Marteau Rouge & Evan Parker

Live
in situ IS 242

Devoting more than 40 years to painstaking developing an individual style doesn’t mean that British tenor saxophonist Evan Parker eschews new challenges and collaborations. Live is notable however, because without altering his distinctive reed patterns, Parker manages to seamlessly match his contributions to those of Paris-based Marteau Rouge. And that’s without upsetting the perceptive strategies members of the trio have developed during their years together.

Consisting of guitarist Jean-François Pauvros, whose chiming runs and twanging licks often cleave the line between rock and improv, and given direction by the unflappable drummer Makoto Sato, with cymbal rasps and mercurial backbeats, this trio interaction is further cemented by the quivering sine waves from Jean-Marc Foussat’s synthesizer.

Despite separately titled tracks, the CD is actually a solid, nearly 80-minute performance. Parker makes one of his strongest interventions on “Cinq” where his circular-breathed slurs and harsh multiphonics adumbrates sweeping metallic clangs from Foussat and hammering reverb from Pauvros – with the clash finally upended by soothing hand drumming from Sato,

When the synthesizer player ups the ante in the climatic “Six, au temps des cerises” by patching discursive crowd mutterings and radio static in to the mix – as Sato whams, rolls and ruffs – Parker suavely operates on top of the extended intonation. In fact, his pitch vibrations and seconding honks are enough to mute the guitarist’s amp-distorted grinds and flanges, down-shifting the piece so that connective string snaps and reed slithers are prominent.

Rather than being the proverbial fifth wheel, Parker’s circular-breathed outbursts balance the three other parts of this red hammer for smoother – and no less notable – sonic movements.

-- Ken Waxman

-- For MusicWorks Issue #106

March 8, 2010

Irène Schweizer/Barry Guy, London Jazz Composers Orchestra

Radio Rondo
Intakt CD 158

Sometimes the best intention – plus a collection of exceptionally talented musicians – still doesn’t guarantee a perfectly balanced performance. Both piano soloist Irène Schweizer and the London Jazz Composers Orchestra (LJCO) discovered this during this live concert at the 2008 Schaffhauser Jazz Festival in Switzerland. While the 30-minute “Radio Rondo” was composed by LJCO leader Barry Guy as a special feature for the Swiss pianist, the subsequent performance was patchy, with unexpected sonic peaks and valleys often held together by sheer will.

Actually this CD somehow manages to paper over some of the creative synapses exposed tom the audience on that day – perhaps some seemingly missing parts live were only captured by the recording equipment. Still Radio Rondo is more notable as a reunion, after a decade hiatus, of the full 18-piece London-based LJCO, then as a major statement.

Perhaps it was the unfamiliar surroundings or foreshortened rehearsal time –

“close enough for jazz” as the expression goes – that worked against the performance. Schweitzer, after all, has often worked with the band, Guy and soloists such as soprano and tenor saxophonist Evan Parker in the past. Additionally some of new LJCO members – Swiss percussionist Lucas Niggli, American trumpeter Herb Robertson, tubaist Per Åke Holmlander and tenor and baritone saxophonist Mats Gustafsson – are also Guy associates in other projects.

Essentially “Radio Rondo” meanders between Schweizer’s kinetic harmonies and the varied and contrapuntal asides or foreground textures the orchestra provides. Initially exploding with a miasma of screaming bass, lowing reeds and rough percussion thumps, the composition appears to stop and start plus speed up and slow down as it unrolls, so that nearly every band members has his or her say as a soloist or as part of a section. Dawdling tuba rumbles and sharp violin slices are exposed above rattles, ruff, snaps and drags from the dual percussionists, for example. Or structured and layered machine-gun fire-like beats from Niggli and Paul Lytton introduce a double-counterpoint contest between shrilling trumpet blats – likely from Robertson – and tremolo trombone slurs – probably from Conrad Bauer. With the massed horn section punctuating the piano solos with polytonal riffs, Schweizer’s output encompasses high-frequency syncopation, darting pressure and note jumps plus an occasional Bebop-like run. As the wavering horn colors finally bond into an approximation of romantic ripostes, the piece concludes with restrained tinkles from Schweizer interspaced with brassy wah-wahs and pulsating reed work.

“Schaffhausen Concert”, the 15½-minute Schweizer solo which opens the CD displays her expected discursive movements more clearly. Encompassing methodical walking bass lines, hard cascading chords that ring with bell-like clarity and sprawl onto the wound bass strings in the piano’s bowels, it’s a defining performance, perhaps strengthened by the fact that it takes place in the city of her birth.

Committed fans and completists, interested in all the work of the pianist, the LJCO or both, may rate the session more highly. Intrinsically there’s nothing that wrong with the CD. It’s just that in the past both Schweizer and the LJCO have established such high standards that the listener expects a lot more.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Schaffhausen Concert 2. Radio Rondo

Personnel: Henry Lowther, Herb Robertson and Rich Laughlin (trumpets); Conrad Bauer, Johannes Bauer and Alan Tomlinson (trombones); Per Åke Holmlander (tuba); Trevor Watts (soprano and alto saxophones); Pete McPhail (alto saxophone); Evan Parker (soprano and tenor saxophones); Simon Picard (tenor saxophone); Mats Gustafsson (tenor and baritone saxophones); Irène Schweizer (piano); Phil Wachsmann (violin); Barry Guy and Barre Philips (basses); Paul Lytton (drums and percussion) and Lucas Niggli (percussion)

March 3, 2010

Evan Parker Electro-Acoustic Ensemble

The Moment’s Energy
ECM 2066

John Butcher Group

Somethingtobesaid

Weight of Wax WOW 02

Now that a large portion of improvised music is deliberately moving further away from its swing-blues roots and into an accommodation with New music, a few far-sighted so-called classical festivals have made a place for improvisers. Tellingly, both these captivating CDs featuring ensembles performing large-scale compositions by significant British saxophonists, were commissioned by the United Kingdom’s Huddersfield Contemporary Music Festival. More importantly, neither work is a jazz-classical cameo, but expansive enough to allow the composers’ ideas to be figuratively painted on a larger canvas, using an extended sonic palate.

Although Evan Parker, who sticks to soprano saxophone on The Moment’s Energy, and John Butcher, who plays tenor and soprano saxophones plus samples on Somethingtobesaid, are probably the U.K.’s best-known Free Music saxophonists, the range and organization of the other instruments here highlights their differing approach to orchestral creativity. The Moment’s Energy, for instance, is an electro-acoustic exploration and to this end six electronics-manipulators are part of the group, in addition to percussionist Paul Lytton and violinist Philipp Wachsmann – two long-time Parker associates – utilizing live electronics. On the acoustic side, Barcelona’s Agustí Fernández plays both acoustic and prepared piano; New York’s Ned Rothenberg clarinet and bass clarinet; and Peter Evans, another American, trumpet and piccolo trumpet.

Along with Parker, bassist Barry Guy and shô player Ko Ishikawa produce singular acoustic tones. But during the course of the suite, sound processing, sampling remixing and layering predominates, emanating from Lawrence Casserley’s signal processing instrument, Joel Ryan’s sampler and signal processor, Walter Prati’s computer processor plus the live electronics of Richard Barrett and Paul Obermayer – who perform as Furt – and the sound projection of Marco Vecchi.

Somethingtobesaid on the other hand is nearly all acoustic, despite Butcher’s pre-recordings, Thomas Lehn’s analog synthesizer, Adam Linson’s bass and electronics and Dieb13’s turntables. Performed live at Huddersfield, sonic pleasure derives from trying to decipher which pulses are created electronically and which are the product of sophisticated extended techniques from Chris Burn’s piano, John Edward’s bass, Clare Cooper’s harp and guzheng and Gino Robair’s percussion and so-called energized surfaces.

Energized is a fine overall description for the CD, consisting of one long improvisation/composition, since gestures encompassing rubs, scraps, shuffles, plinks and strokes – usually fortissimo and staccatissimo – are layered into the piece. From the very beginning unvarying synthesized and oscillated peeps and pumps – not to mention captured voice replayed from the turntable or pre-recordings – reflectively pulse alongside clipped and sul ponticello swipes, slaps and wood-rending sounds from the bassists and guzheng player, plus piano glissandi and buzzing reed partials and tongue slaps. Often the sonic tautness is such that when Butcher plays a few measures in the common saxophone range, backed by Edwards’ slap bass, the effect is as upsetting as if a Renaissance harlequin had made a brief appearance in a Sci-Fi tale.

Although a collective work, space is also made for individual expression that never quite become solos or duos in the traditional sense. Around the seventh track indicator, for example, Burn compresses choruses of cascading keyboard runs and sweeping portamento notes in order to harmonically face off with electronic pulses and voltage vibrations from Lehn’s synthesizer. Afterwards he abruptly pumps out some quasi-stride-piano runs to accompany Butcher’s quacking reed timbres.

Earlier Robair’s crashes, bangs, cymbal slaps and bell-pealing plus freight-train shrills and resonating vibraharp strokes break through the blurry sound field to challenge the super-fast dial-twisting, in-and-out-stop-start flutters, clangs and flanges from the turntable and synthesizer. His energized surfaces as well as Lehn’s ring-modulator-like whooshes also serve as backdrop for curt, sparrow-like sibilant tweets and caws from Butcher. Subsequent reed-biting vibrations hook up with clattering from hard objects placed on and swept aside from the piano strings plus echoing cymbal crashes

Whether involved in pumping counterpoint in front of dense signal-processed crackling or circular-breathing alongside tremolo piano runs, Butcher’s unshaken aplomb while playing directs than concentrates the layers chromatically. Finally the various pitches and tones complete the sound circle.

Mixing live and processed tracks, The Moment’s Energy – recorded one year earlier in Huddersfield as well – is no less notable. Neither is Parkers playing any less self-possessed and energizing. But the other acoustic instruments are prominent as well, slashing holes in the quivering electronic pulses for their instruments’ textures, without upsetting the electro-acoustic balance.

Moving through the sixth and seventh variations on “The Moment’s Energy”, for instance, Guy’s spiccato rubs and pops evolve in double counterpoint with Wachsmann’s sul ponticello scratches and squeaks. As the fiddler’s cumulative timbres roll from the strings, processing exposes parallel violin lines which double and intersect with Wachsmann’s live sweeps. Meanwhile as the vector changes, Guy’s plucks and wood shaking are mixed with equivalent electronic melodic pulses. Later, after triggering signal processing – that is so sophisticated that together with the piano and horns it creates a wide-screen-like cinemascope-like coloration – Evans slurs low-key grace notes and accelerating pitch-slides as fungible organ-like electronic tones pulse beneath him.

Shortly before that Fernández’s extended interlude mixes low-frequency keyboard pitter-patter with stopped and strummed internal string vibrations as clouds of humming electronics splutter beside him. Sailing along harmonically, the pianist also riffs and rustles the keys, the resulting sounds of which are accompanied by rubbed drum tops and cymbals from Lytton.

Fernández’s sparkling glissandi meld with growling and snorting electronic blurs plus variable pitches loop at the top of “The Moment’s Energy II”. But the other timbres soon recede as Rothenberg’s a capella vibrations on bass clarinet accede to flying tongue slaps and affiliated renal resonance. As the undercurrent of buzzing reverb and processed oscillations simmer, the clarinetist is briefly joined by diaphragm vibrato from Parker, and then Rothenberg moves forward with growls and smears alongside hissing, blurry electro pulses, a cascade of plucked stops from Wachsmann and Guy, as well as fleet glissandi from the pianist.

Already celebrated for his playing, the strength of Parker’s composition and presentation is confirmed on “Incandescent Clouds”, one of two tracks recorded live. Here, the staccato, polytonal interaction between bubbling electronics, piano patterning and clipped bass lines is no more or less vivid than what is played on the tracks that mix live improv and electronics.

One can only hope that Huddersfield will continue to commission magnificent larger-group creations such as these from committed improvisers. The first-class creations Butcher and Parker produce on these CDs confirm the wisdom of earlier initiatives.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Moment: 1. The Moment’s Energy I 2. The Moment’s Energy II 3. The Moment’s Energy III 4. The Moment’s Energy IV 5. The Moment’s Energy V 6. The Moment’s Energy VI 7. The Moment’s Energy VII 8. Incandescent Clouds

Personnel: Moment: Peter Evans (trumpet and piccolo trumpet); Ned Rothenberg (clarinet, bass clarinet and shakuhachi); Evan Parker (soprano saxophone); Ko Ishikawa (shô); Philipp Wachsmann (violin and live electronics); Agustí Fernández (piano and prepared piano); Barry Guy (bass); Paul Lytton (percussion and live electronics): Lawrence Casserley (signal processing instrument); Joel Ryan (sample and signal processing); Walter Prati (computer processing); Richard Barrett and Paul Obermayer (live electronics) and Marco Vecchi (sound)

Track Listing: Somethingtobesaid: 1. (08.14) 2. (07.47) 3. (05.26) 4. (09.48) 5. (06.36) 6. (06.01) 7. (02.14) 8. (09.07) 9. (04.12)

Personnel: Some: John Butcher (tenor and soprano saxophones and pre-recordings); Chris Burn (piano); Thomas Lehn (synthesizer); John Edwards (bass); Adam Linson (bass and electronics); Clare Cooper (harp and guzheng); Gino Robair (percussion) and Dieb 13 (turntables)

February 1, 2010

John Butcher Group

Somethingtobesaid
Weight of Wax WOW 02

Evan Parker Electro-Acoustic Ensemble

The Moment’s Energy

ECM 2066

Now that a large portion of improvised music is deliberately moving further away from its swing-blues roots and into an accommodation with New music, a few far-sighted so-called classical festivals have made a place for improvisers. Tellingly, both these captivating CDs featuring ensembles performing large-scale compositions by significant British saxophonists, were commissioned by the United Kingdom’s Huddersfield Contemporary Music Festival. More importantly, neither work is a jazz-classical cameo, but expansive enough to allow the composers’ ideas to be figuratively painted on a larger canvas, using an extended sonic palate.

Although Evan Parker, who sticks to soprano saxophone on The Moment’s Energy, and John Butcher, who plays tenor and soprano saxophones plus samples on Somethingtobesaid, are probably the U.K.’s best-known Free Music saxophonists, the range and organization of the other instruments here highlights their differing approach to orchestral creativity. The Moment’s Energy, for instance, is an electro-acoustic exploration and to this end six electronics-manipulators are part of the group, in addition to percussionist Paul Lytton and violinist Philipp Wachsmann – two long-time Parker associates – utilizing live electronics. On the acoustic side, Barcelona’s Agustí Fernández plays both acoustic and prepared piano; New York’s Ned Rothenberg clarinet and bass clarinet; and Peter Evans, another American, trumpet and piccolo trumpet.

Along with Parker, bassist Barry Guy and shô player Ko Ishikawa produce singular acoustic tones. But during the course of the suite, sound processing, sampling remixing and layering predominates, emanating from Lawrence Casserley’s signal processing instrument, Joel Ryan’s sampler and signal processor, Walter Prati’s computer processor plus the live electronics of Richard Barrett and Paul Obermayer – who perform as Furt – and the sound projection of Marco Vecchi.

Somethingtobesaid on the other hand is nearly all acoustic, despite Butcher’s pre-recordings, Thomas Lehn’s analog synthesizer, Adam Linson’s bass and electronics and Dieb13’s turntables. Performed live at Huddersfield, sonic pleasure derives from trying to decipher which pulses are created electronically and which are the product of sophisticated extended techniques from Chris Burn’s piano, John Edward’s bass, Clare Cooper’s harp and guzheng and Gino Robair’s percussion and so-called energized surfaces.

Energized is a fine overall description for the CD, consisting of one long improvisation/composition, since gestures encompassing rubs, scraps, shuffles, plinks and strokes – usually fortissimo and staccatissimo – are layered into the piece. From the very beginning unvarying synthesized and oscillated peeps and pumps – not to mention captured voice replayed from the turntable or pre-recordings – reflectively pulse alongside clipped and sul ponticello swipes, slaps and wood-rending sounds from the bassists and guzheng player, plus piano glissandi and buzzing reed partials and tongue slaps. Often the sonic tautness is such that when Butcher plays a few measures in the common saxophone range, backed by Edwards’ slap bass, the effect is as upsetting as if a Renaissance harlequin had made a brief appearance in a Sci-Fi tale.

Although a collective work, space is also made for individual expression that never quite become solos or duos in the traditional sense. Around the seventh track indicator, for example, Burn compresses choruses of cascading keyboard runs and sweeping portamento notes in order to harmonically face off with electronic pulses and voltage vibrations from Lehn’s synthesizer. Afterwards he abruptly pumps out some quasi-stride-piano runs to accompany Butcher’s quacking reed timbres.

Earlier Robair’s crashes, bangs, cymbal slaps and bell-pealing plus freight-train shrills and resonating vibraharp strokes break through the blurry sound field to challenge the super-fast dial-twisting, in-and-out-stop-start flutters, clangs and flanges from the turntable and synthesizer. His energized surfaces as well as Lehn’s ring-modulator-like whooshes also serve as backdrop for curt, sparrow-like sibilant tweets and caws from Butcher. Subsequent reed-biting vibrations hook up with clattering from hard objects placed on and swept aside from the piano strings plus echoing cymbal crashes

Whether involved in pumping counterpoint in front of dense signal-processed crackling or circular-breathing alongside tremolo piano runs, Butcher’s unshaken aplomb while playing directs than concentrates the layers chromatically. Finally the various pitches and tones complete the sound circle.

Mixing live and processed tracks, The Moment’s Energy – recorded one year earlier in Huddersfield as well – is no less notable. Neither is Parkers playing any less self-possessed and energizing. But the other acoustic instruments are prominent as well, slashing holes in the quivering electronic pulses for their instruments’ textures, without upsetting the electro-acoustic balance.

Moving through the sixth and seventh variations on “The Moment’s Energy”, for instance, Guy’s spiccato rubs and pops evolve in double counterpoint with Wachsmann’s sul ponticello scratches and squeaks. As the fiddler’s cumulative timbres roll from the strings, processing exposes parallel violin lines which double and intersect with Wachsmann’s live sweeps. Meanwhile as the vector changes, Guy’s plucks and wood shaking are mixed with equivalent electronic melodic pulses. Later, after triggering signal processing – that is so sophisticated that together with the piano and horns it creates a wide-screen-like cinemascope-like coloration – Evans slurs low-key grace notes and accelerating pitch-slides as fungible organ-like electronic tones pulse beneath him.

Shortly before that Fernández’s extended interlude mixes low-frequency keyboard pitter-patter with stopped and strummed internal string vibrations as clouds of humming electronics splutter beside him. Sailing along harmonically, the pianist also riffs and rustles the keys, the resulting sounds of which are accompanied by rubbed drum tops and cymbals from Lytton.

Fernández’s sparkling glissandi meld with growling and snorting electronic blurs plus variable pitches loop at the top of “The Moment’s Energy II”. But the other timbres soon recede as Rothenberg’s a capella vibrations on bass clarinet accede to flying tongue slaps and affiliated renal resonance. As the undercurrent of buzzing reverb and processed oscillations simmer, the clarinetist is briefly joined by diaphragm vibrato from Parker, and then Rothenberg moves forward with growls and smears alongside hissing, blurry electro pulses, a cascade of plucked stops from Wachsmann and Guy, as well as fleet glissandi from the pianist.

Already celebrated for his playing, the strength of Parker’s composition and presentation is confirmed on “Incandescent Clouds”, one of two tracks recorded live. Here, the staccato, polytonal interaction between bubbling electronics, piano patterning and clipped bass lines is no more or less vivid than what is played on the tracks that mix live improv and electronics.

One can only hope that Huddersfield will continue to commission magnificent larger-group creations such as these from committed improvisers. The first-class creations Butcher and Parker produce on these CDs confirm the wisdom of earlier initiatives.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Moment: 1. The Moment’s Energy I 2. The Moment’s Energy II 3. The Moment’s Energy III 4. The Moment’s Energy IV 5. The Moment’s Energy V 6. The Moment’s Energy VI 7. The Moment’s Energy VII 8. Incandescent Clouds

Personnel: Moment: Peter Evans (trumpet and piccolo trumpet); Ned Rothenberg (clarinet, bass clarinet and shakuhachi); Evan Parker (soprano saxophone); Ko Ishikawa (shô); Philipp Wachsmann (violin and live electronics); Agustí Fernández (piano and prepared piano); Barry Guy (bass); Paul Lytton (percussion and live electronics): Lawrence Casserley (signal processing instrument); Joel Ryan (sample and signal processing); Walter Prati (computer processing); Richard Barrett and Paul Obermayer (live electronics) and Marco Vecchi (sound)

Track Listing: Somethingtobesaid: 1. (08.14) 2. (07.47) 3. (05.26) 4. (09.48) 5. (06.36) 6. (06.01) 7. (02.14) 8. (09.07) 9. (04.12)

Personnel: Some: John Butcher (tenor and soprano saxophones and pre-recordings); Chris Burn (piano); Thomas Lehn (synthesizer); John Edwards (bass); Adam Linson (bass and electronics); Clare Cooper (harp and guzheng); Gino Robair (percussion) and Dieb 13 (turntables)

February 1, 2010

Music Outside, Contemporary Jazz in Britain

By Ian Carr
Northway Publications

Hindsight may be 20/20, but this reprint of Ian Carr’s 1973 classic Music Outside, reveals that he beats the law of averages. However, anything written 36 years ago resonates with the attitudes of the time. Some musicians who seemed significant then are more the province of nostalgia than admiration; others mentioned briefly are major figures.

Parenthetically that sense of being of one’s time makes Roger Cotterell’s contemporary postscript frustrating. While he does tie up loose ends and outlines the subsequent career of some musicians, a few are still ignored. His updates are also mostly personal anecdotes.

One can’t fault Cotterell for following the author’s lead. Opinions trump research throughout Music Outside. Flugelhornist Carr, a Miles Davis biographer, describes jazz as “… a music outside, a perpetual Cinderella of the arts in Britain”. This volume aimed to prove improvised music’s “cultural worth” by creating portraits of “those heroic few who … continue to be totally committed to the music”.

Versatility and virtuosity are cited along with commitment as considerations for making a difference. Today Mike Westbrook and Chris McGregor are still acknowledged as band leaders who redefined comfortable British jazz into something edgier. Saxophonists Evan Parker and Trevor Watts plus drummer John Stevens and guitarist Derek Bailey created distinctive free music, which continues to gain adherents. Thus Cottrell revealing that Carr once stated that “Derek and Evan – I like both of them very much but I’m not interested in their music at all,” proves Carr’s good intentions.

Carr’s treatment of Watts’ and Stevens’ Spontaneous Music Ensemble (SME) provides insight on the methodology that birthed British improvised music. He notes that the “development of the SME has been a gradual movement away from predetermined structures” and then describes how group improvisation works. Carr’s chapter on Parker deals with Incus Records, precursor of many experimental labels. “I don’t see the point of making a record for … CBS or RCA because when music like ours gets recorded only a minority audience is ready for it,” noted Parker. “But maybe when it’s been around for a year, a few more people are ready for it…but by that time a big company would have it deleted.” More than 35 years later, Parker’s actions seem foresighted and practical.

Carr’s prescient outline of experimenters’ triumphs and failings is balanced by chapters devoted to himself and drummer Jon Hiseman, who led commercially oriented fusion bands. Carr’s reminiscences about organizing the personnel of his group Nucleus, securing management and record deals plus working out crowd-drawing strategies, reads like a manual for launching a pop band. As he writes: “apart from prestige and the approval of posterity, there is also money to be made if one can establish that one is a true original.” Linkage of originality and monetary rewards clashes with his mention of pianist Stan Tracey, who because of his uncompromising talent was then “on the dole”, a situation Carr decries. Yet he doesn’t seem to notice that his game plan was the antithesis of what Tracey and others do.

Hiseman trotted out the argument that those who play “more accessible forms of the music would subsidize the more way-out forms and a natural balance would be found.” The abandonment of experimental music by mainstream outlets negates this theory. The drummer started his band Colosseum after touring with a Rock outfit because “I’d got used to …a big time way of life… where you play to large audiences. I couldn’t really face going back to playing in dreadful pubs to 40 people”. That Hiseman isn’t mentioned in the postscript, may say something about the fickleness of mass popularity.

Contrast this with Carr’s observation that “[Evan] Parker’s music is difficult but he is at pains to make people aware of it”. Then decide which interviewees’ musings and actions resonate almost four decades later.

-- Ken Waxman

-- MusicWorks Issue #104

August 8, 2009

Evan Parker Transatlantic Art Ensemble

Boustrophedon
ECM 1873

A rare – and exceptional – foray into partially scored and conducted music for British saxophonist Evan Parker, this eight-part work for a 14-piece ensemble realizes its lofty goals because the composed sections are cleverly counterbalanced by the improvisations.

Boustrophedon – an ancient word describing a method of writing one line from left to right, the subsequent one from right to left and so on – reflects the CD’s parallel methodology as well. While Parker directs a seven-piece group of experienced European improvisers, American saxophonist Roscoe Mitchell does the same with seven, equally proficient, Americans. Much of the boustrophedon movement involves comparable exposure from matched instrumentalists such as the two bassists, two percussionists and two fiddlers. Meanwhile singular soloists like pianist Craig Taborn, cellist Marcio Mattos or flutist Neil Metcalfe cleanly negotiate the fissure between Eurocentric and American-inflected Free Music. Taborn, for instance, adds styled glissandi, tinkling portamento story-telling and formalistic note clusters to “Furrow 2”, but metronomic rhythmic chording to “Furrow 4”.

That same track exposes parallel counterpoint involving liquid contralto trilling from John Rangecroft’s clarinet and the sibilant rasping of Corey Wilkes’ trumpet pitched high enough to resemble a piccolo trumpet. Reposing on cymbal clashes from Tani Tabbal and Paul Lytton, this calming interlude contrasts with the previous “Furrow 3”, which reached a rushed crescendo of piano clinks, tongue-stopped vamps from the reeds and blunt drags and rebounds from the percussionists. A similar episode of intersected tones from members of the ensemble characterizes the suite’s climax. Its defining cacophony shatters into sound shards that include dual piano syncopation, opposite sticking percussion ratamacues and splayed cello interjections.

Again emphasizing parallelism, the concluding track is more of a postlude than a finale, as solos, encompassing among other techniques, double-tongued, pastoral flute, kinetic keyboard arpeggios and thematic alto saxophone variations, alternate with tutti orchestral passages.

Overall this CD is a unique but a memorably rousing addition to Parker’s discography.

-- Ken Waxman

-- MusicWorks Issue #104

August 8, 2009

Jazz Brugge

Brugge, Belgium
October 2-October 5, 2008

Pianist Alexander Von Schlippenbach’s German quartet rolled through a set of Thelonious Monk compositions; Sardinians, saxophonist Sandro Satta and keyboardist Antonello Salis liberally quoted Charles Mingus lines during their incendiary set; Berlin-based pianist Aki Takase and saxophonist Silke Eberhard recast Ornette Coleman’s tunes; and the French Trio de Clarinettes ended its set with harmonies reminiscent of Duke Ellington’s writing for his reed section.

All these sounds and many more were highlighted during the fourth edition of Jazz Brugge, which takes place every second year in this tourist-favored Belgium city, about 88 kilometres from Brussels. But sonic homage and musical interpolations were only notable when part of a broader interpretation of improvised music. Other players in this four-day festival came from Italy, Spain, Switzerland, the Netherlands, Sweden, the United Kingdom, Hungary, Poland and Belgium. With strains of rock, New music and folklore informing the jazz presented at the festival’s three sonically impressive venues, music at the most notable concerts was completely unique or added to the tradition. The less-than-memorable sets were mired in past achievements or unworkable formulae

Aided by its intimate surroundings, noon-time concerts in the Groening Museum were a model of realized inspiration. Satta and Salis’ duo was particularly remarkable, especially when Salis attacked the piano keys and strings, partially answering the question: What would Cecil Taylor sound like if he was Sardinian?

Salis was no more Taylor, then Satta was Taylor’s saxophonist Jimmy Lyons, but this longstanding partnership created an individual sound. Conveyed on waves of pedal-pressure and low-slung glissandi from the pianist and the saxophonist’s open tone, which melded the delicacy of Paul Desmond and Earl Bostic’s wide vibrato with the split tones, altissimo squeaks and key slaps associated with Free Jazz, selections were as dense as they were lyrical. Salis’ piano produced minuet-reminiscent arpeggios as well as staccato honky-tonk striding. With Satta often cunningly manipulating blues nuances, both abstracted further timbres from their island heritage. Stretching the accordion bellows or hammering at its keypad, Salis foot-stamped and vocalized pseudo-Mediterranean shanties to emphasize further individuality.

Sicilian percussionist Francesco Branciamore showcased his version of tradition- extension a two days later with trombonist and tubaist Giancarlo Schiaffini and France’s Jean-Luc Cappozzo on trumpet and flugelhorn. Cappozzo, whose capabilities range from producing Gabriel-like triplets to breathing hand-muted mellow lines, worked in unison or contrapuntally with Schiaffini. Meantime the low-brass playing Roman moved beyond pedal-point accompaniment to unleash with the same facility, tailgate trombone braying gurgling, vocalized tuba lowing and shrill mouthpiece-only tootles. Branciamore advanced rhythm with wet finger tips slid across drum tops, hand-stopped cymbals, and wrapped up the performance with a Second Line-like backbeat. But that was after the percussionist shifted to the vibraharp for a four-mallet display of repetitive boppish beats, cushioned by Schiaffini’s feather-light tuba blares.

The reeds missing from this performance were present in earlier museum concerts from France’s Le Trio de Clarinettes and the duo of France’s Louis Sclavis on clarinets and soprano saxophone and Italian Francesco Bearzatti on tenor saxophone and clarinet.

Between them, Sylvain Kassap, Armand Angster and Jean-Marc Foltz played clarinets, bass clarinets and contrabass clarinets, frequently in triple counterpoint, other times with one producing a slurping ostinato as the others decorated his lines in lower-case accompaniment. Using circular breathing Foltz, for instance, created dual counter tones with himself. Meanwhile Kassap turned coughing and wheezing into his bass clarinet into shimmering echoes separated by chromatic honks. By the finale, the three moved from key-tapping and microtonal inferences to a replication – lead by Angster’s bass clarinet – of the sort of trio harmonies Ellington favored.

Similarly expressive, Bearzatti and Sclavis maintained a rhythmic cohesiveness as they introduced any number of ornamentations, running from jerky spittle-encrusted vibrations to blaring flutter-tonguing. On soprano saxophone Sclavis favored a flashy Sidney Bechet-style lyricism, while Bearzatti’s clarinet solos included jazzy, mid-range glissandi. Most impressive was a duet which joined shaky mouthpiece quacks as if from a chanter and basso pedal-point drones as if from bellows, to suggest insistent bagpipe-like undulations.

The duo’s performance was better realized than that of Sclavis’ Big Slam Napoli in the Concertgebouw, which matched the two reedists with a rhythm section and rapper Dgiz, who, despite hip-hopping from one side of the stage to the other, easily confirmed that rap-jazz admixtures are best left to performers from North America.

Similarly, French bassist Henri Texier’s sextet, while pumped full of Jazz Messengers-like energy resulting from a front line of trombone, baritone and alto saxophone, mired itself in crunching funk. Relatively faceless in execution, except for the profoundly resonating solos of the leader, the presentation lost its mooring when the band’s drummer was given free rein to unleash the sort of showy pounding firmly moored in Hard Rock.

Branciamore’s percussion facility was more germane to improvised music as were the work of three drummers associated with both bands involving British bassist Barry Guy. Swede Raymond Strid and Briton Paul Lytton guided the 10-piece Barry Guy New Orchestra (BGNO) without beat bluster, while earlier in the evening in the Concertgebouw’s Kamermuziekzaal, Spaniard Ramón López unveiled a similar low-key strategy playing with Agusti Fernández, BGNO’s Barcelona-based pianist, and Guy. Turning the classic jazz piano trio on its head, López’s Iberian rhythms, often expressed with vibrated bells, a sound tree, a triangle and ratchets, defined the tunes. Meanwhile Guy used a short stick plus his bow to hew unexpected stressed chords from his strings as well as plucking animated arpeggios. With Catalan-styled voicing periodically demanding he stretch crab-like across the keys, Fernández outlined clipped and insistent chording to steer the pieces astride the jazz tradition.

Filled out with a EU impov whose’s who – baritone saxophonist Mats Gustafsson and tubaist Per Åke Holmlander from Sweden, German trombonist Johannes Bauer, British saxophonist Evan Parker, Swiss clarinetist Hans Koch and one American – trumpeter Herb Robertson – the BGNO was an object lesson in showcasing individual improvisations within a notated score. Conducting as he played, Guy sometimes directed the reed and horn sections to cross pollinate each other’s cumulative vamps in canon fashion. Then it was his own forceful string twangs, Fernández’s targeted slides and pumps plus vibrating cymbal color and unexpected tutti crescendos that provided the performance’s bonding musical glue.

Interjecting individual theme variations were, among others, Parker’s flutter tonguing and chirping tenor saxophone, Koch’s wispy scene-setting bass clarinet puffs and blistering triplets from Robertson. Throbbing on top of a configuration of bass clarinet, tuba and baritone saxophone, the piece reached its climax following diminishing drum beats and hunting-horn-like yodels from the trombone. Heraldic trumpet tattoos and low-pitched piano lines signaled tension release and conclusion.

One reason the BGNO performance was satisfying was because players created variations on a previously recorded Guy orchestration. Mutating familiarized themes in another fashion was less notably expressed by Von Schlippenbach’s Monk’s Casino band and Takase and Eberhard’s Ornette Coleman Anthology set. Although bass clarinetist Rudi Mahall fused exuberant altissimo and split tone playing with the ability to duck walk across the stage; and trumpeter Axel Dörner fused triplest and a blues tonality in his solos impresssiverly, overall the Von Schlippenbach four crammed too many 78-rpm-length Monk themes into the set that would have lost focus if not for the powerful walking bass of Jan Roder. Similarly the Takase/Eberhard duo substituted Coleman’s innate quirkiness for readings that straightjacketed the alto man’s tunes into standard head-variation-solo-recap formula. It felt as if the two bands presented the Classic Comics or Reader’s Digest version of advanced jazz.

All and all though, Jazz Brugge’s pluses overwhelmed its minuses, setting up high expectations for 2010’s fest.

-- Ken Waxman

-- MusicWorks Issue #103

March 28, 2009

Angeli/Parker/Rothenberg

Free Zone Appleby 2007
psi 08.04

Charting the obscured relationship between traditional and improvised music, three sound explorers from different countries use extended techniques and careful listening to unearth a seldom-explored trajectory to this territory.

Although not one could be defined as a folk musician, American alto saxophonist and clarinetist Ned Rothenberg re-orients the unique sounds of the Japanese shakuiachi for improvised ends; Paolo Angeli adapts the cello-sized, multi-string guitar of his native Sardinia with preparation, extra bridges and electronics; and British saxophonist Evan Parker has at times meshed his playing with contributions from tradition-stylists such as an Italian brass band and a Tuvan throat singer.

Although there are intimations of this admixture in the earlier Parker/Rothenberg and Rothenberg-Angeli duets, Free Zone’s most notable statements arise in the musicians’ six duos. Here the defining track is “Shield (Blue) Trio 4”, which seems to bring every one of their instruments and attachments into play.

Stropping abrasions from the guitarist mix it up with disconnected, arching and reverberating reed textures from both horn men. As the reedists produce contrapuntal volleys and thrusts, Angeli’s legato stings and plucks are joined by snatches of commentary and string orchestra pulses from an appended radio broadcast. Carving out a role as ambient sounds, these electronic-captured interjections provide pointed commentary on the shriveling and scattered reed bites from Parker’s tenor saxophone and Rothenberg’s bass clarinet. Additionally, a bonding ostinato is produced alternately arco or pizzicato since Angeli’s over-sized and prepared instrument is fitted with additional strings that can be bowed as others are picked.

Electronics also brings out suggestions of a third reed which complements or intensifies the program on certain tracks here. Elsewhere, rasgueado guitar runs meet soprano saxophone peeps and cries as clarinet ornamentation completes the trio interface. In other spots, sul ponticello sweeps and strokes on the balanced strings of the Sardinian guitar are followed by Angeli replicating drum-like paradiddles and slaps on his instrument’s wood. One horn man pushes circular breathing to quacking innuendo, while the other slurs and flutter-tongues.

Eventually with “Shield (Blue) Trio 6”, the trio reaches a climax of sorts. Here masses of reed split tone and multiphonics gradually pile on top of one another, until the piping staccato rhythms from Parker’s bond with pointillist jabs of moderato vibrations from Rothenberg. Operating in double counterpoint, the reedists take turns exposing discordant, whistling tones, which are met first by splattered guitar licks and eventually by sul tasto sweeps from Angeli.

Put your so-called World Music preconceptions aside and listen to this session. Divorced from cant and the fetishism of authenticity, this may be how a variation of so-called traditional music will sound in the future.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Shield (Blue) Duo 1 2. Shield (Blue) Duo 2 3. Shield (Blue) Trio 1 4. Shield (Blue) Trio 2 5. Shield (Blue) Trio 3 6. Shield (Blue) Trio 4 7. Shield (Blue) Trio 5 8. Shield (Blue) Trio 6

Personnel: Evan Parker (soprano and tenor saxophones); Ned Rothenberg (alto saxophone, clarinet and bass clarinet) and Paolo Angeli (Sardinian guitar and electronics)

February 13, 2009

London & Glasgow Improvisers Orchestras

Separately & Together
Emanem 4219

London Improvisers Orchestra

Improvisations for George Riste

psi 08.06

Successfully guiding free-form improvisations and conductions utilizing the talents of independent musicians in a large orchestra is a challenge; trying to do the same with two outsized improvising ensembles can be foolhardy. Yet that memorable experiment is captured on Separately & Together, a two-CD record of a 2007 meeting between London’s 27-piece Improvisers Orchestra and Glasgow’s 17-piece Improvisers Orchestra. Separate sets by both bands are also featured.

Improvisations for George Riste is another notable achievement, since it gathers together four extended non-conducted improvisations from the London Improvisers Orchestra (LIO), recorded in different configurations during 2003, plus one from 2007.

Subscribing to an antithetical set of dynamic, rhythmic, tonal and sonic considerations despite their numbers, there’s no way this combination of the LIO and the Glasgow Improvisers Orchestra (GIO) creates a cumulative sound close to jazz’s most famous orchestral meeting: that of Count Basie’s and Duke Ellington’s big bands.

Despite intermixing both bands’ players the immediacy of individual performers is still as evident as it would be in solo flights from any Basie or Ellington bandsmen. For instance “1+1=Different”, which is built on an undertow and nearly physical feel of percussion rattling and thumping, the surging performance maintains its distinct character due to individual players’ strategies. Punctuating the massed drones, pauses and tutti cries among ever-shifting orchestral color fields, are spiraling saxophone spurts and rubato braying from the trumpets; Veryan Weston’s vertical, low-frequency piano chording that keeps the surging line from dissolving into stasis; plus Jackie Walduck’s vibraphone splashes; and a series of flute chirps from Emma Roche and Matthew Studdert-Kennedy that maintain legato formalism.

Meanwhile Catherine Pluygers’ keening oboe sets up the gradual introduction of vamps from the brass, which serve as connective tissue between three percussionists’ marital beats and distorted waves from three guitars, bouzouki, five violins and three celli. As distending string squirms and aviary-pitched reed breaths coalesce, Evan Parker’s elongated tenor saxophone line signals this conduction’s completion.

On its own, the smaller GIO defines itself as the equivalent of the rough-and-ready Basie Band in comparison to the LIO’s stately Ellington-like near-formalism. Whistling brass flutters, thick bass clarinet splatters and an overlay of sibilant flute pressure characterize the GIO’s performances, especially “Seven Sisters (for Barry Guy)”. Evolving from andante exposition to adagio summation, the orchestral coloration makes room for raucous alto saxophone blurts from Raymond MacDonald and fierce triplet exultation from trumpeter Robert Henderson, along with squeezed vocal lines courtesy of Aileen Campbell. Arriving at pseudo-Impressionism, the composition’s sonic tinctures change color gradually, as first one sound than another leeches from the performance like air leaking from a balloon – with the ending built around an assembly of gradually accelerating cello slices from Peter Nicholson.

Playing on its own, the LIO demonstrates how a nine-person string section, two electric guitars and unexpected instruments such as oboe and bamboo pipes can be used for jagged pitch-sliding and solo elaboration as well as scene-setting. Throughout, as the group alternates crescendos and decrescendos of cumulative group improvisation and individual solos, the idea remains that like some of Ellington’s work, the LIO’s overriding impulse is to highlight unique instrumental settings rather than insisting on scene-stopping dramatic statements. That said, most of the improvisations and conductions take full advantage of most of the instruments’ full ranges to add three- dimensional effects to any track’s overall grisaille. For instance John Rangecroft’s high-pitched clarinet glissandi is matched up against, and contrasted with, ratcheting vibraphone blows from Walduck.

Violinist Phil Wachsmann’s conduction, “On the Point of Influence” and the improvisation that precede it demonstrate how any LIO performance can be orchestral and scene-setting as well as contrapuntal, with mercurial solo edging. Layering stratum of instrumental color on top of one another, the piece quickly puts aside a cacophony of pulled, puffed and brayed horn timbres for more lyrical tone extensions. Saxophone obbligatos and heraldic horn parts operate in broken-octave congruence with one another, while sudden rubato trombone plunges from Robert Jarvis feed off an overlay of vibraphone notes and kinetic piano lines. With a wide spread of pizzicato and arco string chords, the ability exists to highlight sul ponticello roughness, traditional walking bass lines from David Leahy and Dominic Lash plus a final mournful cello extro. Further contrast arrives in a coda of brassy flourishes and clattering and popping rebounds from the percussionist.

Four years earlier, different manifestation of the LIO, numbering from 17 to 20 pieces, put together the tracks collected on Improvisations for George Riste. In a transatlantic version of CanCon, the title(s) celebrate then tenacity of Vancouver’s Riste, who refused to sell his 30-room downtown hotel to B.C. Hydro, despite the fact that the giant entity owned all the adjacent property and wanted to build an office tower there. Riste’s reason was altruism; his hotel provided clean, affordable rooms for locals.

Metaphorically it’s Riste’s individuality rather than his altruism that’s celebrated on this disc, since the performances give free reign to committed playing from a clutch of London-based improvisers. “Improvisations for George Riste 4” for instance – which was actually recorded one month after Separately & Together – suggests some of the late John Stevens’ work with expanded versions of the Spontaneous Musical Ensemble. While individuals and sections move to the forefront, never is the expected separation between soloist and backing ensemble emphasized.

Using contrapuntal bridges and broken-octave connections, the idea is to operate on a vector, working polyphonic variants into a cumulative and cooperative formula. A smaller string section of two violins and two celli sound both legato pitch-sliding and sul ponticello chords; twittering, balloon-like huffs from the four brass players ping-pong back-and-forth; while the four percussion-like instruments link ratamacues and drags into an unvarying bedrock crunch. Even tongue-slaps from one or more of the five reed players and braying trumpet blurts merely add to the sfumato tinctures. Eventually guitar lick distortions from John Bisset and Dave Tucker, plus feathery flute vibrations from Neil Metcalfe help cement the interface.

Similarly, “Improvisations for George Riste 1” proves that despite what in other circumstances could be attention-drawing cross-pulsed reed cries, sobs and gasps from the like of Parker, John Butcher, Lol Coxhill and Caroline Kraabel, the improvisation remains low-key and pianissimo. This time the polyphony is thick, but it isn’t so blanketing that individual contributions – ranging from Amy Denio’s sluicing accordion vibrations, Metcalfe’s piercing flute shrills and cumulative warbling reed swells – aren’t obvious.

Anyone interested in hearing 21st Century variations on orchestral improvisations would be wise to investigate these CDs.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Improvisations: 1. Improvisations for George Riste 1 2. Improvisations for George Riste 2 3. Improvisations for George Riste 3 4. Improvisations for George Riste 4

Personnel: Improvisations: 1: Roland Ramanan (trumpet and wooden flute); Ian Smith (trumpet); Neil Metcalfe (flute); John Rangecroft (clarinet); Harrison Smith (bass clarinet); Lol Coxhill and Evan Parker (soprano saxophone); Adrian Northover (soprano and alto saxophones); Caroline Kraabel (alto saxophone); John Butcher (tenor saxophone); Philipp Wachsmann (violin); Charlotte Hug (viola); B. J. Cole (pedal steel guitar); Steve Beresford (piano); Amy Denio (accordion and voice); David Leahy (bass); Tony Marsh (percussion); Orphy Robinson (percussion and electronics); Knut Aufermann (electronics) and Filomena Campus (voice) 2: Harry Beckett, Guillermo Torres and Ramanan (trumpet); Robert Jarvis (trombone); Catherine Pluygers (oboe); Rangecroft; Jacques Foschia and Harrison Smith (bass clarinet); Coxhill and Adrian Northover (soprano saxophone); Sylvia Hallett and Wachsmann (violin); Beresford; Dave Tucker (guitar); Marcio Mattos (cello); Simon H Fell and Leahy (bass); Marsh; Adam Bohman (amplified objects) and Aufermann 3: Beckett; Smith; Guillermo Torres (flugelhorn); Jarvis; Parker; Northover and Kraabel (alto saxophone); Susanna Ferrar (violin); Fell; Tucker; Beresford; Annie Lewandowski (accordion and musical saw); Marsh; Bohman; Aufermann and Pat Thomas (electronics) 4: Smith; Metcalfe; Rangecroft Chefa Alonso, Coxhill and Northover (soprano saxophone); Simon Rose (alto saxophone); Ferrar; Ivor Kallin (violin and viola); Mattos and Barbara Meyer (cello); John Bisset and Tucker (guitar); Beresford; Jackie Walduck (vibraphone); Javier Carmona and Marsh (percussion) and Bohman

Track Listing: Separately: CD A: Impro intro 2. On the Point of Influence 3. PW to AW 4. Study for Oppy Wood 5. AW to AB 6. Hive Life 7. Too late, too late, it’s Ever so Late 8. Seven Sisters (for Barry Guy) 9. Stagione CD B: 1. Big Ideas, Images and Distorted facts 2. 811 joint response 3. 1+1=different 4. Outlaw

Personnel: Separately: London Improvisers Orchestra [Beckett, Ramanan, Smith (trumpet); Jarvis (trombone); Pluygers (oboe); Terry Day (bamboo pipes); Rangecroft (clarinet); Alonso, Coxhill, Northover (soprano saxophone); Kraabel (alto saxophone); Parker (tenor saxophone); Alison Blunt, Ferrar, Hallett, Wachsmann (violin); Kallin (violin, viola); Hannah Marshall, Mattos, Meyer (cello); Veryan Weston (piano); Bisset, Tucker (guitar); Walduck, (vibraphone); Leahy and Dominic Lash (bass);Carmona (percussion)] and Glasgow Improvisers Orchestra [Matthew Cairns, Robert Henderson (trumpet); George Murray (trombone); Emma Roche, Matthew Studdert-Kennedy (flute); John Burgess (bass clarinet); Raymond MacDonald (alto saxophone); Graeme Wilson (baritone saxophone; George Burt, Neil Davidson (guitar); Chris Hladowski (bouzouki); Peter Nicholson, cello; Una MacGlone, Armin Sturm (bass); Rick Bamford, Stuart Brown, percussion] and Aileen Campbell (voice)

December 18, 2008

London Improvisers Orchestra

Improvisations for George Riste
psi 08.06

London & Glasgow Improvisers Orchestras

Separately & Together

Emanem 4219

Successfully guiding free-form improvisations and conductions utilizing the talents of independent musicians in a large orchestra is a challenge; trying to do the same with two outsized improvising ensembles can be foolhardy. Yet that memorable experiment is captured on Separately & Together, a two-CD record of a 2007 meeting between London’s 27-piece Improvisers Orchestra and Glasgow’s 17-piece Improvisers Orchestra. Separate sets by both bands are also featured.

Improvisations for George Riste is another notable achievement, since it gathers together four extended non-conducted improvisations from the London Improvisers Orchestra (LIO), recorded in different configurations during 2003, plus one from 2007.

Subscribing to an antithetical set of dynamic, rhythmic, tonal and sonic considerations despite their numbers, there’s no way this combination of the LIO and the Glasgow Improvisers Orchestra (GIO) creates a cumulative sound close to jazz’s most famous orchestral meeting: that of Count Basie’s and Duke Ellington’s big bands.

Despite intermixing both bands’ players the immediacy of individual performers is still as evident as it would be in solo flights from any Basie or Ellington bandsmen. For instance “1+1=Different”, which is built on an undertow and nearly physical feel of percussion rattling and thumping, the surging performance maintains its distinct character due to individual players’ strategies. Punctuating the massed drones, pauses and tutti cries among ever-shifting orchestral color fields, are spiraling saxophone spurts and rubato braying from the trumpets; Veryan Weston’s vertical, low-frequency piano chording that keeps the surging line from dissolving into stasis; plus Jackie Walduck’s vibraphone splashes; and a series of flute chirps from Emma Roche and Matthew Studdert-Kennedy that maintain legato formalism.

Meanwhile Catherine Pluygers’ keening oboe sets up the gradual introduction of vamps from the brass, which serve as connective tissue between three percussionists’ marital beats and distorted waves from three guitars, bouzouki, five violins and three celli. As distending string squirms and aviary-pitched reed breaths coalesce, Evan Parker’s elongated tenor saxophone line signals this conduction’s completion.

On its own, the smaller GIO defines itself as the equivalent of the rough-and-ready Basie Band in comparison to the LIO’s stately Ellington-like near-formalism. Whistling brass flutters, thick bass clarinet splatters and an overlay of sibilant flute pressure characterize the GIO’s performances, especially “Seven Sisters (for Barry Guy)”. Evolving from andante exposition to adagio summation, the orchestral coloration makes room for raucous alto saxophone blurts from Raymond MacDonald and fierce triplet exultation from trumpeter Robert Henderson, along with squeezed vocal lines courtesy of Aileen Campbell. Arriving at pseudo-Impressionism, the composition’s sonic tinctures change color gradually, as first one sound than another leeches from the performance like air leaking from a balloon – with the ending built around an assembly of gradually accelerating cello slices from Peter Nicholson.

Playing on its own, the LIO demonstrates how a nine-person string section, two electric guitars and unexpected instruments such as oboe and bamboo pipes can be used for jagged pitch-sliding and solo elaboration as well as scene-setting. Throughout, as the group alternates crescendos and decrescendos of cumulative group improvisation and individual solos, the idea remains that like some of Ellington’s work, the LIO’s overriding impulse is to highlight unique instrumental settings rather than insisting on scene-stopping dramatic statements. That said, most of the improvisations and conductions take full advantage of most of the instruments’ full ranges to add three- dimensional effects to any track’s overall grisaille. For instance John Rangecroft’s high-pitched clarinet glissandi is matched up against, and contrasted with, ratcheting vibraphone blows from Walduck.

Violinist Phil Wachsmann’s conduction, “On the Point of Influence” and the improvisation that precede it demonstrate how any LIO performance can be orchestral and scene-setting as well as contrapuntal, with mercurial solo edging. Layering stratum of instrumental color on top of one another, the piece quickly puts aside a cacophony of pulled, puffed and brayed horn timbres for more lyrical tone extensions. Saxophone obbligatos and heraldic horn parts operate in broken-octave congruence with one another, while sudden rubato trombone plunges from Robert Jarvis feed off an overlay of vibraphone notes and kinetic piano lines. With a wide spread of pizzicato and arco string chords, the ability exists to highlight sul ponticello roughness, traditional walking bass lines from David Leahy and Dominic Lash plus a final mournful cello extro. Further contrast arrives in a coda of brassy flourishes and clattering and popping rebounds from the percussionist.

Four years earlier, different manifestation of the LIO, numbering from 17 to 20 pieces, put together the tracks collected on Improvisations for George Riste. In a transatlantic version of CanCon, the title(s) celebrate then tenacity of Vancouver’s Riste, who refused to sell his 30-room downtown hotel to B.C. Hydro, despite the fact that the giant entity owned all the adjacent property and wanted to build an office tower there. Riste’s reason was altruism; his hotel provided clean, affordable rooms for locals.

Metaphorically it’s Riste’s individuality rather than his altruism that’s celebrated on this disc, since the performances give free reign to committed playing from a clutch of London-based improvisers. “Improvisations for George Riste 4” for instance – which was actually recorded one month after Separately & Together – suggests some of the late John Stevens’ work with expanded versions of the Spontaneous Musical Ensemble. While individuals and sections move to the forefront, never is the expected separation between soloist and backing ensemble emphasized.

Using contrapuntal bridges and broken-octave connections, the idea is to operate on a vector, working polyphonic variants into a cumulative and cooperative formula. A smaller string section of two violins and two celli sound both legato pitch-sliding and sul ponticello chords; twittering, balloon-like huffs from the four brass players ping-pong back-and-forth; while the four percussion-like instruments link ratamacues and drags into an unvarying bedrock crunch. Even tongue-slaps from one or more of the five reed players and braying trumpet blurts merely add to the sfumato tinctures. Eventually guitar lick distortions from John Bisset and Dave Tucker, plus feathery flute vibrations from Neil Metcalfe help cement the interface.

Similarly, “Improvisations for George Riste 1” proves that despite what in other circumstances could be attention-drawing cross-pulsed reed cries, sobs and gasps from the like of Parker, John Butcher, Lol Coxill and Caroline Kraabel, the improvisation remains low-key and pianissimo. This time the polyphony is thick, but it isn’t so blanketing that individual contributions – ranging from Amy Denio’s sluicing accordion vibrations, Metcalfe’s piercing flute shrills and cumulative warbling reed swells – aren’t obvious.

Anyone interested in hearing 21st Century variations on orchestral improvisations would be wise to investigate these CDs.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Improvisations: 1. Improvisations for George Riste 1 2. Improvisations for George Riste 2 3. Improvisations for George Riste 3 4. Improvisations for George Riste 4

Personnel: Improvisations: 1: Roland Ramanan (trumpet and wooden flute); Ian Smith (trumpet); Neil Metcalfe (flute); John Rangecroft (clarinet); Harrison Smith (bass clarinet); Lol Coxhill and Evan Parker (soprano saxophone); Adrian Northover (soprano and alto saxophones); Caroline Kraabel (alto saxophone); John Butcher (tenor saxophone); Philipp Wachsmann (violin); Charlotte Hug (viola); B. J. Cole (pedal steel guitar); Steve Beresford (piano); Amy Denio (accordion and voice); David Leahy (bass); Tony Marsh (percussion); Orphy Robinson (percussion and electronics); Knut Aufermann (electronics) and Filomena Campus (voice) 2: Harry Beckett, Guillermo Torres and Ramanan (trumpet); Robert Jarvis (trombone); Catherine Pluygers (oboe); Rangecroft; Jacques Foschia and Harrison Smith (bass clarinet); Coxhill and Adrian Northover (soprano saxophone); Sylvia Hallett and Wachsmann (violin); Beresford; Dave Tucker (guitar); Marcio Mattos (cello); Simon H Fell and Leahy (bass); Marsh; Adam Bohman (amplified objects) and Aufermann 3: Beckett; Smith; Guillermo Torres (flugelhorn); Jarvis; Parker; Northover and Kraabel (alto saxophone); Susanna Ferrar (violin); Fell; Tucker; Beresford; Annie Lewandowski (accordion and musical saw); Marsh; Bohman; Aufermann and Pat Thomas (electronics) 4: Smith; Metcalfe; Rangecroft Chefa Alonso, Coxhill and Northover (soprano saxophone); Simon Rose (alto saxophone); Ferrar; Ivor Kallin (violin and viola); Mattos and Barbara Meyer (cello); John Bisset and Tucker (guitar); Beresford; Jackie Walduck (vibraphone); Javier Carmona and Marsh (percussion) and Bohman

Track Listing: Separately: CD A: Impro intro 2. On the Point of Influence 3. PW to AW 4. Study for Oppy Wood 5. AW to AB 6. Hive Life 7. Too late, too late, it’s Ever so Late 8. Seven Sisters (for Barry Guy) 9. Stagione CD B: 1. Big Ideas, Images and Distorted facts 2. 811 joint response 3. 1+1=different 4. Outlaw

Personnel: Separately: London Improvisers Orchestra [Beckett, Ramanan, Smith (trumpet); Jarvis (trombone); Pluygers (oboe); Terry Day (bamboo pipes); Rangecroft (clarinet); Alonso, Coxhill, Northover (soprano saxophone); Kraabel (alto saxophone); Parker (tenor saxophone); Alison Blunt, Ferrar, Hallett, Wachsmann (violin); Kallin (violin, viola); Hannah Marshall, Mattos, Meyer (cello); Veryan Weston (piano); Bisset, Tucker (guitar); Walduck, (vibraphone); Leahy and Dominic Lash (bass);Carmona (percussion)] and Glasgow Improvisers Orchestra [Matthew Cairns, Robert Henderson (trumpet); George Murray (trombone); Emma Roche, Matthew Studdert-Kennedy (flute); John Burgess (bass clarinet); Raymond MacDonald (alto saxophone); Graeme Wilson (baritone saxophone; George Burt, Neil Davidson (guitar); Chris Hladowski (bouzouki); Peter Nicholson, cello; Una MacGlone, Armin Sturm (bass); Rick Bamford, Stuart Brown, percussion] and Aileen Campbell (voice)

December 18, 2008

Alexander Von Schlippenbach-Globe Unity Orchestra

Globe Unity - 40 Years
Intakt CD 133

Schlippenbach Trio

Gold Is Where You Find It

Intakt CD 143

More than 70 years old, pianist Alexander von Schlippenbach is one more proof of Steve Lacy’s adage that “free jazz keeps you young”. A professional musician since 1962, Berlin-based Schlippenbach has maintained his level of creativity in various contexts, most prominently in the trans-European Globe Unity Orchestra (GUO) and his trio with saxophonist Evan Parker and drummer Paul Lovens.

Consistency may be another attribute of quality as well as metaphoric youthfulness, since these CDs – one celebrating the GUO’s 40th birthday and the other recorded in the year of the Schlippenbach Trio (ST)’s 35th anniversary – confirm that the pianist and his associates are still on top of their game(s).

Taking them one by one, death and disagreements have taken their toll on the GUO’s personnel, but the 15-piece aggregation – sans bass player like the ST – holds to the high standards set by its predecessors. Mixing older compositions with newer pieces, such as the pianist-composed title track, solo space is given to every band member, who range from GU veterans such as trumpeter Kenny Wheeler and multi-reedist Gerd Dudek to newbies such as American trombonist Jeb Bishop and French trumpeter/flugelhornist Jean-Luc Capozzo.

Some of tracks are practically bagatelles, with the real meat in the more lengthy explorations. Still there is period charm in the rhythmic punctuation, complete with screaming high-note trumpet lines – likely from Capozzo – that enliven “Bavarian Calypso”’s cacophonous polyphony. Plus “Nodago”, a reflective showcase for Wheeler, who composed it, proves that the old Woody Herman-Stan Kenton-style big band backing can be legit. Nonetheless, the late British trombonist Paul Rutherford manages to counter nostalgia here with a burbling multiphonic solo that contrasts contralto and basso tones.

A close cousin to the calypso is Steve Lacy’s “The Dumps”. Thelonious Monk-like in its interpretation it features oomph-pah-pah brass, slithering reed timbres and high-frequency rolling chording from Schlippenbach. Here Dudek expels a continuously breathed circular soprano saxophone solo with more grit than Parker brings to similar outputs. Bishop’s slippery slide positions and tongued pressure layer the backing along with Capozzo’s mouse squeaks and behind-the-beat grace notes, which are given further impetus by Lovens’ cymbal spanks and rim shots. In contrast, Dörner’s concluding knitted capillary tones appear to leech sound as much from metal stress and throat scraping as from what is pushed through the bell.

Another showcase, Wilem Breuker’s “Out of Burtons Songbooks”, from 1973, makes obvious the GU’s early style-spanning. The processional piano introduction could have been lifted from a chamber recital, while Schlippenbach’s subsequent exchanges with Dudek outline the sort of interdependent dissonance that seems a lot closer to Joe Henderson’s and Herbie Hancock’s work for Blue Note, then contemporary European experimentation. In-the-moment interface is thus left to Bishop and bass clarinetist Rudi Mahall’s whack-a-mole-like duet, where smears, vibratos and trills in all registers are immediately answered and intensified.

Still the GU’s 21st Century identity is made clearest on the pianist’s title composition. Fabricating the piece from drum pops, brass plunger tones, slurred reed chirps, zig-zag trumpeting and irregular triplets from the piano, serendipitously its resolution involves members of the ST. Schlippenbach is appropriately staccato and cross-handed in his playing; Lovens wallops cracks, drags and crashes his percussion; while Parker unleashes hummingbird-swift sliding, slurping and triple tonguing. Trombonist George Lewis’ side-to-side slurs and doubled tongue flutters extend the line still further.

Gold Is Where You Find It’s title tune provides an equivalently definitive description of the 21st Century ST. Coupled with the subsequent “K. SP”, it exposes the trio strategy of tick-tock wooden drags and positioned licks plus cymbal pops from Lovens; echoing strummed piano chords plus bowed, twanged and stopped prepared piano strings from Schlippenbach; and squeezed irregular note clusters and unstated squeaks and breaths form Parker.

Like the GU, the trio improvisations obliquely refer to antecedents as well as the future. For instance, there’s a section on “Three in One”, when Schlippenbach’s key-clipping is so obviously Monk-like – the American pianist is an admitted influence – that Parker’s continuously uncoiling chirps and split-tone asides start to resemble the tenor saxophone styling of Johnny Griffin. Meanwhile the pianist circles through a variety of chord and cluster coloration as cascading high-energy feints and fills share space with wriggling note clusters and off-handed patterns.

“Cloudburst” – not the Lambert-Hendricks & Ross vocal showcase – in instead a moody nocturne where circumspect tenor saxophone timbres meet rebounds, pops and temperate cymbal lacerations, with the tune accelerating in andante increments, until it climaxes in kinetic cadenzas from Schlippenbach as well as tough saxophone cadences from Parker.

Finally there’s “Z.D.W.A.”, the impressive group improvisation that begins this recital. Balanced on Lovens’ distinctive locution of rolls and rebounds plus irregular cymbal shattering, the pianist expresses himself in different styles and tempos. Moving from dreamy romanticism to rolling stride in his solos, bass pedal pressure and chord clusters gradually give way to playful double-timing. Similarly Parker’s tongue-slapping and tone-scraping attain his characteristic line-and-pattern extensions before downshifting with the others to cumulative silence.

Extrapolating Parker’s composition title “Three in One”, the Schlippenbach Trio has maintained its power over many years by sympathetically amalgamating each other’s skills. What’s more, even with a constantly shifting cast, the Globe Unity has performed a similar task. Perhaps then it’s this organizational flair, along with his choice of compositions, and situations that welcome new ideas, which accounts for the pianist’s musical youthfulness.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Globe: 1. Globe Unity forty years 2. Out of Burtons Songbooks 3.Bavarian Calypso 4. Nodago 5. The Dumps 6. The Forge

Personnel: Globe: Axel Dörner (trumpet); Jean-Luc Capozzo, Manfred Schoof and Kenny Wheeler (trumpet and flugelhorn); George Lewis, Paul Rutherford, Johannes Bauer and Jeb Bishop (trombone); Ernst-Ludwig Petrowsky (clarinet, alto saxophone and flute); Evan Parker (soprano and tenor saxophones); Gerd Dudek (soprano and tenor saxophones, clarinet and flute); Rudi Mahall (bass clarinet); Alexander von Schlippenbach (piano) and Paul Lovens and Paul Lytton (drums).

Track Listing: Gold: 1. Z.D.W.A. 2. Slightly Flapping 3. Amorpha 4.Gold is Where you Find it 5. K. SP 6. Monkey’s Fist 7. Lekko 8.Cloudburst 9. Three in One 10. The Bells of St. K.

Personnel: Gold: Evan Parker (tenor saxophone); Alexander von Schlippenbach (piano) and Paul Lovens (drums).

November 25, 2008

Schaffhauser Jazzfestival

Schaffhausen, Switzerland
May 21 to 24 2008

Forty-seven years after she left her home town of Shauffchausen, Switzerland for nearby Zürich, pianist Irène Schweizer was back headlining the Schaffhauser Jazz Festival’s most ambitious program ever: performing “Radio Rondo”, a composition by bassist Barry Guy, which featured her and the London Jazz Composers Orchestra (LJCO).

In its 19th year of showcasing Swiss jazz and improvised music, Schaffhauser expanded its horizons in 2008 with the Schweizer/LJCO summit, which took place in front of a sell-out crowd in the city’s modernist Stadtheater. The evening, which included a solo piano showcase for Schweizer, also emphasized two of the fest’s overall themes: the majority of the most interesting sets included piano; and non-Swiss musicians and motifs adding needed variety to the performances

Solo, Schweizer followed a familiar – for her –discursive path, She was both meditative and Monkish, adjoining short key taps and echoing phases with thick chording, sometimes advanced with elbow prods.

Guy’s new composition, “Radio Rondo” appeared more problematic, with the pianist sometimes inaudible and the 19 musicians seemingly one rehearsal short of smoothing out the piece’s roughest edges. Episodic, the pianist’s ceremonial plinking and plucking often sent notes scurrying every which way, as the reeds shook and shrieked, the brass puffed triplets, percussionists Paul Lytton and Lucas Niggli scattered cross rhythms and bassist Barre Philips thickly double-stopped.

Sometimes Schweizer played with just reed backing; other times just with the brass. Simultaneously the sections traded riffs among themselves, at points recalling the frenzy of Energy music. Measured and functional, Schweizer’s efficient coloration brought a needed simplicity to a piece otherwise characterized by tutti crescendos.

Eventually Schweizer’s spare subtractions were echoed by others, with Niggli miming his accompaniment as he smacked an oversized gong or struck a mammoth bass drum. Veering from spiccato to legato, violinist Phil Wachsmann singly confirmed her approach. By the finale the concentrated power of varied instrumental textures was stretched into multi-hues, engulfing everyone in polyphonic exultation.

If the band seemed hesitant on “Radio Rondo”, then “Harmos”, which the LJCO first recorded in 1989, was a triumph. A longer composition that encompassed unforced swing, it featured Howard Riley – not Schweizer— on piano. Although its theme now sounds as carefully orchestrated as theatre music, upfront improvising wasn’t neglected. Among the stand-outs were frenetic brays from trombonist Johannes Bauer matched with pizzicato styling from Wachsmann; verbal shouts and double-tonguing from baritone saxophonist Mats Gustafsson and watery bubbles and lip smacks from tubaist Per Åke Holmlander.

Cunningly utilizing the antiphonal characteristics of reeds, brass and strings, muted trumpets brushed up against Gustafsson’s spetrofluctuation; while elsewhere, the measured melancholy of Trevor Watts’ alto saxophone enlarged the theme. Eventually, following some characteristic slurping and spitting from trombonist Conrad Bauer and a blues modulation from trumpeter Rich Laughlin, tenor saxophonist Evan Parker’s quicksilver line and the violinist’s sul ponticello expansion preceded another variation on the theme which proceeded contrapuntal recapping of the head.

Smaller ensembles gave greater scope to extended pianism, as distinctive keyboardists demonstrated on subsequent evenings, where concerts took place in the more relaxed setting of the Kulturzentrum Kammgarn performance space. On the final night for example, pianist Colin Vallon, bassist Patrice Moret and drummer Samuel Rohrer created a 21st Century take on the classic jazz piano trio. The Lausanne-born pianist used multiple strategies to subtly swing, yet manually choked his instruments internal strings, or advanced rolling low-pitched chords to skirt the expected.

Often he varied his output between overdriven note clusters and minimal chording, exposing hard-handed vamps as effectively as basement-directed runs. His invention was mirrored expertly by the others. The bassist produced thumping reverberations by jamming sticks horizontally among his strings and the drummer dangled a key chain on his drum tops or swiped at them with a cloth to control volume. Ironically Rohrer had been a flashy beat-monger when he worked with a song-oriented funk-fusion band the evening before.

Some improvisations referenced bucolic Ornette Coleman compositions, though Vallon wasn’t above repeating a note cluster for more excitement, or emphasizing the foot-stomping qualities of a tune. Exposing his romantic nature, the pianist made his recasting of Jacques Brel’s “Je Ne Sais Pas” a standout. With Moret plucking thick chords and the drummer lightly bopping his snares and shaking bells, Vallon sweetly and almost too slowly emphasizes the melody, only to quicken the funereal tempo so that variations were audible, helped by sustained soundboard resonations that echoed on top of Rohrer’s hand-drumming.

A similar partnership was exhibited by the In Transit quartet, but its adoption of total improvisation had wider tonal colors, with veteran Jürg Solothurnmann’s alto and soprano saxophones added to piano, bass and drums. Restrained mid-European Jazz, In Transit’s appeal was built on the interplay between Solothurnmann, who has explored folkloric and standard jazz linkages during his career as a musician and broadcaster in Switzerland, and the meditative positioning of American pianist Michael Jefry Stevens

With his performance related as much to sleight-of-hands as locked hands, Stevens picked up the tempo from adagio to andante almost before anyone noticed. By the time Stevens began plucking his instrument’s internal strings, bassist Daniel Studer was rolling a stick along his strings for maximum abrasion and drummer Dieter Ulrich was booting different parts of his kit – including a cowbell – to mark the tempo.

Overcoming Stevens’ pile-driving arpeggios which threaten to tip the set into a modal piano trio showcase, Solothurnmann’s body sways and noisy tongue slaps on soprano, encouraged the pianist to lay out long enough for the saxman to set up an alternative trio modal. Eventually as the bass lines scraped and tick-tock drum rhythms stabilized, saxophonist and pianist worked in double counterpoint to complete the musical circle. Solothurnmann held one long reed note and Stevens chorded consistently to reflect the set’s spacious introduction.

Even more radical restructuring of the piano role had been evident the previous evening on the same stage as Swiss-turned-New York-downtowner, pianist Sylvie Courvoisier showcased her working quintet. Taking centre stage were the strings of American violinist Mark Feldman and French cellist Vincent Courtois, on their periphery were the intelligently-utilized trap set of American Gerald Cleaver and the electronics of Japanese-American Ikue Mori.

Mori’s triggered pulsations were the only electro-acoustic interface displayed at the festival. Even here, her oscillated whooshes, pinball machine-like sizzles plus offside crackles and chirps were really landscaping then major performance components. More germane were the drummer’s contributions. Rumbling, rolling and bouncing, while using brushes more than sticks, Cleaver also produced percussion shakes by manipulating sheets of paper on top of his snares and toms.

With such unobtrusive backing, anticipation resulted while waiting to see how Courvoisier’s karate-chop-like comping or flapping note clusters could distort the violin’s and cello’s round legato tones. Answer for the first tune was a crescendo of flying agitato and staccato string-stops; for the second wailing spiccato. At the same time there was partnership among Feldman, Courtois and the pianist with several motifs reiterated from low-pitched, sul tasto cello line and piano keying or sprightly fiddle sweeps and multiple, high-frequency rolls from Courvoisier.

Much more conventional, pianist Thomas Silvestri’s quintet’s performance the next night – featuring trumpeter Michael Gassmann tenor and soprano saxophonist Ewald Hügle bassist Heiner Merk and exuberant drummer Tony Renold – unexpectedly gained a standing ovation from the crowd, plus garlands of flowers rained down upon the stage. But as liberating as the band’s note-perfect Hard Bop seemed at the time – complete with Latin percussion rhythms, biting saxophone riffs, sharp piano chording and well-modulated trumpet lines – it moved a little too cleanly – like a well-crafted Swiss watch.

Perhaps much of the audience’s enthusiasm stemmed from the placement of the Silvestri five following another of the festival’s missteps, one of a series of lachrymose female singers paired with pop-jazz accompaniment, whose night club-style stances appeared out of place.

Far more affecting vocally was Albanian-Swiss singer Elina Duni, who performed two midnight shows at the subterranean Haberhuas Kulterklub. Backed by experienced improvisers – Vallon, bassist Bänz Oester and percussionist Norbert Pfammatter, she interpreted songs in her native tongue in performances that resembled lively Middle Eastern dance music – encompassing her variation of belly dancing-Bollywood undulations – or as elongated, chanted folk tales. Although clearly in charge – stopping-and-starting the band with stomping of her bare feet – Duni was adaptable enough to give the trio its instrumental freedom. At one juncture within a complicated formulation that encompassed low-frequency piano chords, a waking bass line and the drummer whacking his hi-hat and popping his snares, she added a talking-and-shouting interpolation that resembled an alto saxophone solo.

--Ken Waxman

-- For MusicWorks Issue #102

November 20, 2008

Fernández/Parker/Guy/Lytton

Topos
Maya Records MCD 0701

Finding a role within an already existing musical partnership can be problematic. When the relationship has lasted most of three decades it’s that much riskier. Yet as the nine instant compositions on this CD demonstrate, Catalan pianist Augustí Fernández creates no fissure when he performs with the long-standing British trio of saxophonist Evan Parker, bassist Barry Guy and percussionist Paul Lytton.

It helps that the pianist, along with Lytton, is a member of extended Guy and Parker ensembles. Yet he’s such an accomplished stylist, whose collaborators range from Free Jazz bassist William Parker to New music flautist Jane Rigler, that his input enhances the tracks so that each part of the paradigm seems indivisible.

Parker’s serpentine trilling on the aptly-titled “Open Systems”, for instance, is backed Guy’s by blunt strumming and Fernández’s solitary key pressure, as if both are utilizing the same string set. As the pointillist mixture accelerates, impelled by Lytton’s chain-rattling and pitter-pattering skins, the pianist’s metronomic lilt allows for a quicker pace, but without losing any of the tune’s subtleties. Similarly, Lytton could be whacking steel pans as Parker vibrates constricted timbres around his tongue on the polyphonic “This One is for Kowald”, but until identifiable piano cadences kick in, the spiccato shrills heard could be bass string strokes, mouthpiece whistles or internal piano strings stopping.

Probably the clearest indication of Fernández’s simpatico internalizing of the trio’s improvisational ethic is that on the four tracks where he works in duo or trio combinations, it’s as if the quartet textures can still be heard. Especially burrowing within the piano’s bowls, astoundingly the resulting stuck and stopped overtones nearly compensate for Lytton or Guy’s absence.

-- Ken Waxman

For CODA

August 15, 2008

Sonic Geography: Mulhouse, France

For MusicWorks Issue #101
BY KEN WAXMAN

During late August when some streets in Mulhouse, France take on a decidedly other-directed character associated with the Jazz à Mulhouse (JAM) festival, it’s likely neither visitors nor locals realize the symbolic roots of the celebration, an integral part of the city since 1983.

Known as France’s Manchester, industry in this city of about 112,000 people in the Haut-Rhin region has been involved with the textile industry since 1746, when four locals founded the city’s first textile printing works. Annexed by France in 1798, Mulhouse was formerly a free republic associated with the Swiss Confederation. In the late 19th and early 20th century Mulhouse’s factories remained world leaders in the manufacture and marketing of printed cloth for both home and apparel, while students from around the world studied at the École nationale superieure des industries textiles.

Over the centuries the city also established enduring links with New Orleans, main port of Louisiana, from where cotton for its textile factories was imported. Isn’t it appropriate then, that one of Europe’s most sophisticated improvised music festivals should have this long-time attachment to the purported cradle of jazz?

Not that there’s any sort of languid Crescent City feel to this city, 30 kilometres northwest of Basel, Switzerland. Its distinctiveness comes from being a French city in close proximity to Germany and Switzerland. Annexed by Germany following the Franco-Prussian War (1870-1918) and from 1940-1945, there’s a Teutonic bustle in the streets and a few restaurants where German-styled dishes such as baeckeoffe, meats simmered in wine, markknepfle, sausages with potatoes and spätzle noodles are available. Additionally, there’s that Swiss connection, and not just from visitors. As Adrien Chiquet, JAM’s artistic director notes: “The specificity of Mulhouse is that part of the supposed middle class works in Switzerland and earns a lot of money.”

This money means that Mulhouse is able to support artistic endeavors such as the Musée de l'Impression sur Étoffes (printed textiles) and the Musée National de l'Automobile de Mulhouse, initially located within a textile mill. There’s also La Filature, the theatre/opera house, which is dark throughout August.

In contrast, during JAM, day-time concerts take place in the austere 12th Century Chapelle St. Jean, midtown, and at night at Le Noumatrouff, an expansive rock club in the suburbs, next to the tram terminus. “Even if Le Noumatrouff is not so comfortable, it’s more appropriate for what I want to do,” confides Chiquet. “Free-Music has more to do with punk venues than opera houses.”

Considering that JAM now hosts rock-improv, and electronica as well as acoustic Free Music, proves his point. In 2007, for instance, the rock-influenced Alsacienne duo Donkey Monkey and the Basque punk-improv Billy Boa trio were featured along with improvisers such as computer manipulator Thomas Lehn, saxophonist Evan Parker and pianist Irène Schweizer. The affiliated Jazz en ville/À La Campage concerts earlier in August are more conventional. This reflects the festival’s origins as a standard summer jazz fest, which as recently as 1990 featured boppers such as flugelhornist Art Farmer. The improv concentration occurred two years later when founding artistic director Paul Kanitzer gave up direction of the cultural center to concentrate on JAM.

It’s not as if there are many well-known musicians of any stripe living in the area. Although since the Beatles-era there has been a militant alternative rock scene – witness the airport hanger-like size of Le Noumatrouff – but with larger cities like Basel and Strasbourg, France nearby, committed professional musicians move on. Rather than a musician, probably the most famous Mulhouse native was Alfred Dreyfus (1859-1935), the French army captain whose trumped-up treason conviction exposed the country’s latent anti-Semitism.

Still, JAM tries to encourage appreciation for music in the area. Over the years concerts have been held on the streets, in bars and shops and in 2006, even at the Bains Municipaux, with a multi-media soiree fluid including videos, dance, and an electro-acoustic group led by Parker.

Off season JAM also co-presents improv-rock and electronica concerts, organizes electronic music workshops and sponsors a year-long series at the Mulhouse conservatory where visiting improvisers work with music students and non-professionals. During the festival young players come from all over – about 30 per cent of them locals, estimates Chiquet – to participate in intensive improvisational workshops, which in 2007 were directed by Parker, pianist Sophie Agnel and guitarist Noël Akchoté. The previous year sound designer Jérôme Noetinger led similar workshops.

Expressing a profound improv ethos, Chiquet sees the expansion of local musical activities as the workshops’ and the festival’s underlying objective “I think that 35 years of creative music in Mulhouse – because of Paul Kanitzer’s activity – has produced a lot of musicians here even if, in the end, they don't play ‘improvised music’ but turn to rock, jazz, singing, electro, etc.” he affirms.

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Ken Waxman (www.jazzword.com) writes in Toronto and internationally about jazz and improvised music. This is another of his reports on the sonic geography of selected European cities.

July 2, 2008

Open Loose

Strange Unison
Radio Legs RL 013

Evan Parker-Mark Wastell-Graham Halliwell-Max Eastley

A Life Saved By a Spider and Two Doves

Another Timbre at06

Kidd Jordan/Kali Z. Fasteau

LIVE at the Kerava Jazz Festival: Finland

Flying Note FNCD 9012

Scott Fields

Bitter Love Songs

Clean Feed CF 102 CD

Jason Stein

A Calculus of Loss

Clean Feed CF 104 CD

By Ken Waxman

Arguments exist as to the commercial benefits of free trade agreements. But musicians wish similar treaties existed for their trade. In the period since NFTA, for instance, the ability of performers to travel across borders has become worse. That’s what makes festival season important. Foreign performers ranging from respected veterans to savvy tyros get Canadian exposure. Recent CDs here capture older jazzers’ alchemy and suggest newer players to watch.

Someone who has been on the cutting edge since the 1960s, British saxophonist Evan Parker brings his questing spirit to the emblematically titled A Life Saved By a Spider and Two Doves, Another Timbre at06 Parker’s soprano saxophone is framed by shimmering, pulsating and whirling percussion and electronics. The other musicians – all British – are Mark Wastell playing tam-tam, metal percussion and harmonium, Graham Halliwell using computer and electronics; and Max Eastley on arc, an electro-acoustic monochord.

The unyielding drones from arc and harmonium create the sonic bed on which these improvisations rest. Additional electronic prestidigitation from Halliwell means that Parker’s carefully measured vibrations are seconded by lyrical trills reconstituted from his own output.

Although the saxophonist’s unhurried modulations announce their distinctive presence as they peep from among the seeping tones, all the players reach resolution on “The Chessboard Cherry Tree”. Here turbidity is shattered by ear-wrenching percussion abrasions and crackling electronic wave forms. Most distinctively, Parker’s aviary slurs coagulate and multiply with circular breathing. Utilizing ghost notes and flutter tonguing, his phrases color and connect the proceedings. Eventually the others’ blurred harmonies bond with understated reed trills for a satisfying climax.

If Parker finesses his polyphonic tones than New Orleans-based tenor-saxophonist Kidd Jordan burns through his with molten energy. Unlike Parker, Jordan performs infrequently in Canada. You can hear why this is a loss on LIVE at the Kerava Jazz Festival: Finland Flying Note FNCD 9012, where his unbridled improvising is showcased. Associates of the septuagenarian saxophonist are percussionist Newman Taylor Barker and Kali Z. Fasteau, who expresses herself on mizmar, piano, flute, cello, synthesizer, violin, drums and soprano saxophone.

Announcing themselves on “Trance Dance”, Baker rumbles, pops and rebounds, as Fasteau scrapes, stops and strums the piano’s strings before turning to modal chording. For his part, Jordan divides his sheets of sound between screeching that abuts dog-whistle territory, and slurred, subterranean growls.

Additional mass is added elsewhere when Fasteau packs performances with thick synthesizer reverberations, screechy cello lines or, drumming, joins Baker in producing press rolls. Meanwhile Jordan ratchets from his horn’s top to tip in a nanosecond, utilizing vibrated split tones, double-tongued flattement and side-slipping. With Jordan expelling staccato, free-form patterns and Fasteau utilizing her soprano saxophone’s pinched, ney-like tone, “Sound Science” is another effective track; timbres brush up against one another as identical notes appear in different pitches.

Another improviser who tours as frequently as Parker is guitarist Scott Fields. Chicago-born, Fields moved to Köln, Germany a few years back. On the witty Bitter Love Songs Clean Feed CF 102 CD, he leads a trio completed by a Portuguese rhythm section: bassist Sebastian Gramss and drummer João Lobo. Fields’ compositions, which match liquid guitar runs, slinky bass lines and on-the-beat drumming, are still at variance with their sardonic titles.

For instance “My Love is Love, Your Love is Hate” features a spinning staccato theme from Fields that is stretched with slurred fingering until it seems that it will rupture, but doesn’t. Working in double counterpoint, the massed strings join to produce a barrage of notes, with Fields sounding as if he’s playing microtonally and Gramss slapping a backbeat. Meanwhile Lobo’s flams precede an intermezzo for ringing guitar licks. Note clusters are lobbed between the players on “You Used to Say I Love You but So What Now”. But the strategy is different. Fields’ contrapuntal chording skirts C&W picking, while Gramss resonates handfuls of low-pitched timbres. Eventually as the bassist settles on legato pacing, Fields wraps up with echoing, blues-based licks.

Gramss’ bass work owes its suppleness to sonic extensions from older bass specialists such as New York’s Mark Helias, who has recorded in Toronto. His Open Loose band includes drummer Tom Rainey and tenor saxophonist Tony Malaby.

On Strange Unison, Radio Legs RL 013, while the three interlock instrumentally, Helias’ bass nevertheless set the pace, with resonations ranging from traditional slap bass to staccatissimo runs. Master of understatement, Rainey blunts the backbeat, relying on cymbal cracks and cross-pulsating drags. Skirting atonality with flutter tonguing and pressurized overblowing, Malaby digs into each composition. “Silent Stutter”, for example, finds him masticating hard and heavy slurs into clusters which are subsequently expelled as foghorn blats. In contrast, “Blue Light Down the Line” is taken mid-tempo. As the bassist’s walking is succeeded by mercurial stopping, Malaby builds concentrated phrases. Soon physicality is replaced by moderato coloration as timbres puffed by the saxophone are doubled with arco swipes.

Another vibrant improvised music scene is Chicago’s, spearheaded by reedist Ken Vandermark, a frequent Canadian visitor. Like other established players, Vandermark mentors younger players, one of whom is bass clarinetist Jason Stein. A Calculus of Loss Clean Feed CF 104 CD demonstrates what Stein can do on his own, backed by Kevin Davis’s cello and Mike Pride’s percussion.

As cohesive as the other groups here, one of the trio’s advantages is that Davis takes either the front-line guitar or rhythm-section bass role. The other is that Pride’s percussion includes resonating vibraphone tinctures, cantilevered cymbal patterns plus standard drum beats.

Compositions such as “Caroline and Sam” and “That’s Not a Closet” confirm the three are as comfortable with New music as new Swing. Balanced on vibes reverberations and scratched cello strings, the former connects a near-madrigal melody with extended techniques as Stein sounds an intractable phrase in his body tube ignoring key movement. Based on mood, rather than rhythm, the result is contemplative without sinking to lugubriousness. On the other hand, “That’s Not…” is sprightly enough to suggest mainstream swing, although Stein’s roistering coloratura lines alternating with jagged runs aren’t a standard scenario. Melodious, variations moderate the pace so Davis’ plinks and Pride’s cymbal pops are audible in its resolution.

Some of these players may be on stage this month; others may take a while to visit the area. All are worth hearing.

-- For Whole Note Vol. 13 #9

June 6, 2008

Scott Fields

Bitter Love Songs
Clean Feed CF 102 CD

Evan Parker-Mark Wastell-Graham Halliwell-Max Eastley

A Life Saved By a Spider and Two Doves

Another Timbre at06

Kidd Jordan/Kali Z. Fasteau

LIVE at the Kerava Jazz Festival: Finland

Flying Note FNCD 9012

Open Loose

Strange Unison

Radio Legs RL 013

Jason Stein

A Calculus of Loss

Clean Feed CF 104 CD

By Ken Waxman

Arguments exist as to the commercial benefits of free trade agreements. But musicians wish similar treaties existed for their trade. In the period since NFTA, for instance, the ability of performers to travel across borders has become worse. That’s what makes festival season important. Foreign performers ranging from respected veterans to savvy tyros get Canadian exposure. Recent CDs here capture older jazzers’ alchemy and suggest newer players to watch.

Someone who has been on the cutting edge since the 1960s, British saxophonist Evan Parker brings his questing spirit to the emblematically titled A Life Saved By a Spider and Two Doves, Another Timbre at06 Parker’s soprano saxophone is framed by shimmering, pulsating and whirling percussion and electronics. The other musicians – all British – are Mark Wastell playing tam-tam, metal percussion and harmonium, Graham Halliwell using computer and electronics; and Max Eastley on arc, an electro-acoustic monochord.

The unyielding drones from arc and harmonium create the sonic bed on which these improvisations rest. Additional electronic prestidigitation from Halliwell means that Parker’s carefully measured vibrations are seconded by lyrical trills reconstituted from his own output.

Although the saxophonist’s unhurried modulations announce their distinctive presence as they peep from among the seeping tones, all the players reach resolution on “The Chessboard Cherry Tree”. Here turbidity is shattered by ear-wrenching percussion abrasions and crackling electronic wave forms. Most distinctively, Parker’s aviary slurs coagulate and multiply with circular breathing. Utilizing ghost notes and flutter tonguing, his phrases color and connect the proceedings. Eventually the others’ blurred harmonies bond with understated reed trills for a satisfying climax.

If Parker finesses his polyphonic tones than New Orleans-based tenor-saxophonist Kidd Jordan burns through his with molten energy. Unlike Parker, Jordan performs infrequently in Canada. You can hear why this is a loss on LIVE at the Kerava Jazz Festival: Finland Flying Note FNCD 9012, where his unbridled improvising is showcased. Associates of the septuagenarian saxophonist are percussionist Newman Taylor Barker and Kali Z. Fasteau, who expresses herself on mizmar, piano, flute, cello, synthesizer, violin, drums and soprano saxophone.

Announcing themselves on “Trance Dance”, Baker rumbles, pops and rebounds, as Fasteau scrapes, stops and strums the piano’s strings before turning to modal chording. For his part, Jordan divides his sheets of sound between screeching that abuts dog-whistle territory, and slurred, subterranean growls.

Additional mass is added elsewhere when Fasteau packs performances with thick synthesizer reverberations, screechy cello lines or, drumming, joins Baker in producing press rolls. Meanwhile Jordan ratchets from his horn’s top to tip in a nanosecond, utilizing vibrated split tones, double-tongued flattement and side-slipping. With Jordan expelling staccato, free-form patterns and Fasteau utilizing her soprano saxophone’s pinched, ney-like tone, “Sound Science” is another effective track; timbres brush up against one another as identical notes appear in different pitches.

Another improviser who tours as frequently as Parker is guitarist Scott Fields. Chicago-born, Fields moved to Köln, Germany a few years back. On the witty Bitter Love Songs Clean Feed CF 102 CD, he leads a trio completed by a Portuguese rhythm section: bassist Sebastian Gramss and drummer João Lobo. Fields’ compositions, which match liquid guitar runs, slinky bass lines and on-the-beat drumming, are still at variance with their sardonic titles.

For instance “My Love is Love, Your Love is Hate” features a spinning staccato theme from Fields that is stretched with slurred fingering until it seems that it will rupture, but doesn’t. Working in double counterpoint, the massed strings join to produce a barrage of notes, with Fields sounding as if he’s playing microtonally and Gramss slapping a backbeat. Meanwhile Lobo’s flams precede an intermezzo for ringing guitar licks. Note clusters are lobbed between the players on “You Used to Say I Love You but So What Now”. But the strategy is different. Fields’ contrapuntal chording skirts C&W picking, while Gramss resonates handfuls of low-pitched timbres. Eventually as the bassist settles on legato pacing, Fields wraps up with echoing, blues-based licks.

Gramss’ bass work owes its suppleness to sonic extensions from older bass specialists such as New York’s Mark Helias, who has recorded in Toronto. His Open Loose band includes drummer Tom Rainey and tenor saxophonist Tony Malaby.

On Strange Unison, Radio Legs RL 013, while the three interlock instrumentally, Helias’ bass nevertheless set the pace, with resonations ranging from traditional slap bass to staccatissimo runs. Master of understatement, Rainey blunts the backbeat, relying on cymbal cracks and cross-pulsating drags. Skirting atonality with flutter tonguing and pressurized overblowing, Malaby digs into each composition. “Silent Stutter”, for example, finds him masticating hard and heavy slurs into clusters which are subsequently expelled as foghorn blats. In contrast, “Blue Light Down the Line” is taken mid-tempo. As the bassist’s walking is succeeded by mercurial stopping, Malaby builds concentrated phrases. Soon physicality is replaced by moderato coloration as timbres puffed by the saxophone are doubled with arco swipes.

Another vibrant improvised music scene is Chicago’s, spearheaded by reedist Ken Vandermark, a frequent Canadian visitor. Like other established players, Vandermark mentors younger players, one of whom is bass clarinetist Jason Stein. A Calculus of Loss Clean Feed CF 104 CD demonstrates what Stein can do on his own, backed by Kevin Davis’s cello and Mike Pride’s percussion.

As cohesive as the other groups here, one of the trio’s advantages is that Davis takes either the front-line guitar or rhythm-section bass role. The other is that Pride’s percussion includes resonating vibraphone tinctures, cantilevered cymbal patterns plus standard drum beats.

Compositions such as “Caroline and Sam” and “That’s Not a Closet” confirm the three are as comfortable with New music as new Swing. Balanced on vibes reverberations and scratched cello strings, the former connects a near-madrigal melody with extended techniques as Stein sounds an intractable phrase in his body tube ignoring key movement. Based on mood, rather than rhythm, the result is contemplative without sinking to lugubriousness. On the other hand, “That’s Not…” is sprightly enough to suggest mainstream swing, although Stein’s roistering coloratura lines alternating with jagged runs aren’t a standard scenario. Melodious, variations moderate the pace so Davis’ plinks and Pride’s cymbal pops are audible in its resolution.

Some of these players may be on stage this month; others may take a while to visit the area. All are worth hearing.

-- For Whole Note Vol. 13 #9

June 6, 2008

Kidd Jordan/Kali Z. Fasteau

LIVE at the Kerava Jazz Festival: Finland
Flying Note FNCD 9012

Evan Parker-Mark Wastell-Graham Halliwell-Max Eastley

A Life Saved By a Spider and Two Doves

Another Timbre at06

Scott Fields

Bitter Love Songs

Clean Feed CF 102 CD

Open Loose

Strange Unison

Radio Legs RL 013

Jason Stein

A Calculus of Loss

Clean Feed CF 104 CD

By Ken Waxman

Arguments exist as to the commercial benefits of free trade agreements. But musicians wish similar treaties existed for their trade. In the period since NFTA, for instance, the ability of performers to travel across borders has become worse. That’s what makes festival season important. Foreign performers ranging from respected veterans to savvy tyros get Canadian exposure. Recent CDs here capture older jazzers’ alchemy and suggest newer players to watch.

Someone who has been on the cutting edge since the 1960s, British saxophonist Evan Parker brings his questing spirit to the emblematically titled A Life Saved By a Spider and Two Doves, Another Timbre at06 Parker’s soprano saxophone is framed by shimmering, pulsating and whirling percussion and electronics. The other musicians – all British – are Mark Wastell playing tam-tam, metal percussion and harmonium, Graham Halliwell using computer and electronics; and Max Eastley on arc, an electro-acoustic monochord.

The unyielding drones from arc and harmonium create the sonic bed on which these improvisations rest. Additional electronic prestidigitation from Halliwell means that Parker’s carefully measured vibrations are seconded by lyrical trills reconstituted from his own output.

Although the saxophonist’s unhurried modulations announce their distinctive presence as they peep from among the seeping tones, all the players reach resolution on “The Chessboard Cherry Tree”. Here turbidity is shattered by ear-wrenching percussion abrasions and crackling electronic wave forms. Most distinctively, Parker’s aviary slurs coagulate and multiply with circular breathing. Utilizing ghost notes and flutter tonguing, his phrases color and connect the proceedings. Eventually the others’ blurred harmonies bond with understated reed trills for a satisfying climax.

If Parker finesses his polyphonic tones than New Orleans-based tenor-saxophonist Kidd Jordan burns through his with molten energy. Unlike Parker, Jordan performs infrequently in Canada. You can hear why this is a loss on LIVE at the Kerava Jazz Festival: Finland Flying Note FNCD 9012, where his unbridled improvising is showcased. Associates of the septuagenarian saxophonist are percussionist Newman Taylor Barker and Kali Z. Fasteau, who expresses herself on mizmar, piano, flute, cello, synthesizer, violin, drums and soprano saxophone.

Announcing themselves on “Trance Dance”, Baker rumbles, pops and rebounds, as Fasteau scrapes, stops and strums the piano’s strings before turning to modal chording. For his part, Jordan divides his sheets of sound between screeching that abuts dog-whistle territory, and slurred, subterranean growls.

Additional mass is added elsewhere when Fasteau packs performances with thick synthesizer reverberations, screechy cello lines or, drumming, joins Baker in producing press rolls. Meanwhile Jordan ratchets from his horn’s top to tip in a nanosecond, utilizing vibrated split tones, double-tongued flattement and side-slipping. With Jordan expelling staccato, free-form patterns and Fasteau utilizing her soprano saxophone’s pinched, ney-like tone, “Sound Science” is another effective track; timbres brush up against one another as identical notes appear in different pitches.

Another improviser who tours as frequently as Parker is guitarist Scott Fields. Chicago-born, Fields moved to Köln, Germany a few years back. On the witty Bitter Love Songs Clean Feed CF 102 CD, he leads a trio completed by a Portuguese rhythm section: bassist Sebastian Gramss and drummer João Lobo. Fields’ compositions, which match liquid guitar runs, slinky bass lines and on-the-beat drumming, are still at variance with their sardonic titles.

For instance “My Love is Love, Your Love is Hate” features a spinning staccato theme from Fields that is stretched with slurred fingering until it seems that it will rupture, but doesn’t. Working in double counterpoint, the massed strings join to produce a barrage of notes, with Fields sounding as if he’s playing microtonally and Gramss slapping a backbeat. Meanwhile Lobo’s flams precede an intermezzo for ringing guitar licks. Note clusters are lobbed between the players on “You Used to Say I Love You but So What Now”. But the strategy is different. Fields’ contrapuntal chording skirts C&W picking, while Gramss resonates handfuls of low-pitched timbres. Eventually as the bassist settles on legato pacing, Fields wraps up with echoing, blues-based licks.

Gramss’ bass work owes its suppleness to sonic extensions from older bass specialists such as New York’s Mark Helias, who has recorded in Toronto. His Open Loose band includes drummer Tom Rainey and tenor saxophonist Tony Malaby.

On Strange Unison, Radio Legs RL 013, while the three interlock instrumentally, Helias’ bass nevertheless set the pace, with resonations ranging from traditional slap bass to staccatissimo runs. Master of understatement, Rainey blunts the backbeat, relying on cymbal cracks and cross-pulsating drags. Skirting atonality with flutter tonguing and pressurized overblowing, Malaby digs into each composition. “Silent Stutter”, for example, finds him masticating hard and heavy slurs into clusters which are subsequently expelled as foghorn blats. In contrast, “Blue Light Down the Line” is taken mid-tempo. As the bassist’s walking is succeeded by mercurial stopping, Malaby builds concentrated phrases. Soon physicality is replaced by moderato coloration as timbres puffed by the saxophone are doubled with arco swipes.

Another vibrant improvised music scene is Chicago’s, spearheaded by reedist Ken Vandermark, a frequent Canadian visitor. Like other established players, Vandermark mentors younger players, one of whom is bass clarinetist Jason Stein. A Calculus of Loss Clean Feed CF 104 CD demonstrates what Stein can do on his own, backed by Kevin Davis’s cello and Mike Pride’s percussion.

As cohesive as the other groups here, one of the trio’s advantages is that Davis takes either the front-line guitar or rhythm-section bass role. The other is that Pride’s percussion includes resonating vibraphone tinctures, cantilevered cymbal patterns plus standard drum beats.

Compositions such as “Caroline and Sam” and “That’s Not a Closet” confirm the three are as comfortable with New music as new Swing. Balanced on vibes reverberations and scratched cello strings, the former connects a near-madrigal melody with extended techniques as Stein sounds an intractable phrase in his body tube ignoring key movement. Based on mood, rather than rhythm, the result is contemplative without sinking to lugubriousness. On the other hand, “That’s Not…” is sprightly enough to suggest mainstream swing, although Stein’s roistering coloratura lines alternating with jagged runs aren’t a standard scenario. Melodious, variations moderate the pace so Davis’ plinks and Pride’s cymbal pops are audible in its resolution.

Some of these players may be on stage this month; others may take a while to visit the area. All are worth hearing.

-- For Whole Note Vol. 13 #9

June 6, 2008

Evan Parker-Mark Wastell-Graham Halliwell-Max Eastley

A Life Saved By a Spider and Two Doves
Another Timbre at06

Kidd Jordan/Kali Z. Fasteau

LIVE at the Kerava Jazz Festival: Finland

Flying Note FNCD 9012

Scott Fields

Bitter Love Songs

Clean Feed CF 102 CD

Open Loose

Strange Unison

Radio Legs RL 013

Jason Stein

A Calculus of Loss

Clean Feed CF 104 CD

By Ken Waxman

Arguments exist as to the commercial benefits of free trade agreements. But musicians wish similar treaties existed for their trade. In the period since NFTA, for instance, the ability of performers to travel across borders has become worse. That’s what makes festival season important. Foreign performers ranging from respected veterans to savvy tyros get Canadian exposure. Recent CDs here capture older jazzers’ alchemy and suggest newer players to watch.

Someone who has been on the cutting edge since the 1960s, British saxophonist Evan Parker brings his questing spirit to the emblematically titled A Life Saved By a Spider and Two Doves, Another Timbre at06 Parker’s soprano saxophone is framed by shimmering, pulsating and whirling percussion and electronics. The other musicians – all British – are Mark Wastell playing tam-tam, metal percussion and harmonium, Graham Halliwell using computer and electronics; and Max Eastley on arc, an electro-acoustic monochord.

The unyielding drones from arc and harmonium create the sonic bed on which these improvisations rest. Additional electronic prestidigitation from Halliwell means that Parker’s carefully measured vibrations are seconded by lyrical trills reconstituted from his own output.

Although the saxophonist’s unhurried modulations announce their distinctive presence as they peep from among the seeping tones, all the players reach resolution on “The Chessboard Cherry Tree”. Here turbidity is shattered by ear-wrenching percussion abrasions and crackling electronic wave forms. Most distinctively, Parker’s aviary slurs coagulate and multiply with circular breathing. Utilizing ghost notes and flutter tonguing, his phrases color and connect the proceedings. Eventually the others’ blurred harmonies bond with understated reed trills for a satisfying climax.

If Parker finesses his polyphonic tones than New Orleans-based tenor-saxophonist Kidd Jordan burns through his with molten energy. Unlike Parker, Jordan performs infrequently in Canada. You can hear why this is a loss on LIVE at the Kerava Jazz Festival: Finland Flying Note FNCD 9012, where his unbridled improvising is showcased. Associates of the septuagenarian saxophonist are percussionist Newman Taylor Barker and Kali Z. Fasteau, who expresses herself on mizmar, piano, flute, cello, synthesizer, violin, drums and soprano saxophone.

Announcing themselves on “Trance Dance”, Baker rumbles, pops and rebounds, as Fasteau scrapes, stops and strums the piano’s strings before turning to modal chording. For his part, Jordan divides his sheets of sound between screeching that abuts dog-whistle territory, and slurred, subterranean growls.

Additional mass is added elsewhere when Fasteau packs performances with thick synthesizer reverberations, screechy cello lines or, drumming, joins Baker in producing press rolls. Meanwhile Jordan ratchets from his horn’s top to tip in a nanosecond, utilizing vibrated split tones, double-tongued flattement and side-slipping. With Jordan expelling staccato, free-form patterns and Fasteau utilizing her soprano saxophone’s pinched, ney-like tone, “Sound Science” is another effective track; timbres brush up against one another as identical notes appear in different pitches.

Another improviser who tours as frequently as Parker is guitarist Scott Fields. Chicago-born, Fields moved to Köln, Germany a few years back. On the witty Bitter Love Songs Clean Feed CF 102 CD, he leads a trio completed by a Portuguese rhythm section: bassist Sebastian Gramss and drummer João Lobo. Fields’ compositions, which match liquid guitar runs, slinky bass lines and on-the-beat drumming, are still at variance with their sardonic titles.

For instance “My Love is Love, Your Love is Hate” features a spinning staccato theme from Fields that is stretched with slurred fingering until it seems that it will rupture, but doesn’t. Working in double counterpoint, the massed strings join to produce a barrage of notes, with Fields sounding as if he’s playing microtonally and Gramss slapping a backbeat. Meanwhile Lobo’s flams precede an intermezzo for ringing guitar licks. Note clusters are lobbed between the players on “You Used to Say I Love You but So What Now”. But the strategy is different. Fields’ contrapuntal chording skirts C&W picking, while Gramss resonates handfuls of low-pitched timbres. Eventually as the bassist settles on legato pacing, Fields wraps up with echoing, blues-based licks.

Gramss’ bass work owes its suppleness to sonic extensions from older bass specialists such as New York’s Mark Helias, who has recorded in Toronto. His Open Loose band includes drummer Tom Rainey and tenor saxophonist Tony Malaby.

On Strange Unison, Radio Legs RL 013, while the three interlock instrumentally, Helias’ bass nevertheless set the pace, with resonations ranging from traditional slap bass to staccatissimo runs. Master of understatement, Rainey blunts the backbeat, relying on cymbal cracks and cross-pulsating drags. Skirting atonality with flutter tonguing and pressurized overblowing, Malaby digs into each composition. “Silent Stutter”, for example, finds him masticating hard and heavy slurs into clusters which are subsequently expelled as foghorn blats. In contrast, “Blue Light Down the Line” is taken mid-tempo. As the bassist’s walking is succeeded by mercurial stopping, Malaby builds concentrated phrases. Soon physicality is replaced by moderato coloration as timbres puffed by the saxophone are doubled with arco swipes.

Another vibrant improvised music scene is Chicago’s, spearheaded by reedist Ken Vandermark, a frequent Canadian visitor. Like other established players, Vandermark mentors younger players, one of whom is bass clarinetist Jason Stein. A Calculus of Loss Clean Feed CF 104 CD demonstrates what Stein can do on his own, backed by Kevin Davis’s cello and Mike Pride’s percussion.

As cohesive as the other groups here, one of the trio’s advantages is that Davis takes either the front-line guitar or rhythm-section bass role. The other is that Pride’s percussion includes resonating vibraphone tinctures, cantilevered cymbal patterns plus standard drum beats.

Compositions such as “Caroline and Sam” and “That’s Not a Closet” confirm the three are as comfortable with New music as new Swing. Balanced on vibes reverberations and scratched cello strings, the former connects a near-madrigal melody with extended techniques as Stein sounds an intractable phrase in his body tube ignoring key movement. Based on mood, rather than rhythm, the result is contemplative without sinking to lugubriousness. On the other hand, “That’s Not…” is sprightly enough to suggest mainstream swing, although Stein’s roistering coloratura lines alternating with jagged runs aren’t a standard scenario. Melodious, variations moderate the pace so Davis’ plinks and Pride’s cymbal pops are audible in its resolution.

Some of these players may be on stage this month; others may take a while to visit the area. All are worth hearing.

-- For Whole Note Vol. 13 #9

June 6, 2008

Jason Stein

A Calculus of Loss
Clean Feed CF 104 CD

Evan Parker-Mark Wastell-Graham Halliwell-Max Eastley

A Life Saved By a Spider and Two Doves

Another Timbre at06

Kidd Jordan/Kali Z. Fasteau

LIVE at the Kerava Jazz Festival: Finland

Flying Note FNCD 9012

Scott Fields

Bitter Love Songs

Clean Feed CF 102 CD

Open Loose

Strange Unison

Radio Legs RL 013

By Ken Waxman

Arguments exist as to the commercial benefits of free trade agreements. But musicians wish similar treaties existed for their trade. In the period since NFTA, for instance, the ability of performers to travel across borders has become worse. That’s what makes festival season important. Foreign performers ranging from respected veterans to savvy tyros get Canadian exposure. Recent CDs here capture older jazzers’ alchemy and suggest newer players to watch.

Someone who has been on the cutting edge since the 1960s, British saxophonist Evan Parker brings his questing spirit to the emblematically titled A Life Saved By a Spider and Two Doves, Another Timbre at06 Parker’s soprano saxophone is framed by shimmering, pulsating and whirling percussion and electronics. The other musicians – all British – are Mark Wastell playing tam-tam, metal percussion and harmonium, Graham Halliwell using computer and electronics; and Max Eastley on arc, an electro-acoustic monochord.

The unyielding drones from arc and harmonium create the sonic bed on which these improvisations rest. Additional electronic prestidigitation from Halliwell means that Parker’s carefully measured vibrations are seconded by lyrical trills reconstituted from his own output.

Although the saxophonist’s unhurried modulations announce their distinctive presence as they peep from among the seeping tones, all the players reach resolution on “The Chessboard Cherry Tree”. Here turbidity is shattered by ear-wrenching percussion abrasions and crackling electronic wave forms. Most distinctively, Parker’s aviary slurs coagulate and multiply with circular breathing. Utilizing ghost notes and flutter tonguing, his phrases color and connect the proceedings. Eventually the others’ blurred harmonies bond with understated reed trills for a satisfying climax.

If Parker finesses his polyphonic tones than New Orleans-based tenor-saxophonist Kidd Jordan burns through his with molten energy. Unlike Parker, Jordan performs infrequently in Canada. You can hear why this is a loss on LIVE at the Kerava Jazz Festival: Finland Flying Note FNCD 9012, where his unbridled improvising is showcased. Associates of the septuagenarian saxophonist are percussionist Newman Taylor Barker and Kali Z. Fasteau, who expresses herself on mizmar, piano, flute, cello, synthesizer, violin, drums and soprano saxophone.

Announcing themselves on “Trance Dance”, Baker rumbles, pops and rebounds, as Fasteau scrapes, stops and strums the piano’s strings before turning to modal chording. For his part, Jordan divides his sheets of sound between screeching that abuts dog-whistle territory, and slurred, subterranean growls.

Additional mass is added elsewhere when Fasteau packs performances with thick synthesizer reverberations, screechy cello lines or, drumming, joins Baker in producing press rolls. Meanwhile Jordan ratchets from his horn’s top to tip in a nanosecond, utilizing vibrated split tones, double-tongued flattement and side-slipping. With Jordan expelling staccato, free-form patterns and Fasteau utilizing her soprano saxophone’s pinched, ney-like tone, “Sound Science” is another effective track; timbres brush up against one another as identical notes appear in different pitches.

Another improviser who tours as frequently as Parker is guitarist Scott Fields. Chicago-born, Fields moved to Köln, Germany a few years back. On the witty Bitter Love Songs Clean Feed CF 102 CD, he leads a trio completed by a Portuguese rhythm section: bassist Sebastian Gramss and drummer João Lobo. Fields’ compositions, which match liquid guitar runs, slinky bass lines and on-the-beat drumming, are still at variance with their sardonic titles.

For instance “My Love is Love, Your Love is Hate” features a spinning staccato theme from Fields that is stretched with slurred fingering until it seems that it will rupture, but doesn’t. Working in double counterpoint, the massed strings join to produce a barrage of notes, with Fields sounding as if he’s playing microtonally and Gramss slapping a backbeat. Meanwhile Lobo’s flams precede an intermezzo for ringing guitar licks. Note clusters are lobbed between the players on “You Used to Say I Love You but So What Now”. But the strategy is different. Fields’ contrapuntal chording skirts C&W picking, while Gramss resonates handfuls of low-pitched timbres. Eventually as the bassist settles on legato pacing, Fields wraps up with echoing, blues-based licks.

Gramss’ bass work owes its suppleness to sonic extensions from older bass specialists such as New York’s Mark Helias, who has recorded in Toronto. His Open Loose band includes drummer Tom Rainey and tenor saxophonist Tony Malaby.

On Strange Unison, Radio Legs RL 013, while the three interlock instrumentally, Helias’ bass nevertheless set the pace, with resonations ranging from traditional slap bass to staccatissimo runs. Master of understatement, Rainey blunts the backbeat, relying on cymbal cracks and cross-pulsating drags. Skirting atonality with flutter tonguing and pressurized overblowing, Malaby digs into each composition. “Silent Stutter”, for example, finds him masticating hard and heavy slurs into clusters which are subsequently expelled as foghorn blats. In contrast, “Blue Light Down the Line” is taken mid-tempo. As the bassist’s walking is succeeded by mercurial stopping, Malaby builds concentrated phrases. Soon physicality is replaced by moderato coloration as timbres puffed by the saxophone are doubled with arco swipes.

Another vibrant improvised music scene is Chicago’s, spearheaded by reedist Ken Vandermark, a frequent Canadian visitor. Like other established players, Vandermark mentors younger players, one of whom is bass clarinetist Jason Stein. A Calculus of Loss Clean Feed CF 104 CD demonstrates what Stein can do on his own, backed by Kevin Davis’s cello and Mike Pride’s percussion.

As cohesive as the other groups here, one of the trio’s advantages is that Davis takes either the front-line guitar or rhythm-section bass role. The other is that Pride’s percussion includes resonating vibraphone tinctures, cantilevered cymbal patterns plus standard drum beats.

Compositions such as “Caroline and Sam” and “That’s Not a Closet” confirm the three are as comfortable with New music as new Swing. Balanced on vibes reverberations and scratched cello strings, the former connects a near-madrigal melody with extended techniques as Stein sounds an intractable phrase in his body tube ignoring key movement. Based on mood, rather than rhythm, the result is contemplative without sinking to lugubriousness. On the other hand, “That’s Not…” is sprightly enough to suggest mainstream swing, although Stein’s roistering coloratura lines alternating with jagged runs aren’t a standard scenario. Melodious, variations moderate the pace so Davis’ plinks and Pride’s cymbal pops are audible in its resolution.

Some of these players may be on stage this month; others may take a while to visit the area. All are worth hearing.

-- For Whole Note Vol. 13 #9

June 6, 2008

John Stevens-Evan Parker

Corner to Corner + The Longest Night
Ogun OGCD 022/023

Musically associated in a variety of ensembles from the mid-1960s to the mid-1990s, saxophonist Evan Parker and drummer John Stevens (1940-1994) are generally credited as two of the half-dozen or so visionaries who helped create the unstructured collective sounds that characterized British Free Music.

Throughout the years, infrequent duo interactions offered both expansive opportunities to express themselves, and this important reissue combines what arguably are the two’s most accomplished duets: 1976’s The Longest Night and 1993’s Corner to Corner. Although of variable personalities – the mordant drummer loudly rubbed more people the wrong way then he did drum tops, while the saxophonist was and is more moderate in demeanor – their shared philosophy of facing every musical challenge head-on serves them well on both discs.

What’s most remarkable, though, is how the adaptable their styles – created at EuroImprov’s ground zero – were, and how they were still subtly tweaking them every time they played. Physically, the booklet sleeve photos note their changes. Heavily bearded and bushy-haired at 36, when the first CD was recorded, Stevens at 53, was balding, bespectacled and clean-shaven, though as voluble as always as his gesticulating hands demonstrate in the 1993 picture. Also thin, bushy-haired and black bearded at 32, by 49, Parker was chunkier, grey-bearded and more phlegmatic – at least when photographed in 1993 quizzically listening to one of Stevens’ verbal onslaughts.

Happily those gesticulating hands become the opposite of garrulous when Stevens sits behind a drum kit. On the eight selections that make up each disc, his playing is most notable for its low-level fragility and moderated volume, plus the minute and pin-pointed motions he uses. Volubility comes out when the percussionist plays his cornet on certain numbers. Still, the 17-year gap between the CDs demonstrates that in the interim Stevens had adapted the function of his brass instrument from that of a braying noise-maker to a sound source whose textures could be entwined with Parker’s inimitable soprano saxophone timbres.

Today, when it appears as if nearly every saxophone practices circular breathing, it’s almost hard to imagine Parker’s achievement 30 – and more – years ago when he developed the concept following an exposure to the exhibitionistic work of Rahsaan Roland Kirk. Even so his most spectacular extended solos were still in the future in 1976, with squeaks, slurs, swirls and stops more in evidence. At the same time Parker had already forged the sound which has continued to define him. His tone is as instantly identifiable – and now familiar – on The Longest Night’s first track, “19.11” as it is 4½ hours later on “23.40”.

Throughout reed triple tonguing meets percussive bell pealing and tongue-flutters make common cause with rattled chains. Additionally, agitato pitch-sliding and barely-there timbres forced through the horn’s bell from the reedist bring forth hand-stopped cymbal vibrations and wispy brush motions on drum tops from the percussionist. With tambourine rattles and harsh rolls adumbrating stop-time sections and inchoate phrasing, the two create an extended – more than 21 minute – improvisational essay on “20.23”.

Introduced with snaky and snarling flutter-tonguing from Parker plus cymbal rebounds and the odd ratamacue from Stevens, the piece soon evolves as the saxophonist outputs rubbery onomatopoeia, while in contrast the drummer burlesques a military march with his snare drum. As percussion friction becomes tougher, louder and more conspicuous, Parker turns to reed-biting, false-register snorts and pig-like altissimo squeals. Simultaneously the trapsman begins vocalizing a secondary shamanistic line in counterpoint to the instrumental sounds, while running roughshod over the cymbals and different-sized drums. For the climax, Parker’s respiration is transformed into a collection of aviary twitters and slurs that expose more than one tone at a time. Meantime Stevens works the staccato dual towards its conclusion with raps, rasps, ruffs and rumbles encompassing rattling chains and ringing bells plus an raucous third line of tremolo cornet braying.

If the capillary blasts from Stevens’ cornet were more corrosive than connective in 1976, by 1993, while he couldn’t match Parker’s hummingbird-like tones, at least the brass tones had evolved from those of a crow to an approximation of a songbird.

Unlike the extended tours-de-force of 17 years previously, the two spread their more mature styling over shorter tracks which range from a touch over 3½ minutes to a shade under 15. Livelier overall than The Longest Night — maybe it was recorded earlier in the day – Parker has expanded both extremities of his range, with corkscrew patterning in one pitch as well as whispering and whip-like flutters, at the other end. Pinched and staccato at points, he also shows off ney-like wheezes; that is when his double, triple and quadruple tongue-patterning doesn’t develop into nearly continuous overblowing.

For his part, Stevens’ percussion actions are blunter, sharper and more to the point than they were 17 years previously – without altering his characteristic approach. Flams, metallic pats, door-knocking smacks, rat-tat-tats, cymbal slaps and backbeat rolls are present. But by 1993 Stevens is also more abstractly concussive and uses even more of the auxiliary wooden and metal parts of his kit. Overall, there is very little unison harmonics, but much double counterpoint improvising between the two.

Tellingly, the final track on Corner To Corner – which like the first CD is likely presented chronologically – reveals yet another reconfiguration of Stevens’ cornet technique. Subsuming his capillary brays, the percussionist manages to complement and extend the continuously wheezing twitters which Parker creates. Sometimes the two even appear to be hitting the same note. Eventually, the horn tones intertwine – then are followed by a concluding circular-breathed riff from Parker and lightly ruffled conclusive drum beat from Stevens.

The duality exhibited on this track is memorialized by its title, “Each/Other”. It suggests that the cooperation might have expanded still further. Unfortunately Stevens’ death means that these sessions are all that remains of the mutual musical respect and understanding Parker and Stevens had for one another.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Disc 1: 1. 19.1 1 2. 19.44 3. 20.23 4. 21.25 5. 21.47 6. 22.18 7. 23.12

Personnel: Disc 1and 2: Evan Parker (soprano saxophone) and John Stevens (percussion and cornet)

Track Listing: Disc 2: 1. 23.40 2. Corner to Corner 3. Rubber 4. Angles 5. Incidence 6. Reflections [for Geoff Rigden] 7. Acute 8. Each/Other

February 24, 2008

ROVA

The Juke Box Suite
Not Two MW 786-2

Marc Baron/Bertrand Denzler/Jean-Luc Guionnet/Stéphane Rives

Propagations

Potlatch P107

Evan Parker & Ned Rothenberg

Live At Roulette

Animul ANI 106

With unaccompanied group reed sessions now commonplace in improvised music, the challenge remains to make them more than technical exercises. Each of these notable CD succeeds in doing so; but each does so in an individual manner.

As could be expected from its populist title, The Juke Box Suite is probably the most lyrical of the many CDs from the Bay area-based ROVA quartet, which arguably pioneered the four saxophone concept in improv. Propagations, on the other hand, features a quartet of young French saxophonists, who have only performed in this formation since 2003. Completely eschewing the song form, the group’s one long performance uses textures, layering and arrangements that use reeds as sound sources rather than melody extensions. A duo, rather than a quartet like those on the other CDs, Brooklyn-based Ned Rothenberg and London-based Evan Parker exhibit their mastery of the multi-reed form by blending different combinations of Rothenberg’s three reeds and Parker’s two on six live performances.

Each Parker-Rothenberg coupling produces a different sonic. The alto (Rothenberg) and tenor (Parker) saxophone mix on “Who Asked Racine”, for instance, ricochets between very brisk and very slack timbres. Intertwined, contrapuntal and augmented with held note that are hocketed or snorted, the continuous reflective lines seem initially to be only Parker’s. But following Rothenberg rappelling down the scale with accompanying trills, the extended timbres bring both to warm modulations by the conclusion.

Parker’s characteristic circular breathing on soprano saxophone gets a work out on “Brew for the Birds”, although Rothenberg’s tongue-slapping clarinet work reaches an equal level of high-pitched coloratura. The note aspiration is such that the two twitter and chirp counterlines at one another, eventually negating any spare pauses left in the interaction. The clarinetist’s whistling legato phrasing perfectly connects to Parker intense, staccato vibrations.

In contrast, “The Artist’s Response” with Rothenberg on alto saxophone and Parker on soprano saxophone opens up the sound field with overblown trills and tongue-stopping contrapuntal pulses. With the output expressed in polytones as well as palindromes, this curvaceous intermezzo features so many circling, winding and gradated timbres that not only is it difficult to distinguish one saxman from the other, but at times the two sound like an entire sax section.

That’s something that may not be as evident on Propagations, even though the all the horns for a saxophone section are present. It may be because each reedist has evolved both a microtonal and macro-tonal playing style. Alto saxophonist Jean-Luc Guionnet and tenor saxophonist Bertrand Denzler are in the minimalist Hubbub band, but Guionnet also plays Energy Music with The Fish, and Denzler has recorded with more outgoing types like pianist John Wolf Brennan. Alto saxophonist Marc Baron has recorded as part of clarinetist Louis Sclavis’ band. Only soprano saxophonist Stéphane Rives is a strict microtonalist – at least on record.

Nuanced and layered, the collective improvisation on this CD relies most frequently on breaths forced through the horns’ body tubes as well as the siren-like textures created by intense reed biting. As the moderato piece evolves, complex loops of sound are used in such a way that the tonal centre constantly shifts, subtly exposing shards, sparkles and sprinkles of multiphonics which are as much in the background as the foreground.

Individual saxophones announce themselves through peeps, glottal punctuation, key percussion and tongue slaps. But as much as fortissimo but brief reed squeals are the norm, so are extended pauses. Infrequently as well, the four take up the role of a conventional sax section with one soloist performing individual reed gymnastics as around him the other three undulate overtones that reach organ-like cushioning tones.

By the piece’s final variation the slowly oscillating pulses do reach past fortissimo to occupy the entire sound field. Coalescing as one solid mass, the timbre moves in a straight line, studded with balanced growls, flattement vibrato and pulsating glissandi. Eventually it seems as if all the oxygen remaining in the studio has almost been sucked into the bells of the horns.

After showcasing broken-octave accelerated tones from each saxophone in succession, the four reach a crescendo of irregularly vibrated quadruple counterpoint that then diminishes to a finale of barely-there body tube echoes, metallic puffs and ear-straining, ever-lengthening then conclusive silences.

Protracted silences aren’t really programmed on The Juke Box Suite, but you wouldn’t expect this from the seven tracks – all composed by alto and baritone saxophonist Jon Raskin – that honor Balkan, Afro-Cuban and African music, and individually one of the fathers of modern Brazilian music; a writer who was both a socialist and a Yiddishist; a Finnish folk super group; big city R&B and rock music; and a German-American minimalist painter.

With all due respect to the composer, the dedications in the titles seem to promise more disparity among the tunes than the music itself. That said, the seven are individually and collectively rhythmically exciting and improvisationally sophisticated. Listen, for instance to the striking polyphonic cries on “Juke Box Niggum” from either Bruce Ackley’s or Larry Och’s tenor saxophone, which creates dancing, ecstatic trills, ornamented by pumping slurs from Raskin’s baritone saxophone.

Contrast that with the singing sopranino lines and tenor saxophone obbligatos which push against one another contrapuntally on “Juke Box Choro”. Again the baritone provides the bottom, tenor and alto (Steve Adams), chime in with mid-range trills as Ochs’ sopranino outlines the fervently romantic theme. Then there’s “Juke Box Värtinnä”. A delicate, almost madrigal-like song, the arrangement isolates different timbres so completely that each saxophone can be identified within the polyphonic performance.

Oddly enough, the liveliest track, the nearly 10-minute “Juke Box Detroit” is dedicated to The White Stripes rather than more appropriately John Lee Hooker, the MC5 or Tamla-Motown. Still the urban grit of the city appears to be reflected in the baritonist’s tongue stops and slaps and the tenorist’s rapid-fire riffing. Finally after the other horns move in counterpoint to guttural bari riffs, the extended shout chorus climaxes with all the horns tonguing in different tempi, leading to a restatement of the melody – which is also deconstructed as it’s sounded.

Sophisticated, coalesced saxophone science – and art – is demonstrated on each of these notable discs.

-- Ken Waxman

.

Track Listing: Roulette: 1. Who Asked Racine? 2. Brew for the Birds 3. Stick, Twist or Bust 4. On Alto On Tenor 5. The Artist’s Response 6. On Core En Cours

Personnel: Roulette: Ned Rothenberg (alto saxophone, clarinet and bass clarinet) and Evan Parker (soprano and tenor saxophone)

Track Listing: Juke Box: 1. Juke Box Afro Balkan 2. Juke Box Mambo 3. Juke Box Niggum 4. Juke Box Detroit 5. Juke Box Hang Up 6. Juke Box Choro 7. Juke Box Värtinnä

Personnel: Juke Box: Bruce Ackley (soprano and tenor saxophones); Steve Adams (alto saxophone); Larry Ochs (sopranino and tenor saxophones) and Jon Raskin (alto and baritone saxophones)

Track Listing: Propagations: 1. Propagations

Personnel: Propagations: Stéphane Rives (soprano saxophone); Marc Baron and Jean-Luc Guionnet (alto saxophones) and Bertrand Denzler tenor saxophone)

January 31, 2008

Marc Baron/Bertrand Denzler/Jean-Luc Guionnet/Stéphane Rives

Propagations
Potlatch P107

ROVA

The Juke Box Suite

Not Two MW 786-2

Evan Parker & Ned Rothenberg

Live At Roulette

Animul ANI 106

With unaccompanied group reed sessions now commonplace in improvised music, the challenge remains to make them more than technical exercises. Each of these notable CD succeeds in doing so; but each does so in an individual manner.

As could be expected from its populist title, The Juke Box Suite is probably the most lyrical of the many CDs from the Bay area-based ROVA quartet, which arguably pioneered the four saxophone concept in improv. Propagations, on the other hand, features a quartet of young French saxophonists, who have only performed in this formation since 2003. Completely eschewing the song form, the group’s one long performance uses textures, layering and arrangements that use reeds as sound sources rather than melody extensions. A duo, rather than a quartet like those on the other CDs, Brooklyn-based Ned Rothenberg and London-based Evan Parker exhibit their mastery of the multi-reed form by blending different combinations of Rothenberg’s three reeds and Parker’s two on six live performances.

Each Parker-Rothenberg coupling produces a different sonic. The alto (Rothenberg) and tenor (Parker) saxophone mix on “Who Asked Racine”, for instance, ricochets between very brisk and very slack timbres. Intertwined, contrapuntal and augmented with held note that are hocketed or snorted, the continuous reflective lines seem initially to be only Parker’s. But following Rothenberg rappelling down the scale with accompanying trills, the extended timbres bring both to warm modulations by the conclusion.

Parker’s characteristic circular breathing on soprano saxophone gets a work out on “Brew for the Birds”, although Rothenberg’s tongue-slapping clarinet work reaches an equal level of high-pitched coloratura. The note aspiration is such that the two twitter and chirp counterlines at one another, eventually negating any spare pauses left in the interaction. The clarinetist’s whistling legato phrasing perfectly connects to Parker intense, staccato vibrations.

In contrast, “The Artist’s Response” with Rothenberg on alto saxophone and Parker on soprano saxophone opens up the sound field with overblown trills and tongue-stopping contrapuntal pulses. With the output expressed in polytones as well as palindromes, this curvaceous intermezzo features so many circling, winding and gradated timbres that not only is it difficult to distinguish one saxman from the other, but at times the two sound like an entire sax section.

That’s something that may not be as evident on Propagations, even though the all the horns for a saxophone section are present. It may be because each reedist has evolved both a microtonal and macro-tonal playing style. Alto saxophonist Jean-Luc Guionnet and tenor saxophonist Bertrand Denzler are in the minimalist Hubbub band, but Guionnet also plays Energy Music with The Fish, and Denzler has recorded with more outgoing types like pianist John Wolf Brennan. Alto saxophonist Marc Baron has recorded as part of clarinetist Louis Sclavis’ band. Only soprano saxophonist Stéphane Rives is a strict microtonalist – at least on record.

Nuanced and layered, the collective improvisation on this CD relies most frequently on breaths forced through the horns’ body tubes as well as the siren-like textures created by intense reed biting. As the moderato piece evolves, complex loops of sound are used in such a way that the tonal centre constantly shifts, subtly exposing shards, sparkles and sprinkles of multiphonics which are as much in the background as the foreground.

Individual saxophones announce themselves through peeps, glottal punctuation, key percussion and tongue slaps. But as much as fortissimo but brief reed squeals are the norm, so are extended pauses. Infrequently as well, the four take up the role of a conventional sax section with one soloist performing individual reed gymnastics as around him the other three undulate overtones that reach organ-like cushioning tones.

By the piece’s final variation the slowly oscillating pulses do reach past fortissimo to occupy the entire sound field. Coalescing as one solid mass, the timbre moves in a straight line, studded with balanced growls, flattement vibrato and pulsating glissandi. Eventually it seems as if all the oxygen remaining in the studio has almost been sucked into the bells of the horns.

After showcasing broken-octave accelerated tones from each saxophone in succession, the four reach a crescendo of irregularly vibrated quadruple counterpoint that then diminishes to a finale of barely-there body tube echoes, metallic puffs and ear-straining, ever-lengthening then conclusive silences.

Protracted silences aren’t really programmed on The Juke Box Suite, but you wouldn’t expect this from the seven tracks – all composed by alto and baritone saxophonist Jon Raskin – that honor Balkan, Afro-Cuban and African music, and individually one of the fathers of modern Brazilian music; a writer who was both a socialist and a Yiddishist; a Finnish folk super group; big city R&B and rock music; and a German-American minimalist painter.

With all due respect to the composer, the dedications in the titles seem to promise more disparity among the tunes than the music itself. That said, the seven are individually and collectively rhythmically exciting and improvisationally sophisticated. Listen, for instance to the striking polyphonic cries on “Juke Box Niggum” from either Bruce Ackley’s or Larry Och’s tenor saxophone, which creates dancing, ecstatic trills, ornamented by pumping slurs from Raskin’s baritone saxophone.

Contrast that with the singing sopranino lines and tenor saxophone obbligatos which push against one another contrapuntally on “Juke Box Choro”. Again the baritone provides the bottom, tenor and alto (Steve Adams), chime in with mid-range trills as Ochs’ sopranino outlines the fervently romantic theme. Then there’s “Juke Box Värtinnä”. A delicate, almost madrigal-like song, the arrangement isolates different timbres so completely that each saxophone can be identified within the polyphonic performance.

Oddly enough, the liveliest track, the nearly 10-minute “Juke Box Detroit” is dedicated to The White Stripes rather than more appropriately John Lee Hooker, the MC5 or Tamla-Motown. Still the urban grit of the city appears to be reflected in the baritonist’s tongue stops and slaps and the tenorist’s rapid-fire riffing. Finally after the other horns move in counterpoint to guttural bari riffs, the extended shout chorus climaxes with all the horns tonguing in different tempi, leading to a restatement of the melody – which is also deconstructed as it’s sounded.

Sophisticated, coalesced saxophone science – and art – is demonstrated on each of these notable discs.

-- Ken Waxman

.

Track Listing: Roulette: 1. Who Asked Racine? 2. Brew for the Birds 3. Stick, Twist or Bust 4. On Alto On Tenor 5. The Artist’s Response 6. On Core En Cours

Personnel: Roulette: Ned Rothenberg (alto saxophone, clarinet and bass clarinet) and Evan Parker (soprano and tenor saxophone)

Track Listing: Juke Box: 1. Juke Box Afro Balkan 2. Juke Box Mambo 3. Juke Box Niggum 4. Juke Box Detroit 5. Juke Box Hang Up 6. Juke Box Choro 7. Juke Box Värtinnä

Personnel: Juke Box: Bruce Ackley (soprano and tenor saxophones); Steve Adams (alto saxophone); Larry Ochs (sopranino and tenor saxophones) and Jon Raskin (alto and baritone saxophones)

Track Listing: Propagations: 1. Propagations

Personnel: Propagations: Stéphane Rives (soprano saxophone); Marc Baron and Jean-Luc Guionnet (alto saxophones) and Bertrand Denzler tenor saxophone)

January 31, 2008

ROVA

The Juke Box Suite
Not Two MW 786-2

Marc Baron/Bertrand Denzler/Jean-Luc Guionnet/Stéphane Rives

Propagation
s

Potlatch P107

Evan Parker & Ned Rothenberg

Live At Roulette

Animul ANI 106

With unaccompanied group reed sessions now commonplace in improvised music, the challenge remains to make them more than technical exercises. Each of these notable CD succeeds in doing so; but each does so in an individual manner.

As could be expected from its populist title, The Juke Box Suite is probably the most lyrical of the many CDs from the Bay area-based ROVA quartet, which arguably pioneered the four saxophone concept in improv. Propagations, on the other hand, features a quartet of young French saxophonists, who have only performed in this formation since 2003. Completely eschewing the song form, the group’s one long performance uses textures, layering and arrangements that use reeds as sound sources rather than melody extensions. A duo, rather than a quartet like those on the other CDs, Brooklyn-based Ned Rothenberg and London-based Evan Parker exhibit their mastery of the multi-reed form by blending different combinations of Rothenberg’s three reeds and Parker’s two on six live performances.

Each Parker-Rothenberg coupling produces a different sonic. The alto (Rothenberg) and tenor (Parker) saxophone mix on “Who Asked Racine”, for instance, ricochets between very brisk and very slack timbres. Intertwined, contrapuntal and augmented with held note that are hocketed or snorted, the continuous reflective lines seem initially to be only Parker’s. But following Rothenberg rappelling down the scale with accompanying trills, the extended timbres bring both to warm modulations by the conclusion.

Parker’s characteristic circular breathing on soprano saxophone gets a work out on “Brew for the Birds”, although Rothenberg’s tongue-slapping clarinet work reaches an equal level of high-pitched coloratura. The note aspiration is such that the two twitter and chirp counterlines at one another, eventually negating any spare pauses left in the interaction. The clarinetist’s whistling legato phrasing perfectly connects to Parker intense, staccato vibrations.

In contrast, “The Artist’s Response” with Rothenberg on alto saxophone and Parker on soprano saxophone opens up the sound field with overblown trills and tongue-stopping contrapuntal pulses. With the output expressed in polytones as well as palindromes, this curvaceous intermezzo features so many circling, winding and gradated timbres that not only is it difficult to distinguish one saxman from the other, but at times the two sound like an entire sax section.

That’s something that may not be as evident on Propagations, even though the all the horns for a saxophone section are present. It may be because each reedist has evolved both a microtonal and macro-tonal playing style. Alto saxophonist Jean-Luc Guionnet and tenor saxophonist Bertrand Denzler are in the minimalist Hubbub band, but Guionnet also plays Energy Music with The Fish, and Denzler has recorded with more outgoing types like pianist John Wolf Brennan. Alto saxophonist Marc Baron has recorded as part of clarinetist Louis Sclavis’ band. Only soprano saxophonist Stéphane Rives is a strict microtonalist – at least on record.

Nuanced and layered, the collective improvisation on this CD relies most frequently on breaths forced through the horns’ body tubes as well as the siren-like textures created by intense reed biting. As the moderato piece evolves, complex loops of sound are used in such a way that the tonal centre constantly shifts, subtly exposing shards, sparkles and sprinkles of multiphonics which are as much in the background as the foreground.

Individual saxophones announce themselves through peeps, glottal punctuation, key percussion and tongue slaps. But as much as fortissimo but brief reed squeals are the norm, so are extended pauses. Infrequently as well, the four take up the role of a conventional sax section with one soloist performing individual reed gymnastics as around him the other three undulate overtones that reach organ-like cushioning tones.

By the piece’s final variation the slowly oscillating pulses do reach past fortissimo to occupy the entire sound field. Coalescing as one solid mass, the timbre moves in a straight line, studded with balanced growls, flattement vibrato and pulsating glissandi. Eventually it seems as if all the oxygen remaining in the studio has almost been sucked into the bells of the horns.

After showcasing broken-octave accelerated tones from each saxophone in succession, the four reach a crescendo of irregularly vibrated quadruple counterpoint that then diminishes to a finale of barely-there body tube echoes, metallic puffs and ear-straining, ever-lengthening then conclusive silences.

Protracted silences aren’t really programmed on The Juke Box Suite, but you wouldn’t expect this from the seven tracks – all composed by alto and baritone saxophonist Jon Raskin – that honor Balkan, Afro-Cuban and African music, and individually one of the fathers of modern Brazilian music; a writer who was both a socialist and a Yiddishist; a Finnish folk super group; big city R&B and rock music; and a German-American minimalist painter.

With all due respect to the composer, the dedications in the titles seem to promise more disparity among the tunes than the music itself. That said, the seven are individually and collectively rhythmically exciting and improvisationally sophisticated. Listen, for instance to the striking polyphonic cries on “Juke Box Niggum” from either Bruce Ackley’s or Larry Och’s tenor saxophone, which creates dancing, ecstatic trills, ornamented by pumping slurs from Raskin’s baritone saxophone.

Contrast that with the singing sopranino lines and tenor saxophone obbligatos which push against one another contrapuntally on “Juke Box Choro”. Again the baritone provides the bottom, tenor and alto (Steve Adams), chime in with mid-range trills as Ochs’ sopranino outlines the fervently romantic theme. Then there’s “Juke Box Värtinnä”. A delicate, almost madrigal-like song, the arrangement isolates different timbres so completely that each saxophone can be identified within the polyphonic performance.

Oddly enough, the liveliest track, the nearly 10-minute “Juke Box Detroit” is dedicated to The White Stripes rather than more appropriately John Lee Hooker, the MC5 or Tamla-Motown. Still the urban grit of the city appears to be reflected in the baritonist’s tongue stops and slaps and the tenorist’s rapid-fire riffing. Finally after the other horns move in counterpoint to guttural bari riffs, the extended shout chorus climaxes with all the horns tonguing in different tempi, leading to a restatement of the melody – which is also deconstructed as it’s sounded.

Sophisticated, coalesced saxophone science – and art – is demonstrated on each of these notable discs.

-- Ken Waxman

.

Track Listing: Roulette: 1. Who Asked Racine? 2. Brew for the Birds 3. Stick, Twist or Bust 4. On Alto On Tenor 5. The Artist’s Response 6. On Core En Cours

Personnel: Roulette: Ned Rothenberg (alto saxophone, clarinet and bass clarinet) and Evan Parker (soprano and tenor saxophone)

Track Listing: Juke Box: 1. Juke Box Afro Balkan 2. Juke Box Mambo 3. Juke Box Niggum 4. Juke Box Detroit 5. Juke Box Hang Up 6. Juke Box Choro 7. Juke Box Värtinnä

Personnel: Juke Box: Bruce Ackley (soprano and tenor saxophones); Steve Adams (alto saxophone); Larry Ochs (sopranino and tenor saxophones) and Jon Raskin (alto and baritone saxophones)

Track Listing: Propagations: 1. Propagations

Personnel: Propagations: Stéphane Rives (soprano saxophone); Marc Baron and Jean-Luc Guionnet (alto saxophones) and Bertrand Denzler tenor saxophone)

January 31, 2008

Evan Parker & Ned Rothenberg

Live At Roulette
Animul ANI 106

Marc Baron/Bertrand Denzler/Jean-Luc Guionnet/Stéphane Rives

Propagations

Potlatch P107

ROVA

The Juke Box Suite

Not Two MW 786-2

With unaccompanied group reed sessions now commonplace in improvised music, the challenge remains to make them more than technical exercises. Each of these notable CD succeeds in doing so; but each does so in an individual manner.

As could be expected from its populist title, The Juke Box Suite is probably the most lyrical of the many CDs from the Bay area-based ROVA quartet, which arguably pioneered the four saxophone concept in improv. Propagations, on the other hand, features a quartet of young French saxophonists, who have only performed in this formation since 2003. Completely eschewing the song form, the group’s one long performance uses textures, layering and arrangements that use reeds as sound sources rather than melody extensions. A duo, rather than a quartet like those on the other CDs, Brooklyn-based Ned Rothenberg and London-based Evan Parker exhibit their mastery of the multi-reed form by blending different combinations of Rothenberg’s three reeds and Parker’s two on six live performances.

Each Parker-Rothenberg coupling produces a different sonic. The alto (Rothenberg) and tenor (Parker) saxophone mix on “Who Asked Racine”, for instance, ricochets between very brisk and very slack timbres. Intertwined, contrapuntal and augmented with held note that are hocketed or snorted, the continuous reflective lines seem initially to be only Parker’s. But following Rothenberg rappelling down the scale with accompanying trills, the extended timbres bring both to warm modulations by the conclusion.

Parker’s characteristic circular breathing on soprano saxophone gets a work out on “Brew for the Birds”, although Rothenberg’s tongue-slapping clarinet work reaches an equal level of high-pitched coloratura. The note aspiration is such that the two twitter and chirp counterlines at one another, eventually negating any spare pauses left in the interaction. The clarinetist’s whistling legato phrasing perfectly connects to Parker intense, staccato vibrations.

In contrast, “The Artist’s Response” with Rothenberg on alto saxophone and Parker on soprano saxophone opens up the sound field with overblown trills and tongue-stopping contrapuntal pulses. With the output expressed in polytones as well as palindromes, this curvaceous intermezzo features so many circling, winding and gradated timbres that not only is it difficult to distinguish one saxman from the other, but at times the two sound like an entire sax section.

That’s something that may not be as evident on Propagations, even though the all the horns for a saxophone section are present. It may be because each reedist has evolved both a microtonal and macro-tonal playing style. Alto saxophonist Jean-Luc Guionnet and tenor saxophonist Bertrand Denzler are in the minimalist Hubbub band, but Guionnet also plays Energy Music with The Fish, and Denzler has recorded with more outgoing types like pianist John Wolf Brennan. Alto saxophonist Marc Baron has recorded as part of clarinetist Louis Sclavis’ band. Only soprano saxophonist Stéphane Rives is a strict microtonalist – at least on record.

Nuanced and layered, the collective improvisation on this CD relies most frequently on breaths forced through the horns’ body tubes as well as the siren-like textures created by intense reed biting. As the moderato piece evolves, complex loops of sound are used in such a way that the tonal centre constantly shifts, subtly exposing shards, sparkles and sprinkles of multiphonics which are as much in the background as the foreground.

Individual saxophones announce themselves through peeps, glottal punctuation, key percussion and tongue slaps. But as much as fortissimo but brief reed squeals are the norm, so are extended pauses. Infrequently as well, the four take up the role of a conventional sax section with one soloist performing individual reed gymnastics as around him the other three undulate overtones that reach organ-like cushioning tones.

By the piece’s final variation the slowly oscillating pulses do reach past fortissimo to occupy the entire sound field. Coalescing as one solid mass, the timbre moves in a straight line, studded with balanced growls, flattement vibrato and pulsating glissandi. Eventually it seems as if all the oxygen remaining in the studio has almost been sucked into the bells of the horns.

After showcasing broken-octave accelerated tones from each saxophone in succession, the four reach a crescendo of irregularly vibrated quadruple counterpoint that then diminishes to a finale of barely-there body tube echoes, metallic puffs and ear-straining, ever-lengthening then conclusive silences.

Protracted silences aren’t really programmed on The Juke Box Suite, but you wouldn’t expect this from the seven tracks – all composed by alto and baritone saxophonist Jon Raskin – that honor Balkan, Afro-Cuban and African music, and individually one of the fathers of modern Brazilian music; a writer who was both a socialist and a Yiddishist; a Finnish folk super group; big city R&B and rock music; and a German-American minimalist painter.

With all due respect to the composer, the dedications in the titles seem to promise more disparity among the tunes than the music itself. That said, the seven are individually and collectively rhythmically exciting and improvisationally sophisticated. Listen, for instance to the striking polyphonic cries on “Juke Box Niggum” from either Bruce Ackley’s or Larry Och’s tenor saxophone, which creates dancing, ecstatic trills, ornamented by pumping slurs from Raskin’s baritone saxophone.

Contrast that with the singing sopranino lines and tenor saxophone obbligatos which push against one another contrapuntally on “Juke Box Choro”. Again the baritone provides the bottom, tenor and alto (Steve Adams), chime in with mid-range trills as Ochs’ sopranino outlines the fervently romantic theme. Then there’s “Juke Box Värtinnä”. A delicate, almost madrigal-like song, the arrangement isolates different timbres so completely that each saxophone can be identified within the polyphonic performance.

Oddly enough, the liveliest track, the nearly 10-minute “Juke Box Detroit” is dedicated to The White Stripes rather than more appropriately John Lee Hooker, the MC5 or Tamla-Motown. Still the urban grit of the city appears to be reflected in the baritonist’s tongue stops and slaps and the tenorist’s rapid-fire riffing. Finally after the other horns move in counterpoint to guttural bari riffs, the extended shout chorus climaxes with all the horns tonguing in different tempi, leading to a restatement of the melody – which is also deconstructed as it’s sounded.

Sophisticated, coalesced saxophone science – and art – is demonstrated on each of these notable discs.

-- Ken Waxman

.

Track Listing: Roulette: 1. Who Asked Racine? 2. Brew for the Birds 3. Stick, Twist or Bust 4. On Alto On Tenor 5. The Artist’s Response 6. On Core En Cours

Personnel: Roulette: Ned Rothenberg (alto saxophone, clarinet and bass clarinet) and Evan Parker (soprano and tenor saxophone)

Track Listing: Juke Box: 1. Juke Box Afro Balkan 2. Juke Box Mambo 3. Juke Box Niggum 4. Juke Box Detroit 5. Juke Box Hang Up 6. Juke Box Choro 7. Juke Box Värtinnä

Personnel: Juke Box: Bruce Ackley (soprano and tenor saxophones); Steve Adams (alto saxophone); Larry Ochs (sopranino and tenor saxophones) and Jon Raskin (alto and baritone saxophones)

Track Listing: Propagations: 1. Propagations

Personnel: Propagations: Stéphane Rives (soprano saxophone); Marc Baron and Jean-Luc Guionnet (alto saxophones) and Bertrand Denzler tenor saxophone)

January 31, 2008

Ken Waxman’s Top CDs for 2007

[In alphabetical order]
For CODA Issue 337

1. Muhal Richard Abrams, Vision Towards Essence Pi Recordings Pi23

2. Johannes Bauer/Thomas Lehn/Jon Rose, Futch Jazzwerkstatt JW 010

3. Bruce Eisenbeil Sextet, Inner Constellation Volume One. Nemu 007

4. Exploding Customer, At Your Service Ayler aylCD-063

5. Scott Fields Ensemble, Beckett Clean Feed CFO69 CD

6. Frank Gratkowski/Misha Mengelberg, Vis-à-vis Leo CD LR 476

7. François Houle, Evan Parker, Benoît Delbecq La Lumière de Pierres psi 07.02

8. Lucas Niggli Big Zoom, Celebrate Diversity Intakt CD 118

9. Quartestski Does Prokofiev, Visions Fugitives OP. 22 Ambiances Magnétiques AM 171 CD

10. Elliott Sharp & Reinhold Friedl, Feuchtify EMANEM 4133

Plus Two reissues:

• Charles Mingus, Music Written for Monterey, 1965 Not Heard … Played Live in Its Entirety at UCLA Sue Mingus Music/Sunnyside SSC 3041

• Andrea Centazzo Mitteleuropa Orchestra, The Complete Recordings Collection 1980-1981; The Complete Recordings Collection 1982-1983 Ictus Records Special Collection Vol. 1-3, Vol. 4-6

January 15, 2008

Jazz à Mulhouse gives a loving French kiss to Improvised music

By Ken Waxman
For CODA Issue 337

Impressive saxophone and reed displays were the focus of the 24th Edition of Jazz à Mulhouse in France in late August. Overall however, most of the 19 performances maintained a constant high quality. This may have something to do with the fact that unlike larger, flashier and more commercial festivals, Jazz à Mulhouse (JAM) is an almost folksy showcase for improvisation.

Located less than 20 minutes away by train from Basel, Switzerland, Mulhouse is a mid-sized city of 150,000 in eastern France long known as an industrial textile centre. Low-key, JAM is rather like the Festival International de Musique Actuelle de Victoriaville (FIMAV), with better restaurants.

Except for an opening concert by French guitarist Noël Akchoté, which this year was in a crowded downtown club that looks as if its standard fare is pop chansonniers, all other shows take place in two wildly dissimilar venues. The mid-day solo piano series is showcased in the acoustically austere Chapelle St. Jean. Located in mid-town, it’s a 12th Century stone church with vaulted ceilings, bas-reliefs at eye level and two gigantic sun dials, high up on opposite walls facing the stage.

In late afternoon, a JAM-organized free shuttle bus takes the audience out to the suburbs near the streetcar terminus for evening shows at the Noumatrouff, an expansive, hanger-like space that is usually a rock club, complete with grungy washrooms and a beer tent. With a two-hour gap between early-and-late performances, audience members mix, mingle, chat, chow down on their own food or what’s available from a couple of vendors, and sample the local beer.

What follows is a selection of most of the festivals highlights, with mention of a few less-than-stellar performances.

Disappointedly in fact, Akchoté opened the festivities with a nearly listless solo set that skirted shoe-gazing pop jazz. The Swiss Lucien Dubois trio which preceded him, featured a break-dancing drummer, a bass guitarist warbling lachrymose ballads and was only notable for the leader’s reed prowess..

In the piano series, Belgium’s Fred Van Hove and Switzerland’s Irène Schweizer represent the first generation of Euro improvisers and France’s Frédéric Blondy and Sophie Agnel the contemporary ones. With his waves of long white hair Van Hover, 70, resembles a caricature of a 19th Century classical virtuoso and his playing seemed to reflect this. Concentrating on easy-flowing glissandi and heavy-handed echoing timbres he created a waterfall of upwards pitched timbres with dense centres that were then smoothed down into sharp individual notes. Without using the pedals he exposed low frequency percussive rhythms that literally made audience members jump, then concluded with a calmer theme variation.

Harder and faster in execution, Schweizer’s recital exposed a cyclone of sharp note-twisting vamps that slithered between very low and very high pitches with references to classical music appearing and vanishing in seconds, plus slapped keys and subterranean pitches reminiscent of Herbie Nichols. Schweizer’s heightened rhythmic sense came through even when she used mallets to poke at the piano’s innards. With a continuous ostinato, her solo was more jazz-like than Van Hove’s, quoting “Blue Monk” and what sounded like “Prelude to a Kiss”. Despite her 10-finger flourishes, she telescoped variations so that the piece’s head was recapped before the end.

After a vigorous late-night concert the day before with fellow Gallic improvisers cellist Martine Altenburger and saxophonist Bertrand Gauguet, Blondy spent the first part of his recital exploring the nooks and crannies of his piano. With a mallet, a small cymbal and other implements he yanked buzzes, squeaks, pings and whistles from the strings. On the keys, he sometimes sounded like a combination of David Tudor and Knuckles O’Toole; on one hand creating high-frequency glissandi and suspended tones, and on the other alluding to “Flight of the Bumblebee”. Mumbling to himself and pulling faces while he played, Blondy’s frenzied key slashes, flying fingers and full forearm smacks led to an encore where his body language seemed to suggest that by nearly smothering the keyboard he could impale himself onto the sharp notes created.

A day earlier Angel, who along with Akchoté and British saxophonist Evan Parker, spent the week guiding and rehearsing separate student ensembles, was calmer than Blondy. More stately and sombre in her presentation than the other three pianists, much of her improvising focused on bottoming ostinatos and ricocheting timbres, as well as voicings that involved the piano’s wood as well as its keys. Paper clips, hard rubber balls and other objects were adhered to the piano strings before she began. During the course of her performance she would pluck a key then immediately stop it with a tool; create a series of lyrical patterns on top of vibrating drones, or wet her fingers with her tongue and apply those fingers to the piano strings. Climatic passages used the pressure of both hands to create throbbing, buzzing notes which worked their way into additional furtive arpeggios.

Masterful saxophone stylists were as well represented as keyboardists. Notable sets included one from British soprano saxophonist Tom Chant – with two unheralded but masterful French Free Jazz practitioners: bassist Benjamin Duboc and sensitive percussionist Didier Lasserre – who could be termed the discovery of the festival for a North American; Swiss soprano saxophonist Urs Leimgruber, whose sparse adaptive unity with French pianist Jacques Demierre and long-time American expatriate in France bassist Barre Philips set a high standard for chamber improv; alto and soprano saxophonist Gauguet; and an utterly time-suspending set from Parker’s long-time British trio of drummer Paul Lytton and bassist Barry Guy augmented by Catalan pianist Augustí Fernández.

With Blondy in full Jerry Lee Lewis-like pounding form and Gauguet, a breath-machine using every variety of extended reed techniques plus altering his sound by pressing his bell against a pant leg or swaddling it in tin foil, it was Altenburger who provided lyrical, yet perfectly in-synch connective passages. More admirable than congenial, the overall impression the trio’s set left was that some levity would improve this impressive chops showcase.

Chant’s pant leg was also put to good use during a few of his bubbling, note-stretching solos as well. But his output of small gestures and concise tones plus the powerful thwacks and plucks of Duboc’s tuning-peg-to-spike and sensitive double-bow exhibitions were subtly overshadowed by Lasserre’s bravura percussion skills. Missing no necessary sonic despite using a miniature kit of one bass drum, one snare and one cymbal, Lasserre unveiled squeaks, pats and silences with his bare hands and a variety of mallets and sticks for a cross section of discordant yet complementary tones. Other praiseworthy percussionists were the expected – Lytton with Parker and long-time Free Jazzer German Paul Lovens in his two appearances – and the unexpected: Japan’s Makoto Sato, with his soft mallets and Butoh dancer cool. Unfortunately Sato was part of the Marteau Rouge trio, whose guitarist and synthesizer player’s droning jams and amp sludge were more appropriate for ProgRock freak-outs circa 1967 then a 2007 jazz festival.

Polyphonically connective, the Leimgruber/Demierre/Phillips set was probably the festival’s most unpremeditatedly visual. It featured the saxophonist slowly disassembling his tenor saxophone and methodically twisting and blowing through different parts; Phillips sawing on his bass’ shoulder with his bow and playing so passionately that the bow’s horsehair streamed; and Demierre’s jack-in-the-box leaps and elbow-on-the keys emphasis. Additionally, the pianist pumped out stubby contrapuntal lines and buzzy soundboard textures, perfect accompaniment for the saxophonist’s pseudo duck calls and animated circular breathing.

Climax of the festival was literally its finale, an intense, nearly 90-minute set by Parker, Guy, Lytton and Fernández. An exercise in controlled brutality, the surges of sound unified during three extended improvisations, which despite the breadth of technique on display found the four operating like a well-coordinated assembly line, with motifs and themes passed from one to another.

This was in sharp contrast to the Charles Gayle trio set that preceded it. Now exclusively playing alto saxophone, Gayle still overblows his characteristic squalls, squeaks and screams, alternately altissimo and with fog-horn-like echoes. But despite excursions to the piano where he seemed to delight in producing dissonant Monkish runs, and donning the slouch hat and clown’s red nose of his “Streets” character as he tried out Stride riffs, something was lacking. Perhaps it was because British drummer Mark Sanders was in the rhythm section along with Gayle’s regular bassist Gerald Benson. The disparity between the bassist’s low-key swipes and the drummer’s harder and thicker tones was obvious. Obviously uncomfortable Gayle’s attempted to solder this disconnect by animatedly barking out command and counting out “Giant Steps” with foot stomps before trading fours with the drummer.

Back to the Parker crew: whether it was the unseasonable heat in the auditorium, the late hour, or the privilege of watching master stylists at work, but most audience members stayed hushed – nearly mesmerized – during the proceeding. Aloof, Lytton busied himself displaying and manipulating various parts of his stripped-down kit; banging small hard objects on top of his cymbals when the mood struck; resonating woody tones other times, and massaging rhythmic surfaces with his palms and a variety of implements. Athletic and limber, Guy appears to have the ability to produce sounds from both the front and back of his bass, no matter where the strings are located. Not only did he slip, strike and slide along his strings, but he also shook the instrument itself, gathered its strings together for massive plucks and multiplied the available textures with two bows vibrating among the strings, plus thwacking on the string set with what appeared to be a drum stick.

Although Spanish, Fernández often applied body English to his arpeggios and chords and moved his arms crab-like across the keyboard. At one point he bounded from the piano bench to trap high-frequency tinkles at the top of the soundboard, then manually manipulated the string’ speaking length. At times he seems to be karate-chopping the keys into submission. This physicality was usually complemented by Guy smacking and tapping his strings at his bass’s southern portion beneath the bridge and Lytton creating a cluster of cymbal reverb.

Initially tongue-slapping and twittering long sweeping lines so that his soprano saxophone sounded like a piccolo, Parker filled his solos with circular breathing, verbalized honks and shouts. Always in control, his nearly endless streams of intense vibrated notes didn’t vary as he remained rooted on one spot while playing.

Other groups that made impressions earlier on, ranged from the gargantuan to the diminutive. In the first category was the 22-piece Lille (France)-based La Pieuvre band, the members of which were lead in a conduction by Oliver Benoit. The many-armed group, (“Octopus” in English) smeared and rappelled through accelerating crescendos, dark, dramatic pauses and a fog of buzzing and blowing. With blustering brass solos and a collective improvisation for its saxophone section, at time the Octopus seemed to suck all oxygen from the room.

Also notable were two duos: Kiff Kiff from Lyon, France and Germans Lehn/Lovens. Trombonist Alain Gibert and his son, bass clarinetist Clément, who are Kiff Kiff, played for the most part airy, “folkloric” tunes – sometimes with words – that brought to mind the original Jimmy Giuffre3. Nevertheless there was nothing effete about the improvisations, since when he wanted to, the older Gibert produced a roistering gutbucket tone, and the younger paid homage to Eric Dolphy in many of his solos. Still among five days of more-or-less “out” music, Kiff Kiff’s lightly rhythmic melodies probably sounded more Mainstream then they are.

No one could confuse the agitated improvising of drummer Paul Lovens and analogue synthesizer player Thomas Lehn with the Mainstream. A former pianist, Lehn uses his electronic instrument like a keyboard and lunges, swivels and sways as he plays. Divorced from too-clean electronic signals, his old-fashioned synth quacked like Donald Duck, expelled trumpet-like spetrofluctuation, buzzed, clinked and clanked.

Meantime Lovens – who the day before had a busier interaction with French bassist Joëlle Léandre and Anerican-born, German-resident vocalist Lauren Newton in a set that didn’t seem to gel – appeared more relaxed with Lehn and his playing more commanding. A photo of Lehn with his white shirt and narrow black tie, was prominently featured on the JAM program and posters and he wore this nearly traded-marked outfit each time he was on stage. With Lehn, whose input-output interface and triggered pulses were warm and humanistic, Lovens used a combination of single strokes and connective rhythms to cement moods..

The percussionist rubbed his snare top as Lehn plucked chords from his sythn, and hit his attached cymbals vertically and horizontally while sometimes spinning smaller, unattached others. A common trope was scraping a vertical drum stick on the ride cymbal creating a tone as constant as, but less irritating than, chalk on a blackboard. Textures from Lovens’ wood block were often exposed as were thumps from his bass drum. Overall, this unshowy exhibition of sensitive percussion styling was a festival trait he shared with Lytton, Lasserre and Sato.

A focus on music-making, not crowd pandering is what sets apart Jazz à Mulhouse from more commercial festivals Still, there was enough high quality audience-pleasing music to explain the respect it engenders.

January 9, 2008

Evan Parker/Matthew Shipp

Abbey Road Duos
Treader trd 009

Confluence of musical improvisations at the highest plane, this CD captures a cross-generational melding of minds between a veteran British saxophonist and an accomplished American pianist. Although tenor and soprano saxophonist Evan Parker (b. 1944) initially solidified his mature style around when Matthew Shipp (b. 1960) was taking his first piano lessons, the inspired performances suggest no generational or geographic gap.

If any fissure exists, it’s that the British reedist’s tone is initially uncharacteristically breathy and gentle on the four-track tenor saxophone suite. Later as the pianist’s undertow of arpeggios hardens to metronomic pounding, exposing the keyboard’s timbral limits, broad-chested tenor exhalations solidify into harsh split tones, reed bites and note smears.

Softer and more deliberate overall, the subsequent four-part soprano saxophone suite is nearly a scherzo. Shipp humorously and percussively pitches rubato patterns extended by pedal work in direct counterpoint to Parker’s pinched bubbles of whistling trills and tongue stops. Eventually the saxophonist expands his characteristic archetype of circular breathing tropes, squeezing and splashing tone clusters to outline the andante melody. Shipp’s repeated accompanying motif, hardens as it relies on continuous glissandi.

Abbey Road Duos proves that concentrated and cerebral inspiration trumps any purported differences when top-flight improvisation is fashioned

-- Ken Waxman

-- For Whole Note Vol. 13 #3

November 2, 2007

Evan Parker

The Topography of the Lungs
psi 06.05

More heard about than heard, ever since Britons Derek Bailey and Evan Parker had their falling out in 1987, which included the proviso that The Topography of the Lungs (Incus 1), would not be reissued as long as Bailey ran the Incus label, the 1970 four-track LP has taken on the status of a totemic object.

Finally available again on Parker’s psi label, following Bailey’s death, and expanded with two additional tracks, the 1970 session lives up to its reputation as a defining artifact of European Free Improv. Yet 36 years later what resulted from the collaboration among Parker on soprano and tenor saxophones, Bailey on guitar and Dutch percussionist Han Bennink now sounds if not commonplace, at least contemporary. The saxophonist’s split tones and extended slurs, Bailey’s fastidious string manipulating and bending plus Bennink’s volleys of cymbal scratching and drum top pummeling have become lingua franca of a certain segment of the improv world.

To be honest the “new” tracks “Found Elsewhere I” and “Found Elsewhere 2” don’t add much to the existing session. There is bell-like resonation from the drummer’s kit, vibrating piles of cracked notes from the guitarist and quacking tongue slaps plus false register forays from the saxophonist; but these strategies would be explored in more detail in subsequent decades. One standout, however, is the virtual spiccato fiddle line Parker creates on the first track. In this case, the altissimo resonation is almost unique among his solos.

As for the touchstone session itself, its celebration of dissonance and absolute music at a time when jazz-rock and lesser instrumental sounds were in ascendancy could be its most revolutionary aspect.

Even the Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians (ACCM) players who were beginning to be recorded tempered their freeform experiments with rhythmic and blues-like echoes of earlier styles. Not Bailey, Parker and Bennink.

From the first minutes of track one, “Titan Moon”, the saxophonist is contrapuntally matching pressured tongue stops and smears against slurred finger picking and single string snaps from the guitarist, while Bennink clatters away on snare, toms and ride cymbal. Bailey’s rasping claw-hammer downstrokes on the area below the bridge plus Parker’s strident echoing squeaks and power multiphonics are already firmly in place.

But 2006 listeners might be most surprised to realize that the mid-point of the piece includes a period of protracted silence, the touchstone of 21st century reductionism, which also seems to have been presaged by this trio. Equally revealing is that the self-consciously non-jazz – note not anti-jazz – Bailey, Parker and Bennink of the epoch, include a stop-time section in the piece built on Parker’s irregular pitch vibrations and Bailey’s slurred fingering.

Not only is jazz referenced here, but so is rock, with Bailey – of all people – almost obliterating the saxophonist’s clusters of sharp and sour notes and the drummer’s rattles, rumbles and pops with an assembly of distorted notes whose reverb easily links to the amp feedback so favored by ProgRock bands of the time.

The three remaining tracks enlarge on the primary statement, as you hear three musicians gradually forging a unique take on the music. Although his technique was not as developed as it is today, Parker’s triple-tongued fluttering effects begin to ascend towards polytones contested by Bailey’s chiming descending drones. Meanwhile Bennink’s rolls and pumps are often spelled by traditional – in this context – drum rolls and rim shots and the odd shuffle rhythm.

Don’t expect earth-shattering revelation when you hear The Topography of the Lungs. Instead listen to it for its historical music and inventiveness.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Titan Moon 2. For Peter B & Peter K 3. Fixed Elsewhere 4. Dogmeat 5. Found Elsewhere I 6. Found Elsewhere 2

Personnel: Evan Parker (soprano and tenor saxophones); Derek Bailey (guitar); Han Bennink (percussion)

November 27, 2006

VARIOUS ARTISTS

Horn_Bill: Reed Solos
Matchless MRCD63

By Ken Waxman

An extended sonic essay in 21st Century reed techniques, HORN_BILL is an unaltered depiction of unaccompanied solos by five British sax players and a Berlin-based clarinetist. Absorbing in its audacity, this two-CD set captures the players not only eschewing melody, rhythm and harmony for silences and trifling breath dynamics, but in essence negating – with one significant exception – expected reed sounds.

The exception is tenor saxophonist Lou Gare’s “Saxophony”. A Free Music pioneer as a member of AMM up to the 1970s, Gare’s jazz-related variations have a title that perhaps unconsciously reflects some of the spectacular showcases of pioneering American sax popularizer Rudy Wiedoeft (1893-1940). As solipsistic as the others’ solos, his mellow tone is reminiscent of Coleman Hawkins’, with the variations played allegro with a wide, smeary vibrato and what seem to be a compendium of boppish licks. Although Gare exposes some falsetto note clusters, most of the time he lapses into almost pre-modern jazz riffs as if he was one part of a fanciful big band reed section. Most tellingly, just before the finale, he suddenly begins playing variations on “Lover Man”.

If Gare relates to the jazz reed tradition, then tenor saxophonist Nathaniel Catchpole alto saxophonist Seymour Wright – the two youngest players – are firmly post-jazz, with timbres attached to the sonic found in free improv and electronica.

On the nearly 19-minute “Maurice Brinton”, for instance, Catchpole, who with Wright and others was in the band 9!, sticks to laminal abstractions that start tremolo and altissimo and expand to strident discordance. Confining himself to constricted timbres, he stretches every impulse to its threshold, resulting in multiphonic drones that pack every sonic space. Wright, who has also recorded with sampler player Yann Charaoui, takes less time to sew together tongue slaps, flattement and mouth percussion to create cylindrical tones that sounds like hamsters laboring on a treadmill. Protracted silences separate that reed strategy from the second track which involves a series of fowl-like honks centred in the saxophone’s gooseneck that suggest a goose’s cries themselves. These shrieks are followed in quick succession by hissing air that take on metallic components and conclusive tongue percussion that sound as if Wright is spitting into the mouthpiece without the reed.

Clarinetist Kai Fagaschinski, who frequently plays solo or in the company of fellow Teutonic explorers like trumpeter Axel Dörner and sampler player Boris Baltschun is a Continental brother to Catchpole. However he maintains his individuality by concentrating on wide, intense chalumeau vibrations. Especially on the lengthier of his two German-titled tracks, the body tube vibrations take in the complementary node patterns for each sound he makes. After unattached breaths rotate to smears and drones, his intermittent wave-form pulsations resemble both pure electronica and veteran Evan Parker’s circular breathing reed style.

This precisely too is what Parker, the London-based soprano saxophonist does on his 19-minute “Solo for Hugh Davies”. Without appearing to take a breath, Parker commences and concludes fortissimo, thrusting reed bites, glottal punctuation and squeaks through his horn’s bell, as the tone gets progressively more unstable the longer and louder he plays. Able to encompass the ancillary passing tones along with the original notes, there are only minor variations in tone, timbre and pitch throughout, until a concluding expelling of air.

Unlike Parker’s monochromic attack, John Butcher aims for sfumato coloration, polyphonically introducing different forms of attack during his nearly 18¾ minute “291/5” – though determining whether each strategy takes up 291 divided by five measures or 58.2 notes in impossible to determine. Beginning with key and mouth percussion, he concentrates on the speedy cyclical rotation of tongue slaps and stops plus abrasive oscillated breaths. As the node-vibrate picking up buzzy overtones, percussive key slaps provide secondary accompaniment. Soon his fortissimo pitches turns grainy and staccato, alternately inflating and narrowing. After five minutes of that, he turns to legato reed exposition. Eventually the reintroduction of rhythmic tongue slapping is joined by starling-like aviary twitters with a slide whistle fillip. Additional reed kisses surmounted by key and nail percussion finally dissolve into echoing bow tones and flanged, fluttering reverb.

The opposite of “easy listening” HORN_BILL must be approached with caution by the uninitiated. But those who revel in this sort of experimentation will be amply rewarded for perseverance.

Track Listing: CD1:1. Maurice Brinton 2. All Wright! 3. Saxophony CD2: 1. Manchmal glaube ich schon, daß es überhaupt keine Liebe mehr gibt 2. Ich kann im Fortschritt keinen Fortschritt sehen 3. 291/5 4. Solo for Hugh Davies

Personnel: Disc1. 1. Nathaniel Catchpole (tenor saxophone); 2. Seymour Wright (alto saxophone); 3. Lou Gare (tenor saxophone); Disc 2. 1. & 2. Kai Fagaschinski (clarinet); 3. John Butcher (tenor saxophone); 4. Evan Parker (soprano saxophone)

October 2, 2006

Evan Parker Octet

Crossing the River
psi 06.02

Although there’s a numerical equivalence plus the crossover of several musicians, this octet shouldn’t be confused with the ensemble involved in tenor saxophonist Evan Parker’s electro-acoustic performances.

For a start there’s no hint of electronics here, even from violinist Philipp Wachsmann, who commonly uses wave forms as regularly as rosin. Plus while Wachsmann and Catalan pianist Agustí Fernández are on board, there’s no sign of the reedist’s long-time playing partners, bassist Barry Guy and drummer Paul Lytton. There’s no drummer at all in fact, while Wachsmann is part of a string choir of cellist Marcio Mattos, bassist John Edwards and guitarist John Russell – all of whom have played with Parker in other contexts. Most jolting is that the saxophonist is one of three horn players. John Rangecroft’s clarinet and Neil Metcalfe’s flute are the other wind instruments. Over the course of the more-than-77-minute CD, both get more space than Parker himself.

In short, Crossing the River highlights the crossing of yet another frontier for the constantly innovating Parker. Organizing a reciprocal interaction involving trios, duos and a string quintet as well the promised octet, he’s created a pointillistic improv chamber work, almost unique in his catalogue.

Admittedly this aggregation does take some getting used to, since the characteristic Parker slurs and circular breathing rarely appear. In their place are the distinct timbres of Rangecroft and Metcalfe, both of whom were in drummer John Stevens’ Spontaneous Musical Ensemble (SME) and are now part of the London Improvisers’ Orchestra. The flautist, who recently recorded with bassist Nick Stephens, even gets a track to himself and Fernández. Coupling his lyrical trilling with the pianist’s stops and strums on vibrating strings, the intersecting parallel lines create what could be termed a POMO impressionistic recital.

Matched with Russell and Mattos, the clarinetist’s trio outing is more dissonant. Focused on his espousal of the Parker canon, Rangecroft’s irregularly vibrated split tones work their way through the registers with tongue stops, ghost notes and shrill glissandi. Meanwhile the cellist shuffle bows, and the guitarist – whose showcase this is as well – provides the ostinato when he isn’t heartily downstroking or plucking exaggerated runs.

Staccato multiphonics and sweeping tremolo passages throughout the disc characterize the interpretations of Wachsmann, the ensemble’s most consistent soloist. Additionally, his unique techniques fittingly wedge themselves among the other players’ output in the octet tracks. Polyphonic fantasias, combined the octet outings take up more than 40 minutes of the CD.

On the first, strings and horns in broken chords ascend to an early climax. As Fernández accedes from low-frequency piano chords to powerful cross-handed arpeggios, the violinist and cellist harmonize double counterpoint, as flute peeps appear and disappear with regularity. Before the four string players turn to sul tasto and sul ponticello shuffle bowing extended with pressurized drones from prepared piano, Parker burbles and snorts. Spurred by sharp pizzicato asides from Wachsmann, the saxophonist’s lowing tones soon mesh with clarinet trills and flute vibration leading the entire octet to a finale, extended with chording piano and clarinet glissandi.

Shorter, though shaped by buzzing cross tones and contrapuntal impulses, the later octet tracks feature chromatic finger picking from Russell, an overflow of twittering aviary notes from Metcalfe and strident sul ponticello from the bowed instruments. With the associated result ping-ponging from opaque to translucent and back again, unmistakable Parker slurs and quacks occasionally surface then vanish within the polyphony. This swirling and whirling crescendo of vibrating timbres reaches a climax of multi-instrument interaction then leaches away. A 40-second coda of flute and piano places an unnecessary musical cherry on top of the musical cake.

Another wholly unforeseen essay in Free Improv by Parker and company, Crossing the River deserves a careful hearing. But remember it’s a disc of ensemble(s) work, not a Parker showcase.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Octet 1 2. Quintet 3. Trio 1 4. Trio 2 5. Trio 3 6. Duo 7. Octet 2 8. Octet 3

Personnel: John Rangecroft (clarinet); Evan Parker (tenor saxophone); Neil Metcalfe (flute); Philipp Wachsmann (violin); Agustí Fernández (piano); John Russell (guitar); Marcio Mattos (cello); John Edwards (bass)

August 11, 2006

Louis Moholo-Moholo

Bra Louis-Bra Bra-Tebs/Spirits Rejoice
Ogun CD017/018

Sole survivor of the legendary Blue Notes band that left Apartheid-era South Africa in the mid-1960s, drummer Louis Moholo-Moholo finally returned permanently to Cape Town in 2004. But during the three decades that he and his fellow exiled countrymen lived in Europe they added an undiluted tincture of African sensibility to the developing Free Music scene.

This CD assembles two important large group sessions. Spirits Rejoice, released on LP in 1978, is an octet date, which finds the drummer and two other expatriate South Africans – bassist Johnny Dyani, another former Blue Note, and bassist Harry Miller, who left the country on his own – working out with the ne plus ultra of BritImprov including trumpeter Kenny Wheeler, tenor saxophonist Evan Parker and pianist Keith Tippett. Elaborated are five longish pieces that mix Xhosa tribe rhythmic inflections, revivalist hymns and freeform Energy Music.

Recorded in 1995 after Moholo-Moholo finally toured a post-Apartheid South Africa with his own group, the previously unreleased Bra Louis-Bra Bra-Tebs, with its definite beat, leans more towards World music,. The most obvious difference between it and he other CD is the vocals of Martinique’s Francine Luce that are an odd admixture of jazz-pop, roots music and improv vocalese. The cast of instrumentalists is completely different as well. However the main soloists are those who made the South African trek in the drummer’s band: British-raised, Netherlands-based tenor saxophonist Toby Delius; younger Johannesburg-born, London-based pianist Pule Pheto, who has worked with bassist Barry Guy and works as a producer for soul singers; and Caribbean-born alto and soprano saxophonist Jason Yarde, who also played with South African trumpeter Hugh Masekela.

Stretched out over 12 tracks in contrast to Spirits Rejoice’s five, the Freebop pacing and unique South African lilt that ricochets between tribal chants and Methodist hymns usually takes second place to Luce’s vocalizing. What that means is the backing is often locked into a pop-R&B vamp, built on muted passing tones from trumpeter Claude Deppa, slurred fills from Yarde’s soprano, unison piano comping and repetitive beat undulations from bassist Roberto Bellatalla and the drummer.

Throughout, Luce puts on as many vocal guises as a verbal quick change artist. On the traditional “Utshaka”, she comes across as a balladic Abbey Lincoln, backed by muted trumpet and irregular tenor honks. Another traditional piece “Hayi Umntu Endinguye”, finds her wordless vocalization moving from near country and western cadences to become anthem-like stolid. It also features with contrasting dynamics from the piano, as Yarde adds contrapuntal peeps and ends his solo with what sounds like “Taps”.

Written by the bassist, “Maybe Of Cause” takes in both scat and improv jazz as the high-pitched trumpet and contrapuntal horn lines appear to embolden Luce to channel Annie Ross at the beginning and Maggie Nicols at the denouncement. Finally, “Motherless Child”, gets a treatment reminiscent of American Black Nationalist chants of the 1970s. Built on a rock-like vamp and staccato piano fills, Luce dramatizes the words before lapsing into Leon Thomas-like glossolalia.

Elsewhere, while Delius gets some space for abrasive multiphonics and sibilant intonation, and Deppa takes a high-pitched slurry grace note laden solo, overall the instrumental marrow seems secondary to the vocal perimeter. Although the session passes pleasingly with a relentless rhythmic impetus it doesn’t approach Spirits Rejoice.

Freed from a vocalist’s demands, the session appears more rhythmically and polyphonically sophisticated. Additionally the soloists – who admittedly are given more space than on Bra Louis-Bra Bra-Tebs – ratchet the output up a few notches. Especially notable is Parker, who is fully in a freebop mode with flutter-tongue guttural smears, and Tippett, who on “Wedding Hymn” manages to pump out lush, two-handed kinetic notes with the strength of a Herbie Nichols. Driven by cross beats and flams from the drummer, it makes you wonder if this riffing Freebop is really what a nuptial melody is like among the Xhosa.

Alive with contrapuntal call-and-response from the horns, the tunes let the four-piece rhythm section go its own way, keeping things rhythmically exciting with repeated dance-like motifs. “You Ain’t Gonna Know Me ‘Cos You Think You Know Me”, written by trumpeter Mongezi Feza, another former Blue Note, rocks with gospel-like choruses and lilting contrapuntal themes. Not only is there metronomic cross patterning from the pianist, but one of the trombonists – either Nick Evans or Radu Malfatti – lets loose with a sequence of buzzy plunger tones midway between Kid Ory and your local Salvation Army band.

Musical ingenuity also makes “Amaxesha Osizi (Times of Sorrow)” less of a plait than a multi-layered exposition that in its 11 minutes uses alternative dynamics to suggest both a liturgical and a martial work. As the unison horns move the tonal centre with legato harmonies, the alternating horn lines follow a warm, side-slipping solo from Wheeler that adds emotional resonance to the performance.

Although both discs are prime examples of Moholo-Moholo’s art, it would seem that in these cases the acidity of exile produced more profound sounds than the congeniality of homecoming.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Bra: 1. Sonke 2. Lakutshona Ilanga/Ntyilo-Ntyilo 3 Unisone 4. B My Dear 5. Maybe of Cause 6.Utshaka 7 Moegoe 8. Motherless Child 9. Yes Please 10. Hayi Umntu Endinguye 11. Yes Baby, No Baby 12 Ntyilo-Ntyilo

Personnel: Bra: (trumpet); Jason Yarde (alto and soprano saxophones); Toby Delius (tenor saxophone); Pule Pheto (piano); Roberto Bellatalla (bass); Louis Moholo-Moholo (drums); Francine Luce (voice)

Track Listing: Spirits: 1. Khany Apho Ukhona (Shine Wherever You Are 2. You Ain’t Gonna Know Me ‘Cos You Think You Know Me 3. Ithi Gqi (Appear) 4. Wedding Hymn 5. Amaxesha Osizi (Times of Sorrow)

Personnel: Spirits: Kenny Wheeler (trumpet); Nick Evans and Radu Malfatti (trombones); Evan Parker (tenor saxophone); Keith Tippett (piano); Johnny Dyani and Harry Miller (bass); Louis Moholo-Moholo (drums)

August 4, 2006

The Sound of Squirrel Meals: The Work of Lol Coxhill

Edited By Barbara Schwarz
Black Press

By Ken Waxman
April 17, 2006

Perhaps the sort of player who only could have thrived in the ever-shifting scene that developed in the United Kingdom starting in the mid-960s, soprano saxophonist Lol Coxhill is one of improvised music’s most distinctive characters.

In truth, the bulky, bald-headed Portsmouth-born saxophonist has always been a fellow traveller to Improvised Music, but never quite a card-carrying member. That’s because his quirkiness – and need to make a living – has encompassed a multiplicity of gigs, most of which he’s accepted with the same equanimity of spirit. In other words he’s been just as satisfied playing a featured role with punk band the Damned and other rockers as improvising with fellow reed masters like Steve Lacy and Evan Parker. He has been part of oddball vocal-and-instrumental groups like The Melody Four as well as more serious endeavors like the London Improvisers Orchestra. He has appeared as a TV and film actor. Plus he’s spent days busking outdoors almost as often as he’s been featured in proper concert settings.

As unconventional as the man himself, this scrapbook-sized volume, edited by Barbara Schwarz and available at schwarz.blackpress@gmail.com, has about as much in common with the standard jazz biography as jumble sale clothed Coxhill does with John Lewis, the impeccably groomed pianist of the Modern Jazz Quartet. Organized in several sections, The Sound of Squirrel Meals, is made up of a short biography; reprinted interviews with the saxophonist from the 1970s to the 2002, a chronology of his recordings as leader, band members and sideman on CDs, CDRs, LPs, 10-inch LPs, EPs, cassette, 45s and 78s – including reissues and bonus tracks; a similar chronology of his film, TV and video appearances; a bibliography; and an alphabetical discography of every Coxhill session then extant, complete with song titles, recording dates and personnel. No explanation of the book title is offered.

To keep this from appearing too much like an academic treatise or a fan’s obsession, Schwarz has broken up the text with a variety of illustrations, including album covers, drawings – of and by Coxhill – and photos. These range from Coxhill carrying a Union Jack as a teenaged Boy Scout, marching in white face as part of the communal political consortium, the Welfare State in the 1970s, plus performance shots of the saxophonist in bands such as The Recedents with similarly bald-domed percussionist Roger Turner and guitarist Mike Cooper and on his own. Original commentary by Coxhill is appended to the descriptions of most of his recorded projects.

Born in 1932, Coxhill was initially attracted to Bop and R&B, while developing his own style of improvisation. Unlike his slightly older compatriot, guitarist Derek Bailey, who made quite a good living as a commercial guitarist before tuning to improv, Coxhill was trained as a bookbinder. Although he was playing semi-professionally by the 1950s and was once characterized by New Musical Express as “the Thelonious Rollins [sic] of British Jazz” he was the epitome of the jobbing musician, only quitting his factory job in 1965. In dark glasses, black turtleneck and loud check plaid jacket, the already bald, then tenor saxophone-playing Coxhill backed visiting American soul singers, and was part of the local blues/R&B scene in bands led by guitarist Alexis Korner.

Already playing solo intermission gigs at jazz clubs, by the 1970s he developed simultaneous careers as an actor – eventually he would have featured roles in films by directors Derek Jarman and Sally Potter; as a member of audacious big bands like Centipede and the Brotherhood of Breath; as a free improviser as part of Bailey’s Company weeks and with drummer John Stevens’ Spontaneous Music Ensemble; and as a sideman in progressive rock bands, including those led by bassist Hugh Hopper, singer Robert Wyatt and singer/guitarist Kevin Ayers.

His two-year, on-and-off association with Ayers’ Whole World band came about after the rocker saw and heard Coxhill busking near a London bridge. Although in 1972, the saxophonist referred to busking as “open-air concerts for anyone who wants to listen”, insisting he never busked to live, only for extra money, it’s hard to imagine unbending performers such as Bailey putting up with playing outdoors for 10 hours at a stretch, and sporadically having his instrument damaged and being physically attacked by unhappy, music-hating passers-by.

Coxhill’s sense of humor probably served him in good stead here, as did his theatricality, also expressed in agitprop aggregations like the Welfare State. But those two qualities became paramount in his long-standing gigs with semi-satirical combos such as the Johnny Rondo Trio and especially the Melody Four. Consisting of the saxman plus other British jokesters like pianist Steve Beresford, the songs covered by the Four ranged from Groucho Marx’s “Lydia the Tattooed Lady” and Doris Day’s “Secret Love” to “the Latin classic Besame Mucho”. The band also showcased Coxhill’s semi-pro vocals as well as and recorded originals ditties such as the reedist's own “Surfing Sausage” – “Silly little surfing sausage/What a funny saus is she/Cares not that it’s impossible to surf/When it’s time for tea …”. The group went a long way in setting him apart from most dead-serious Free Music players, who are as divorced from humor as they are from bar lines.

Considering that despite this, Coxhill continued to play with top echelon Free Musicians from the U.K., Europe and North America – along with improvisers and the odd rock band – confirms his talent and individuality, as well as the respect in which he’s held by other musicians. Today, at nearly 74 he’s an undeniable presence on the scene.

Lacking analysis and insights – except from Coxhill himself – the book is only tangentially related to jazz scholarship. Not that there’s any pretense of that, of course. The Sound of Squirrel Meals is a light read to be dipped into and out of, perhaps while listening to your Coxhill CDs.

Still if you have an interest in the saxophonist, BritImprov or the unclassifiable music that has flourished in some circles in the United Kingdom during the past 40 years, you’ll probably enjoy the details in this volume.

April 17, 2006

NICK STEPHENS SEPTET

Live at the Plough Stockwell
Loose Torque LT007

FAST COLOUR
Antwerp 1988
Loose Torque LT001

Two vibrant snapshots of London Jazz in the late 1980s, early 1990s, these discs show that just before the Limey version of Young Lions appeared, musicians of many different schools had developed a rapport with one another.

By this time jazz-rockers, Free Musicians and boppers had been coexisting for a good many years, while the Brits had the added advantage of having internalized the Kwela and Township Jive rhythms expatriate South Africans players brought with them to the British jazz scene, after they fled Apartheid.

Probably the best-known of these expatriates was saxophonist Dudu Pukwana (1938-1990), featured on ANTWERP 1988 and celebrated with “Do Do That Dudu That You Do” on LIVE AT THE PLOUGH STOCKWELL. When the bands on both sessions adapt African-influenced patterns, they’re not doing it for novelty. Trumpeters John Corbett and Harry Beckett, trombonist Annie Whitehead and saxophonist Evan Parker had been part of South African pianist Chris McGregor’s Brotherhood of Breath with Pukwana, while bassist Nick Stephens and drummer John Stevens had long-time working relationships with the altoist.

Ironically with such heavy hitters as Parker, Pukwana and Stevens (1940-1994) on board, the Antwerp CD appears to be a unique all-star date, with the two CD-set merely the approximation of a typical two-set Saturday night pub gig. Not exactly... The tightness of the septet, which played at Stockwell’s The Plough every Saturday night, make this session the equal of the other, since Fast Colour rarely worked with Parker and Pinise Saul, who was also vocalist in Pukwana’s Zila band.

While Whitehead, Corbett, who also played in the London Jazz Composers' Orchestra, and saxophonist Chris Biscoe, a long-time associate of pianist Mike Westbrook, are proven qualities, and drummer Mark Sanders, featured on two tracks, would go on to record with the likes of Parker, one of the outstanding soloists is the little-known Jerry Underwood.

Underwood, who died in 2002 at 45, worked with avant-folkies like John Martyn, and in Jacqui McShee’s Pentangle as well as doing improv gigs. His solos throughout are impressive, especially on “One for Ron/Cunning Mingus”, dedicated to Ron Herman, who played alongside Stephens and Stevens in the Spontaneous Music Ensemble and (obviously) bassist Charles Mingus. Revealed is an unapologetic, feet-planted-on-the-floor hard blower in Underwood, who spins guttural sounds, phrases and lines to their logical conclusion without showboating. He’s sort of the Brit equivalent of the late John Stubblefield, another powerful, but underappreciated tenorist, who worked with Mingus and the Mingus Big Band.

While Saul’s throat-twisting glossolalia, anti-Apartheid chanting, whistling and screams are a vital part of the performance, the preponderance of vocals frequently makes it seem as the band is backing the vocalist, rather than the singer being one part of the ensemble.

Luckily there’s enough instrumental prowess on display to more-or-less make up for that. Whitehead confirms her skills with a few muted, flutter-tongued excursions that manage to be both tailgate colorful and bebop slick. With no sign of his Free Music persona in evidence, Parker is content to play second fiddle … er, saxophone … to Pukwana. When he does solo, Parker’s jagged timbres are firmly in the Free Jazz realm. Meanwhile, Stephens keeps up a steady beat, faithful to Township Jive as well as Jazz conventions.

As for Stevens, his loose-wristed, foot-pumping outings, especially on “John Dyani’s Gone”, are undertaken with locomotive style power, revealing the inner Buddy Rich that seems to have hidden inside the innovative Free Jazzer. Beckett’s double-tongued, soaring obbligato to the drum work is particularly apt, as he matches the percussionist phrase for phrase, smear for smear, no matter the tempo.

One was never exactly sure how much of Pukwana’s mature style came with him from South Africa and how much grew organically from the confluence with advanced Free Jazz stylists in the United Kingdom. Here his percussiveness in false registers is on display as well as intense, raspy irregular vibrations that at points mirror Eric Dolphy’s advances.

Recorded more than a year later, on the evidence of his compositions for his own septet, Stephens also appears to have internalized the adapted South African cross rhythms to his own end for LIVE AT THE PLOUGH STOCKWELL. While several of the tunes have punning pseudo-African titles such as “No Me Degas Nada”, the strength of the performance comes from this Anglo-African admixture, with band voicing and sudden tempo changes.

Besides the brassy enthusiasm of individual horn soloists, some of most pointed bonding material comes from British-based Peruvian guitarist Mano Ventura. Mixing stinging jazz runs with Latin-styled rhythms, his string expansions complement the soloists or the rhythm section, depending on the circumstances. The only distraction – almost understandable in a 1990 context – comes from his over-reliance on too bright George Benson-like octave runs.

Throughout the eight tracks the septet delivers the type of closely arranged bravura performance that’s polyphonically sophisticated yet rhythmically open. Who knows, with a few of the tunes replete with insistent stay-in-your-memory hooks, the audience at the Plough may have been moved enough to execute the odd dance step to the foot-tapping rhythm. Linking the performance to horn-resplendent Yank funksters like Kool and the Gang or Earth, Wind and Fire, the crowd may not have realized that some of the United Kingdom’s most accomplished jazzers were letting their hair down – if they had any – with this gig. Consciously or not, through the musicians’ unshowy use of extended techniques, the two-CD set also points out the links between improv and so-called more popular forms such as funk and kwela.

Anyone interested in a peek behind the scenes at what went on during a top-quality British jazz pub gig in the late 1980s/early 1990s would be wise to seek out LIVE AT THE PLOUGH STOCKWELL. Understanding that the emphasis on ANTWERP 1988 is directed towards a variant of South African jazz, not cerebral BritImprov for which Parker and Stevens are best known could draw you to that disc as well.

-- Ken Waxman

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Track Listing: Fast: 1. Now Time 2. Way It Goes 3. John Dyani’s Gone 4 Don’t Throw It Away 5. Mbizo 6. Way It Goes/Now Time

Personnel: Fast: Harry Beckett (trumpet); Annie Whitehead (trombone and voice); Dudu Pukwana (alto and soprano saxophones); Evan Parker (tenor saxophone); Nick Stephens (bass); John Stevens (drums); Pinise Saul (voice)

Track Listing: Plough: CD1: 1. Just One Ornetto 2. Do Do That Dudu That You Do 3. Fayzed 4. No Me Degas Nada CD2: 1. West 11# 2. One for Ron/Segue 3. Cunning Mingus# 4. In Off*

Personnel: Plough: John Corbett (trumpet); Annie Whitehead or Alf Waite# (trombone);

Chris Biscoe or Paul Mason* (alto saxophone); Jerry Underwood (tenor saxophone); Manno Ventura (guitar); Nick Stephens (bass); Brian Davison or Mark Sanders* (drums)

December 5, 2005

DEREK BAILEY/EVAN PARKER

The London Concert
psi 05.01

STEVENS/WATTS/GUY
Mining the seam - the rest of the Spotlite sessions
Hi 4 Head Records HFH CD003

Combining and splitting apart numerous times in various bands – ad hoc and not –during a period in the late 1960s and early 1970s now seen as the genesis of British Free Music, guitarist Derek Bailey and drummer John Stevens (1940–1994) are almost universally acknowledged as dual catalysts who nurtured the nascent scene.

Although over the years both improvised with just about anyone and mentored a large number of younger musicians, Stevens had, and Bailey still has, a fairly prickly personality. That meant that at the same time newer players were being initiated into freer sounds, one or both was usually carrying on a feud with older associates and sometimes with one other. Bailey has maintained from that time that every performance should be completely improvised with each creation a tabla rasa. Less rigid, Stevens didn’t disdain composition and wasn’t above playing jazz, Free Jazz and a touch of jazz-rock.

MINING THE SEAM and THE LONDON CONCERT, both recorded in the mid-1970s, are historical documents, which preserve mature manifestations of Bailey’s and Stevens’ sounds that continue to shape British improv. Each distinctively reflects the protagonist, yet the scene was then so small that the other musicians featured negotiated a path between the two.

Initially, the Spontaneous Music Ensemble (SME), Stevens’ original cooperative band, featured his army buddy, alto saxophonist Trevor Watts, and the reedman is on this CD. Bailey briefly joined the SME, but soprano and tenor saxophonist Evan Parker, who partners the guitarist on THE LONDON CONCERT, evolved his distinctive reed style though a more extended tenure with the SME, sometimes alongside Watts. Bassist Barry Guy who provides much of the rhythmic impetus on MINING THE SEAM, was associated with Bailey in the Iskra 1903 trio with trombonist Paul Rutherford. Yet more notably for the past 30 years, he and Parker have worked together in situations ranging from a duo to big bands.

Considering the trio assembled, it may be surprising to note that MINING THE SEAM is out-and-out, circa 1977 Free Jazz. Made up of alternate and unedited versions of three of the five tunes session issued as NO FEAR (Hi 4 Head Records HFHCD001), it offers another look at what long been viewed as a masterful BritJazz session. Most surprising is the soloing of Watts. At that point, before he began his ongoing flirtation with so-called world music, Watts was firmly in the Ornette Coleman school, with his jagged phrasing and interjections harsh and relentless.

Not only does he trot out pet licks that seem to enliven each track, but all three players are also committed to the song form, with nearly every tune ending with a recapitulation of the head after variations have been sounded. Matching the saxophonist’s squeaks and staccato flutter-tongued excursions, Stevens rattles each part of his kit with ruffs and flams and pays more attention to the bass drum than is the wont in BritImprov.

Ruffling passing tones, Guy too is removed from the cerebral interface he often exhibits with Parker. At different points, his shuffle bowing highlights the jagged edges of the strings, the better to sabotage the drummer’s steady beat. Alternately contrapuntal, his chiming bass lines are the perfect antidote to the speedier and staccato dog-like barks from the saxophonist. Walking, thumping or stopping, he moderates a space between the other two.

As the multiphonic reed tones, bull fiddle sweeps and percussion rebounds and strokes coalesce, taken together the five tracks provide a substitute, but equally valid version of the already released proceedings.

Equally valid too are the 30-odd minutes added to the previously released

LP version of 1975’s THE LONDON CONCERT (Incus 16), which now boosts its length to more than 69 minutes. Still in their honeymoon period, Bailey and Parker offered both solo and duo material, with the reedman playing soprano and tenor saxophones and Bailey a stereo guitar with volume pedals and a modified 19-string guitar.

Despite the hardware, there are no signs of ProgRock, electronica or – as Bailey would probably insist dogmatically – jazz. That’s open to debate, but what is noticeable in this context is how each of the eight tracks seems to be moderate and unhurried compared to the urgent staccato of the Stevens’ trio work.

There’s no mistaking Bailey, plinking, slightly flattish tone and attack, whether he’s using the so-called stereo guitar or the 19-string mutant. “Part 1”, for example, is almost 15 minutes of constant plectrum plink and plucks intersected by masticated curt note patterns and duck squawks from Parker’s soprano.

As the piece develops so do the saxophonist’s jagged snaps, slurs and smears while the guitarist’s steady rhythmic guitar fills include additional vibrations. With the pedals allowing him to output an unusual vibrating pulsation, Bailey’s contrapuntal display is matched by trills within the body tube, shrill penny whistle tones and undulating columns of colored air from Parker’s axe. Seemingly mumbling to himself and evidentially concentrating on what rhythm can be constructed by stroking strings on the guitar neck, the guitarist leaves space for Parker to buzz his reed and bubble lip forms. For the finale the reedist contorts his snarls to a legato tone, then showcases his characteristic circular breathing as Bailey plucks away.

Previously unreleased, Bailey’s strategy on “Second Half Solos” find him demarcating sharp, single-note friction on the 19 strings as the crinkling vibrations add rattling hum and tone resonation. For his part, Parker reveals a nephritic shout as repeated tongue slaps, pops and diaphragm vibrations expand to multiphonics and usher in “Part 3” from the original LP.

Spectacularly, shredded split tones and irregularly pitched vibrations then explode all over the aural space, causing Bailey to turn to harder plectrum interface, as node response swells into unique counter patterns. Soon you start to feel like a spectator at a particularly frenetic tennis game, with the ball constantly in motion, jumping, soaring and bouncing from one to another. Each man is concentrating on an individual strategy, but as polyphony emerges, so does the shape of the cooperative contest. Climatically, Bailey announces a variation change as his flat-picking suddenly clangs like an egg timer. Parker vibrates ghostly slurs beneath him, as if he was playing a chanter, with a renal squeak for a coda. Elsewhere the two intertwine harmonies that include glottal punctuation and staccatissimo overblowing from Parker and distorted finger-tapping and harsh, scraped fret actions from Bailey.

Although 30 years later what they did then may sound standardized, the duo performance is invested with the novelty and excitement of musical discovery. So too is the trio set. Both prime slabs of interactive improv, these CDs should attract anyone desirous of a deeper insight into the musical currents of those times.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: London: 1. First half solo 2. Part 1 3. Part 1A 4. Part 2 5. Part 2A 6. Second half solos 7. Part 3 8. Part 4

Personnel: London: Evan Parker (soprano and tenor saxophones) and Derek Bailey (stereo guitar and modified 19-string guitar)

Track Listing: Mining 1. No Fear (alternate take) 2. Ah! (unedited version) 3. Ah! (alternate take) 4. Speed from the light (alternate take) 5. Speed from the light (alternate take)

Personnel: Mining: Trevor Watts (alto saxophone); Barry Guy (bass) and John Stevens (drums)

October 31, 2005

SCHLIPPENBACH TRIO

Compression: Live at Total Music Meeting 2002
a|l|l 011

EVAN PARKER/MARK SANDERS/JOHN COXON/ASHLEY WALES
Trio with Interludes
Treader trd002

Free Music’s paramount concern is in constantly making it new. Incongruously, though, this freshness as often results from the faith improvisers have in the abilities of longtime collaborators as from musicians experimenting with new players and novel instruments.

COMPRRESSION and TRIO WITH INTERLUDES aptly demonstrate these opposing stratagems in discs featuring veteran BritImproviser Evan Parker. The first is yet another masterful performance by Parker on soprano and tenor saxophones and the two German musicians who have made up this trio since the early1970s: pianist Alexander von Schlippenbach and Paul Lovens on selected drums and cymbals.

The other matches Parker and British percussionist Mark Sanders, with whom he has recorded in other circumstances, with John Coxon on Roland MKS 80, grand piano, harpsichord, National Trojan guitar and riveted tambour. Coxon and Ashley Wales make up the electronic remix duo Spring Heel Jack, which has put together some cut’n’paste sessions for Parker and other British and American improvisers in the past. Yet this sound investigation has Coxon and his somewhat idiosyncratic instruments joined with the other two to make up an improvising trio on seven tracks. Six intermingled interludes sound as if Coxon plus Wales on piano, bass drum, riveted tambour and flannel (sic) are performing their version of studio improv without imput from the other two.

Despite the 12 notated cues, COMPRRESSION is one continuous performance from the 2002’s Total Music Meeting in Berlin and shows what can be accomplished when the improvisers involved know each other’s every move. Parker, von Schlippenbach and Lovens collectively do what they do best, and like, say, a Modern Jazz Quartet performance – although a lot less formal – you simply add another chapter to the volume that has been their collective legacy since the 1970s.

Passing what in conventional music would be the lead role between the saxophonist and the pianist, Parker on tenor saxophone slashes through the polyphonic barrier with snarky hard blowing and split tones, molding themes and variations as he sees fit. Double-tonguing, it often seems as if two separate reed lines are being developed and harmonized, a technique he carries over to the soprano, though the smaller horn also encourages breathtaking circular breathing, shading every note as the swerving long-lined smears and arpeggios permeate von Schlippenbach’s and Lovens' vibrant contributions.

More melodic than he has been in the past, the pianist varies his touch from feather-light to anvil-hard at different points. Sometimes he comes up with recital-fashion low-frequency chording, other times his contrasting dynamics are such that he appears to be finding the sort of hyperkinetic contrasting dynamics that characterized many early Free Jazz keyboardists.

Improvising in broken octaves and polyharmonically hasn’t altered von Schlippenbach’s links to the tradition, however. If his cadences seem to arise from a prepared piano at points, his note clusters also take on the pulses of raggy Stride other places – his admitted influence Thelonious Monk was a Stride man himself. Logical internal swing is always present, and there’s a point right near the top where for a brief moment it sounds as if he’s quoting from “Just a Gigolo”, coincidentally a tune Monk recorded as a solo feature.

Content to bell-ring and cymbal-resonate for propulsion, most of the drummer’s accompaniment centres on timed clatters and thumps. There’s also a point where it appears that Parker’s narrowness of tone has thinned to such an extent that it’s been reduced to pennywhistle-like shrills. But considering Lovens’ singing saw can produce similar timbres, very likely the carpenter’s tool made an unexpected stage appearance. As that pitch enters the sound field the result is sort of reductionist polyharmony. Whether voiced that way or with frantic polyphony, the end result impresses both the audience and the listener.

Equally impressive is the work on TRIO WITH INTERLUDES, though, to be honest, most of the interludes that clock in around the one minute mark could have been excised. With one exception, they’re reminiscent of commercial breaks on television dramas, interludes which display Coxon’s and Wales’ prowess with legato grand piano chording, sluiced electronic intervals or scraped steel guitar whines, but which are vestigial to many tunes’ plot lines.

Far more germane is how Parker’s protracted circular breathing and harsh vocalized slurs, a well as Sanders’ wriggling cymbal licks and drum rolls are combined with live and processed oscillations for novel and imaginative textures. At points the cross-modulation and filter resonance causes Coxon’s analogue synthesizer to produce irregular, mosquito-buzzing timbres on its own. More commonly, sluicing or slurred reed tones match up with resonating plucks from the electrified harpsichord or float upon clouds of organ-setting resonances.

Another strategy is when low-frequency, mechanized wave forms are replaced by squirming calliope-patterning from the keys – the better to mix with light snaps and back-of-brush taps from the drummer and in counterpoint with lips smacks and cheeky thwacks from the reedist. Some of the foghorn slurs heard may be Parker in the flesh, yet others are electronic interface, reflecting back his already-created saxophone lines into the mix.

While glottal punctuation, irregular body tube vibrations and tongue slaps can alternately collide with or maneuver through cymbal clacking and irregular ruffs from Sanders as well as the careening caffeinated runs from and fluttering waves of Game boy-like clamor from Coxon, congruence puts the tones to better use.

On one, more-than-8½-minute track, the contrapuntal qualities are brought into highest relief. Sideboard distortions are patched with keyboard arpeggios so that the resulting warm bubbling tones meet head on with rappelling overblowing that produces skittering growls. When the drummer’s off-handed cymbal thwacks are added, the layering adds up to perfect cohesion regardless of its electronic or acoustic qualities.

Previously Parker’s electro-acoustic adventures have taken place in larger group contexts, but the seven trio improvisations here prove he can work in diminutive fashion as well. Furthermore, the dozen tracks of COMPRRESSION demonstrate that his acoustic interface hasn’t suffered either.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing Compression: 1. Yes Bishop... yes, yes! 2. Variations on G 3. All the Things You Are (Paraphrase dvs/pi) 4. Tantrum 5. Ayre 6. Bang In... 7. Bird of the Year 8. Compression 9. Glow 10. Singles 11. Insistence 12. It had to be

Personnel Compression: Evan Parker (soprano and tenor saxophone); Alexander von Schlippenbach (piano); Paul Lovens (selected drums and cymbals)

Recorded live at Total Music Meeting 2002

Track Listing: Interludes: 1. 4.14 2. 1.03 3. 7.42 4. 1.13 5. 8.33 6. 1.30 7. 7.02 8. .41 9. 7.53 10. 04.50 11. 2.48 12. 1.10 13. 3.22

Personnel: Interludes: Evan Parker (tenor saxophone); John Coxon (Roland MKS 80, grand piano, harpsichord, National Trojan guitar, riveted tambour); Ashley Wales (piano, bass drum, riveted tambour, flannel) and Mark Sanders (drums and percussion)

and percussion)

September 26, 2005

LONDON IMPROVISERS ORCHESTRA

Responses, Reproduction & Reality
EMANEM 4110

Outgrowth of a Butch Morris-led conduction that took place in London a few years ago, the London Improvisers Orchestra (LIO) has evolved into a once-a-month gig where some of the British capital’s best improvisers get together to try out new ideas.

Involving a revolving cast of 30-plus players as well as different conductors and composers, the LIO has taken on an identity far beyond that of a BritImprov kicks band. However as these seven tracks, recorded at 2003’s and 2004’s Freedom of the City festivals demonstrate, the outcome is still inconsistent.

Corralling three dozen top players into a somewhat regimented atmosphere to play exacting compositions as well as improvisations can be a struggle – ask pioneers like Alexander von Schlippenbach or Carla Bley who did so in the past. So while six conducted-compositions and a free improvisation are featured here, in truth the pieces that are most notable are those which revolve around a strong soloist or soloists rather than rigid, non-developmental leitmotifs. This concept may be anathema to the collectivist impulse that has traditionally characterized BritImprov, but larger groups call for different strategies.

“Ism”, for example, conducted by electronic manipulator Pat Thomas, could almost be Free Jazz. Here the creative shape revolves around tenor saxophonist John Butcher’s winnowing slurs and smears plus trombonist Alan Tomlinson’s pedal-point plunger blasts and snorts, rather than the agitato overtones from the massed instruments around them. Including hyper-kinetic piano cadences at the finale, polyphonic string crescendos as well as triple counterpoint from the drums, the orchestra’s most important function is as a framing device.

“Wit’s End,” conducted by Dave Tucker – which in many ways begins as a concerto for Paul Rutherford’s trombone – develops in a similar fashion. Moving among harsh vamps from the horns and percussion, the trombonist shuffles and smears his timbres, later vocalizing to match the oscillations from B. J. Cole’s pedal steel guitar. Other influences surface as the almost-12½-minute composition develops, most noticeably the avant spin Orphy Robinson gives the traditional steel pan and the wave forms bouncing from interference to accompaniment from Adam Bohman’s so-called amplified objects. More conventionally, the LIO here includes legato orchestral string parts that only touch on dissonance and some call-and-response riffs from soprano saxophonist Tom Chant and trumpeter Roland Ramanan.

By replicating writ large the gullet gymnastics of guest vocalist Jaap Blonk, from the Netherlands, “Hearing Reproduction 5 – conducted by Caroline Kraabel – impresses as well. Spiccato string stops, hocketing irregular horn lines, aviary squeaks from the flutes and blacksmith-like thumps from the percussionists match if not mirror the retching, growling, barking and throat gurgles that characterize Blonk’s sound.

Elsewhere, compositions designed to showcase the smallest fraction of a musical idea in one case or elongate a non-linear, so-called script of timbres rather than thematic development really only come alive when the strictures are ignored. Developing almost rococo detailing of various orchestral tones after the swaying, slapping and scraping of plunger trombone and shivering electronics helps one. Pizzicato violin strums, low-frequency tremolo patterns from both pianists and a crescendo of pitch-sliding semitones from the brass liven things up for the other. But until a fade, most LIOers appear to be patterning rather than playing.

These and other tunes capture some fine playing, but singularly, rather than as part of a larger grouping. Hunting horn–like harmonies from the trombones, reverb from two guitarists and portamento chording from dual pianos were no doubt exciting to play and convincingly exciting for the live audience. But minus visuals some of the sounds come across as a cross between polytonal advancement from dedicated free players and a parody of a symphony orchestra at rehearsal.

A valuable listen for those curious about how analytical musicians labor to solve the conundrum of multi-person improvisation RESPONSES, REPRODUCTION & REALITY offers practical evidence of what does and doesn’t work.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Wit’s End 2. Improvisation Panels (1) 3. Hearing Reproduction 5* 4. Proceeding 6 5. Responses 6. Ism 7. Fantasy and Reality

Personnel: [tracks 1 & 7]: Harry Becket and Roland Ramanan (trumpets);

Robert Jarvis and Paul Rutherford (trombones); Neil Metcalfe (flute); Catherine Pluygers (oboe); Terry Day (bamboo pipes); John Rangecroft (clarinet); Jacques Foschia and Harrison Smith (bass clarinets); Tom Chant, Lol Coxhill and Adrian Northover (soprano saxophones); Caroline Kraabel (alto saxophone); Evan Parker (tenor saxophone); Susanna Ferrar, Sylvia Hallett and Phil Wachsmann (violins); Charlotte Hug (viola); Marcio Mattos (cello); B. J. Cole (pedal steel guitar); Dave Tucker (guitar); David Leahy, John Edwards and Simon H. Fell (basses); Tony Marsh and Louis Moholo-Moholo (drums); Orphy Robinson (steel pan); Adam Bohman (amplified objects) [tracks 2 - 6]: Harry Becket, Ian Smith and Roland Ramanan (trumpets); Robert Jarvis and Alan Tomlinson (trombones); John Rangecroft (clarinet); Jacques Foschia and Harrison Smith (bass clarinets); Tom Chant, Lol Coxhill and Adrian Northover (soprano saxophones); Caroline Kraabel (alto saxophone); John Butcher (tenor saxophone); Susanna Ferrar, Sylvia Hallett and Phil Wachsmann (violins); Charlotte Hug (viola); Marcio Mattos (cello); Dave Tucker and Keith Rowe (guitars); Steve Beresford and Veryan Weston (pianos); David Leahy, John Edwards and Simon H. Fell (basses); Tony Marsh, Mark Sanders and Louis Moholo-Moholo (drums); Pat Thomas (electronics); Jaap Blonk (voice)*

September 26, 2005

Evan Parker

With Birds
Treader

Bo van de Graaf
Ticket
Icdisc

By Ken Waxman
June 27, 2005

Since the earliest part of the 20th century, more than at any other time, divisions have existed between musicians who take their inspiration from nature and those who ally themselves with urbanism.

Obviously many players and composers fall between the two camps, but the nature camp includes at very least New Age composers and most folk singers. Industrial rock and musical futurism take the other tack. Sometimes this divide extends to improvised music as well. But that genre’s triumph is that an admixture of these elements with the input of an inventive improviser produces unexpected results.

Ticket and With Birds are particularly remarkable because each features a solo saxophonist interacting with a soundscape that reflect either an urban or a natural setting. British saxophonist Evan Parker, whose technique has rated more aviary comparisons than any reed man since Eric Dolphy, is in good company on the later. With Birds is a CD featuring Parker literally improvising along with field recordings of winged creatures and other soundscapes from Liskeard, Cornwall and St Marys, Isle of Scilly. Tenor saxophonist Bo van de Graaf of the Netherlands, on the other hand, finds his Ticket by recording inside the New York subway system, matching his sax timbres to the unembellished sounds of intercom announcements, crowd noises, platform conversation and the odd local tunnel musicians. Barely 25 minutes long, at points the concept is more intriguing than its execution.

Commencing as if he was playing on the soundtrack to a film noir from the 1940s, van de Graaf’s breathy cadences make you conscious of the found poetry implicit in vocalized directions to Brighton Beach, Sixth Avenue and Brooklyn, and the sometimes irritating voices of New Yorkers. By the time the shifting rhythmic movement of the trains and what seems to be to be sequenced, electronic loops and synthesized, organ-like runs are audible, his tone has coarsened. Among the additional tones produced by Teresa Zoutentendijk’s violin and a captured loop of a female voice explaining the advantage of a Metro Card, the saxman goes into full Gato Barbieri mode, blurting reed emotionalism on top of the sounds of mass transit.

Ticket gets its shape when “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” is heard played instrumentally by a subway platform band, with its lyrics subsequently sung-whispered in a tone bordering on melodrama by Simin Tander. These renditions are then commented on and animated by van de Graaf’s over-the-top response. Adapting a montuno beat and with his reed squeaks and honks resembling Barbieri’s output of the 1960s, his saxophone expression perfectly matches the churning transportation rhythms.

Although it gives van de Graaf a chance to replicate Sonny Rollins’ influential style of the early1960s, a chance encounter caught by the Dutch saxophonist’s recording equipment between that famous American saxophonist and some autograph-seeking fans dissipates the mood on the final track. With much of the interaction swallowed by train noises, you can hypothesize that the Dutch reedist’s sax line is a homage to the older saxophonist, parallel but not as intrusive as a fan encounter. We do get to hear Rollins’ female friend remind the besotted fan boys that Rollins is tired. They exit and the piece’s – and the CD’s — coda is the whoosh of the train exiting the station.

Dedicated to the late soprano sax master Steve Lacy, the slinky, pure-toned emphasis of Parker’s soprano and the circular breathing of his tenor are cushioned and underscored by the whistling, roiling and systematic peeping of the bird songs throughout With Birds’ four-track, nearly 40-minute duration. Gentle coos and jagged caws appear to amplify the saxophonist’s single-mindedness, except, of course, on the odd occasion when a higher-pitched, pre-recorded sax line is added to his output.

The fowls’ soothing coos and resonating whistles bring out tongue slaps and the occasional twitter from the reedist, with these unselfconscious but muted tones multiplying so the man and birds become almost duet partners.

Climax is reached with the final two tracks. The penultimate mingles seagull chirrups, involuntary percussion – perhaps from a semi-submerged oil drum – and the suggestion of rough, diffusing electronic signals. As for Parker, he travels from tongue stops to finger-flicking reed percussion to blowing colored air through his horn as the aviary cooing and wheezing intensifies.

Finale is a greater-than-15-minute collection of reverberating clucks, barks and peeps from the birds as the saxophonist’s unperturbed straight lines initiate double counterpoint. Sibilant, he masticates his reed among the ever-shifting fowl oscillations as the faint tone of a church bell is heard. Following an electronic buzz and a nutcracker-like snap – likely from the machines of John Coxon and Ashley Wales who mixed the soundscapes – Parker begins circular breathing. As the successive tone collection intensifies so do the echoing bird whistles and coos, to the extent that some of the cawing almost sounds like parody. Uncontaminated by bird accompaniment the reed summation is conclusively soothing.

Another uncommon Parker session, it’s one that will be welcomed both by the converted and others with open minds and ears.

June 27, 2005

Surd

Live at Glenn Miller Café
Ayler Records

Sandell/Stackenäs/Parker/Guy/Lytton
Gubbröra
psi By Ken Waxman
May 2, 2005

Swedish guitarist David Stackenäs has been someone to watch every since he released his remarkable solo session, The Guitar, on Häpna five years ago. Since that time he’s extended his early promise, playing with a variety of improvisers ranging from Swedish saxophonist Mats Gustafsson to American multi-reedist Ken Vandermark.

Recorded one month apart last summer in Stockholm and London, the most recent CDs on which he’s featured, suggest that he may be at a crossroads. Live at Glenn Miller Café, featuring local band Surd – Fredrik Nordström on alto and tenor saxophones, bassist Filip Augustsonon and drummer Thomas Strønen as well as the guitarist – in a speedy freebop romp that at points veers awfully close to fusion-like excess. Far superior is the more than 71½-minute Gubbröra, which matches Stackenäs with four veteran improvisers. Duos with fellow Swede Sten Sandell on piano, voice and electronics, make up the first two tracks; the third adds Sandell and Stackenäs to the transcendent British trio of Evan Parker on soprano and tenor saxophones, Barry Guy on bass and Paul Lytton on drums.

High energy, Surd establishes its parameters with the first tune, a speedy punk-rock version of Steve Lacy’s “38”. It encompasses Nordström’s screeching reed bites, complicated-parade ground drum rolls from Strønen, plus rapid note clusters and bell-like reverb from the guitarist.

The oddity about it and the subsequent tracks is the curiously pugnacious soloing of Nordström. Usually an inside-outside player, who has recorded excellent CDs under his own name – featuring bassist Augustson – and with Italian reedist Alberto Pinton, he seems to have put aside his finesse for pure raunch here, Could it be in response to the club crowd?

Most disappointing is “Head P”, which he wrote in honor of the rock band Portishead. More than six minutes of grungy nonchalance, the ballad includes snatches of what could be some of the rock band’s original tunes, but mostly showcases freak notes and false registers from the saxman and tick-tock ringing guitar plucks from Stackenäs.

Other pieces are better, at points giving the guitarist space in which to explore skewed blues vamps and country and western licks as well as moderato picks and plucks. What’s more, Nordström often double and triple tongues after split second forays into higher, buzzier registers. Elsewhere, guitar techniques of the moment include distorted timbres that compress into a steady drone, lots of ringing filigree in double counterpoint to the sax line, and power chording. The reedist also tries out glottal punctuation of single, emphasized notes, plus growls and phrases that seem unattached to anything else. Strønen gets involved as well, ending up smashing every resonating part of his kit on “Bye. Bye Teddy”, which begins with his low-key exploration of struck rims, plus abstracted triangle, bell and cymbal manipulation.

Combing the best and the worst of the situation, the bassist’s “Magnum Bonum” is the track that features steady bass work as well as concussion and friction from the drum kit, giving the front line room to blow. Stackenäs’ slurred fingering broadens to such an extent that it almost sounds as if he’s producing organ chords. This process later gives way to whimpering folksy lines and distorted reverb of flanged excess. Additionally, Nordström seesaws from powerful straightahead blowing to a sort of psychedelic freebop that ends with him squeaking and honking in primitive frenzy, as Strønen attacks the drums as if he was Keith Moon in the days of “My Generation”. Still, this overindulgence seems to excite the Swedish audience.

One month earlier at London’s Freedom of the City festival Stackenäs’ inner Jeff Beck was nowhere in evidence. Instead his cerebral string musings could be related to any one of many low-key BritImprov guitarists. Moreover, the electronics heard on the fist two pieces comes not from amp distortion, but Sandell’s shadowy, arrhythmic manipulations.

“Jansson’s Temptation (part 1)”, for instance, often shifts tonal centres, with the ghostly line of oscillating electronics converging with sideband shakes. Then there’s the pianist’s off-key counter tenor vocalizing that accompany lone key plunks. Pawing single notes, Sandell manipulates fluttering tone hisses at the same instant, with Stackenäs advancing single strums or concussive runs alongside the keys’ trebly plinks.

Using broken octaves, the blunt qualities of both piano and guitar are brought to the forefront midway through, as the pianist’s contrasting dynamics move from low frequency to high frequency and broken chords are massaged into harmonic statements. Keeping very much in the background with chromatic plucks, Stackenäs soon yields to Sandell. From then on the piano man settles himself for as time in the lowest quadrant of the soundboard, unleashing a full open chordal attack of passing chords and pressured pedal sustain so that he seem to be flying across the clavier. With fluttering electronic hisses underscoring his actions, vibrations and overtones race in tandem from left and right hands coalesces into vibrating melodies that are given additional resonance and color, eventually blanching back to single rapped keys.

“Jansson’s Temptation (part 2)” is more of the same, although here among the pulsating slidewhistle tones from electronics, and the abstracted collected chords that define Sandell’s near non-Westernized rubato patterns, the guitarist gets in a few more licks. Flat-picking, he manages to parlay ringing chords and sustained vibrato-like echoes to suggest both the melodic and rhythmic shape of the piece, only gradually succumbing to pick guard and wood slaps that meet piano wood raps and unvarying keyboard patterns.

Upping the ante, the title track welcomes the members of the self-contained British trio, who have been playing together in different combinations for decades. Beginning with a slurred swoop from Parker’s sax and carefully positioned cymbal whap and bell resonation from Lytton, the hosts announce their presence. Soon, with Sandell’s piano patterning, Stackenäs’ plucks and arco actions from Guy, the five are operating in quintuple counterpoint.

Reductionist, the smacks, rattles, shuffles and picks are such that individual identification is masked. Low-level ring modulator loops, buzzes and reverberations amplifying Guy’s ponticello sweeps add to this.

When Parker switches to soprano, teasing out legato swirls that reconstitute themselves into lighter toned actions, the piece opens up still further. Lytton’s guillotine- sharp cymbal slap cut off the reedist’s attempt at circular breathing, as the fretman introduces banjo-like chromatic picking and Sandell key plucks and unleashes low-level electronics.

Two-thirds of the way through, Stackenäs’ strums a series of single notes as the saxophonist circles and powers different distinctive phrases, Guy bows stentoriously and, after scene setting with hollow resonation from a wood block, Lytton scrapes unattached wood and vibrates his cymbals. A brief reconstruction as a piano-bass-drum rhythm section behind judicious finger plucks from the guitarist melts into distracted chording from the piano, off-to-the-side tongue slaps from the reedist, intermittent picking from the guitarist and plucking from the bassist plus rambling drum stomps. In contrast to Surd’s aural flag waving climax, the music of these five logically and delightfully vanishes into thin air.

Stackenäs’ skill making an impression in this exalted company speaks to his development as does his actions trying out new riffs with Surd. Nonetheless, how soon the definitive David Stackenäs guitar statement will emerge is still an open question.

May 2, 2005

EVAN PARKER TRIO & PETER BRÖTZMANN TRIO

The Bishop’s Move
VICTO cd 093

A extraordinary face off between veteran improv titans or as they prefer to say at the Victoriaville festival, un première mondiale, this meeting combines British saxophonist Evan Parker’s touring group with German reedist Peter Brötzmann’s Northern American band. More of a rapprochement than a battle royal, the 73½-minute session, recorded live at Quebec’s Festival International de Musique Actuelle de Victoriaville in 2003 categorically accentuates the similarities rather than the differences between the two improv power trios.

Could it be otherwise? Although Parker is famous for highly technical extended reed techniques like everlasting circular breathing, and Brötzmann is portrayed as the emotional, heart-on-his-sleeve Free Jazzer, they’ve collaborated at various times since the late 1960s. Parker, for instance, is on the German saxophonist’ seminal MACHINE GUN session in 1968. Brötzmann’s association with German pianist Alexander Von Schlippenbach, here officially as part of the Parker band, goes back even further and is more intense, since the two were initial members of the Globe Unity Orchestra. Parker recorded with New York bassist William Parker of Brötzmann’s trio in pianist Cecil Taylor European Orchestra in 1988. Only percussionists Paul Lytton, a Belgium-dwelling-Briton, and Hamid Drake of Chicago don’t have an extended history of playing with members of the other bands or each other. But considering both are among the most prominent on-call drummer in the global improv scene, connections have long been made.

That said, while “The Bishop’s Move” is a notable piece of high-intensity improv, there are only patches of interaction between members of the different trios, let alone among all six musicians at once. Customarily one threesome plays alone, followed by another triad grouping. Most of the time its Von Schlippenbach’s characteristic solos cum accompaniment that bridge the gap between both bands, especially when reed extravagance is highlighted.

Both woodwind players widen the playing field with distinctive slurs and snorts, after the initial Brötzmann renal explosion commences the onslaught. Shortly after the primary statement though, Parker’s trio takes centrestage. Mixing the saxman’s slurring, quacking counter tones and irregular vibrations with the pianist’s contrasting keyboard dynamics and high intensity fantasia of splayed notes, the section turns on Lytton’s pinpointed shattering clatter. Shadowing Parker -- his playing partner of 30-odd years -- the drummer uses cymbal snaps and snare rumbles to modulate the saxophonist’s timbres from elongated, repetitive snarls to the whorls and sprints of circular breathing.

Unexpectedly the pianist’s low frequency tremolos and descending runs not only reinforces a less programmed approach from Parker, but also help orchestrate a Free Jazz, rather than Free Music orientation. With the reedist pitch-vibrating and tongue-stopping, the three display triple counterpoint, each expressing complementary but very separate lines.

Von Schlippenbach’s resounding recoils from the piano innards test the instrument’s balanced tension and abrasively signal Brötzmann’s entry, first with a broken counter line to Parker, then almost immediately, with screaming altissimo and extenuated smeary honks. Power chording from the pianist also overcomes the faint thump of Parker’s bass, until Drake’s ratcheting snares and the pop of hollow percussion moves the sound into the other trio’s corner. Abrasively stroking his hourglass-shaped djembe and other surfaces with sandpaper-like swipes, Drake’s interlude, coupled with an interjection of metronomic arpeggios from the pianist, sets up the German reedist’s utilization of the tarogato for oddly accented, serpentine lines. Added to this is constant ascending pressure points from the bassist.

After Brötzmann’s distinctive choked screams and triple-tongued action finally brings out a split-second of screaming flattement from Parker’s sax, the German-American trio reconfigures itself. Drake’s African-oriented cavernous djembe reverberations serve as the perfect counterweight to the mellow, European-oriented chirrups Brötzmann produces from his clarinet. True to his reputation however, the German reedist is soon exploring the register above coloratura, making incursions to nephritic territory. When he quiets down though, hearty, iron-fingered pizzicato plucking is evident along with restrained portamento color.

Climax is reached as both saxophonists display their idiosyncratic tenor tones, the German snorting and the Briton flutter-tonguing. On top of the bassist’s shuffle spiccato and Drake’s cross sticking, they draw closer together, ejaculating screaming overtones that wouldn’t have been out of place in the militant days of 1968. Egged on by

dynamic patterns from Von Schlippenbach, the two echo one another’s note-placement in the instant composition’s penultimate minutes, with the finale a cross patterning of the pianist’s cadenzas and restrained breaths from the saxophones that fade to dead silence.

Subsequent tumultuous applause characterizes how exciting the ride has been, with only crotchety reviewers eager for more distinct trio interaction.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. The Bishop’s Move

Personnel: Evan Parker (soprano and tenor saxophones); Peter Brötzmann (tenor saxophone, tarogato, a-clarinet); Alexander Von Schlippenbach (piano); William Parker (bass); Paul Lytton (drums and percussion); Hamid Drake (drums, djembe and percussion)

March 28, 2005

Free Jazz and Free Improvisation

An Encyclopedia by Todd S. Jenkins
Greenwood Press Volume One A-J; Volume Two K-Z

By Ken Waxman

January 31, 2005

Reviewing a stand-alone project like Free Jazz and Free Improvisation presents a unique set of challenges, since you must deal with what isn’t covered in the 500-odd oversized pages of these two volumes as much as what is.

From the downbeat author Todd Jenkins has to be commended for his Herculean task, collecting from various sources essential information about Free Music and putting it into approachable form for the student, the researcher as well as the improvisational newbie.

Further props in his favor include the introductory essay, “The Path to Freedom”. In around 40, well-measured, pages, he manages to touch nearly every major current in so-called outside music from the late 1940s all the way up to the present. Subtantially, in the body of the book, his list of individual entries ranges from the irrefutable pioneers -- such as John Coltrane, Ornette Coleman and Cecil Taylor -- all the way up to many newcomers including Bay area saxophonist Rent Romus and Boston-based trumpeter Greg Kelley.

Jenkins is knowledgeable enough about the scene in general to include listings of such little celebrated entities as Muhal Richard Abrams’ influential Experimental Band and the pan-European Quintet Moderne, to cite two entries. Cognizant of Free Music’s universality, he also has a good percentage of entries on non-American performers -- European and Japanese in the main -- as well as separate slots for important nightclubs and record labels. As stand-alone entries, his extensive dissections of the careers and recorded work of important stylists such as Taylor, Anthony Braxton and Evan Parker are exemplary.

That said, Free Jazz and Free Improvisation also encompasses several egregious flaws that compromise the volumes’ status as a reference source. Emphasis is put on certain trends, musicians and record labels to the expense of others that in the future could prove to be as momentous. Furthermore, for a hard-cover publication destined for library shelves and as a long-term reference, an appalling number of omissions, typos, proof reading, editing and even factual mistakes appear.

In many instances also, Jenkins writing is gauche and graceless, relying on such cliched expressions as “avoid like the plague”, “like it or lump it”, “welcome with open arms” and “packed to the rafters”. This may be OK for a rush job destined for next day newspaper publication, but a book, especially an encyclopedia, is a monumental undertaking that should avoid cringe-worthy prose since it will be consulted for years to come.

Briefly, Jenkins is on the most solid ground with his shorter entries, since they pithily state the basic facts and locate the data in the improv continuum. In some of these however, and many of the longer entries, a form of omnipotence weakens the strength of he information. Endless detailing of individual LP and CD tracks and sessions is something best left to record reviewing. Plus, following the lead of Leonard Feather’s pioneering, yet not wholly successful, efforts in his Encyclopedia of Jazz, opinions of others conversant with the works discussed should have been added to Jenkins’ own. To use an obvious cliché, disagreements and preferences are what make horse races.

Although the selection of entries is catholic, too often additional information is missing. Jenkins includes the full birth date, place and year of birth for many musicians, for instance, while other listings lack one, the other or all three. Communications via the Internet has made such lapses dubious. A Web page search or e-mail to the person involved could have yielded the missing date. In 1956 and thereafter, Feather sent out a questionnaire to those musicians he wanted to include in his encyclopedia; 21st Century transmission makes this task that much simpler.

Certainly every reader will have a list of who or what should or shouldn’t have been in the volumes, but a couple of omissions seem more than inexplicable.

The most glaring oversight is lack of a separate listing or even an index references for CODA, the Canadian jazz magazine with a worldwide circulation. Cadence -- founded in 1975 -- and its affiliated record labels rate an entry, while that publication and Signal to Noise, which began in the very late 1990s, are cited as “periodicals specifically oriented towards new music” in the end notes.

CODA has had its ups and down over the years, but as a journal “published continuously since May 1958” as its masthead states, it has been a constant champion for Free Music almost from its beginning. During the late 1970s in fact, the magazine’s affiliated Sackville and Onari label released some now-classic Free Jazz/Free Improv sessions, a role which Cadence’s labels admirably fills today.

Another puzzling omission is that of New York trombonist Steve Swell, especially since many of the players with whom he associates rate their own listing. A few others musicians who could be included are, from Europe: pianist Michiel Braam and reedist Ab Baars of the Netherlands, Spanish pianist Augustí Fernández and British drummer Paul Hession. Then from the United States: Mississippi drummer Alvin Fielder, Texas trumpeter Dennis González, New Yorkers, saxist Michael Marcus and pianist Uri Caine, plus drummer Gino Robair and saxist Francis Wong from the Bay area. And that’s only thinking of 10 at random.

Where would the publishers have found room for these entries? Removal of quasi-improvisers who come from the rock music world such as Thurston Moore, Jim O’Rourke and Fennez [!] could provide some space. Plus a 17-page, year-by-year Chronology of Events from 1949 through 2003 at the beginning of the volume that lists births, deaths and record releases already included in the text, could have been excised.

Adding or removing entries may be merely an exercise in different priorities between this reviewer and the author. But mistakes and misstatements aren’t open to discussion.

To list a few, again at random:

 Barre Phillips is described as a British bassist in the entry on Peter Brötzman, but correctly as an American in his own

 Big Nick Nicholas was a tenor saxophonist, not a blues singer

 Violinist Billy Bang didn’t “found” the String Trio of New York, it was a cooperative effort between him, guitarist James Emery and bassist John Lindberg

 No effort is made to explain that the “Rev” in tenor saxophonist’s Frank Wright’s name was a nickname for his soulful playing, not a legitimate ecclesiastical title

 Sun Ra didn’t play in the big band of Erskine Caldwell, the author of Tobacco Road, but in the band of Erskine Hawkins, the popular trumpeter

 Ajay Heble isn’t the former Guelph Jazz Festival director, he still holds that post

 John Coltrane recorded Olé for Atlantic not Impulse and Ascension for Impulse not Atlantic; the reverse is stated in the introduction

 Poet/activist Amiri Baraka’s name change reflected his Pan-African revolutionary Marxism not a conversion to Islam as is misstated twice

 Novelist Jean Toomer, who is mentioned in the entry on altoist Marion Brown, is a “he” not a “she”

While this list may seem excessively nitpicky, precisely because Free Jazz and Free Improvisation is an encyclopedia, these missteps are particularly egregious. Even in the 21st Century anything printed between hard covers is given extraordinary respect, so these errors will be perpetuated for some time.

While Free Jazz and Free Improv followers can pick up these volumes, they should be very conscious of these faults before doing so. Perhaps one way around the conundrum, would be for the author to annually publish a yearbook that would bring things up to date. Another welcome gesture would be if buyers could be provided with an set of corrections should they purchase the volumes. The information could even be e-mailed after the publisher is contacted.

Despite Jenkins’ hard work, it appears that Free Jazz and Free Improvisation is still only another small step on the road to completeness for individuals and institutions that seek a permanent collection of facts about these genres.

January 31, 2005

PARKER/SCHLIPPENBACH/LYTTON

America 2003
psi 04.06/7

Free Music pioneers -- reedist Evan Parker, pianist Alexander Von Schlippenbach and percussionist Paul Lytton -- would never think of making an “in the tradition” record. Yet this two-CD souvenir of the trio’s 2003 American tour can be heard as the band’s “jazz” record.

Not that anyone plays “Satin Doll” or “Hothouse” or lays down proper bebop riffs. It’s just that within the parameters of individual expression that the three have developed over the years, you can hear echoes of honking R&B saxmen from Parker and boogie-woogie bluescians from Schlippenbach.

An accidental adjustment when Parker and Lytton’s longtime partner, bassist Barry Guy, couldn’t make the tour, the trio fuses two-thirds of that band with two-thirds of the Parker/Schlippenbach group, usually filled out by drummer Paul Lovens. The unexpected results, recorded in New Orleans and Seattle, appear to have produced novel variations. Not only are there trio bits and designated solo spots from the pianist and saxophonist, but there are also sections where the focus is on a Parker-Lytton duo or a Schlippenbach-Lytton duet.

Exposing modern-primitivism, a tune like “To avoid monotony” features low- intensity piano arpeggios that suggest a modern Jimmy Yancy, while the saxist’s jagged snorts and echoing, raw phrases could come from Buddy Tate, early in his career in the Southwest. Lytton’s heavy wooden sticks then add a low rumble from the drum skins.

Solo, Schlippenbach creates a sidelong, rippling effect, along with piano patterns that only graze bebop through affiliation with the individualistic approach of Thelonious Monk, one of the form’s originators. “This blowing of trumpets confused them” finds the recurrent Monkish cast particularly notable, after the pianist begins the piece moving from dark, internal registers to mock, child-like chording exercises. Light-toned swirling cadenzas, backed by the flams and rebounds of Lytton’s snares turn to quicker and quicker chords after Parker enters three-quarters of the way through with a keening soprano line that sounds vaguely Middle Eastern. Eventually it supersedes both the drummer’s rumbles and crashes and the pianist’s note patterning.

More instructively, “No one wanted to be an artist but every man wanted to be paid for his labours” suggests McCoy Tyner’s work with John Coltrane, as Parker’s more straightforward, leaping reed line leavened with smeary overblowing meets up with modal, high-intensity chording from Schlippenbach. Fleet-fingered, and with reflective voicings, the pianist piles arpeggios onto arpeggios and follows cadenzas with cadenzas.

Making the sound even more contemporary, internal preparations distinguish the pianist’s playing from his jazz forefathers on “Perhaps this was his chance”. On this tune especially, the allusions to aluminum pie plates vibrating on the piano strings melds with Parker’s spectral reed whistling and distant squeaks. As the reedist extends his circular breathing on soprano sax, the combination of his timbres and the metallic crashes from piano innards almost bounce off the venue’s walls.

That’s one thing Lytton’s sensitive accompaniment doesn’t do. Alternating contrasting pressure and dynamics, his percussion positioning ranges from tiny, timed links from slapping single bells or hollow wood blocks to the focused rattles, smacks and pops of so-called modern jazz drumming.

Circular breathing that produces one lyrical tone then a harsher, obtuse overtone from Parker, plus churning cadenzas and accelerating chord connections from Schlippenbach aside, another reason AMERICA 2003 is so interesting is the even more novel techniques the veterans introduce.

“I had a friend among the angels” demonstrates this aptly as over a semi-martial beat from Lytton and Schlippenbach’s vibrating preparations, Parker’s slurs and flutter tonguing skirts past screech mode. Besides tongue slaps his elongated output soon become almost trumpet-like -- muted with near plunger tones.

Jazz, boogie woogie, atonality, free music, whatever… In this configuration Parker, Schlippenbach and Lytton build an unanticipated novel sound from the sum of their techniques, backgrounds and future ideas.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. CD1: 1. Rejoicing in their hearts over the journey 2. Ask to be taken on as a trumpeter 3. This blowing of trumpets confused them 4. What memories of the past were recalled! 5. Perhaps this was his chance 6. To avoid monotony CD2: 1. No one wanted to be an artist but every man wanted to be paid for his labours 2. The breath of coldness 3. Are you strong enough for heavy work? 4. I had a friend among the angels 5. Down with all those who do not believe in us

Personnel: Evan Parker (soprano and tenor saxophones), Alexander Von Schlippenbach (piano); Paul Lytton (percussion)

January 31, 2005

EVAN PARKER’S ELECTRO-ACOUSTIC ENSEMBLE

Memory/Vision
ECM 1852

Accelerating involvement in electro-acoustic creations has characterized one of British saxophonist Evan Parker’s many activities since the mid-1990s.

Parker, whose more than 35 year career has involved membership in groups ranging from massive big bands to two matchless improv trios, and who helped create the solo saxophone recital, has mastered a different genre with this CD.

In its parameters and evocation, this 70-minute plus continuous performance, commissioned by a British contemporary music festival, amplifies the reedist’s partnerships and conceptions. Performed by a nonet, two of the players -- bassist Barry Guy and percussionist Paul Lytton -- are Parker collaborators of decades standing and combine in one of his long constituted trios. Two others -- British/Ugandan violinist Philipp Wachsmann and Spanish pianist Augustí Fernández have worked with Parker in duo and larger group situations, both electronic an acoustic. Parker and Guy alone have recorded with Lawrence Casserley who mans the signal processing equipment here; while computer sound processor Joel Ryan has worked with Parker and French bassist Joëlle Léandre, another Parker associate. Italians Walter Prati on electronics and sound processing and Marco Vecchi on electronics have participated in the saxist’s other electro-acoustic sessions.

On this CD, both the drummer and violinist sport electronic enhancements to their instruments; Fernández plays prepared as well as regular piano, and the saxophonist himself adds tapes and samples to his emblematic circular breathing and freak effects.

With five acoustic instrumentalists and four machine manipulators, it’s to Parker’s credit that the performance doesn’t take on the sort of mechanical sheen of some Continental electro-acoustic sessions. Then again, with the players masters of extended techniques, unexpected sounds are par for the course on Parker-led dates.

Contrapuntal and polyphonic, the sound streams reach a climax starting at mid point. Counter to the busy movements within the piano and from spiccato strings, the reedist comes up with a whistling, almost flute-like timbre that accelerates from single puffs. Meantime the strings produce dissonant tones that rotate and separate into partials. Around those, ejaculating sine waves curve so that the entity takes on the character of a large, stable church organ.

Repetitive reed cadences flutter across the scene, augmented to saxophone section volume by looped samples. Soon the multiplying saxes subdivide still further into duos, trios and quartets, as one -- the live Parker -- brushes aside exploding echoes for a distinctive ostinato. As all this downshifts to silence, plucked and scraped bass and violin lines -- extended with processing -- join with the soprano to float on top of dynamically vibrated note clusters from the prepared piano. Spinning every which way among reed and string textures, Fernández pummels cascading harmonies into a powerful solo of staggered chords and ghostly string runs.

Pushing and thrusting deeper into its innards, creating unfathomable broken timbres, the pianist is accompanied by a hollow pop from Lytton’s snare and plucked and scraped strings that circle him like vultures. Now electronically produced fuzz from the cymbals melds with the massed pizzicato strings that too are extended with processing -- producing a multiplicity of scraped and abrasive tones. Suddenly, backed only by Lytton, Parker re-enters the fray with a polyphonic counterline that moves up the scale in mini bleats, neighs and slurs. Eventually focused pings and percussive ruffs from Lytton are joined by rumbled crashes from the piano innards, which sound as if an aluminum pie plate has been heaved on top of the strings.

Building up to a crescendo with more aviary sounds than Alfred Hitchcock imagined for “The Birds”, Parker’s irregular vibrations appear never-ending as they’re joined by high frequency piano overtones than processed side bands of what in other circumstances could be brass. Now the electronica, which has been threateningly understated before this, takes centre stage -- sound-wise -- as the miasmic colors burst into reverberating, sine wave crashes, tubular bell-like textures and scours processed from anything strung. For the finale, Fernández introduces double counterpoint, breaking up his contrasting dynamics as the meshed arco violin and double bass output turns muted. Parker breathes a final distinctive circular tone to silence.

Digressions on all these strategies occupy the beginning of “Memory/Vision” as well, with preparations, piano rumble, ponticello strings and slurred reed trills following one another or inflating to curt controlling textures. Grainy, grating timbres predominate over smooth themes however.

Memorable in its cohesiveness and melding of both electronic and acoustic elements, MEMORY/VISION proves that Parker and company can twist any sort of output to fit their requirement. Still for longtime Parkerites, there’s the feeling that fewer associates and less electricity would give him more scope for improvisation.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Part 1 2. Part 2 3. Part 3 4. Part 4 5. Part 5 6. Part 6 7. Part 7

Personnel: Evan Parker (soprano saxophone, tapes and samples); Philipp Wachsmann (violin and electronics); Augustí Fernández (piano and prepared piano); Barry Guy (bass); Paul Lytton (percussion and electronics); Joel Ryan (computer and sound processing); Lawrence Casserley (signal processing equipment); Walter Prati (electronics and sound processing); Marco Vecchi (electronics)

December 20, 2004

John Tilbury & Eddie Prévost

discrete moments
Matchless

Evan Parker & Eddie Prévost
imponderable evidence
Matchless

By Ken Waxman
November 22, 2004

Despite various personnel permutations in British microtonal progenitor AMM since its formation in 1966, members have always characterized the band as involving much more than the musicians on stage and on record.

While this particular piece of mysticism seems out of character for the prodigiously educated and experienced players who make up the band, there’s no disputing that non-AMM projects expose unexpected musical persona of its members. Both these duo CDs are cases-in-point.

On the first, master percussionist Eddie Prévost, AMM’s only consistent member over the years, explores sound and textures with John Tilbury, a polymorphous keyboardist and New Music specialist, who is the band’s newest consistent recruit, having been on board only since 1984. Perhaps this is more than a duo however, since the AMM’s third member, guitarist Keith Rowe, often and ingenuously insists that collectively the band itself is another group member. Thus the CD is slightly different, but still has a lot in common with customary -- if that’s the right word to use in this context -- AMM discs.

Prévost, who performs with his own jazz-oriented combos, leads improvisational workshops in London and writes about Free Music, is matched with another longtime British thinker and improviser on the other CD. Playing only drums, he joins with tenor saxophonist Evan Parker, one of the few other British musicians whose unique contributions to improvisation began as long ago as AMM’s and are still ongoing. Parker is also the only person to have performed in duo formation with each contemporary AMM member. This is his second duo with Prévost.

The saxophonist, whose massive discography encompasses everything from solo sessions to big band dates -- including a tongue-in-cheek titled 1984 SuperSession featuring Prévost, Rowe and bassist Barry Guy -- has such a singular vision that he’s always himself no matter the context. He also has extensive experience working in a duo setting with percussionists, having recorded with John Stevens and Paul Lytton among many others. Imponderable evidence shows how the distinctive Parker saxophone sound can be both completely unlike any other, yet alter subtly to fit in with a drummer’s ideas.

Centre of this CD is the almost 15-minute “Exhibit C”, where the saxist’s polytonal growls turn to honks and partial smears to meet the rumble and clatter of upfront percussion. Harsh and grainy, with irregular vibrations and flutter tonguing, Parker’s textures fasten themselves on top of cymbal splatters and echoing rattles from what sound like a tambourine resting on top of the hi-hat. Curiously hollow-sounding drum side shots and drum stick nerve beats presage reed tongue stopping and irregular vibrato displays. As many single strokes and shuffles Prévost plays, and as often as Parker squeals and squeaks, there’s no mistaking them for other saxophonists or drummers. This is especially apparent when Parker serves up his by-now-expected displays of extended circular breathing.

On “Exhibit B’ for example, the timbres pile up one after another like so many two-by-fours at a building site. Echoing and rumbling, Parker’s output encompasses double tonguing, flutter tonguing, slurs and slide slipping. Prévost responds in kind with rolling pulses, rat-tat-tats, flams and ruffs that break up the rhythmic impetus and showcase different parts of his kit. At one point it seems as if he’s using felt-tipped mallets to cull kettle-drum-like reverberations. Jazz references are especially pronounced here as well. Just before he concludes his solo, for a split second Parker appears to be quoting the head of Monk’s “Played Twice”.

Facing the hurricane of reed textures throughout, the drummer uses all sorts of strategies from concussions on the ride cymbal and snare tops to constant tempo changes and ratcheting scratches from many vibrating surfaces.

Even more extended techniques are added to Prévost’s repertoire for discrete moments, as are a tam-tam, a stringed barrel and other assorted percussion to his regular kit. Not to be outdone, Tilbury plays prepared piano and organ along with his usual piano. At 75½ minutes, the CD is divided into eight sections that superficially resemble a nocturne, with sounds that are not so much reductionist as a reorientation of the AMM style.

As in other minimalistic projects, what isn’t heard is as generic to the tracks’ development as what is. The keyboardist in particular is more involved with rumination than physical action. Evidentially he considers all possible combinations and ramification of what he’s going to do in the split second before he sounds any note.

You can hear this happening on the nearly 19-minute “R”, when wiggling undifferentiated drones turn to what in other contexts could be module output signals, but which finally constitute themselves into acoustic timbres. No record of stasis, discrete moments is more comparable to watching the chemicals in the tray during the development process gradually transforming treated paper into the shape and form of a photograph. As contrapuntal cross chording and extended cymbal hiss and patterning coagulate into this-side-of near-noiselessness, there are minute tempo changes, but no melody -- just striated scrapes and scratches. Eventually as the timbres become shriller and more obtuse, you can almost see the resulting creation shimmering, mirror-like, as if it was a Van Gogh landscape.

Two of the tracks -- especially “I” -- include sections that are unexpectedly fortissimo, when Tilbury lets loose on the organ’s double keyboards. Although the initial organ crescendo nearly drowns out Prévost’s concentrated cymbal raps, the two soon reach a rapprochement. Scraped and ratcheted percussion tones amplify two lines from the organ -- a continuous high-pitched reed-like tone from the top, and a secondary harmonic line as pedal point continuum.

On “T”, near silent, resonating tam tam buzzes and perceptible organ pedal movements first take on circular saw timbres, then the keyboard sounds intensify, into the textures of an approaching thunderstorm. While swelling organ pressure may polyphonically intersect with drum cross currents, you’d never confuse this for a duet between Soul Jazz organist Jimmy Smith and drummer Dave Bailey for example.

Not that there are many -- or should it be any -- references to earlier epochs, since the disc’s textures, like those of AMM, are complete and of themselves, but here separate from the so-called AMM style as well.

Especially notable is Prévost’s use of the stringed barrel that allows him to produce both percussion and string sounds. Stretching and ricocheting the cord more like an archer then like a double bassist, the percussionist generates an echoing slur, which is given additional resonance by the cavernous container. One particular manipulation forces the hollow sphere to spawn two different jolts at the same time.

Not to be outdone, Tilbury’s procedure range from high frequency arpeggios extended with glissandi, to prepared piano broken chording on top of an accompanying left-handed ostinato. When either side gets too intense, thematic groupings and uneven note patterns right the imbroglio into a cooperative creation.

Changing the musical landscape shows how Tilbury and Prévost can operate outside of AMM. Plus the disc with Parker as a playing partner gives the dark embroidery of the percussionist’s improvising new colors with which to work.

November 15, 2004

Derek Bailey and the Story of Free Improvisation

By Ben Watson
Verso Books

by Ken Waxman

October 1, 2004

Endlessly inventive as an improviser and a superb organizer, guitarist Derek Bailey is also opinionated, combative, passively aggressive, dogmatic and often self-satisfied. Still, the 74-year-old Sheffield, England-born Bailey is pretty much at Ground Zero when it comes to discussing Free Music, at least in its British manifestation.

London-based critic Ben Watson attempts to explain both the man and his music in this volume. Yet Watson also tries for much more than standard biographical, chronological and discographical fact gathering. He not only ponders Free Music’s place among other, more commercial musics, but also tries to show how experimental sounds reflect musicians’ liberation from what he sees as a class-ridden, capitalist society.

A fascinating read for most of its 443 pages plus index, Derek Bailey and the Story of Free Improvisation offers impressive insights as well as infuriating opinions. Besides tying together the various strands of history that created Free Music almost a half-century ago, Watson interprets many of the events according to his variant of humanistic socialism. Understand that this is likely the first serious, yet anecdotal book on jazz and improvised music to come from a Marxist perspective since Frank Kofsky’s John Coltrane and the Jazz Revolution of the 1960s. As Watson writes at one point, “Free Improvisation … is the manifestation of socialist revolution in music -- practical, collective, anti-ideological and humanist”.

There are times however when Watson’s admitted bias results in some conclusions that are more discordant than a Free Music solo. Most off-putting is when his criticism of careerism takes in such hitherto unconnected players as pioneering fusion guitarist John McLaughlin and uncompromising saxophonist Evan Parker -- once a close associate of Bailey now estranged. Both these two and many other players are suspect it seems, because they refuse to accept in toto Bailey’s singular theories that the basis of Free Music is selfless collective improvisation.

Born in a lower working class family in 1930, Bailey was a dance band and studio musician at a time in Britain when that sort of music-making was considered a craft rather than art -- rather like being a pipe fitter or a blacksmith. Someone who says he probably played every night of the week at one job or another from 1955 to 1968, the guitarist’s no-nonsense work ethnic has carried over into Free Music. As he tells Watson: “I’ve never thought I could do anything -- what I do now or playing commercial music -- unless I did it full-time”.

Although satisfied as a pre-rock commercial musician, Bailey admits he was still looking for a way to express himself more creatively and was constantly woodshedding during that period. Although he has had a lifelong admiration for American guitarist Charlie Christian’s advances, because of circumstances, he never described himself as a jazz musician. British jazzers couldn’t play the music full-time, he notes, and that was a violation of Bailey’s working class ethos.

In a perverse way it was the advent of Beatlemania that drove Bailey and others to Free Music. No longer did a commercial musician have the freedom to interpret popular songs his own way; they had to sound exactly as they did on the record. At about that point, Bailey, and two younger Sheffield musicians, student bassist Gavin Bryars -- now a certified composer of so-called serious music -- and Tony Oxley -- who later on was house drummer at Ronnie Scott’s famous London jazz club -- started searching for their own path.

Impressed by the advances of such Free Jazz stylists as John Coltrane, Eric Dolphy, Ornette Coleman and Scott LaFaro, in 1965 they formed the co-operative Joseph Holbrooke Trio, named for an early Cockney composer. In short order they went from playing conventional jazz, to playing an English variant of Free Jazz, to outlining the first stirring of what could be called Free Music.

Later Bailey and Oxley moved to London and began interacting and exchanging ideas with other early BritImprov experimenters such as drummer John Stevens, trombonist Paul Rutherford and saxophonists Trevor Watts and Parker.

It’s at this point where the book’s chronology and Watson’s analysis breaks down somewhat. Claims and counter claims about which musician developed which way of playing that was later accepted as Free Improv, divided and continues to divide certain parts of the Free Music world. Certainly the supposed free spirit of the 1960s when previously experimental groups like Soft Machine and Pink Floyd had best selling records encouraged everyone, including journeymen like McLaughlin -- whose breakthrough fusion LP, Extrapolation, featured Oxley -- to try new things. And major record companies even recorded them. Anyone who nowadays collects Free Music on weirdly distributed CDs on tiny labels can attest to how things have changed.

But Bailey has remained constant in his collectivist ideas -- at least as he sees it. Despite being part of various playing situations with those men and many other contemporary musical explorers, Bailey was and is a Free Music purist, and the author describes the guitarist “formulating his theory of permanent improvisation”, a resonance simulacrum Leon Trotsky’s slogan of “permanent revolution”. Always seeking more freedom and less structure, Bailey is now capable of describing 1968’s Karyobin, one of the first certified British Free Music classics -- and one on which he played -- as in retrospect sounding like “Whitey Free Jazz”.

Bailey has also peevishly insisted on the irrefutable difference between European Free Music and American Free Jazz, which seems a bit perverse as years go on. However, this hasn’t stopped him over time from collaborating with American musicians firmly in the jazz sphere including saxophonists Steve Lacy, Anthony Braxton and Lee Konitz plus bassist William Parker and pianist Cecil Taylor.

As Bailey’s biographer, who constantly interviewed and consulted with the guitarist over a three-year period as this volume was being written, Watson is also a little too accepting of the guitarist’s POV. Bailey’s stated role as a working class bloke from the provinces who just happened to stumble upon a way of playing that satisfies him and is somehow accepted by a few other intelligent fans, seems a bit louche.

After all Bailey has played literally thousands of gigs throughout the world and has been featured on hundreds of discs over the years. He, Oxley and Parker founded Incus, the first British Free Music record label in 1970, which he continues to run today. In 1980 he turned a series of programs he produced for the BBC’s Radio 3 into the book Improvisation: Its Nature and Practice in Music, and this seminal volume is still in print and has been updated, republished and translated into other languages.

More importantly for Free Music’s dissemination, from 1977 to 1994, first regularly, then sporadically, Bailey organized Company Weeks. These musical free-for-alls, were concerts featuring mix-and-match combinations of any number of advanced jazzers, boho classical types and dissatisfied rockers playing Free Music. Bailey recorded and released the resulting either spectacular or disappointing admixture on Incus.

Little of Bailey’s adult personal history is included -- we only learn in passing that he has been in three serious relationships. More seriously, Watson, who can report exactly what V. I. Lenin said about keeping useless people off the editorial board of the newspaper Iskra in 1903 -- incidentally the name of another Bailey co-op trio -- discloses the guitarist’s ongoing animosity towards Parker without ever probing the reason for the break. Even Bailey admits that “a lot of my relationships have sundred at the point where somebody thought I was using them.”

Maddeningly as well, the author mostly defines Bailey’s improvisation in terms of what it isn’t, rather than what it is. He writes that “Bailey’s cool and precise -- yet piercing and aggressive -- tone denies the generic associations and pleasures previously associated with the electric guitar”. And later: “The guitar playing of Bailey sabotages merely sonic pleasures, redirecting attention to the totality of the music. With Bailey, a guitar note is not an end in itself, but a purposeful contribution to musical development -- a question.” For Watson as well, Free Music “articulates the values of socialism as against those of capitalism: life lived as a dialectical contribution to human history, rather then cowering in positive and defended comfort.”

Part of Watson’s challenge may be Bailey outwardly taciturn blandness. In critical situations, as when listening to CDs for The Wire’s Invisible Jukebox -- reprinted in the book --, the guitarist refuses to offer anything but non-committal praise for any musician and music he hears, only relenting when he extravagantly revels in the music of -- surprise! -- Charlie Christian.

Luckily Watson hasn’t settled for the superficial. Doing his research, he has gone through masses of published articles and interviewed other observers, including not only Oxley and Bryars, but also a fan who was at most Joseph Holbrooke gigs. Bailey will probably be shocked to find the fellow describe the music as “really swinging hard … very powerful like listening to the [Count] Basie band”.

To offer other perspectives on Bailey’s sounds, Watson reprints his own and others’ reviews of important Bailey discs and gigs. Though it must be said he seems to prefer those who praise Bailey rather than those who damn him. Finally, as someone who personally attended many Company Weeks and was present at many other Bailey playing situations Watson offers his own perspective on what did and didn’t work in those situations. Again, not surprisingly though, it most often appears to the author that Bailey’s improvisations were the saving grace in most awkward musical circumstances.

Derek Bailey and the Story of Free Improvisation is invaluable for the way in which Watson situates Bailey’s conception and musicality within the worldwide jazz, classical and pop scenes of the past 40-odd years. Admirable too is his analysis of the many Bailey projects that took place while the guitarist was, in Watson’s words “waiting for the rest of the world to catch up”.

Until someone else with investigative reporting skills and, hopefully no academic or polemical axes to grind, deals with the other major British Free Music figures in as great depth, this book will remain a primary source for understanding improvised music from that country.

Bailey’s sometime perverse music and Free Improvisation itself are precious and memorable for another reason. Watson articulates it at great length near the end of this volume:

“In the late capitalist era, the ability to supply ‘quality product’ has become the assumed aim of everyone, from manufacturers of chicken tika to suppliers of industry-friendly graduate students. The ideology of commodity production means that everything must serve the needs of the accumulation of capital, or be decried as useless, self-indulgent and anti-social. In such circumstances, it’s no surprise that ‘perversity’ has become a word for what the bourgeoisie promised us in its early, heroic, revolutionary epoch: freedom.”

October 1, 2004

CHRIS MCGREGOR’S BROTHERHOOD OF BREATH

Bremen To Bridgwater
Cuneiform Records Rune 182/183

Count Basie of the Townships could have been the late South African pianist Chris McGregor’s nickname. That is, if his Brotherhood of Breath (BOB) big band, featured on this two-CD set of 1970s performances, didn’t add the colorations of Charles Mingus’ bigger groups and suggestions of Hank Crawford’s arrangements for Ray Charles to its unique mix of modern jazz and South African jive.

Earlier, apartheid era officials went out of their way to discourage the white pianist from mixing with black musicians. Which is why Capetown’s McGregor (1936-1990) and his black fellow players in the Blue Notes sextet ended up living permanently in Europe after 1964.

Mixing with British free improvisers such as saxophonists Elton Dean and Evan Parker, trumpeters Marc Charig and trombonist Radu Malfatti -- all of whom are represented on the over 2½ hours of previously unreleased music here -- the combo gradually expanded to big band size. That didn’t happen all at once, or stay permanent, as personnel shifts during the concerts captured on this set, one from 1971 in Germany and two from 1975 in England, reflect this.

At the same time BREMEN TO BRIDGWATER has to be recognized for what it is and what it isn’t. As a live record of a touring band it offers some exceptional swinging music enlivened by valuable solos from many musicians, including some who unfortunately are no longer around due to death or illness. But road conditions also mean that the performances aren’t as tight as they would be in a studio environment, and the recording is sometimes muffled and tubby. Many of the pieces rely on constantly repeated riffs and blaring dynamics. In fact, a few tunes and some of the solos could have been excised.

That said, BOB’s unique mixture of free jazz, kwela, swing blues and hard bop -- performed at jet plane-like speeds -- meant that roistering, hard bodied pieces that never seem to let up are its stock in trade. Especially interesting are the adaptations the Blue Notes’ star soloists made to this new environment.

Although McGregor’s approach was always pretty basic, tunes like “Now” on CD1, “Union Special” and “Sonia” features the kind of bluesy interchange you would expect to more readily find on Chicago’s Southside. Plus, notably on the first tune, the pianist’s comping and offbeat interjections feed the soloists in such a way that their thought process become more expansive -- sort of what Basie did for his band members as well. Many of McGregor’s compositions somehow have that American Southwest Territory band feel -- complete with call and response from the horn and brass sections.

Alto saxophonist Dudu Pukwana (died-1990) is thoroughly his own man, and maintains his unique repertoire of sax squeaks and disco whistle tweets when he plays. There are times, such as on “Sonia”, where his full-blown multiphonics seem to be as much East St. Louis R&B as East London Township jive. Trombonist Nick Evans’ gutbucket blasts help maintain the mood, as does the polyrhythmic drumming of Louis Moholo, the only Blue Note still living in 2004.

In his solos, trumpeter Mongezi Feza (died-1975) shows that by this juncture he was listening to Don Cherry and other advanced brassman as well as high note specialists like Dizzy Gillespie. On Pukwana’s “The Birds”, for instance, he constantly slithers up the chromatic scale, constructing his solo out of high-pitched triplets smeared over the sonic surface. Besides bashing his snares, Moholo sounds as if he’s contributing Africanized whirl drum textures and tenor saxophonist Gary Windo, who spent time in Carla Bley big band, snorts split tones before trading licks with Feza.

Another South African, bassist Harry Miller (died-1983), who didn’t join the others until all immigrated to Europe, fuses impressively with Moholo’s backbeat and McGregor’s fills to provide the powerful spine underneath all 16 tracks. The few times he introduces a number or takes a couple of bars solo he proves that he could hold his own with the best timekeepers as well.

It’s also interesting to see which future BritImprov types were doing in the band, since BOB’s compositions usually meanders through echoes of down-to-earth swing, focused hard bop with echoes of “Bags Groove” and Mingus-like blow outs.

Mike Osborne, whose career as a freebopper was unfortunately curtailed by metal illness, acquits himself well with some characteristic glossolalia intersecting with smoother lines on, for instance, his own untitled original. He does strain to be heard over over-recorded drums though. Similar miasmic sound hampers him on “Kwhalo”. Unexpectedly, some of his best work comes on the clarinet. His fluid, double-tongued lines are as unique as his choice of axes.

Altoist Dean, who still moves between free music and jazz rock, doesn’t really surprise in his straightahead solos, neither do the few asides by future London Jazz Composers Orchestra stalwarts trumpeter Charig and trombonist Malcolm Griffith. But unless there’s a discographical mistake, that’s BritImprov exemplar Parker slurring and honking his way through the finger snapping second version of “Now” in a way never heard before or since.

As an aside, when BOB expresses its most freeform piece, “Restless”, it’s the South Africans -- McGregor double-timing, Moholo vibrating all parts of his kit, Miller double stopping, Feza producing brass flurries and Pukwana squeaking in irregular vibratos -- who are most far out.

Should your tastes run to kwela, Southwestern swing riffs, ceremonial music, hard bop, free jazz and/or rhythmic abandon you’ll find much to like here. Putting aside the occasional slipshod sound, this is another two-platter helping of BOB in its prime for its fans and for those who deserve to discover this fine band.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: CD1: 1. Funky Boots March 2. Kongi’s Theme 3. Now 4. The Bride 5. Think of Something 6. Union Special 7. Andromeda 8. Do It 9. The Serpent’s Kindly Eye 10. Untitled Original CD2: 1. Sonia 2. Now 3. Yes, please 4. Restless 5. Kwhalo 6. Untitled Original

Personnel: Marc Charig, Harry Beckett, Mongezi Feza (trumpets); Nick Evans, Malcolm Griffin, Radu Malfatti (trombones); Mike Osborne (alto saxophone and clarinet); Evan Parker (soprano saxophone and tenor saxophone); Dudu Pukwana, Elton Dean (alto saxophone); Gary Windo, Alan Skidmore (tenor saxophone); Bruce Grant (baritone saxophone); Chris McGregor (piano); Harry Miller (bass); Keith Bailey or Louis Moholo (drums)

June 21, 2004

STAN TRACEY/EVAN PARKER

Suspensions and Anticipations
psi 04.02

Back in the 1950s there was a whole series of records called something like “Jazz Music for People Who Don’t Like Jazz”. This CD could bear a similar subtitle: “An Evan Parker CD for People Who Don’t Like Evan Parker”.

Not that this pioneering exponent of BritImprov has altered his style to make it more listener friendly. But this match-up with pianist Stan Tracey, the 77-year-old iconoclastic British jazzer, finds the 60-year-old Parker -- who sticks to tenor saxophone throughout -- creating a gentle, balladic disc that may attract those outside of the hardcore Free Improv crowd.

Tracey, who recorded a lyrical trio recasting of Dylan Thomas’ “Under Milkwood” in 1965, is usually classified as a modern jazzman, whatever that means. But in this selection of 11 improvisations, performed moderato or andante, there’s no sense of a complacent mainstreamer mixing it up with a fire-breathing avant-gardist. Instead, the pianist’s improvising is as slyly spiky and as unpredictable as Parker’s tonal explorations.

“Skevington’s Daughter”, for instance, finds Tracey contributing strummed chords and understated glissandos, while Parker’s nuanced overblowing produces unexpected note patterns that skip child-like after the pianist’s bell-like tones. When the reedist turns to circular breathing for a bit, the piano man merely widens his accompanying figures. “Step” finds the saxist introducing polyphonic smears and the occasional key pop as Tracey plays a bolero style rhythm behind him. Then Parker takes off on a series of parallel reed swoops and expansive arpeggios.

Then there’s the title tune where it’s Parker who sounds as if he’s quoting from half-remembered hard bop lines. When the saxist’s output finally turn to trills, flutter-tonguing, honks and dips into the bass clef, Tracey hardens his touch, produces choppy thematic shreds and introduces a frantic left handed portemento sweep.

“Kite”, the slow and stately longest track, finds Tracey holding onto a metronomic beat -- until Parker wavers out higher tones and the pianist responds with quick, quasi-stride figure. Soon the saxophonist is slurring and double tonguing new notes, ending with a characteristic circular breathed mewl as Tracey seems to slide along his keys, adagio, creating the same sort of slur.

On his solo feature, honoring Sonny Rollins, Parker sounds like no one but himself, snorting out different reed phrases, then echoing their vibrations through his horn’s body tube. Conversely, on his two solo selections, Tracey appears to be trying different persona on for size. Relying a lot on pedal sustain, emphasized tremolos and repetition, on one he offers up baroque filigree, a double timed suggestion of Monk as well as some speedy Ahmad Jamal-like contrasting dynamics. On the other, his wide expanse of pumping piano is mixed with low frequency relaxed runs. Throughout he works the pedals so that you can hear each note’s reverberation. Coda is a brief right hand tinkle of the highest notes than a final full keyboard crash.

SUSPENSIONS AND ANTICIPATIONS can probably be classified as a CD of interest to everyone -- including those who like or don’t like Evan Parker’s playing -- as well as those who like or don’t like the playing of Stan Tracey.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. A Nice Slice 2. Nicely Placed 3. Step 4. Knuckle Shuffle 5. Terms and Conditions Apply 6. New Fork (for Newk)] 7. Suspensions and Anticipations 8. Special Purpose 9. Skevington’s Daughter 10. Kite 11. Maggot

Personnel: Evan Parker (tenor saxophone); Stan Tracey (piano)

June 14, 2004

KENNY WHEELER

Song for Someone
psi 04.01

Epitome of the polite, quiet Canadian, trumpeter/flugelhornist Kenny Wheeler has now lived in Great Britain for more than a half century. During that time he’s gone from playing in large dance and bebop bands to working with international free music ensembles to creating a modified synthesis of all those influences as his own music.

This direct reissue of a 1973 LP may have been when it was first released the most conventional item on what was then guitarist Derek Bailey’s and saxophonist Evan Parker’s Incus label. Wheeler had already played free music with drummer John Stevens and was soon to begin an association with experimenters like American reedist Anthony Braxton and the German-based Globe Unity Orchestra. But except for a couple of tracks, the pieces he wrote for this date mostly meld his big band past with his moody, reflective streak.

That low-spirited attitude was artistically best reflected in the trio Azimuth he founded later in the 1970s with pianist John Taylor and vocalist Norma Winstone. SONG FOR SOMEONE’s present-day fascination comes from how Wheeler, who said “the musicians came first and then the music”, mixed explorers and mainstreamers without fissure. On one hand are free musicians like Bailey and Parker, percussionist Tony Oxley, trombonist Malcolm Griffin and saxist Mike Osborne. On the other are modern mainstreamers like Taylor, Winstone and a brass section that could have played similar licks on tunes Wheeler arranged for John Dankworth’s or Maynard Ferguson’s big bands.

To be honest, only one tune, the 15¼-minute “The Good Doctor” can be termed Free Jazz, and it’s also the only one where Griffin, Parker and Bailey all make an appearance. Parker also takes a characteristic solo filled with multiphonic trills on “Causes are Events”, though. But with that theme shaped more by Taylor’s springy, light-fingered electric piano fills and Winstone’s airy soprano -- not to mention horn riffs that could have been safely played by Toronto’s Boss Brass -- Parker’s reed interjections would have been linked to 1960s psychedelic freak outs by most in 1973.

“The Good Doctor” is the real -- free -- thing, however, and begins with a couple of minutes of squealing circular breathing from Parker and flat-picking from Bailey. Although Wheeler’s almost heraldic solo and the flattened cymbal work that introduce supple brass lines sashaying from one side to the other are pretty standard, soon one trombonist -- Griffith? -- breaks through. He double tongues while Taylor double times, and the trumpets riff out a chromatic counter theme. Exposing a big band vamp in full roar, the other bandmen then give space to hearty sax solo -- from Osborne perhaps -- that introduces intense, Booker Ervin-style honks, growls and squeals as Oxley knocks out powerful Elvin Jones-like rumbles and bounces. By the time the tune ends with a protracted, high-pitched brass crescendo, Wheeler has proven that he can write a composition that swings as much as it seeks.

Mostly characterized by brassy trills and chromatic leaps, a walking bass line and emblematic 1970s tinny electric piano work, the other large ensemble work is more closely allied to Dankworth (John) than Dixon (Bill). Someone does take a well-paced slurry trombone solo, and another trumpeter -- Wheeler himself? -- produces some bent. squealing notes on “Toot-Toot”. But that tune’s resemblance to John Coltrane’s “Cousin Mary” and the ballad that follows it makes clear that the majority of material could have been played by any well-constituted large group of the time.

Finally, Winstone’s lyrical soprano and light scatting and humming on “Nothing Changes” -- an unfortunate title for a date like this -- suggests Cleo Laine’s show biz-oriented singing with Dankworth’s band.

Most interesting historically, especially for proof of how creative Parker and Wheeler were at that juncture, SONG FOR SOMEONE is a valuable addition to Wheeler’s slim discography. But, especially in comparison to other Wheeler dates of that era, it shouldn’t be inflated to be more than it was mean to be -- a showcase for self-expression among friends.

--Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Toot-Toot 2. Ballad Two 3. Song for Someone 4. Causes are Events+ 5. The Good Doctor+* 6. Nothing Changes.

Personnel: Kenny Wheeler (trumpet and flugelhorn); Ian Hammer, Greg Bowen, Dave Hancock (trumpets); Keith Christie, Bobby Lamb, Chris Pyne, David Horler (trombones); Jim Wilson or Malcom Griffiths* (bass trombone); Alfie Reece (tuba); Mike Osborne (alto saxophone); Duncan Lamont, (tenor saxophone and flute); Evan Parker+ (tenor and soprano saxophones); Alan Branscombe (piano or electric piano); John Taylor: (electric piano); Derek Bailey* (guitar); Ron Mathewson: (bass); Tony Oxley (percussion); Norma Winstone (vocals)

April 26, 2004

GIANLUIGI TROVESI OTTETTO

Fugace
ECM 1827

GLOBE UNITY ORCHESTRA
Globe Unity 2002
Intakt CD 086

One potential horror comedians are always joking about is a world where the transportation schedules would be set by the Italians and the restaurants run by the British and Germans.

As humorous as this may sound as a situation, these CDs by mid-sized (eight- and nine-piece) bands shows that remarkable sounds can still result if countrymen act antithetically to their clichéd national characteristics.

FUGACE finds eight legendarily anarchistic Italians settling down for 16 short, arranged improvisations that touch on a variety of genres. Conversely, GLOBE UNITY 2002 features nine supposedly restrained Britons and Germans creating almost 74 minutes of some of the most cacophonous hullabaloo since John Coltrane and 10 other improvisers recorded ASCENSION in 1965.

As a matter of fact, Globe Unity, (the band) has always been in the tradition of all-out passionate expression that characterized 1960s aggregations like the Jazz Composers Orchestra, with the added fillip of being international. Over the years since the band’s first LP in 1966, membership has swollen to a high of 19, with American, Italian, Dutch and Polish musicians included, until it officially disbanded in 1986.

This one-time, live concert reunion 15 years later finds most of the longtime Globers on hand and confirms that the spirit and excitement the band engendered in its lifetime still exists. As well, 30 years on, a serene quantity has crept into some of the playing.

Leader Alexander von Schlippenbach, for instance, may begin the proceedings with intense, emotional, Romantic arpeggios, but during the course of the one long piece here he’ll relax into almost conventional jazz club comping and fills. Then when it comes time for his extended solo, his playing seems more bop-like and connected than the style of his first influence, Thelonious Monk. He uses careful voicing and portamento to glide across the keyboard. Building up tension in the Free Jazz sense with serpentine chords and echoing vibrations, his swiftness can resemble that of a player piano. Yet his unaccompanied coda is near pastoral, well modulated and definitely two-handed.

Trumpeter and, flugelhornist Manfred Schoof, who started off as a German version of a so-called Progressive jazzman, reverts to form in his solo spots. At one point he reveals long-lined patterned and focused grace notes that evolve to note-perfect brassy triplets, at another builds up mellow flugelhorn filigree, which when combined with the backing orchestral figures recall MILES AHEAD.

Others have intensified the way they first played 30 years ago. Evan Parker offers a five-minute plus exhibition of louder and softer circular breathing from his soprano sax, that appears to have an unmistakable bagpipe echo. Meantime fellow Briton, trombonist Paul Rutherford, growls and mumbles and rants within his trombone bell, with his snorts and Bronx cheers finally calling forth dampening metallic rim shot action and cymbal crashes from the dual percussionists. His direct musical descendent, German trombonist Johannes Bauer, also exhibits some double-tongued slurs backed with only piano accompaniment.

Dissonance, in all its ear-wrenching glory still inhabits the playing of the two remaining horn men though: Ernst-Ludwig Petrowsky on alto saxophone, clarinet and flute and Peter Brötzmann on tenor saxophone, tarogato and clarinet. One reedist -- though likely not Parker -- ejaculates some split-tone altissimo squeaks near the beginning of the extended piece, the likes of which haven’t been heard since the heyday of Giuseppi Logan. Much later, peeping tarogato timbres meet up with woody bass clarinet tones, arching from dog-whistle to bird trilling territory.

Then there’s a point just past midway where the “Ascension”-style total band hubbub slackens to expose a protracted series of screeches and multiphonic blasts from the tenormen. The yells and applause from the audience makes it appear that for it, this was the highpoint equivalent of Paul Gonsalves’ protracted solo on Duke Ellington’s “Diminuendo and Crescendo in Blues” at the 1956 Newport Jazz Festival.

As all this is going on, the proper tempo for clangorous explosions and feather light interludes is provided by the Pauline duo on percussion -- England’s Paul Lytton and Germany’s Paul Lovens.

Trovesi’s Ottetto features two drummers as well, but that’s about the only symmetry between the two sessions. Old enough -- he was born in 1944 near Bergamo -- to be part of the Globe Unity generation, multi-reedist Trovesi mixed his jazz with studio work earlier in his career. Part of the first generation of Southern European musicians to assert themselves internationally, Trovesi is known for his folklore-tinged work with trumpeter Pino Minafra, and membership in the all-star Italian Instabile Orchestra, which also includes ex-Globe Unity trumpeter Enrico Rava.

Like his other octet sessions though, FUGACE resides in a space of its own, where traditional Italian operatic drama coexists with improvisation, and where the references include veteran local comic Totò as well as Louis Armstrong. Thus on the three-part “Totò nei Caraibi”, as the pizzicato plucking of the three string players suggests a cartoon cat sneaking across the horizon, other sounds form the band reference a funeral march and echo calypsos.

In the same way, “Ramble” begins with a note-perfect Dixieland emulation with the drummers exercising their kits with ratamacues and a clip-clop rhythm like duple Baby Dodds, as Trovesi on clarinet makes like Baby’s older brother -- and Armstrong associate -- Johnny. But trumpeter Massimo Greco reaches for augmented notes too modern for Satchmo, the clarinet is soon trilling in a modernistic folk style reminiscent of Jimmy Giuffre, and you’d never hear Marco Remondini’s arco cello slices anywhere in Trad Jazz. Blasts from trombonist Beppe Caruso, who leads his own fine brass band, form a countermelody that doubles and triples the tempo until the end.

In contrast to the Globe Unity veterans, the reedist’s is a younger band, made up in the main of musicians who have played with him for about a decade. With Remondini and percussionist Fluvio Maras adding electronics to the mix the Trovesi Eight proffers some unique textures, including a series of linking interludes that sound as if they were created on an electrified harpsichord that snuck in from a Yardbirds session. Thus while Trovesi may sometimes echo Benny Goodman and the unison string section get a bit overwrought in the 1,001 strings tradition, plenty of other slants arise as well.

“Blues and West” for instance, starts off with enough reverb from the electronica and electric bass slaps plus monochromic drumming to make it sound like a rock band has invaded the studio. In between riffing horns, Trovesi on alto creates some cosmic bop-inflected squeals and Greco plays a soaring, slurred trumpet line. “Canto di lavoro” goes in the opposite direction. It starts off with an Armstrong-like trumpet cadenza, introduces chalumeau clarinet trills and finishes with a sound that ping-pongs from outer-space whistles from the electronics, and someone, somehow -- perhaps the top strings of the electric bass -- producing a quivering Jimi Hendrix-like electric guitar distortion.

Massed horn riffs often appear to be half banda and half James Brown’s horn section, Trovesi’s split tone can often take on a distinctive Arabic inflection and the dual backbeat, if from hand drums, can be as much Savannah as Sardinia.

Improvised music has become such an all-encompassing category that a group can perform in a variety of ways to produce outstanding music, despite national clichés. Globe Unity and the Ottetto demonstrate two excellent versions of these methods.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Fugace: 1. As strange as a ballad 2. Sogno d’Orfeo African Triptych: 3. Wide Lake 4. Scarlet Dunes 5. Western Dream 6. Canto di lavoro 7. Clumsy dancing of the fat bird 8. Siparietto I 9. Blues and West 10. Siparietto II 11. Il Domatore 12. Ramble 13. Siparietto III 14. Fugace 15. Siparietto IV 16. Totò nei Caraibi

Personnel: Fugace: Massimo Greco (trumpet, electronics); Beppe Caruso (trombone); Gianluigi Trovesi (alto saxophone, piccolo, alto clarinets); Marco Remondini (cello, electronic); Roberto Bonati (bass); Marco Micheli (bass, electric bass); Fluvio Maras (percussion, electronics); Vittorio Marinoni (drums)

Track Listing: Globe: 1. Globe Unity 2002

Personnel: Globe: Manfred Schoof (trumpet, flugelhorn); Paul Rutherford and Johannes Bauer (trombones); Ernst-Ludwig Petrowsky (alto saxophone, clarinet, flute); Peter Brötzmann (tenor saxophone, tarogato, clarinet); Evan Parker (soprano and tenor saxophones); Alexander von Schlippenbach (piano); Paul Lovens and Paul Lytton (drums)

December 1, 2003

KEN VANDERMARK

Furniture Music
Okka Disk OD 12046

ALESSANDRO BOSETTI/GREGOR HOTZ/KAI FAGASCHINKSI/RUDI MAHALL
Berlin Reeds
Absinth Records 001

EVAN PARKER/GEORGE HASLAM /JOHN EDWARDS
Parker - Haslam - Edwards
SLAM CD314

BERTRAND DENZLER/HANS KOCH
Asymétries
Ambiance Magnétiques AM 112 CD

Woodwind players galore in solo or duo settings are featured on these CDs, which not only replicate the stratagems reedists evolve to cope with such concentrated playing, but confirm the divisions between Continental and Anglo-Saxon interpreters.

On show are seven reed blowers: one American, one Italian, two Britons, two Germans and three Swiss. The horns used include almost all the members of the saxophone family: soprano, alto, tenor baritone and bass; plus clarinet, bass clarinet and Hungarian tarogato. Oh, and on two tracks, a British bassist makes an appearance.

Taken together, the results seem to show that the English speakers, no matter how experimental, are still trying for a consistent musical statement, while the continental Europeans are moving into the realm of pure sound.

You can’t chalk this difference up to age either. Chicago’s Ken Vandermark, whose almost-66½ minute, 18-track solo session using four different horns is the most audacious disc, is around the same age as a couple of the players on BERLIN REEDS and younger than the others on that CD and ASYMÉTRIES, whose playing is ostensibly further-out than his. Moreover British saxophonist Evan Parker, whose solo experiments began around the time some of the junior woodwind players here had their lips on a pacifier, rather than a reed, creates one of the most concordant extended solos of all.

FURNITURE MUSIC is the first solo CD from Vandermark, who has already successfully forged a group identity with his own bands, and been praised for his contributions in groups ranging from Peter Brötzmann’s Chicago Tenet to duos with saxmen such as Joe McPhee and Mars Williams. Here he solos on clarinet, bass clarinet, tenor saxophone and baritone saxophone, and that may be part of the difficulty. Very few musicians are inventive on four different horns, and exposing himself alone magnifies Vandermark’s shortcomings on each. Even someone like Sonny Stitt, who was an exceptional blower on alto, tenor and baritone saxophone never attempted solo work on any of his axes.

On tenor, his most familiar horn, Vandermark has his elliptical sounds down pat, but seems to do little more than chirp altissimo multiphonics and push out swollen notes in pedal point from deep within his horn’s body. Even his version of the country blues is cut off before it reaches critical mass.

He’s a bit better off on clarinet and bass clarinet, the other reeds that have been in his arsenal for a while. On clarinet, his most impressive moments come on “Melodica” and “Leaves”. The former, dedicated to McPhee, finds him reverberating whole notes in the unruffled contralto register. Melodic enough, it could probably celebrate the other reedist more appropriately, though, if the resulting sound was faster and livelier.

The later tune, honoring filmmaker Michelangelo Antonioni, claims to be crosscutting images and sounds from two of the Italian director’s films. Here nose breaths, chirping split tones, tongue pressure and the hiss of colored air are what Vandermark hears as approximations of cinematic techniques. Yet rather than reflecting Antonioni’s hyper realism, the end result is more like that of a Hollywood-oriented American Indie flick, at least when compared to the outright radical aural cinema of Kai Fagaschinski on the BERLIN REEDS set.

Reverberations within the body tube and tongue slapping percussion characterize Vandermark’s work on bass clarinet. On “Indeterminate Action”, for instance -- tellingly dedicated to composer John Cage -- he appears to be applying any extended techniques he may have neglected on other tracks, including altissimo screeches, semi-snorts, irregular vibratos, internal growls in false registers and propelled ghost notes.

His most impressive achievement -- coincidentally the longest track on the CD -- is “Color Fields to Darkness”. Here he manages to produce a ghostly doppelgänger reedist, with one producing strident squeals and the other a foghorn tone that deepens and elongates as he plays. All this is followed by tongue slaps and twittering vibratos.

These two pieces are more exploratory than the first two tracks on BERLIN REEDS by Rudi Mahall. The Nürnberg, Germany-born bass clarinetist, who has worked with musicians such as trumpeter Axel Dörner and pianist Aki Takase, performs what could be termed standard EuroImprov on these tracks dedicated to his guinea pig [!]. Unruffled and legato, the first piece is mostly concerned with circular trills and bass echoes, not expanding until the very end into freak high-pitched squeaks, reed buzzes and a few microscopically examined wild-boar snorts. With echoing tone and reverberating bass tones the second is more of the same.

Back in Chicago, Vandermark seems most comfortable with the baritone, his newest horn. On the bouncy “Lines”, it’s almost as if he’s one-quarter of the Four Brothers, creating a chugging, foot-tapping melodic sound, almost like 1950s Jimmy Giuffre. Other tunes show off arching split tones, glissandos that give him sympathetic echoes within horn’s body tube and phrases held so long that they break apart into reed tweets and low-pitched tongue slaps. Built around unvarying lower level multiphonics, “(brüllt)”, again manages to push more than one timbre from his bell, and these join and split apart amoebae-like before turning to unrelentless honks.

He’s honorable in his efforts. But by dedicating all his improvisation, Vandermark has set himself up for sometimes unflattering comparisons to other woodwind players. Furthermore, by packing 18 tunes into 73 minutes, he may have bitten off more than he can chew, which can be quite painful with a reed instrument.

The Chicagoan’s shortcomings are put into bolder relief when compared to the solo and duo creations of Britons Parker on soprano and tenor saxophones and George Haslam on baritone saxophone and tarogato -- a sort of Hungarian wooden soprano saxophone -- on PARKER-EDWARDS-HASLAM. Bassist John Edwards is the odd man out here.

Largely self-taught, Haslam has worked extensively in Eastern Europe and South America and in many different types of music. He brings a melodious tinge to his solo playing. On baritone his dynamic sense is paramount with the lines mostly smooth and legato. Coming across like a hipper Gerry Mulligan, his rhythm always swings on an even keel. Of course, Mulligan may have been shocked by Haslam’s sometimes irregular vibrato, rhythmic tongue slaps and an ending which moves up from traditional baritone bottom-feeding tones to a bit of overblowing, side slipping and split tones.

Uniquely Magyar, the tarogato has an elastic tone that seems to add a resonant buzz to every note played, More experimental with it than his larger horn, Haslam applies spetrofluctuation, circular breathing and double timing to shake loose new avenues for his improvisations.

Wooden soprano and Vandermark’s clarinet output has to bow to the solo methodology developed and perfected by Parker and exhibited on the CD, however. Here overblowing and circular breathing allow him to slur out two very different tones, one in mid-range and the other high-pitched. Soon, with glissandos, he’s producing continuous squeak and sympathetic overtones, then smearing out a bagpipe-style irregular vibratos with high-pitched chirps on top. Like a conveyer belt of notes, he plays on and on, appearing to be triple tonguing so that there are echoing vibrations for every previous echoing vibration, and ending with a coda of one long smeared tone. At more than three times the length of any Vandermark track, his solo is also more synchronous, pointed and in context, easily related to the ongoing improv tradition.

Those who wonder where reed exploration can go post-Parker, are directed to BERLIN REEDS, made up of four, 3-inch CDs packaged in an oversized cardboard sleeve. In terms of higher-pitched woodwinds, Italian Alessandro Bosetti on soprano saxophone and feedback and German clarinetist Fagaschinski may have definite answers to that question.

Bosetti, 30, who has worked with fellow soprano saxophone excavators like France’s Michel Doneda and Boston’s Bhob Rainey, and been part of the band Phosphor with aural explorers like trumpeter Dörner and inside piano specialist Andrea Neumann, states that he’s “developed an instrumental language that incorporates extended techniques, noises, and a strong influence from electronic music”. There are times on his more than 18-minute solo track here, in fact, that the electro-acoustic suggestions seem to involve more than feedback.

Beginning with the rotating injection of pure air moving through the horn’s body tube, skids and stops then imply electronic static. Almost continuous, his tone soon gets noticeably thinner and more diffuse, taking on the oscillation of an electric guitar. With lips formed into a Bronx cheer and watery spit tones predominating, his metallic timbre almost reaches dog whistle territory. Interrupted only for the odd breath, you can hear undulating wind sounds and the clinks of keys being depressed. Soon even these give way to reed hisses, reed kisses and growling breaths amplified by key manipulation. It’s a performance that sounds more like more sibilant larynx than sax licks.

Fagaschinski, 29, a German clarinetist who has also played with Dörner and in a duo with computer manipulator Christof Kurzmann, is as radical in his presentation as his politics. On “I’m afraid of Americans too”, he’s the most reductionist of any of the extant soloists, and ironically, one whose work is reminiscent of American Rainey’s. He’s also someone who will send you scrambling for your headphones, since his almost 15½-minute solo alternates up-to-60-second pauses with tiny breaths and tongue noises plus echoing whistles. Most of the time he appears to be wheezing colored air through the instrument’s body, with even that oxygen sometimes dissolving into stillness. Fascinating in his audacity, in comparison, it’s as if he and Vandermark are playing two completely different woodwinds, rather than the same instrument.

Almost the same thing could be said about “Weggebracht!”, bass clarinetist Mahall’s final solo piece. Firmly placing himself in the ranks of Teutonic body tube travelers he screeches out extended, mountain-top high, resonating tones that then liquefy into singular, tart note spits and gritty, reed-biting double tones. All this takes place in the altissimo range and ends with a final high-pitched honk.

Zürich-born, Berlin-resident Gregor Hotz is an organizer in that city’s music scene as well as a bass saxophonist. Someone who has also played with Dörner, Mahall, Neumann and fellow Swiss reedist Hans Koch, his sax sound on “Friendly Fire” is as far removed from the mainstream and semi-mainstream conceptions of Vandermark and Haslam as their sax conception is from the 1920s and 1930s work of jazz’s first -- and for a time only -- bass saxophonist, Adrian Rollini.

Offering up a chamber music recital of prolonged exhalation, Hotz’s strategy is to start from a certain point and suspire until no more air can be expelled. He keeps repeating that trope as his vibrato gets more intense. Inserting respiratory pauses of up to 60 seconds, at times he sounds out deep-sea tones that resemble tuba blats. Avoiding that traditional low tone most of the time, though, he also bests the Anglo Saxons by frequently creating echoing, dissonant timbres and multi-tones. Coda is a heavy, snorting vibrato of few notes that transforms the sax into a percussive drone machine.

Doubling the pleasure and fun, ASYMÉTRIES joins tenor saxophonist and bass clarinetist Koch with Swiss countryman Bertrand Denzler on tenor saxophone for a four track, less-than-38-minute, reed recital. Koch who is best known for his ongoing trio with cellist Martin Schütz and drummer Fredy Studer, and Denzler, who is part of the otherwise all-French HUBBUB band, have been working as a duo since 1999.

EuroImprovisers par excellence, between their squeaks, whistles, warbles, small animal peeps, flattement, reed-biting, rumbles, irregular vibrations and Bronx cheer approximations, the two are often able to create three -- or more -- distinct sounds from only two horns.

Most descriptive of their talents, the almost 17-minute first track finds them off-handedly -- or perhaps just using the thumb rest -- showcasing reed prestidigitation without Anglo-Saxon braggadocio. Building on percussive key pops, understated tongue slaps and shakes, they create sounds that aurally mirror ghostly wind whistles, radio signals, the shuffling of cards and oscillating sine waves. Individual instrument identification is put aside, although among the tiny nursing piglet squeals, it seems that one man is expelling a watery underlying tone, while the other builds up multiple breaths that reconstitute themselves into percussion-like licks. Only on a couple of other tracks can you distinguish the woody tone of the bass clarinet, its identity is more subsumed than in Mahall’s or Vandermark’s improvisations.

Elsewhere, bassist John Edwards, who has also duetted with reedists like Paul Dunmall and John Butcher, is on hand to second Haslam on baritone and Parker on both soprano and tenor on their sax face off on the Slam disc. Unlike the Swiss, the Englishmen limit themselves to straight staccato lines with irregular vibrations, tossing phrases and notes back-and-forth. Chirping, Parker flaunts his circular breathing as Haslam’s baritone pedal point provides the undercurrent. At the same time the soprano saxist makes sure that he relates as much to Edwards’ string tugging as the baritone’s gritty slurs. Later on, the baritonist slides out some idiosyncratic constructions and Parker providing the pepping ostinato that reflects them. With Edwards’ bass bottom suggesting a third saxophone, the two real reedists turn to flutter tonguing and slurs, with Haslam more ornamental in his exhalation. Finally the two confront one another for a robust miasma of pliant reed timbres, circling around and uniting for a medley of honks, in congruent but contrasted high pitches. Unlike Koch and Denzler there’s never any doubt as to which sax is playing or who is playing it.

Every one of these sessions is valuable for reed fanciers, although some experiments are more accomplished than others. The duos confirm their talents, the Berlin collection highlights new reed researchers and Vandermark once he learns to edit himself, shows on his first effort that he can probably soon expose more elevated solo work.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Furniture: 1. Resistance [for Evan Parker]* 2. Horizontal Weight [for Peter Brötzmann]# 3. So Is This [for Michael Snow]+ 4. Lines [for Lennie Tristano]& 5. Immediate Action [for Jackson Pollock]& 6. Panels [for Piet Mondrian and Erik Satie]*7. Color Fields to Darkness [for Mark Rothko]+ 8. Would a Proud Man Rather Break Than Bend [for Mississippi Fred MacDowell]& 9. Beck and Fall [for Samuel Beckett and Morton Feldman]# 10. Melodica [for Joe McPhee]*11. Indeterminate Action [for John Cage]+ 12. Leaves [for Michelangelo Antonioni]*13. (brüllt) after Jaap Blonk # Live: 14. Panels [live]15. Immediate Action [live]16. Horizontal Weight [live]17. Color Fields to Darkness [live]18. Would a Proud Man Rather Break Than Bend [live]

Personnel: Furniture: Ken Vandermark (clarinet*, bass clarinet+, tenor saxophone&, baritone saxophone#)

Track Listing: Berlin: CD 1: 1. Unplayed saxophone CD 2: 1. Friendly fire CD 3: 1. I’m afraid of Americans too 2. No body can leave its skin CD 4: 1. Mein meerschweinchen kann das nicht 2. Mein meerschweinchen will das nicht 3. Weggebracht!

Personnel: Berlin: CD 1: Alessandro Bosetti (soprano saxophone, feedback); CD 2: Gregor Hotz (bass saxophone); CD 3: Kai Fagaschinski (clarinet); CD 4: Rudi Mahall (bass clarinet)

Track Listing: Parker: 1. Solo for baritone saxophone 2. Solo for tarogato 3. Solo for soprano saxophone 4. Solo for double bass 5. Duet for saxophone and bass 6. Trio for two saxophones and bass

Personnel: Parker: Evan Parker (soprano and tenor saxophones); George Haslam (baritone saxophone, tarogato); John Edwards (bass)

Track Listing: Asymétries: 1. Asymétries 1 2. Asymétries 2 3. Asymétries 3 4. Asymétries 4

Personnel: Asymétries: Bertrand Denzler (tenor saxophone); Hans Koch (soprano saxophone, bass clarinet)

October 20, 2003

PETER BRÖTZMANN

More Nipples
Atavistic Unheard Music Series UMS/ALP236CD

Prime cuts of Peter Brötzmann and company at his most ferocious, the 40 minutes of music on this CD were literally forgotten until 2002 when FMP founder Jost Gebers discovered this cache of unreleased tapes in his archives.

Living up to the series title, the three tracks were recorded at the same 1969 session that produced NIPPLES (Atavistic/Unheard Music Series UMS/ALP 205 CD), one of the German saxophonist’s most distinctive early sessions, that itself was out-of-print for years until reissued in 2000. Unlike that disc, British saxophonist Evan Parker and guitarist Derek Bailey are only featured on the title track. The other two highlight the reedist’s quartet of the time, completed by Flemish pianist Fred Van Hove, the late German bassist Buschi Niebergall and Holland’s Han Bennink on drums and percussion.

Among the likely reasons that these tracks weren’t released at the time of recording is that in contrast to the original LP, the more than 17-minute tune with the two Englishmen sounds closer to certified, restrained BritImprov than the expected balls-to-the-walls Continental variety.

The top of the piece initially features rapid runs or laid back arco work from the bassist, rubato piano cadenzas, irresolute plinks and clinks from the guitarist and drumming that’s more shake and rattle than anything you would imagine from Bennink today. Van Hove’s flashing octave jumping and right-handed tremolo lines appear to share lead duties with Bailey’s flat-picking, with the others almost struggling to keep up. Only when the saxmen shows up does Niebergall assert himself with a buzzing output that takes on jagged, top-of-scale, violin-like qualities. Then Bennink, who could be making music with a collection of pots and pans -- so brassy is his sound -- starts to clatter away at greater volume, while Bailey retreats. Using Van Hove’s high-intensity arpeggios ranging over the keyboard as backing, Brötz and Parker make like an avant-garde Griff & Jaws produced an onslaught of curved split tones. Characteristic wild gouts of overblown notes tumble from the German’s horn, and, surprisingly, he’s answered in kind by the Briton. Before an oscillating bass line and simple piano end the proceedings, Brötzmann has asserted himself with long nasal yowls from his horn

Using the same rattling, metallic percussion, Bennink also introduces timbres that could come from struck wood block and hand-spanked conga drums on the quartet tracks, recorded in another studio six days later. With his cymbals quivering like aluminum pie plates, the Dutchman’s playing starts to resemble what you hear from Third World junkeroo bands that find their percussion instruments in garbage heaps and trash cans. However the bassist is more energized, probably spending as much time resolutely hammering on the wood with his fists and rapidly striking the front of his strings with the bow as he does bowing and plucking. As for Brötzmann, on both tunes he works himself into an altissimo, artery-bursting fury, yanking multiphonics and irregular vibrations from his reed in a style that’s half bar walking R&B tenor sax and half intestinal shrieks. It gets so that any duck quacking overblowing he exhibits is overtaken by unaccompanied renal screams, that under pressure from the rhythm section’s rapid response move into a higher and more feral range.

You have to remember that this was a time when Albert Ayler was still alive and other tenor men like Pharoah Sanders, Charles Tyler, Frank Wright and Archie Shepp were playing at their most vehement. With Teutonic meticulousness Brötz seems to be going them one better.

Is this an essential disc then? Well, it’s different and certainly interesting, but only in spots offers more than expected. Still if you’re a follower of any of the men involved --and/or need another fix of unfettered Free Jazz preserved in its rawest form -- the CD will unquestionably excite you.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. More nipples* 2. Fiddle-faddle 3.Fat man walks

Personnel: Peter Brötzmann, tenor saxophone; Evan Parker (soprano saxophone)*; Derek Bailey (guitar)*; Fred Van Hove (piano); Buschi Niebergall (bass); Han Bennink (drums)

October 6, 2003

ALEXANDER VON SCHLIPPENBACH TRIO

Pakistani Pomade
Atavistic Unheard Music Series UMS/ALP240CD

Asked at one point in the mid-1980s to name his favorite trio disc, British saxophonist Evan Parker cited this 1972 session with Germans, pianist Alexander Von Schlippenbach and drummer Paul Lovens, initially recorded for FMP.

That’s not surprising. For at a time when most of the attention on the American jazz scene was focused on the few moments of pure improvisation that showed up in the earliest incarnations of fusion bands like Weather Report and Return to Forever, this disc shows Europeans expanding the improv tradition in their own way.

This reissue adds four additional tracks to the original LP, which, while bringing the time up to proper CD length, merely sound like studio sketches for the previously released compositions. The two eye-openers 30 years ago --and which remain so today -- are the title track and the 10-minute “Moonbeef”.

“Pakistani Pomade” (the composition), involves a high-intensity, cyclical piano part which finds Von Schlippenbach’s alternating his earlier, near-boppish Thelonious Monk-like style with swift Cecil Taylor-influenced feints and runs. Parker contributes bird-like chirps and split tones that turn to out-and-out croaking and squealing as the tune evolves, while Lovens concentrates on his cymbal work and a tambourine rattle.

Trilling long lines and squeals characterize Parker’s work on “Moonbeef”, but the renal squeaks, wiggling lines and rolling spit tones hadn’t yet consolidated into the characteristic circular breathing that define much of his playing today. Instead he seems more intent on eviscerating his horns from the inside, a quality also more related to the playing of his New Thing antecedents than he would exhibit today. The pianist on the other hand, still resembles a restrained CT, definitely two-handed, with one steamrolling over the keys as the other pounds out syncopated chords one after another. Lovens varies his attack as they go along, at one point creating half-tone rolls, elsewhere producing metallic clicks from his cymbals and other times sounding conga-drum rhythms. The last happens in the penultimate moments of the tune, when Von Schlippenbach constructs a fantasia of tremolos and glissandos, including what sounds like a foray onto the strings themselves.

At other times Parker outputs tiny squeaks from within his horn as well as creating accented split tones that almost sound like what fellow Brit reedist John Butcher plays today. Still in the experimental stage, his breathing exercises are of a shorter duration, higher pitched and with a much thinner tone than they now exhibit. He does display a few altissimo squeaks that sound like retching or infant cries, however. The overall effect is distinctive, but definitely retro in this context.

Lovens is perspicacious, sometimes extending 1960s stridency with the rub of abrasive material against drum kit parts, but more likely to make his point with the subtle ping of brushes against his cymbals.

As for the pianist, cadenzas and strumming piano chords are on show, often played allegro, so that the drummer must scramble to keep up with him. Yet, especially in the instructive previously unreleased tracks, his playing sounds more quote, traditional, unquote, than he probably wanted to exhibit in those proto-revolutionary times.

On the second-to-last and final pieces for instance, he’s involved with repetition and a high-intensity rubato attack featuring plenty of vibrating overtones. Here the Monk influence is particularly strong, with echoes of the American’s fondness for stride piano and blues changes creeping into his solo. A Charlie Rouse-style balladic aside from Parker and a bounce cadence from the drums really puts things into Monk-orbit. Perhaps it’s these jazz-styled sounds that convinced the players that this track and the three other newly discovered ones shouldn’t be released in 1972.

No matter, appended to the original PAKISANI POMADE, the four provide instructive fodder for musicologists and followers of any of the three musicians. And, as Parker himself indicated, on its own, the original disc remains a wholly satisfying landmark of free improv.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Sun-Luck Night Rain 2. Butaki Sisters 3. A Little Yellow (including Two seconds Monk) 4. Ein Husten für Karl Valentin 5. Pakistani Pomade 6. Von “G” Ab 403-418 7. Moonbeef 8. Kleine Nülle, Evergreen 9. Pakistani alternate #1 10. Pakistani alternate #2 11. Pakistani alternate #3 4. Pakistani alternate #4

Personnel: Evan Parker (soprano and tenor saxophones); Alexander Von Schlippenbach (piano); Paul Lovens (drums)

August 18, 2003

EVAN PARKER/JOE MCPHEE

Chicago Tenor Duets
OkkaDisk OD 12033

BARRY GUY-EVAN PARKER
Birds and Blades
Intakt Double CD 080

Two more aural essays on the subtle art of the duo, these CDs feature three improvisers who long ago proved that they can hold their own in musical situations involving any size of band.

Connection between the two discs comes from the presence of British saxophonist Evan Parker, who with his philosophical theories and technical mastery has been producing intelligent commentary on reed advancement since the mid-1960s. On BIRDS AND BLADES, A two-CD set recorded in Zürich in 2001, he’s partnered with longtime confrere bassist Barry Guy. Another cerebral experimenter, the bassist and the sax man have worked in contexts from big bands to duos for years, with their first duo meeting taking place in 1981.

On hand for CHICAGO TENOR DUETS, which (no surprise) was recorded in the Illinois city in 1998, with Parker featured exclusively on tenor sax -- he also plays soprano on the double disc -- is American Joe McPhee. Intellectual in a similar fashion to his Brit counterparts, the reedist recorded a trio -- all soprano saxophones -- session with Parker and French player Daunik Lazro in 1995. Over the years he has also had separate dual sax meetings with American Joe Giardullo, Lazro and another French highbrow, woodwind stylist André Jaume.

More than a rematch, CHICAGO TENOR is set up as an experiment to see what unique dialogue(s) can arise from using the lower-pitched woodwind, now that the two have investigated its higher-pitched sibling. The results will only upset those with an outmoded view of the so-called avant garde. There may be squeaks, squeals, multiphonics and a variety of extended techniques on show, but overall, the axe’s entrenched definition is amplified and only slightly redefined.

In this series of 11 duets, motifs including rolling tones, circular chases and unison smears are more prominent than endless circular breathing -- a Parker specialty. At times the two sound like one man -- Rahsaan Roland Kirk, perhaps -- playing two saxes simultaneously, at other times they elaborate the same line, creating octaves apart from one another.

Otherwise, Parker and McPhee are two reedmen soloing in the same place at the same time, but not playing together. There are points where what they do can be visually compared to an amoeba, with their sounds glancing off on another, then splitting apart within milliseconds. Harmonically, the reedists can twin one another, or singly create cavernous fog horn sounds, buzzing lines, hisses of pure air or harsh key-popping mouthpiece percussion.

All in all they seem to gain strength and confidence as the session proceeds almost chronologically, with “Duet 8” and “Duet 11” -- each just a little less than 11 minutes -- their most concentrated showcases. The former finds them spewing out double honks that blend into one whole tone, but played enough apart so you know two horns are involved. One then offers up twittering and trilling buoyant reed slides, while the other ripostes with squealing split reed tones and rolling tongue slaps. Staccato pinpoint notes soon meet key pops until the duo joins again for unison air hisses.

“Duet 11” finds both venturing into buoyant, so-called BritImprov territory with near inaudible sighs. These are succeeded by growling undertones and adagio buzzing acoustic drones, as accented notes cycle back and forth. The climax comes when Parker introduces circular breathing, with a basso countermotif from McPhee existing until they join together for a coda.

McPhee and Parker’s meeting also isn’t a sparring match, neither is the duo with Guy and Parker. Although the results on the one live and one studio session that make up BIRDS AND BLADES, usually whirl by at an speedier and more strident pace than what was created by the tenor tandem, this two-CD set is another heartfelt dialogue.

Peculiarly, the seven studio-recorded instant compositions are listed as being by Guy-Parker; in contrast the four live tracks that appear to have been created by Parker-Guy. Whether this is a musical version of political correctness or an indication of which player contributes the most to each group of tunes is uncertain. Surely the idea of a duo is that neither partner is paramount.

Moving from nomenclature to sounds, the live tracks run a minimum of slightly more than 14 minutes to more than 19 minutes. As Parker notes, the great length results from a fear of finding out the audience isn’t enjoying itself. Fat chance. Take “Circling” -- an appropriate description of just about everything played on all three CDs -- for instance.

A mixture of notated and improvised sections, like everything else the duo plays, it begins with Parker’s nearly patented circular breathing reconstructing itself as the sound of a flock of chirping feathered creatures, filling the sky with different melodies and tones. Squeals and strums then arise from Guy’s bass as he rubs, picks and forcefully pulls at the four strings. His constant arco motion melds with cheeping, flute-like reed wiggles from Parker, occasionally interrupted for quick dives into the bass clef.

Eventually, as the saxophonist continues to slipslide out of time, producing great gouts of notes, and as the bassman alternately plucks and bows a corresponding number of tones, you feel your head and solar plexus spinning as the two seem to be sucking all the oxygen out of the air. Just as it seems that you can’t accept any more soprano saxophone trills and near-the-pegs string bowing, the tempo abates to adagio, with the piece concluding with serene concert bass bowed lines.

Even on the seven studio compositions, the duo’s command of their respective instruments, and the resulting extended techniques are such that the absence of drums isn’t noted. Parker can produce quick, clean squeaks as readily as rolling purrs from his horns and Guy is as apt to create fingerpicking clawhammer banjo notes as abrasive, many-stringed bowed sounds.

As a matter of fact, on the title tune and longest track, the bass seems to morph into a chamber-filling mythical string quartet, though Guy’s delivery is speedier and more metallic than that mixture of violins, viola and cello would create. Meanwhile, the mid-range trilling sounds from Parker’s soprano sax describe a perfect Catherine Wheel of sound. Falling in and out of congruence, as the reedist’s conveyer belt of sounds appears, Guy breaks up the aural pattern with a series of tiny changes -- bowing deep into the bass clef, at one point, sneaking in quick, classical cello-like associations at others, and turning to mandolin-like flat picking elsewhere.

In this partnership of more than 20 years, each instrumentalist can improvise on his own, sometimes together, but often apart as the tune unravels. This relationship and the one with Parker and McPhee are probably the only non-exploitative examples of separate but equal that has existed since the time of Booker T. Washington.

Jointly and singularly, the improvisers featured on these three discs reconfirm that musical elasticity can be built into even as simple a structure as a duo.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Chicago: 1. Duet 2 2. Duet 3 3. Duet 4 4. Duet 5 5. Duet 6 6. Duet 7 7. Duet 9 8. Duet 8 9. Duet 11 10. Duet 12 11. Duet 13

Personnel: Chicago: Evan Parker and Joe McPhee (tenor saxophones)

Track Listing: Birds: CD 1: Studio 1. Alar 2. Swordplay 3. Cut and thrust 4. Froissement 5. Coulé 6. Barrage 7. Birds and blades CD 2: Live 1. Angulation 2. Circling 3. Point in line 4. Lunge

Personnel: Birds: Evan Parker (soprano and tenor saxophones); Barry Guy (bass)

June 23, 2003

PARKER/GUY/LYTTON

At Les Instants Chavirés
psi 02.06

TRI-DIM
2 of 2
SOFA 510

Two expressions from the language of romance and relationships may be appropriate when discussing the music on these two CDs which feature British bassist Barry Guy.

It’s said that after they live together for some time, a married couple starts to resemble one another. Expanding that thesis, you may note on the exemplary live disc recorded in Paris, that after more than two decades of working together Guy, saxophonist Evan Parker and percussionist Paul Lytton sometimes use strategies in their own improvisations that were initially developed by another member of the trio.

Another romantic maxim is that once soul mates meet for the first time, they find that they’re acting as if they have always been together. Stripping the sexual innuendo from that statement, it accurately describes Guy’s first time meeting with the Norwegian improvising trio Tri-Dim. Featured on two tracks on 2 OF 2, he fits the band’s groove to such an extent that it sounds as if he has always been part of it.

Recorded at the Paris club Les Instants Chavirés direct to DAT in late 1997 when the technique was still risky, the first CD includes one truncated track when the equipment capsized. Despite this, the session is probably as good as anything the three have recorded in the past.

Matrimonial-style resemblance is most apparent on the final track. Among the notes sprayed from Parker’s saxophone and the press rolls and cymbal slides Lytton produces, the bassist produces some stop-time strummed pizzicato work akin to the speedy squeals of circular breathing that Parker creates a few minutes before on “Three-legged chicken (for Vernon)”, the disc’s more than 38½-minute tour de force.

Additionally, that tune demonstrates the triptych-like interaction and connection of the trio. As attuned to one another’s strengths and techniques as members of the Modern Jazz Quartet or Budapest String Quartet were after their long tenure together, each one can make a movement that will call up the appropriate response from the other(s). That doesn’t mean, however, that there is usually one soloist and two accompanists, but rather three men following singular paths that happen to intersect at crucial junctures. Concentrate on pursuing the sound from any one of the three and you’ll hear something musically worthwhile on its own.

Enlivened with piglet-like squeals, phrases roll from Parker’s tenor saxophone, alternately allegro and andante, sometimes leading to his almost patented style of circular breathing, elsewhere vibrating with simple chirps. Mewling, he produces an augmented echo at spots, and creates enough tongue slaps and key pops to appear to be duetting with himself. Abstraction for its own sake isn’t any part of this, though. At times he puts aside triple tonguing and split tones to refract a series of tiny whole notes that are almost mainstream, in the non-neo-con sense of course. On other tracks, some of his sharper notes could replicate Sonny Rollins’ 1950s style.

Occupied as a squirrel in autumn, the percussionist’s version of circular breathing involves working, sounding, testing and manipulating many parts of his extended kit. Parker’s harsh overblowing is mated with bass drum pedal rattles, while Guy’s ascending and descending string squeaks are commented upon with a mallet-driven ping from the ride cymbal. Lytton may use flams and rolls, but he’s as apt to produce a bell-like sound from his so-called little instruments if that’s more generic to the sound field.

Guy not only expresses himself pizzicato -- sometimes sounding like a guitar -- and arco, but it sounds as if he’s vibrating one or several sticks placed horizontally and strategically between the strings. To mix metaphors -- or suggest perhaps incompatible vocations -- he’s both sculptor and a laborer in concrete, fabricating the mixture that solidifies the bottom of the piece, while leaping up into mid register and higher to sculpt figurines that complement Parker and Lytton’s creations.

Brimming with the instantly identifiable Parker/Guy/Lytton sound -- as are the other tracks -- “Three-legged chicken …” suspends time to such an extent that nearly 39 minutes appears to pass like five.

Another fleet, but lengthy piece, at more than 27½-minutes, is one of two tracks on the other CD on which Guy joins Tri-Dim; the other follows immediately afterwards. Untitled like all the other numbers on 2 OF 2, it finds Guy subsumed within the band to such an extent that he’s almost invisible. Recorded at the Molde Jazz Festival in 2001, there’s certainly no feeling about the performance that a so-called improv star is sitting in with a local combo.

Then again the Scandinavians have the potential to eventually be compared to Parker/Guy/Lytton sometime in the future. Actually Swedish, guitar David Stackenäs has also worked in some of Swedish reedist Mats Gustafsson’s larger projects and recorded with American woodwind player Ken Vandermark. As for the Norwegians, both saxophonist Håkon Kornstad and percussionist Ingar Zach are part of No Spaghetti Edition, a shifting group of improvisers. Kornstad has recorded mainstream and experimental discs under his own name, while Zach has also recorded with British guitarist Derek Bailey.

As a matter of fact, it’s the percussionist’s on the mark, gong-like cymbal tones here and elsewhere that give many of the instant compositions their shape(s). As effortlessly industrious as Lytton is on the other CD, Zach always seems to be hitting some part of his kit, producing a shuffle rhythm with his toms, vibrating varied tones from his drum tops or somehow making sounds that could come from an alarm clock.

Guy is most prominent at the beginning of the tune, where his high-string arco work -- perhaps due to his long association with Maya Homburger -- sounds as if it was coming from a violin. Other times he seems to be pulling notes from the very top of the string set about where the strings meet the tuning pegs. Stackenäs makes his point with flat picking, while Kornstad comes out with some growling split reed work and key pops plus producing a rhythmic percussive tone.

Soon the four break into double duos -- the two string players make up one; the saxophonist and drummer the other. Considering the unconventional technique both exhibit, the listener can be excused for not being able to ascribe certain tones to either the guitar or bass -- six or four steel strings vibrate in close proximity. Squeaking up his strings, Guy squeezes out some distinctive tones with his fingers, while Stackenäs --alternately tormenting and caressing his axe -- scratches out disjointed melodies on his frets and bridge as well the strings. The other duo involves the saxman flutter tonguing or spewing out line after line of high frequency tones. When Kornstad slipslides into another key, turning his arpeggios into cadenzas, Zach firmly, but almost tenderly pops shimmers from his small cymbals and jounces quivers from his drum heads.

An extension of all this, the final selection is quieter, featuring flailing guitar chords meeting an unvarying bass line. Meanwhile, a Nordic style flute sound gradually gets loud enough to mix with Zach’s reverberating drum skin motions or vibes-like tones.

On their own, on the first track, recorded a year later at Oslo’s Blå, the trio of Scandinavians show they’re perfectly capable of creating nearly 19 minutes of impressive excitement on their own. Kornstad moves to the front, squalling out Parker-derived ghostly tongue slaps, spits and rolling trills with an irregular vibrato. Stackenäs weighs in with asymmetric, single note flat picking, while Zach introduces what seems to be sepulchral tones from unselected cymbals, on their own or placed on top of the ride variety; triangle pings and rhythm produced by drum sticks alone plus odd, unconnected drum patterns. Finally buzzing reed cadenzas dissolve into white noise.

2 OF 2’s one misstep involves the remaining track, remixed by Jim O’Rourke of avant-rock band Sonic Youth. A few seconds of crashing guitar chords soon vanish into many minutes of extended Cagean silence. Eventually droning guitar and sax sound are audible, meshed with an otherworldly melisma of reverberating electronics and what appears to be the rumble of a backwards running tape. Purportedly O’Rourke remixed using some of Tri-Dim’s unreleased material, but the result appears to be more about his skills than the band’s. Maybe it would sound better on another CD with similar data.

Reprogram your CD player to miss this track if you wish, the rest will give you an unmatched glimpse into modern Scandinavian improvisations played by musicians who will likely be the pacesetters of this century.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Chavirés: 1. Montreuil motion 2. Asp irate 3. Three-legged chicken (for Vernon) 4. In which the moment capsizes 5. Jean-Marc rights the boat

Personnel: Chavirés: Evan Parker (soprano and tenor saxophones); Barry Guy (bass); Paul Lytton (percussion)

Track Listing: Tri- Dim: 1. 18.42 2. 12.39+ 3. 27.34* 4. 8.27*

Personnel: Tri-Dim: Håkon Kornstad (soprano and tenor saxophones, flute): David Stackenäs (guitar); Barry Guy (bass)*; Ingar Zach (percussion); Jim O’Rourke (remix)+

March 3, 2003

MANFRED SCHOOF

European Echoes
Atavistic Unheard Music UMS/ALP 232CD

ALEXANDER VON SCHLIPPENBACH
The Living Music
Atavistic Unheard Music UMS/ALP 231CD

Multi-reedman Peter Brötzmann always insists that when pianist Alexander von Schlippenbach and trumpeter Manfred Schoof first heard his pioneering free jazz band in the mid-1960s “they just laughed their asses off. At that time they played the Horace Silver-style thing”. But, by the end of the decade as Brötzmann widened his circle to include other experimenters like Dutch drummer Han Bennink and worked with American jazzers like trumpeter Don Cherry and soprano saxophonist Steve Lacy, his fellow Germans began to come around as well.

They began to come around to such an extent that by 1969 Schlippenbach and Schoof were recording the outside session showcased on these discs, both of which featured international casts, definitely including Brötzmann and Bennink. Since that time the pianist has maintained his free jazz affiliation, most notably in a long-running trio with British saxophonist Evan Parker, who is also on EUROPEAN ECHOES. The trumpeter, on the other hand, sticks more to a mainstream style, when he isn’t writing and playing contemporary classical music.

Recorded first THE LIVING MUSIC was an indirect nod to Julian Beck’s experimental Living Theater group that had recently set up shop in Europe. It was also a smaller-sized version of Schlippenbach’s on-again-off-again-massive Globe Unity Orchestra (GUO), with British trombonist Paul Rutherford and Bennink joining the five Germans players.

In a way it’s those two, as well as Brötzmann, who are most impressive on this session. The trombonist who had already worked with London’s Spontaneous Music Ensemble and GUO and would go on to play throughout Europe, is credited with the invention of trombone multiphonics. Here his avant-gutbucket tone intertwines among the other instruments, stylistically neighing in his way like Tricky Sam Nanton did with Duke Ellington’s band. Using what sound like a regular kit expanded with a marimba, a thumb piano, a massive Oriental gong and who knows what else, Bennink has more percussion on hand than Ellington’s flashy Sony Greer ever had.

Like Greer, he uses it judiciously, however, smashing, banging and thumping enough to bring the discordant darker toned instruments together. At times, though, when the pianist attacks the keyboard with particular ferocity, Bennink become even more bellicose, becoming Sunny Murray to Schlippenbach’s Cecil Taylor.

However, since he began playing professionally almost at the same time as CT, Schlippenbach is more a Thelonious Monk man. As a matter of fact, his introductory solo on “Tower” has a pianistic conception that’s definitely Monk-like. Furthermore, despite Brötz’s overblowing -- no Charlie Rouse he -- and Bennink’s relentless pounding, the pianist’s nearly 11½-minute composition sounds like one of the tunes recorded by those mid-sized Monk ensembles.

Schlippenbach’s cadences and arpeggios are less adventurous elsewhere, especially when Schoof, on cornet, takes the lead. Influenced at that time as much by Ted Curson and other freeboppers as Cherry, the brassman’s “Wave” suggests The Jazz Messengers playing Ornette Coleman. Vying with swinging, foreground percussion, Schoof’s solo is all flourishes, fanfares and note building, facing counterpoint from the saxophone section and Rutherford’s smeared lines. Elsewhere, the British brassman combines with Bennink for exercises in free march time and otherwise -- perhaps aided by Niebergall’s little-heard bass trombone -- stacks up against the buzzing saxophones and relentless percussion with elongated tones that sometimes sound like the braying of animals.

Throughout, Brötzmann is a holy terror, pumping out notes as if from a machine gun and asserting himself more than anyone else. On one occasion he explodes into a cappella multiphonics, then works his way down his horn, tossing out variations on the theme as he goes along. Although as part of the Schoof Quintet and later on with his own band and work with Lacy, Luxembourg-resident Michel Pilz would be quite well known, he’s oddly reticent here. Only on the cornettist’s Stan-Kenton-meets-Don-Cherry arrangement of “Past Time” do his tart clarinet tone make any impression.

On the other hand, nearly every one of the 16 musicians present gets some solo space on EUROPEAN ECHOES, another of Atavistic’s FMP Archive Edition, recorded two months after Schlippenbach’s CD under Schoof nominal leadership.

It seems nominal because a soon a the fist drum beats echo through the studio, by means of the dual percussion of Bennink and Swiss drummer Pierre Favre, it’s obvious that this almost 32-minute composition is going to be some wild ride. Appropriately named, the disc features all the player on the first CD save Pilz plus Parker and German tenorist Gerd Dudek on saxophones; Italian Enrico Rava and Dane Hugh Steinmetz on trumpets; Fred Van Hove from Belgium and Irène Schweizer from Switzerland on pianos; British guitarist Derek Bailey and bassists Peter Kowald from Germany and Arjen Gorter from Holland.

With the examples of controlled chaos that other large ensembles like New York’s The Jazz Composer’s Orchestra, GUO and Brötzmann’s “Machine-Gun” band already created, this disc is most valuable providing aural views of important EuroImprovisers early in their career. Diffident Bailey, for instance, creates some wild, almost rock-oriented electric picking here with such vigor that it overwhelms the dual drummers. A far cry from his present persona as a balladeer, Rava produces some brassy, Don Ayler-like shakes. Meanwhile the triple keyboardists seem to be reconstituted as Cecil Taylor triplets, although during the course of the piece, one -- likely Schweizer -- offers up some inside piano harp glisses, along the lines for which she would later be better known.

Another small big band session that may have been on everyone’s mind at the time was John Coltrane’s less-than-five-years-old ASCENSION. Facing off against one another with cymbals and snares, flams, press rolls and march beats, Favre and Bennink are no Rich vs. Roach but suggest Elvin Jones times two. Additionally, some of the piano chording relates more to McCoy Tyner’s work with Trane than Taylor’s. All three trumpeters appear to be trying to see who can squeal the highest in bugle range as the theme is elaborated, though the plucked bass parts -- when they surface from the din -- may be more advanced than what Art Davis and Jimmy Garrison played on ADSCENSION. Dudek, Parker Brötzmann too generate enough screaming split tones to match Trane’s, Archie Shepp’s and Pharoah Sanders’ multiphonics on ASCENSION, often spitting out several bent notes simultaneously. Finally, as musical shards explode all over like bombs at an anarchist rally, the massed ferment builds to a combative crescendo, ending with the sustained single cymbal echo.

Too young or distanced to have experienced the excitement of 1960s’ Free Jazz? These two discs are the next best thing to being there.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: European: 1. European Echoes Part 1 2. European Echoes Part 2

Personnel: European: Manfred Schoof, Enrico Rava, Hugh Steinmetz (trumpets); Paul Rutherford (trombone); Peter Brötzmann, Gerd Dudek (tenor saxophones); Evan Parker (soprano and tenor saxophone); Alexander Von Schlippenbach; Fred Van Hove, Irène Schweizer (pianos); Derek Bailey (guitar); Peter Kowald, Arjen Gorter (basses); Buschi Niebergall (bass and bass trombone); Han Bennink, Pierre Favre (drums)

Track Listing: Living: 1. The living music 2. Into the Staggerin 3. Wave 4. Tower 5. Lollopalooza 6. Past time

Personnel: Living; Manfred Schoof (cornet and flugelhorn); Paul Rutherford (trombone); Peter Brötzmann (tenor and baritone saxophones); Michel Pilz (bass clarinet and baritone saxophone); Alexander von Schlippenbach (piano and percussion); J.B. Niebergall (bass and bass trombone); Han Bennink (drums and percussion)

December 16, 2002

SPRING HEEL JACK

Amassed
Thirsty Ear TH 57123.2

Note: this CD project was done by certified professionals. Kids don’t try to replicate it at home.

That fanciful slogan could be attached on a parental advisory sticker for this disc. For despite the proliferation of less expensive computer mixing and sampling equipment over the past few years, producing a CD which melds improvised music and studio-created sounds is much more difficult than your average club remix.

But Britons John Coxon and Ashley Wells, who operate as Spring Hell Jack (SHJ), know exactly what they’re doing, as this session aptly demonstrates. Many attempts by others are embarrassing, unmusical, or both.

Coxon and Wells proved their mettle a little more than a year ago on MASSES, when they mixed and matched live solos from such downtown New York heroes as bassist William Parker, pianist Matthew Shipp, multi-instrumentalist Daniel Carter and violinist Mat Manner with their own computer sound and sampling. A prodigious accomplishment, this disc encouraged the likes of the Chicago Underground crew, drummer Guillermo E. Brown and DJ Spooky and a host of very much lesser talents to try similar projects with disastrous results. Burying improvisation under repetitive dance beats and turntable tricks suggested that this innovation was stillborn. Appropriately it takes an originator like SHJ, to show what should be done.

This time out the cast of sampled characters, with the exception of Shipp on electric piano is strictly EuroImprov, including saxophonist Evan Parker, trombonist Paul Rutherford, bassist John Edwards, drummer Han Bennink and Kenny Wheeler on trumpet and flugelhorn. Added are MASSES man George Trebar on electric bass and rock band Spiritualized’s J Spaceman (Jason Pierce) on guitar. Compared to the first CD, results are mixed as well.

Perhaps it’s the presence of rocker Spaceman, or Bennink, never the most disciplined of drummers, but some tracks seem to be gilding the lily of improvisations with unnecessary effects. “Obscured”, the last track, suffers the most, with hand-clapping effects that sound as if they migrated from a Manchester rave. Add to this some pseudo Jeff Beck-like psychedelic guitar licks and snaking electric piano marathons and the tune ends up being a very long nearly nine minutes.

Also disappointing is a duet between Spaceman and Parker on soprano saxophone, whose Middle Eastern sounds no doubt suggested the clichéd “Maroc” title. The space cadet tries to match the saxman’s distinctive circular breathing, hollow reverberating line and foreshortened chirps with guitar feedback. Frankly Parker could have gone it alone. It’s sort of the same thing on “Duel”, with Bennink pardiddling and flaming drum stratagems while Parker, on tenor saxophone, creates a dark sepulchral, glottal tone --imagine E.T. bar walking. But the rumble and thunder of electronics is hardly needed. Neither is what sounds like the same note being repeated over and over again on the keyboard.

With his own electroacoustic ensemble built around sampling and treatments, Parker is quite familiar with this type of sound trickery. So on “Wormwood” and other tunes he manages to produce his distinctive tenor saxophone timbre, pushing asides the quasi-BITCHES BREW electric piano and guitar riffs and feedback that seem to date from the space explorations of the original Yardbirds and initial Pink Floyd line up. Similarly Rutherford, one of BritImprov’s veterans, goes his own way as well, bulldozing a place for himself through the dense electronic tinkling and sampled static.

Elsewhere, luckily, other musicians, especially Parker, are there to add some backbone to the ethereal work of Wheeler. Usually forced into the Miles-meets-organ-washes role, the trumpeter suddenly fires out some unexpected higher notes on “Lit”. Probably he figured that this would be the best way to counter backing that resembles someone attempting to create a Nordic jazz CD with what could be the sounds of ocean waves receding from the shore.

Together on “100 years before”, the flugelhornist’s long-lined cadences and the soprano saxophone’s spinning balladic tone combine for what should have been the best dialogue on the date. That is if Bennink, scratching away on his cymbals didn’t seem to be reading from a different fake book. Soaring over what appears to be interrupted radio broadcasts, reverberating pipe organ chords and what could be carpenter ants crunching away on a back deck, Wheeler beautifully configures and shapes his solo, which is then given added strength from Parker’s trills.

AMASSED prove that the Spring Hill Jack duo have the best handle on the bastard art of mixing improvisations and samples. This disc is an impressive companion piece to their last effort. But future efforts will be scrutinized with even more interest however, to determine when --and if -- novelty gives way to an organic musical whole.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Double Cross~ 2. Amassed+@~^ 3. Wormwood+@^ 4. Lit* 5. Maroc@ 6. 100 years before*^ 7. Duel^ 8. Obscured+!~@^

Personnel: Kenny Wheeler (trumpet and flugelhorn)*; Paul Rutherford (trombone)+; Evan Parker (soprano and tenor saxophone[all tracks but 8]); Matthew Shipp (Fender Rhodes piano)!; Ed Coxon (violins)~; J Spaceman (guitar)@; John Edwards (bass [all tracks but 4, 5, 7); George Trebar (bass and electric bass [track 8]); Han Bennink (drums)^; John Cox and Ashley Wells (all other instruments)

November 18, 2002

EVAN PARKER

Lines Burnt in Light
PSI 01.01

As soon as you hear one note from his horn you’re immediately projected into the soundworld of Evan Parker.

That’s because the British reedman has spent nearly 35 years creating a very personal and particular tone. He has tested, tempered and treated it in aggregations as colossal as the Globe Unity Orchestra and as miniscule as his trio with bassist Barry Guy and drummer Paul Lytton, and with as many others as possible.

He’s also one pioneer of solo saxophone improvisations, and this, his first solo saxophone record in several years, is also the initial release on his own PSI imprint.

Named for the Psi phenomena, which he’s convinced is the heart of improvised music making, this CD also marks a return to label ownership, a role that he has avoided since 1985, when his 15-year partnership with Derek Bailey in Incus dissolved. And what a debut it is. Almost 62½-minutes long, it’s divided among three improvisations of more than 12, more than 22 and more than 27 (!) minutes.

As always the most jaw-dropping -- or is it lip-pursing -- aspect of Parker’s work is how he keeps going for such an extended period of time. Also, unlike the breed of reed athletes who seem to see circular breathing as one more entry in the book of World records, Parker, like his initial influence, John Coltrane, brings an endless supply of ideas to his wind gymnastics.

Listen to any of the tracks here, and while the primary fascination can be with the assembly line of notes that keep pouring from his horn after he takes that first breath, what keeps your interest is the shading and textures of the product. Obviously it’s a soprano saxophone you’re hearing -- it says so on the back panel -- but as he works his way through the peaks and valleys of the improvisations other sounds suggest themselves as well. String overtones appear to present cascades among the twittering notes at certain points, brass allusions are implied at others, and there’s even the hint of percussion at certain times. Is it any wonder that many younger improvising reedists acknowledge Parker as a force of nature with which they must deal? If any of them can metaphorically grow a tree in their solos, then he has already created a forest.

Interestingly enough, Parker has recorded several electro-acoustic projects over the past few years as a way to extend his range. But on this disc, recorded live in a London church with no overdubbing, no treatments, no processing and very much in real time, he’s perhaps proved the primacy of humans over electronics. Highlighting the speed at which creations can now get to the public moreover, the performance was recorded in October of 2001.

Moving into his sixth decade, the saxophonist doesn’t appear to be slowing down in any way. Still producing music that’s often beyond category posits that many more surprises may appear down the road.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. LINE 2. LINE 2 3.LINE 3

Personnel: Evan Parker (soprano saxophone)

January 1, 2002

GLOBE UNITY ORCHESTRA

Globe Unity ’67 & ‘70
Atavistic Unheard Music UMS/ALP 223 CD

Souvenirs of a time when “globe unity” meant more than the convergence of commercial or military interests, this CD of never-before-released tracks feature a small army of Euro improvisers luxuriating in the freedom promulgated by John Coltrane’s ASCENSION and The Jazz Composer’s Orchestra.

Formed in late 1966, following a Berlin Jazz Festival commission for founder/pianist Alexander von Schlippenbach, the Globe Unity Orchestra (GUO) evolved over the years from this wild-and-wooly Energy ensemble to one that joined other European large groups in a concern for compositions. Besides, many might find that these two pieces, initially taped for German radio, more exciting than what came from the band afterwards.

The more than 34-minute, 1967 performance, for instance, finds the less than a year old, 19-piece GUO taking full advantage of the era’s heady musical freedom. Roaring up and down the score is a literal who’s who of (in-the-main) German free jazzers, some of whom like saxophonist Peter Brötzmann -- here playing alto of all things -- bassist Peter Kowald and vibist Karl Berger (as an organizer/teacher) went on to greater and more varied expression. Some like reedman Willem Breuker, trombonist Albert Mangelsdorff and brassman Manfred Schoof turned to more conventional playing. A few musicians have since died and others have been lost in the mists of time.

In a composition made up of many climaxes, ending on an extended Wagnerian flourish, and which practically knocks over the listener with its sheer power, von Schlippenbach seems to be the leader only by osmosis. It’s pretty much every man for himself, spurred and taunted by a massed rhythm section of three percussionists, two bassists, a vibist, a tubaist and the pianist smashing a gong when the spirit moves him.

Especially impressive are Schoof soaring into the ozone layer with his cornet and high D trumpet, and Breuker puffing out some deep-dish baritone saxophone blats. Halfway through as well, Gunter Hampel’s flute and Willy Lietzmann’s tuba join for a minuet that suggests a rhinoceros sashaying with a crow. Additionally, the pianist sounds best two thirds of the way through, when he unleashes some space boogie-woogie, rather than at other places where he still seems in thrall to Cecil Taylor.

However with such a large aggregation and so many short solo peeping out of the dense musical mass, at times it’s hard to ascribe proper praise where it’s due. Is it Gerd Dudek or Heinz Sauer who takes the hairy-chested, Coltranesque tenor saxophone solo at the beginning; and does Hampel or Kris Wanders contribute bass clarinet bottom elsewhere? With everyone trying to contribute his two marks worth, identification become difficult.

Three years later, with the band members’ hair and beards grown even longer and wilder, the Germans are joined by Czech, Polish, French, Dutch and a whole contingent of British musicians -- most prominently saxophonist Evan Parker, guitarist Derek Bailey and drummer Han Bennink. With the section swelled by U.K. trombonists Malcolm Griffiths and Paul Rutherford, the almost 18-minute piece is more brassy and thanks to Dutchman Bennink and his German opposite number Paul Lovens, more percussive. Interestingly enough, though, except for some minor guitar feedback at the top and a small circuit of protracted saxophone excavating in the middle -- which could come from any one of the five saxophonists -- neither Bailey nor Parker seems to showcase any part of what would soon become an instantly identifiable persona. Instead the -- at times -- nine brasses assert themselves more than the other instruments.

Cleaner than many live recordings, but not sonically perfect, the disc boosts the GUO’s slim discography and offers a fresh and memorable look at the band in its formative, most experimental, years.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Globe Unity ’67 2. Globe Unity ‘70

Personnel: ’67: Manfred Schoof (cornet, high D trumpet); Jürg Grau, Claude Deron (trumpet); Jiggs Wigham, Albert Mangelsdorff (trombone); Willy Lietzmann (tuba); Gunter Hampel (bass clarinet, flute); Peter Brötzmann (alto saxophone); Kris

Wanders (alto saxophone, bass clarinet); Gerd Dudek, tenor and soprano saxophones, clarinet); Heinz Sauer (tenor and soprano saxophones); Willem Breuker baritone saxophone, clarinet); Alexander von Schlippenbach (piano, bells, gong, tam-tam); Karlhanns Berger (vibraphone); Buschi Niebergall, Peter Kowald (bass); Jacki Liebezeit, drums, tympani); Mani Neumeier, Sven-Åke Johansson (drums)

Personnel: ’70: Kenny Wheeler (trumpet, flugelhorn); Schoof (trumpet, flugelhorn, high D trumpet); Tomas Stanko, Bernard Vitet (trumpet); Malcolm Griffiths, Mangelsdorff, (trombone); Paul Rutherford (trombone, tenor horn); Niebergall (bass trombone, bass); Evan Parker (soprano and tenor saxophones); Michel Pilz (flute, bass clarinet, soprano saxophone); Dudek, tenor and soprano saxophones, flute); Sauer (alto, tenor and soprano saxophones); Brötzmann, tenor and baritone saxophones); von Schlippenbach (piano, percussion); Derek Bailey (guitar); Kowald (bass, tuba); Arjen Gorter (bass, electric bass); Paul Lovens (drums, percussion); Han Bennink, drums, shellhorn, dhung, gachi)

December 3, 2001

CHRIS MCGREGOR & THE BROTHERHOOD OF BREATH

Travelling Somewhere
Cuneiform Records Rune 152

Illustrating one of the appealing, yet little explored, tributaries of improvised music, this nearly 80 minute blast from the past presents British-South African pianist Chris McGregor's 12-piece Brotherhood of Breath (BOB) recorded live in a 1973 German gig.

Outgrowth of the racially mixed Blue Notes combo that, because of Apartheid, as forced to relocate from Africa to England in the early 1960s, BOB was an altogether more expansive project. With a nucleus of the original combo -- trumpeter Mongezi Feza, alto saxophonist Dudu Pukwana and drummer Louis Moholo as well as McGregor -- it welcomed other immigrants like South African bassist Harry Miller and Barbadian trumpeter Harry Beckett to the fold, and filled out the band with the cream of

BritImprov, here including saxophonists Evan Parker and Mike Osborne.

The result was a free-flowing melange of styles that echoed Township jive, Scottish missionary anthems, the freedom of Energy Music and the close attention to detail that characterized emerging British improvisers. Oh, and one shouldn't forget the ongoing big band tradition, which for these musicians meant what the Sun Ra Arkestra and the Jazz Composers Guild Orchestra were doing, as well as Count Basie's swing and Duke Ellington's early "jungle" band sound.

For an example, listen to Pukwana's "MRA", the lead track, which seems to be one part free jazz and the other African high life, courtesy of its composer and Feza, with the pianist playing ringmaster in the middle. As the rhythm section cleaves to the beat, one of the trombonists soars over the cacophony provided by the other horns, finally resolving his solo in a brisk bebop style. "Restless" is the proper title for the next tune since the band seems to roar into it without a break. As Miller holds the beat steady, McGregor introduces some Monkish interludes and Moholo indulges in some robust rhythmic drumming. Finally before a Pukwana-directed outside section, Beckett offers a muted Lee Morgan-style exploration of the tune.

Conversely, McGregor's "Wood Fire", the longest track, sounds as if it was being created by the Village Vanguard orchestra of the day, if that band ever exhibited freeform flourishes. First trombonist Nick Evans, then section mate Malcolm Giffiths -- who has more of a fondness for lip slurs -- worry the melody here, as the rest of the band builds up a full head of steam behind them. Alto lines jump from Osborne to Pukwana and back again with someone sounding like he's quoting "Sunshine of Your Love" and the trumpets weighing in with some Arkestra-like tuttis. Finally the piece ends on a massed low trombone note.

Other sounds that appear range from the African-gospelish "Ismite Is Might", which showcases Feza's high note trumpet, to the title tune, a light, swinging Ellington-via-Ra composition which shows how much McGregor, its composer, can extract from an out-of-tune piano. Surprisingly with players whose main commitment was to experimentation, the sax section riffs in unison like a four-piece Basie squad and the tune ends on a dime (or should that be a quid)?

Osborne's tone on his own "Think of Something" even suggests Latin saxophone stylings, not the British freebopper he was. Later, though, after Moholo beats out some carnival rhythms and McGregor some skittering piano, he changes course into a more orthodox bebop approach.

Perhaps the pleasant schizophrenia -- real in Osborne's case -- exhibited here sums up the reason for the band's relatively low profile. Never a fully free aggregation, ethnic enough to attract the Africanophiles, nor straight enough to give the swing crowd the warm fuzzies, it had to reach audiences through pure musical excellence.

That it had that quality is evident from this CD. It's just a shame that McGregor who died at 53 in 1990 isn't around to hear how well this historical document sounds.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. MRA 2. Restless 3. Ismite Is Might 4. Kongi's Theme 5. Wood Fire 6. The Bride 7. Travelling Somewhere 8. Think Of Something 9. Do It

Harry Beckett, Mongezi Feza, Marc Charig (trumpet); Nick Evans, Malcolm Griffiths (trombone); Mike Osborne, Dudu Pukwana (alto sax); Evan Parker, Gary Windo (tenor sax); Chris McGregor (piano); Harry Miller (bass); Louis Moholo (drums)

October 29, 2001

EVAN PARKER/BARRY GUY/LAWRENCE CASSERLEY

Dividuality
Maya MCD 0101

Having explored nearly every sort of improvised music from solo to big band in their more than three decade journey, bassist Barry Guy and saxophonist Evan Parker have become the Lewis and Clarke of BritImprov.

The past five years, however, have seen them, like Sir Edmund Hillary, finding another peak to investigate simply because it's there: electronics. Luckily their Sherpa on this trip is Lawrence Casserley, one of the grand old men of the field, who is a composer and performer as well as a signal processor.

Casserley who took early retirement from the Royal College of Music a few years ago to pursue his other activities already had a history with the two when this disc was recorded. He had provided live processing for Guy's London Jazz Composers Orchestra and, after developing with Parker a signal processing instrument specifically for improvised music, recorded in duo with the saxophonist shortly before this session. Since then he has joined the two musicians and others to bring his skills to Parker's Electro Acoustic Ensemble.

Not someone who revels in pure electronic circuitry like some younger performers, Casserley knows how to use his mazes of wires as instruments, so much so that this absorbing CD could be a record of another Parker-Guy trio or perhaps quartet or quintet,

"Shifting" for instance can be seen as presenting a history of Western music's evolution in fewer than 13 minutes. For a start Guy, an early music specialist in another life, pays homage to the baroque in some of his movements. In fact, the speedy plucked runs he creates at times makes it seem as if he's playing a sort of archlute with its long neck and extra bass strings. Parker, meantime, could be working out his improvisations on a personalized recorder, which seems fitting considering that the woodwind was initially named the "English flute". Casserley's processing turns that "flute" into an entire recorder orchestra, echoing and re-echoing notes that soon dominate the track. Just as this collection of bird sounds threatens to blot out the bassist's subtle bridge exploration, though, the electronics creates mechanized wind guts, which connect more easily to some of the more arid compositions of modernists like Edgard Varèse than any baroque air. What has been presented is a modulation from the 16th to the 20th century by three players.

Conversely, "Transmute" more closely resembles the trio work the saxophonist and bassist have done in the past with the likes of drummer Paul Lytton as the sound processor's mechanized electronic wiggles take the percussion part. With electronics serving as a cushion to improvise upon rather than a blanket that muffles, you can easily hear Parker's false fingering and conveyer belt of piercing tones plus Guy leaping from bow to fingers and back again as he plays. Soon after the saxist's accelerated circular breathing seems to go beyond human endurance, the thought arises that it's probably extended by processing. Then unique, otherworldly organ tones -- also courtesy of Casserley -- enter the soundscape as Parker's sonics are matched by violin-pitched scratches from Guy. Finally the mechanized storm reaches hurricane force and subsumes all other improvisations.

Duets between the electronics whiz and either Parker or Guy assume strange properties as well. In the face off between the saxophonist and the sound artist you often wonder whether the multitude of darting notes and fluttering tonguing you hear is actually coming from Parker. Or are they some earlier sounds that have been captured and fed back into the mix by Casserley at the same time as the soprano creates new ones.

Somehow, too, the treatment of the bassist's solos raises questions as well. You can easily recognize the characteristic Guy arco arch or his sprint up and down the strings, but there are times his expected double bass sounds are transformed into what could be emanating from a marimba or a wooden bass flute. All the while the tones seeping around him appear to come from robotic machines or ghostly bells.

It's puzzling as to why Maya sat on this 1997 session until now. It certainly gives you additional insight into Parker and Guy's accommodations with electronics, while confirming Casserley's ability to provide a human element from this mass of circuitry.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Frondescence 2. Dividuality 3. Aulos 4. Shifting 5. Scion 6. Zool 7. Spinney 8. Transmute 9. Calyx

Personnel: Evan Parker (soprano saxophone); Barry Guy (bass); Lawrence Casserley (live electronics, sound processing)

1. Frondescence 2. Dividuality 3. Aulos 4. Shifting 5. Scion 6. Zool 7. Spinney 8. Transmute 9. Calyx

October 22, 2001

PAUL BLEY/EVAN PARKER/BARRE PHILLIPS

Sankt Gerold
ECM 1609 012 157 899-2

Recorded at the spectacularly-situated Propstei Sankt Gerold, monastery in the Austrian alps, this follow up to the trio's lavishly praised TIME WILL TELL CD, offers a disparate vision of how the participants view sound.

Imbued with a chamber jazz essence, the first CD was also, extraordinarily, the first time British saxophonist Evan Parker and Canadian pianist Paul Bley had recorded together, despite having been involved with improvised music for, at that point, about 35 years each. Veteran American bassist Barre Phillips was the common link, and the success of the session not only set new standards of literate blending, but two years later, also allowed the three to embark on their first-ever -- and so far only -- trio tour including this date. SANKT GEROLD pinpoints the group's singularity as well as its cohesiveness. Unlike TIME's seven trio and four duo selections, this CD is divided between five trio selections and a basket full of solo spots for each member.

Perhaps the spirit of compromise was a little too hearty an elixir to continue drinking, for in their solo spots the three revert back to form. Parker, especially, turns in a spectacular more than five minute exercise in carefully-paced, idea-driven soprano saxophone circular breathing on "Variation 10", with his two other shorter solo spots merely miniature versions of the same.

In his two features, conversely, Bley is alternately impish and traditional. On the mid-tempo "Variation 6", for instance, with its echoes of bop, he seems intent on cramming as many notes into the allotted time space as possible. "Variation 9", which is slower, darker and built on a framework of right handed rumbles and pedal work, resolves itself into something that almost sounds like early 20th Century classical musings. Phillips' showpieces merely confirm his conception as a solitary pizzicato and arco explorer. You'd even swear there were two basses present on "Variation 7".

As a trio the most exciting performance is the penultimate one. Alive with plucked keyboard notes, steady flashing soprano saxophone pitches and Phillips using his hand and bow on his bass's body to create percussion effects, it shows what can happen when the three set their mind to play together.

Perhaps Phillips' relative inaudibility on other tracks is the basis for the disc's slow build up. At least on some earlier variations, Parker's multiphonics appear to be at variance with Bley's romantic Impressionism. When the bassist's almost jazz-like runs come to fore so does cohesion. Responding to this prodding Bley then breaks into what sound like diminutive nursery rhymes, while Parker begins supplying the underlying ostinato. Later, you can almost sense the three parallel lines going at once on "Variation 8", with Bley tinkling out diamond hard tones, Parker producing a rough, almost conventionally "jazzy" sound and the bassist filling the spaces as he scurries behind.

The strength of the three is that each can fill either the soloist or accompanist role, but they rarely function as an integrated trio per se. Conceivably this brand new -- but 1996 recorded -- session convinced the musicians that they were growing as musicians, but not as a band.

In the future, this noble experiment may or may not be repeated, and certainly the often-exemplary sounds here won't disappoint followers of any of the musicians and will perhaps impress anyone who loves the first meeting of the three. But everyone should understand that it's no TIME WILL TELL #2. None of these men would want to replicate the document produced before. Nor should they have to.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1, Variation 1 2. Variation 2 3. Variation 3 4. Variation 4 5. Variation 5 6. Variation 6 7. Variation 7 8. Variation 8 9. Variation 9 10. Variation 10 11. Variation 11 12. Variation 12

Personnel: Evan Parker (soprano and tenor saxophones); Paul Bley (piano); Barre Phillips (bass)

April 24, 2001

EVAN PARKER/TONART ENSEMBLE

Brot & Honig
True Muze TUMU CD 0003

With an attitude that might well be "have improvisation will travel", British saxophone innovator Evan Parker has brought his horns and prodigious technique to many countries over the past 35 years, working in ensembles ranging from duos to big bands.

BROT & HONIG is a souvenir of one of his more recent forays: a five day trip to Hamburg, Germany last year to collaborate for the first time with this 13-piece improvisers collective. The results, while fine music, are a bit surprising. For of the two lengthly compositions performed by the group, the one "composed" by Parker sounds more like modern, so-called legitimate (i.e. classical) music, while the other, created by TonArt violinist Nicola Kruse appears to be pure improv.

Parker's title tune is mostly a tutti exercise, with all the instruments more-or-less playing together in quiet, near conventional harmony for the first 23 or so minutes, before breaking the tune down into more elastic time. Moreover such instrumentalists as Kruse exhibit very legit tones as their parts unroll, making the overall connotation sound more muted than it should be.

True excitement shines through on "Syrah & Papidoux", however. Here at last the TonArt shows itself capable of replicating the sound and imagination of a much larger free ensemble such as the London Jazz Composers Orchestra, of which Parker is a founding member. Not that group expression is ignored, but as opposed to the "classical" conception of "Brot & Honig", with everyone playing at the same time, here other musicians usually function as a swelling chorus behind the diverse soloists.

Distinct voices express themselves in a variety of ways, with Klammer and Nitz's quivering percussion coloring the proceeding, Haase's banjo coming across as a sort of de-tuned guitar and Gödecke revealing himself as an resourceful slide man, playing off against an orchestral backdrop.

Pulse-quickening excitement juices up the second half of the tune with some of the other horns ricocheting riffs off Parker's every expanding and contracting soprano tone. At times the melange of brass, reeds, bass and percussion begins to resemble the empathetic interaction the saxophonist enjoys with longtime mates bassist Barry Guy and drummer Paul Lytton. Augmenting to a climax, the tune then serenely disappears following writhing vibes pulses and bowed bass notes.

The fact that Parker selflessly doesn't insist on returning to have the last word, or note, offers insight into his creative process. It also pinpoints why his foreign partnerships are usually so fruitful.

--Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Brot & Honig 2. Syrah & Papidoux

Personnel: Heinz-Erich Gödecke (trombone, didgeridoo); Hannes Wienert (sax trumpet, soprano saxophone); Claudius Molter (flute, alto flute, piccolo); Evan Parker (soprano saxophone); Heiner Metzger (clarinet, alto clarinet, alto saxophone, synthersizer); Georgia Ch. Hoppe (bass clarinet, hybrid clarinet, electric guitar); Ole Hoffmann (baritone saxophone); Nicola Kruse (violin, tenor violin); Ulla Levens (violin); Michael Haase (banjo); Alexander Dannullis (acoustic guitar); Peter Niklas Wilson (bass); Harry Nitz (vibraphone, percussion); Robert Klammer (percussion)

November 28, 2000

EVAN PARKER/KEITH ROWE

Dark Rags
Potlatch P 200

Nearly 40 years after Parker, as part of the Spontaneous Musical Ensemble, and Rowe in AMM, separately began creating unique improvisational languages, they've finally recorded as a duo.

For men on either side of 60 the dictum that "free jazz keeps you young" must be true, for the result is as engaging and thought-provoking as anything the two have produced during their long careers.

Of course there are still those, including Parker and Rowe at different times of their lives, who would argue against labeling DARK RAGS jazz. Maybe it isn't, but even if you ignore the musically historical meaning of "rags", it's also a truism that sounds like this couldn't exist without jazz.

Made up of two lengthy performances at 37 minutes plus and 40 minutes plus, DARK RAGS was recorded in concert in Nantes, France in two different centuries -- on Dec. 31, 1999 and Jan. 1, 2000. But true to the natures of both men, the result is both timeless and timely.

Initially, as the unremitting drone emanating from Rowe's side is sporadically punctuated by snatches of radio broadcasts, it may seem that the guitarist could become the overpowering partner. Electroacoustic settings have preoccupied the saxophonist recently though, leading to new stratagems. So as a man never lacking in inspiration -- or breath control for that matter -- Parker soldiers on. He keeps on playing and soon asserts himself. Reverberations in both the middle and highest range exhale from his horn, gradually and judiciously commenting on the proceedings. Victors and vanquished don't figure in this equation, though, since the object is masterful collaboration, not triumph.

Lacking carefully defined themes, no particular highpoint can be pinpointed here; but the low points seem conspicuous in their absence. A unified whole -- despite the different titles -- the disc must be approached with no preconceptions of how a guitar and a tenor saxophone should sound or perhaps even how one defines music.

Certainly longtime followers of the musicians will understand this instinctively and accept the shifting textures of sound for what it is. Other, more skeptical deep listeners, will gradually warm to the ever-shifting pattern and soon find themselves drawn in as well.

Appreciating the session intently and honestly, in fact only raises one question: Why are these particular rags described as "dark" when they could as readily be heard as "multi-colored"?

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Dark Rag #1 2. Dark Rag #2

Personnel: Evan Parker (tenor saxophone); Keith Rowe (guitar, electronics)

October 19, 2000

SCHLIPPENBACH QUARTET

Hunting The Snake
Atavistic/Unheard Music Series UMS/ALP 213 CD

One of the longest lasting of Euroimprov groups -- since 1972 -- the trio of Parker/Schlippenbach/Lovens was also unique because, until the 1990s, it recorded so infrequently.

But that's understandable as well. German pianist Schlippenbach was busy with first the Globe Unity Orchestra and then the Berlin Contemporary Jazz Orchestra; German drummer Lovens was sideman of choice for everyone from Cecil Taylor to Eugene Chadbourne; and Englishman Parker -- citizen of the world -- was behind the microphone with everyone from a Tuvan throat singer to Italian improvisers.

Consequently, a more than 77-minute session recorded early in their career together (1975) is like discovering buried treasure. That it was one of the few times the three performed as a quartet -- with the addition of pioneering German free bassist Kowald makes it more precious.

Impeccably recorded by Radio Bremen, the CD shows that even at this juncture the trio members had developed a penetrating congruence, with Lovens, especially, was emphasizing his cymbals' many properties. More to the point, on this disc, Kowald fits in like a ball in a socket. Notably, though, when there's no piano sound, the other three resemble a version of Parker's other famous trio with bassist Barry Guy and drummer Paul Lytton.

Looking back from a 2000 perspective, it's surprising to realize just how "jazzy" -- compared to so-called "free" -- the band was. There are points, such as on "Moonbeef", where Schlippenbach's solos are mainstream enough to fit into any progressive piano trio.

Endless circular breathing wasn't yet perfected by Parker at this time either. So, while he experimented with it, as on the title tune here, he was as likely to use cries, reverberation, double stops, whistles, variations and interjections as respiratory exercises to tell his story. Backdrop was provided by cymbal crackles, piano wipes and bass note shaping.

Much more than history, HUNTING is a first class sonic adventure and one that definitely deserves to be heard.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Glen Fleshie 2. Moonbeef 3. Hunting The Snake 4. Wenn Wir Kehlkopfspieler Uns Unterhalten

Personnel: Evan Parker (soprano and tenor saxophones); Alex Von Schlippenbach (piano); Peter Kowald (bass); Paul Lovens (drums, selected drums and cymbals)

October 4, 2000

PETER BRÖTZMANN

Nipples
Atavistic/Unheard Music Series UMS/ALP 205 CD

One of the great, lost Euroimprov records, NIPPLES could rightly be described as a supersession. Recorded in 1969, less than a year after German saxophonist Brötzmann's seminal call to free jazz arms, MACHINE GUN, it has been out of print for almost the same amount of time. Not only does the title track feature five of the MACHINE GUNners, but it adds guitarist Bailey, who with saxophonist Parker would very soon turn away from this extroverted style to concentrate on the distinctive British "scratch and pick" style.

NIPPLES' unavailability put the same hole in the European creative music discography that would have happened with rock if The Rolling Stones Now! had quickly gone out of print. Not only would listeners have been deprived of a glimpse of the Stones with such disparate folks as Gene Pitney and Phil Spector, but some of the band's best early blues playing would have been lost.

In the Euroimprov firmament, each of the men here has proved to be as important to that music more than three decades later as the Stones were to rock. Flemish nationalist Van Hove, has continued to refine his piano style; Bennink, from Holland, is still as bombastic as ever and has propelled many a free jazz blow out, as well as several large orchestras; Bailey is the crotchety grand old man of improv; Parker, a master of circular breathing, is arguably one of the most influential sax stylists in the world; and Brötzmann's lung-shredding tone is still on view anywhere from Germany to Germantown. Unfortunately, though, German bassist Niebergal, died a few years ago).

Probably the most unexpected part of the title track is how much both saxophonists sound like one another (sort of realizing that it was Brian Jones not Keith Richards who played lead guitar on an early Stones track). At that point, Parker seemed able to match Brötzmann power shriek for power shriek, intertwining sounds as if they were two snakes. The one extended, unaccompanied stop-time solo must be Brötz, however. Overall, the effect is exhilarating.

Noteworthy too is Bailey's work, since he's as upfront here with literal electric lines, as he would be in the background for most of his subsequent improv projects.

On the other hand, "Green Man", the quartet track, is quieter and more rhythm section and rhythmically-oriented. At least until the saxophonist gets warmed up. Then

It's strictly a Teutonic eruption, with Brötz exploring the range of his horn through several themes including one that echoes Albert Ayler's "Ghosts". His work forces Van Hove -- the second soloist -- to play more assertively than he does in 2000, while nothing has ever prevented Bennink from adding obstreperous percussion colors to any proceeding.

If there's a drawback to this CD, it's that it's less than 34 minute long. But if your interest is well recorded, quality music rather than quantity of sound you can't go far wrong with this session.

--Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Nipples 2. Tell The Green Man

Personnel: Peter Brötzmann and Evan Parker (tenor saxophones); Derek Bailey (guitar); Fred Van Hove (piano); Buschi Niebergal (bass); Han Bennink (drums)

June 17, 2000

EVAN PARKER

Drawn Inward
ECM 1693 547 209-2

It's actually quite appropriate to employ the over-used expression "quantum leap" when talking about the music of Evan Parker's Electro-Acoustic Ensemble. For there's an actual transformation of energy here as the explorative British saxophonist and his group tailor live electronics and sound processing to their own ends.

Parker, who has spent the years since the mid-1960s, perfecting a unique improv language for his horns, has never been one to turn away from challenging musical situations. During that time he has not only performed with the cream of jazz/improv musicians, but also with others as varied as a Tuvan throat singer, an Italian brass band and even a shoe-gazing rocker. His concept seems to be to make it different with every outing. And that's how he and his associates approach this memorable CD. But paradoxically, it works so well because of a combination of the familiar and the unusual.

Dealing with the familiar first, three-sixths of the accompanying musicians are longtime Parker associates. Bassist Guy and drummer Lytton plus Parker have been together on-and-off for about 25 years and make up the most influential improv group since Ornette Coleman's "Golden Circle" trio. Violinist Wachsmann is another old friend from Guy's London Jazz Composers Orchestra and other projects. Prati and Vecchi were around for Parker's first electro-acoustic project, and he has worked as a duo with Casserley in the past.

The unusual arrives with the acceptance of electronics. Earlier live shows and this aggregations first ECM CD, TOWARD THE MARGINS, were fine music, but no one seemed to have worked out exactly how the "electro" could meld with the "acoustic". Thus some tracks on the first CD sound like that of an acoustic group; others seemed all electronic.

DRAWN INWARD makes that "quantum leap", integrating the two musical strands into one, probably because everyone but Parker and Guy is involved in sound manipulation. Plus new "hire" Casserley is a composer as well as an electronic manipulator, who brings that skill along with his technical prowess.

Lytton is an old hand at this type of music, having experimented with "electric drums" since the early 1970s and easily shows what he can do on "Travel in the Homeland". Wachsmann's features are the same with electronics allowing his tart violin runs to be both conventionally tonal and alive with otherworldy echoes.

But it's Guy who makes the most memorable breakthrough. On "Reanscreena", he highlights his considerable string dexterity playing naked acoustic bass surrounded by a thick buffer of waves from all four processors.

Another tour de force arrives on "Collect Calls", where the entire ensemble creates one tune, than improvises against a recorded fragment of an earlier concert. To imagine it, think about one of those pictures of pictures of pictures of pictures, with the subject in each one getting smaller, but with all the details still intact.

Seemingly endless circular breath control and thick, scurrying micro notes that make up Parker's solo style aren't absent on DRAWN INWARD either. Any thinking saxophonist will probably be agape at what he can do with his horn on tracks like "Serpent In The Sky," with or without the backing electronics.

To sum up: Rather than being drawn inward, this session should be drawn outward and into your collection.

-Ken Waxman

Track listing: 1. The Crooner (for Johnny Hartman) 2. Serpent in Sky 3. Travel in the Homeland 4. Spouting Bowl 5. Collect Calls (Milano - Kingston) [Bugged] 6. aka Lotan 7. Renascreena 8. At Home in the Universe (for Stuart Kauffman) 9. Writing On Ice 10. Phloy in the Frame 11. Drawninward

Personnel: Evan Parker (soprano and tenor saxophones, khène);Phil Wachsmann(violin, viola, live electronics, sound processing) Barry Guy (bass); Paul Lytton (drums, live electronics); Lawrence Casserley (live electronics, sound processing); Walter Prati (live electronics, sound processing); Marco Vecchi (live electronics, sound processing)

April 22, 2000