Mural

Nectars of Emergence
SOFA 528

Colin Mclean/Andy Moor

Everything but the Beginning

Unsounds U17

Shaman

Nous percons les oreillesx

Ambiances Magnétiques AM 200 CD

Bertrand Gauguet/Franz Hautzinger/Thomas Lehn

Close Up

MonotypeRec. mono024

Extended Play: VTO2010

By Ken Waxman

More an enhancement than a replication of Quebec’s Festival International de Musique Actuelle de Victoriaville (FIMAV), Toronto’s VTO2010 festival cherry picks some of FIMAV’s international performers, presenting them with invited Canadian musicians. As these CDs indicate, the improvisers are impressive no matter the location or formation.

One of the most anticipated concerts is the Six at the Music Gallery May 26. An all-star European ensemble, one of its distinguishing characteristic is the supportive synthesizer work of Köln’s Thomas Lehn. Close Up MonotypeRec. mono024) demonstrates Lehn’s skills providing the underpinning for Bertrand Gauguet, a technically adroit French saxophonist, plus Viennese quarter-tone trumpeter Franz Hautzinger. As with the Six, electronics are part of this trio’s mix. So on “Close Up”’s three extended tracks blurry intonation encompasses loops of granulated tones mixed with rumbles and pulses from Lehn, air burbled through the body tube of Gauguet’s saxophones and tremolo buzzing from Hautzinger. Building up in sonic fervor through the intersection of synthesizer pitch shifting, distortion and flanging plus wide-bore whizzes and echoing patterns from the acoustic instruments, the CD climaxes with the over 26-minute Close Up 03. Cricket-like reed chirps and hand-muted brass vibrations are put aside for spectral processing which adds the affiliated extensions of most timbre as they sweep by staccato or glissandi. While the electronics’ wave forms undulate symmetrically, they also output enough percussive drones to subsume technical flaunting. The trumpeter’s braying bell-like reverb and the saxophonist’s feral animal-like squeals consequently meld with thumping synthesizer pedal-point expressions for a satisfying finale.

Colin Mclean’s computer processing is also prominent on Everything but the Beginning Unsounds U17. But so is the guitar prowess of British guitarist Andy Moor, a member of the EX. In Toronto his Music Gallery performance – also on May 26 – is as part of a long-standing duo with French poetess Anne-James Chatton. On this CD, his technical command of the six-string is showcased with McLean’s hardware usually confined to patched rumbles and processed burbles and rebounds. Moor often uses the laptop undercurrent as a click track, linearly exposing single-string snaps, rough twangs or chuffed reverberations. His improvising can be playfully decorative, as when he seconds the sample of a squeak toy on Delta Block. In contrast on The Flower of fixed idea it appears that piezo pickups multiple his twangs so that the theme is pulsed, pushed and twisted into voltage-shaking signals.

Acoustic interaction is also featured on May 19, with the Dans Les Arbes quartet at the Music Gallery. Consisting of one French and three Norwegian musicians, it offers the same sort of extrasensory perception its percussionist Ingar Zach bring to Mural Nectars of Emergence SOFA Records 528. Interestingly enough Zach’s “Mural”-mates, Australian flautist/saxophonist Jim Denley and guitarist Kim Myhr, are at FIMAV in a different configuration. Minimalist and atmospheric, the CD’s seven tracks are built up from pointillist dabs of sonic colors, soaking together without abrasion. That doesn’t mean the performance is modest, just unshowy. Zach for instance use wood pops, bowl scrapes, chiming bells and drum-skin rubs to make his points. Meantime Myhr’s guitar preparations allow him to produce hefty church-organ-like chords in some instances, loops of electrified signal-processed clangs elsewhere and constant harsh strumming. Throughout Denley’s masticated split tones propel his saxophone pitches to the patchy edge of hearing with strident wolf whistles, tongue slaps and subterranean growls, while there’s nothing delicate about his buzzing flute expositions. “Flash Expansion” is particularly noteworthy. With Myhr’s rhythmic rasgueado meeting up with amplified drum-top rubs and harsh reed reflux, the processed loops bring the narrative in-and-out-of-focus, with the sound menacing and motor-driven one minute, the next as weightless as waves lapping against the sea shore.

A weightier Canadian balance to the international sounds is the exclusive-to-VTO triple bill at the Tranzac club May 14. The Rent and Hat + Beard are locals, while Shaman from Montreal is also on hand. Consisting of Jean Derome and Joane Hétu on woodwinds, voices and objects Nous percons les oreilles Ambiances Magnétiques AM 200 CD exposes Shaman’s strategy of D-I-Y ethnomusicology. Like ancient tribal healers the duo expresses itself through verbal screams, squeaks, murmurs, mumbles and cries as well as inchoate instrumental textures. The two recount 12 short narratives which are as much Dada as primitive, wrapped in onomatopoeia that bonds mouth expressions such as cheers, yelps and gurgles with slide-whistle peeps, unsequenced altissimo saxophone stridency, key percussion, clipping chromatic timbres and reverberating body tube echoes.

-- For Whole Note Vol. 15 #8

May 7, 2010

Augustí Fernández

Un llamp que no s’acaba mai
psi 09.04

Augustí Fernández & Ingar Zach

Germinal

Plasticstrip pspcd708

Barcelona-based Augustí Fernández is probably the most accomplished and readily identifiable Spanish pianist since Tete Montolieu – although both he and Montolieu would likely prefer to be known as Catalans.

Each of these high-class sessions emphasizes Fernández’ inventive versatility. As a quick rule-of-thumb, Un llamp que no s’acaba mai involves more of his on-the-keyboard skills and Germinal his explorations beneath the lid – bowing and slapping the string mechanism from soundboard to speaking length.

His partner on Germinal is Norwegian percussionist Ingar Zach, who now lives near Madrid, and like the pianist has concretizes with many European improvisers as well as maintaining membership in groups such as Huntsville and Magnetic North Orchestra. Fernández, who teaches improvisation at the Escola Superior de Música de Catalunya, is also a member of bands lead by bassist Barry Guy and saxophonist Evan Parker. Coincidentally bassist John Edwards and drummer Mark Sanders, who back up the pianist on the other CD, frequently work with Parker as well.

Sonically more like twins of different mothers than pianist and percussionist, Fernández, and Zach as frequently expose the abrasive and percussive qualities of both instruments as they do their timbral and lyrical qualities. For instance Zach is more likely to gash his drum stick along the cymbal or chafe drum skins than output a steady rhythm. For his part, the pianist clips the keys, twangs and stops strings with implements that emphasize his instrument’s metallic qualities. Unspecified sound echoes and forceful reverberations are so common throughout that they not only extend the power of the interactions, but leave unanswered the question of which sound belongs to which instrument. In fact, Germinal is designed to aurally reflect Spain’s long-time underground anarchist tradition.

Fernández’ piano patterning on a track such as “Capaz de luz “evolves to nocturne-like reflective cadences from Morse-code-like single note and soundboard vibrations. Meanwhile Zach sympathetically produces an undercurrent of connective drones from his drum heads as well as resounding glockenspiel-like pings. Throughout the percussionist is given enough space to showcase unique processes. One for instance, finds him whacking unattached cymbals for maximum spatial effect, while the pianist saws on wound bass strings and unwound treble strings beneath the lid. These additional tones bounce back from the piano’s capotes and speaking length.

Sonic communication between the two reaches a climax on “Arcano”, where the joint output of blurry percussion stroking plus flanged whistles and node-enhanced key-stopping suggest the sort of broken-octave refractions usually only possible with electronics. As Fernández sets up shop beneath the piano lid, rubbing and pounding the bottom frame, string set and speaking length, Zach counters with bell-strokes, drags and rolls. Finally the pianist increases the tension with kinetic actions that appear to strip the finish from the internal mechanism only to settle into reflective silences at the end.

Recorded in concert surroundings, Un llamp que no s’acaba mai more closely relates to the standard jazz piano trio, with its four sections taken moderato and surprisingly legato. A piece like the first for example, deflects more towards Edwards’ bass than the drummer’s press rolls and cymbal scrapes or the pianist’s layered glissandi. Here the bassist’s sul tasto and sul ponticello string excavations expand into atonal pumping, scraping and scratching. The contrapuntal interludes are so discordant, that it takes reassuring low-pitched string taps from Edwards to specifically identify the bass.

As for the pianist, his output ranges from the near-formal, with recital-like portamento runs and arpeggio tinkling; to the most liberated, as he scratches the instrument’s wood inside and outside, and pummels the keys in kinetic response to the drummer’s cymbal strokes and hammering percussion. Sanders’ showcase is saved for “Quarto”, but even here he displays his wares without overpowering the others. In sync with Fernández’ high-pitched string-scraping – that replicates saxophone trills – and Edwards’ triple-stopping bowing, the drummer reverberates pops and paradiddles on cymbals, toms and snares, while thwacking his bass drum. With Edwards buzzing his strings in a spiccato manner and Fernández using pedal action to push his drones to an equivalent timbre, the three finally bond.

Pianism at its most assured, Fernández and associates bring complementary skills to the aural sound pictures.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Germinal: 1. Volutas 2. Hojarasca 3. Arcano 4. Es la nieve sobre et mar 5. Hidromiel 6. Capaz de luz

Personnel: Germinal: Augustí Fernández (piano) and Ingar Zach (percussion)

Track Listing: llamp: 1. Primo 2. Secondo 3. Tertio 4. Quarto

Personnel: llamp: Augustí Fernández (piano); John Edwards (bass) and Mark Sanders (drums)

September 26, 2009

Augustí Fernández & Ingar Zach

Germinal
Plasticstrip pspcd708

Augustí Fernández

Un llamp que no s’acaba mai

psi 09.04

Barcelona-based Augustí Fernández is probably the most accomplished and readily identifiable Spanish pianist since Tete Montolieu – although both he and Montolieu would likely prefer to be known as Catalans.

Each of these high-class sessions emphasizes Fernández’ inventive versatility. As a quick rule-of-thumb, Un llamp que no s’acaba mai involves more of his on-the-keyboard skills and Germinal his explorations beneath the lid – bowing and slapping the string mechanism from soundboard to speaking length.

His partner on Germinal is Norwegian percussionist Ingar Zach, who now lives near Madrid, and like the pianist has concretizes with many European improvisers as well as maintaining membership in groups such as Huntsville and Magnetic North Orchestra. Fernández, who teaches improvisation at the Escola Superior de Música de Catalunya, is also a member of bands lead by bassist Barry Guy and saxophonist Evan Parker. Coincidentally bassist John Edwards and drummer Mark Sanders, who back up the pianist on the other CD, frequently work with Parker as well.

Sonically more like twins of different mothers than pianist and percussionist, Fernández, and Zach as frequently expose the abrasive and percussive qualities of both instruments as they do their timbral and lyrical qualities. For instance Zach is more likely to gash his drum stick along the cymbal or chafe drum skins than output a steady rhythm. For his part, the pianist clips the keys, twangs and stops strings with implements that emphasize his instrument’s metallic qualities. Unspecified sound echoes and forceful reverberations are so common throughout that they not only extend the power of the interactions, but leave unanswered the question of which sound belongs to which instrument. In fact, Germinal is designed to aurally reflect Spain’s long-time underground anarchist tradition.

Fernández’ piano patterning on a track such as “Capaz de luz “evolves to nocturne-like reflective cadences from Morse-code-like single note and soundboard vibrations. Meanwhile Zach sympathetically produces an undercurrent of connective drones from his drum heads as well as resounding glockenspiel-like pings. Throughout the percussionist is given enough space to showcase unique processes. One for instance, finds him whacking unattached cymbals for maximum spatial effect, while the pianist saws on wound bass strings and unwound treble strings beneath the lid. These additional tones bounce back from the piano’s capotes and speaking length.

Sonic communication between the two reaches a climax on “Arcano”, where the joint output of blurry percussion stroking plus flanged whistles and node-enhanced key-stopping suggest the sort of broken-octave refractions usually only possible with electronics. As Fernández sets up shop beneath the piano lid, rubbing and pounding the bottom frame, string set and speaking length, Zach counters with bell-strokes, drags and rolls. Finally the pianist increases the tension with kinetic actions that appear to strip the finish from the internal mechanism only to settle into reflective silences at the end.

Recorded in concert surroundings, Un llamp que no s’acaba mai more closely relates to the standard jazz piano trio, with its four sections taken moderato and surprisingly legato. A piece like the first for example, deflects more towards Edwards’ bass than the drummer’s press rolls and cymbal scrapes or the pianist’s layered glissandi. Here the bassist’s sul tasto and sul ponticello string excavations expand into atonal pumping, scraping and scratching. The contrapuntal interludes are so discordant, that it takes reassuring low-pitched string taps from Edwards to specifically identify the bass.

As for the pianist, his output ranges from the near-formal, with recital-like portamento runs and arpeggio tinkling; to the most liberated, as he scratches the instrument’s wood inside and outside, and pummels the keys in kinetic response to the drummer’s cymbal strokes and hammering percussion. Sanders’ showcase is saved for “Quarto”, but even here he displays his wares without overpowering the others. In sync with Fernández’ high-pitched string-scraping – that replicates saxophone trills – and Edwards’ triple-stopping bowing, the drummer reverberates pops and paradiddles on cymbals, toms and snares, while thwacking his bass drum. With Edwards buzzing his strings in a spiccato manner and Fernández using pedal action to push his drones to an equivalent timbre, the three finally bond.

Pianism at its most assured, Fernández and associates bring complementary skills to the aural sound pictures.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Germinal: 1. Volutas 2. Hojarasca 3. Arcano 4. Es la nieve sobre et mar 5. Hidromiel 6. Capaz de luz

Personnel: Germinal: Augustí Fernández (piano) and Ingar Zach (percussion)

Track Listing: llamp: 1. Primo 2. Secondo 3. Tertio 4. Quarto

Personnel: llamp: Augustí Fernández (piano); John Edwards (bass) and Mark Sanders (drums)

September 26, 2009

Robert Dick-Steve Baczkowski-Ravi Padmanabha

Doh Tala
Epoch Music No #

Ute Völker-Angelika Sheridan

Leuchtfische

Valve Records Valve # 6087

Esteban Algora/Alessandra Rombolá/Ingar Zach

… de las piedras

Another Timbre at09

Adventurous flute players, recorded in different configurations, unite the bands on these discs, which collectively plumb the timbres available when contrasting unusual tones from unexpected instrumental groupings. Anything but standard flute fare, each has something to offer the adventurous fripple fancier.

Dean of experimental flautists, New York’s Robert Dick is featured on Doh Tala in a first-time meeting with two younger Buffalo musicians: reedist Steve Baczkowski and percussionist Ravi Padmanabha. Doh Tala mixes a soupçon of Indian music with Free Music. In contrast, negotiating the fine line between improvised and notated New music, is Leuchtfische by the six-year-old duo of Köln-based flautist Angelika Sheridan and Wuppertal-based accordionist Ute Völker. Völker, a founder of the Partita Radicale ensemble is also one of the literally hundreds of musicians who has concretized with Dick.

Utilizing some instruments used on the other sessions, but less geographically homogenous is … de las piedras. Italian flautist Alessandra Rombolá usually plays so-called classical music, though she has recorded with the No spaghetti edition ensemble and with harpist Rhodri Davis. Madrid-based Esteban Algora, first-call accordionist for contemporary music in Spain, plays with a clutch of symphony orchestras and is part of a long-standing duo with Rombolá. Norwegian drummer Ingar Zach is in bands as dissimilar as the improv power-trio Huntsville and the large No spaghetti edition ensemble.

Transmogrifying the Carnatic influence in spite of Padmanabha’s bell-shaking, tabla vibrating and tambura drones on Doh Tala, Dick’s flute obbligato is resolutely western even while creating folkloric bansuri-like tones. The master of multi-directional glissandi, the flautist’s tone is alternately staccato and smooth, with obtuse and contrapuntal voicing there to trade licks with Baczkowski. The later, who mostly sticks to pedal-point rumblings from the baritone saxophone, at points adds higher-pitched trills from smaller reeds as well as twanging passages on a Jew’s harp approximation. The reedist’s extended techniques have conventional homologues a well, as when his thick split tones intertwine with Dick’s cross-pulsed and popped air ripples. At points bringing out his bass flute for echoing grumbles, Dick sounds more comfortable playing higher-pitched, narrower trills.

Rappelling watery lines southwards on some tracks, the flautist is also met by clock-like clangs and tambura thumps from Padmanabha. Ready at all times with gongs and other miscellaneous occidental percussion as well as his beat collection from the sub-continent, Padmanabha’s percussive smarts are often displayed with swipes, whacks, rolls and bounces – not to mention some South Asian rhythmic chanting.

Perhaps the best example of trio cooperation appears on “Qunatum”. Baczkowski’s tongue-stops and within-the-body tube timbres vibrate contrapuntally as the flautist growls out splintered multiphonics. As Dick’s wriggling lines are transformed into audacious impressionism, the saxman turns to slide-whistle intimations as Padmanabha rolls and slaps his drums, wood blocks and cymbals. Reaching a crescendo of electronic-styled crackles and distortion, the triple improvising disintegrates into silence, but not before Baczkowski achieves a split-tone climax.

Introducing a chordal instrument to the interface on Leuchtfische, in essence allows Völker to manufacture a space for Sheridan’s harsh, flute glissandi. Throughout the baker’s dozen of tracks, the two frequently also switch roles. Utilizing her instrument’s buttons and bellows, the accordionist modifies her position from one creating ostinato percussive momentum to one adding rococo coloration to the flautist’s broad breath control. Glissing from the one end to the other of her range, Sheridan moves from basso-engorged tongue stops at points to near-vocalized lyrical bites elsewhere.

Kinetic in her responses and mercurial in her improvisations, Völker’s strategies skirt lugubrious stopping with pitch-sliding abrasions, preferring to define her role with gradually swelling dynamics leavened with pin-pointed jabs. Sharp, pointillist pitch extensions or fluid rumbles from the flautist are often colored with pumping, cumulative chords. Adding bellow-driven textures from Volksmusik as well as New music, the accordionist wraps up many an improv with rubato and descriptive chords.

Adding the percussion discursiveness from Zach’s bass drum and percussion – as well as the natural reverb of Urueña’s accordion, the Madrid-based trio multiples the textures available on … de las piedras. A high percentage of the beats Padmanabha reaches for on the other session are approximated by Zach, who additionally sounds vibraharp-like strokes from carefully arranged floor tiles. As long-standing a duo as Völker-Sheridan, Algora-Rombolá brings similar invention – plus and cohesion – to their interaction.

This is shown to best advantage on “alabastro”, when ostinato accordion tones pulse while minimalist flute vibrations rebound off the location’s ceiling. Bellow-driven loops from Algora continue to fabricate the bottom as strident cymbal scrapes and flute shrilling expand the room’s spectral qualities by multiplying audible nodes and overtones. Additional polyphony arises when blurry bass flute glissandi slope across swelling accordion rumbles and the drummer highlights drags and drones.

Auxiliary kinetic textures are added to the mix on “turmalina” when Zach whacks a mixture of cymbals, tiles, ratchets and drum tops. A pedal-point accordion base gives the percussionist the freedom to configure the sounds to complement the others’ sonic flights. Eventually with an aural resemblance to a motor chugging to a halt, the piece ends.

Austere when necessary and with intimations of baroque tinctures elsewhere, this group – like the other two – redefines the chamber ensemble. None can be pigeonholed, but all can be appreciated.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Doh: 1. Lunar 2. Epoch 3. Boarding 4. Doh Tala 5. Moors 6. Qunatum 7. Tracking 8. Centripical 9. Mourn 10. Inert Puja

Personnel: Doh: Robert Dick (flutes); Steve Baczkowski (baritone saxophone and reeds) and Ravi Padmanabha (drums, tabla and other percussion)

Track Listing: Leuchtfische: 1. bathyphilum 2. nimbaria 3. taenia 4. obtusirostra 5. blackfordi 6. denudatum 7. argenteus 8. ovatus 9. elongata 10. microdon 11. pedaliota 12. corytheola 13. andriashevi

Personnel: Leuchtfische: Angelika Sheridan (flutes) and Ute Völker (accordion)

Track Listing: Piedras: 1. ámbar 2. alabastro 3. galena 4. turmalina 5. jade 6. amatista

Personnel: Piedras: Alessandra Rombolá (flutes and tiles installation); Esteban Algora (accordion) and Ingar Zach (bass drum and percussion)

April 28, 2009

Esteban Algora/Alessandra Rombolá/Ingar Zach

… de las piedras
Another Timbre at09

Robert Dick-Steve Baczkowski-Ravi Padmanabha

Doh Tala

Epoch Music No #

Ute Völker-Angelika Sheridan

Leuchtfische

Valve Records Valve # 6087

Adventurous flute players, recorded in different configurations, unite the bands on these discs, which collectively plumb the timbres available when contrasting unusual tones from unexpected instrumental groupings. Anything but standard flute fare, each has something to offer the adventurous fripple fancier.

Dean of experimental flautists, New York’s Robert Dick is featured on Doh Tala in a first-time meeting with two younger Buffalo musicians: reedist Steve Baczkowski and percussionist Ravi Padmanabha. Doh Tala mixes a soupçon of Indian music with Free Music. In contrast, negotiating the fine line between improvised and notated New music, is Leuchtfische by the six-year-old duo of Köln-based flautist Angelika Sheridan and Wuppertal-based accordionist Ute Völker. Völker, a founder of the Partita Radicale ensemble is also one of the literally hundreds of musicians who has concretized with Dick.

Utilizing some instruments used on the other sessions, but less geographically homogenous is … de las piedras. Italian flautist Alessandra Rombolá usually plays so-called classical music, though she has recorded with the No spaghetti edition ensemble and with harpist Rhodri Davis. Madrid-based Esteban Algora, first-call accordionist for contemporary music in Spain, plays with a clutch of symphony orchestras and is part of a long-standing duo with Rombolá. Norwegian drummer Ingar Zach is in bands as dissimilar as the improv power-trio Huntsville and the large No spaghetti edition ensemble.

Transmogrifying the Carnatic influence in spite of Padmanabha’s bell-shaking, tabla vibrating and tambura drones on Doh Tala, Dick’s flute obbligato is resolutely western even while creating folkloric bansuri-like tones. The master of multi-directional glissandi, the flautist’s tone is alternately staccato and smooth, with obtuse and contrapuntal voicing there to trade licks with Baczkowski. The later, who mostly sticks to pedal-point rumblings from the baritone saxophone, at points adds higher-pitched trills from smaller reeds as well as twanging passages on a Jew’s harp approximation. The reedist’s extended techniques have conventional homologues a well, as when his thick split tones intertwine with Dick’s cross-pulsed and popped air ripples. At points bringing out his bass flute for echoing grumbles, Dick sounds more comfortable playing higher-pitched, narrower trills.

Rappelling watery lines southwards on some tracks, the flautist is also met by clock-like clangs and tambura thumps from Padmanabha. Ready at all times with gongs and other miscellaneous occidental percussion as well as his beat collection from the sub-continent, Padmanabha’s percussive smarts are often displayed with swipes, whacks, rolls and bounces – not to mention some South Asian rhythmic chanting.

Perhaps the best example of trio cooperation appears on “Qunatum”. Baczkowski’s tongue-stops and within-the-body tube timbres vibrate contrapuntally as the flautist growls out splintered multiphonics. As Dick’s wriggling lines are transformed into audacious impressionism, the saxman turns to slide-whistle intimations as Padmanabha rolls and slaps his drums, wood blocks and cymbals. Reaching a crescendo of electronic-styled crackles and distortion, the triple improvising disintegrates into silence, but not before Baczkowski achieves a split-tone climax.

Introducing a chordal instrument to the interface on Leuchtfische, in essence allows Völker to manufacture a space for Sheridan’s harsh, flute glissandi. Throughout the baker’s dozen of tracks, the two frequently also switch roles. Utilizing her instrument’s buttons and bellows, the accordionist modifies her position from one creating ostinato percussive momentum to one adding rococo coloration to the flautist’s broad breath control. Glissing from the one end to the other of her range, Sheridan moves from basso-engorged tongue stops at points to near-vocalized lyrical bites elsewhere.

Kinetic in her responses and mercurial in her improvisations, Völker’s strategies skirt lugubrious stopping with pitch-sliding abrasions, preferring to define her role with gradually swelling dynamics leavened with pin-pointed jabs. Sharp, pointillist pitch extensions or fluid rumbles from the flautist are often colored with pumping, cumulative chords. Adding bellow-driven textures from Volksmusik as well as New music, the accordionist wraps up many an improv with rubato and descriptive chords.

Adding the percussion discursiveness from Zach’s bass drum and percussion – as well as the natural reverb of Urueña’s accordion, the Madrid-based trio multiples the textures available on … de las piedras. A high percentage of the beats Padmanabha reaches for on the other session are approximated by Zach, who additionally sounds vibraharp-like strokes from carefully arranged floor tiles. As long-standing a duo as Völker-Sheridan, Algora-Rombolá brings similar invention – plus and cohesion – to their interaction.

This is shown to best advantage on “alabastro”, when ostinato accordion tones pulse while minimalist flute vibrations rebound off the location’s ceiling. Bellow-driven loops from Algora continue to fabricate the bottom as strident cymbal scrapes and flute shrilling expand the room’s spectral qualities by multiplying audible nodes and overtones. Additional polyphony arises when blurry bass flute glissandi slope across swelling accordion rumbles and the drummer highlights drags and drones.

Auxiliary kinetic textures are added to the mix on “turmalina” when Zach whacks a mixture of cymbals, tiles, ratchets and drum tops. A pedal-point accordion base gives the percussionist the freedom to configure the sounds to complement the others’ sonic flights. Eventually with an aural resemblance to a motor chugging to a halt, the piece ends.

Austere when necessary and with intimations of baroque tinctures elsewhere, this group – like the other two – redefines the chamber ensemble. None can be pigeonholed, but all can be appreciated.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Doh: 1. Lunar 2. Epoch 3. Boarding 4. Doh Tala 5. Moors 6. Qunatum 7. Tracking 8. Centripical 9. Mourn 10. Inert Puja

Personnel: Doh: Robert Dick (flutes); Steve Baczkowski (baritone saxophone and reeds) and Ravi Padmanabha (drums, tabla and other percussion)

Track Listing: Leuchtfische: 1. bathyphilum 2. nimbaria 3. taenia 4. obtusirostra 5. blackfordi 6. denudatum 7. argenteus 8. ovatus 9. elongata 10. microdon 11. pedaliota 12. corytheola 13. andriashevi

Personnel: Leuchtfische: Angelika Sheridan (flutes) and Ute Völker (accordion)

Track Listing: Piedras: 1. ámbar 2. alabastro 3. galena 4. turmalina 5. jade 6. amatista

Personnel: Piedras: Alessandra Rombolá (flutes and tiles installation); Esteban Algora (accordion) and Ingar Zach (bass drum and percussion)

April 28, 2009

Ute Völker-Angelika Sheridan

Leuchtfische
Valve Records Valve # 6087

Esteban Algora/Alessandra Rombolá/Ingar Zach

… de las piedras

Another Timbre at09

Robert Dick-Steve Baczkowski-Ravi Padmanabha

Doh Tala

Epoch Music No #

Adventurous flute players, recorded in different configurations, unite the bands on these discs, which collectively plumb the timbres available when contrasting unusual tones from unexpected instrumental groupings. Anything but standard flute fare, each has something to offer the adventurous fripple fancier.

Dean of experimental flautists, New York’s Robert Dick is featured on Doh Tala in a first-time meeting with two younger Buffalo musicians: reedist Steve Baczkowski and percussionist Ravi Padmanabha. Doh Tala mixes a soupçon of Indian music with Free Music. In contrast, negotiating the fine line between improvised and notated New music, is Leuchtfische by the six-year-old duo of Köln-based flautist Angelika Sheridan and Wuppertal-based accordionist Ute Völker. Völker, a founder of the Partita Radicale ensemble is also one of the literally hundreds of musicians who has concretized with Dick.

Utilizing some instruments used on the other sessions, but less geographically homogenous is … de las piedras. Italian flautist Alessandra Rombolá usually plays so-called classical music, though she has recorded with the No spaghetti edition ensemble and with harpist Rhodri Davis. Madrid-based Esteban Algora, first-call accordionist for contemporary music in Spain, plays with a clutch of symphony orchestras and is part of a long-standing duo with Rombolá. Norwegian drummer Ingar Zach is in bands as dissimilar as the improv power-trio Huntsville and the large No spaghetti edition ensemble.

Transmogrifying the Carnatic influence in spite of Padmanabha’s bell-shaking, tabla vibrating and tambura drones on Doh Tala, Dick’s flute obbligato is resolutely western even while creating folkloric bansuri-like tones. The master of multi-directional glissandi, the flautist’s tone is alternately staccato and smooth, with obtuse and contrapuntal voicing there to trade licks with Baczkowski. The later, who mostly sticks to pedal-point rumblings from the baritone saxophone, at points adds higher-pitched trills from smaller reeds as well as twanging passages on a Jew’s harp approximation. The reedist’s extended techniques have conventional homologues a well, as when his thick split tones intertwine with Dick’s cross-pulsed and popped air ripples. At points bringing out his bass flute for echoing grumbles, Dick sounds more comfortable playing higher-pitched, narrower trills.

Rappelling watery lines southwards on some tracks, the flautist is also met by clock-like clangs and tambura thumps from Padmanabha. Ready at all times with gongs and other miscellaneous occidental percussion as well as his beat collection from the sub-continent, Padmanabha’s percussive smarts are often displayed with swipes, whacks, rolls and bounces – not to mention some South Asian rhythmic chanting.

Perhaps the best example of trio cooperation appears on “Qunatum”. Baczkowski’s tongue-stops and within-the-body tube timbres vibrate contrapuntally as the flautist growls out splintered multiphonics. As Dick’s wriggling lines are transformed into audacious impressionism, the saxman turns to slide-whistle intimations as Padmanabha rolls and slaps his drums, wood blocks and cymbals. Reaching a crescendo of electronic-styled crackles and distortion, the triple improvising disintegrates into silence, but not before Baczkowski achieves a split-tone climax.

Introducing a chordal instrument to the interface on Leuchtfische, in essence allows Völker to manufacture a space for Sheridan’s harsh, flute glissandi. Throughout the baker’s dozen of tracks, the two frequently also switch roles. Utilizing her instrument’s buttons and bellows, the accordionist modifies her position from one creating ostinato percussive momentum to one adding rococo coloration to the flautist’s broad breath control. Glissing from the one end to the other of her range, Sheridan moves from basso-engorged tongue stops at points to near-vocalized lyrical bites elsewhere.

Kinetic in her responses and mercurial in her improvisations, Völker’s strategies skirt lugubrious stopping with pitch-sliding abrasions, preferring to define her role with gradually swelling dynamics leavened with pin-pointed jabs. Sharp, pointillist pitch extensions or fluid rumbles from the flautist are often colored with pumping, cumulative chords. Adding bellow-driven textures from Volksmusik as well as New music, the accordionist wraps up many an improv with rubato and descriptive chords.

Adding the percussion discursiveness from Zach’s bass drum and percussion – as well as the natural reverb of Urueña’s accordion, the Madrid-based trio multiples the textures available on … de las piedras. A high percentage of the beats Padmanabha reaches for on the other session are approximated by Zach, who additionally sounds vibraharp-like strokes from carefully arranged floor tiles. As long-standing a duo as Völker-Sheridan, Algora-Rombolá brings similar invention – plus and cohesion – to their interaction.

This is shown to best advantage on “alabastro”, when ostinato accordion tones pulse while minimalist flute vibrations rebound off the location’s ceiling. Bellow-driven loops from Algora continue to fabricate the bottom as strident cymbal scrapes and flute shrilling expand the room’s spectral qualities by multiplying audible nodes and overtones. Additional polyphony arises when blurry bass flute glissandi slope across swelling accordion rumbles and the drummer highlights drags and drones.

Auxiliary kinetic textures are added to the mix on “turmalina” when Zach whacks a mixture of cymbals, tiles, ratchets and drum tops. A pedal-point accordion base gives the percussionist the freedom to configure the sounds to complement the others’ sonic flights. Eventually with an aural resemblance to a motor chugging to a halt, the piece ends.

Austere when necessary and with intimations of baroque tinctures elsewhere, this group – like the other two – redefines the chamber ensemble. None can be pigeonholed, but all can be appreciated.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Doh: 1. Lunar 2. Epoch 3. Boarding 4. Doh Tala 5. Moors 6. Qunatum 7. Tracking 8. Centripical 9. Mourn 10. Inert Puja

Personnel: Doh: Robert Dick (flutes); Steve Baczkowski (baritone saxophone and reeds) and Ravi Padmanabha (drums, tabla and other percussion)

Track Listing: Leuchtfische: 1. bathyphilum 2. nimbaria 3. taenia 4. obtusirostra 5. blackfordi 6. denudatum 7. argenteus 8. ovatus 9. elongata 10. microdon 11. pedaliota 12. corytheola 13. andriashevi

Personnel: Leuchtfische: Angelika Sheridan (flutes) and Ute Völker (accordion)

Track Listing: Piedras: 1. ámbar 2. alabastro 3. galena 4. turmalina 5. jade 6. amatista

Personnel: Piedras: Alessandra Rombolá (flutes and tiles installation); Esteban Algora (accordion) and Ingar Zach (bass drum and percussion)

April 28, 2009

Eivind Buene

Asymmetrical Music
SOFA 523

More antiphonal than asymmetrical, Norwegian composer Eivind Buene’s nine-part double concerto juxtaposes two soloists’ improvisations within the stricture of a 12-piece chamber ensemble playing a notated score. Its success results not only from the bravura styling of percussionist Ingar Zach and Ivar Grydeland on guitar and banjo, but also from the sonic tension engendered from the backing group’s use of such non-standard chamber instruments as electric guitar, Fender Rhodes and bagpipes – as well as the expected strings and horns.

With the broken octave theme as an anchor, this tripled polyphony is toyed with and foreshadowed earlier on, then fulfilled at mid-point. Above a groundswell of massed, vibrating strings and puffing horns, Grydeland initially concentrates his strums and picking in the foreground as Zach abrasively pops and smacks abrasive surfaces. Reaching a climax with “Asymmetrical music V” and “VI”, intentions turn to elaborations as claw-hammer banjo lick become chromatic chording and the stolid percussion raps intensify to include rotated buzzes and scratches. Counterbalance is provided by, flat-line string obbligato, soon superseded by a melding of strummed electric piano, cymbal clacks, rim-shot reverb and thumping bass lines: the equivalent of a Free Jazz trio.

Unique elements are added in the final section as the music takes on processional qualities, with timbres resembling those of a radung’s blare and a pipa’s resonation. Tension-release is eventually achieved as choppy piano chords and contrapuntal marimba strokes intersect with conclusive guitar licks and measured drum beats.

This Asymmetrical Music may be irregular. Yet despite the title, it’s not lopsided but lucid.

-- Ken Waxman

-- MusicWorks Issue #103

March 28, 2009

Rhodri Davies

Over shadows
Confront 16

Rhodri Davies/Matt Davis/Samantha Rebello/Bechir Saade

Hum

Another Timbre at04

MUTA

Yesterday Night You Were Sleeping at My Place

Sofa 522

Chamber improv of a particular sort, each of these challenging discs highlights the playing of Welsh harpist Rhodri Davies: solo or as part of a trio or quartet. Although included among the instruments featured on the discs are flutes, a bass clarinet, a trumpet and percussion, a minimal number of expected timbres are heard. Full appreciation of the sessions demands a preference for dissonance as well as unconventionality.

Recorded nearly a year apart, both group improvisations still have a tenuous connection. The title and track titles of MUTA, created with Norwegian percussionist Ingar Zach and Spanish flautist Alessandra Rombolà, come from the drawings of Beirut-based trumpeter Mazen Kerbaj. A decidedly less programmatic outing, Hum links Davies’ harp and objects to the bass clarinet tones of Bechir Saade, a Lebanese improviser who often plays with Kerbaj. The other participants are British: trumpeter and electronics processor Matt Davis, who has explored microtones in a trio with cellist Mark Wastell and Davies among others; and flautist Samantha Rebello, a graduate of percussionist Eddie Prévost’s weekly improv workshops.

Providing a reductionist Euro version of near-silent Onkyo music, the seven improvisations are built up from unrelenting electronic drones from Davies and Zach, the later of whom exposes these pulsations by attaching contact mikes to his two bass drums and a gong. Meanwhile Rombolà concentrates on altissimo shrills or basso echoes from her conventional and prepared flutes.

Possibly extending his options with piezo pickups among his strings, the harpist varies his output with triggering buzzes and staccato rubs while rasping along and pulling on his string set. Throughout Davies makes common cause with Zach, whose electronic add-ons create a spinning wheel of repeated clicks, clanks and ruffs. Simultaneously and acoustically, the percussionist’s other movements produce bell peals, glass armonica-like reverberations and carefully positioned drum-top scrapes.

Between the harpist’s pitch-sliding electronic whooshes and the percussionist’s fluid friction the resulting drone undulates consistently, but with enough variation in pitch to banish sameness. Abandoning the incursion of sampled voices on one track, the sonic waves are most usually pierced by air column note clusters, stopped breaths, high-pitched whistles and trilling glissandi from the flautist.

Flute trills, blows, flutters and peeps feature on Hum as well. But the intermittent hum from harpist Davies’ so-called objects and trumpeter Davis’ electronics somewhat masks the two other oral instruments’ output. Furthermore spluttering buzzes often swell to fortissimo tones then disappear, sometimes sounding as if an on-off switch has been activated or as if a door in a horror-movie is swinging open noisily, then being quickly and squeakily closed. Foreshortened pauses are the only spaces in which the acoustic instruments can emphasize their natural timbres.

Moist tonguing from Davis produces some squeezed chromatic warbles and growling, while Rebello’s almost pan-like flute echoes open up into peeps and flutters. But both seem to have a hard time separating their tones from among the ululating mix. In fact it’s Saade’s tongue slaps, extended breaths through his horn’s body tube and key scraping that are most prominent.

Davies’ thumps, plucks and snaps are infrequently distinguishable from within the shifting, blurry electronic loops. But with this minimalistic project non-hierarchical and modest – even the tracks are prosaically named “One”, “Two”… etc. – perhaps the compression of four sounds into one constantly shifting solid should be heard as Hum’s fulfillment.

Obviously the harpist has more scope on the remaining CD, which was actually recorded four years ago. But even here, during the course of its one 36-minute track, triggered drones are as prominent as any jagged harp plucks. Throughout, his output ululates densely enough so that not only does it become an impermeable, persistent, but controlled pitch, but affiliated overtones are also sounded. Still, listening is at times the aural equivalent of watching a photograph develop in an old-fashioned darkroom. With the paper saturated in the solution, various highlights and gradations of the image appear at different junctures.

Evolving from connective organ-like sequences exposed timbres ramp up to fortissimo, pummel at lightening speed to pianissimo and finally transform into unsteady oscillations. With the end result simultaneously polytonal and inchoate, it’s as if a spectral neutral instrument and its wave forms are on show – not a harp.

By the ultimate variation, the augmented drone diminishes to a near flat-line before boomeranging back to fullness for the finale of cross-panned reverberating shrills.

Putting aside sonic preconceptions should allow any one of these CDs to impress adventurous listeners.

-- Ken Waxman

.

Track Listing: Over: 1. Over Shadows

Personnel: Over: Rhodri Davies (harp, ebow and electronics)

Track Listing: Hum: 1. One 2. Two 3. Three 4. Four 5. Five

Personnel: Hum: Matt Davis (trumpet and electronics); Samantha Rebello (flute); Bechir Saade (bass clarinet) and Rhodri Davies (harp and objects)

Track Listing: Yesterday: 1. Hamida 2. Birds wake up, we go to sleep 3. Dead Time 4. Passing Time 5. Vertical Time 6. Coffee and Brain 7. Daylight Black

Personnel: Yesterday: Alessandra Rombolà (convensional and prepared flutes); Rhodri Davies (amplified harp and electronics) and Ingar Zach (percussion and electronic devices)

April 13, 2008

Rhodri Davies/Matt Davis/Samantha Rebello/Bechir Saade

Hum
Another Timbre at04

MUTA

Yesterday Night You Were Sleeping at My Place

Sofa 522

Rhodri Davies

Over shadows

Confront 16

Chamber improv of a particular sort, each of these challenging discs highlights the playing of Welsh harpist Rhodri Davies: solo or as part of a trio or quartet. Although included among the instruments featured on the discs are flutes, a bass clarinet, a trumpet and percussion, a minimal number of expected timbres are heard. Full appreciation of the sessions demands a preference for dissonance as well as unconventionality.

Recorded nearly a year apart, both group improvisations still have a tenuous connection. The title and track titles of MUTA, created with Norwegian percussionist Ingar Zach and Spanish flautist Alessandra Rombolà, come from the drawings of Beirut-based trumpeter Mazen Kerbaj. A decidedly less programmatic outing, Hum links Davies’ harp and objects to the bass clarinet tones of Bechir Saade, a Lebanese improviser who often plays with Kerbaj. The other participants are British: trumpeter and electronics processor Matt Davis, who has explored microtones in a trio with cellist Mark Wastell and Davies among others; and flautist Samantha Rebello, a graduate of percussionist Eddie Prévost’s weekly improv workshops.

Providing a reductionist Euro version of near-silent Onkyo music, the seven improvisations are built up from unrelenting electronic drones from Davies and Zach, the later of whom exposes these pulsations by attaching contact mikes to his two bass drums and a gong. Meanwhile Rombolà concentrates on altissimo shrills or basso echoes from her conventional and prepared flutes.

Possibly extending his options with piezo pickups among his strings, the harpist varies his output with triggering buzzes and staccato rubs while rasping along and pulling on his string set. Throughout Davies makes common cause with Zach, whose electronic add-ons create a spinning wheel of repeated clicks, clanks and ruffs. Simultaneously and acoustically, the percussionist’s other movements produce bell peals, glass armonica-like reverberations and carefully positioned drum-top scrapes.

Between the harpist’s pitch-sliding electronic whooshes and the percussionist’s fluid friction the resulting drone undulates consistently, but with enough variation in pitch to banish sameness. Abandoning the incursion of sampled voices on one track, the sonic waves are most usually pierced by air column note clusters, stopped breaths, high-pitched whistles and trilling glissandi from the flautist.

Flute trills, blows, flutters and peeps feature on Hum as well. But the intermittent hum from harpist Davies’ so-called objects and trumpeter Davis’ electronics somewhat masks the two other oral instruments’ output. Furthermore spluttering buzzes often swell to fortissimo tones then disappear, sometimes sounding as if an on-off switch has been activated or as if a door in a horror-movie is swinging open noisily, then being quickly and squeakily closed. Foreshortened pauses are the only spaces in which the acoustic instruments can emphasize their natural timbres.

Moist tonguing from Davis produces some squeezed chromatic warbles and growling, while Rebello’s almost pan-like flute echoes open up into peeps and flutters. But both seem to have a hard time separating their tones from among the ululating mix. In fact it’s Saade’s tongue slaps, extended breaths through his horn’s body tube and key scraping that are most prominent.

Davies’ thumps, plucks and snaps are infrequently distinguishable from within the shifting, blurry electronic loops. But with this minimalistic project non-hierarchical and modest – even the tracks are prosaically named “One”, “Two”… etc. – perhaps the compression of four sounds into one constantly shifting solid should be heard as Hum’s fulfillment.

Obviously the harpist has more scope on the remaining CD, which was actually recorded four years ago. But even here, during the course of its one 36-minute track, triggered drones are as prominent as any jagged harp plucks. Throughout, his output ululates densely enough so that not only does it become an impermeable, persistent, but controlled pitch, but affiliated overtones are also sounded. Still, listening is at times the aural equivalent of watching a photograph develop in an old-fashioned darkroom. With the paper saturated in the solution, various highlights and gradations of the image appear at different junctures.

Evolving from connective organ-like sequences exposed timbres ramp up to fortissimo, pummel at lightening speed to pianissimo and finally transform into unsteady oscillations. With the end result simultaneously polytonal and inchoate, it’s as if a spectral neutral instrument and its wave forms are on show – not a harp.

By the ultimate variation, the augmented drone diminishes to a near flat-line before boomeranging back to fullness for the finale of cross-panned reverberating shrills.

Putting aside sonic preconceptions should allow any one of these CDs to impress adventurous listeners.

-- Ken Waxman

.

Track Listing: Over: 1. Over Shadows

Personnel: Over: Rhodri Davies (harp, ebow and electronics)

Track Listing: Hum: 1. One 2. Two 3. Three 4. Four 5. Five

Personnel: Hum: Matt Davis (trumpet and electronics); Samantha Rebello (flute); Bechir Saade (bass clarinet) and Rhodri Davies (harp and objects)

Track Listing: Yesterday: 1. Hamida 2. Birds wake up, we go to sleep 3. Dead Time 4. Passing Time 5. Vertical Time 6. Coffee and Brain 7. Daylight Black

Personnel: Yesterday: Alessandra Rombolà (convensional and prepared flutes); Rhodri Davies (amplified harp and electronics) and Ingar Zach (percussion and electronic devices)

April 13, 2008

MUTA

Yesterday Night You Were Sleeping at My Place
Sofa 522

Rhodri Davies

Over shadows

Confront 16

Rhodri Davies/Matt Davis/Samantha Rebello/Bechir Saade

Hum

Another Timbre at04

Chamber improv of a particular sort, each of these challenging discs highlights the playing of Welsh harpist Rhodri Davies: solo or as part of a trio or quartet. Although included among the instruments featured on the discs are flutes, a bass clarinet, a trumpet and percussion, a minimal number of expected timbres are heard. Full appreciation of the sessions demands a preference for dissonance as well as unconventionality.

Recorded nearly a year apart, both group improvisations still have a tenuous connection. The title and track titles of MUTA, created with Norwegian percussionist Ingar Zach and Spanish flautist Alessandra Rombolà, come from the drawings of Beirut-based trumpeter Mazen Kerbaj. A decidedly less programmatic outing, Hum links Davies’ harp and objects to the bass clarinet tones of Bechir Saade, a Lebanese improviser who often plays with Kerbaj. The other participants are British: trumpeter and electronics processor Matt Davis, who has explored microtones in a trio with cellist Mark Wastell and Davies among others; and flautist Samantha Rebello, a graduate of percussionist Eddie Prévost’s weekly improv workshops.

Providing a reductionist Euro version of near-silent Onkyo music, the seven improvisations are built up from unrelenting electronic drones from Davies and Zach, the later of whom exposes these pulsations by attaching contact mikes to his two bass drums and a gong. Meanwhile Rombolà concentrates on altissimo shrills or basso echoes from her conventional and prepared flutes.

Possibly extending his options with piezo pickups among his strings, the harpist varies his output with triggering buzzes and staccato rubs while rasping along and pulling on his string set. Throughout Davies makes common cause with Zach, whose electronic add-ons create a spinning wheel of repeated clicks, clanks and ruffs. Simultaneously and acoustically, the percussionist’s other movements produce bell peals, glass armonica-like reverberations and carefully positioned drum-top scrapes.

Between the harpist’s pitch-sliding electronic whooshes and the percussionist’s fluid friction the resulting drone undulates consistently, but with enough variation in pitch to banish sameness. Abandoning the incursion of sampled voices on one track, the sonic waves are most usually pierced by air column note clusters, stopped breaths, high-pitched whistles and trilling glissandi from the flautist.

Flute trills, blows, flutters and peeps feature on Hum as well. But the intermittent hum from harpist Davies’ so-called objects and trumpeter Davis’ electronics somewhat masks the two other oral instruments’ output. Furthermore spluttering buzzes often swell to fortissimo tones then disappear, sometimes sounding as if an on-off switch has been activated or as if a door in a horror-movie is swinging open noisily, then being quickly and squeakily closed. Foreshortened pauses are the only spaces in which the acoustic instruments can emphasize their natural timbres.

Moist tonguing from Davis produces some squeezed chromatic warbles and growling, while Rebello’s almost pan-like flute echoes open up into peeps and flutters. But both seem to have a hard time separating their tones from among the ululating mix. In fact it’s Saade’s tongue slaps, extended breaths through his horn’s body tube and key scraping that are most prominent.

Davies’ thumps, plucks and snaps are infrequently distinguishable from within the shifting, blurry electronic loops. But with this minimalistic project non-hierarchical and modest – even the tracks are prosaically named “One”, “Two”… etc. – perhaps the compression of four sounds into one constantly shifting solid should be heard as Hum’s fulfillment.

Obviously the harpist has more scope on the remaining CD, which was actually recorded four years ago. But even here, during the course of its one 36-minute track, triggered drones are as prominent as any jagged harp plucks. Throughout, his output ululates densely enough so that not only does it become an impermeable, persistent, but controlled pitch, but affiliated overtones are also sounded. Still, listening is at times the aural equivalent of watching a photograph develop in an old-fashioned darkroom. With the paper saturated in the solution, various highlights and gradations of the image appear at different junctures.

Evolving from connective organ-like sequences exposed timbres ramp up to fortissimo, pummel at lightening speed to pianissimo and finally transform into unsteady oscillations. With the end result simultaneously polytonal and inchoate, it’s as if a spectral neutral instrument and its wave forms are on show – not a harp.

By the ultimate variation, the augmented drone diminishes to a near flat-line before boomeranging back to fullness for the finale of cross-panned reverberating shrills.

Putting aside sonic preconceptions should allow any one of these CDs to impress adventurous listeners.

-- Ken Waxman

.

Track Listing: Over: 1. Over Shadows

Personnel: Over: Rhodri Davies (harp, ebow and electronics)

Track Listing: Hum: 1. One 2. Two 3. Three 4. Four 5. Five

Personnel: Hum: Matt Davis (trumpet and electronics); Samantha Rebello (flute); Bechir Saade (bass clarinet) and Rhodri Davies (harp and objects)

Track Listing: Yesterday: 1. Hamida 2. Birds wake up, we go to sleep 3. Dead Time 4. Passing Time 5. Vertical Time 6. Coffee and Brain 7. Daylight Black

Personnel: Yesterday: Alessandra Rombolà (convensional and prepared flutes); Rhodri Davies (amplified harp and electronics) and Ingar Zach (percussion and electronic devices)

April 13, 2008

No Spaghetti Edition

Sketches of a Fusion
SOFA 520

Norway’s ever-changing No Spaghetti Edition adds trans-oceanic, cross-cultural musical input on its fourth release with the small electronic instruments and turntables of Québécois Martin Tétreault.

Additionally, the pulsating, microtonal sound world generated by extended techniques from the band’s acoustic core – Norwegians percussionist Ingar Zach, bassist Tonny Kluften and Ivar Grydeland on banjo and guitar – is embellished still further by smeared, minimalist vibrations from French clarinetist and harmonica player Xavier Charles, on his second outing in the group, and another new recruit, local pianist Christian Wallumrød.

Established in the translucent, folk-inflected Scandinavian jazz and notated scenes, here Wallumrød concentrates on metronomic percussiveness, encompassing stopped and struck internal strings plus bulky pedal pressure. Coupled with the buzzing static, bell-pealing and bird-like cackles from Tétreault’s decks and Charles’ wheezing, watery reed squeaks, the core trio’s singular moves protrude sharply from within the blurry clouds of ever-spinning oscillations.

Each of the CD’s two long tracks is given its shape by Grydeland’s string scraping or claw-hammer picking, Kluften appearing to detune his bass as he strokes col legno lines and Zach’s hollow rim shots and drum-top maneuvering. As non-specific timbres that resemble a gas leak, metal objects grinding against one another, and a flapping fan belt hover over the unvarying, electronic drones, the second of two tracks, at 18 minutes – half the length of the first – appears more distinctive, since sonic inferences and, in Tétreault’s case, supplementary textures, are compressed. Free music yoking noise and improvisation, the North American and European overlap creates a notable if challenging fusion.

-- Ken Waxman

-- For CODA Issue 335

October 3, 2007

Rouba3i5

Rouba3i5
Al Maslakh

Mazen Kerbaj and Franz Hautzinger
Abu Tarek
Creative Sources

Franz Hautzinger
Franz Hautzinger's Oriental Space
Artonal

By Ken Waxman
September 18, 2005

Unbeknownst to most, over the past few years Lebanese players have quietly put together the only improvised music scene in the Middle East outside of Israel. Known as the most sophisticated of Arab nations before the disastrous civil war of 1975 to1990 and despite recent political instability, Lebanon is still open to outside influences and that's how a small group of questing players first discovered Free Music a few years ago.

Since that time this same group has organized infrequent local gigs and hosts a yearly improv fest in Beirut. As an outgrowth of this activity, collaborations between Lebanese and outside musicians are beginning to appear on CD, like the three here. Fittingly, each features trumpeter Mazen Kerbaj - also an artist and author - chief cheerleader and coordinator of the nascent scene.

Present as well on Rouba3i5 and Oriental Space is Lebanese guitarist Sharif Sehnaoui, who divides his time between Paris and Beirut and who helps spread the word about local improv. His wife, alto saxophonist Christine Sehnaoui, who plays on the first CD, took part with Kerbaj in Lebanon's first-ever improv gig in 2000.

Outsiders present on all three sessions testify to the Lebanese improvisers' successful outreach program. Oslo-based drummer Ingar Zach, who has worked with people like British guitarist Derek Bailey and bassist Barry Guy came to play at the improv festival and stayed to record Rouba3i5. Viennese trumpeter Franz Hautzinger, who has played with American guitarist Elliott Sharp and British drummer Tony Oxley, met Kerbaj by chance. Since then the two brass explorers have played duo concerts like the one approximated on Abu Tarek in Lebanon and Europe, and work as the Oriental Space quartet adding Sharif Sehnaoui and Vienna-based Helge Hinteregger, who has been part of Chris Burns' Ensemble as a saxophonist, on sampler.

Using only acoustic instruments, the four members of Rouba3i5 create two multi-faceted improvisations that, perhaps unsurprisingly, aren't reminiscent of any Middle Eastern sounds. Most impressive is the shorter - well less than 17 minutes - track, "Bustros Session 2", which, recorded with no cuts and no overdubbing, shows that the four have relaxed into rapprochement.

Launched by a punch from Zach's bass drum, followed by percussive rumbles and accents, the piece modulates into squeaks from the trumpet and tongue slaps from the alto saxophone. S. Sehnaoui then elaborates these statements with buzzing feints and what sounds like a drum stick hitting the front of his strings. Splayed strums then characterize his output as C. Sehnaoui expels cavernous blows and the drummer counters with presto woodpecker-like battering. When Zach transforms those smacks into road drill pressure, the alto squeals as the guitar advances the sort of metallic drones that could emanate from exposed telephone wires. Eventually these pulsations blend into one another, reaching a climax of irregular pitches, sharp oscillations and constricted cries, as Zach delineates an ending with his finger tips rubbing the drum tops.

Earlier, the almost-23-minute first selection is weakened by hushed passages that appear to lose volume due to lack of direction rather than as a stratagem. Luckily this happens infrequently, but some of the output could be a rehearsal for the finer points made in the second track. Oddly enough, C. Sehnaoui seems bolder here, with a catalogue of gestures that take in grace note expansion plus reed pops and tongue slaps. Mixing parakeet-like chirping with altissimo shrills, her sonic space is often invaded by amplifier drones and whammy bar distortions from the guitarist, abrasive scraping and woodpecker patterns from the drummer and bubbling tones and bumpy spetrofluctuation from trumpeter Kerbaj.

With S. Sehnaoui manipulating the only chordal instrument, Oriental Space, recorded in Vienna, reorders the sound priorities. Despite the presence of both Hautzinger and Kerbaj, the session isn't particularly brassy. Since Hinteregger is a saxophonist as well as a sampler player, the sequences introduced to the eight tracks often add pre-recorded extended reed textures to the live instrumental sounds.

Only on the final two selections "Fig Jam". a Lebanese delicacy – and "Later in the Afternoon" do extended samples of mumbling and murmuring male and human voices, take their places among finger-picking guitar runs and fervid brass mouthpiece osculation.

There may also be a snatch of an Arabic songster's voice midway through "In the Afternoon", the first instant composition. But this vocalization is buried beneath plinking guitar pulses, buzzy dual trumpet leads and a panoply of signals from the sampler including organ-like shakes, purported video game themes and what you could swear is the replication of a snooker ball rolling across the felt of a pool table.

Another anomaly is the intro to "Noujoum Funk", which replicates a stylus bumpily connecting to an LP groove. But this tune, like all the others, is designed as a showcase for acoustic instruments not electronics. Operating on top of the guitarist's hand smacks on his strings, the brassmen produce elongated drones, note flurries, choked textures and what appears to be tremolo air circulated through a cylindrical drainpipe.

Half-valve effects and watery bubbling appear on other tracks as the two trumpeters carve out individual territories. One, for instance, extends a single, unvarying buzzy line, while the other bugles a rubato rejoinder. Blocking air and spittle by valve twisting they change the density and tincture of their output. Harmonic concurrence to these prickly excursions is made easier on tunes like "Snow Sensitive Skin" since the concussion of foreign objects against Sehnaoui's strings and the mechanized, ring modulation-like sequences from the sampler redirect attention away from obstructed tubes and towards group expression.

Hautzinger and Kerbaj don't have this luxury on Abu Tarek where they improvise unaccompanied. Recorded in Lebanon, as was Rouba3i5, the disc highlights the density, volume and colors of two probing brass players. Impressionistic, at time the brass interchange takes on a jazzy subtext, although no one would confuse this CD for those 1950s Verve dates where Dizzy Gillespie and Roy Eldridge jousted musically.

With the nine tracks ranging from less than three to less than 7½ minutes, the two provide in condensed form a compendium of the procedures they mix with guitar and sampler textures on Oriental Space.

These take many forms. For example they can produce wet-sounding, rolling tongue thwacks, then turn their bells into cymbals as they beat on the metal while blowing through the lead pipe. Bugle-like calls take shape, but with sharp edges; strangled actions block pitches and broken octave grace notes are let loose. Barking, footstep-patterning tones and tongue fluttering are heard; as is air pushed through the instrument without valve movement.

Howls and whines plus animal-like whimpering are followed by throttled valve twisting that reveal sounds burrowed deep inside the horn. Elsewhere, a minimalist exercise in bubbled lip action and thwarted air pressure suddenly bursts forth with liberating wah-wahs and triumphant yelps.

Overall, Abu Tarek is most memorable when roles are divided and off-loaded. One trumpeter, for instance, plays a translucent note as the other fashions whinnying, desperate cries. Pedal point continuum is one's strategy as the other vibrates pitches concentrated with a blocked water key. Sibilant stops face off with valve percussion, and quick watery tones turn to foghorn breaths from the other hornman.

Free improvisation in Lebanon seems to be heading for international recognition as its partisans discover a characteristic originality in their playing and composing. Perhaps one day, musical happenings in Beirut will occupy the same space in the arts section of newspapers as its political events do on the news pages.

September 18, 2005

WILL GUTHRIE

Building Blocks
Antboy Music

INGAR ZACH
Percussion Music
SOFA

VARIOUS ARTISTS
Berlin drums
Absinth

By Ken Waxman

September 14, 2004

Antipodean and Northern European drummers are the focus of these essays in solo percussion. But the sociology of why these particular stick men should choose to go it alone is not part of this study. What is generic is how similarly -- and how differently -- six improvisers choose to pursue a solo course.

If there’s one process in common, it’s that all add a physical codicil to their regular kit. Thus, whether they say so or not, it appears as if some sort of electronic interface meets the trap set. Most open about it are Amsterdam-based, Melbourne-born Steve Heather -- featured on Berlin Drums -- and Norwegian Ingar Zach. Heather, who often works with keyboardist Cor Fuhler and reedist Jorrit Dijkstra, uses a sampler as well as found percussive objects, while Zach -- who plays with everyone from Swiss violinist Charlotte Hug to British guitarist Derek Bailey -- extends his drums and percussion with gongs, motors and a zither.

Berlin-based Eric Schaefer, an Eno look-alike who has worked with the chamber ensemble Camera Obscura as well as with jazzers like reedist Gebhard Ullmann, also relies on the zither for extra timbres. Meanwhile Will Guthrie, who still resides in Heather’s hometown, features motor-based toys and machines plus electronics in his improvisations. Only Burkhard Beins, the fourth participant in Berlin Drums, who collaborates with guitarist John Bissett and Keith Rowe; and Aussie in Berlin, Tony Buck known for his work with The Necks, claim they limit themselves to acoustic objects that can be hit.

Appreciation for the end result can also be limited by length, and here Zach is at a disadvantage. His recital, recorded live in an abandoned Oslo chocolate factory lasts almost 44 minutes. Guthrie’s combination of live and studio tracks is longer, but divided into three parts. Meanwhile each Berlin drummer is showcased on a separate three-inch mini-CD, the longest of which reads out at less than 22 minutes.

Perhaps to overcome this perceived attention span demand, the Oslo-resident introduces as many different tones and timbres as he can and only gradually augments his sounds from indistinct rumbles that result from the kit moving along the tattered floorboards to stentorian rain storm and grinding industrial replications.

Following the creation of a tugboat whistle by gliding a stick along a snare top, cymbal shimmers and rolling metallic screeches enter the soundscape. Oscillating cathedral organ-like tones mix with approximation of bells pealing as looping sine waves -- sounding somewhat like a mini dust buster -- make their presence felt. Soon you can make out other percussion entries real and imagined. There’s what could be the swish of a swizzle stick and the vibrating friction of a glass armonica. Cymbals are rapped and zither strings resonate. Then what could be the rumble of thunderclouds becomes louder and more threatening. After the storm subsides into press rolls, a single thwack on a cowbell plus melodic xylophone or glockenspiel inflections appear.

All the while, a hypnotic, electro-acoustic drone, sort of like what the band AMM produces, comes in and out of focus; sometimes in front of the other instrumental sounds, sometimes just behind them. Other reverberations include a gong smash that would impress J. Arthur Rank, a shrill whistle, sharp knife stropping and wooden thwacks on drum rims.

Are the motors creating what could be inside piano rumble mixed with jackhammer tones? And when this timbre quickly gives way to diffuse vibrations from other parts of the kit, and are succeeded by a crescendo of motorized tones should you link the sound to what you’d hear from the assembly line of a sawmill or other heavy industrial outlet? Introducing a touch of primitivism, abrasive ratchet and woodblock scrapes are subsumed by the diminuendo of the lockstep motor, with the performance ending as wetted fingers stroked on a taut drum skin create faux Swiss alp horn tones.

Guthrie, who is also involved in dance, film, theatre and jazz projects, creates a similar panoply of real and imagined sounds on the two longer tracks of his CD.

The more than 22-minute “Westspace”, done live, finds similar electronic drones throughout. Beginning with creaking door squeaks and bell-like ring modulator input, he’s soon mixing regular paradiddles, ruffs and flams on the snares and tom toms with bounce pressure on what sounds like tam tams, gongs and a bell tree. Using loops to make the bell ringing more clangorous and insistent, he ends up with an aural percussion picture midway between the vibrations from Roscoe Mitchell’s percussion cage and the resonation from Ellen Fullman’s bronze wire long string instrument. Slapping away the ultimate reverb, the piece dissolves into silence.

A similar AMM-influenced electronic wash covers the 19½-minute “Blanket” where the buzzing drone from a ride cymbal is extended with sampling and vibrating loops. Not only does a spinning wheel of flanged metallic tones meet a resonating drum beat, but the thunder storm, turbo accelerations and cathedral bell ringing seems to have migrated over from Oslo to Melbourne. However, the concluding manipulations bring the sounds of scraped and gyrating items on an immovable surface, upfront.

Guthrie’s homeboy Heather has a completely antithetical approach to the others’ conceptions. His “Electric Bongo Bongo” features a near hand-clapping beat with enough bass drum accents to move into a disco. The rhythmically powerful sampled beats aren’t that simple however, since they have to vie for aural space with what sounds like tambourine oriented reverb, burbling dentist drill drones and other tones that resemble paper being crumbled, drum top cleaning cloth echoing swipes and raps on the wooden sides of the kit.

In contrast Aussie-turned Berliner Buck turns out the most dissonant, yet individualized program in his one-second-over-21-minute disc. His European residency has resulted in close associations with unique sound seekers like German minimalist trumpeter Axel Dörner. Melding scraped ratchet or güiro timbres with the undertow of electronic buzzes, it appears he’s scratching and shifting all sorts of items along and over the sides and tops of the drums.

The only drummer here who seems to vary his drum beats with cross sticking, at points he doubles the tempo and uses the bass drum punch as punctuation. When he’s not exploring its sections as if he was loosening and tightening the connectors in his kit as he plays, he could be dropping and picking up chains, rotating them on drum tops and using the top of a drumstick to scratch out elephant trumpeting tones on a cymbal. Building up to locomotive-like blaring, he uses mallets and sticks to eventually resonate individual kit parts, letting the natural vibrations serve as a climax and coda.

Dividing his contribution into seven sections gives Schaefer more improvisational scope, yet most of the time his pitter patter paradiddles, snare rat tats and cymbal buzzes aren’t that different from what the others create. Ingenuity is most apparent on the three-part “Don’t tell Morton”. Here his combination of zither and percussion manages to produce celeste-like, high-pitched plucked textures. Further on, what could be keyboard manipulated church bells resonate in tandem with wooden stick reverberations and the splish splash on cymbal tops.

Beins’ oddly titled “Nadir” begins inventively as a thin midst of cymbal drizzle commingles with flutters of sequenced sounds. He too appears to be tossing percussive items on the floor, at least until a feedback-rich electrical outlet sound interrupts the impulse. Shrilled sequencer timbres get louder in the penultimate moments, cutting in and out of the watery drumbeats. Coda is the sound of small bell repeatedly tinkling.

Six percussionists, six ways of handling the kit, and all worth examination should new approaches to the drum set hit it off with your listening program.

September 14, 2004

NO SPAGHETTI EDITION

Real time satellite data
SOFA 513

CHRIS BURN’S ENSEMBLE
Ensemble at Musica Genera 2002
Musica General MG 006

Overcoming the challenge of fomenting non-idiomatic improvisations in the gray area between composition and improvisation has been a preoccupation of inclusive European musicians for the past few decades. Making that concept work in the field between electronic and handmade sounds preoccupied them in the 1990s. In the 21st Century, as these two consummate CDs demonstrate, the most accomplished instrumentalists are able to wrap all these tendencies into a program that can be performed by larger bands -- six and eight musicians are featured in the sessions here.

Xenophobes may dispute it, but another reason these performances are so memorable is that the improvisers, whether British, Welsh, French, Greek, German and Norwegian -- to rhyme off the nationalities on both discs -- have really developed a Pan European sonic sound. This mastery of the notated, improvised and electro-acoustic means that an ensemble such as the Oslo-based No Spaghetti Edition can alter its composition each time out, adding new sound sources to plectrumist Ivar Grydeland, bassist Tonny Kluften and percussionist Ingar Zach who make up the core group. Similarly Chris Burn’s usually all British Ensemble is this time filled out by French clarinetist Xavier Charles and Greek cellist Nikos Veliotis. It’s a concept that could give anti-EU British Tories conniption fits.

As a matter of fact Veliotis’ harsh cello tones, combined with the scrapes and rasps inflicted on the copper and steel strings during Burn’s inside piano forays and by Welsh harpist Rhordi Davies on his instrument, provide the six pieces with a distinctive percussive plait. Adding to the mesh, is the characteristic understated reed tones of long-time Burn associate saxophonist John Butcher, extended still further by the textures arising from the synthesizer and electronics of Mathew Hutchinson, who is often found in a New music context when not improvising with Burn and Butcher.

Take “Rotacja”, built around droning, ostinato electronics interrupted by echoing reedy buzzes from both woodwinds and rasping string swells and koto-like scrapes from the string players. Using brief silences as time-outs, these periods of sound respite are usually brought to an end by the sudden full-force smash on piano keys or cello strings plus the vociferous warbling of shrill, aviary reed multiphonics.

Except for “Qpdbqp”, an almost 8½-minute Veliotis-composed example of one dense languidly moving single tone, ensemble or Burn-created pieces revolve around grating clawhammer picking or harsh flat picking from the strings, as well as ear-splitting squeals, pitch distortions and distended mouthpiece raspberries from the oral instruments.

Never letting the listener forget for a moment that the non-reeds can be heard as metal objects, the compositions seem to revel in harshness, with instruments appearing to be beaten with whatever blunt object is available to create more sound sources. As reed chirps meld with undulating electric-motivated buzzed synthesizer tones, you can also sometimes hear eccentric scraped lines that reconstruct themselves into resonating bottleneck-like tones.

Though you would think that guitarist and banjoist Grydeland would indulge in similar outlandish techniques, neither he, Kluften, Davies nor German inside-piano specialist Andrea Neumann are that up-front in their contributions to the Spaghetti octet CD. Instead, except for some distinctive below-the-bridge exploration from the guitarist, thumps from the bassist’s sticks and rubber band preparations and characteristic inside-piano string sweeps they stay in the background. In the foreground are tones produced by Charles -- who also introduces wavering harmonica timbres where appropriate -- fellow Frenchman Michel Doneda on soprano and sopranino saxophones and the trumpet and electronics of Germany’s Axel Dörner, who also often plays with Burn and Butcher.

A mixture of very short -- five of the 12 tracks are less than two minutes -- and very long -- two are respectively almost 21 and nearly 30½ minutes each -- REAL TIME SATELLITE DATA isn’t as satisfying as the other CD. Over the course of more than 72½ minutes some of the impressive dense harmonies are dissipated. Not that the improvisations are ever less than convincing however, but eliminating the shorter tracks may have been a better idea.

Consider the more than half-an-hour in which “Who is changing places” develops. Beginning almost inaudibly, the sound field first blossoms with unidentifiable scratches and saxophone tongue slaps, tiny hollow rolls from the percussionist and oscillations and buzzes from electronics. Following an ascending line of static, undulating mouth timbres constitute themselves into snarls and scratches that resemble the panting sounds a dog makes when he wants to get outside. As the underlying programmed tone expands from just below regular hearing to slightly louder, bass fiddle power plucks meet billowing chromatic trumpet growls, interspersed with minute glockenspiel thwacks. Defining leitmotif of this instant composition is the constant circular breathing tones from the horns, distributed in such a way that you can hear the individual nose and mouth breaths that soon start to resemble a hospital patient’s oxygen tube. Finally the infirmary-like stillness is shattered by the sidewalk drill rattling of cymbals and bells and a collection of airy blown noises and reverberating growls that could signal quitting time at a metal fabrication factory.

Just as impressive, though more morbid, is the almost 21-minute “In gasping death”, which depends on percussionist Zach’s versatility. It begins brutally enough with long, sibilant reed tones, brassy chromatic trumpet runs and the snap of drumsticks. Following guitar flat-picking, bass plucks and what in other circumstances could be a whirl drum sound, repeated gagaku-like court music from bells and metals are heard. Before the bells take on regular cathedral-like cadences, it appears as if small objects are being rolled on the floor and along it, as an assembly line of electronic rumbles comes to the fore. Abrasive drum scrapes, rubbed cymbals and kettledrum thwacks break up rolling drones from the reeds and dense sine wave movements. By the end, an assembly line of buzzes, crackles and cracks from the electronic impulses and scraping reed split tones are succeeded by polyphonic human-sounding shrieks that give way to an inside piano string sweep.

Although some of the shorter tracks evidently seem to centre more on resonating furniture-moving timbres than concise improvisational extensions, taken a few at a time, they can provide pleasure as well.

Pan-European and Post-Modern at the same time, and despite some personnel crossover, the octet and sextet here provide subtly distinct and equally legitimate examples of 21st Century creativity.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Ensemble: 1. Zaczac 2. Rotacja 3. Qpdbqp 4. Strach Na Wroble 5. Kontynuowac 6. Konczyc

Personnel: Ensemble: Xavier Charles (clarinet); John Butcher (soprano and tenor saxophones); Chris Burn (piano); Nikos Veliotis (cello); Rhordi Davies (harp); Mathew Hutchinson (synthesizer and electronics)

Track Listing: Real: 1. Soon, too soon 2. In gasping death 3. Micro warehouse 4. Micro luggage 5. Micro control journal 6. Mini systems 7. Macro photography 8. Macro investors 9. Super systems 10. Who is changing places 11. Super position 12. Super opposition

Personnel: Real: Axel Dörner (trumpet and electronics); Xavier Charles (clarinet and harmonica); Michel Doneda (soprano and sopranino saxophones); Andrea Neumann (inside piano); Ivar Grydeland (guitar and banjo); Rhordi Davies (harp); Tonny Kluften (bass); Ingar Zach (percussion )

February 16, 2004

HISS

Zahir
Rossbin RS 011

Yet another example of the Oslo-London concordant, CDs like this one prove -- as if there was any doubt -- that musicians from different countries cooperate a whole lot better than their political counterparts.

An outgrowth of the ever-shifting, large band No Spaghetti Edition, Hiss pares down the members of that larger group to four, who then proceed to run through five instant compositions in about 46 minutes. Recorded in London, the session makes up for this geographical imbalance by featuring three Norwegians and one Englishman. Each of the Norwegian players, though, is quite comfortable improvising in the low-key BritImprov style.

Percussionist Ingar Zach, for instance, has recorded with such first generation British improvisers as bassist Barry Guy and guitarist Derek Bailey. Bassist Tonny Kluften is part of British drummer Tony Oxley’s working trio as is guitarist Ivar Grydeland. Odd man out, British keyboardist Pat Thomas’ usual associates include Bailey, Oxley, drummer Roger Turner and the co-op group Lunge.

ZAHIR is no slavish BritImprov recreation however, but a novel variation on the theme, adapting electronic sounds to improv music. Many times throughout, the tunes highlight the enigmatic joy of true improv as the listener finds it impossible to match certain sounds to particular instruments.

Although all the tracks start off quietly and the music prefers to make its point at a whisper rather than at a scream, no one whimps out. There are enough passages of electric squeals, guitar feedback and pure industrial noise to remind you that improv aside, Scandinavian black metal is a close kin to British head banging.

Shimmering, high-pitched, mouse-like squeaks arise from the synthesizer at times, as do guitar pedal effects, feedback reverberations and the ascending noise of what sounds like a train going through tunnel, with percussion creating the level crossing interface. Zach also seems able to create enough hullabaloo to replicate how a shop full of exploding, hammered metals would reverberate -- and how walls would be rendered by that explosion.

Meanwhile, static moving from one electric instrument to another, freeform drones, ascending buzzes and whirls -- plus mixing board squeals -- add to the general discord. Mingled among all this is what appears to be keyboard glissandos and forearm pressure on many keys simultaneously; whacks on hollow logs and on what could be either a dumbek or darbuka; plus melodica and car horn tones and sampled voices isolated on recording tapes run forwards and backwards.

The CD reaches a crescendo of sorts on the penultimate track where the scratch of metal appears to arise from unselected cymbals rolling across the floor and cowbells hit with great force. Twisting tones of sprawling electronic currents meet video game echoes and spinning top sounds, while tinny accordion-like timbres vie for upfront ear space with squeaking, whirring tones, chain rattling, swift ruffs and flams and industrial noises that could actually be furniture being dragged across the studio.

Finally, the entire glorious cacophony comes to a head on the almost 14-minute “Khayal”. Here the menagerie of effects multiples with the apparent emergence of running water sounds among guitar chord twists, scraping metal, wood abrasions, bubbling cauldron intimations and what could be the peeps of grouse and definite porcine oinks. Wire brushes hitting glass test tubes, resounding drum rolls, all but ear-splitting electric guitar drones and the whooshes of a synthesizer’s output are knitted together as a coda -- concluding with a single bell stroke.

Whether musicians from two other countries could have created a similar aural whole is open to question; as is whether you’re prepared to sit through this CD. Your appreciation will likely depend on how well you can appreciate manipulation of sound sources as well as those from conventional instruments.

But certainly for the brave of heart -- and ear -- the verb that may describe this Norwegian-British quartet’s output is closer to cheer than hiss.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Wazifah 2. Qalb 3. Batin 4. Zahir 5. Khayal

Personnel: Pat Thomas (keyboards and electronics); Ivar Grydeland (guitar); Tonny Kluften (bass); Ingar Zach (percussion)

August 18, 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

NO SPAGHETTI EDITION

Pasta Variations
SOFA 509

JOHN BUTCHER/PHIL MINTON
Apples of Gomorrah
GROB 429

The glue -- or maybe it’s the spittle -- that holds these two sessions together is the oral work of British performer Phil Minton. One hesitates to call him a singer since his vocal tones seem to range from improvising instrumental emulation to aural recapitulation of all the intonation related to the Seven Ages of Man. And all that is mixed with cartoon character voices, operatic snatches and animal calls.

While individually cogent, each CD is distinct. On PASTA VARIATIONS, Minton mixes it up with the one British -- Pat Thomas on keyboards and electronics -- and five Norwegian members of No Spaghetti Edition, the improv group with a constantly shifting line-up. APPLES OF GOMORRAH, on the other hand, is a duo session, with a longtime associate, soprano and tenor saxophonist John Butcher. Each disc is impressive in its own way.

Constantly experimenting, Minton was involved with Bob Ostertag’s electronic piece, SAY NO MORE, as long ago as 1983, so facing Thomas’ instrumental advances, plus oddball instruments like Håkon Kornstad’s fluteonet and Frode Haltli’s accordion causes no terror. Or if it does his vocal forays don’t sound any different than when he’s improvising with more conventional instruments. The key thing here is that he adapts to his new partners and they to him.

For instance, on the more than 14 minute “PVD”, Thomas’ mellotron-like sound mixes with elongated “ahs” and “oohs” from Minton and fluteonet whistles from Kornstad, who also leads his own modern mainstream trio. Matching guttural mumbles and sighs that could emanate as easily from an inmate of Bedlam as a cartoon pirate are the woodblock and cymbal caresses from drummer Ingar Zach, who has duetted with British guitarist Derek Bailey among others. Thus, Minton turns into a rhythm singer. But, trouble is, as the accordion vamps and tenor saxophone tones speed up, so must Minton and soon he’s almost yodeling in triple time. Bassist Tonny Kluften, who with guitarist Ivar Grydeland has recorded with British drummer Tony Oxley, holds onto the rhythm, allowing the vocalist to exhibit what could be a wordless counter tenor madrigal interacting with bird-like saxophone trills and buzzing electronic static. Soon, as on some other tracks, Minton’s yowling is almost buried beneath accordion tremolos and fulsome guitar licks.

Earlier, the saxophonist has added some tongue slaps and key pops to his improvisations to match Minton clamor to clamor, while Haltli, whose experience encompasses Norwegian folk and classical music, turns his expressiveness into a key pressing frenzy. As for Thomas, his sudden electronic explosions and car crash stops find modernistic keyboard runs turning to repeated, rubato fingering. At times, his piano sounds almost boppish when meeting Minton’s quacking duck sounds head on.

“PVE”, the disc’s 17½-minute tour de force, finds all hands on deck and heading in different directions. Mechanical clicks flow out of Thomas’ machines, Kornstad circular breathes out some split-tone shrills, Kluften plucks his bass loudly, and Zach alternates his accents from hi hat to bass drum pedal. Meanwhile Minton’s liturgical-style chanting soon turns to frenzied, high-pitched, near screams and Haltli uses tremolos to coat the process in an harmonic batter, while only a single percussion tone can be heard.

The saxophonist soon begins flutter tonguing, the percussionist worries the rims and sides of his drums and Grydeland scratches out tiny patterns on his strings. Finally, the squeezebox’s bent notes reconfigure themselves into a folkish melody amplified by the slurp of electronics and whistling reeds. Swelling to a crescendo the release is a coda of deflating electronic sounds and Alzheimer-like mumbling from Minton.

Nearly three years earlier, Minton and Butcher, who had been associated since earlier in the decade, and who toured in a quartet filled out by pianist Veryan Weston and percussionist Roger Turner, went into a London studio and turned out 17 tunes in less than 44½ minutes. Intentionally or not, the sacramental suggestions of the other disc are resurrected here with Minton’s vocal contortions alluding to Ashkenazi davening, the muezzin’s calls to prayer and Georgian chants.

Considering that many more of the sounds take place more in his lips and mouth than vocal chords, some references may be more obtuse than others. Also noteworthy as the CD evolves, is how the sounds and tones of the improvising voice and improvising horns begin to resemble one another. On “Common cleavers”, for instance, Minton’s speedy glossolalia is virtually indistinguishable from Butcher’s soprano reed biting, with the later’s whiplash notes seemingly driving the vocalist to aural orgasm. “Wormleaf”, however, finds Minton puffing out basso notes of pure air, while it sounds like Butcher is inflating a balloon with his reed. Soon as the voice bounces from high to low tones, interspersed with growls, the sax delivery becomes all lips and tongue and spit.

Sometimes, as when Minton appears to be retching or producing what in other circumstances would be an infant’s cries or the sound of an indisposed feline, his delivery can be a little hard to take. But that’s why Butcher is onboard. Since the ear will accept extended instrumental techniques more readily than speaking in tongues, the listener can accept his atonality more readily than Minton’s Grand Guignol-like sounds. At those times the sacramental sounds reassert themselves as well. All you have to do is remind yourself that qualification for Christian sainthood in early days usually involved some sort of gruesome torture and death. Think of Minton’s creations as the soundtrack of those endeavors.

At the same time, if you can pull away from the vocal sounds -- easier for some than others -- you can note that Butcher can twist key pops and squeaks into a melody and extend multiphonics to such an extent that he can sound the overtones of two or three notes while pressing only one key. Like an experienced soul singer such as Wilson Pickett, who can produce several notes from one falsetto cry, Minton’s ghostly screams are capable of the same methodology. During “Itchgrass”, an oratorio of low-grade crying, he goes so deep into his chest and throat that the echoing vocal overtones make perfect counterpoint to Butcher’s honks, hums and tongue slaps.

If your idea of singers’ improvising is hearing someone scat in the middle of “Route 66” or draw out the syllables on “My Funny Valentine” then run away from these discs. But if you want to hear how a voice can range between operatic soaring and loony- bin mumbles while holding its own with top instrumentalists, then seek them out. Even if you’ve never experienced Minton’s bastard art before, you may surprise yourself by becoming an enthusiast.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. PVA 2. PVB 3. PVC 4. PVD 5. PVE

Personnel: Håkon Kornstad (tenor saxophone, fluteonet); Frode Haltli (accordion); Pat Thomas (keyboards, electronics); Ivar Grydeland (guitar); Tonny Kluften (bass); Ingar Zach (percussion); Phil Minton (voice)

Track Listing: 1. Dead men’s Bells 2. Common Cleavers 3. Sprangletop 4. Joyweed 5.

Caper Spurge 6. Wormleaf 7. Itchgrass 8. Sticky Willie 9. Nodding thistle 10. Fairy Cheeses 11. Herb Twopence 12. Sauce Alone 13. Nodding spurge 14. Cuckoo’s Stockings 15. Bachelor’s Buttons 16. Beggar’s Lice 17. Loosestrife

Personnel: John Butcher (tenor and soprano saxophone); Phil Minton (voice)

February 3, 2003

HENNEMAN STRING QUARTET

Piazza Pia
Wig 07

WACHSMANN/HUG/GRYDELAND/ZACH
Wazahugy
SOFA 508

Described -- usually by classical music snobs -- as the superlative medium for a composer’s thoughts in chamber music, the string quartet is often resistant to massive efforts to free it of ponderous 19th century memories and shove it into the modern era.

Adding improvisation to the equation makes the situation even more difficult. This demands that the members of the traditional quartet -- two violinists, one violist and a cellist -- not only abandon comfortable romantic culture, but also spontaneously create as they play.

Wazahugy and the Henneman String Quartet (HSQ) have resolved this conundrum by doing more than filling their books with certified contemporary music. Each formation consists of instrumentalists from jazz, improv and notated music backgrounds playing a combination of written and improvised sounds, further redefined by the group’s instrumentation.

Neo-cons who populate the so-called classical world in even greater numbers than in jazz may not grant string quartet status to either group however. The foursome headed by Dutch violist Ig Henneman has dared replace one violin with a bass -- played with distinction by Wilbert de Joode, sideman of choice on many Dutch and EuroImprov sessions -- and sometimes uses two violas -- the other played by young Oene van Geel of Amsterdam -- as formation of choice. American cellist Alex Waterman rounds out the group.

Firmly beyond the pale for these same people is Wazahugy, named with the first syllable of each group member’s name. Even though it has the requisite two violinists on board, both of whom -- Ugandan/Briton Philipp Wachsmann and Swiss Charlotte Hug have extensive so-called classical backgrounds -- the third “string” is that of Norwegian Ivar Grydeland’s guitar. Perceptive Norwegian percussionist Ingar Zach completes the line up.

Not only would most folks, except for the most hidebound, hear the HSQ as a recognized string quartet formation, but the tunes, written by Henneman to celebrate an Italian getaway, have definite echoes of local folk music and the sacred and secular creations of earlier, classical composers. While she has only concentrated on quartet music for a couple of years, early on she adopted her extensive classical training to write first rock songs with FC Gerania, then film, theatre and concert commissions as well as mixing music and poetry in her acclaimed Tentet. Over the past decade, her groups have included other Dutch experimenters such as trombonist Wolter Wierbos, reedman Ab Baars, and included advanced string players like de Joode, Mary Oliver, Lorre Lynn Trytten and Tristan Honsinger.

You can most clearly hear her inventive mixture of musical past, present and future with “Non Oso”, based on a profane madrigal by Claudio Monteverdi. Initial modern dissonance created by the mix of two violas, cello and bass soon gives way to harmonized low tones from al involved. When the initial theme is limed by the higher-pitched instruments, de Joode, whose employers of choice have ranged from big band Bik Bent Braam to Baars’s trio plus wild cards like American saxophonist Charles Gayle, plucks out the sort of light-fingered, all-over-the-strings solo, he would on a jazz gig. Although wilder, siren-like tones can sometimes be heard, the leitmotif here is creation of a counterpoint that compliments without subsuming anyone’s creativity.

Should you want something even less intimidating, there’s “Semipiaci”, the paraphrase of a brief, San Remo-style pop hit of the early 1960s, with smooth legato harmonies broken up by some sneaky pizzicato and the occasional pluck from de Joode. Then there’s the gorgeous harmonies of “Vivo Son”, the longest track, its melody advanced by what could be a viola weeping, and which is borrowed from a dolorous madrigal written by passionate Carlo Gesualdo de Venosa.

“Vivo Son”, is a feature for van Geel, who shares a similar interest in integrating elements from different musical traditions. An adaptation of a song from the Northern Italian mountain regions, which is supposed to be drenched in melancholy, the violist’s treatment doesn’t seem to reflect that. Using a steady syncopated rhythm, he works his way up the scale, double and triple stopping, alternately cheerful and dispirited.

More dramatic is “Cassettone”, taken andante, where Henneman’s arching viola lines are integrated into the whinnying, swaying sounds from the others. At times sounding as if it could underscore a sophisticated spy thriller, the theme is reprised after motifs and countermotifs have been tossed back and forth among the other three instruments, with de Joode’s bull fiddle carrying the beat.

At the end, there’s “Ecco,” an augmented paraphrase of a dancing song by Florentine Francesco Landini. However it’s obviously Henneman, not the Italian, who conceived of the banging-on-the-instruments’ sides percussion which take up the first few minutes of the tune. Strumming and bowing build up, only to give way to the two higher fiddles echoing one another’s phrases in counterpoint, while their lower-pitched cousins pluck away. Striking bows on the strings give some passages the same rhythm the pounding heels of flamenco dancers’ shoes produce. Finally, a suggestion of the melody is superseded by a version of it in full harmonic splendor. The piece ends, but a split second later you hear the saucy echo of a concluding bow strike.

Should HSQ’s innovations give string quartet moldy figs apoplexy, cardiac arrest may result from them hearing Wazahugy’s performance of all improvised material. Both of the band’s violinists are probably quite familiar with this sort of reactionary backlash though. Before interacting with the likes of saxophonist Evan Parker, guitarist Derek Bailey, bassist Barry Guy and drummer Tony Oxley, Wachsmann’s background was graphic and prose-based scores, conceptualism and electroacoustics, plus the music of Webern, Partch, Ives and Berio -- all neo-con bugaboos. Hug specializes in theatrical solo performances, sometimes taking place outdoors, and has recently become more involved in improv with the likes of keyboards/electronics specialist Pat Thomas and violinist Phil Durrant.

Electronics aren’t that prominent on the five instant compositions that make up WAZAHUGY, but Hug’s extended techniques, including four-string-at-once soft bow, moistened hair wet bow and torqued hair twist bow are all on display. During the course of the nearly 18 minute first track, the fiddles drone at the bottom of their range so often that they resemble cellos or basses -- or swooping predatory fowl. Zach, who has also duetted with guitarist Bailey and is part of the No Spaghetti improvisation ensemble, offers, as counterpoint, shimmering cymbal echoes, minute bell-like peals and asymmetric percussion diversions that can sound like glass shattering or oil drums being thumped. Grydeland, another No Spaghetti participant, who has recorded with drummer Oxley, chimes in with a Bailey-influenced vocabulary of accented plucks, flat picking touches behind the bridge and silences.

Redefining the quartet into a series of duos on the final track, one violin -- Wachsmann? -- explores different stops on his instrument as the percussionist manipulates tone and pressure on his. Then the other fiddle works off Grydeland’s reverberating guitar chords. Still later, one violin softly bows in the lower register while the other extends higher-pitched sounds. A sudden cymbal crash shatters these mid-range, mid-level lines into atonality for a stretch until the four regroup in time for percussionist and guitarist to complement each other’s inventions.

Elsewhere, string output is extended and mutated by the drone of electronics, with white noise is as often on tap as outer space implications or even bird warbling. Is what appears to be the sound of balloons being twisted into odd shapes coming from the string players, you wonder? And how many other groups have thought of using the buzz of mutated string sets to back up low-key flat-picking from the guitar?

Cognizant of the string quartet’s chamber music origin, Zach contributes to the overall sound picture by expressing himself in the subtle use of unusual implements such as what seem to be cowbells, toy xylophones and triangles. His art is in restraint, often upping the tempo, never rousing himself to bombast, and astutely integrating his sounds among the 10 strings that make up the rest of the quartet.

Those interested in the future of the so-called traditional string quartet should make a point of listening to Ig Henneman’s session. Those wondering about other chamber music setting in which two violins can function, should seek out WAZAHUGY. Most far-sighted folk should be interested in both discs.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Piazza: 1.Via Roma 2. Marranzanta 3. Cassettone 4. Spolia 5. Vivo Son 6. Palpito 7. Satiras 8. Semipiaci 9. Non Oso 10. Piazza Pia 11. Ecco

Personnel: Piazza: Oene van Geel (violin, viola); Ig Henneman (viola); Alex Waterman (cello); Wilbert de Joode (bass)

Track Listing: Waz: 1. 17.28 2. 6.27 3. 9.17 4. 9.38 5. 8.31

Personnel: Waz: Philipp Wachsmann (violin and electronics); Charlotte Hug (viola and electronics); Ivar Grydeland (guitar); Ingar Zach (percussion)

January 2, 2003

NO SPAGHETTI EDITION

Listen … and tell me what it was
SOFA 506

Rugged coastlines, lengthy fjords and Jan Garbarek's wimpy saxophone, more-or-less sum up what the average jazz fan knows about Norway. But while the geography hasn't changed over the past three decades, a new generation of improvisers has come to maturity. Their restless experimentation has more in common with the free form breakthroughs of other European and American musicians than the cold, ethereal meandering which have given so-called Nordic jazz the reputation it has.

Case in point is this CD, a biggish band project which links 10 committed Norwegians with British keyboardist Pat Thomas and German trumpeter Axel Dörner for eight instant compositions. Results are impressive, proving once again that these sorts of spontaneous in-the-studio creations aren't limited by geographical boundaries.

Dörner and Thomas, of course, are adept improvisers in this style who have fit into as many different situations as there are countries in the EU. Yet this is more than a showcase for the guest stars. Dividing the 10 locals into two double quintets, the band has massed firepower when it needs it, or can isolate certain individuals for greater or lesser periods of time.

Some locals have already proven their mettle on the world stage. Bassist Tonny Kluften and guitarist Ivar Grydeland recorded with British drummer Tony Oxley; drummer Ingar Zach duetted with British guitarist Derek Bailey and fellow percussionist Paal Nilsen-Love has been a members of a couple of American multi-reedist Ken Vandermark's bands.

At least as impressive, is young accordion virtuoso Frode Haltli, who has formerly made noise playing Norwegian folk and classical music. Designated as partner to voice and electronics manipulator Maja Ratkje in these double quintets, he seems to be all over the tracks with in-your-face glissandos and staccato blasts. Slow moving "Moscowskaja" is probably the most instructive showcase, as Dörner's stretched, muted horn lines are slowly superceded by electric bomps and beeps then meshed with distinctive accordion tones as traditional and modern sounds coexist.

Co-existence as a form of face off turns up on "A country practice", though, as each member of what could be termed the rhythm section moves to the forefront and back again. Building up from, and finally fading into, silence, the 12 minutes in between features such highlights as scratch cymbal sounds followed by what could be a tabletop guitar solo -- courtesy of Øyvind Torvund perhaps? -- and intricate fingerings at the highest part of bass strings -- from Kluften? -- giving way to a bowed passage that introduces an intricate bass and drum duet. Two drum solos -- from two different percussionist perhaps -- are kept apart by Thomas' lunging, atonal keyboard runs. Before the track fades, circular breathing sounds that could be electronically manipulated, and trumpet sighs appear to duke it out. Finally the two reedmen -- Håkon Kornstad, likely on tenor saxophone, and Rolf Erik Nystrøm, probably on alto sax -- create a cutting contest with some raucous reed honks. But what created that deep breathy trombone-like sound that appears before track end?

A real Norwegian smorgasbord, "If mountains could sing" -- at almost 16 minutes the longest track -- gives everyone his or her head. Wigged out Sun Ra referencing extraterrestrial electronics share sonic space with what appears to be a symphony of noise makers blown in unison. Vocalist Ratkje, who earlier on had contributed odd voice interpolations that were midway between Julie Andrews' soprano singing and the sound of an instructor in a language learning tape, sneaks in a couple of vocal lines. Then someone -- perhaps her again -- leeches minute music selections and a plumy announcer's tone into the mix in a way that suggest a radio station's signal coming in and out of focus. Percussion explosions vie with throat singing. Marching bands seem to go off in many directions playing something that sounds very close to "Frerè Jacques" as atonal and standard jazz piano runs each make their appearance.

Any one of these tracks proves the truth in this disc's title. Listeners interested in a so-far-unheralded group of players and a raucous good time program of improvisation should investigate this session. Most of the musicians are unjustly unknown at present, but with luck, many folks will soon know about these fjord freedom sounds.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1.Mir 1.4 2. Drop the boy 3. Moscowkaja 4. If mountains could sing 5. The night, the death and the universe 6. A country practice 7. Spaghetti fingers 8. Mr. Thompson

Personnel: Axel Dörner (trumpet, electronics); Håkon Kornstad, Rolf Erik Nystrøm (reeds); Frode Haltli (accordion); Pat Thomas (piano, electronics); Ivar Grydeland, Øyvind Torvund (guitar); Tonny Kluften, Ingebrigt Flaten (bass); Ingar Zach, Paal Nilsen-love (drums, percussion); Maja Ratkje (voice, electronics)

August 27, 2001

DEREK BAILEY/INGAR ZACH

Llaer
SOFA 503

INGAR ZACH/IVAR GRYDELAND

Visiting Ants
SOFA 502

Those who complain about the supposed sameness of improvised music should listen closely to these two completely off the cuff sessions. Even though they were recorded less than four months apart, feature the exact same instrumentation as well as the same percussionist, only the very obtuse could confuse one for the other.

LLAER presents British guitarist Derek Bailey, the grand old man of EuroImprov trading licks with Ingar Zach, a young Norwegian percussionist. VISITING ANTS -- shouldn't the disc titles have been reversed? -- highlights duets between Zach and fellow countryman, guitarist Ivar Grydeland.

A conservatory trained percussionist, Zach has worked with a variety of improvised and other bands in the Far North. Besides his ongoing percussive duo with Grydeland, his best-known affiliation is with Tri-dim a Trans-Scandinavian trio, which also features the exceptional Swedish guitarist David Stackenäs. Grydeland has played and recorded with British drummer Tony Oxley, Bailey's old confrere from the dawn of the close-knit London improvised music scene.

Recorded in Oslo following a Norwegian mini-tour by the duo, LLAER finds Zach seemingly deferring more to 71-year-old Bailey than he does to his younger compatriot on the other disc. At the same time, Bailey, an old hand in this sort of setting, frequently offers smoother, more pliable licks than Grydeland. Only rarely does the Englishman go hog wild with blaring feedback and electric effects, as he does on "Jerky Heads". Even then, that outburst eventually subsides into more moderated tones.

Fearless in such situations, the drummer brings out the heavy artillery, and happily bangs away on his snares, tom toms and bass drums. Elsewhere, when Bailey turns to simple repetition and even simpler licks, Zach offers up cymbal scratches, cowbell knocks and little snare tattoos. At times it can appear as if you're listening to him polish various parts of the kit as he searches for the right stroke to complement the guitarist's exploration.

After building itself up with an entire family of tiny gestures -- a paradiddle here, a roll there, one-half second of a cymbal ricochet here, one-half second of a cow bell thump there, "Hepp", a drum solo, resolves itself in a speedy frenzy of almost straight jazz. In marked contrast, "Warts'n'All", Bailey's solo showpiece is mostly silences, balladic meanderings. and strumming.

Having demonstrated singular capabilities, the more than 17 minute "Real Flying" evolves as a real meeting of minds -- and hands. Guitar sounds escalate from near noiselessness to hockey arena loudness. At one point Bailey introduces a section of twisted screech notes and ear splitting feedback. Zach replies in kind, pounding out a ballet of dark metal bass drum counterattack, finally forcing a return to the little rivulets of sound with which the duet began. Throughout the Norwegian comes across like Northern Mr. Fix-It in his workshop, restlessly busy, experimenting with first this tool and then the next.

Happily, a climate of easy intimacy marks the little more than 37 minutes of VISITING ANTS. Hyper-familiar with the other's moves, Zach seems freer and more insulated from the need to get hot before he's ready. If either musician suddenly wants to blast off -- as they both do on "First Visit" -- the other is ready. During the course of the disc, tiny bells, bowed guitar and cymbals, seemingly throttled voices, megaphone shouts and electronic washes all make their appearance. Echoed, repeated frantic or restful passages turn the entire disc into a sort of modified rondo sonata

Settling into a drum solo on ". … But Still Sofanatic" Zach maintains a measured pace, relaxing enough into the proceedings to substitute silences for the industriousness he exhibits with Bailey. While his entire kit seems to get a workout, it's the bells, cymbals and what could be vibes that appear most prominently.

Additionally, in contrast to Bailey's matter of fact stance, Grydeland is more focused. On "Think Happy Thoughts", for example, he launches a Star Wars missile attack full of rocket ship feedback and metallic electronica. So overpowering is the onslaught, though, that it's hard to determine whether Zach is along for the voyage or not. With the two compatriots definitely on side for "Dog", they come up with a speedy rock-tinged blow out that could easily attract those who have come to improv through such postrock bands as Sonic Youth.

To sum up: two discs, three musicians, many ways to approach improvised music. Both CDs deserve investigation, not only for the minute unfolding of a new Bailey partnership, but also to hear two young Norwegians evolving their version of the freest of musics.

-- Ken Waxman

Llaer:

Track Listing: 1. Shiny Crimp 2. Jerky Heads 3. Horizontal Rain 4. Hepp 5. Warts'n'All 6. Real Flying 7. Buckle Up!

Personnel: Derek Bailey (guitar); Ingar Zach (drums, percussion)

Visiting Ants :

Track Listing: 1. Sofamiliar … 2. First Visit 3. Sofasticated Lady 5. Hakavik Loek 6. Think Happy Thoughts 7. … But Still Sofanatic 8. Darbu 9. Dog 10. Last Visit

Personnel: Ivar Grydeland (guitar); Ingar Zach (drums, percussion)

May 15, 2001