Moment's Notice
Reviews of Recent Media
Satoko Fujii Tokyo Trio
Jet Black
Circum Libra 207
Kaze
Unwritten
577 5914
Trio San
Hibiki
Jazzdor Series 20
By this stage Fujii should be a known quantity, a prolific composer and improviser with over 100 leadership credits to her name, who has excelled in almost every conceivable format. Her sparkling discography encompasses everything from solo sessions to five separate orchestras as well as a host of established small groups and ongoing alliances maintained across the globe. While there are recurring ingredients in her work, like the cascading lines, the willful squalls, the canny pauses, lilting melodies, and urgent ostinatos, the sheer variety is staggering. Moreover, it’s impossible to second guess the trajectory, let alone the final destination, of any piece, especially when factoring in the adventurous flair of her and her colleagues. Fujii demonstrates time and again that she possesses the knack of crafting richly rewarding narrative and drama.
On Jet Black, Fujii debuts an edgy new trio completed by Tokyo-based bassist Takashi Sugawa and drummer Ittetsu Takemura, two band leaders in their own right. They bring an unruly attitude, even as they totally buy into the idiosyncratic universe demarcated by Fujii’s six charts. In the liners trumpeter Natsuki Tamura remarks on a tension between the notation and the improvisation. Both bass and drums adopt unlikely tactics which keep both listeners and bandmates on their toes. On “Along The Way,” Fujii breaks up a typically surging theme with breaks for each player. Ittetsu co-opts less anticipated timbres - skulking brushwork and volatile rat-a-tats, while Sugawa uses his spot for a string of tortuous arco creaks. Does the pianist accentuate the wayward aspects of her own playing more as a result? It sometimes seems that way as her abstract lines dissolve into a thrilling sequence of glisses and clusters on the stop start “Gentle Slope” and wax similarly errant elsewhere. Studio recording lets Fujii create a flow by programming some selections to follow on naturally from the conclusion of the previous, so the explosive flurries which open “Take A Step” ensue almost seamlessly from the spiky interplay of the preceding cut. The juxtaposition of improv sensibilities with more ordered elements is an alluring strategy which Fujii exploits to the full. Sugawa’s introductory solo to “Sky Reflection” is a rumbling sawing agglomeration of moans and groans from opposite ends of the fingerboard, which establish an off-putting ambience for the meditative bathos of what might pass as a ballad in any other setting. That track ends with a bowed whistle from the bass, which proves the perfect set up for Ittetsu’s extended scraped cymbal feature, which begins the insistent menace of “From Sometime.” Ultimately the trio convinces as one of Fujii’s most potent vehicles, which will hopefully endure as long as some of her other outfits.
Satoko Fujii © 2024 IJ Biermann
One such which has certainly exhibited stamina is the continuing collaboration, alongside longstanding partner Tamura, with French trumpeter Christian Pruvost and drummer Peter Orins which takes the name Kaze. While instances of collective gestation have appeared on other of the band’s seven outings since its inception in 2010, Unwritten is the first to dispense with scores entirely. It documents a 2023 concert from Lille in France which shows that a sense of form prevails even in the absence of scripts. That can be discerned at various scales. Pruvost begins the lengthy “Thirteen Years” with some of the sonic experimentation which is one of the unit’s calling cards, combining mechanical valve popping with breath in a stuttered pucker. Isolated key strikes and subtle zephyrs mingle with expressive murmurs from a muted Tamura and clattery punctuations from Orins, before Pruvost reprises his initial ploy, immediately generating shape. That’s just the beginning as the improvisation slowly unfurls, like an opening bud, into a series of episodes, one gradually supplanting another. But while the textures may change quickly, that whiff of intent manifests in the threads which link each passage, as each contains the kernel which helps beget the next. There is also a finely judged feel for when to move on, witness Fujii’s reiterated tolling arising during a subdued section of taps, rustles, and hums midway through or the clanking steel pan sonorities with which she undercuts a squeaky toy exchange between the brass. She later extemporizes a spurting riff which elevates the excitement levels and fuels yet more mayhem before an eventual wind down. Over the years it seems the two trumpeters have learnt from each other such that it’s harder to differentiate between them on disc. Both deploy noise and humor alongside the fanfares and sweetness and, as is the case for the entire group, they privilege development above individual blowing. That approach achieves its apogee in the 17-minute “We Waited.” Here Fujii sustains a mood of somber lyricism, with space emphasized as much as the actual notes, for the first ten minutes, despite the occasional crashing outburst. Even after Orins’ galloping cadences and demented muttering from the twin trumpets, when she rejoins with an onslaught of swelling tremolos, she is able to engineer a coming together which suggests a resolution to the inaugural gambit. The piece represents an inspired lesson in pulling satisfying structure from thin air, and one which signals a fertile future for Kaze too.
Percussion rules on Hibiki by the threesome of Fujii, Berlin-based vibraphonist Taiko Saito, and Strasbourg-based drummer Yuko Oshima, who go under the banner Trio San (three in Japanese), as if to highlight their obvious accord. Saito provides the connection, having previously worked in duo with both. Saito studied and performed in Tokyo with the great Keiko Abe and in Berlin with David Friedman, as well as pursuing her own ventures. With Fujii she is one half of Futari, which has two albums to its credit. Already one of the more ornery mounts in Fujii’s stable, Futari remains a creature where the love of sound for its own sake stands as the dominant trait. While that’s always formed part of Fujii’s artistic armory, engaging with Saito, one of the most free thinking mallet players around, underlines the tendency even more. The addition of Oshima, whose projects have included fellow drummer Hamid Drake and French pianist Eve Risser among others, does nothing to offset that inclination. The near hour-long set was recorded part way through a short European tour. It reveals a shared dynamic, affirmed by the diverse authorship of the six cuts: one by Oshima, two by Saito, and three by Fujii, which nonetheless often run into each other. Atmospheric numbers, like the drummer’s opening title track, with its bright flares of metallic resonance and dense shimmering crescendo, vie with more propulsive ideas, like Fujii’s “Soba,” where convoluted yet emphatic unisons part to allow unaccompanied slots for each. Oshima mixes forthright taiko-like bombast with little instrument coloration, while Saito utilizes every component of her instrument as a potential sound source. When Fujii enlists a panoply of striking tones derived from piano preparations, as she does on the enigmatic “What You See,” it particularly points up the percussive foundation of the ensemble. Even the written material hints at convergence, as both the mounting storm of Saito’s “Wa” with its slightly curdled hymn-like refrain and the vibraphonist’s driving set closer “Ichigo” could have emanated from Fujii’s pen. A sudden stop elicits rapturous applause, which would be an apt reception for all three of these discs.
–John Sharpe
