the sun, but – inexplicably – absolutely stunning for long segments.
YANN NOVAK – The Breeze Blowing Over Us
If one has a good idea for making music, that usually comes in the most unexpected situations of life. Such is the case of this pleasantly soothing release by Dragon's Eye honcho Yann Novak who, together with his partner, was experiencing a torrid afternoon in Seattle in 2008, fighting the heat with a fan placed near the bed where they were lying. Evidently influenced by the hypnotic whirring of the appliance, Novak decided to create something serious with it, the result being an album whose extraordinariness lies in the relation between the extreme simplicity of the starting source and the complexity of thoughts that the resulting emanations elicit in the receivers. Lengthy reverberations - halfway through metallic auras and low-frequency spirals - self-regenerate in utter splendour, propagating in shadows, infinite air currents and whispered suggestions of immortality. Amidst these comforting atmospheres, separate materializations of electronic dignity interrupt the flux only for a few moments of additional reflectivity, adding further energy to an already rewarding concentration of luminousness. Beautiful, unpretentious, highly recommended.
VARIOUS ARTISTS – Au Clair De La Lune
Nine artists present individual reworking of a basic concept – “basic” indeed, as we’re talking about the earliest audio recording ever made, 1860’s snippet of a woman singing the popular tune “Au Clair De La Lune” captured by the phonoautograph (invented by Édouard-Léon Scott De Martinville) and converted into audible signals by the scientists at the Lawrence Berkeley National Laboratory in 2008. Over the course of two CDs we hear interpretations that make use of the source by thoroughly disfiguring it (Bernhard Gunter) while maintaining its fundamental essence, or mixing it with segments of audio-verité, such as Canadian Lance Olsen. Jamie Drouin and Yann Novak are the ones who privilege the most ethereally abstract qualities, developing their own peculiar kind of lunar perpetuity in almost total absence of the original character of the primeval copy, while Stephen Vitiello and Molly Berg sound like a drugged folk duo informed by avant-garde tendencies. Other participants include Lionel Marchetti & Yôko Higashi (a disquieting, gorgeously misshapen version), Steve Roden (a delicately minuscule minimalist gem), Christophe Charles and Sleep Research Facility (effective manipulations, not exactly awe-inspiring but definitely signifying considerable decorum). Good stuff overall; look carefully and, in both discs, there is some serious beauty to be found somewhere.
WYNDEL HUNT / THOM HEILESON – Unit Of Selection
In a slim case come two discs, a CD and a DVD, containing audio and video material from a couple of voyagers who possess qualities that are not exactly evident on a superficial listen/glance. Hunt’s work is born from what’s illustrated as an “unstructured emotional template” combined with the idea of an “anonymous force that shapes”. In actual fact, this translates into soundscapes hinting to a sort of repressed violence explicated by long moments of sick stillness (of the industrial kind, rather intimidating and resonating unpromisingly) and acousmatic interference adding a measure of psychic instability, with rare intrusions by reassuring elements that render the picture harmonically agreeable for the ill-equipped. Digital media artist Heileson took 18 minutes worth of these sonic figments, applying his own sensitiveness in a series of intangible images which miraculously appear perfectly synchronized to the sounds, to the point of optical addiction if one enjoys the vision in the appropriate circumstance. It takes several tries to recognize that the underlying concepts are awfully serious, and the music – in particular – is quite difficult to enjoy at first given its almost total impenetrability. But once perseverance unlocks the mechanisms correctly we realize that there’s much more than meets the ears (in that sense, headphones are recommended) and that Hunt is a no-frills purveyor of greatly sounding human decay accelerated by the inevitable degradation of hidden instincts, the whole camouflaged under the “desire to represent the movement of abstract objects in an imagined perceptual space”. An excellent set overall.
CELER – Breeze Of Roses
Unbelievably, the caressing sounds that constitute the whole structure of this tenderly engulfing music were obtained by the extreme processing of a recording that Will and Dani Long made in 2005 during a weekend on the Lake Attersee in Austria - in the belly of a docked sailboat, of all places. The basic constituents are a mini-piano, whistles, cello plus the “thumps and thuds of water against the bottom of the boat and the wind howling outside of the open hatch”. You won’t be able to discern practically anything of these factors, though, as the 48 minutes of Breeze Of Roses are a wonderful reminder of how the notion of “ambient” was born: persistently cuddling drones whose tonal tissue changes just that necessary bit to guarantee that the sound lives and flows, perfect for infinite-repeat spinning, a delight in an evening where the tiredness of the mind and a general inclination to the non-assimilation of overly complicated concepts create the ideal terrain for total relaxation, still maintaining the human insightfulness that the couple has grown us used to over the years. One of the genre’s best releases in recent times.
LISSOM – Nest Of Iterations
Portrayed by the press blurb as a “sound and video artist transfixed with micro details”, Tana Sprague (Lissom) presents this splendidly titled record which since the very first attempt demonstrates considerable abilities, resulting in a convincing collection of electroacoustic situations where the soul factor is always essential and at the forefront. Sprague’s substantial CV features studies and artistic collaborations that immediately place her in the altitudes of the technically advanced, but one can’t just be creative with degrees and bachelors. She designs mesmerizing soundscapes consisting of faraway ins and outs, cyclic appearances, electronic transformations of alien melodies and environmental droning, the whole sounding like the breathing of life in between the worst kind of internal turmoil. Foreboding thrums, morphing loops and benevolent voices – whispering amidst unfading echoes of sonic fickleness - succeed over the course of a constant remoulding of perceptiveness, shimmering visions filtering through the muck of existential anguish. Clear-minded music conceived in strict adherence to the aesthetic suggestions of non-formulaic, semi-abstract expressiveness, an especially good outing by a woman who touches the right nerves with graceful savoir-faire.
CLINKER – On The Other Side… (For L. Cohen)
That’s right, you read correctly: the composition is a homage to the author of “Hallelujah” and “Suzanne”, commissioned for the 2008 Leonard Cohen International Festival in Edmonton, Alberta; in essence, this was a “live cinema” performance, one of the various specialization of Gary James Joynes, who’s also a visual artist and a vocalist besides composing commendable music (at least from what I could gather from this, my opening meeting with this man’s production). Exploring “meditative spaces and the kinaesthetic and synesthetic effects of sounds and visuals”, Clinker develops intriguing textures of processed vocals and synthesized resonances, contextualizing his work in the advanced rank of what once would have been designed as “dark/space ambient” with a pinch of (perhaps unintentional) Lustmordian influence. Indeed the growling features of the basic factor – Cohen’s low tone – meshed with the infinite wavering and oceanic swells of the electronic treatments generate more than a few moments of intense resonance, both emotional and physical. Harmonious meditations on the absence of weight, diffusing around our persona with the same levity of a flock of black-haired cherubs looking at us with a mix of resignation and severity. Nothing really new under the sun, but – inexplicably – absolutely stunning for long segments.
YANN NOVAK – The Breeze Blowing Over Us
If one has a good idea for making music, that usually comes in the most unexpected situations of life. Such is the case of this pleasantly soothing release by Dragon's Eye honcho Yann Novak who, together with his partner, was experiencing a torrid afternoon in Seattle in 2008, fighting the heat with a fan placed near the bed where they were lying. Evidently influenced by the hypnotic whirring of the appliance, Novak decided to create something serious with it, the result being an album whose extraordinariness lies in the relation between the extreme simplicity of the starting source and the complexity of thoughts that the resulting emanations elicit in the receivers. Lengthy reverberations - halfway through metallic auras and low-frequency spirals - self-regenerate in utter splendour, propagating in shadows, infinite air currents and whispered suggestions of immortality. Amidst these comforting atmospheres, separate materializations of electronic dignity interrupt the flux only for a few moments of additional reflectivity, adding further energy to an already rewarding concentration of luminousness. Beautiful, unpretentious, highly recommended.
VARIOUS ARTISTS – Au Clair De La Lune
Nine artists present individual reworking of a basic concept – “basic” indeed, as we’re talking about the earliest audio recording ever made, 1860’s snippet of a woman singing the popular tune “Au Clair De La Lune” captured by the phonoautograph (invented by Édouard-Léon Scott De Martinville) and converted into audible signals by the scientists at the Lawrence Berkeley National Laboratory in 2008. Over the course of two CDs we hear interpretations that make use of the source by thoroughly disfiguring it (Bernhard Gunter) while maintaining its fundamental essence, or mixing it with segments of audio-verité, such as Canadian Lance Olsen. Jamie Drouin and Yann Novak are the ones who privilege the most ethereally abstract qualities, developing their own peculiar kind of lunar perpetuity in almost total absence of the original character of the primeval copy, while Stephen Vitiello and Molly Berg sound like a drugged folk duo informed by avant-garde tendencies. Other participants include Lionel Marchetti & Yôko Higashi (a disquieting, gorgeously misshapen version), Steve Roden (a delicately minuscule minimalist gem), Christophe Charles and Sleep Research Facility (effective manipulations, not exactly awe-inspiring but definitely signifying considerable decorum). Good stuff overall; look carefully and, in both discs, there is some serious beauty to be found somewhere.
Sunday, 14 June 2009
Creative Sources Avalanche
Ernesto Rodrigues shows no mercy for us poor reviewers. Enjoy this sizeable roundup of semi-synthetic (but hopefully still useful) write-ups, in the hope that it helps a bit to self-orientate amidst the huge quantity of releases by this imprint. Needless to say, more episodes of this collective-reviewing saga will appear pretty soon. Stay tuned.
UDO SCHINDLER / MARGARITA HOLZBAUER / HARALD LILLMEYER – Rot
Classily rigorous, probing improvisations for soprano sax/bass clarinet (Schindler), cello (Holzbauer) and electric guitar/electronics (Lillmeyer). More oriented towards the archetypes of XX-century chamber music than your average CS release, Rot is distinguished by the considerable methodological preparation of all participants. Preparations, in another sense, are also utilized on the instruments to generate a hybrid electroacoustic connectivity whose transcendence rate is to be determined via its balanced investigational ramifications, often hiding behind silence, thus eliciting a mood of enigmatic mystery in various tracks. Specifically, Schindler is a dispassionate dispenser of pragmatic countermeasures whenever the collective need arises, his firm statements and sudden deviations freshening the air even in the (rare) cluttered sections. Holzbauer is as supportive as remarkably delicate, extracting individual reminders and caveats from the cello in a kind of visionary discipline. Lillmeyer’s six-stringed inventions make him appear loyal yet slightly noncompliant, an ideal partner for the depiction of defaced prototypes. The record definitely does not belong to the iPod-on-the-beach category but after three spins everything is falling in place, working impeccably. Speakers in a silent setting highly recommended.
MARK O’LEARY – Fabrikraum
Better known as a perceptive jazz guitarist, O’Leary is here credited with “sound design”, showing another facet of his artistic interests. The key word is “industrial”: this music was in fact generated by assembling location recordings at the National Sculpture Factory in Cork, Ireland. It is, under any aspect, an installation whose temperament is extremely metallic, ominous noises and huge reverberations stretched for long periods, at times with more pronounced percussive features verging on the regular tolling. Think of a cross of the most harmonically pleasing work of David Jackman and Z’EV, with a lesser number of layers. Devotees of similar “forlorn echo” atmospheres - which were highly en vogue in the late 80s - could find a lot of interesting matter. It’s a little bit out of its time and does not present anything considerably striking, yet Fabrikraum works very well for “dynamic background” purposes, not offending the ears when you decide to put further attention to the consistency of the textural tissue.
BIRGIT ULHER / HEINER METZGER – Blinzeln
One is, as always, attempting to deconstruct the normal sounds of a trumpet; the other works on something called “soundtable”, which says everything and nothing, given that the noises that he conjures up range from bowed wood and metal to zing ’n’ sting sharpness and close-microphone scrubbing and scratching of (maybe) sandpaper, or plain paper, or (insert your object here). The combination is functional, despite the fact that we’ve already wandered through these lands time and again: Ulher’s flapping, hissing, sucking, gentle tooting in her stimulation of zillions of irregular upper partials do have repercussions on the listener’s part of the brain that’s more oriented to irony, whereas the extreme concreteness of Metzger’s manipulations add a touch of thickness to the overall sonic tissue. While the record is nicely conceived and completely pleasurable, it also shows that the well of expressive means for this kind of improvisation is not bottomless. A good release sounding like another hundred of similar efforts, the whole masterfully executed but - at this junction in history - hardly groundbreaking.
TONY DRYER / JACOB FELIX HEULE / JACOB LINDSAY – Idea Of West
The instrumentation comprises contrabass, drum set and clarinets. A personal favourite in this batch and, in general, CS’s recent output. A sort of dim-lit chamber music – described as “pragmatic applications of controlled improvisations and compositional structures” - thoroughly relying on the power of extremely low frequencies, contrapuntal answers often consisting of gritty secretions generated by the reeds’ overtones and by the bowing of cymbals and other parts of the percussive arsenal. A critical condition of suspension between the subtle rippling of silence by sparse elements, a “pinch-but-don’t-awake-me” maintenance of a semi-lethargic awareness that nevertheless lets us carefully consider any incident, minuscule or important, which manifests its weight one way or another. Apparently dispassionate, the interaction of the musicians is on the contrary revealing an utmost responsiveness to the slightest movement, a reciprocal will of listening actively which translates into numerous instances where auditory fulfilment becomes almost physical. Diversified approaches to a well-known palette that discard automatic actions in favour of a persistent fragrance of purposeful investigation, with more than a few sections worthy of admiration for the respect of the pure essence of instrumental connectivity.
PAURA – The Construction Of Fear
An atypical combination of talents: Alípio C. Neto (saxes), Dennis González (trumpet, voice), Ernesto Rodrigues (viola), Guilherme Rodrigues (cello, radio) and Mark Sanders (drums). The only thing that puzzles me is the rather preposterous theory about surprise and fear in jazz expressed by a Davide Sparti in the inside leaflet and, for good measure, rendered incorrectly in English from the (already incomprehensible) original. But Italy is the country in which books and movies have a different meaning than in the rest of the world due to the hard-to-believe incompetence of translators, so no big news here. Instruments exists, thank god, to deliver us from words and this particular project sounds great: strong, determined, both muscularly affirmed and barely whispered, the improvisations suggesting indeed that kind of anxious feeling that what’s unknown and/or unexpected elicit in frail minds. The timbral melange is at times exceptional, the corpulence of Neto and González versus the fascinating meagreness of the Rodrigueses with Sanders acting as a gifted master of percussive ceremonies. There’s no trace of mellifluousness in this intriguing crossing of free jazz and EAI dipped in theatrical stir, and which defies the inevitable conventions of unrehearsed music for its large part.
DARIO SANFILIPPO – Premio Malattia
Computer music, or – more precisely – “Feedback Network Based Non-Linear Digital Signal Processing System”, also known as FeNeBaNo-LiDiSProS. Easy, isn’t it? Trapani, extreme west of Sicily, a splendid area of fishermen and transparent seas, is the place where this record was realized, although this young composer (1983) - an alumnus of Domenico Sciajno in that city’s conservatory’s electronic music class - hails instead from the inlands of Agrigento. Sanfilippo shows a good command of the mechanics of the utilized means and an appreciable disposition towards non-exaggeration: his palette makes use of buzzing and murmuring in (often) subdued fashion, yet the recordings are equally geared up to surprise with sudden scathing outbursts and fairly irregular unfolding. At first the frequencies are rather ear-wrapping and, in general, brain-cuddling and that’s the face of Premio Malattia that I prefer; as the time goes, the trajectories becomes just a tad predictable, harsher feedback secretions and earth loops quite similar to dozens of other records conceived with the same means. My unspecific sensation gives birth to a vague approval: this man is expected to future improvements, to be followed with curiosity from here.
MAGDA MAYAS / TONY BUCK – Gold
Subtle duet for piano (and relative innards) and drums, where the accidental and the uncalculated seem to have a decisive prevalence on the preconceived. Music made of obscure clusters and liquefied tints, enriched by the concreteness of an underlying percussiveness in a constant reorganization of instantaneous flows of thought. The level of reciprocal listening is extremely high, and this is the reason which defines the restraint of this conversation as its most engaging attribute. A sonic environment in which even the listener is required to move around with circumspection, almost in a “do not disturb” frame of mind, in which unnecessary ornaments and superficial appearances are forbidden, concentrated expressions coming from the core of individual artistry put at the service of altruism. Gold doesn’t show virtuosity deriving from over-trained, worn out expertise but lets us look at a world of intuitions and foresight, finally leading to a peculiar kind of brooding that allows just a couple of short and snappy flare-ups. A dark horse in this lot, a sleeper which time will appoint as one of the deepest releases in Creative Sources’ catalogue. It leaves faint traces in the ear’s memory, but relates strongly to our consciousness.
POWERTRIO – What We Think When We Walk And What We Walk When Thinking
Powertrio are Eduardo Raon (harp, electronics), Joana Sá (piano, toy piano) and Luís Martins (classical guitar). In the 33 minutes of this CD they reveal themselves to be a very interesting ensemble, working in serious commitment at the margins of a somewhat disturbed quietness, even if not exactly in a “reductionist” sense (on the contrary, occasionally erupting in full-exhilaration mode in pieces such as “Improvisation II” and “Hart Auf Hart”). The notes played and the noise made are always clearly exposed, perhaps slightly modified by the electronic treatments while maintaining a degree of palpability which generates a welcome tension in the music. Their structures are often scraggy and ill-coloured yet possess an evident definition and show personality to spare. The resonance factor is in great evidence, and the ability of letting every event manifest visibly before fading to grey is worth of praise. And, what’s more, the record is greatly functional also in the habitual “open-window” test which I systematically run with this kind of stuff: it meshes gorgeously with the environment, but the presence remains commanding due to its bigger body of sound. Excellent, sober, intelligent work at times surrounded by a late XIX century classic aura. Recommended.
ABDUL MOIMÊME – Nekhephthu
The title, says the protagonist, is “probably a word from a long forgotten language”, while the music was made with a valve amplifier and a couple of prepared electric guitars, the whole recorded live sans overdubs or effects. Grimy, darkish textures tending to an oxidized sort of six-stringed malaise, a gritty tranquillity from which sparse noises and even less “musical” elements spring casually. There seems to be no deeper implication in what Moimême does, other than “constructing space in an organic manner” as per his very words. The problem is that, more than “organic”, this stuff sounds at times excessively frugal, lacking a real artistic sense. What in alternative hands might be recognizable as a generator of at least partially intriguing shades, here becomes the tool for a different kind of noise – sporadically pleasing, but in essence just noise. That said, some of the combinations are not so bad when left to resonate around without additional requests. Nevertheless, this is possibly one of the weakest albums of this group.
TOSHIMARU NAKAMURA / MARK TRAYLE – Stationary
No-input mixing board, laptop. What else? One of those cases in which I knew exactly what to anticipate, and that expectation was more or less fulfilled. Not that this automatically spells “masterpiece”, but the work is solid enough to keep the level of my appreciation quite high throughout. Profusion of pressure and dynamic shifts, infected frequencies alternated with harmonically challenging compartments, quavering purrs abruptly interrupted and replaced with frying pans full of venomous bubbling oils, ever-intelligible juxtapositions of components that generate a curious mixture of glacial impassiveness and sizzling rupture. Apparently not causing the growth of significant excrescences in this listener’s psyche, this CD is effective as a sheer account of a process whose results are not necessarily to be considered “music”. Well planned, diligently realized, structurally complex yet not overwhelming. The right adjective is perhaps “impartial”. Fans of this genre can proceed with the purchase without further considerations, bearing in mind that Stationary is not at the same altitudes of the very best in which the Japanese membrane-masseur has been involved. Birds around here seem to like it, though.
JACQUES FOSCHIA / MIKE GOYVAERTS / CHRISTOPH IRMER / GEORG WISSEL – Canaries On The Pole #2
Here’s another example of music that meshes very nicely with the rural serenity of a Sunday morning (one of my favourite moments for the ritual of listening, in case someone missed previous references). Canaries On The Pole was realized with clarinets, percussion, objects, toys, violin and “prepared” saxophones at Jazzzolder, Mechelen (Belgium) in 2007. To better highlight the concept of simultaneousness that defines this quartet’s approach, the longest track “In / Out” was enhanced by a microphone placed outside the studio, which captured alluring echoes of the nearby urban environment – including a gorgeous bell tower - while the musicians were improvising. There’s a sense of closeness around the notes, the idea of sharing something extremely profound, which brings several episodes of intense suspension where the players utilize rarefaction and conscious postponement of events to further increase the selflessness factor. Yet we also meet sections where a major determination is perceivable, the instruments in turn coming at the forefront of vivacious interactions never running towards inconsistent behaviour or narcissistic attitude; this collective vibe of ridged awareness remains a constant presence, either in movement or in stasis. It’s exactly this uncharacteristic unevenness that gifts the CD with an aura of inexplicable attractiveness, like observing a hybrid creature of uncertain origin slowly turn into a ravishing vision. Outstanding stuff all the way.
UDO SCHINDLER / MARGARITA HOLZBAUER / HARALD LILLMEYER – Rot
Classily rigorous, probing improvisations for soprano sax/bass clarinet (Schindler), cello (Holzbauer) and electric guitar/electronics (Lillmeyer). More oriented towards the archetypes of XX-century chamber music than your average CS release, Rot is distinguished by the considerable methodological preparation of all participants. Preparations, in another sense, are also utilized on the instruments to generate a hybrid electroacoustic connectivity whose transcendence rate is to be determined via its balanced investigational ramifications, often hiding behind silence, thus eliciting a mood of enigmatic mystery in various tracks. Specifically, Schindler is a dispassionate dispenser of pragmatic countermeasures whenever the collective need arises, his firm statements and sudden deviations freshening the air even in the (rare) cluttered sections. Holzbauer is as supportive as remarkably delicate, extracting individual reminders and caveats from the cello in a kind of visionary discipline. Lillmeyer’s six-stringed inventions make him appear loyal yet slightly noncompliant, an ideal partner for the depiction of defaced prototypes. The record definitely does not belong to the iPod-on-the-beach category but after three spins everything is falling in place, working impeccably. Speakers in a silent setting highly recommended.
MARK O’LEARY – Fabrikraum
Better known as a perceptive jazz guitarist, O’Leary is here credited with “sound design”, showing another facet of his artistic interests. The key word is “industrial”: this music was in fact generated by assembling location recordings at the National Sculpture Factory in Cork, Ireland. It is, under any aspect, an installation whose temperament is extremely metallic, ominous noises and huge reverberations stretched for long periods, at times with more pronounced percussive features verging on the regular tolling. Think of a cross of the most harmonically pleasing work of David Jackman and Z’EV, with a lesser number of layers. Devotees of similar “forlorn echo” atmospheres - which were highly en vogue in the late 80s - could find a lot of interesting matter. It’s a little bit out of its time and does not present anything considerably striking, yet Fabrikraum works very well for “dynamic background” purposes, not offending the ears when you decide to put further attention to the consistency of the textural tissue.
BIRGIT ULHER / HEINER METZGER – Blinzeln
One is, as always, attempting to deconstruct the normal sounds of a trumpet; the other works on something called “soundtable”, which says everything and nothing, given that the noises that he conjures up range from bowed wood and metal to zing ’n’ sting sharpness and close-microphone scrubbing and scratching of (maybe) sandpaper, or plain paper, or (insert your object here). The combination is functional, despite the fact that we’ve already wandered through these lands time and again: Ulher’s flapping, hissing, sucking, gentle tooting in her stimulation of zillions of irregular upper partials do have repercussions on the listener’s part of the brain that’s more oriented to irony, whereas the extreme concreteness of Metzger’s manipulations add a touch of thickness to the overall sonic tissue. While the record is nicely conceived and completely pleasurable, it also shows that the well of expressive means for this kind of improvisation is not bottomless. A good release sounding like another hundred of similar efforts, the whole masterfully executed but - at this junction in history - hardly groundbreaking.
TONY DRYER / JACOB FELIX HEULE / JACOB LINDSAY – Idea Of West
The instrumentation comprises contrabass, drum set and clarinets. A personal favourite in this batch and, in general, CS’s recent output. A sort of dim-lit chamber music – described as “pragmatic applications of controlled improvisations and compositional structures” - thoroughly relying on the power of extremely low frequencies, contrapuntal answers often consisting of gritty secretions generated by the reeds’ overtones and by the bowing of cymbals and other parts of the percussive arsenal. A critical condition of suspension between the subtle rippling of silence by sparse elements, a “pinch-but-don’t-awake-me” maintenance of a semi-lethargic awareness that nevertheless lets us carefully consider any incident, minuscule or important, which manifests its weight one way or another. Apparently dispassionate, the interaction of the musicians is on the contrary revealing an utmost responsiveness to the slightest movement, a reciprocal will of listening actively which translates into numerous instances where auditory fulfilment becomes almost physical. Diversified approaches to a well-known palette that discard automatic actions in favour of a persistent fragrance of purposeful investigation, with more than a few sections worthy of admiration for the respect of the pure essence of instrumental connectivity.
PAURA – The Construction Of Fear
An atypical combination of talents: Alípio C. Neto (saxes), Dennis González (trumpet, voice), Ernesto Rodrigues (viola), Guilherme Rodrigues (cello, radio) and Mark Sanders (drums). The only thing that puzzles me is the rather preposterous theory about surprise and fear in jazz expressed by a Davide Sparti in the inside leaflet and, for good measure, rendered incorrectly in English from the (already incomprehensible) original. But Italy is the country in which books and movies have a different meaning than in the rest of the world due to the hard-to-believe incompetence of translators, so no big news here. Instruments exists, thank god, to deliver us from words and this particular project sounds great: strong, determined, both muscularly affirmed and barely whispered, the improvisations suggesting indeed that kind of anxious feeling that what’s unknown and/or unexpected elicit in frail minds. The timbral melange is at times exceptional, the corpulence of Neto and González versus the fascinating meagreness of the Rodrigueses with Sanders acting as a gifted master of percussive ceremonies. There’s no trace of mellifluousness in this intriguing crossing of free jazz and EAI dipped in theatrical stir, and which defies the inevitable conventions of unrehearsed music for its large part.
DARIO SANFILIPPO – Premio Malattia
Computer music, or – more precisely – “Feedback Network Based Non-Linear Digital Signal Processing System”, also known as FeNeBaNo-LiDiSProS. Easy, isn’t it? Trapani, extreme west of Sicily, a splendid area of fishermen and transparent seas, is the place where this record was realized, although this young composer (1983) - an alumnus of Domenico Sciajno in that city’s conservatory’s electronic music class - hails instead from the inlands of Agrigento. Sanfilippo shows a good command of the mechanics of the utilized means and an appreciable disposition towards non-exaggeration: his palette makes use of buzzing and murmuring in (often) subdued fashion, yet the recordings are equally geared up to surprise with sudden scathing outbursts and fairly irregular unfolding. At first the frequencies are rather ear-wrapping and, in general, brain-cuddling and that’s the face of Premio Malattia that I prefer; as the time goes, the trajectories becomes just a tad predictable, harsher feedback secretions and earth loops quite similar to dozens of other records conceived with the same means. My unspecific sensation gives birth to a vague approval: this man is expected to future improvements, to be followed with curiosity from here.
MAGDA MAYAS / TONY BUCK – Gold
Subtle duet for piano (and relative innards) and drums, where the accidental and the uncalculated seem to have a decisive prevalence on the preconceived. Music made of obscure clusters and liquefied tints, enriched by the concreteness of an underlying percussiveness in a constant reorganization of instantaneous flows of thought. The level of reciprocal listening is extremely high, and this is the reason which defines the restraint of this conversation as its most engaging attribute. A sonic environment in which even the listener is required to move around with circumspection, almost in a “do not disturb” frame of mind, in which unnecessary ornaments and superficial appearances are forbidden, concentrated expressions coming from the core of individual artistry put at the service of altruism. Gold doesn’t show virtuosity deriving from over-trained, worn out expertise but lets us look at a world of intuitions and foresight, finally leading to a peculiar kind of brooding that allows just a couple of short and snappy flare-ups. A dark horse in this lot, a sleeper which time will appoint as one of the deepest releases in Creative Sources’ catalogue. It leaves faint traces in the ear’s memory, but relates strongly to our consciousness.
POWERTRIO – What We Think When We Walk And What We Walk When Thinking
Powertrio are Eduardo Raon (harp, electronics), Joana Sá (piano, toy piano) and Luís Martins (classical guitar). In the 33 minutes of this CD they reveal themselves to be a very interesting ensemble, working in serious commitment at the margins of a somewhat disturbed quietness, even if not exactly in a “reductionist” sense (on the contrary, occasionally erupting in full-exhilaration mode in pieces such as “Improvisation II” and “Hart Auf Hart”). The notes played and the noise made are always clearly exposed, perhaps slightly modified by the electronic treatments while maintaining a degree of palpability which generates a welcome tension in the music. Their structures are often scraggy and ill-coloured yet possess an evident definition and show personality to spare. The resonance factor is in great evidence, and the ability of letting every event manifest visibly before fading to grey is worth of praise. And, what’s more, the record is greatly functional also in the habitual “open-window” test which I systematically run with this kind of stuff: it meshes gorgeously with the environment, but the presence remains commanding due to its bigger body of sound. Excellent, sober, intelligent work at times surrounded by a late XIX century classic aura. Recommended.
ABDUL MOIMÊME – Nekhephthu
The title, says the protagonist, is “probably a word from a long forgotten language”, while the music was made with a valve amplifier and a couple of prepared electric guitars, the whole recorded live sans overdubs or effects. Grimy, darkish textures tending to an oxidized sort of six-stringed malaise, a gritty tranquillity from which sparse noises and even less “musical” elements spring casually. There seems to be no deeper implication in what Moimême does, other than “constructing space in an organic manner” as per his very words. The problem is that, more than “organic”, this stuff sounds at times excessively frugal, lacking a real artistic sense. What in alternative hands might be recognizable as a generator of at least partially intriguing shades, here becomes the tool for a different kind of noise – sporadically pleasing, but in essence just noise. That said, some of the combinations are not so bad when left to resonate around without additional requests. Nevertheless, this is possibly one of the weakest albums of this group.
TOSHIMARU NAKAMURA / MARK TRAYLE – Stationary
No-input mixing board, laptop. What else? One of those cases in which I knew exactly what to anticipate, and that expectation was more or less fulfilled. Not that this automatically spells “masterpiece”, but the work is solid enough to keep the level of my appreciation quite high throughout. Profusion of pressure and dynamic shifts, infected frequencies alternated with harmonically challenging compartments, quavering purrs abruptly interrupted and replaced with frying pans full of venomous bubbling oils, ever-intelligible juxtapositions of components that generate a curious mixture of glacial impassiveness and sizzling rupture. Apparently not causing the growth of significant excrescences in this listener’s psyche, this CD is effective as a sheer account of a process whose results are not necessarily to be considered “music”. Well planned, diligently realized, structurally complex yet not overwhelming. The right adjective is perhaps “impartial”. Fans of this genre can proceed with the purchase without further considerations, bearing in mind that Stationary is not at the same altitudes of the very best in which the Japanese membrane-masseur has been involved. Birds around here seem to like it, though.
JACQUES FOSCHIA / MIKE GOYVAERTS / CHRISTOPH IRMER / GEORG WISSEL – Canaries On The Pole #2
Here’s another example of music that meshes very nicely with the rural serenity of a Sunday morning (one of my favourite moments for the ritual of listening, in case someone missed previous references). Canaries On The Pole was realized with clarinets, percussion, objects, toys, violin and “prepared” saxophones at Jazzzolder, Mechelen (Belgium) in 2007. To better highlight the concept of simultaneousness that defines this quartet’s approach, the longest track “In / Out” was enhanced by a microphone placed outside the studio, which captured alluring echoes of the nearby urban environment – including a gorgeous bell tower - while the musicians were improvising. There’s a sense of closeness around the notes, the idea of sharing something extremely profound, which brings several episodes of intense suspension where the players utilize rarefaction and conscious postponement of events to further increase the selflessness factor. Yet we also meet sections where a major determination is perceivable, the instruments in turn coming at the forefront of vivacious interactions never running towards inconsistent behaviour or narcissistic attitude; this collective vibe of ridged awareness remains a constant presence, either in movement or in stasis. It’s exactly this uncharacteristic unevenness that gifts the CD with an aura of inexplicable attractiveness, like observing a hybrid creature of uncertain origin slowly turn into a ravishing vision. Outstanding stuff all the way.
Friday, 12 June 2009
Cubbyholes And Substructures
Rescued remnants from an ever-crowded desk, some of them good enough for more careful investigation.
FEDERICO BARABINO – Celula
An improvising guitarist from Argentina, three tracks for a total of 37 minutes circa. A diminutive self-production without excessive affectation on Noseso, whose level of audio quality tends to the lowest side of the lo-fi. Two pieces are simple improvisations on the “guitarra electrica limpia” (=clean electric guitar, tone verging on the jazzy), the longest one sees Barabino surrounding (and responding to) the voice of Kenji Siratori reciting snippets of Japanese phrases. Let’s face it: nothing made me cry miracle, yet this is not a thoroughly bad album. There’s an underlying candor that makes us forgive the unnecessary length and a few clamorous bloopers present in the solos, and some parts of the “guitar v Japanese” duo are almost hilarious. Could be of interest for those who appreciates the likes of Manuel Mota in their no-frills, axe-depicted nudity. Several moments of near-silence do help in digesting the whole much better. Best results at medium-to-low volume via speakers.
MICHAEL RODGERS – Curtained Moon
Unclothed collection of extremely rudimentary pieces for guitar and environmental recordings, presumably realized at Rodgers’ home judging by the cover’s photos. Not completely instrumental: the protagonist adds its “falsetto-lament” vocal accompaniment at times. There’s an underlying autistic quality that does not reveal much: neither experimental nor hypnotically absorbing, this stuff sounds “thrown away” in technical poverty: set the tape recorder – begin to play - what happens, happens, warts and all - limited edition, sell them to the remained ones who are still appreciative. My gut feeling is that the world is inexorably becoming chock full of “personal diaries” like this, and truth be told I never cared a iota about peeping at other people’s intimacy. With all due respect for Michael, whose best work has to be found elsewhere (ever heard of We’re Breaking Up? Start from there), this is a perfect example of material that should not be published because it’s not actual music, just a private rumination - under the guise of ineffectual noodling - in which this grumbling reviewer see no point of interest. Those who think they might can try and get a copy here.
SANTIAGO LATORRE – Órbita
On Accretions comes the debut CD of multi-instrumentalist composer Latorre, from Barcelona. The first piece - “Canon” - is gorgeous, a superimposition of reeds reminiscent of Urban Sax; this piece deserves accolades. Unfortunately the rest of the disc is not always on the same level, alternating deeper intuitions with excessively trouble-free materials whose melodic content is nearer to easy listening that avant-garde. As the man is specialized in writing music for different kinds of artistic expression – theatre, dance, fashion and video-art – the inhomogeneous typology of record must be probably attributed to this reason. There’s excessive inequality from a track to the other in terms of profundity and sonic intrigue to consider this a proper concept; it’s more like a collection of demos, very well recorded yet containing too many useless segments. Perhaps Latorre does possess talent, but he should choose only the cream of his production and apply a few layers of consistency next time.
JEPH JERMAN / AMK – Split
Another episode in the split series of John Gore’s Cohort Records, which always presents music that grabs the attention: stationary dronage, atmospheric electronica and low-priced paradises all belong to this collection of CDRs. Jeph Jerman’s “30 Minutes For Joe Jones” is a nerve-soothing study for resonant gong (“played by a small fan and amplified with cheap mic and battery powered amp”), an immobile ocean of wavering metal halfway through Organum and Klaus Wiese, particularly pleasant to the ears which get drenched with a constant sense of slow expansion and contraption akin to breathing. At the beginning of AMK’s half we find ourselves catapulted at the antipodes of the tranquility’s spectrum, two minutes exploring the most absurdist facets of sampladelia and cut’n’paste; then it’s sudden silence, only to be back with hypnotic looping and locked grooves, in a new attempt to transform the deplorable aspects of aural tightfistedness into sonic landscapes comparable to a haunted forest inhabited by drunken spirits; I’ll leave the discovering of the finale to yourselves (“warp” is the keyword, though). Overall, the disc is extremely captivating, definitely an option for some fresh air in your routine listening sessions.
XABIER ERKIZIA – [Spam Detect]
At once fascinated and annoyed by the phenomenon of spam, Erkizia put himself in the condition of creating a work which he calls an “exercise of translation of those messages received daily, ads and lies converted into sound. Spam music, ultimately”. If only all those thousands of links to theoretical expansions of our sexual organs and to virtual Viagra and Cialis sellers sounded so good, I’d be infecting my computer with plenty of viruses on a hourly basis. Revealing a well-exercised discipline in the control of the noise/silence ratio, the Basque composer has generated 31 minutes (a perfect length for a project such as this) of frequencies that affect the brain perceptibly, especially when delivered by a set of headphones (careful with volume, though – the large part of these insects stings as hell). Music that appears authoritative, counterfeit, polychromatic in its starkness, sumptuously obnoxious. Sometimes it make us feel as the junction through which hundreds of interferences transit, destined to attack one’s quietness or, at the very least, upset our steadiness psychosomatically. Transmissions of distressing memos that have no other meaning or intention than being a pain in the ass, which – from a sonic point of view – is just great. An intelligently planned piece of work, released by Hamaika, showing that even what’s hypothetically exasperating can be turned into thought-provoking art.
WUMMIN – Limbic
Precisely twelve months ago - June 2008 - exquisite cellist/vocalist Anita Chari and violinist Andrew Royal were so kind-hearted to send me this CDR of unusual-sounding, enticing pieces halfway through intermittent absurdity and chamber-esque fanaticism, taped over the course of a Californian tour in the March of the same year which they sell, together with the rest of their production, during extensive expeditions across the US. How can this aging man be forgiven for such a long delay? Old song, old lyrics, I know. Well, take a listen to what this couple does (checking this MySpace page for starters) because they’re seriously entertaining, as strange and somewhat disconnected these improvisations might appear. Both students of renowned music schools (that means “indisputable instrumental preparation”) and influenced by a whole plethora of suggestions, with evident preference for bizarre operatic vocalism, strident eastern accents and microtonal extravagance, this Chicago-based duo meshes erratic melodrama and improvisational earnestness while caring less than zero to the recording quality (most of these tracks are probably dubbed from cassettes, bumps and everything). There’s something here and there that sounds fairly disorientating in Limbic, yet sure as hell Wummin (pronounced “woman”, by the way) act like no one else I heard recently, an improbable pair of daydreamers who repeatedly attempt u-turns in a congested street. Not always achieving the aim (what aim?) but definitely with a lot of non-exactly-ordinary things occurring in the process.
FEDERICO BARABINO – Celula
An improvising guitarist from Argentina, three tracks for a total of 37 minutes circa. A diminutive self-production without excessive affectation on Noseso, whose level of audio quality tends to the lowest side of the lo-fi. Two pieces are simple improvisations on the “guitarra electrica limpia” (=clean electric guitar, tone verging on the jazzy), the longest one sees Barabino surrounding (and responding to) the voice of Kenji Siratori reciting snippets of Japanese phrases. Let’s face it: nothing made me cry miracle, yet this is not a thoroughly bad album. There’s an underlying candor that makes us forgive the unnecessary length and a few clamorous bloopers present in the solos, and some parts of the “guitar v Japanese” duo are almost hilarious. Could be of interest for those who appreciates the likes of Manuel Mota in their no-frills, axe-depicted nudity. Several moments of near-silence do help in digesting the whole much better. Best results at medium-to-low volume via speakers.
MICHAEL RODGERS – Curtained Moon
Unclothed collection of extremely rudimentary pieces for guitar and environmental recordings, presumably realized at Rodgers’ home judging by the cover’s photos. Not completely instrumental: the protagonist adds its “falsetto-lament” vocal accompaniment at times. There’s an underlying autistic quality that does not reveal much: neither experimental nor hypnotically absorbing, this stuff sounds “thrown away” in technical poverty: set the tape recorder – begin to play - what happens, happens, warts and all - limited edition, sell them to the remained ones who are still appreciative. My gut feeling is that the world is inexorably becoming chock full of “personal diaries” like this, and truth be told I never cared a iota about peeping at other people’s intimacy. With all due respect for Michael, whose best work has to be found elsewhere (ever heard of We’re Breaking Up? Start from there), this is a perfect example of material that should not be published because it’s not actual music, just a private rumination - under the guise of ineffectual noodling - in which this grumbling reviewer see no point of interest. Those who think they might can try and get a copy here.
SANTIAGO LATORRE – Órbita
On Accretions comes the debut CD of multi-instrumentalist composer Latorre, from Barcelona. The first piece - “Canon” - is gorgeous, a superimposition of reeds reminiscent of Urban Sax; this piece deserves accolades. Unfortunately the rest of the disc is not always on the same level, alternating deeper intuitions with excessively trouble-free materials whose melodic content is nearer to easy listening that avant-garde. As the man is specialized in writing music for different kinds of artistic expression – theatre, dance, fashion and video-art – the inhomogeneous typology of record must be probably attributed to this reason. There’s excessive inequality from a track to the other in terms of profundity and sonic intrigue to consider this a proper concept; it’s more like a collection of demos, very well recorded yet containing too many useless segments. Perhaps Latorre does possess talent, but he should choose only the cream of his production and apply a few layers of consistency next time.
JEPH JERMAN / AMK – Split
Another episode in the split series of John Gore’s Cohort Records, which always presents music that grabs the attention: stationary dronage, atmospheric electronica and low-priced paradises all belong to this collection of CDRs. Jeph Jerman’s “30 Minutes For Joe Jones” is a nerve-soothing study for resonant gong (“played by a small fan and amplified with cheap mic and battery powered amp”), an immobile ocean of wavering metal halfway through Organum and Klaus Wiese, particularly pleasant to the ears which get drenched with a constant sense of slow expansion and contraption akin to breathing. At the beginning of AMK’s half we find ourselves catapulted at the antipodes of the tranquility’s spectrum, two minutes exploring the most absurdist facets of sampladelia and cut’n’paste; then it’s sudden silence, only to be back with hypnotic looping and locked grooves, in a new attempt to transform the deplorable aspects of aural tightfistedness into sonic landscapes comparable to a haunted forest inhabited by drunken spirits; I’ll leave the discovering of the finale to yourselves (“warp” is the keyword, though). Overall, the disc is extremely captivating, definitely an option for some fresh air in your routine listening sessions.
XABIER ERKIZIA – [Spam Detect]
At once fascinated and annoyed by the phenomenon of spam, Erkizia put himself in the condition of creating a work which he calls an “exercise of translation of those messages received daily, ads and lies converted into sound. Spam music, ultimately”. If only all those thousands of links to theoretical expansions of our sexual organs and to virtual Viagra and Cialis sellers sounded so good, I’d be infecting my computer with plenty of viruses on a hourly basis. Revealing a well-exercised discipline in the control of the noise/silence ratio, the Basque composer has generated 31 minutes (a perfect length for a project such as this) of frequencies that affect the brain perceptibly, especially when delivered by a set of headphones (careful with volume, though – the large part of these insects stings as hell). Music that appears authoritative, counterfeit, polychromatic in its starkness, sumptuously obnoxious. Sometimes it make us feel as the junction through which hundreds of interferences transit, destined to attack one’s quietness or, at the very least, upset our steadiness psychosomatically. Transmissions of distressing memos that have no other meaning or intention than being a pain in the ass, which – from a sonic point of view – is just great. An intelligently planned piece of work, released by Hamaika, showing that even what’s hypothetically exasperating can be turned into thought-provoking art.
WUMMIN – Limbic
Precisely twelve months ago - June 2008 - exquisite cellist/vocalist Anita Chari and violinist Andrew Royal were so kind-hearted to send me this CDR of unusual-sounding, enticing pieces halfway through intermittent absurdity and chamber-esque fanaticism, taped over the course of a Californian tour in the March of the same year which they sell, together with the rest of their production, during extensive expeditions across the US. How can this aging man be forgiven for such a long delay? Old song, old lyrics, I know. Well, take a listen to what this couple does (checking this MySpace page for starters) because they’re seriously entertaining, as strange and somewhat disconnected these improvisations might appear. Both students of renowned music schools (that means “indisputable instrumental preparation”) and influenced by a whole plethora of suggestions, with evident preference for bizarre operatic vocalism, strident eastern accents and microtonal extravagance, this Chicago-based duo meshes erratic melodrama and improvisational earnestness while caring less than zero to the recording quality (most of these tracks are probably dubbed from cassettes, bumps and everything). There’s something here and there that sounds fairly disorientating in Limbic, yet sure as hell Wummin (pronounced “woman”, by the way) act like no one else I heard recently, an improbable pair of daydreamers who repeatedly attempt u-turns in a congested street. Not always achieving the aim (what aim?) but definitely with a lot of non-exactly-ordinary things occurring in the process.
Saturday, 6 June 2009
Clean Feed Cherry Picking
A few words about ten less recent chapters from the ongoing (hopefully for long) saga of Pedro Costa’s label. Other titles will be gathered in a future instalment.
FIGHT THE BIG BULL – Dying Will Be Easy
Under this name acts a reasonably bloodthirsty nonet led by guitarist Matt White, the composer of all the tunes. The instrumentation comprise two trombones (Reggie Pace, Bryan Hooten), clarinet (Adrian Sandi), tenor sax (J.C. Kuhl), trumpet (Bob Miller), percussion (Brian Jones), trap kit (Pinson Chanselle) and bass (Cameron Ralston). Given that the CD lasts slightly in excess of 31 minutes, the level of charged dynamics and overall energies that it transmits is noteworthy. Clearly stated themes get rapidly embittered in distorted fury, vapours of past influences gathered and shaken up into original recipes for a fresh kind of alternative dancing. Orchestrations that hint to big band enthusiasms and New Orleans-tinged business leave room for the instrumentalists to releases copious doses of vociferous rage, yet there’s also space for looking at atmospheres that are more reminiscent of a strip club than a jazz club. The mechanisms of lucidity don’t seem to be always in full control, but the somewhat disorderly conduct held by the ensemble is a plus, liberating the music from the sub-structural obviousness that this brand of projects frequently implies. The nervous sort of gaiety that characterizes substantial chunks of the compositions is exactly what defines their distinctiveness. Play loud and get slapped hard.
PAULO CURADO E O LUGAR DA DESORDEM – The Bird, The Breeze And Mr. Filiano
As the record’s name implies, the presence of double bassist Ken Filiano amidst leader Paulo Curado (alto sax, flute) and Bruno Pedroso (drums) is rather exemplary, classiness and sobriety always at the forefront either as accompanist or soloist, an extreme musicality symbolizing the cornerstone of his style, which is a pleasure to listen at any time. The Portuguese comrades are definitely not lesser musicians, though: this is a typical specimen of trio that might have risked to sound as a mellifluous disaster on CD and instead comes out of the speakers as a splendid kinship, the music walking at brisk paces without stumbling for a moment. Curado is a neat executor on both instruments, playing lines that result perfectly intelligible wherever he decides to go, perennial precision and clever sleights of hand never informed by excessive meticulousness. Pedroso’s wrists allow him excursions in several regions of drumming, including those which border with total freedom, yet he manages to emerge as the driving propitiator of impartially functional rhythmic designs at all times. Played with earnestness and elegance at once, these pieces appear like unprejudiced attempts to avoid that kind of pre-digested organization which gives jazz a glossy patina of unresponsive pointlessness.
JORGE LIMA BARRETO – Zul Zelub
The theory of “unrealized energy”, of which we find a meticulous description on the album’s sleeve notes, is at the basis of these 75 minutes of improvisations by pianist Jorge Lima Barreto. The length of the CD is, in truth, one of its limits but this notwithstanding some of the ideas that the sole protagonist performs are fascinating enough to release an overall sufficiently positive judgement. In “Zul”, which alternates not always lucid free forms to comparatively peaceful dissertations, the instrument is constantly intertwined with the emanations of a shortwave radio; this continuous presence defines the piece both positively and negatively, alternating moments of experimental intrigue to sections where there seems to be a little bit of confusion. The second half “Zelub” is much better, especially as Barreto’s more effective, less redundant playing is accompanied by four parallel recordings of natural and environmental sounds, including beautiful birds and other similarly engrossing presences. At times, for inexplicable reasons, I was reminded of Joachim Kühn in certain electro-acoustic partnerships on CMP. Still, despite a degree of heaviness mainly in the first part of the record, this is undoubtedly sincere music to appraise without acting as overly critical detractors.
TETTERAPADEQU – And The Missing R
A group formed by two Italians (tenor saxophonist Daniele Martini and pianist Giovanni Di Domenico) and a Portuguese rhythm section consisting of Gonçalo Almeida on double bass and João Lobo on drums, the name being an anagram – minus an “r”, hence the title – of a club named De Patter Quartet in The Hague, Holland, where the four conservatory students used to play together after the lessons. Where technical preparation of the musicians and instantaneous (and often ironic) creativity meet depends on the different circumstances that the music presents. Barely sketched ideas, adventurous sensitivity, a few grimaces and fully fledged compositions, the whole under a stylistic banner whose colours are mainly taken from jazz, but also from other kinds of immediate intuition, several moments characterized by intense silences and melancholic touches for good measure. Now tangentially intelligent, now more respectful of traditions, this record shows the artists’ will to do their best to maintain an optimistically untarnished approach to interplay; they sound dedicated, detached and having fun at once. The result is an extremely satisfying album, its moods and inclinations not in need to overwhelm the listener. Remarkable and, at the end of the day, successful in not giving us the chance of an accurate classification.
FREDRIK NORDSTRÖM QUINTET – Live In Coimbra
The leader behaves civilly on tenor sax while piloting an ensemble featuring Mats Äleklint (trombone), Mattias Ståhl (vibes), Torbjörn Zetterberg (double bass) and Fredrik Rundqvist (drums). Forgive me everybody, but this is probably the first time in which this writer clearly didn’t enjoy a Clean Feed release, or at least didn’t accept the liners’ hype: in fact, Nordström defines the playing as “dazzling and creative” while I found it formulaic, prescribed, overeducated, the music often bordering on tedium. The live atmosphere is practically absent (only polite applause at the end of the pieces), the musicians’ technical expertise is obviously visible at all times, yet there’s an excess of respect in there that makes us feel like listening to the same piece repeated throughout. Everything appears tightly controlled, perfectly hygienic, no dust, no rust, no emotion. If this is a homage to tradition or something similar, it’s too courteous for my taste: apart from a couple of pleasant enough themes, the compositions are forgotten after a minute and the large part of the solos belongs to the mail order catalogue of mainstream. A punch-the-clock item useful for lounge purposes only, definitely not on the habitual level of energy and ingenious involvement of this label’s average output. Writes again Nordström: “The concert was recorded but not planned to be released as an album”. Sometimes it’s better to follow the original plan, isn’t it?
THE FLATLANDS COLLECTIVE – Maatjes
A Dutch word that means “mates” also defines a typical local delicacy, of which the musicians who play in the CD grew fond during a stay in Amsterdam. The exchange of musical experiences – Chicago versus The Netherlands – is at the basis of this album featuring virtual leader Jorrit Dijkstra (alto sax, lyricon, analog synth), James Falzone (clarinet), Jeb Bishop (trombone), Fred Lonberg-Holm (cello, analog electronics), Jason Roebke (bass) and Frank Rosaly (drums, percussion). The compositions, mostly credited to Boston-resident Dijkstra, are visibly distinguished by a rather synchronized approach, the artists following a basic compositional scheme comprising a number of places for individual expression but always in the name of an orchestral result that often sounds regimented, only at times slightly more audacious. In general, the players do not seem to be looking too hard for alternative routes: once a suggestion is delineated, they develop a few instant propositions without putting excessive quantities of juvenile delinquency in there, wearing an “everything-under-control” mask whatever the proposition may be (among the declared influences, minimalist mavericks Terry Riley and LaMonte Young; still, curb your enthusiasm if you think to find anything even remotely similar to that music). This somewhat scarcely flexible application of colours and codes limits the sparkle factor of the pieces, which remain flawlessly elegant examples of semi-improvised concepts partially subjugated to a collective format, the whole impeccably executed yet unquestionably cold to these ears.
RIDD QUARTET – Fiction Avalanche
Reuben Radding (double bass), Jon Irabagon (sax), Kris Davis (piano), Jeff Davis (drums), RIDD combine different types of situations and moods, ranging from the sober elegance of rarefied tunes where the piano dictates the behavioural rules of a jazz that follows – at least in part - the tradition without sounding démodé (the preferred facet of the group by this writer) to more oblique exemplifications of dissonant freedom, often interesting, at times a little tortuous, in general destined not to remain in the memory (this needs the opening of a discussion panel; how many records of contemporary jazz are in effect “destined to remain in the memory”, if not vaguely? Next time). The players, whose nimbleness is beyond debate, approach the material with the right balance of clever diplomacy and regulated sixth sense, rarely exalting the fuming aspects of improvisation in favour of a controlled attitude which sounds very welcome. Radding and Irabagon complement their reciprocal finesse splendidly, literate contrapuntal parallelisms calling attention also when the tune does not necessarily require it. Jeff Davis is the most discreet figure of the quartet, humility at the service of the collective yet extremely precise and reliable, a teaching for certain drummers who would have better served themselves by becoming wailing guitarists instead of banging our ears off the head. Still, the real pleasures frequently come courtesy of Kris Davis, improvisational intelligence on a par with her abilities as a refined interlocutor, chordal hues and sparkling arpeggios always noticeable at the forefront of the mix even in the less intelligible sections.
STEVE ADAMS TRIO – Surface Tension
Adams is a member of ROVA, in front of which a knowledgeable listener could even think of genuflecting – enough said. In this record he plays sopranino, alto, tenor and baritone plus bass flute, flanked by Ken Filiano on bass and Scott Amendola on drums. I’m usually kind-hearted towards instrumentalists belonging to the same rank of these three men, provided that clichés and formulas are left out of the equation which, we’re happy to report, is exactly what happens here. This is as fresh a jazz as a herbal antiperspirant: the music, entirely written by Adams, literally breathes, whatever the sort of proposition he presents. Inspired improvisations sounding like well-rehearsed charts, clever swinging, intense soliloquies and considerate interplay with just a pinch of disenchantment: everything is executed with congruence, the musicians’ intents perfectly aligned in a punctilious search for different solutions. While Filiano performs according to his customary instrumental stature, alternating dissonant bopping and arco-tinged sensitive shrewdness, and Amendola acts as a clear-headed rhythmic propeller gifted with remarkable clarity of vision, the leader is obviously a master of the game, the relationship with the mechanics of blowing air into tubes fuelled by a refined sense of suggestiveness and proportional technical monstrosity which makes us appreciate the sheer sound of any note that he emits, with a personal preference for the splendidly evocative considerations on the flute in tracks such as the gorgeous “ninth” (thus called by yours truly because the CD contains ten chapters, but the cover and the press release indicate only eight titles). A flawless example of creative interaction in a trio, a veritable clinic for many aspiring leaders who don’t have a clue about where they want to go.
JOHN O’GALLAGHER TRIO – Dirty Hands
The spectacular audio quality of the recording is extremely helpful in highlighting the instrumental adroitness of alto saxophonist O’Gallagher and his comrades, bassist Masa Kamaguchi and drummer Jeff Williams. People who sound like they’ve been playing together forever, recorded in studio during a pause in a series of concerts and clinics in Braga, Portugal in 2007 which made their spiritual and technical fusion complete. It’s great when, while listening to an album, one can literally penetrate the essence of each instrument (which comes naturally easier when the sources are not too numerous). This happens time and again while we “concentrate on the concentration” demonstrated by the artists all over the course of this disc, which alternates mathematic precision, committed ardour and permanent imaginativeness in a noteworthy recipe, the sounds typical of this format in a way separated, clarified and amplified to express a unique mental picture. This perfect intelligibility is what attributes to the whole a positive mark: without sounding by any means conciliatory – quite the contrary, it is full of acute corners and razor-blade sharpness – this music is also capable of touching the soul at least in part, leaving ample room for reflection and air to breathe for the brain, never overwhelmed by what ignorant analysts often define “urgency” and instead is just inability to listen, which in my book determines a loss of the right to be called “musicians”. O’Gallagher, Kamaguchi and Williams are excellent listeners and the record is, accordingly, brilliant.
DARREN JOHNSTON – The Edge Of The Forest
Remarkable compositions and skilled arrangements designed to create the perfect setting for solos played with zest and exhuding joy to perform. This pretty much sums up the near-perfection of this CD, among my overall favourites in this batch, which gives back copious doses of almost physical pleasure spin after spin – a rare characteristic even in technically superior, high-level releases. Trumpeter and composer Johnston, who has worked among others with Fred Frith and Myra Melford, is aided by Ben Goldberg (clarinet), Sheldon Brown (tenor sax, bass clarinet), Devin Hoff (upright bass), Smith Dobson V (drums) and, exclusively in “Foggy”, by accordionist Rob Reich. A response to the pedestrian attitude of those combos based upon the “nonexistent-theme-thrown-away-before-inconclusive-blowouts” modus operandi, the pieces are constructed with architectural extensiveness, a plurality of diverse keys to open the doors of never-invasive, ever-articulate ramifications leading the group into territories explored with Zappa-esque tightness in uncompromising perseverance, at the same time lightening up the connotations of otherwise unsurprising redundancies. Not for a minute we experience that feel of imminent catastrophe which often underscores excessive freedom, destroying the good intentions that a tune might show: the music flows with the head on its shoulders, the players walking surefooted amidst potential turmoil maintaining rationality and brilliance, and ends exactly where it had to, its latent coldness replaced by a formidable musicality which makes us completely forget about the meaning of “lackadaisical”. A disciplined yet spirited album: if you have to pick just a few in this tentet, this is one of them.
FIGHT THE BIG BULL – Dying Will Be Easy
Under this name acts a reasonably bloodthirsty nonet led by guitarist Matt White, the composer of all the tunes. The instrumentation comprise two trombones (Reggie Pace, Bryan Hooten), clarinet (Adrian Sandi), tenor sax (J.C. Kuhl), trumpet (Bob Miller), percussion (Brian Jones), trap kit (Pinson Chanselle) and bass (Cameron Ralston). Given that the CD lasts slightly in excess of 31 minutes, the level of charged dynamics and overall energies that it transmits is noteworthy. Clearly stated themes get rapidly embittered in distorted fury, vapours of past influences gathered and shaken up into original recipes for a fresh kind of alternative dancing. Orchestrations that hint to big band enthusiasms and New Orleans-tinged business leave room for the instrumentalists to releases copious doses of vociferous rage, yet there’s also space for looking at atmospheres that are more reminiscent of a strip club than a jazz club. The mechanisms of lucidity don’t seem to be always in full control, but the somewhat disorderly conduct held by the ensemble is a plus, liberating the music from the sub-structural obviousness that this brand of projects frequently implies. The nervous sort of gaiety that characterizes substantial chunks of the compositions is exactly what defines their distinctiveness. Play loud and get slapped hard.
PAULO CURADO E O LUGAR DA DESORDEM – The Bird, The Breeze And Mr. Filiano
As the record’s name implies, the presence of double bassist Ken Filiano amidst leader Paulo Curado (alto sax, flute) and Bruno Pedroso (drums) is rather exemplary, classiness and sobriety always at the forefront either as accompanist or soloist, an extreme musicality symbolizing the cornerstone of his style, which is a pleasure to listen at any time. The Portuguese comrades are definitely not lesser musicians, though: this is a typical specimen of trio that might have risked to sound as a mellifluous disaster on CD and instead comes out of the speakers as a splendid kinship, the music walking at brisk paces without stumbling for a moment. Curado is a neat executor on both instruments, playing lines that result perfectly intelligible wherever he decides to go, perennial precision and clever sleights of hand never informed by excessive meticulousness. Pedroso’s wrists allow him excursions in several regions of drumming, including those which border with total freedom, yet he manages to emerge as the driving propitiator of impartially functional rhythmic designs at all times. Played with earnestness and elegance at once, these pieces appear like unprejudiced attempts to avoid that kind of pre-digested organization which gives jazz a glossy patina of unresponsive pointlessness.
JORGE LIMA BARRETO – Zul Zelub
The theory of “unrealized energy”, of which we find a meticulous description on the album’s sleeve notes, is at the basis of these 75 minutes of improvisations by pianist Jorge Lima Barreto. The length of the CD is, in truth, one of its limits but this notwithstanding some of the ideas that the sole protagonist performs are fascinating enough to release an overall sufficiently positive judgement. In “Zul”, which alternates not always lucid free forms to comparatively peaceful dissertations, the instrument is constantly intertwined with the emanations of a shortwave radio; this continuous presence defines the piece both positively and negatively, alternating moments of experimental intrigue to sections where there seems to be a little bit of confusion. The second half “Zelub” is much better, especially as Barreto’s more effective, less redundant playing is accompanied by four parallel recordings of natural and environmental sounds, including beautiful birds and other similarly engrossing presences. At times, for inexplicable reasons, I was reminded of Joachim Kühn in certain electro-acoustic partnerships on CMP. Still, despite a degree of heaviness mainly in the first part of the record, this is undoubtedly sincere music to appraise without acting as overly critical detractors.
TETTERAPADEQU – And The Missing R
A group formed by two Italians (tenor saxophonist Daniele Martini and pianist Giovanni Di Domenico) and a Portuguese rhythm section consisting of Gonçalo Almeida on double bass and João Lobo on drums, the name being an anagram – minus an “r”, hence the title – of a club named De Patter Quartet in The Hague, Holland, where the four conservatory students used to play together after the lessons. Where technical preparation of the musicians and instantaneous (and often ironic) creativity meet depends on the different circumstances that the music presents. Barely sketched ideas, adventurous sensitivity, a few grimaces and fully fledged compositions, the whole under a stylistic banner whose colours are mainly taken from jazz, but also from other kinds of immediate intuition, several moments characterized by intense silences and melancholic touches for good measure. Now tangentially intelligent, now more respectful of traditions, this record shows the artists’ will to do their best to maintain an optimistically untarnished approach to interplay; they sound dedicated, detached and having fun at once. The result is an extremely satisfying album, its moods and inclinations not in need to overwhelm the listener. Remarkable and, at the end of the day, successful in not giving us the chance of an accurate classification.
FREDRIK NORDSTRÖM QUINTET – Live In Coimbra
The leader behaves civilly on tenor sax while piloting an ensemble featuring Mats Äleklint (trombone), Mattias Ståhl (vibes), Torbjörn Zetterberg (double bass) and Fredrik Rundqvist (drums). Forgive me everybody, but this is probably the first time in which this writer clearly didn’t enjoy a Clean Feed release, or at least didn’t accept the liners’ hype: in fact, Nordström defines the playing as “dazzling and creative” while I found it formulaic, prescribed, overeducated, the music often bordering on tedium. The live atmosphere is practically absent (only polite applause at the end of the pieces), the musicians’ technical expertise is obviously visible at all times, yet there’s an excess of respect in there that makes us feel like listening to the same piece repeated throughout. Everything appears tightly controlled, perfectly hygienic, no dust, no rust, no emotion. If this is a homage to tradition or something similar, it’s too courteous for my taste: apart from a couple of pleasant enough themes, the compositions are forgotten after a minute and the large part of the solos belongs to the mail order catalogue of mainstream. A punch-the-clock item useful for lounge purposes only, definitely not on the habitual level of energy and ingenious involvement of this label’s average output. Writes again Nordström: “The concert was recorded but not planned to be released as an album”. Sometimes it’s better to follow the original plan, isn’t it?
THE FLATLANDS COLLECTIVE – Maatjes
A Dutch word that means “mates” also defines a typical local delicacy, of which the musicians who play in the CD grew fond during a stay in Amsterdam. The exchange of musical experiences – Chicago versus The Netherlands – is at the basis of this album featuring virtual leader Jorrit Dijkstra (alto sax, lyricon, analog synth), James Falzone (clarinet), Jeb Bishop (trombone), Fred Lonberg-Holm (cello, analog electronics), Jason Roebke (bass) and Frank Rosaly (drums, percussion). The compositions, mostly credited to Boston-resident Dijkstra, are visibly distinguished by a rather synchronized approach, the artists following a basic compositional scheme comprising a number of places for individual expression but always in the name of an orchestral result that often sounds regimented, only at times slightly more audacious. In general, the players do not seem to be looking too hard for alternative routes: once a suggestion is delineated, they develop a few instant propositions without putting excessive quantities of juvenile delinquency in there, wearing an “everything-under-control” mask whatever the proposition may be (among the declared influences, minimalist mavericks Terry Riley and LaMonte Young; still, curb your enthusiasm if you think to find anything even remotely similar to that music). This somewhat scarcely flexible application of colours and codes limits the sparkle factor of the pieces, which remain flawlessly elegant examples of semi-improvised concepts partially subjugated to a collective format, the whole impeccably executed yet unquestionably cold to these ears.
RIDD QUARTET – Fiction Avalanche
Reuben Radding (double bass), Jon Irabagon (sax), Kris Davis (piano), Jeff Davis (drums), RIDD combine different types of situations and moods, ranging from the sober elegance of rarefied tunes where the piano dictates the behavioural rules of a jazz that follows – at least in part - the tradition without sounding démodé (the preferred facet of the group by this writer) to more oblique exemplifications of dissonant freedom, often interesting, at times a little tortuous, in general destined not to remain in the memory (this needs the opening of a discussion panel; how many records of contemporary jazz are in effect “destined to remain in the memory”, if not vaguely? Next time). The players, whose nimbleness is beyond debate, approach the material with the right balance of clever diplomacy and regulated sixth sense, rarely exalting the fuming aspects of improvisation in favour of a controlled attitude which sounds very welcome. Radding and Irabagon complement their reciprocal finesse splendidly, literate contrapuntal parallelisms calling attention also when the tune does not necessarily require it. Jeff Davis is the most discreet figure of the quartet, humility at the service of the collective yet extremely precise and reliable, a teaching for certain drummers who would have better served themselves by becoming wailing guitarists instead of banging our ears off the head. Still, the real pleasures frequently come courtesy of Kris Davis, improvisational intelligence on a par with her abilities as a refined interlocutor, chordal hues and sparkling arpeggios always noticeable at the forefront of the mix even in the less intelligible sections.
STEVE ADAMS TRIO – Surface Tension
Adams is a member of ROVA, in front of which a knowledgeable listener could even think of genuflecting – enough said. In this record he plays sopranino, alto, tenor and baritone plus bass flute, flanked by Ken Filiano on bass and Scott Amendola on drums. I’m usually kind-hearted towards instrumentalists belonging to the same rank of these three men, provided that clichés and formulas are left out of the equation which, we’re happy to report, is exactly what happens here. This is as fresh a jazz as a herbal antiperspirant: the music, entirely written by Adams, literally breathes, whatever the sort of proposition he presents. Inspired improvisations sounding like well-rehearsed charts, clever swinging, intense soliloquies and considerate interplay with just a pinch of disenchantment: everything is executed with congruence, the musicians’ intents perfectly aligned in a punctilious search for different solutions. While Filiano performs according to his customary instrumental stature, alternating dissonant bopping and arco-tinged sensitive shrewdness, and Amendola acts as a clear-headed rhythmic propeller gifted with remarkable clarity of vision, the leader is obviously a master of the game, the relationship with the mechanics of blowing air into tubes fuelled by a refined sense of suggestiveness and proportional technical monstrosity which makes us appreciate the sheer sound of any note that he emits, with a personal preference for the splendidly evocative considerations on the flute in tracks such as the gorgeous “ninth” (thus called by yours truly because the CD contains ten chapters, but the cover and the press release indicate only eight titles). A flawless example of creative interaction in a trio, a veritable clinic for many aspiring leaders who don’t have a clue about where they want to go.
JOHN O’GALLAGHER TRIO – Dirty Hands
The spectacular audio quality of the recording is extremely helpful in highlighting the instrumental adroitness of alto saxophonist O’Gallagher and his comrades, bassist Masa Kamaguchi and drummer Jeff Williams. People who sound like they’ve been playing together forever, recorded in studio during a pause in a series of concerts and clinics in Braga, Portugal in 2007 which made their spiritual and technical fusion complete. It’s great when, while listening to an album, one can literally penetrate the essence of each instrument (which comes naturally easier when the sources are not too numerous). This happens time and again while we “concentrate on the concentration” demonstrated by the artists all over the course of this disc, which alternates mathematic precision, committed ardour and permanent imaginativeness in a noteworthy recipe, the sounds typical of this format in a way separated, clarified and amplified to express a unique mental picture. This perfect intelligibility is what attributes to the whole a positive mark: without sounding by any means conciliatory – quite the contrary, it is full of acute corners and razor-blade sharpness – this music is also capable of touching the soul at least in part, leaving ample room for reflection and air to breathe for the brain, never overwhelmed by what ignorant analysts often define “urgency” and instead is just inability to listen, which in my book determines a loss of the right to be called “musicians”. O’Gallagher, Kamaguchi and Williams are excellent listeners and the record is, accordingly, brilliant.
DARREN JOHNSTON – The Edge Of The Forest
Remarkable compositions and skilled arrangements designed to create the perfect setting for solos played with zest and exhuding joy to perform. This pretty much sums up the near-perfection of this CD, among my overall favourites in this batch, which gives back copious doses of almost physical pleasure spin after spin – a rare characteristic even in technically superior, high-level releases. Trumpeter and composer Johnston, who has worked among others with Fred Frith and Myra Melford, is aided by Ben Goldberg (clarinet), Sheldon Brown (tenor sax, bass clarinet), Devin Hoff (upright bass), Smith Dobson V (drums) and, exclusively in “Foggy”, by accordionist Rob Reich. A response to the pedestrian attitude of those combos based upon the “nonexistent-theme-thrown-away-before-inconclusive-blowouts” modus operandi, the pieces are constructed with architectural extensiveness, a plurality of diverse keys to open the doors of never-invasive, ever-articulate ramifications leading the group into territories explored with Zappa-esque tightness in uncompromising perseverance, at the same time lightening up the connotations of otherwise unsurprising redundancies. Not for a minute we experience that feel of imminent catastrophe which often underscores excessive freedom, destroying the good intentions that a tune might show: the music flows with the head on its shoulders, the players walking surefooted amidst potential turmoil maintaining rationality and brilliance, and ends exactly where it had to, its latent coldness replaced by a formidable musicality which makes us completely forget about the meaning of “lackadaisical”. A disciplined yet spirited album: if you have to pick just a few in this tentet, this is one of them.
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