Jazz Brugge

Brugge, Belgium
October 2-October 5, 2008

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-- Ken Waxman

-- MusicWorks Issue #103

March 28, 2009

Mats Gustafsson

The Vilnius Explosion
No Business Records NBCD 1

RPM

Rød Planet

ILK Records 137 CD/IDCD0033

With a profile so low on the international jazz scene that any knowledge of the country’s improvised music usually begins and ends with the now-defunct Ganelin Trio, Lithuania actually has its share of boundary-expanding musicians.

Not only is this truism demonstrated on these two significant CDs, but the sessions also show that Lithuanian improvisers are advancing by forging alliances with their Scandinavian neighbors. For example, although Swedish baritone saxophonist Mats Gustafsson’s name is most prominent on the cover, The Vilnius Explosion is in actuality a full-fledged group experience, with the reedist integrated into an ensemble of four Lithuanian natives – drummers Akadijus Gotesmanas and Marijus Aleska, bassist Eugenijus Kanevičus and saxophonist/clarinetist Liudas Mockŭnas. Mockŭnas also makes up one third – and one letter – of the RPM band, which recorded Rød Planet. His partners are both Danes, laptopist Jakob Riis and drummer Stefan Pasborg.

Mockŭnas’ top-drawer improvising here also confirms another truism about just any improvised music scene – no one style predominates. Thus the session with Gustafsson is full on Free Jazz experimentation in the Brötzmann-Ayler tradition, while RPM architecturally erects electro-acoustic, somewhat meditative soundscapes, as dependent on Riis’ programming as the acoustic energy expressed by the other two musicians.

Cohesive connections aren’t lacking on The Vilnius Explosion either, with the five players functioning as a unit throughout. Should Gustafsson ram striated tones and tongue slaps into the interface, then he’s followed every step of the way by Kanevičus’ bass thumps. And as the dual drummers lob the rhythmic impetus from one to another with a series of flams, drags, bounces and rolls, the two reedists similarly pair up in contrapuntal cohesion. Mockŭnas on soprano, for instance, relies on reed bites plus irregular but gentling pitch modulations, while the larger-horn playing Swede uses key percussion, tongue slaps and parlando near vocalized cries to make his point.

The Vilnius Explosion’s centerpiece is the more than 31½-minute “Untitled (Just Say No)”, a mercurial tour-de-force that may have brought back memories to Gustafsson of his work in Peter Brötzmann’s multi-saxophone, multi-percussion Chicago Tentet. On this CD however, the five journey from the near-inaudibility of tongue-stopping and air vibrations to thunderous strident textures, with the percussion clatter and patter inflating to match extended glottal slurs and reed bites from the saxophonists.

Key word here is partnership, as each player makes a concentrated effort to hook up with one or more of the other musicians at different junctures. Again Gustafsson and Kanevičus often reach a rapprochement with room-shaking baritone saxophone textures anchored by throbbing bass slaps. Similarly the two horns’ intonation frequently rubs up against one another, more for contrast than comparison. When Mockŭnas vibrates moderato lines upwards into altissimo screeching, he’s met with pedal-point growls from Gustafsson. Alternately the two create parallel tones, with Gustafsson’s low-pitched drones showcasing Mockŭnas’ undulating coloration and near-verbalized multiphonics.

As for the percussionists, to deal with, at different times, a solid walking bass line or quacking reed split tones, tandem or singular stratagems are developed. Clattering and patterning, neither beats the drums, but calls on add-ons and junior percussion instruments as needed. Added to bass thumps at one point, are rolling tom-tom pops and regular paced beats. If moderato reed harmonies inflate to shredding timbres, freak notes and stuttering tongue slaps, the response involves bell-ringing cymbal pulsations and the equivalent of door-knocking from the snare drums.

With the horns’ final variation built on hocketing waves of sound, the reed inventions eventually evolve to plainsong-style unison. Background rasps, bops and scrapes in double time from the drummers coupled with sul tasto bass patterns provide proper framework for Gustafsson rupturing every note as it rolls off his tongue and Mockŭnas’ vocalized interventions.

Conversely, as the only horn(s) in RPM, Mockŭnas’ output is more moderato and serpentine, arriving more from his diaphragm than his throat. Similarly Pasborg, who in the past has worked with saxophonist John Tchicai and French guitarist Marc Ducret, never hammers his point home, but uses concussion and friction to interlock with the others’ timbres. Riis too avoids sucking all the available space from the tunes by selectively adding signal processed and oscillated tones. This isn’t his first improvisational foray either. He was also a member of the Expanded Botanics band with Phillipp Wachsmann on violin and electronics and percussionist Peter Ole Jørgensen.

Time-shifting drones and crackles adding depth to the acoustic instruments’ output so that the result is almost tensile. “Honey Pot”, for example, blends chromatic tenor saxophone lines, quasi-Native American drum beats and blurry signal processing. In contrast, “Dingo” reveals what can be achieved with footstep-paced drumming, gong-like resonation, signal-processed delays and watery multiphonics from the reedist.

Appended throughout are timbre-tinctures which add to the overall sound picture without being undifferentiated. Thus mallet-driven vibe-like concussion, accordion-like swells or a thudding bass line result from the extended techniques expressed with skill by Mockŭnas and Pasborg, as much as from the signal-processing and ring modulator clangs that are the province of Riis’ lap top. Although variations of pitch and temp create off-handed references to other sounds, RPM’s vision stays constant.

Different sides to the Free Improv coins, these CDs not only capture evolving sounds in Northern Europe, but also give greater exposure to Lithuanian musicians unjustly almost unknown outside of their own country.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Rød: Track List: 1. Honey Pot 2. Light Light 3. Afro Pling 4. Reveille 5. Pit Cult 6. Pan Clock 7. Dingo 8. Cyborgs Prelude 9. Rotations 10. Moist Storm

Personnel: Rød: Liudas Mockŭnas (soprano, tenor and baritone saxophones and bass clarinet); Stefan Pasborg (drums) and Jakob Riis (laptop)

Track Listing: 1. Untitled (Just Say No) 2. Untitled (We Don’t Remember) 3. Untitled (Shield) 4. Untitled (The End)

Personnel: Vilnius: Liudas Mockŭnas (soprano, tenor and baritone saxophones and bass clarinet); Mats Gustafsson (baritone and slide saxophones and alto fluteophone); Eugenijus Kanevičus (bass) and Akadijus Gotesmanas and Marijus Aleska (drums)

February 13, 2009

RPM

Rød Planet
ILK Records 137 CD/IDCD0033

Mats Gustafsson

The Vilnius Explosion

No Business Records NBCD 1

With a profile so low on the international jazz scene that any knowledge of the country’s improvised music usually begins and ends with the now-defunct Ganelin Trio, Lithuania actually has its share of boundary-expanding musicians.

Not only is this truism demonstrated on these two significant CDs, but the sessions also show that Lithuanian improvisers are advancing by forging alliances with their Scandinavian neighbors. For example, although Swedish baritone saxophonist Mats Gustafsson’s name is most prominent on the cover, The Vilnius Explosion is in actuality a full-fledged group experience, with the reedist integrated into an ensemble of four Lithuanian natives – drummers Akadijus Gotesmanas and Marijus Aleska, bassist Eugenijus Kanevičus and saxophonist/clarinetist Liudas Mockŭnas. Mockŭnas also makes up one third – and one letter – of the RPM band, which recorded Rød Planet. His partners are both Danes, laptopist Jakob Riis and drummer Stefan Pasborg.

Mockŭnas’ top-drawer improvising here also confirms another truism about just any improvised music scene – no one style predominates. Thus the session with Gustafsson is full on Free Jazz experimentation in the Brötzmann-Ayler tradition, while RPM architecturally erects electro-acoustic, somewhat meditative soundscapes, as dependent on Riis’ programming as the acoustic energy expressed by the other two musicians.

Cohesive connections aren’t lacking on The Vilnius Explosion either, with the five players functioning as a unit throughout. Should Gustafsson ram striated tones and tongue slaps into the interface, then he’s followed every step of the way by Kanevičus’ bass thumps. And as the dual drummers lob the rhythmic impetus from one to another with a series of flams, drags, bounces and rolls, the two reedists similarly pair up in contrapuntal cohesion. Mockŭnas on soprano, for instance, relies on reed bites plus irregular but gentling pitch modulations, while the larger-horn playing Swede uses key percussion, tongue slaps and parlando near vocalized cries to make his point.

The Vilnius Explosion’s centerpiece is the more than 31½-minute “Untitled (Just Say No)”, a mercurial tour-de-force that may have brought back memories to Gustafsson of his work in Peter Brötzmann’s multi-saxophone, multi-percussion Chicago Tentet. On this CD however, the five journey from the near-inaudibility of tongue-stopping and air vibrations to thunderous strident textures, with the percussion clatter and patter inflating to match extended glottal slurs and reed bites from the saxophonists.

Key word here is partnership, as each player makes a concentrated effort to hook up with one or more of the other musicians at different junctures. Again Gustafsson and Kanevičus often reach a rapprochement with room-shaking baritone saxophone textures anchored by throbbing bass slaps. Similarly the two horns’ intonation frequently rubs up against one another, more for contrast than comparison. When Mockŭnas vibrates moderato lines upwards into altissimo screeching, he’s met with pedal-point growls from Gustafsson. Alternately the two create parallel tones, with Gustafsson’s low-pitched drones showcasing Mockŭnas’ undulating coloration and near-verbalized multiphonics.

As for the percussionists, to deal with, at different times, a solid walking bass line or quacking reed split tones, tandem or singular stratagems are developed. Clattering and patterning, neither beats the drums, but calls on add-ons and junior percussion instruments as needed. Added to bass thumps at one point, are rolling tom-tom pops and regular paced beats. If moderato reed harmonies inflate to shredding timbres, freak notes and stuttering tongue slaps, the response involves bell-ringing cymbal pulsations and the equivalent of door-knocking from the snare drums.

With the horns’ final variation built on hocketing waves of sound, the reed inventions eventually evolve to plainsong-style unison. Background rasps, bops and scrapes in double time from the drummers coupled with sul tasto bass patterns provide proper framework for Gustafsson rupturing every note as it rolls off his tongue and Mockŭnas’ vocalized interventions.

Conversely, as the only horn(s) in RPM, Mockŭnas’ output is more moderato and serpentine, arriving more from his diaphragm than his throat. Similarly Pasborg, who in the past has worked with saxophonist John Tchicai and French guitarist Marc Ducret, never hammers his point home, but uses concussion and friction to interlock with the others’ timbres. Riis too avoids sucking all the available space from the tunes by selectively adding signal processed and oscillated tones. This isn’t his first improvisational foray either. He was also a member of the Expanded Botanics band with Phillipp Wachsmann on violin and electronics and percussionist Peter Ole Jørgensen.

Time-shifting drones and crackles adding depth to the acoustic instruments’ output so that the result is almost tensile. “Honey Pot”, for example, blends chromatic tenor saxophone lines, quasi-Native American drum beats and blurry signal processing. In contrast, “Dingo” reveals what can be achieved with footstep-paced drumming, gong-like resonation, signal-processed delays and watery multiphonics from the reedist.

Appended throughout are timbre-tinctures which add to the overall sound picture without being undifferentiated. Thus mallet-driven vibe-like concussion, accordion-like swells or a thudding bass line result from the extended techniques expressed with skill by Mockŭnas and Pasborg, as much as from the signal-processing and ring modulator clangs that are the province of Riis’ lap top. Although variations of pitch and temp create off-handed references to other sounds, RPM’s vision stays constant.

Different sides to the Free Improv coins, these CDs not only capture evolving sounds in Northern Europe, but also give greater exposure to Lithuanian musicians unjustly almost unknown outside of their own country.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Rød: Track List: 1. Honey Pot 2. Light Light 3. Afro Pling 4. Reveille 5. Pit Cult 6. Pan Clock 7. Dingo 8. Cyborgs Prelude 9. Rotations 10. Moist Storm

Personnel: Rød: Liudas Mockŭnas (soprano, tenor and baritone saxophones and bass clarinet); Stefan Pasborg (drums) and Jakob Riis (laptop)

Track Listing: 1. Untitled (Just Say No) 2. Untitled (We Don’t Remember) 3. Untitled (Shield) 4. Untitled (The End)

Personnel: Vilnius: Liudas Mockŭnas (soprano, tenor and baritone saxophones and bass clarinet); Mats Gustafsson (baritone and slide saxophones and alto fluteophone); Eugenijus Kanevičus (bass) and Akadijus Gotesmanas and Marijus Aleska (drums)

February 13, 2009

Variations on a Theme

Guelph Jazz Festival Musicians On Their Own
Extended Play

Barry Guy/Mats Gustafsson/Raymond Strid

Tarfala

Maya MCD0801

Junk Box

Cloudy Then Sunny

Libra Records 203-019

John Zorn

News For Lulu

hatOLOGY 650

Matana Roberts

The Chicago Project

Central Control CC1006PR

Wadada Leo Smith’s Golden Quartet

Tabligh

Cuneiform Rune 270

AMMÜ Quartet

AMMÜ Quartet

PAO 50030

Healthy in its adolescence, the Guelph Jazz Festival (GJF) has become Ontario’s pre-eminent festival for improvised music. Now in its 15th year, the GJF presents improvisers in concerts, workshop and symposia. An appealing factor for listeners is that GJF concerts highlight only one of the versatile musicians’ many activities. Recent CDs capture other aspects.

Take British bassist Barry Guy, at Guelph with violinist Maya Homburger and bass clarinetist Jeff Reilly. Except for Guy’s string prestidigitation, that chamber-improv is nearly the opposite of the go-for-broke Energy Music on Barry Guy/Mats Gustafsson/Raymond Strid, Tarfala Maya MCD0801. Two high-octane Swedish players, saxophonist Gustafsson and percussionist Raymond Strid complete the band.

Spewing accentuated timbres, Gustafsson’s cries and snorts demand muscular retorts from the bassist. On the title track Guy uses guitar-like arpeggios to match the saxophonist’s echoing split tones, wrapping the friction of individual string pressure into a contrapuntal response. Strid’s rim shots and rattling snares provide the rhythmic glue. Eventually Guy’s harsh twanging plus abrasive sawing at strings near the scroll move the saxophonist’s smears, flattement and flutter-tonguing into contrapuntal counterpoint.

Chromatic bass thumps and conga-like pops from the percussionist push Gustaffson’s extended glossolalia from discursive to convergent on “Icefall”. Guy’s ostinato underpinning and Strid’s pats and pumps neutralize Gustafsson’s honks and tongue slaps into a diminuendo conclusion.

Resolving the clash between rough and gentle voicing, staccato and legato pitches also characterize Junk Box’s Cloudy Then Sunny Libra Records 203-019. Two members of the trio, Japanese pianist Satoko Fujii and trumpeter Natsuki Tamura play the GJF. A composer-arranger, Fujii explores new territory on this CD, using graphic notation to spur the improvisations. Junk Box’s third member is American drummer John Hollenbeck, capable of rhythmic interaction ranging from rattles and pumps from tam-tams and marimba to full military press rolls and bass drum thwacks.

On “One Equation”, Tamura uses split tones and triplets to create a call-and-response section all by himself, as Fujii plays the tremolo melody in tandem. “Opera by Rats” emphasizes piano pedal action as the theme shifts from Bop to Stride, while the trumpet brays and Hollenbeck snaps cymbals and pops snares. This popping serves as a coda to “Back and Forth”, which also describes the trio’s tonal connection. Tamura’s timbre is French horn-like as he echoes Fujii’s phrases, and the track concludes with cascading piano chords draping themselves over the others’ note clusters.

There a similar interchange among alto saxophonist John Zorn, trombonist George Lewis and guitarist Bill Frisell on News For Lulu hatOLOGY 650. This 1987 reissue is different, yet somewhat similar to the three sets of Radical Jewish Culture Zorn is presenting at GJF this year. Rather then re-interpreting and re-conceptualizing Jewish melodies, Lulu does the same for Hard-Bop classics. Yet as devotional or freylach-like ditties are transformed with percussion, electronics and electric guitars by Zorn at GJF, this CD performs a similar conversion as raucous blowing vehicles become recital-ready.

Both the guitarist and trombonist – who have performed at Guelph – are responsive enough to keep things moving, despite the lack of a rhythm section. Surprisingly, it’s often Lewis’ gutbucket braying which holds the pieces together from the bottom. “Venita’s Dance”, has the trombonist comping as the guitarist loops licks that turn to single-note filigree. Later Zorn steadily peeps and Lewis chromatically exposes the head. “Funk in Deep Freeze” isn’t funky, but instead finds Frisell distorting country-styled licks, Lewis roughening his tone and Zorn’s alto texture slinky and airy.

“Sonny’s Crib” plays up gospel inflections with the two horns passing on the theme like relay runners. Zorn double times, Lewis plays rubato variations and Frisell picks out blues tonality until the introduction is recapped by the altoist. “Melody for C” with conclusive organ-like reverb from Frisell, provides an opportunity for three-part harmony, with the trio’s improvisations divided into fuzzy multiphonics.

Matana Roberts also twists the jazz tradition, but less radically. The alto saxophonist, who brings her Coin Coin Continuum to the GJF, celebrates her own home town on The Chicago Project Central Control CC1006PR. Other Chicagoans contribute: drummer Frank Rosaly, bassist Josh Abrams, guitarist Jeff Parker – whose band Tortoise is at Guelph this year – and veteran tenor saxophonist Fred Anderson. In 2002 Anderson, played an incendiary GJF set with Kidd Jordan. Saxophonist Jordan (see Whole Note Vol. 13 #9) plays Guelph again this year.

In the same league as the Jordan-Anderson meeting, Roberts a capella duet with Anderson features swirling staccato lines intersecting contrapuntally – finally reaching rapprochement. On “Nomra”, she and Parker prove that free improvising can be low-key and supple, highlighting resonating guitar licks and tasteful saxophone arpeggios. Tunes are tougher elsewhere. “Exchange”, built on a walking bass line and the drummer’s repeated flams showcases Parker’s distorted flanges and bottleneck-sharp runs that contrast with Roberts’ fruity tone and slide-slipping vibrato. “Thrills” is a POMO blues with the saxophonist rooster-crowing and double-tonguing, Parker snapping delayed echo and Rosaly smacking the backbeat.

Pianist Vijay Iyer produced The Chicago Project and he’s at GJF 2008 with DJ Spooky. But it’s electric piano and synthesizer he brings to trumpeter Wadada Leo Smith’s Golden Quartet CD Tabligh Cuneiform Rune 270. Drummer Shannon Jackson and bassist John Lindberg are equally “Golden”.

Atmospherically referencing Fusion, but with simplistic beats leeched out, the disc’s color comes from Iyer’s Fender Rhodes pulsations. Strumming cadenzas backed with swaggering synthesizer drones, Iyer lets Jackson’s solid ruffs and Lindberg’s four-square rhythm anchor the compositions. On top of this ever-shifting bottom, Smith arches long-lined slurs and unhurried grace notes. Replicating a bugler’s tattoo, on “Rosa Parks”, or a bellicose call-to-arms on “DeJohnette”, the trumpet’s lines encompass high-pitched brassy trills and sputtering Bronx cheers. Extended essays in improvisations, Tabligh’s tunes bond fragmented brass slurs, cross-handed rim shots, kinetic piano cadences and string scratches into throbbing instant compositions.

Instant composition describes the music of Holland’s Instant Composers Pool (ICP), in residence at the GJF this year. But the creative ferment generated by the band is equally expressed when ICP band members work in smaller groupings. One is AMMÜ Quartet’s AMMÜ Quartet PAO 50030. Raucous drummer Han Bennink – with the band for 35 years – and unflappable violinist Mary Oliver – a 10-year ICP veteran – join forces with Munich-based cellist Johanna Varner and trombonist Christopher Varner. The Varners produce the sort of timbres Oliver and Bennink hear in the ICP from trombonist Wolter Wierbos and cellist Tristan Honsinger.

Never one to play presto when he can play staccatissimo, or pianissimo when fortissimo can be sounded, Bennink continually clinks, clanks, bangs, whacks and thwacks. So it’s instructive to hear his duets with the trombonist. Varner ejaculates speedy, emphasized brays, moving from vocalized syllables to tongue stops and alp-horn-like flutters. Amazingly this results in textures that fit hand-in-glove – or mute-in-bell –with the drummer’s bomb-dropping bangs and cymbal crashes. On their duet Oliver squeaks and spatters sul ponticello as the cellist responds with strums and shuffle bowing.

This comfortable creativity amplifies when the four play together. On “Improvisation II”, the trombone’s contrapuntal buzzes and the violin’s spiccato runs chase one another as the cellist double-stops and Bennink jabs and rebounds. As the strings distort into double counterpoint, the trombonist puts aside distended subterranean timbres for dog-whistle shrilling. Other times the drummer’s kettle-drum-like resonation faces legato coloration from the cello; alternately, wide, chromatic notes from the trombonist complement string-stropping from Oliver. Stop-time and polytonality characterize “Ammü”, although pitch clusters from the strings and horn can’t overcome Bennink’s frenetic time-keeping.

GJF audiences, exhilarated by what they hear live can be equally impressed by these CDs.

-- Ken Waxman

-- For Whole Note Vol. 14 #2

October 8, 2008

MAWJA

Studio One
Al Maslakh Recordings MSLKH 07

MAWJA

“Live One”

Chloë 008

Various Artists

Beirut-Ystad

Olof Bright Editions OBCD 16-17

Tom Chant/Sharif Sehnaoui

Cloister

Al Maslakh Recordings MSLKH 05

Despite the political instability and sectarian violence that continues to disrupt the country, improbably enough the nascent Lebanese Free Music movement seems to progress from strength to strength.

Not only does Beirut’s annual festival of improvised music attract major Free Music stylists from overseas, but Lebanese improvisers are starting to travel and make an impression elsewhere. This situation is reflected in this set of impressive CDs. Just as importantly, it also confirms the universality of improvisation. Reductionist and electro-acoustic, the results heard from the locals are no more stereotypical Middle Eastern than others’ improvisations reflect Continental Europe or the United States.

To move from the general to the particular, Beirut-based trumpeter and cornetist Mazen Kerbaj’s two CDs with Massachusetts-based cellist Vic Rawlings and New York state-based bassist Michael Bullock as MAWJA, were recorded at four different gigs the brassman played with the two in the United States. British saxophonist Tom Chant’s duets with guitarist Sharif Sehnaoui were recorded in Paris; while Beirut-Ystad, which was recorded in an art museum and studio in Hammerhög, Sweden, features seven Lebanese improvisers collaborating in different formations with12 of their European counterpoints from Sweden, Denmark, Germany and the Netherlands

In common with many 21st Century improvised music sessions, the Lebanese-plus creations can be divided into acoustic and electric CDs. For example, both MAWJA discs focus as much on Rawlings’ surface electronics and Bullock’s electronic feedback as the instruments’ unvarnished timbres; whereas Cloister is all acoustic. A two-CD-set, Beirut-Ystad showcases ad-hoc new groupings on nearly every track, with the players using a combination of electronic and acoustic instruments.

When it comes to the Kerbaj/Rawlings/Bullock CDs, there’s almost no difference between how the three approach a live or a studio session. However “Live One” appears more animated, perhaps because the two performances – although only slightly lengthier than a couple on Studio One – seem to gain additional energy and new ideas from the surroundings. On the nearly-30 minute Washington D.C. performance for instance, the metallic buzz and motor-grinding never masks unique, individual textures. Expanded spectral interaction includes bubbling mouthpiece assertions, dog-like yaps and slide-whistle-like interjections from the cornetist; full frontal slaps and pats plus sul ponticello scraping from the stringed instruments; and percussive pulsations that range from ring modulator pulsing to what could be electric shaver action and marbles being rolled in irregular patterns. Inchoate and suggesting crossed wire interference and intermittent AC/DC pulsations, the backing oscillations ratchet through the undertow to expose an intermezzo of jagged, fortissimo whines, which finally subside into rough, connective timbres.

Woody belly-and-waist reverberations from the cello and bass plus flutters and puffs from Kerbaj as well as fungible, contrapuntal modulations from a variety of electronic add-ons are present on this CD’s other track as well as on all of Studio One. This isn’t surprising since both discs were literally recorded within days of one another. However the improvisations seem to be most expressive when the traditional instruments’ properties can be isolated from the envelopes of concentrated jackhammer pressure, dense band-saw-like buzzing and woozy feedback.

Thus a single clear brass note or an emphasized deep breath from the trumpet or gentle rubs or fortissimo snaps from the strings provide more of a context for the lengthening knob-twisted sputters and drones surrounding and sonically replacing these timbres as the six tracks evolve. Flanged resonations, wire-in-socket shrills and triggered, spacey wave forms pitch-slide from background to foreground , while double-tongued, brass flourishes, wood rubbing or spiccato plucks are also stripped to their spectral nodes. The resulting echoing flanges, sideband clanging and stretched tonal twitters reveal themselves as being directed by humans, making the cumulative interface that much more impressive.

In a similar fashion Beirut-Ystad helps to define and expand this electro-acoustic divide. Interestingly enough though only six of the 17 tracks feature electronics. Even the most highly electric ones such as “CH/JH/JR” and “JH/JR/PS” create a rapprochement between the two approaches. On the later piece, Per Svensson, one of the major figures in Swedish noise music, displays chiming guitarist runs and flat-picking to counteract the grinding input and output signals plus lap top extensions and flanges from Danish laptopper Jakob Riis and Lebanese electronic manipulator – and philosophy teacher – Jassem Hindi.

In contrast, on “JH/JR/PS”, in spite of the arena rock feedback, watery sputtering and twittering wave forms from Riis and Hindi, Beirut’s Charbel Haber’s guitar is only rarely masked. And that happens only when crackling circular pulsations reach a nearly painful aural threshold. Droning simultaneously the two seem to suck up most of the sonic impulses.

On the other hand, despite the robust whooshes and rondo wiggling vibrations from the laptop of Sweden’s Lise-Lotte Norelius on AS/CS/LN” and “CH/LN/MG”, the spiccato scrapes of Hammerhög resident Amit Sen’s cello are clearly heard. Intermittent trills and reductionist timbres from Paris-based Christine Sehnaoui are also plainly audible, while the characteristic yelps and growls from Sweden’s Mats Gustafsson’s baritone saxophone demonstrate how he has been able to overpower not only electronics, but not be intimidated by veteran Energy players such as saxophonist Peter Brötzmann.

Combining the properties of acoustic styling and electronics, the four plectrumists on “Guitars” produce the only other track that could be termed full-out electronics. Yet here the typewriter-like clinking, triggered wave forms and motor-turning coexist with plucking and ringing standard string tuning. Berlin’s Annette Krebs and Stockholm’s David Stackenäs – a sometime Gustaffson collaborator – use table-top guitars, while Haber and Beirut’s Sharif Sehnaoui – a member of the group Rouba3i with Kerbaj and Christine Sehnaoui – strum their guitars in the usual manner.

Providing linkage not only between acoustic and electronic interface, but also between Free Jazz and Free Music plus Europe and the Middle East, is veteran percussionist Sven Åke Johansson. Swedish-born, but a long-time Berlin resident, Johansson, who played with Brötzmann and others in EuroJazz’s infancy confirms his support for young improvisers by joining Rouba3i for one improv and partnering Christine Sehnaoui in two other groups – one completed by Gustaffson and the other by Dutch crackle box inventor Michel Waisvisz, who was in a trio with the percussionist in the 1970s.

That track plus the ones with the three young improvisers provides some of the most emotionally profound sounds on the two-CD set. “Roubait3i+Sven Åke Johansson” finds the drummer linking the tick-tock rolls, conga-like hand beats and cymbal scrapes of Free Jazz with the near-reductionist ethos of the other three. Kerbaj contributes mouthpiece kisses and reverberating gargling; C. Sehnaoui abrasive aviary cries and irregular vibrato, while the most physical of the trio, guitarist Sehnaoui squeezes out undulating electronic flanges. Johansson adds brush swipes and drum-top reverberations.

On the other track, because Waisvisz’s primitive electronics are so lo-tech, the snaps and wiggles he produces successfully destroy any fourth wall that exists between his instrument and C. Sehnaoui’s and Johansson’s acoustic ones. A three-sided Catherine Wheel, the resulting miasma finesses altissimo screeches, hollow body tube blows, accordion-like bellows, rustles and floor scrapes and what sounds like backwards running tape flanging. Each player’s high pitches bond for the finale.

With acoustic instruments paramount, the most notable of the other tracks are those in which the minimalist fare developed by the Lebanese musicians is given a boost into expanded overtones with the harsh baritone saxophone honks and tongue slaps from Gustafson. Otherwise the Middle Eastern musicians – who also include bassist and video artist Raed Yassin –zigzag through a diminishing timbre collection of horn-pressured growling striations and choked parlando; string pulses that encompass tangling, untangling and shifting parameters; plus concussive or distracted percussive scrapes.

More representative of the cross-Continental exchange though is the meeting of Krebs’ table-top instrument and the bass clarinet of London-based, Lebanese bass clarinetist Bechir Saadé. Almost an object lesson in the potential rapprochement between east and west available, this acoustic and electronic interface evolves over 10½ minutes. During the course of the performance it’s buoyed as much by Krebs’ suddenly interjected sound samples plus intermittent on-and-off buzzes as Saadé’s unforced, tongue-stopped and split-tone reed output. Combining barking shouts, harmonica-like wheezing and linear body tube gusts, the reed output balances the scattered, triggered and crackling string pulses. Harmonized, the sound is gradually drained into silence.

Although individual pitches and tones are exposed, a similar strategy evolved about 18 months earlier on three long improvisations recorded in his Paris apartment by guitarist Sehnaoui with British soprano saxophonist Tom Chant, known for his work with drummer Eddie Prévost.

Gradually becoming comfortable with one another’s idiosyncrasies, each subsequent improv is longer than the proceeding one and fascination results from observation of the two pulling apart and knitting together pulses and tones. Sehnaoui, who spends as much time picking beneath the bridge of his acoustic guitar as near the sound hole, and who rubs and slaps his strings as often as he picks, also introduces arpeggios and jetes that could only result from using a bow. For his part Chant vacillates between watery trills, spittle-encrusted slurps and in continuously breathed phrases.

As Chant’s glottal punctuation becomes more wonky and striated – bringing the ligature and alloy of the horn into play as much as the reed – the guitarist treats his instrument as an idiophone with rattles and friction used as sound sources.

Eventually rasgueado pressure and string-hammering are emphasized by the guitarist to such an extent that it sounds as if he’s triggering electronic wave forms. Accordingly, the more-than-24½ minute final variation becomes an exercise in dissonance. Chant outputs ragged honks and windpipe narrowed breaths, while Sehnaoui becomes more percussive with slurred fingering leading to highly rhythmic agitato runs and arco-impersonating buzzing resonations. With Sehnaoui’s fingers propelling an orienteering race on the strings, the saxophonist’s irregular vibrato turns to whippoorwill-like caws echoing inside the horn’s body tube. Mixing spetrofluctuation from Chant’s horn with actions that sound as if Sehnaoui is detuning his strings as he plays, the finale includes a protracted bass string thump and dissolving irregular reed cries.

Much more successfully musically than any equivalent political meeting between Middle Eastern residents, Europeans and Americans, there’s a wealth of memorable improv to experience on these sessions.

-- Ken Waxman

.

Track Listing: Studio: 1 S1.1 2. S1.2 3. S 1.3 4. S1.4 5. S1.5 6. S1.6

Personnel: Studio: Mazen Kerbaj (trumpet); Vic Rawlings (cello and surface electronics) and Michael Bullock (bass and feedback)

Track Listing: Live: 1. Sept 05: WNUR Chicago, IL 2. Sept 05: Warehouse Next Door, Washington DC

Personnel: Live: Mazen Kerbaj (cornet and objects); Vic Rawlings (cello and surface electronics) and Michael Bullock (bass and feedback)

Track Listing: Beirut: CDA: 1. Roubait3i+Sven Åke Johansson 2. CS/MW/SÅJ 3. JH/JR/PS 4. Lotta Melin invites 5. AK/BS CDB: 1. Guitars 2. CS/MG/SÅJ I-II 3. DS/MG/MK/RY/SS I 4. DS/MG/MK/RY?SS II 5. BS/JR 6. AK/CS/MK I 7. AK/CS/MK II 8. AS/CS/LN 9. CH/LN/MG 10. CS/MG/MK/RY 11. CH/MG 12. CH/JH/JR

Personnel: Beirut: Mazen Kerbaj (trumpet and electronics); Bechir Saadé (bass clarinet and flute); Christine Sehnaoui (alto saxophone); Mats Gustafsson (tenor, slide and baritone saxophones); Sharif Sehnaoui and/or Charbel Haber and/or Annette Krebs and/or David Stackenäs and/or Per Svensson (guitar); Amit Sen (cello); Raed Yassin and/or Joel Grip (bass); Sven Åke Johansson (percussion, voice); Michael Waisvisz (crackle box); Lise-Lotte Norelius (laptop); Jessem Hindi or Hanna Hartman (electronics, miscellaneous little instruments); Jakob Riis (laptop) and Lotta Melin (conduction/dance)

Track Listing: Cloister: 1.Us Three 2. Four Sputnik 3. What About Seven

Personnel: Cloister: Tom Chant (soprano saxophone) and Sharif Sehnaoui (acoustic guitar)

February 19, 2008

Various Artists

Beirut-Ystad
Olof Bright Editions OBCD 16-17

MAWJA

Studio One

Al Maslakh Recordings MSLKH 07

MAWJA

“Live One”

Chloë 008

Tom Chant/Sharif Sehnaoui

Cloister

Al Maslakh Recordings MSLKH 05

Despite the political instability and sectarian violence that continues to disrupt the country, improbably enough the nascent Lebanese Free Music movement seems to progress from strength to strength.

Not only does Beirut’s annual festival of improvised music attract major Free Music stylists from overseas, but Lebanese improvisers are starting to travel and make an impression elsewhere. This situation is reflected in this set of impressive CDs. Just as importantly, it also confirms the universality of improvisation. Reductionist and electro-acoustic, the results heard from the locals are no more stereotypical Middle Eastern than others’ improvisations reflect Continental Europe or the United States.

To move from the general to the particular, Beirut-based trumpeter and cornetist Mazen Kerbaj’s two CDs with Massachusetts-based cellist Vic Rawlings and New York state-based bassist Michael Bullock as MAWJA, were recorded at four different gigs the brassman played with the two in the United States. British saxophonist Tom Chant’s duets with guitarist Sharif Sehnaoui were recorded in Paris; while Beirut-Ystad, which was recorded in an art museum and studio in Hammerhög, Sweden, features seven Lebanese improvisers collaborating in different formations with12 of their European counterpoints from Sweden, Denmark, Germany and the Netherlands

In common with many 21st Century improvised music sessions, the Lebanese-plus creations can be divided into acoustic and electric CDs. For example, both MAWJA discs focus as much on Rawlings’ surface electronics and Bullock’s electronic feedback as the instruments’ unvarnished timbres; whereas Cloister is all acoustic. A two-CD-set, Beirut-Ystad showcases ad-hoc new groupings on nearly every track, with the players using a combination of electronic and acoustic instruments.

When it comes to the Kerbaj/Rawlings/Bullock CDs, there’s almost no difference between how the three approach a live or a studio session. However “Live One” appears more animated, perhaps because the two performances – although only slightly lengthier than a couple on Studio One – seem to gain additional energy and new ideas from the surroundings. On the nearly-30 minute Washington D.C. performance for instance, the metallic buzz and motor-grinding never masks unique, individual textures. Expanded spectral interaction includes bubbling mouthpiece assertions, dog-like yaps and slide-whistle-like interjections from the cornetist; full frontal slaps and pats plus sul ponticello scraping from the stringed instruments; and percussive pulsations that range from ring modulator pulsing to what could be electric shaver action and marbles being rolled in irregular patterns. Inchoate and suggesting crossed wire interference and intermittent AC/DC pulsations, the backing oscillations ratchet through the undertow to expose an intermezzo of jagged, fortissimo whines, which finally subside into rough, connective timbres.

Woody belly-and-waist reverberations from the cello and bass plus flutters and puffs from Kerbaj as well as fungible, contrapuntal modulations from a variety of electronic add-ons are present on this CD’s other track as well as on all of Studio One. This isn’t surprising since both discs were literally recorded within days of one another. However the improvisations seem to be most expressive when the traditional instruments’ properties can be isolated from the envelopes of concentrated jackhammer pressure, dense band-saw-like buzzing and woozy feedback.

Thus a single clear brass note or an emphasized deep breath from the trumpet or gentle rubs or fortissimo snaps from the strings provide more of a context for the lengthening knob-twisted sputters and drones surrounding and sonically replacing these timbres as the six tracks evolve. Flanged resonations, wire-in-socket shrills and triggered, spacey wave forms pitch-slide from background to foreground , while double-tongued, brass flourishes, wood rubbing or spiccato plucks are also stripped to their spectral nodes. The resulting echoing flanges, sideband clanging and stretched tonal twitters reveal themselves as being directed by humans, making the cumulative interface that much more impressive.

In a similar fashion Beirut-Ystad helps to define and expand this electro-acoustic divide. Interestingly enough though only six of the 17 tracks feature electronics. Even the most highly electric ones such as “CH/JH/JR” and “JH/JR/PS” create a rapprochement between the two approaches. On the later piece, Per Svensson, one of the major figures in Swedish noise music, displays chiming guitarist runs and flat-picking to counteract the grinding input and output signals plus lap top extensions and flanges from Danish laptopper Jakob Riis and Lebanese electronic manipulator – and philosophy teacher – Jassem Hindi.

In contrast, on “JH/JR/PS”, in spite of the arena rock feedback, watery sputtering and twittering wave forms from Riis and Hindi, Beirut’s Charbel Haber’s guitar is only rarely masked. And that happens only when crackling circular pulsations reach a nearly painful aural threshold. Droning simultaneously the two seem to suck up most of the sonic impulses.

On the other hand, despite the robust whooshes and rondo wiggling vibrations from the laptop of Sweden’s Lise-Lotte Norelius on AS/CS/LN” and “CH/LN/MG”, the spiccato scrapes of Hammerhög resident Amit Sen’s cello are clearly heard. Intermittent trills and reductionist timbres from Paris-based Christine Sehnaoui are also plainly audible, while the characteristic yelps and growls from Sweden’s Mats Gustafsson’s baritone saxophone demonstrate how he has been able to overpower not only electronics, but not be intimidated by veteran Energy players such as saxophonist Peter Brötzmann.

Combining the properties of acoustic styling and electronics, the four plectrumists on “Guitars” produce the only other track that could be termed full-out electronics. Yet here the typewriter-like clinking, triggered wave forms and motor-turning coexist with plucking and ringing standard string tuning. Berlin’s Annette Krebs and Stockholm’s David Stackenäs – a sometime Gustaffson collaborator – use table-top guitars, while Haber and Beirut’s Sharif Sehnaoui – a member of the group Rouba3i with Kerbaj and Christine Sehnaoui – strum their guitars in the usual manner.

Providing linkage not only between acoustic and electronic interface, but also between Free Jazz and Free Music plus Europe and the Middle East, is veteran percussionist Sven Åke Johansson. Swedish-born, but a long-time Berlin resident, Johansson, who played with Brötzmann and others in EuroJazz’s infancy confirms his support for young improvisers by joining Rouba3i for one improv and partnering Christine Sehnaoui in two other groups – one completed by Gustaffson and the other by Dutch crackle box inventor Michel Waisvisz, who was in a trio with the percussionist in the 1970s.

That track plus the ones with the three young improvisers provides some of the most emotionally profound sounds on the two-CD set. “Roubait3i+Sven Åke Johansson” finds the drummer linking the tick-tock rolls, conga-like hand beats and cymbal scrapes of Free Jazz with the near-reductionist ethos of the other three. Kerbaj contributes mouthpiece kisses and reverberating gargling; C. Sehnaoui abrasive aviary cries and irregular vibrato, while the most physical of the trio, guitarist Sehnaoui squeezes out undulating electronic flanges. Johansson adds brush swipes and drum-top reverberations.

On the other track, because Waisvisz’s primitive electronics are so lo-tech, the snaps and wiggles he produces successfully destroy any fourth wall that exists between his instrument and C. Sehnaoui’s and Johansson’s acoustic ones. A three-sided Catherine Wheel, the resulting miasma finesses altissimo screeches, hollow body tube blows, accordion-like bellows, rustles and floor scrapes and what sounds like backwards running tape flanging. Each player’s high pitches bond for the finale.

With acoustic instruments paramount, the most notable of the other tracks are those in which the minimalist fare developed by the Lebanese musicians is given a boost into expanded overtones with the harsh baritone saxophone honks and tongue slaps from Gustafson. Otherwise the Middle Eastern musicians – who also include bassist and video artist Raed Yassin –zigzag through a diminishing timbre collection of horn-pressured growling striations and choked parlando; string pulses that encompass tangling, untangling and shifting parameters; plus concussive or distracted percussive scrapes.

More representative of the cross-Continental exchange though is the meeting of Krebs’ table-top instrument and the bass clarinet of London-based, Lebanese bass clarinetist Bechir Saadé. Almost an object lesson in the potential rapprochement between east and west available, this acoustic and electronic interface evolves over 10½ minutes. During the course of the performance it’s buoyed as much by Krebs’ suddenly interjected sound samples plus intermittent on-and-off buzzes as Saadé’s unforced, tongue-stopped and split-tone reed output. Combining barking shouts, harmonica-like wheezing and linear body tube gusts, the reed output balances the scattered, triggered and crackling string pulses. Harmonized, the sound is gradually drained into silence.

Although individual pitches and tones are exposed, a similar strategy evolved about 18 months earlier on three long improvisations recorded in his Paris apartment by guitarist Sehnaoui with British soprano saxophonist Tom Chant, known for his work with drummer Eddie Prévost.

Gradually becoming comfortable with one another’s idiosyncrasies, each subsequent improv is longer than the proceeding one and fascination results from observation of the two pulling apart and knitting together pulses and tones. Sehnaoui, who spends as much time picking beneath the bridge of his acoustic guitar as near the sound hole, and who rubs and slaps his strings as often as he picks, also introduces arpeggios and jetes that could only result from using a bow. For his part Chant vacillates between watery trills, spittle-encrusted slurps and in continuously breathed phrases.

As Chant’s glottal punctuation becomes more wonky and striated – bringing the ligature and alloy of the horn into play as much as the reed – the guitarist treats his instrument as an idiophone with rattles and friction used as sound sources.

Eventually rasgueado pressure and string-hammering are emphasized by the guitarist to such an extent that it sounds as if he’s triggering electronic wave forms. Accordingly, the more-than-24½ minute final variation becomes an exercise in dissonance. Chant outputs ragged honks and windpipe narrowed breaths, while Sehnaoui becomes more percussive with slurred fingering leading to highly rhythmic agitato runs and arco-impersonating buzzing resonations. With Sehnaoui’s fingers propelling an orienteering race on the strings, the saxophonist’s irregular vibrato turns to whippoorwill-like caws echoing inside the horn’s body tube. Mixing spetrofluctuation from Chant’s horn with actions that sound as if Sehnaoui is detuning his strings as he plays, the finale includes a protracted bass string thump and dissolving irregular reed cries.

Much more successfully musically than any equivalent political meeting between Middle Eastern residents, Europeans and Americans, there’s a wealth of memorable improv to experience on these sessions.

-- Ken Waxman

.

Track Listing: Studio: 1 S1.1 2. S1.2 3. S 1.3 4. S1.4 5. S1.5 6. S1.6

Personnel: Studio: Mazen Kerbaj (trumpet); Vic Rawlings (cello and surface electronics) and Michael Bullock (bass and feedback)

Track Listing: Live: 1. Sept 05: WNUR Chicago, IL 2. Sept 05: Warehouse Next Door, Washington DC

Personnel: Live: Mazen Kerbaj (cornet and objects); Vic Rawlings (cello and surface electronics) and Michael Bullock (bass and feedback)

Track Listing: Beirut: CDA: 1. Roubait3i+Sven Åke Johansson 2. CS/MW/SÅJ 3. JH/JR/PS 4. Lotta Melin invites 5. AK/BS CDB: 1. Guitars 2. CS/MG/SÅJ I-II 3. DS/MG/MK/RY/SS I 4. DS/MG/MK/RY?SS II 5. BS/JR 6. AK/CS/MK I 7. AK/CS/MK II 8. AS/CS/LN 9. CH/LN/MG 10. CS/MG/MK/RY 11. CH/MG 12. CH/JH/JR

Personnel: Beirut: Mazen Kerbaj (trumpet and electronics); Bechir Saadé (bass clarinet and flute); Christine Sehnaoui (alto saxophone); Mats Gustafsson (tenor, slide and baritone saxophones); Sharif Sehnaoui and/or Charbel Haber and/or Annette Krebs and/or David Stackenäs and/or Per Svensson (guitar); Amit Sen (cello); Raed Yassin and/or Joel Grip (bass); Sven Åke Johansson (percussion, voice); Michael Waisvisz (crackle box); Lise-Lotte Norelius (laptop); Jessem Hindi or Hanna Hartman (electronics, miscellaneous little instruments); Jakob Riis (laptop) and Lotta Melin (conduction/dance)

Track Listing: Cloister: 1.Us Three 2. Four Sputnik 3. What About Seven

Personnel: Cloister: Tom Chant (soprano saxophone) and Sharif Sehnaoui (acoustic guitar)

February 19, 2008

MAWJA

“Live One”
Chloë 008

MAWJA

Studio One

Al Maslakh Recordings MSLKH 07

Various Artists

Beirut-Ystad

Olof Bright Editions OBCD 16-17

Tom Chant/Sharif Sehnaoui

Cloister

Al Maslakh Recordings MSLKH 05

Despite the political instability and sectarian violence that continues to disrupt the country, improbably enough the nascent Lebanese Free Music movement seems to progress from strength to strength.

Not only does Beirut’s annual festival of improvised music attract major Free Music stylists from overseas, but Lebanese improvisers are starting to travel and make an impression elsewhere. This situation is reflected in this set of impressive CDs. Just as importantly, it also confirms the universality of improvisation. Reductionist and electro-acoustic, the results heard from the locals are no more stereotypical Middle Eastern than others’ improvisations reflect Continental Europe or the United States.

To move from the general to the particular, Beirut-based trumpeter and cornetist Mazen Kerbaj’s two CDs with Massachusetts-based cellist Vic Rawlings and New York state-based bassist Michael Bullock as MAWJA, were recorded at four different gigs the brassman played with the two in the United States. British saxophonist Tom Chant’s duets with guitarist Sharif Sehnaoui were recorded in Paris; while Beirut-Ystad, which was recorded in an art museum and studio in Hammerhög, Sweden, features seven Lebanese improvisers collaborating in different formations with12 of their European counterpoints from Sweden, Denmark, Germany and the Netherlands

In common with many 21st Century improvised music sessions, the Lebanese-plus creations can be divided into acoustic and electric CDs. For example, both MAWJA discs focus as much on Rawlings’ surface electronics and Bullock’s electronic feedback as the instruments’ unvarnished timbres; whereas Cloister is all acoustic. A two-CD-set, Beirut-Ystad showcases ad-hoc new groupings on nearly every track, with the players using a combination of electronic and acoustic instruments.

When it comes to the Kerbaj/Rawlings/Bullock CDs, there’s almost no difference between how the three approach a live or a studio session. However “Live One” appears more animated, perhaps because the two performances – although only slightly lengthier than a couple on Studio One – seem to gain additional energy and new ideas from the surroundings. On the nearly-30 minute Washington D.C. performance for instance, the metallic buzz and motor-grinding never masks unique, individual textures. Expanded spectral interaction includes bubbling mouthpiece assertions, dog-like yaps and slide-whistle-like interjections from the cornetist; full frontal slaps and pats plus sul ponticello scraping from the stringed instruments; and percussive pulsations that range from ring modulator pulsing to what could be electric shaver action and marbles being rolled in irregular patterns. Inchoate and suggesting crossed wire interference and intermittent AC/DC pulsations, the backing oscillations ratchet through the undertow to expose an intermezzo of jagged, fortissimo whines, which finally subside into rough, connective timbres.

Woody belly-and-waist reverberations from the cello and bass plus flutters and puffs from Kerbaj as well as fungible, contrapuntal modulations from a variety of electronic add-ons are present on this CD’s other track as well as on all of Studio One. This isn’t surprising since both discs were literally recorded within days of one another. However the improvisations seem to be most expressive when the traditional instruments’ properties can be isolated from the envelopes of concentrated jackhammer pressure, dense band-saw-like buzzing and woozy feedback.

Thus a single clear brass note or an emphasized deep breath from the trumpet or gentle rubs or fortissimo snaps from the strings provide more of a context for the lengthening knob-twisted sputters and drones surrounding and sonically replacing these timbres as the six tracks evolve. Flanged resonations, wire-in-socket shrills and triggered, spacey wave forms pitch-slide from background to foreground , while double-tongued, brass flourishes, wood rubbing or spiccato plucks are also stripped to their spectral nodes. The resulting echoing flanges, sideband clanging and stretched tonal twitters reveal themselves as being directed by humans, making the cumulative interface that much more impressive.

In a similar fashion Beirut-Ystad helps to define and expand this electro-acoustic divide. Interestingly enough though only six of the 17 tracks feature electronics. Even the most highly electric ones such as “CH/JH/JR” and “JH/JR/PS” create a rapprochement between the two approaches. On the later piece, Per Svensson, one of the major figures in Swedish noise music, displays chiming guitarist runs and flat-picking to counteract the grinding input and output signals plus lap top extensions and flanges from Danish laptopper Jakob Riis and Lebanese electronic manipulator – and philosophy teacher – Jassem Hindi.

In contrast, on “JH/JR/PS”, in spite of the arena rock feedback, watery sputtering and twittering wave forms from Riis and Hindi, Beirut’s Charbel Haber’s guitar is only rarely masked. And that happens only when crackling circular pulsations reach a nearly painful aural threshold. Droning simultaneously the two seem to suck up most of the sonic impulses.

On the other hand, despite the robust whooshes and rondo wiggling vibrations from the laptop of Sweden’s Lise-Lotte Norelius on AS/CS/LN” and “CH/LN/MG”, the spiccato scrapes of Hammerhög resident Amit Sen’s cello are clearly heard. Intermittent trills and reductionist timbres from Paris-based Christine Sehnaoui are also plainly audible, while the characteristic yelps and growls from Sweden’s Mats Gustafsson’s baritone saxophone demonstrate how he has been able to overpower not only electronics, but not be intimidated by veteran Energy players such as saxophonist Peter Brötzmann.

Combining the properties of acoustic styling and electronics, the four plectrumists on “Guitars” produce the only other track that could be termed full-out electronics. Yet here the typewriter-like clinking, triggered wave forms and motor-turning coexist with plucking and ringing standard string tuning. Berlin’s Annette Krebs and Stockholm’s David Stackenäs – a sometime Gustaffson collaborator – use table-top guitars, while Haber and Beirut’s Sharif Sehnaoui – a member of the group Rouba3i with Kerbaj and Christine Sehnaoui – strum their guitars in the usual manner.

Providing linkage not only between acoustic and electronic interface, but also between Free Jazz and Free Music plus Europe and the Middle East, is veteran percussionist Sven Åke Johansson. Swedish-born, but a long-time Berlin resident, Johansson, who played with Brötzmann and others in EuroJazz’s infancy confirms his support for young improvisers by joining Rouba3i for one improv and partnering Christine Sehnaoui in two other groups – one completed by Gustaffson and the other by Dutch crackle box inventor Michel Waisvisz, who was in a trio with the percussionist in the 1970s.

That track plus the ones with the three young improvisers provides some of the most emotionally profound sounds on the two-CD set. “Roubait3i+Sven Åke Johansson” finds the drummer linking the tick-tock rolls, conga-like hand beats and cymbal scrapes of Free Jazz with the near-reductionist ethos of the other three. Kerbaj contributes mouthpiece kisses and reverberating gargling; C. Sehnaoui abrasive aviary cries and irregular vibrato, while the most physical of the trio, guitarist Sehnaoui squeezes out undulating electronic flanges. Johansson adds brush swipes and drum-top reverberations.

On the other track, because Waisvisz’s primitive electronics are so lo-tech, the snaps and wiggles he produces successfully destroy any fourth wall that exists between his instrument and C. Sehnaoui’s and Johansson’s acoustic ones. A three-sided Catherine Wheel, the resulting miasma finesses altissimo screeches, hollow body tube blows, accordion-like bellows, rustles and floor scrapes and what sounds like backwards running tape flanging. Each player’s high pitches bond for the finale.

With acoustic instruments paramount, the most notable of the other tracks are those in which the minimalist fare developed by the Lebanese musicians is given a boost into expanded overtones with the harsh baritone saxophone honks and tongue slaps from Gustafson. Otherwise the Middle Eastern musicians – who also include bassist and video artist Raed Yassin –zigzag through a diminishing timbre collection of horn-pressured growling striations and choked parlando; string pulses that encompass tangling, untangling and shifting parameters; plus concussive or distracted percussive scrapes.

More representative of the cross-Continental exchange though is the meeting of Krebs’ table-top instrument and the bass clarinet of London-based, Lebanese bass clarinetist Bechir Saadé. Almost an object lesson in the potential rapprochement between east and west available, this acoustic and electronic interface evolves over 10½ minutes. During the course of the performance it’s buoyed as much by Krebs’ suddenly interjected sound samples plus intermittent on-and-off buzzes as Saadé’s unforced, tongue-stopped and split-tone reed output. Combining barking shouts, harmonica-like wheezing and linear body tube gusts, the reed output balances the scattered, triggered and crackling string pulses. Harmonized, the sound is gradually drained into silence.

Although individual pitches and tones are exposed, a similar strategy evolved about 18 months earlier on three long improvisations recorded in his Paris apartment by guitarist Sehnaoui with British soprano saxophonist Tom Chant, known for his work with drummer Eddie Prévost.

Gradually becoming comfortable with one another’s idiosyncrasies, each subsequent improv is longer than the proceeding one and fascination results from observation of the two pulling apart and knitting together pulses and tones. Sehnaoui, who spends as much time picking beneath the bridge of his acoustic guitar as near the sound hole, and who rubs and slaps his strings as often as he picks, also introduces arpeggios and jetes that could only result from using a bow. For his part Chant vacillates between watery trills, spittle-encrusted slurps and in continuously breathed phrases.

As Chant’s glottal punctuation becomes more wonky and striated – bringing the ligature and alloy of the horn into play as much as the reed – the guitarist treats his instrument as an idiophone with rattles and friction used as sound sources.

Eventually rasgueado pressure and string-hammering are emphasized by the guitarist to such an extent that it sounds as if he’s triggering electronic wave forms. Accordingly, the more-than-24½ minute final variation becomes an exercise in dissonance. Chant outputs ragged honks and windpipe narrowed breaths, while Sehnaoui becomes more percussive with slurred fingering leading to highly rhythmic agitato runs and arco-impersonating buzzing resonations. With Sehnaoui’s fingers propelling an orienteering race on the strings, the saxophonist’s irregular vibrato turns to whippoorwill-like caws echoing inside the horn’s body tube. Mixing spetrofluctuation from Chant’s horn with actions that sound as if Sehnaoui is detuning his strings as he plays, the finale includes a protracted bass string thump and dissolving irregular reed cries.

Much more successfully musically than any equivalent political meeting between Middle Eastern residents, Europeans and Americans, there’s a wealth of memorable improv to experience on these sessions.

-- Ken Waxman

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Track Listing: Studio: 1 S1.1 2. S1.2 3. S 1.3 4. S1.4 5. S1.5 6. S1.6

Personnel: Studio: Mazen Kerbaj (trumpet); Vic Rawlings (cello and surface electronics) and Michael Bullock (bass and feedback)

Track Listing: Live: 1. Sept 05: WNUR Chicago, IL 2. Sept 05: Warehouse Next Door, Washington DC

Personnel: Live: Mazen Kerbaj (cornet and objects); Vic Rawlings (cello and surface electronics) and Michael Bullock (bass and feedback)

Track Listing: Beirut: CDA: 1. Roubait3i+Sven Åke Johansson 2. CS/MW/SÅJ 3. JH/JR/PS 4. Lotta Melin invites 5. AK/BS CDB: 1. Guitars 2. CS/MG/SÅJ I-II 3. DS/MG/MK/RY/SS I 4. DS/MG/MK/RY?SS II 5. BS/JR 6. AK/CS/MK I 7. AK/CS/MK II 8. AS/CS/LN 9. CH/LN/MG 10. CS/MG/MK/RY 11. CH/MG 12. CH/JH/JR

Personnel: Beirut: Mazen Kerbaj (trumpet and electronics); Bechir Saadé (bass clarinet and flute); Christine Sehnaoui (alto saxophone); Mats Gustafsson (tenor, slide and baritone saxophones); Sharif Sehnaoui and/or Charbel Haber and/or Annette Krebs and/or David Stackenäs and/or Per Svensson (guitar); Amit Sen (cello); Raed Yassin and/or Joel Grip (bass); Sven Åke Johansson (percussion, voice); Michael Waisvisz (crackle box); Lise-Lotte Norelius (laptop); Jessem Hindi or Hanna Hartman (electronics, miscellaneous little instruments); Jakob Riis (laptop) and Lotta Melin (conduction/dance)

Track Listing: Cloister: 1.Us Three 2. Four Sputnik 3. What About Seven

Personnel: Cloister: Tom Chant (soprano saxophone) and Sharif Sehnaoui (acoustic guitar)

February 19, 2008

Torden Kvartetten

13 EFGHL
Ninth World Music NWM 035 CD

By Ken Waxman

More profondo than basso, the 13 tracks on this CD plumb the contrapuntal and polyrhythmic tones available from low-pitched instruments. But significantly, 13 EFGHL is concerned with more than that, since the musicians involved – baritone saxophonist Mats Gustafsson and tubaist Per-Âke Holmlander from Sweden and electric bassist Peter Friis Nielsen and percussionist Peter Ole Jørgensen from Denmark – go further than wallow in mineshaft-deep pitches.

In the lineage of extroverted reedists like Albert Ayler and Peter Brötzmann, Gustafsson consistently plays altissimo for full expression of his tongue-slapping, multiphonic screams and metal-rattling timbres. His harsh, stuttering solos contain what could be wounded vulture cries as well as the occasional subterranean rumbles. Most of the low tones are left to Holmlander, whose burping extrusions coupled with Friis Nielsen’s palm-tapping string beats produce a steadying, adagio ostinato. Freed from time-keeping, Ole Jørgensen – who with the bassist has backed-up Brötzmann – further lightens the sound with bell-pealing cymbal shimmers, focused bass drum whacks and pitter-pattering press rolls.

Although the reedist’s shattering cries are most prominent on shorter tracks, notable displays of four-sided co-operation appear on the nearly-13-minute “Udgået, topmodel” and the almost-nine-minute “Med løkken om halsen”. Claustrophobic at points, due to the tubaist’s concentrated, chromatic note-pumping, the former features a reverberant duet between tuba and bass. That is until Holmlander’s quivering pedal point and Jørgensen’s cymbal slaps then push Gustafsson’s previously fractured lines into conclusive counterpoint with the other horn.

A tuba showcase, the other track finds the saxophonist’s widely vibrated split tones superseded by fanned plunger-like timbres from Holmlander that doggedly evolve into subtle grace note elaborations as a finale.

In MusicWorks Issue #99

December 4, 2007

Agustí Fernández & Mats Gustafsson

Critical Mass
psi

Agustí Fernández
Camallera
G3 Records/Sirulita

Agustí Fernández Quartet
Lonely Woman
Taller de Músics/Sirulita

By Ken Waxman
February 27, 2006

Without trying to propose a rigid maxim, it’s evident that much of the best improvised music has come from individuals whose ethnic group was or is removed from the mainstream.

Jazz, of course, was invented by oppressed African Americans, and since that time its most accomplished practitioners have usually been players from Black, Jewish, Italian or other minority backgrounds. The situation is a little more muddled in Europe, but interestingly enough the first universally acknowledged non-American jazzer was a Roma, guitarist Django Reinhardt. While setting up a hierarchy of victimology is silly, it’s instructive to consider, for example, that the two most acclaimed Spanish pianists are Catalan, not majority Spaniards. Tete Montoliu (1933-1997) was a masterful pop-bopper as his many sessions with American sidemen attest; while today, Barcelona-resident Agustí Fernández is similarly accepted in so-called avant-garde jazz circles.

Since the late 1990s Fernández has recorded with such international experimenters as American bassist William Parker and British reedist John Butcher, and is now a regular member of larger ensembles led by saxophonist Evan Parker and bassist Barry Guy. He hasn’t neglected the Catalan scene however, and works with Barcelona-based groups like Trio Local.

His most recent CDs affirm this geographical duality. Critical Mass matches him with Swedish baritone saxophonist Mats Gustafsson; Lonely Woman is a quartet session with three fellow Barcelona residents, one of whom is also in Trio Local; while Camallera is one hour plus of extracts from an all-day [!] live solo concert he gave in Girona, Spain.

Like other self-aware improvisers of any stripe, Fernández likely doesn’t characterize his playing as paramountly reflecting Catalan concerns, but, especially on the solo CD of piano and prepared piano creations, percussive Latinesque inflections appear. It’s the same for Lonely Woman which adds a different time sense to eight Ornette Coleman compositions. Nonetheless, cognizant of European geography, it’s interesting to contemplate who the legitimately “hot” player is, and who the legitimately “cold” one is on Critical Mass.

Ascending from a series of tongue slaps and ratcheting keyboard shuffles, the duo CD’s 10 tracks are abstract, but not cold. Throughout, Gustafsson’s work is as much about lung tissue and constricted throat pressure as the percussive and linear qualities of his tenor and baritone saxophone expositions. Often combining the subtle shading of a Butcher with the balls-to-the-wall concentration of a Peter Brötzmann, the saxophonist melds his note patterns into an output that’s almost organic. Improvising cross patterns in his wake, Fernández produces unique tambourine-like rattling pressures, which encompasses stopped nodes and other conceptualized prepared piano movements, as well as octave jumps, contrasting dynamics and strummed chords from the keyboard itself.

On a selection like the nearly seven-minute “4 Critical Mass 6:53”, for instance, tongue percussion, glottal punctuation and altissimo cries on Gustafsson’s part meet a fantasia of vibrating plucks and slides plus concentrated string agitation from Fernández. Elsewhere, while dramatic interchange results from the contrast between saxophone snorts, growls and snarls and abrasive rumbles and fortissimo keyboard reverberation, lingering, prettier patterns are on show as well. “5 Critical Mass 4:46” highlights near-silent impressionism on the pianist’s part that turns to bowing across the wound strings, the better to complement the short breaths of colored air leaking from the saxophone bell.

Singularly, Gustafsson pumps out spetrofluctuation, key pops, volcanic sputters and glossolalia, with each exposition sharper and louder than the next. Then while playing solo on the penultimate track, Fernández varies his narratives among rolls and rumbles and extends it with pedal work; plucks the internal strings with mini-pincers or other instruments and rubs them with a coarse cloth. Subsequently, polyphonic chords appear when he hammers strings with a mallet while simultaneously rattling the keyboard.

There’s plenty of scope for these and other extended techniques on the six selections that make up Camallera. This tour-de-force adapts prepared piano strategies and electronic interface to an acoustic piano’s the output. Sporadically, in fact, it appears as if the strings and keys themselves are too limited for his expression, so Fernández creates new patterns by hitting the pins, bars and screws of the action so that it resonates as well.

Expressing himself through node-stopping and partials, almost every tune vibrates with unique designs created as the stentorian resonance from balanced tension is disrupted. Entire passages echo with tremolo slides, others sound as if a mini cymbal is resting on top of, and shivering along with, whacked wound strings. Still others unfurl from almost spinet-like delicacy to Spanish-tinged fantasias, which while improvised, suggest baroque inventions. Bottleneck scratches and scrapes that stab the piano’s wood as well as the strings are part of another approach.

This divergence among varied dynamics finally resolves itself in the final quarter of the program. Here cascading waves of pedal-expanded, bass-inflected notes vibrate the sound board and bottom board along with the appropriate sonic sources, but gradually lose their power as dissonant spaces liquefy, making languid timbres as hushed as they were initially strident – finally shrinking first to mini clusters then single notes.

Techniques exhibited on the preceding discs are held in check on Lonely Woman as Fernández shares space with three other players. While some may marvel at circumstances where interpreting Ornette Coleman lines become the most conventional sounds from a trio of discs, Lonely Woman is memorable for another reason. It appears as if the Catalan musicians are able to inhabit the eight tunes through the similar background they share with the Fort Worth, Tex.-born Coleman. Not only is there commonality in the Spanish-inflected themes, but through provincial stubbornness expressed by minority Americans or minority Spaniards.

Latinesque voicing creep into the pianist’s solo and duo work and when on “Latin Genetics” the quartet takes off on a bolero rhythm following internal piano string scraping and tongue slaps from saxophonist Liba Villavecchia, the resulting speedy piano chords and swift bass solo from David Mengual heighten the Hispanic suggestions in Coleman’s innate primitivism.

An associate of Fernández in Trio Local, soprano and tenor saxophonist Villavecchia is also a graduate of the New England Conservatory of Music via a Fulbright scholarship. Bassist Mengual often plays in more mainstream settings, with one of his CDs recently voted Spanish Jazz record of the year. German-born drummer Jo Krause teaches at the jazz and legit conservatories in Barcelona, having spent years before that in Amsterdam.

There’s no extroverted Dutch zaniness here – although the Spaniards did control the Netherlands for a while – but unlike the other sessions, there are examples of mix’n’match musical play acting. At one point, on alto, Villavecchia seems to be channeling Benny Carter; on “What Reason”, the balladic breakdown with piano, bass and drums makes the performance as dreamy and atmospheric as one by the original Bill Evans trio; while “Mob Job” features a dynamic stride excursion with repetitive chordal patterns from the pianist.

More serious are treatment of “Unknown Artist”, which has been recorded under different names, and the extensive – 13 minutes plus – run-through of Coleman’s best-known piece, the title tune. Starting with a polyphonic yet cohesive statement, the former is quickly broken up into disparate parts – twittering alto lines, double flams and rebounds from the drummer and cascading chords that feature two-handed contrasting dynamics from the pianist. Eventually, Villavecchia sounds the familiar theme, which elsewhere is known as “Dancing In Your Head”, backed by keyboard arpeggios and focused rebounds from the drummer. Krause augments his role with ratcheting cymbal concussion, alternating with bass drum accents, until the saxophonist recaps the head.

Designed as a major statement, “Lonely Woman” begins with a plucked, deep-toned bass intro that sounds as if it migrated over from Charles Mingus’ “Haitian Fight Song”. Layering broken chords, the altoist and pianist expose the familiar line as Krause rumbles and ruffs in an understated manner. Split tones from Villavecchia on tenor saxophone give way to a delicate low-frequency recapitulation of the theme from Fernández that moves from single notes to clusters of tremolo cadenzas as if he was Glenn Gould decoding new meaning from a Bach concerto.

Following variations on the theme from each player, the coda turns abstract; consisting of Villavecchia snorting and squealing and the pianist carving successive slivers of the melody into minute pieces until it disappears.

A major stylist in a variety of settings, these CDs show how Fernández adapts to different circumstances and makes you wonder what other musical surprises could arise from minority Catalonia.

February 27, 2006

ZU/MATS GUSTAFFSON

How to Raise an Ox
Atavistic ALP 168 CD

Fancifully the product of some rough trade miscegenation between The Clash at their punkiest and 1940s R&B-jazz baritone saxophonist Leo “Mad Lad” Parker, the Italian post-rock trio Zu makes common cause with macho Swedish jazzer Mats Gustafsson on this CD. In sheer electric-fuelled power alone, the four could probably blow away the massed Stan Kenton, Maynard Ferguson and Buddy Rich bands – none of which were particularly known for their subtlety.

An antidote to the effete minimalism and microtonalism that affects many European Free Jazzers, HOW TO RAISE AN OX is raunchy improv of the highest order featuring uncomplicated song titles that would gladden the heart of any Death Metal fan and enough pulverizing riffs to make the CD a close cousin to grind core excesses.

When he’s not involved in more subtle efforts with Gush or the Aaly Trio, Gustafsson adopts guitar-hero posturing when playing baritone saxophone with The Thing. That Scandinavian trio also covers White Stripes’ tunes. This manly roughness finds an echo in the iron-fisted sounds of Rome-based Zu. Formed in 1999 by bassist Massimo Pupillo, drummer Jacopo Battaglia and saxophonist Luca Mai – refugees from an Italian underground band called Gronge (sic) – it’s the result of two years of wood-shedding as the three worked to reconcile their equal admiration for the sounds produced by Antonio Carlos Jobim, Charles Mingus, Motorhead and Kraftwerk. Since then, the band has not only recorded with American avant-guitarist Eugene Chadbourne and saxman Ken Vandermark, but Pupillo has also worked in a trio with Italian saxophonist Gianni Gebbia and drummer Lukas Ligeti.

Subtlety isn’t the quartet’s long suit here with Battaglia’s hard-as-nails drum beats more Heavy Metal than Punk, and the twin baris of Mai and Gustafsson screaming altissimo split tones when they’re not rooting like crazed musk oxen through the tunes. In total, the sounds are more reminiscent of Blue Cheer’s thud than the subtlety [!] of Led Zeppelin. Taken on the Herculean role of both lead and bass guitarist, Pupillo ratchets distorted washboard-like scrubbing on his strings at certain points and continual almost monotonous bass riffs elsewhere. On “The King Devours his Sons” for instance, his jangling metal ratcheting makes guitarists like James “Blood” Ulmer and Marc Ribot appear in retrospect as close cousins to nylon-string master Charlie Byrd.

Still, there are points such as on “Beasts Only Die To Be Born” – which seem to be the set’s token ballad – where Battaglia’s unsynchronized patterning reveals that he has more tricks than percussion pulverization on show. Additionally the call-and-response snorts and seemingly random split tones that force themselves from Gustaffson’s and Mai’s horn bells at many opportunities insinuate POMO craftiness rather then naïve primitivism to the tunes.

Overall though, while the nine tough anthems delivered here will never be confused with Smooth Jazz or even Energy Music, a little more restraint in presentation may have convinced otters that improv can be ballsier without every riff being hammered into the ground

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Over A Furnace 2. How to Raise an Ox 3. Eating the Landscape 4. The King Devours his Sons 5. Bring the War Back Home 6. Meat Eaters, Solar Bird 7. Palace of Reptiles 8. Beasts Only Die To Be Born 9. The Tigers Teaches the Lamb

Personnel: Luca Mai and Mats Gustafsson (baritone saxophones); Massimo Pupillo (bass guitar); Jacopo Battaglia (drums)

February 20, 2006

PETER BRÖTZMANN CHICAGO TENTET

Be Music, Night
OkkaDisk OD 12059

This CD may ruin saxophonist Peter Brötzmann’s long-held reputation as the ferocious, hard-hearted wild man of Free Jazz.

For the entire hour-plus CD by the German reedman’s mostly Chicago-based band is designed as homage to American poet Kenneth Patchen (1911-1972). Additionally, the longest – more than 42 minutes – of the three tracks features mellifluous-voiced Welsh poet Mike Pearson integrated into the ensemble reading selections from Patchen’s work that are, for all intents and purposes, love poems.

Patchen, an Ohio-born versifier who lived all over the United States, was a Beat fellow traveler, with a musical quality in some of his poetry. Even before similar experiments by Jack Kerouac, Lawrence Ferlinghetti and Alan Ginsberg, in the late 1950s he recorded LPs reading his verse accompanied by improvising jazz combos. In a way this CD is an extension of those experiments.

Framed by an all-instrumental prelude and even shorter postlude, BE MUSIC, NIGHT unfurls like a tone poem for chamber orchestra. Of course with the massed talent on display – three reeds, two brasses, two strings and two percussionists – the layering provide more than interludes. Mixing brass slurs and pedal tones, expressive reed continuo and stop-time percussion forays, the framing instrumental passages manage to be both lyrical and polyphonic.

Furthermore, to put to rest another Free Jazz myth, the German reedist’s playing has never been as coarse as his detractors insist. As long ago as 1984 he recorded a solo CD, since reissued as 14 LOVE POEMS PLUS 10 MORE (FMP CD 125), which featured improvisations inspired by Patchen’s “14 Love Poems”.

Multiplying the interpretations of the poet’s lyrics nine-fold here, much of the instrumental elucidation depends on tutti passages or impetuous and unexpected fortissimo ejaculations. Besides the horn brays and slurs, cellist Fred Lonberg-Holm is particularly effective in transforming his four strings into an electric guitar spraying discordant effects pedal timbres.

Almost deliberately old-fashioned at times, as if Pearson was reading Elizabethan sonnets, the verse is mixed with tender nocturne-like pitches that are almost as honeyed as the poet/actor’s near whispered tones. But romantic language doesn’t have to bring forth banal responses. Among the textures advanced by the saxophonists – most obviously Brötzmann, though Mats Gustafsson and Ken Vandermark clarinet passages are noticeable as well – are tongue slaps, vibrating key clicks and pops and slurred cries. Also especially effective are the grace notes buzzed by trombonist Jeb Bishop, whose valve-and-bell expansion often partners Pearson’s recitation.

An unexpected pleasure all around, BE MUSIC, NIGHT should appeal to those interested in dramatically recited poetry, those fascinated by the admixture of words and music, and those whose understanding of emotionalism encompasses sound and silences as well as lyrics.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Be Music, Night Part 1 2. Be Music, Night Part 2 3. Be Music, Night Part 3

Personnel: Joe McPhee (trumpet and alto saxophone); Jeb Bishop (trombone); Peter Brötzmann (alto and saxophones, bass clarinet and b-flat clarinet); Mats Gustafsson (baritone saxophone and bass clarinet); Ken Vandermark (baritone saxophone and b-flat-clarinet); Fred Lonberg-Holm (cello); Kent Kessler (bass); Paal Nilssen-Love and Michael Zerang (drums); Mike Pearson (voice)

January 2, 2006

GUSH

Norrköping
Atavistic ALP 161CD

After more than 17 years together, the members of the Swedish-based GUSH now operates as three interlocking parts of one perpetual motion machine.

Occupied enough with other projects, the three – reedist Mats Gustafsson, pianist Sten Sandell and drummer Raymond Strid – bring a complementary desire for melded invention when they unite, as they did in Norrköping in 2003, for this, the band’s first-ever domestic release in North America.

Fully in command of all elements of its instruments, the trio elaborates its thoughts over the course of three long selections of almost 19 minutes, more than 13½ minutes and more than 26½ minutes each. Best known of the three is now Gustafsson, who plays soprano, tenor and baritone saxophones and fluteophone, alto fluteophone and French flageolet here. Veteran of large groups led by German saxophonist Peter Brötzmann and British bassist Barry Guy, as well as smaller bands with American saxophonists Joe McPhee and Ken Vandermark, Gustafsson is as easily at home in the United States as Europe. Inventive timekeeper Strid also works in Guy’s large groups as well as smaller bands. Sandell, not only improvises with Scandinavian players like saxophonist Fredrik Ljungkvist, but as a graduate of Stockholm’s Academy of Music nurtures a fascination for electro-acoustic and contemporary so-called serious music.

Note this most clearly during the more-than-26 minutes of “Rhomb”, as his voicing and touch vibrates from low to high frequencies and all stations in-between. Affecting the outlines of a fantasia that notwithstanding its freedom mingles comfortably with the others’ output, he’s the master of low-key – literally – variations, whereas the remaining two use volume to pump up their solos.

Starting with strummed piano chords, Sandell sensitively works his way from light plinks, to near toy-piano timbres, than finally to gentling harmonies that pull together Gustafsson’s and Strid’s strident outbursts. Meanwhile the saxophonist uses flattement, tongue-stopping, snorts and vocalized yelps to make his point – finally escalating to glossolalia. Midway in vociferousness between the others, the drummer sticks to rim shots and wood-block ratcheting to make his points.

When the reedist’s buzz-saw growls emanating as much from the body tube as the reed, the imperturbable percussionist turns to dedicated cymbal taps, bell ringing and hand drum accents. Then, since Gustafsson insists on displaying more tongue slapping than a child licking a large ice cream cone, Strid’s drumming becomes abstract and arrhythmic, allowing Sandell’s hyperkinetic cadenzas to encircle the saxman’s notes. Double-timing from both sides of the keyboard, the pianist’s polyphonic pulsations augment to clobbering and Strid joins in with a heavy hand and heavy foot on floor tom and hi hat. Returning to cymbal patting and drum stroking to affect an extro, the percussive gestures channel Gustafsson’s outpouring back to a variation of his initial, nearly inaudible intro.

Both other tunes function with similar strategy modifications. Gustafsson may unpack his fluteophones for unvarying intense single tones, yet he doesn’t miss a chance to alternate near silences with cat-like screams, bubbling split tones or rolling tongue stops. Sandell introduces lower-case arpeggios, highly syncopated right-handed actions or contrasting dynamics, as one set of fingers creates tremolo patterns and the other a contrapuntal line. Meanwhile Strid shakes his drum tree, fondles his smaller drum tops suggestively or batters them with full force as the occasion demands.

Familiarity has made GUSH the perfect three-headed improv machine over the past few years and NORRKÖPING merely gives North Americans a chance to catch up with the rest of the Free Music world.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Handpicked 2. Sava 3. Rhomb

Personnel: Mats Gustafsson (soprano, tenor and baritone saxophone and fluteophone, alto fluteophone and French flageolet); Sten Sandell (piano and voice); Raymond Strid (drums)

November 7, 2005

Barry Guy New Orchestra

Oort – Entropy
Intakt

Maya Homburger & Barry Guy with Pierre Favre
Dakryon
Maya

By Ken Waxman
September 11, 2005

Established as one of FreeImprov’s most accomplished composer/bandleaders as well as a major improvising double bassist, Barry Guy continues to extend his musical range.

Having slimmed down his main compositional tool, the 17-piece London Jazz Composers Orchestra (LJCO) to the more compact 10 piece, all-star Barry Guy New Orchestra (BGO), Oort – Entropy shows how the group reconstitutes specific sounds. The idea is to expand musical elements initially conceived for Guy’s trio with American pianist Marilyn Crispell and British drummer Paul Lytton.

Dakryon, on the other hand, explores an even more diminutive facet of his art. A member of an Early Music ensemble early in his career, Guy extends those concepts on several tracks of this CD. Using themes written by composers H.I.F. Biber and Dario Castello in the 17th century, these performances are in part baroque showcases for Guy’s wife, Swiss violinist May Homburger. Filling out the nearly 75-minute CD are contemporary Guy compositions eliciting the skills of the husband-and-wife duo plus Swiss drummer Pierre Favre.

Favre, another first generation Free player, recorded as guest with the LJCO in 1995 – as did Crispell. On Dakryon, he contributes a concluding less-than-two minute percussion solo and on one track with just Guy. However, the most noteworthy trio outing is the almost 19½-minute title track which appends pre-recorded sounds to improvisations.

Beginning with sonorous bass plucks, spiccato swells and lower-case drum rumbles, “Dakryon” expands into swirling interface from Homburger, harder and stronger pizzicato pulls from Guy and rattling and extruded accents from Favre. With pre-recorded chiming accents ornamented with percussion and a near Middle-Eastern interlude of bowed and vibrated double bass notes, the fiddler then contemplatively sounds the melody as ring modulator gong-like signals multiply. Eventually faint drum thumps help bring the ethereal extensions to a logical conclusion.

Favre’s multi-timbral drum kit augmentation allow him to rattle bells, shake cymbals and bounce snares behind Guy’s measured, almost lute-like rasgueado bass work on “Peace Piece”. Impressionistic, Favre’s sympathetic mallet work frames the bassist’s chromatic plucks so that each note echo is like a thrust with a finely honed dagger – incisive, but with no jagged edges.

Much of the CD’s remaining time is taken up by Homburger or Homburger and Guy performing works by two 17th century composers, Bohemian H. I. F. Biber (1644-1704) and Venetian Dario Castello (? - 1658). Biber, whose work was also recorded by the two on Ceremony (ECM), is best-known for his so-called Mystery Sonatas from about 1676, five of which are handled here.

Those compositions, plus other baroque inventions by Castello, take advantage of the violinist’s exquisite tone and phrasing. Legato mostly, staccato and spiccato sometimes, Homburger does more than replicate the proper harmonies. Taking advantage of the composers’ demand for scordatura or re-tuning, she brings a semi-mystical emotionalism to the pieces. True to 17th century basso continuo, Guy interweaves distinctive harmonies, both arco and pizzicato, which reflect his contemporary mindset as well as appropriate baroque techniques.

Moving from the 17th to the 21st century, Oort – Entropy shows how the bassist gives all his soloists and ensemble scope to spontaneously expand past customary boundaries. This is where a cross-section of experiences and cultures comes into play, since nearly every improviser is a veteran from a different country.

Parker and Lytton’s long-time trio-mate, Londoner Evan Parker is featured on tenor and soprano saxophones. The other reeds are Swiss bass clarinetist Hans Koch, who collaborates with numerous other free improvisers, and Swedish tenor and baritone saxophonist Mats Gustafsson, who is part of the GUSH trio with percussionist Raymond Strid, also featured here. Gustafsson and Swedish tubaist Per Åke Holmlander are part of Peter Brötzmann’s Tentet. German trombonist Johannes Bauer has played with everyone from Brötzmann to Australian violinist Jon Rose, while American trumpeter/flugelhornist Herb Robertson is now a member of drummer Gerry Hemingway’s quartet. Taking over BGO’s all-important piano chair from Crispell is Catalan Augustí Fernánderz, who has recorded with players as different in concept as reedist Parker and American bassist William Parker.

All stars are all right for a jam session, but it’s Guy’s framework which gives the 10 a structure within to operate. Especially when the pianist is most energetic, the performance relates to some of Cecil Taylor’s efforts with big bands. Other large groups brought to mind are Count Basie’s New Testament band – for the riffing saxes – Stan Kenton’s most jazz-like ensembles – for the flaunted brass passages – and most definitely Charles Mingus’ The Black and the Sinner Lady band, in the way the bass-lead ensemble leaps from dissonance to relaxation.

Nonetheless there are also plenty of surprises on tap as the three-part suite uncoils. True, Parker shows off his near-patented circular breathing, but there’s a point in “Part II”, where his introduction is positively Lesterian – as in Lester Young. Fernánderz may strum arpeggios and chord edgy tremolos, but he’s also capable of an andante fantasia, constant cadenzas and clinking single-notes.

Besides braying triplets, Robertson adds half-valve, hunting horn sonics that meld with penetrating tuba pedal tones. Plus the penultimate minutes of “Part III” feature Lytton and Strid eschewing their previous roles as colorists for a wholesale double drum volley, alive with paradiddles, rebounds and ruffs, as the horns blast vamps around them. Do you think they individually owned the famous Rich vs. Roach LP?

Koch’s individualistic slurs and snorts give the exposition many of its colors, suspended on top of buzzing notes and stop time emphasis from the brass. Meanwhile altissimo blusters or contrapuntal bass tones from the tuba depict the tincture of the final section.

All and all though, among the polyphonic interludes, Bauer emerges as the most consistently invigorating soloist. Like many post-Roswell Rudd stylists, he has one foot in the early gutbucket tradition and the other in post-modern New music. Balanced solidly by Guy’s architecturally-solid tonal centres that allow each instrument to be heard, he ascends with a series of buzzing and barking textures to a legato chromatic solo, then just as briskly drips burred notes one at a time as he descends the scale.

Depending on whether you want your Guy in a miniature setting or piloting a large, integrated ensemble, either CD – or both – can satisfy.

September 12, 2005

PETER BRÖTZMANN CHICAGO TENTET

Signs
Okkadisk OD 12048

MS4
PETER BRÖTZMANN CHICAGO TENTET
Images
Okkadisk OD 12047

More than five years after it was first organized, German reedist Peter Brötzmann’s mostly Chicago-populated Tentet has become a welcomed presence on the international improv scene.

In the tradition of the Globe Unity Orchestra -- of which Brötzmann was also a member -- the reed-heavy band plays long, involved compositions more concerned with spur of the moment interpretation than elaborate arrangements. Yet, as this matched set of live and studio material demonstrates, the 10-piece band actually sounds best when organized patterns and section work are added to the massed firepower.

Overall, the tentet is most impressive as a full-fledged band. Yet only Ken Vandermark takes full advantage of its varied colors on his more than 37-minute “All Things Being Equal” on IMAGES. Most ambitious and the longest tune on either disc, its overture is made up of gathered horn cadenzas, resonating hand drumming from Hamid Drake and a walking bass line from Kent Kessler. Soon second drummer Michael Zerang pounds out a counter rhythm and, in sections, the brass and reeds pile on top of one another polytonally.

Irregular backing figures from the band, give Joe McPhee’s trumpet the space to push out higher notes with flutter tongue ornamentation. Next up, saxist Mars Williams sprays a circular set of splayed, staccato notes before the theme is reprised for the first time. The split tone sopranino solo continues abstractly -- falling from pinched altissimo to unrefined low timbres -- as the dual drummer pitter-patter and pop behind him. Then, from among the polyphonic harmonies appear sul tasto tremolos from cellist Fred Lonberg-Holm, muted wah-wah trumpet counterpoint, and a gentle pastoral eclogue from the others.

Trombonist Jeb Bishop introduces rubato slurs that bounce off trumpet trills and spiccato sweeps from the strings. Blowing harshly, he gets most of his individualism from echoes. Following is a series of tongue slaps plus key percussion and glottal punctuation from Swede Mats Gustafsson or Vandermark on baritone. Adding lip-smacking verbal tones to ponticello bass movements and hand drumming, this orchestral formation adds up to the DKV trio writ large. Then, trilled slurs from the trumpeter, snaky chalumeau lines from Brötzmann’s clarinet and ride cymbal patter from Zerang are added.

The clarinet’s spittle squeaks soon meet up with baritone snorts and staccato interpolations from the brass. Pushed to a quicker tempo by two drum kits’ rough smears and irregular flutter-tonguing invigorate the reeds as Bishop’s slide ranges over the thematic variations. The climax refreshes all concerned, as horns, percussion and strings meld into a miasmic legato howl, with an Ornette Coleman-like folksy finale arriving with polyphonic counterpoint.

Inspirational in their own way, the other tunes pale in comparison to this one, with the exception of Brötzmann’s title track on SIGNS. But even here, the piece that’s almost exactly half the length of “All Things Being Equal” is most convincing because most of the players get to strut their stuff. With polyharmonic and polytonal passages reminiscent of John Coltrane’s “Ascension” or Brötzmann’s “Machine Gun”, there are instances of the band members improvising every which way as their dissonant textures mass then explode -- a musical foliage of smears, burrs, cries, hoots and snorts. Electrified -- but playing acoustically -- Lonberg-Holm rampages out flat-picked notes as the horns join for hocketing, squealing pantonality.

A double-tongued alto solo from Williams vibrates its way into R&B territory, trailed by battering percussion and stentorian runs from the two baritone saxists. Finally, after Brötzmann snakes out some nasal tarogato notes complete with glissandi, chesty-toned fortissimo reeds circle back to riff counterthemes and the cellist scrapes his strings as if he was severing them at the bridge.

Individual passages stand out elsewhere, but all the other tunes are made up of little more than isolated passages from different instruments with no attempt to bond them into a whole. Impressive they may be, but when soloists are heard a cappella or as duos in isolation, they raise the question of what the other band members were doing -- and why they were present at all. The other glaring oversight here is proper identification of soloists. Much of the description above is based on knowledge and guesswork.

Followers of any of the musicians may rate these sessions more highly -- and there’s certainly nothing second-rate or offensive about them. It merely seems that with the massed talents on display from Chicago and Europe -- not to mention upstate New York’s McPhee -- much more could have been done in terms of arrangements and organization.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Signs: 1. Bird notes (for Bengt Nordström) 2. Six Gun Territory 3. Signs

Track Listing: Images: 1. All Things Being Equal 2. Images

Personnel: Signs and Images: Joe McPhee (trumpet); Jeb Bishop (trombone); Peter Brötzmann (alto and tenor saxophones, A clarinet, tarogato); Mars Williams (sopranino, alto and tenor saxophones); Ken Vandermark(tenor and baritone saxophones, Bb clarinet); Mats Gustafsson (tenor and baritone saxophones); Fred Lonberg-Holm (cello); Kent Kessler (bass); Michael Zerang and Hamid Drake (drums)

December 6, 2004

JOHN BUTCHER/GINO ROBAIR

New Oakland Burr
Ratascan BRD 051

PAAL NILSSEN LOVE/MATS GUSTAFSSON
I Love It When You Snore
Smalltown Supersound STS 063 CD

Stripping down to essentials, intrepid improvisers find solos and duos present unvarnished sounds with the fewest possible obstructions.

Especially popular are discs that match a single reedist with a single percussionist to see what sparks fly. Participants in these two short CDs recorded around the same time have frequently been involved in similar situations. While all four have the scope to display outstanding, extended techniques, nowhere is there a feeling that these aren’t just new notches in the players’ belt. They may be impressive to newbies, but they’re not near any of the player’s highest standard.

British saxophonist John Butcher and Bay-area percussionist Gino Robair score higher, but only because their instrumental range is wider. Butcher plays tenor and soprano saxophones, either acoustically or through amplified feedback, while Robair expresses himself on cymbals, toy reed, styrofoam, faux dax, ebow snare and motors. Still the varied textures they can bring to the performance are dissipated over 16 [!] tracks on the little more than 40-minute CD.

Clocking in at 32 minutes, the other session shoehorns seven tracks performed by Swedish baritone saxophonist Mats Gustafsson and Norwegian percussionist Paal Nilssen-Love onto the disc. Throughout, the pattern seems to be the saxist expelling massive sprays of buzzing, reed-biting mouth percussion, heavy on the vocalized vibrato as the drummer responds with cross sticking bounces and rolls in a variety of tempos.

Gustafsson, whose international reputation includes membership in Barry Guy’s New Orchestra and a partnership in different combos with American saxist Ken Vandermark, wastes no time showcasing his collection of intense tongue slaps, growling mouth percussion, glottal tongue stops and intense overblowing. Often his grunting effort is such that it appears as if he’s trying to resolve an intestinal blockage as he plays.

Meanwhile Nilssen-Love, who has backed a clutch of reedists including Butcher and Vandermark, gives as good as he gets.

His irregular patterning includes such extensions as focused cymbal or triangle pops, cymbal scrapes, rim shots, concentrated snare pressure, sudden breaks into march tempo, resonating cymbal lines, a split-second excursion into montuno and single bell-like peals.

Typical of the duet is “Shake Off”, where Gustafsson’s split tone slurs into false registers lead to bubbling lip smacks, pops and key percussion. Nilssen-Love soon picks up the pace with ratamacues, matching the reedman honk for honk and snort for snort. Moving from march time with inverted sticking, he makes a rapprochement with the saxist’s splintering tone by the end.

Deplorably that description could apply to most of the other tunes as well. I LOVE IT WHEN YOU SNORE could have benefited from variations in time and tempo.

Persistent sameness weakens some of the tracks on NEW OAKLAND BURR, as does the feeling that a few of the shorter ones are little more than experiments in technique. “Slug Tag’ for instance, focus on a drumstick scratch on the cymbal that with waves of widened reed tones resolves itself as a variation on ear-splitting heavy metalism. “Tucking” is little more than one minute of sluicing tones from Robair’s styrofoam leavened by harmonic breaths from Butcher; and “Pudsey Surprise” could be 44 seconds of someone blowing through a comb and tissue paper.

Far more toothsome are tracks like “One side is with a pea, the other pealess” -- who thinks of these titles? -- and “Blagovest”. The first features what are evidentially Robair’s motor dragging on top of an inflexible surface, with Butcher’s tongue slaps, doits and tongue stops providing the percussion rhythm. Robair then counters with what sounds like a robotic Bronx cheer, if a Robot did that while electricity passes through its body. Finale is the reedist’s circular breathing, plus squalling buzzing whistles from somewhere.

“Blagovest” showcases those abrasive tissue paper timbres from Butcher that link with Robair producing more lacerating tones from his toy reed, faux dax or air filled cheeks. Soon the squeals and shrieks are so incessant and higher-pitched that you’re reminded of feeding time at the puppy mill. Taking the animal metaphor farther, Butcher seems to be pulling duck calls from his reed.

“Fid” finds Butcher -- likely helped by electronics -- creating double counterpoint with himself,. Two melodies from this single source are displayed on top of undulating drones from Robair’s percussion collection. With a cornucopia of multiphonics multiplying to fill every aural space, the reverberations that remain when the track end are like those you still hear after a heavy metal guitarist has switched off his amp after a blistering solo.

Still other improvisations are illustrations of their titles, as “Cajun Squeal” which matches Butcher’s concise trilled timbre with the squeaking of Robair’s dax -- or is it a plastic toy? -- and “Whine Model” that may use a sequencer to split a continuous feedback shrill so that it becomes louder and more rasping.

Again, many of these trompe d’oreille have been exhibited elsewhere.

Completists and committed followers of these men’s works, singly or together may rate the discs higher. From this perspective, however, both CDs offer up good, but not great work. The later can be found elsewhere.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Burr: 1. Throat rust 2. Poundering 3. Wrong and Home 4. Slug Tag 5. Tucking 6. Pudsey Surprise 7. Cajun Squeal 8. Whine Model 9. Fid 10. Snub 11. 20p Uncle 12. Peal 13. Blagovest 14. Vug 15. One side is with a pea, the other pealess 16. Louche

Personnel: Burr: John Butcher (tenor and soprano saxophones plus amplified feedback); Gino Robair (cymbals, toy reed, styrofoam, faux dax, ebow snare, motors)

Track Listing: Snore: 1. I Love It 2. Come Lie Closer 3. Face Make 4. Lightning Bug 5. Shake Off 6. Snarcus Brutalis 7. When You Snore

Personnel: Snore: Mats Gustafsson (baritone saxophone); Paal Nilssen-Love (percussion)

November 15, 2004

DAVID GRUBBS & MATS GUSTAFSSON

Off-Road
Blue Chopsticks BC 11

KEITH ROWE/MICHEL DONEDA/URS LEIMGRUBER The Difference Between a Fish
Potlatch P302

Differences between noise and resonance, silence and stillness are explored on these recent examples of EuroImprov. Coming from either side of the quiet/discord continuum, the CDs manage to prove that each auditory position is as legitimate as the other. It just depends how the sound atoms are manipulated.

On OFF-ROAD Swedish reedist Mats Gustafsson, a master of the post-Ayler shrieks hooks up with American post-rock instrumentalist David Grubbs and -- on three tracks -- countryman turntablist Henry Moore Selder to produce noise essays bisected with quiet paragraphs. THE DIFFERENCES BETWEEN A FISH showcases degrees of stillness and freak intonation produced by British guitar and electronics manipulator Keith Rowe, French soprano saxophonist Michel Doneda and Swiss-born, Paris-domiciled Urs Leimgruber on soprano and tenor saxophones

Only 33 1/3 (sic) minutes long spread over six tracks, the Grubbs/Gustafsson disc is a far cry from the saxman’s Free Jazz excursions with the AALY trio and Gush. At the same time it also offers up myriad colors, unlike the static improv of the duo’s previous recorded meeting.

Characteristically clangorous on “Rendezvous Up North”, Gustafsson at first unleashes a circus ring full of multiphonics, overblowing and false fingering then subsiding into contact mic-amplified growling tones, abrasive scratches and squeals. The calming force appears to be the steady drone of Grubbs’ harmonium that among its crescendos and diminuendos finally reveals itself as a keyboard. Lungfulls of reed breathing can be heard along with the scratch of metal on metal, likely caused by a clip-on mic.

From the opposite side of the soundfield, “Skiing + Shooting” mixes what appears to be the murmur of the saxist’s voice amplified through his saxophone body with turntable rumble and sampled snatches of male and female voices. Until the track comes to the end with the sound of an LP being pushed backwards into shrieking shrills, Gustafsson has occupied himself producing echoing overtones -- but no notes -- from his horn as someone replicates a dog’s wheezing.

Selder, who also plays with the saxman in the group Djustable, displays his rhythmic talents on tunes like “Pumpkin Creek”, where his Jerome Green-style maracas provide the beat that binds Grubbs’ folk-style guitar strumming and the thin sounds from Gustafsson’s primitive, six-holed flageolet. At times the overall feel can be compared to recordings featuring Jozef Van Wissem of the Netherlands, who uses his 10-course Renaissance lute mixed with electronics and percussion for decidedly POMO ends.

Particular tones give sections a definite Carnatic cast with tabla intimations, others use tone-arm rumble plus rudimentary synthesizer rhythms and computer static drone to suggest inert ritualistic themes. Sampled snatches of pre-recorded, 18th century symphonies may appear on “Back Off”, mixing in up with harmonium-created overtones, elongated reed biting, ghost notes and squawks. Yet the perspicacious listener will hear from the three experimenters the same sort of techniques and musicianship in the service of pure sound that the dead, white, so-called classical composers brought to their works.

Using a narrower sonic palate, THE DIFFERENCES BETWEEN A FISH, is mostly concerned with variations in soprano saxophone intonation and emissions. The highest-pitched of the saxophone family is sometimes called a fish horn. However, this CD, recorded both live and in a radio studio, is about as far from the jazz traditional of a saxophone duel à la Sonny Stitt and Gene Ammons as you can imagine.

Protagonists are two of the most experimental European reedmen. Although Leimgruber has played modern jazz on occasion, his commitment is to avant sounds in the company of, among others, French bassist Joëlle Léandre and Swiss drummer Fritz Hauser. Doneda, who, it seems, has never been tempted by the mainstream, lines up fully in the experimental camp with such associates as French percussionist Lê Quan Ninh and Basque vocalist Beñat Achiary.

Canny second here Rowe, a charter member of AMM, is an old hand at using his tabletop guitar and electronics to both cushion and goad saxophone performances. Another of his longtime affinities has been with British reed man Evan Parker, whose extended techniques, especially when it comes to circular breathing are as generic to current saxophone styles as Thomas Edison’s work was to the light bulb.

“The Third Part” which, oddly enough, was recorded more than a year before “The First Part”, recalculates the equation in a way, since Leimgruber brings out his tenor several times. He rolls out vibrating sibilate tones of different intensity, while the soprano harvests an unvarying drone. Nutcracker snaps bisect the crackles and twists from Rowe’s electronics, especially after near silent whistles and tongue slaps succeed Bronx cheers from the horns. Later, after near inaudible, darker, ghostly tones have taken hold of the piece, it’s brought to a livelier conclusion with metal tunnel spetrofluctuation, squeaks and circular breathing.

All of these reed, mouthpiece and key techniques are on show on “The First Part” as is altissimo overblowing, squeaky, raspberry-like split tones and volume swelling chirps that could be painful for more than those with tinnitus. Reconfiguring his tones into a large buzzing ball of electronics, the guitarist guides the trio to separate each tone. One saxophone (Doneda?) yields vibrating slurs at top of his range, while the other creates lower-pitched, unvarying overtones. Ending his conveyer belt-like pulsations, Rowe appears to be banging his palms on open guitar strings to help transform the reed peeps and twitters into identifiable saxophone sounds, then silence.

Not for everyone, both of these discs will have a strong appeal to anyone who has followed the work of any of the musicians involved. In addition, if you’re an adventurous sort whose watchword is the old Monty Python title: “and now for something completely different”, you’ll find much to impress you here as well.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Off-Road: 1. Rendezvous Up North 2. Dystoipian Turboprop 3. Pumpkin Creek* 4. Three If By Train* 5. Skiing + Shooting* 6. Back Off

Personnel: Off-Road: Mats Gustafsson (fluteophone, tenor saxophone, flageolet, synthesizers, contact mics); David Grubbs (computer, guitar, harmonium); Henry Moore Selder* (turntable, maracas)

Track Listing: Difference: 1. The First Part 2. The Third Part

Personnel: Difference: Michel Doneda (soprano saxophone); Urs Leimgruber (soprano and tenor saxophones); Keith Rowe (guitar, electronics)

June 3, 2003

AALY TRIO/DKV TRIO

Double or Nothing
Okka Disc OD 12035

SCHOOL DAYS
In Our Time
Okka Disc OD 12041

SPACEWAYS INCORPORATED
Version Soul
Atavistic ALP 130 CD

Eventually Ken Vandermark is going to have to stop wearing his emotions --and influences -- on his sleeve and CD booklet.

Now that the Chicago-based reedman has established himself nationally and internationally as an extender and interpreter of free music, aren’t the dedications he appends to each of his original compositions getting to be a bit redundant?

He was honored with the so-called “genius” grant from the MacArthur Foundation a couple of years ago, has proved himself a valuable contributor to musical situations ranging from duos to big bands and constantly records with his own or cooperative groups. So isn’t it about time to acknowledge that audiences can now be as interested in his tunes for what they sound like rather than whom they honor.

Perhaps this need to link himself to “the tradition” is a sign of modesty or even self-abasement. The former is a more attractive emotion than the later, but neither is necessary. Vandermark’s various bands haven’t yet produced one masterwork, but despite some inconsistencies, are still creating a shelf of memorable work.

Take the discs at hand for instance. Two involve him with Europeans; the last is an all-American product.

DOUBLE OR NOTHING was recorded in 1999 as a match up between his Chicago-based SKV trio -- Vandermark, bassist Kent Kessler and drummer Hamid Drake -- and the Swedish AALY trio -- saxist Mats Gustaffson, bassist Ingebrigt Håker-Flaten and drummer Kjell Nordeson, a band which has frequented toured with Vandermark as a guest. The idea seemed to mix and match twinned instrumentalists sort of like Ornette Coleman’s FREE JAZZ or the recordings by the late Glenn Spearman’s double trio.

The only other time Vandermark tried a similar experiment was in 1986 with UTILITY HITTER, where he matched the members of his Boston trio, including bassist Nate McBride, with Chicagoans. But while that session broke down into duo and trio showcases DOUBLE OR NOTHING -- an apt title -- is a group effort. In fact, with only three tunes examined in nearly 52 minutes, the similarities among the six improvisers are on view much more than their differences.

Strangely enough, the bass duo get to show off, not on the first tune, dedicated to bassist Henry Grimes, but at the beginning of the medley of the final two, written respectively by Albert Ayler and Don Cherry, both of whom employed Grimes on important 1960s LPs. Spending almost the first five minutes with one arco bass playing in a high register, and the other bowing at an even more elevated pitch, reverberating, woody thrusts finally elaborate the theme.

Before both drummers redefine themselves with the combination of snare bashing and a sound that resembles door knocking, a characteristic of Ayler’s drummers like Sunny Murray, both hornmen have unleashed a symphony of glossolalia, producing as much spit as overtones. Vandermark rumbles contentedly and straightforwardly on bass clarinet while Gustaffson uses growls, smears and lingual tones to produce what could be the first off-side variations on “God Save The Queen” or is it “A Love Supreme”?

Fitting the front line like a plug in an electrical socket, the Cherry tune recalls the time he was part of Ayler’s band. Here, as Gustaffson elaborates the head at half tempo, Vandermark on tenor showcases some flutter tonguing and vibrato overflow, backed by the buzzing of bowed basses. These hoards subside for a time as Nordeson uses snares, toms and cymbal to attach his soloing to Elvin Jones’s lineage.

If Nordeson, who made his reputation in Sweden with pianist Per-Henrik Wallin and the Low Dynamic Orchestra, channels Jones on the first disc, which was recorded in Chicago, he was in full Bobby Hutcherson-Gary Burton mode as a vibist on the second. A live session from Oslo’s Blå club done late in 2001, it matches Vandermark and Håker-Flaten with the two other members of the School Days group -- American trombonist Jeb Bishop and Norwegian drummer Paal Nilssen-Love -- plus the vibraharpist.

Because of the novelty of his instrument -- at least in this context -- Nordeson ends up front and centre most of the time, while the configuration is strongly reminiscent of those Archie Shepp bands that featured Hutcherson plus Roswell Rudd or Grachan Moncur III on trombone.

In a program featuring one Bill Evans tune, a different Cherry line, one by Bishop and four Vandermark originals -- all with dedications -- this is definitely a jazz record with a lot of theme-solo-solo-theme work. Also, in a club space, the five fare best on the faster tunes, with the slower ones dragging a bit. As a matter of fact, tunes like “Off The Top” dedicated to organist Larry Young, really end up resembling the sort of hummable soul jazz that coexisted with The New Thing in the 1960s. Bishop may be double-tonguing like Moncur, but Vandermark ends up rearing back and honking like Stanley Turrentine or one of the other boss tenors of that era.

Constant vibe accents, probably played with four mallets, enliven “What About”, which is even dedicated to Hutcherson. More of his own man, though, Nordeson brings a hefty marimba-like tone to his solos that extend on top of tasty Nilssen-Love brushwork. Then at the end, the theme, which initially pinponged between Bishop’s comfortable middle register and Vandermark’s horn, resolves itself into something that could be a mid-1960s Blue Note records boogaloo.

Closer to the Shepp-Hutcherson-Moncur aggregations, Bishop’s “Octopus” is almost sabotaged by under-recording -- at least you have to strain to hear the fleet mallet work. The composer himself lets loose with some growling shout choruses, goosed by the speedily vibrating metal bars. Soon the long-limbed trombone spit and polish is joined by Vandermark on tenor, trilling, double timing, and flutter tonguing. Powerhouse drumming pushes the saxman still further into lingual multiphonics until the entire aggregation brings back the head.

IN OUR TIMES’ music that slithers from cloistered to on the corner and back again, with the emphasis on party time, also has its parallel in VERSION SOUL, recorded two months earlier in Chicago. Credited to School Days, this trio has Vandermark on clarinet, bass clarinet, tenor and baritone saxophones, Drake on drums and guesting from Boston, McBride on bass and electric bass.

It’s the last instrument that distinguishes this session from the others. In spite of claims made for its suppleness when played by so-called fusion masters, the electric bass like the electric keyboard can’t produce the same individual touch that an acoustic instrument can. So while rhythmic input goes up exponentially on those tracks on which it’s featured, one potential solo instrument is removed from the mix.

What's more, during the course of the nine foot-tappers that make up the disc, Vandermark seems to have put himself on the horns of a dilemma -- pun intended. Boasting dedications encompassing artists as different as Reggae forefather, keyboardist Jackie Mittoo, abstract painter Mark Rothko and Larry Graham, bassist for Graham Central Station and Sly and the Family Stone, Vandermark seems to be struggling for his individuality here. Should he concentrate on being an out-and-out raucous player like the usually anonymous saxists who provided instrumental breaks in funk and reggae singles; or should he be a highbrow improviser. He tries both identities on for size here with mixed results.

“Back of a Cab”, for instance, which tries for a prototypical ska or rock steady rhythm courtesy of Drake’s woodblock percussion, doesn’t really follow through when it comes to Vandermark’s sax lines. His squeaks and gentleness seem out of place and when he uses fewer notes than usual it sounds as if he’s holding himself back. Much more impressive is “Clocked”, where the drummer’s heavy, but not overbearing effects suggests both the Crescent City and JA. With McBride thumb tapping on his electric bass, making like The Meters’ George Porter, the reedist adopts a tone that’s midway between reggae and 1950s’ New Orleans R&B, where Lee Allen’s baritone sax reigned supreme.

Probably the most impressive performance comes on “She Just Got Here” though. A McBride line with no attached musical baggage or dedication, it slips along on a Drake created reggae backbeat and some in-your-face fuzztone courtesy of the composer’s electrical outlet. Mixing his rock and his reggae, Vandermark seems perfectly content to honk away.

This overblowing is put to a more cerebral use on “Force at a Distance”, a salute to New Thing honker tenor saxophonist Frank Wright -- who, incidentally, also recorded with Henry Grimes. Apparently comfortable emulating the style of a man who always mixed gospel and blues with his Energy music, Vandermark sounds more sure of himself, indulging in extended harmonics and holding notes for an inordinate length of time. Meantime Drake glides all over his kit with the strength and imagination Wright should have got from his percussionists, and alternately plucking and bowing his acoustic upright, McBride holds everything together with strength unparalleled elsewhere.

Odd number out here, “Rothko Sideways” the CD’s longest track, is muted and melancholy, with Vandermark on clarinet relating more to Jimmy Giuffre’s early 1960s work that was as far away from pop music as British crumpets are from West Indian patties. A slow-moving, low-key recital, Vandermark’s reedy output is shadowed step-by-baby-step by McBride’s talents on the acoustic, with Drake contributing little more than the occasional cymbal splash or -- appropriately -- brush stroke.

Here are three more, wildly different, contributions to the Vandermark discography, which will probably be sought out by the reedist’s many fans. Each has something to recommend it, though overall it seems that Vandermark’s chameleon personality often needs another strong horn player to provide contrast. That’s why IN OUR TIMES is probably the most interesting of the three.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Double: 1. Left to Right 2a. Angels 2b. Awake Nu

Personnel: Double: Mats Gustafsson (alto and tenor saxophones); Ken Vandermark (clarinet, bass clarinet, tenor saxophone); Kent Kessler and Ingebrigt Håker-Flaten (bass);

Kjell Nordeson and Hamid Drake (drums)

Track Listing: In: 1. Another Double 2. Off the Top 3. What About 4. Shift 5. Octopus 6. Loose Blues 7. Elephantasy

Personnel: In: Jeb Bishop (trombone); Ken Vandermark (clarinet, bass clarinet, tenor saxophone); Kjell Nordeson (vibraphone); Ingebrigt Håker-Flaten (bass); Paal Nilssen-Love (drums)

Track Listing: Version: 1. Back of a Cab 2. Reasonable Hour 3. Size Large 4. Journeyman 5. She Just Got Here 6. Clocked 7. Rothko Sideways 8. Force at a Distance 9. All Frequencies

Personnel: Version: Ken Vandermark (clarinet, bass clarinet, tenor and baritone saxophones); Nate McBride (bass and electric bass); Hamid Drake (drums)

September 2, 2002

PETER BRÖTZMANN TENTET PLUS TWO

Short Visit To Nowhere
Okka Disk OD 12043

PETER BRÖTZMANN TENTET PLUS TWO
Broken English
Okka Disk OD 12044

Three years after it was first organized and a year after it first toured, Peter Brötzmann’s Chicago Tentet (Plus Two in this case) displays, in these 2000 recordings, that it has become an exemplary example of how to adopt free improv to large aggregations.

With a mixed cast of seven Chicagoans, three members from New York state, a Swede and Brötzmann, a German, it has all the firepower of a traditional big band with its eight horns. Plus, the three-man string section and two percussionists ensure that not only is its bottom covered -- so to speak -- but that the strings can alternately meld with the horns or shore up the rhythm section. Also, while the German reedman wrote two of the compositions, he’s democratic enough to make room for one piece each by Chicago multi-woodwind player Ken Vandermark, Swedish reedist Mats Gustafsson and Chicago cellist/violinist Fred Lonberg-Holm.

The brass section is made up of New York trumpeter/flugelhornist Roy Campbell, Chicago trombonist Jeb Bishop and Poughkeepsie, N.Y.’s Joe McPhee, who put his saxes aside to concentrate on trumpet and valve trombone. Vandermark’s closest associate Kent Kessler and Manhattanite William Parker, who has a long history with Brötzmann, combine on basses; while Michael Zerang on drums and Hamid Drake on drums, frame drum and voice --both from Chicago -- handle the percussion chores.

Experienced with many large European aggregations, most notably the pan-European Globe Unity Orchestra, Brötzmann appears to know how much freedom to give his posse of star soloists and when to rein them in. On both discs, for instance, you hear a lot more than you would in a conventional jazz big band where star soloists taking their turn at the mike while the remainder riff anonymously. Sure, there’s plenty of solo space available -- how could it be otherwise with the shortest tune more than 13 minutes and the longest almost 43 (!) -- but there are also definite group passages.

Take “Stonewater” on BROKEN ENGLISH, which expanded by another six minutes since it was first recorded in concert at the Festival International de Musique Actuelle in 1999. Intense, stratosphere blats from the massed horns serve as connective leitmotifs once the piece gets going. New is a six-minute intro that finds Drake chanting and playing hand drum. Then, after some tarogato puffs from Brötz, all hell breaks loose in such a way that it must have brought back fond memories of the in-your-face opening of the tenor man’s 1968 MACHINE GUN. As the succeeding soloists take centrestage, er… studio, the saxes provide their avant version of a Count Basie horn section, chugging away in the background.

As this piece -- and the others on the two CDs -- unrolls, however, the major criticism of the session is evident as well. With no identification of soloists, one can only make educated guesses as to who plays what. Before Kessler and Parker combine for some saw-toothed buzzing, the guttural sax tongue slapping you hear probably comes from Gustafsson, while the pastoral clarinet portion is likely Vandermark’s work. After a quasi-Dixieland interlude heavy on liquid clarinet lines and pointed trumpet, not to mention Gustafsson using his baritone to make like bass sax blaster Adrian Rollini, the speedy yet gravelly ‘bone lines probably come from McPhee’s valve.

Eras and styles blend as well. For example, when the walking basses and bomb dropping bass drum section make up one pulse, the massed sax section functions as stalwart, bar-walking R&B honkers. Finally one -- Brötz (?) -- breaks free from the pack for an extended a cappella stop time solo that goes from screaming altissimo split tones to gut-wrenching overblowing. Eventually scraped arco strings give way to a toboggan ride of brass slides and slurs, and the tune culminates in a Mingusian crescendo.

Or take Lonberg-Holm’s “Lightbox”. Beginning with a muted trumpet -- probably played by Campbell -- McPhee and Bishop soon come on like an up-to-date Jay & Kai, romping through slide and valve positions until pizzicato strings give way to the massed cacophony of many reeds. After that there’s a sax face off, with one exploring every extended aviary technique to build to a crescendo, while the other -- apparently Gustafsson -- produces a funk thump that could fit in the bands of James Brown or Ray Charles. Pseudo-human cries, courtesy of the reeds, and arcing orchestral brass sum up the tune, which after several false endings stops on a dime -- or maybe a Euro.

Strangely enough, Williams’ “Hold That Thought” on the same CD sounds more like a revved up Ellington band than the Gustafsson piece named for the Duke that follows it. Of course, with what is likely Vandermark’s Klezmer-like clarinet passages, it would be an Ellington who was as familiar with (old) Odessa as New Orleans and know Bialystok as well as Baltimore. There’s also a Latin influence, with sections where the horns seem to play “La Cucuracha”. Campbell’s notes sail on top of the charts the way trumpeter Cat Anderson’s did with Ellington, while Bishop’s double-time plunger work, calls forth answering chords from the band like Tricky Sam Nanton’s did from the Duke’s Jungle band. Call this mainstream with avant-flourishes

Mention should also be made of the arrangement for “Short Visit To Nowhere”, one CD’s more-than-25-minute title track. Although there are a good number of scratches from the strings, bleats from the saxes and smears from the brass, there’s still room for what sounds like an electric guitar working out of a Jimi Hendrix bag, which is probably Lonberg-Holm on fiddle. The German saxophonist’s writing allow different sections of the group to be emphasized at different times. For instance, stroked buzzes coalesce into the creation of avant string trio, modulating up and down the stops at one point; and a modern reed battle between what’s probably Williams’ squalling alto and Brötz or Vandermark’s unhurried clarinet lines erupt at another point.

One could go on and on. While it’s frightening to think how good the Brötzmann band of any size must sound now, with two more years together, it’s easy to praise both of these CDs. Although available singly, they’re actually one of a piece, the way the cover photo on each can be joined to make one consistent image.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Short: 1. Hold That Thought 2. Ellington 3. Short Visit To Nowhere 4. Lightbox

Track Listing: Broken: 1. Stonewater 2. Broken English

Personnel on both discs: Roy Campbell (trumpet, flugelhorn); Joe McPhee (trumpet, valve trombone); Jeb Bishop(trombone); Peter Brötzmann (tenor saxophone, clarinet, tarogato); Ken Vandermark (tenor saxophone, clarinet); Mars Williams (alto and tenor saxophone); Mats Gustafsson (tenor and baritone saxophones); Fred Lonberg-Holm (cello, violin); Kent Kesler (bass); William Parker (bass, log drum); Michael Zerang (drums); Hamid Drake (drums, frame-drum, voice)

June 7, 2002

MATS GUSTAFSSON

Windows: The Music Of Steve Lacy
Blue Chopsticks 4

As the recorded tributes to Miles Davis, Louis Armstrong, Duke Ellington and John Coltrane edge into the triple digits, with Charles Mingus and Thelonious Monk appreciations running close behind, it's good to see a different jazzman being honored.

Considering the person is saxophonist Steve Lacy, who has been a spiky iconoclast for most of his almost 50 year career, and the honorer is another exploratory saxophonist, the appeal of this session mounts. Burnishing the salute, Gustafsson is resourceful enough to offer this solo tribute playing different horns then Lacy's signature soprano saxophone and to let loose on his own, as well as Lacy compositions.

What more could anyone want? Well, it depends on the listener. The result, after all, isn't easily listening. But the CD is certainly a must have for anyone seeking a close encounter with the furthest frontiers of modern saxophone playing.

Throughout, the sound comes as much from the reed, keypads, throat, tongue and breath of the Swedish saxophonist as from the compositions themselves. Air being swallowed and expelled is as much a feature of some pieces as the melody.

Probably the smoothest entry into WINDOWS' world is Cecil Taylor's "Louise", which Lacy recorded for Candid in 1961. Rather than playing the melody first, Gustafsson, on tenor sax, leads with his variations, only hinting at the tune. During the more than nine-minute workout that follows it appears again a few times, yet each showing is proceeded or followed by tone digressions and vocalizations.

Keypad slaps used as rhythm are features of compositions like "Prospectus" -- at 12 minutes the longest track on the CD. Another experiment the hornman indulges in is alternating constant lip vibrations with deep breaths, finally leading to flurries of foghorn tones or a battalion-like volley of notes. Other sounds must be attributed to the fluteophone -- a flute with a saxophone mouthpiece -- invented by Gustafsson.

In literature, a major stylist's translation from a different language of another writer's work is fascinating in itself. Since a solo homage is the closest one can get to that conception in a participatory medium such as jazz, this session is doubly interesting.

--Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Deadline 2. Prospects 3. Windows 4. Louise 5. Retreat 6. Outline

Personnel: Mats Gustafsson (tenor and baritone saxophones, fluteophone)

October 4, 2000

MATS GUSTAFSSON/BARRY GUY

Frogging
Maya MCD 9702

As the economics of real jazz and improvised music continue to sag, a legion of trios and duos have become the preferred form for those who would have played in larger groups a few years ago. The trouble is that few of these mini-combos work as well as the one here because their conception is essentially reductive rather than augmentative. Conversely, experienced improvisers like Gustafsson and Guy don't see this grouping as playing without a drummer or pianist, but as adding together two separate sets of sounds to create a unified whole. There's so much going on here at all times from strings, tongues, throats, bows, fingers, wood, hands, mouthpieces, reeds, mouths and yards of tubing that the sophisticated listener certainly won't miss the phantom members of the combo. The two can also play this way, because they had worked together in similar situations for at least five years prior to this recording. Veteran Briton Guy has performed in every sort of gathering from the London Jazz Composers Orchestra -- which he leads -- to duos with the likes of Evan Parker. Gustafsson, a Swede, may be a few years younger, but that hasn't stopped him from joining up with manifold European and North America sonic explorers in bands of every size and shape. With an arsenal of five horns he also has enough ammunition to take on Guy, who often creates enough string sounds for another five people.

Each track has been given Latinate frog names, and moving as quickly as those creatures, Guy and Gustafsson are able to leap from one rhythm to the next and from one mood to another. Along the way the saxophonist trots out a variety of tones from barely there flute breaths to furious slap tonguing on the baritone saxophone, one minute resembling gull squalls and the next the restive sea brushing against the shore. Meantime Guy dances around this, making his bass sound like a cello one minute and a string quartet the next.

Listeners who know the earlier CDs of these musicians will probably know of what they're capable. Those who don't are well advised to check out these sounds.

-Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Bufo punctatus 2. Hyla pickeringii 3. Scaphiopus couchii 4. Lythodytes ricordii 5. Discoglossidae 6. Hyla versicolor 7. Rana clamitans 8. Hyla gratiosa 9. Chrorophilus ocularis

Personnel: Mats Gustafsson (tenor and baritone saxophones, flute, fluteophone, French flageolet); Barry Guy (bass)

August 4, 2000

PETER BRÖTZMANN

Stone/Water
Okka Disk OD 12032

Peter Brötzmann is no stranger to bombast.

The German multi-reedist first goose-stepped his way into world jazz consciousness in 1968 with MACHINE GUN on FMP. From its first extended blats of pure noise emanating from a (very) mixed platoon of Dutch, Flemish, British and German improvisers, it gave lusty notice that Continental jazzers had to be judged on their own merits rather than in comparison to North American musicians.

Over the years, except for the odd one/off project, economic necessity has forced Brötzmann to work with smaller bands -- usually trios and quartets and some commentators have even posited that the wildman has mellowed.

As this fine session, attests, nothing could be further from the truth. It's just with a veteran's maturity, the saxophonist now knows exactly when to let 'er rip and when to keep things on a quieter level. Also, unlike some of his more dogmatic colleagues, he's never missed an opportunity to collaborate with many other musicians, be they Americans or Moroccans.

That's the genesis of this disc -- recorded at last year's Festival International de Musique International in Victoriaville, Que. A couple of years before this, Brötzmann, on tour in Chicago, organized a crew of like-minded improvisers from the simmering improv scene there -- first as an octet then a tentet. This band is a road show version of that aggregation which was captured on 1997's superb three-CD Okka disc set. Besides Brötzmann, the group now includes a Swede (Gustafson); a Japanese (Kondo); and a Manhattenite (Parker) as well six musicians from the Windy City.

While the gang of 10 seems to throw everything it can into the one, almost 39 minute, composition, its extreme length leads to an uneven outcome. Sure there's the unparalleled power of MACHINE GUN-style unison horn work -- especially right the beginning and end -- but there are time marking valleys as well as peaks. With nearly everyone allowed solo space, focus is sometimes lost. Kondo's muted trumpet and electronic washes, for instance, seem to go on a bit too long. And the ominous sub theme propelled by the cello may have been better on its own. Still, Bishop's half-gutbucket/half modern trombone proves convincing, as do the eight string acrobatics of Parker and Kessler.

However with the soloists not identified --and all reedists playing tenor saxophone and Brötzmann and Vandermark both playing clarinets -- it's hard to ascribe individual woodwind honors. One would suppose that the most ferocious blowing comes from the German, but whoever plays each part certainly knows his way around a mouthpiece.

Another complaint is that nowhere are the first names of the performers (listed blow) supplied. That may be OK for a Miles Davis session, but these less famous musicians deserve as much acknowledgement as possible. The last name of the cellist is also misspelled.

While STONE/WATER builds up to a multifaceted climax, all the parts don't add up to a masterwork like the three-CD THE CHICAGO OCTET/TENTET. Perhaps it was the live situation or the new personalities in the band.

Still if you liked the earlier session, you'll probably favor this one as well. And if you don't own the limited-edition three-CD set this can be an admirable substitute, especially if you follow the work of any of the horn men.

--Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Stone/Water

Personnel: Toshinoro Kondo (tbrumpet, electronics); Jeb Bishop (trombone); Peter Brötzmann (tenor saxophone, clarinet); Mats Gustafsson (tenor saxophone, flutophone); Ken Vandermark (tenor saxophone, clarinet, bass clarinet); Fred Lonberg-Holm (cello, violin); Kent Kessler, William Parker (basses); Hamid Drake, Michael Zerang (drums)

June 17, 2000