Moment's Notice
Reviews of Recent Media
(continued)
Sophie Agnel + Olivier Benoit + Daunik Lazro
Gargorium
Fou Records FR-LP 09
The cover of the LP Gargorium presents a remarkable photograph: a translucent image of a demonic sculpture seems to hover in a garden, its materiality suspended between air, liquid and stone. It is, however, just remarkable enough to provide apt housing for the music within, four intensely concentrated trio pieces by pianist Sophie Agnel, electric guitarist Olivier Benoit, and saxophonist Daunik Lazro, three of France’s most creative improvisers, who at times might leave one struggling to identify the instruments. While Fou regularly draws on the vast recordings of label creator Jean-Marc Foussat (who supplied the arresting cover image), the recordings were made by others, the first three tracks by Peter Orins in September 2008 at La Malterie in Lille, and the fourth by Greg Pyvka in April 2009 at Carré Bleu in Poitiers.
The opening “Migratory Motor Complex” begins with patterns of rapid mechanical clicking, not readily identifiable as any of the listed instruments, though presumably a percussive use of piano or guitar. Lazro’s saxophone (he is credited with baritone alone but restricts himself to the alto register here) gradually foregrounds a linear element amid the mechanical rhythms, but this too is as much an abstraction as the percussion. After a brief pause, the background shifts, emphasizing light and abstract feedback from Benoit’s guitar. There’s a kind of perfect inversion of definitions at work in this music. If the instruments have been abstracted from notions of conventional musical language, they have also entered a realm of absolute plasticity, emphasizing the instruments’ physicality in a way that abstains from any reference to their conventional histories.
This becomes even more marked in the succeeding pieces. “Vibratile” gives prominence to Lazro’s baritone, but he might be operating in the midst of a percussion orchestra, a multifarious assemblage of meaning-suffused knocks, scrapes, contusions, and other abrasions. Beginning Side Two, “Tony Mait” is a duet of Agnel and Benoit for the first five minutes, the former much occupied with the piano harp and a certain degree of preparation, the latter creating a polyrhythmic barrage of muffled and muted clusters. Lazro appears around the five-minute mark. Initially pecking quietly at a single high pitch, he turns it into an extended squeal, soon inspiring adjacent, quiet highs from his partners, the methods of production unclear.
The fourth and final segment, the still more dream-like “Yelloh-Carré,” begins in a maze of brushed and plucked piano strings, reverberating high guitar notes, and electronic-sounding saxophone split-tones, all mingling and mutating, sometimes isolated, sometimes conversational, extending the dance of shifting proximities and resonances that is in some sense the key operating procedure of this most inventive trio.
–Stuart Broomer
Barry Altschul + David Izenzon + Perry Robinson
Stop Time
NoBusiness NBCD 163
The discovery of this one-off live session from 1978 by David Izenzon, Perry Robinson, and Barry Altschul is a particularly welcome find. Bassist Izenzon recorded so rarely in his tragically short career that any new recording is cause for excitement. Add to that the relative paucity of recordings by clarinetist Robinson, particularly at this phase of his playing. The three were each in particularly vital phases of their respective careers at the time, particularly as active members of the NY Loft scene. Altschul was recording with Sam Rivers and as a leader with musicians like Ray Anderson, Izenzon was recording with Paul Motian, and Robinson was recording as a leader as well as with Gunter Hampel’s Galaxie Dream Band. Altschul recalls that the trio was convened by Izenzon who also booked the gig. The drummer also remembers that there was a rehearsal and might have been another gig. But listening to the masterful collective interplay on the four untitled improvisations captured here, one would easily assume that this was a long-running ensemble.
What strikes the listener immediately is how fluid the roles of the musicians are. From the first notes, they eschew any notion of a traditional reeds/bass/drums trio. That comes as no surprise as both Izenzon and Altschul were integral in exploding the timekeeping function of their instruments, developing particularly melodic approaches. That penchant for free melodicism imbues the improvisations, though the three never seize on any notion of themes or heads. Listen to the way that the first improvisation opens with a loping bass line that moves with an open sense of swing, crisscrossing Robinson’s lithe clarinet as simmering drums prod and propel the trajectory of the piece. That becomes the launching pad for collective free flights as the three voices weave their way around each other. In the trio sound, there is a mutable sense of focus rather than formal structures of solos and accompaniment, instead responsively navigating their way as themes emerge and morph to dynamically shifting arcs.
The slow musings of the second piece provide an effective contrast to the opener. Izenzon’s arco playing is a particular highlight of the release, countered effectively with Robinson’s brooding, chalumeau timbres and Altschul’s detailed percussive shadings. The drummer’s tuned thunder kicks off the third improvisation joined by Izenzon’s spattering counterpoint and soaring clarinet flurries. The wending flow of the piece leads to dark lyricism that emerges as a baleful blues strut with Robinson calling on the roots of jazz clarinet playing and abstracting them with reflective freedom. The piece starts to gather force again as the track fades out. The session concludes with a twenty-minute improvisation which wanders a bit, while still offering strong sections for each of the players. It’s fortunate that Peter Kuhn was in attendance that night to capture all that went down, providing worthy additions to the discographies of each of the members.
–Michael Rosenstein
Rodrigo Amado The Bridge
Beyond the Margins
Trost TR240
It’s inevitable that reviews of this cracking new record will use the term “supergroup.” Certainly, the lineup does consist of some improvised music luminaries: tenor titan Amado is joined by pianist Alexander Von Schlippenbach, bassist Ingebrigt Haker Flaten, and percussionist/vocalist Gerry Hemingway. But anyone who loves the music knows that it’s on some fundamental level about relationships, particularly the communication and trust that props up the good ones.
The 40-minute title track that makes up most of this record is ample evidence of that. Mere jams and bashing can get dull very quickly. But there’s never even a hint of that right from the punchy opening to this live shot from Warsaw last year. Nor is this music that’s particularly interested in technical flash (though there’s plenty of it, if that’s your thing). To me, it’s some of the most vibrant improvised music I’ve heard all year, a reminder of the bracing power of creation in real-time. For all the power and density of the music, it’s got a fleetness and elegance to it at all times. No moment gets weighed down or overstays its welcome; indeed, the ideas come so often and so quickly that the effect is pretty head-spinning. Similarly, nothing is obvious, either musically or emotionally. You can hear this in terms of what each individual player is doing (the bassist’s gorgeous runs, Schlippenbach’s jabs to follow flourishes) or the group as a whole (a sudden dip into Monk, or an ominous dirge emerging unexpectedly). The four-way conversation is supersonic throughout, with a vitality and momentum that’s outside the lines (or, yes, beyond the margins).
Highlights abound. A Newk-ish turn from Amado near the mid-point, Schlippenbach riding a two-chord seesaw for almost a minute as the flame burns all around him, Hemingway with brushes and rimshots and the most marvelous vocalese. Or the bruised ballad that precedes the most joyous, swinging groove towards the end. And just like that, they’re off to “Personal Mountains,” which positively explodes with multi-directional pianism beneath Amado’s big, bold lines. And the disc concludes with a marvelously surprising take on Ayler’s “Ghosts.” They pulled it apart gorgeously, harmonic jewels spilling from the torn center. It’s exultant, a joyous shout. Except at the end, when it’s a chorus of bells and gentle vocals from Hemingway.
So guys, when’s the next record coming out?
–Jason Bivins
Fred Anderson Quartet
The Milwaukee Tapes, Vol. 2
Corbett vs. Dempsey CvsD CD 101
The Milwaukee Tapes, Vol. 2 captures the second half of the Fred Anderson Quartet’s winter of 1980 hit in Milwaukee. Although the first volume was released in 2000, the second half of the evening’s performance was only recently rediscovered and is heard here for the first time. Anderson, along with trumpeter Billy Brimfield, bassist Larry Hayrod, and Hamid Drake on drums work through five extended tunes in which they stretch out between eleven and almost seventeen minutes.
The quartet’s recipe is simple but effective: long pieces built on bold, declarative tunes; wide open territory for solos; phrases and melodies punctuated with space; and a continuously pulsing, living, and breathing rhythm section. Throughout, the band is relaxed, loose, and united in purpose. Hayrod and Drake are an incredibly dynamic pair. Anderson and Brimfield use more space compared to other players in this musical vein who might just bludgeon the listener to death with a free jazz blowout. They are unhurried, deliberate, and hesitant to wear heart on their sleeve. There’s mystery in the music and the band seems to prefer posing questions over giving answers, which gives the listener much to consider. There is rarely any kind of tension, release, and resolution, either through changes in volume, tempo, texture, intensity, etc.; the band rarely builds to a climax. This may discomfit some listeners, but the sustained tension drives the music forward. The band often rides at a plateau, and as on “Bernice” and “He Who Walks Alone,” they can be trance inducing. “Bernice” opens the album with a slow, stately rubato melody. Anderson sticks to the middle and lower realm of his strong tenor and continues in the rubato mode. The rhythm section prods him and he responds, mixing in some runs with bits from the head. Hayrod and Drake establish a sprightly gait, which has Brimfield shifting up a gear or two, but still considered and within himself. Rather than offer separate bass and drum solos, the pair solos together as one, exhibiting their mastery of the groove rather than showcasing individual chops.
“Another Place” is a medium swing based on a four-note repeating motive that evolves into a call and response. Brimfield slashes through some double time phrases over Hayrod’s walking bass. One of the album’s few true higher peaks of intensity come near the end of the tune, when Anderson and Brimfield are simultaneously blowing – halfway between trading and overlapping and interweaving. “Our Theme” is a more up-tempo pseudo post-bop, as if Picasso had drawn up a sketch of what he thought bebop looks like. Both horn players get after it, especially Anderson. But it’s not just wild bop abandon, as Anderson mixes his runs with less pyrotechnic motivic ideas. The closer “3 On 2” is a lively, dare I say, boogie-down. Here Anderson is at his most spirited and lively. Drake pushes like mad and Hayrod fills the gaps with huge, round notes that expand outward into the firmament. In fact, firmament might not be a bad way to describe the album: capacious, expansive, and difficult to apprehend in toto.
–Chris Robinson
John Butcher + Eddie Prevost
Unearthed
Matchless MRCD114
On an episode of the Laura Flanders podcast, Disability justice activist and writer Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasingha speaks of love as a life force, labeling it as a process of “rigorous messy learning.” The most important art can function in this superficially contradictory fashion. Conjoining flights of fancy and wondrously ordered episodic revelations pervade Unearthed, the newest offering from the long-established duo of Eddie Prevost and John Butcher. Repeatedly, in train-long dotted spirals encompassing the vast and inclusive histories informing David Grundy’s expert notes, the duo alchemizes vicissitude, distilling and creating life from life in each sonically charged moment.
The most obvious case involves “Lament for Old Bones”’s progression from dirge to something approaching waltz, though of the post-“My Favorite Things” variety. Could there possibly exist a more beautiful and communicative version of music finding its trajectory in a series of shared moments? Points of tone and timbre ripple through the resonant church acoustic, first Prevost and then Butcher in solemn procession, Butcher listening as he so often does before entering into dialogue with Prevost’s staggered melody. That slowly inexorable finding of the way toward what clumsily might be called order, as meter emerges only to shatter, encapsulates the relationship Grundy defines as trust. I hear it as a kind of love, the spiritual bond prevalent throughout all three of these lengthy improvisations comprised of varied fragments.
Each elastic episode expands and contracts on reaudition, blurring the boundaries of model, of call and response, even of event in time as spatial reverberation becomes a counterpoint, a third voice. The trills Butcher lays down beginning at 5:15 of “digging” give rise to rough rolls and delicately piquant percussives before expanding into half-step sustains, the glorious juxtaposition of high energy and low dynamics. They have their own expanded analogue beginning at 7:32, Prevost drifting toward and away from any traditional notion of swing, or is it more fitting to suggest that swing is bending to his creative will? Like the timbrally rich historical allusions commencing “Tap Root,” sudden shifts and their attendant narrative insertions inform the ever-evolving dialogue at the music’s heart. Synchronicities abound, luminous reorderings of seemingly disparate sounds whose relationships connote discovery and community. Butcher’s sustained multiphonic culminates at 14:32 with Prevost’s hushed exciting of what sounds like a gong as tones resonate in complete sympathy, cradled in that lush acoustic. It all complements the smears and reports bandied about near the 21-minute mark, Prevost’s high hat setting up the whimsicalities his punch-line brushwork elucidates.
Within and around that vast but never overbearing acoustic, the historical equalizer, eras are shaped and reshaped. Mood and time become playthings to the creative in communion. No amount of verbiage can even approximate the joy of discovery gained on each through-listen, the wonder at time caged in a moment and moments caught in temporal flux. The recording is superb, as is expected on a Matchless release, but with headphones, there is something visceral in the bass drum that allows the illusion of being in the country church. From full-on swing and fire to the most delicate chamber music, Prevost and Butcher contemplate and propell each moment even as it is uncovered, fully justifying the disc’s evocative title.
–Marc Medwin
